The song remains the same...

Dennis and Danny make a dreary night in Streetsville
a lot more fun by basically rocking the night away and
having the time of their lives (with the exclusion of, you
know, children being born and stuff.) Great night for us

This is the story about how I single-handedly drank a small Streetsville bar out of craft beer...

But, as I tend to do here, I am putting the cart in front of the horse. So let's go back a little and set the stage. My buddy, Dave, is pretty much my oldest friend going as we met on Day One of Kindergarten. In fact, it was in Kindergarten that he and I realized we have many common interests and they remain interests we enjoy to this day, including play-time, finger-painting, Nap Time and eating paste.

So he called me a couple of weeks back and said he and his lady-love Joann wanted to go check out our high school friend, Danny, playing a gig at a Streetsville pub. As it turns out, Jo was on one of those Oprah-style body cleanse diets that prohibits pretty much every food I enjoy - basically, she was restricted from all the fatty, bready, artery-hardening, deep-fried goodness that I happily consume daily. When I go down, I don't want my last words to be, "I don't get it? I ate healthy!"

Steve: "Do I know all the words to the song
American Pie? Did I believe in rock and roll
and can music save my mortal soul? And can
you teach me how to dance real slow?" Okay
then, Steve, I'm gonna just take that as a yes.

More like, "Let's face it. I've been playing Beat The Clock for decades now," My body is not so much a temple but rather a filth-encrusted Meth lab above a seedy massage parlour in Chinatown. Hell, I'll eat a greasy snack while I'm making myself a snack.

But as well as specific foods, Jo couldn't partake in alcohol which meant two things. 1) We had a diet-regimented designated driver at our disposal. And 2) she couldn't eat Dave's signature side-dish cheesy garlic bread, which enabled me to eat a little, some, most, all of it. But I'm confident she enjoyed watching me eat it as much as she would have enjoyed having some herself because that's how little I know about women. But on with the rock show...

After being chauffeured to Graydon's in Streetsville, we instantly saw high school buddy Steve and his lady Lori sitting near the stage (okay, spot by the window might be more accurate). Sliding in beside him, Steve had an ominous and dire warning for me. "There is only one waitress for this entire place." Now Steve was our high school's star athlete and I think even he was impressed with the instantaneous speed I displayed getting to the bar. The Flash would have come second.

Through the medium of interpretive dance, our new
friend, Morticia, sways alongside Dennis as he sings.
Now I'm not saying Morticia was hammered but
every once in a while, her boyfriend would look up
from his phone to make sure she was still vertical
 and not horizontal. She was actually harmless fun.

Steve was right. The poor wee waitress was flying solo after a co-worker called in sick and a manager bailed. Checking out an array of taps, none of which worked for me, I asked her if they had any craft beer. "I'm not sure," said the frazzled lass. "Is Flying Monkeys craft beer?"

With my Flying Monkeys Amber Ale in hand - I'll be back to that in a minute - I returned to the group and some friendly high school shenanigans as our crowd grew. Danny's twin brother Dennis (a former college roomie of mine and Dave's) was a surprise guest and before long, friends from our old Falgarwood neighbourhood, Bill and Ingrid, joined us. Basically, we had all the makings of a rave. Minus the mosh pit. And the rave part. We think we're still young enough to rave. We just forget how.

Danny, as he always does, had a big binder of song lyrics and between sets, he was flipping through it to collect the music for his next one. Unfortunately, he was doing it in front of me so I picked that moment to diss him, noting "You know, Sir Paul doesn't flip through lyrics sheets up on stage." referring to the obscure bass player for some clunky garage band called The Beatles.

Dennis asked me which Superman emblem this
was. Told it was from the "Death of Superman"
 epic story-line, Dennis deadpanned, "Oh yeah. I
remember... I took the day off work to mourn."

So Danny hastily threw an assortment of songs together and returned to the stage spot on the floor by the window. But he ran into a small problem when he came to play Don McLean's American Pie. Without the lyrics, he pulled up short about halfway through. In other words, his Chevy did, in fact, make it to the levee but the word stream went dry. So Steve, sitting not seven feet away, simply piped up and sang the remaining lyrics. Right order and everything. I haven't seen a save that sweet since Tom Henke pitched for the Blue Jays.

The rest of the night was a blast as we cheered and drank and basically had high school type fun being entertained - once again - by the Ford twins, who continue to retain their crown as the Funniest Conjoined Siblings Ever. Wait, that means Siamese Twins. Well, I believe they were connected at the funny bones. Granted, I wasn't quite done with Danny yet. When he noted, "Well, I haven't rehearsed this one," I couldn't help but chirp, "Then make Dennis sing it!" And then there was Dennis playing imaginary keyboards on Supertramp's School, exhorting us to play the air keyboards with him. Like Steve before me, I totally nailed it. Not even one lesson. Self-taught.

But the level of fun and enthusiasm we all had that night was not measured in our high school shenanigans but rather in a thank you from an outsider. While that harried waitress did eventually get another helper, she took the time to tell Danny something at the end.

Flying Monkeys Head Wizard Peter Chiodo
holds up my favourite offering - Smashbomb
Atomic IPA. That's a damn tasty brewski...

"The waitress said our side of the bar totally made her night," Danny told us. "Everyone was happy, friendly and patient with her. The other side, not so much." Granted, we are all old enough to not need outside validation. That doesn't mean we don't want it, though. Hell, we lap it up like free booze at a wedding reception. Turns out we learned more in high school than we thought. But another great night...

Okay, onto the small matter of me drinking Graydon's dry of craft beer. Yes, it's true. I drank all of their Flying Monkeys Amber Ale. Both of them. So really, not much of an accomplishment but again, sweet validation! But this beer wasn't always a Flying Monkeys product. In its original form, it was called Robert Simpson Confederation Ale because when it began in 2005, the Barrie brewery was called Robert Simpson Brewing, in honour of the town's first mayor, himself a brewer who founded the Simcoe Steam Brewery in the 1870s. Then in 2009, Peter Chiodo, the founder and head bottle-washer, decided to change things up. This March 2009 press release, likely penned by Chiodo himself, explain the switcheroo.

Certainly a decent enough little beer but far from
Flying Monkeys best work. Like the balance of
their beers, this could use a little kick in the hops.

"Once upon a time, we were The Robert Simpson Brewing Company but we're morphing into The Flying Monkeys Craft Brewery. Why? Because being named for a dead white guy just isn't very exciting. Where's the fun in that? Beer is supposed to be way more fun than a history class. It'll be weird for a while but the new name opens up so many possibilities for us to express ourselves (and be flaky)."

While the name change instantly made the brewery more interesting and far more colourful (their booths at Beer Festivals are, by far, the easiest ones to spot), at the time, it didn't sit well with some Barrie residents. Indeed, with some, it still doesn't. Not long ago, I was discussing Flying Monkeys with Neil Miller, a friend and prominent beer writer in New Zealand, on Facebook. One of his friends, clearly from Barrie, noted she much preferred the old name, Robert Simpson. Neil, well-schooled in the art of politics and diplomacy, offered up this analogy. "Consider the following statements. 'Release the flying monkeys!' Or 'Release the Robert Simpsons!' Which has more flair?" With that clever rejoinder, Neil won over the dissatisfied customer, who laughingly confessed he made a valid point. As he tends to, being the most clever shepherd I know.

While I suspected the Founders Brewing
Double Trouble Double IPA would be the
big winner of the two, it was, in fact, their
Breakfast Stout that blew me away here.

So how was that Amber Ale? Honestly? Meh. The brewery pounds out phenomenal (and usually hoppy) beers with alarming frequency so this doesn't measure up to some of their best - the Smashbomb Atomic IPA, the Hoptical Illusion Near Pale Ale and the staggeringly tasty seasonal Chocolate Manifesto Triple Chocolate Imperial Stout. So some pretty big shoes to fill for a wee bonny amber ale. That said, even though I found it extremely thin for its style, it was light years ahead of any of the commercial alternatives available on tap at Graydon's. Life is measured in the small victories so it was a winner in that regard that night. As soon as I was forced to switch to Keith's IPA (yeah, right) on tap, I was missing that little amber ale.

Moving along, Beer Bro Glenn stopped into Donny's Bar and Grill recently because as I have mentioned here numerous times before, I often forget to lock the door. And he brought me a couple of beauties from Founders Brewing out of Grand Rapids, Michigan. Even though I have alerted the border patrol numerous times that he is a convicted heroin smuggler, he continues to scoot into the United States on his infamous beer runs into Niagara Falls, New York, eluding the authorities with measurable success. But from our friends at Founders, he came back with their Double Trouble Imperial IPA and their Breakfast Stout.

Boo-yah! The Rainhard Brewing Kapow!
IPA brings the fight. Looking at the label,
young Cara said it reminded her of the
Batman TV show. She's right about that.

Well, obviously I was going to prefer the IIPA... or so I thought. Don't get me wrong - that Double Trouble was outstanding. Tons of mango on the nose (Glenn got pine) with plenty of fruitiness and roasted maltiness on the tongue (Glenn got the same... plus a few more things), this was a 9.4%, 86 IBU (international bitterness units) dragon-slayer. A superb offering. But as Thor would utter if he were facing Loki, I say thee nay! Twas the Breakfast Stout, a double chocolate, coffee, oatmeal imperial stout that snatched away the Asgardian crown. (Grand Rapids is often confused by mortals with Asgard.) Crap on a cross, this was good. I'll let the brewery's commercial description take it from here because it's spot on.

"You've got to love coffee (Me waving: I do! I do!) to truly appreciate this phenomenal brew. Brewed with an abundance of flaked oats, bitter and sweetened imported chocolate, Sumatra and Kona coffees. We're actually not sure if this is some type of coffee cake or a beer. Either way, you can drink this ale with a fork." To continue, I would add, at 8.3% and 60 IBUs, it combines the malty goodness of chocolate and coffee with a textured hop-malt finish that stays on your tongue long after the sip. This might be the single best non-barrel-aged stout I have had in a long time. A surprise knock-out by the Stouty Underdog.

Next up, we had a freebie from Rib Eye Jack's Ale House's general manager Steve, whose provincial and cross-border beer runs are legen - wait for it - dary.

Okay, after examining this graphic
evidence, it is quite clear that Cara
saw something I never thought of!

He stayed in the Greater Toronto Area for this gift - a Rainhard Brewing Kapow! IPA. Now before I begin, let me say this. I am a huge fan of their Armed N Citra Pale Ale and their Refuse Double IPA - both stellar beers. But I wasn't a big fan of their The Antidote IPA. Rib Eye Steve suspected it was the choice of milder hops in that brew that perhaps threw me off and he is usually right.

However, when I got the Kapow!, it was a different story. For starters, young bartender Cara looked at it and said, "Hey, that reminds me of the Batman (TV) show." A little stunned because I was a kid when that show aired and I know I have a couple of decades on her, I asked how she even knew about that old-time classic. Turns out in her youth (which wasn't all that long ago), Canada had some retro-channel for a time and not only was she versed in Batman, she happily crowed, "I also watched Leave It To Beaver!" That is, indeed, important because everything I ever learned about weaseling your way through life, I learned from Eddie Haskell. But back to the Kapow! Okay, once again, I can say that I love and want to marry Rainhard, that sexy, sultry brewery.

Planning on having a Guinness Blonde American
Lager? My buddy, Thor, has thoughts on that idea.

Okay, at 6.5% and 65 IBUs, this is all orange peel on the nose and citrus bitterness on the tongue. I would drink this again... and again... and again. They hit the nail on the head with this one. Fan-freakin-tastic.

Finally, let's end this with something sketchy - the Guinness Blonde American Lager. When it landed at my Beer Store recently, I inspected the label and saw it was brewed in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. Same place as Rolling Rock Pale Lager. Same brewery, in fact. The end result? I'll try to use my friend Neil's sense of diplomacy here. Anyone who considers this a good beer likely believes that Velveeta is a fine cheese. How's that? Just don't. Thin, weak and forgettable.

Before I go, back to Glenn briefly. After my last blog, in which I praised the Firestone Walker Double Jack IIPA, he pointed out I had consumed some a year ago just before we went to the Burlington Winter Beer Festival. I double-checked and he was right. It turns out that alcohol does kill brain cells, particularly those pertaining to memory. I mean, when I was a kid, I could name all the dinosaurs. Now, years later, I can maybe name three and I'm not even sure armadillos count. Next up, Walkerville Brewing is revisited as coworker Marie brought me some goodies and a crap-ton more. But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here! Until next time, I remain...

Wasn't That A Party?

Yessssss... pour that Collective Arts' Ransack
The Universe IPA for me. A little more. Think
we can squeeze another ounce in there. Yeeesss

It was a great night that almost wasn't. When Nickel Brook and Collective Arts Breweries opened the doors of their collaborative Arts and Science Brewing by the lake in Hamilton on November 14th to the public twice, there were no shortage of willing participants. The afternoon session was a come-one-come-all affair with free admission while the evening session was the real bash - $20 a pop but rockin' loud big-time fun.

Now, that morning I texted my Nickel Brook compadre Tony Cox after reading that only 100 tickets were left and asked if he could set aside one for me and I'd pay when I got there. No problem, he said. Except there was one small glitch. Turns out tickets were gone. "Lemme see what I can do for you," he texted. Next thing I knew, I was on some kind of guest list. No idea what he did on his end but, well, Tony is the man! So hopping into a cab to head over that night (because my driver's licence is and continues to be a valued asset), it turns out my cab showed up exactly the same time in the same spot as Rib Eye Jack's Ale House's general manager Steve and its lovely beer technician Kylie's cab did. Very fortuitous for me, considerable less so for them. So we simply wandered towards the entrance. As it turns out, Rib Eye Steve was already on the guest list, which is no surprise but for one night, I was a Steve-Level VIP. That won't happen twice.

Nickel Brook Brewing owner John Romano, left,
and Rib Eye Jack's general manager Steve share a
laugh at the big Saturday night party. It was John's
second Open House of the day with one more to go.

Kylie, on the other hand, doesn't really need to be on a guest list. She shows up, people let her in because, well, she's Kylie. I am 100% convinced Kylie could simply wander into the Vatican at will.
Vatican Security Guard: I'm sorry, Miss, I don't see your name on the list.
The Pope (walking by): Hey, Kylie, what's up?
Vatican Security Guard: Your credentials totally check out. Please go in! Stop at the Gift Shop. I'll put you down for a free Pope T-shirt!

We weren't in there long before I spotted Amy from Nickel Brook at one of the serving counters. Now, Amy often fills my growlers at Nickel Brook and let's just say this. When I do my first pour out of an Amy-filled growler, I do so over the sink. It's beyond full. So I walked right up and asked her what they had. She happily got me a Headstock IPA and back I wandered to the pair who were enjoying some sour beer that I'd never drink. But they were laughing at the same time. Not that I'm not used to that or anything. It happens with alarming frequency but I was curious why. Steve laughed, "There were only two line-ups to the counter. But when you walked right up (to Amy), you created a third line-up. So we watched all these people start lining up behind you!"

All of the shiny silver vats at the brewery were lit up in
blue that night. Yes, I'm colour-blind. I know because I
asked. Otherwise, you would have heard me questioning
why they decided to go with purple. It's an odd colour.
This picture was posted by Matthew Gamble on Twitter.

Okay, I'd actually be more impressed with my Pied Piper-like abilities if it wasn't my only accomplishment of the night. (Face it... New Line-Up Man? Lamest super power ever.)

At some point, Kylie wandered off to do Kylie Things, leaving me and Steve to run rampant without supervision, wandering through areas we may or may not have been authorized to do so. Well, technically, I threw out rock, Steve threw out scissors so the adult burden was placed on his shoulders that I not get arrested. He succeeded very well. Being a bar manager no doubt helps. In fact, he made sure we both got back to Burlington safely by cab. If St Christopher is the patron saint of safe travel and St Jude is the saint of hopeless causes, Steve is St Dude, the patron saint of travelling hopeless causes. Realizing that me getting home safely on my own would be akin to watching a stoned gorilla trying to start a car with a breadstick, Steve sternly told me at one point, "Do not do that disappearing into the night without a word thing you do!" Hey, it's called "phantoming" and it's a real skill! I have taught actual tutorials to countless people over the years on this... okay, sure, mostly by simply disappearing into the night without a word but everyone's teaching methods are different.

Collective Arts Brewing co-founder Matt Johnston, left, wanders
through the Arts and Science Brewery with his VP of Operations
Jeff Tkachuk in this Matt Barnes photo for Canadian Business.
Besides being a really nice photo, the brewery guys are showing
their Safety First attitude by wearing steel-toed boots. You think
dropping a case of beer won't break your toe? Hah, think again...

But I'll tell you this for free. It was a great bash of which I remember a solid 93%. On RateBeer, that'd be a pretty solid score.

And both Nickel Brook co-founder John Romano and Collective Arts co-founder Matt Johnston were thrilled with the results - so much so, they added a third party on Sunday. Talking to CBC, John said on Sunday about Saturday's big bash, "There were 19 years old and there were 70 year olds. Last night, the love and the harmony and the beer flowing was unbelievable. You dream about this stuff happening (but) you don't think it's gong to happen."

Talking to the local CHCH-News, Johnston, a Hamilton native himself, was equally effusive. "We're a manufacturer, we brew beer. But we are also about creativity and that's exactly the blend Hamilton has going now." With a nod to his co-founder and artist Bob Russell, the brewery has cranked out over 400 different labels from individual artists in its short history - many of which have landed in my fridge on both their Rhyme and Reason Extra Pale Ale and Ransack The Universe IPA bottles, meaning if I framed my fridge, it'd be the classiest part of Donny's Bar and Grill. By far. "Why put the same boring labels on a bottle for the next 10 years?" he noted. Added Johnston, whose brewery gets the retail component out of the new Hamilton brewery (Nickel Brook's, much to my delight, remains around the corner in Burlington): "Craft beer lovers are experimental (and) that doesn't just go for beer. That goes for their taste in music and art so we wanted to fuse those together."

The Arts and Science Brewery in Hamilton proudly
hangs two banners. One brewery but two separate
brewers all under one roof. If the song, Ebony and
Ivory, were a brewery, that would be it. Hamilton is
about to become culturally richer with this addition.

Now lest any of you think, "Hey, how is this a big deal?" allow me to illuminate. As far as I can tell using the extensive tools of Google at my disposal, this is the first collaborative brewery in Canada. Ever. Yes, many have collaborated on beers but an actual brewery? Uncharted territory. Yes, Collective Arts did contract brew out of Nickel Brook's 15,000-square-foot Burlington brewery... but then there was a problem. The beers created for the fledgling company by the Nickel Brook brewers became so popular, particularly the Rhyme and Reason, the Burlington facility couldn't handle the demand for both breweries as Nickel Brook's products alone had long since hit their stride. In fact, I believe some of the overflow Collective Arts new brews had to be done out of Cool Brewing in Toronto. By pooling their resources - and in essence, rolling the financial dice - they now have a potential of 40,000 square feet of brewing equipment out of the old Lakeport facility in Hamilton, more than half of which is in actual use. On top of that, 10.000 square feet has been set aside for arts, music and other very cool non-brewing events. Really not seeing a downside here. Great beer, great music, great art, great times? Bring it! But is this all too big - can they do it? Of course they can and I have empirical historic evidence to back me up on this.

Great label but not a stellar IPA. I'm thinking this
is sort of halfway between a grapefruit radler
(which enjoy inexplicable success during the hot
days of Summer) and a regular IPA. As a beer on
its own merits, I did like it. But wasn't blown away

Did Genghis Khan complain he couldn't take over China because it was too damn big and too hard to pull off? No! And why was that? Because he was Genghis Khan, not Genghis Khan't.

Okay, moving away from perhaps the worst comparative analogy I had ever made in my life (with the exception of the handful of times I've compared people to Hitler... which is completely uncalled for, unduly harsh and incredibly unfair... in some cases, to Hitler), let's look at some brews I have happily consumed in the recent past because it's Beer O'Clock at Donny's Bar and Grill, baby!!!

Okay since Kylie was front and centre at the beginning of this, let's drag her screaming and kicking back into the forefront. Every once in a while, Kylie will bring a six-pack of mixed beers from her house to the bar for the purposes of redistribution to some of her regulars, such as myself. The situation is simply this: Kylie is gifted with so much beer from patrons that she simply can't drink it all. Even though she's one of the toughest nuts I know, she is also a wee lass and consumption of everything she receives would likely knock her on her pretty butt faster than Ronda Rousey went down to Holly Holm. (To the MMA organizers, I assume there will be the inevitable rematch... and soon, I hope?)

Despite their recent $1 billion deal with giant
Heineken, who now owns half the company,
there are fervent hopes that Lagunitas Brewing
will retain its hoppy presence and irreverent
cheeky monkey business ethos after the purchase

And, of course, since it's her favourite style, she is mostly gifted with IPAs (though she seems to be happily surfing the surging sour beer wave.) In fact, she gets so many IPAs that it's damn near impossible to gift either her or Rib Eye Steve (St Dude is also an IPA aficionado) with one they haven't previously tried. The last time I stopped in, I played against the odds and just gave them both strong ales, neither of which either of them had tried. But back to the Kylie Kraft Kollection and said redistribution of unique craft brews. You see, if something has languished a little too long in her fridge at home, she worries about its freshness and brings a small selection in to share. I tend to be the beneficiary of a couple of bottles if I happen in on the right day. Freshness is never too much of a concern for me as I have yet to be beaten by a "Best Before" date.

A couple of Kylie Kraft Kollection redistribution times ago, I scored a Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA, a beer I had tried and very much loved during a Las Vegas trip, as well as a Magic Hat Brewing (South Burlington, Vermont) Electric Peel Grapefruit IPA. Since I have reviewed (and raved over) the Torpedo, let's have a look at that Electric Peel. This is certainly an interesting little offering. At 6.2% and I'm gonna guess about 60 IBUs (international bitterness units), this is actually a little too heavy-handed with the grapefruit.

Holy crap! We have a definite winner here in
the Firestone (Walker) Double Jack Double
IPA. Staying power out the wazoo, it'll slap
you in the face and kick you where it hurts...

If I had to guess, I'd say Magic Hat was looking at the recent radler craze (half grapefruit juice, half beer) and decided to create an IPA that capitalized on that. What happened, though, was the creation of a beer with far too much fruitiness and not enough, uhh, beery goodness. It's a decent enough beer but not a strong IPA.

That said, I scored a couple of beauties in the last Kylie purge. When Lagunitas Brewing (Petaluma, California) recently sold half their brewery stake to international giant Heineken for a suspected $1 billion, there were, of course, immediate concerns over the potential of declining quality within the craft beer community. That, of course, remains to be seen but I have my doubts that anything will change and believe their beers will remain stellar. I think Heineken just wants a shiny craft jewel within their portfolio, much like Labatt's purchase of Mill Street Brewing up here in Canada. One thing is certain - the Lagunitas Little Sumpin Sumpin IPA I got from Kylie is certainly top-notch! At 7.5% and 64.2 IBUs (first time I've ever seen a decimal point in an IBU), this little powerhouse is all pine on the nose with big splashes of citrus and pine on the tongue. Dynamite.

But the absolute best score from the Kylie Kraft Kollection? No doubt - the Firestone Walker Brewing (Paso Robles, California) Double Jack Double IPA.

My local Nickel Brook Brewing just added a sick selection
of T-Shirts to their retail outlet and they happen to have
both my and my co-worker Jay's favourite beers. To the
left are Jay-Dawg's choices - the Naughty Neighbour
American Pale Ale and Cause and Effect Blonde Ale while
to the right are my big guns, Bolshevik Bastard Imperial
Stout and the Headstock IPA. Just in time for Christmas!

Jeebus, Joseph and Mary, this one was the beer version of a body-snatcher. At 9.5% and 85 IBUs, this one throws all the bloody hops in the kettle - Columbus, Cascade, Warrior, Centennial, Amarillo and Simcoe are all in there at various stages during the bittering process, the late kettle addition and the final dry hopping. Huge tangerine and grapefruit on the nose, pine and citrus on the tongue, this one has a long linger in your mouth. The continued length a good IPA stays on your tongue before the next sip is something Rib Eye Steve taught me. Turns out I'm very trainable - I'm like a Pavlov's Don. Ring a bell and I'll salivate.

Okay, that's it for this round but coming up next, I have a mini-high-school reunion during which I drank a Streetsville bar out of craft beers, a look at some of the tasty beers Marie brought me back from Walkerville Brewery, a closer look at Okanagan Springs Brewing and much more. On top of that, a couple more Kylie brews - the Stone City Brewing (Kingston) 100 Pound Wet Hop IPA (in a separate piece on wet hopping), as well as their Grizzled Hipster Double IPA, which is, oddly, still in my fridge but frankly not for long. I predict it won't last through the day. In the meanwhile, I'm gonna go alter my Mom's Christmas seating chart and add "Syrian Refugee #1" and "Syrian Refugee #2" to it. Oh, they're not actually coming. I just wanna see my racist uncle's head explode. But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here! Until next time, I remain...

Hot Brinks Guard and double dry-hopping

This is the standard uniform for a Brinks guard.
The difference between this guy and Hot Brinks
Guard is she makes this look good. Damn good!

It was a morning like any other dreary grey morning at the Beer Store. That is, until the Brinks truck showed up. You see, every couple of weeks, they pop in to deliver us our coin order while we, in turn, empty out the contents of our Brinks safe (which only they can unlock) into a big bag that they, in turn, deliver to the bank. It's a "shampoo, rinse, repeat" kind of ritual for any medium-to-large retail outfit in the province.

Usually Brinks guards tend to be dour, humourless dudes and frankly, you don't know the meaning of "forced conversation" until you're trapped into making small talk with one. But this one particular morning would be different. Hot Brinks Guard was back. Now while it's difficult to describe Hot Brinks Guard with mere words, I am going to try my best nonetheless in my stumbling, awestruck manner. Hot Brinks Guard is a staggeringly pretty brunette with a warm, beautiful smile, a deceptively quick wit and friendly manner who combines that girl-next-door wholesomeness with the stark reality that she's packing a loaded sidearm. And yes, ladies, I recognize that "hot" should only be used to describe the weather, rather than a human being, but let's face it, Stunning Woman Who Turns Donny Into A Stammering Pile Of Goo Brinks Guard doesn't have the same lyrical ring to it.

Watch as this baby re-enacts my stunned
expression when Hot Brinks Guard came
back. This photo also illustrates that I
would willingly drink a Corona but only
if Hot Brinks Guard handed it to me...

Now Hot Brinks Guard has been missing in action for quite some time - at least a year has passed since she last graced my presence with her lovely visage. I feared she was gone for good. As it turned out, she said she'd been doing the St Catharine's Brink run in that time. I suspect the company shifts them around from time-to-time so that none of the guards build any sort of personal rapport with the customers. Certainly not a problem with the male guards. A huge concern in her case. So we chatted away happily (every time I see her, I try to learn a little more about her and against all odds meet with some measures of success) while I pulled together the cash for her sad, inevitable departure. As she was leaving, she glanced into the beer cooler and joked, "Let's just lock the door and drink some beer!" What I said? "That's a great idea! Tell the driver to go ahead without you." What I thought? "What baby names do you like?"

The second she was gone, I texted former coworker Gordo at his new store. Gordo knows my infatuation with Hot Brinks Guard all too well. In fact, since the Brinks drop is an aspect of our job that has to be done absolutely to the letter, he once told me, "Dude, you seriously have to calm down when you see her. When it comes to Brinks, you have to pay full attention to what you're supposed to be doing."

When the guy at Stone Hammer head
office called my store to say they'd be
adding their Oatmeal Coffee Stout to our
Stone Hammer line, he probably wasn't
expecting my response which was, "Are
you shitting me?" "Uh no," he replied.
"Sweet, that's my absolute favourite of
Stone Hammer's beers!!" At that point,
he laughed and said, "Very good to hear!"

Well, after receiving my text, "Holy f**k! Hot Brinks Guard is back! My heart is racing like 100 mph!!", he likely thinks I have some sort of hearing/listening impairment. Reading my schoolboy crush text, Gordo chuckled and replied, "All you need to make this day better is to see me." Uhhhh, yeah, sure, whatever floats your boat, Freakshow.

All I know is a very dull and dreary morning instantly turned to sunshine and frikkin' rainbows. Hot Brinks Guard was back. It turns out that sometimes, life is very fair and will provide you with a breath-taking view on occasion.

Okay, reluctantly dragging my arse away from matters of the heart to the far more level-headed world of beer (a different kind of love), the clocks at Donny's Bar and Grill are all finally in alignment after some were adjusted for Daylight Saving Time while others were forgotten. Lemme put it this way - my phone, laptop and alarm clock all do that hour-back thing automatically. Except for my wristwatch, any clock in this place I had to manually adjust, well, that's a 10 to 14 day process. If I notice... or think of it... or bother. The fact is I'm so lazy that if I was kidnapped, I'd look around and simply shrug, "Well, I guess I live here now."

There are a handful of people out there who have a pretty good sense of my tastes in craft beer. Certainly Beer Bros Stevil St Evil and Glenn have a solid handle on it. Co-workers Jay-Dawg and Marie are in that not-so-select club, as well. As Jay-Dawg has noted, "If it's way too hoppy for me, you'll love it." But pretty much at the top of the list are Rib Eye Jack's Ale House's beer technician Kylie and general manager Steve.

That's the double dry-hopped Headstock IPA in
the bottle while the regular version is there in
the can. The former can had that bright orange
design you see on the bottle label. However, I'm
colourblind so I never cared but apparently, it
was graphically unappealing to those drinkers
with normal colour sight. Such picky people...

So when Rib Eye Steve texted me the other morning to tell me that my local home boys, Nickel Brook Brewing, had a limited supply of bottles of specially-made double dry-hopped Headstock IPA and Naughty Neighbour American Pale Ale, I paid attention. (All of my high school teachers would like to know his secret. It's not that hard, educators. Talk about beer. Or be Hot Brinks Guard.) I had seen it on Twitter or Facebook or somewhere but likely before my first coffee of the day so it fell out of my brain faster than my son eats a Pop Tart when he's suppose to be eating a healthy snack and hears me coming down the stairs.

But back to the beers. Rib Eye Steve graciously offered to grab me some on his way into work so I was like, perfect, thanks! And knowing that Naughty Neighbour APA was one of Jay-Dawg's favourites, I told him about it, as well. "Supposed to be really good. Steve at Rib Eye Jack's says so," I told him. That's all Jay-Dawg needed to hear. Knowing my respect for both Kylie's and Steve's opinions, he stopped into the brewery on the way home and texted me a picture of the Nickel Brook beer booty in his back seat. The text simply said, "... so 44 bucks later." Okay, with their shift to the new Hamilton facility they share with Collective Arts Brewing, this has been a period of adjustment for Nickel Brook.

And this would be the double dry-hopped version
of the Naughty Neighbour American Pale Ale in
the retro bottle. The regular version is in the can.
I'm sorry but I will never be convinced that the
new label is better than the old classic but then
again, these are matters of graphic design and best
left to the pros. All I really care about is the beer.

The bigger tanks at the new facility originally proved to be tricky for the brewers, used to the tried-and-true brewing methods of the smaller tanks in the Drury Lane facility in Burlington. Don't get me wrong - the beers at the new place were still pretty good but not quite there. That said, I continued to buy my growlers of Headstock here and there, carefully monitoring as they got closer to their Burlington glory. The fact is they're my hometown brew crew (shop locally, people) and having hung with Brewer Patrick one night as he patiently walked me through the brewing process, I saw first-hand that it's a finicky bit of business. Not much room for error. Smaller tanks, smaller room for error, right? Bigger tanks, same Math applicable. But Brewmaster Ryan is reputed to be something of a perfectionist and he and his loyal squadron of brewers are getting damn close. And they are hitting it out of the park with the new Collective Arts beers, particularly the Ransack the Universe IPA, which is "you'd step over your momma for one" good. (No disrespect meant to your Momma. Except she's fat.)

So what is double dry-hopped beer? Well, I am not a brewer but I will try to get this right. Single dry hopping means adding hops to the fermented beer a few days before bottling or kegging. Double dry-hopping means adding hops on two separate occasions such as a week before and then again a few days before.

Ah, yes, Amsterdam Brewing's Fracture Imperial IPA
is now in the liquor store and completely worth the few
extra shekels you will shell out for it. Dynamite beer!

So why do that? It adds hugely to the aroma and if your nose smells it, your tongue tastes it. This is also why we always pour our beer into a glass - both to smell it and release the carbonation. As Mr Burns would say, "Release the hops and malts, Smithers." When I collected my beer stash from Rib Eye Steve, he noted succinctly, "You are going to love this Headstock."

Was he right? Well, lemme put it this way. One day, he will be wrong... but this was not that day.
Tropical fruits on the nose, more on the tongue with huge lingering bitterness. And I mean, it really lingered. Might still be there. But as soon as I tried one, I instantly drove to the brewery for another dozen because, well, limited time. That gave me a chance to talk to Retail Robbie, who told me Nickel Brook owner John wanted special batches of Headstock and Naughty Neighbour (their two anchor beers) to ship to the United States. Americans, you are in for a treat. Trust your Canucknucklehead brother.

Naughty Neighbour was more of the same. Same citrus and pine on the nose, except it was like someone whacked you in the face with a pine tree. Jay-Dawg was beside himself over the taste.

Well, actually, selling beer IS my day job
but I like sentiment behind this bar sign!

Now as you can see from the pictures on my patio, I had both the regular versions of Headstock and Naughty Neighbour, as well as the double dry-hopped ones. How did they compare? Okay, lessee, last night I barbequed chicken wings for my son and myself. As I did so, I instantly wished the BBQ sauce was double dry-hopped. The ketchup we put on our fries? Why isn't it double dry-hopped? Because the beer I was drinking with it sure was. The originals are among my all-time favourites. But the double dry-hopped are the Hot Brinks Guards of beer. That good. Damn, Nickel Brook, well done! I'll be back again tomorrow for a full case of that Headstock.

Okay, turns out Steve and Kylie aren't the only ones at Rib Eye Jack's Ale House paying attention to beer. Rib Eye Regular Steve, a genial bearded chap, was recently telling me that Amsterdam Brewing (Toronto) was releasing their fantastic Fracture Imperial IPA in the liquor store any minute. (Frankly, I know too many Steve's. Two more and I'm gonna start numbering them because I'm running out of nicknames.) "It's a little pricier," he told me, "but hey, it's Fracture."

Since I spend a majority of my time trying to convince
Stevil St Evil that I am, in fact, Batman, he created
this picture and simply noted, "If you ARE Batman,
 this is probably the only way you'd ever respond to
the Bat Signal." What can I say? He's right, you know

Well, he was absolutely right. It's out and at $16.95 a six-pack, yes, maybe a little pricier by a couple of bucks. But at 9.1% and 115 IBUs (international bitterness units), you can't expect them to give it away. Using Simcoe, Columbus and Centennial hops, this little bomb-blast is also... double dry-hopped, which is getting to be a bit of a theme in my life. Mango on the nose, way more mango on tongue, tons of staying power - so much so that if Ted Nugent was singing about it, he'd be all screeching... ♫ It's a wango tango mango! ♫ (This is why I don't write songs. And probably why Ted Nugent shouldn't, either.) After Nickel Brook's Immodest IIPA, this is one of the best you'll ever have. But that might just be me being a homer. This is truly an outstanding beer for hop-heads.

Moving from hoppy goodness to malty lagers, my store started carrying Rainier Lager earlier in the Summer. I knew I had heard of it before but being as it's a Pacific North American beer, I couldn't figure out why. When I Google Imaged the beer, it turned out that it made the occasional guest appearance in the TV show, Frasier (along with his father Martin's beloved Ballantine.)

Courtesy of the Toronto Star and Toronto Public
Library Archives comes this 1971 photo taken by
Boris Spremo. While it is an interesting enough
photo, it was the cutline that cracked me up. And
I quote directly: "Carried Away: A drink-at-home
enthusiast takes comfort from the fact that he gets
to save time and money." So he's a drink-at-home
enthusiast rather than the far more accurate
neighbourhood pisstank? Times have changed.

It turns out Rainier Brewing started up shop in Seattle way back in 1884. A little more than a century later, it was bought out Stroh's and then later by Pabst. In 1999, the brewery was shut down for good. I now remember Stevil St Evil telling me about his Vancouver days and how he and his buddies used to do border runs into Washington state to buy dirt-cheap bargain beer. Rainier was one of them. "It was something like 10 bucks a case," he chuckled. "It was filthy swill but at the time, we didn't care so it did the job." Meaning simply it had alcohol in it. Now brewed in Canada by Sleeman's, Rainier only comes in 15-pack cans. According to the Beer Store index (which is, of course, provided by the brewers themselves), this is its commercial description: "Rainier beer bring together nature's bounty from the great Northwest. Pure spring waters combine with golden barley and verdant hops to produce a beer rich in taste and texture..." And it goes on but I'll stop there. So I bought a 15-pack to try it. With one sip, 14 of them were instantly relegated to the bottom shelf of the fridge in Donny's Bar and Grill - an area known only as Guest Beers. Took me about two seconds to Friend-Zone this ugly sister. Thin even by mainstream beer standards, they got the spring water part right but I remain dubious about the inclusion of golden barley and verdant hops. Just... don't. I'm not sure how we wronged Seattle but this was just cruel.

Okay, I am a mile (or 1.6 kilometres) behind in my beer reviews so I'll be back very soon to play a little catch-up. In the meanwhile, I just read that everyone on Earth has a perfect doppelganger - someone that looks exactly like them. If you'll excuse me, I have to go find mine and steal his liver. By any means necessary. But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here! Until next time, I remain...

The sinking ship of print... AND BEER!!!

But if Playboy is no longer showing pictures of
naked women, where else can we find sexy pics
of Marge Simpson in various stages of undress?

As a former journalist-editor for a couple of decades-plus, I have been watching the slow death of the print industry, first from within as a player, now on the sidelines as a spectator because, well, the print teams still on the field are getting smaller and smaller each year. Most of the guys I graduated J-School with were pushed to the sidelines years ago and long ago landed in other fields. I lasted longer than most but that's just blind luck - good or bad, I'm still not certain. If I was on the Titanic, I would have been the guy successfully convincing his drunken pals to steal a life-raft for a joy ride a half-hour before it hit the iceberg. So... luck.

But now that I'm out of the industry and no longer financially-dependent on it, it's actually still pretty grizzly to watch the print industry continually adjust itself in a market-place that largely has no interest. Even as a journalist, I was reading the news, sports and even the comics online. Why buy when it's there for free? And magazines and even books are every bit as susceptible to the downsizing trend as newspapers are.

Unfortunately for these aliens, their message landed in the
offices of Playboy magazine, which no longer has any nudes.

Let's take the example of Playboy magazine here, one because it's instantly recognizable to everyone and two, because it's Playboy. About five years ago, I noticed they adjust their monthly print run to 10 times a year, combining first July and August into one issue and then January and February. Not many people noticed and the only reason I did is that I instantly sensed a disturbance in The Bunny Force. Don't even try - it's a Jedi thing. Then just a few weeks back, I was more than a little shocked to read that Playboy would no longer be using pictures of naked women in the magazine. Pictures of pretty young ladies will still be in there in various stages of undress - lingerie and the like - but no full nudity.

When I told my young friend Jonny about this at the recent Rib Eye Jack's Beer Fest, he looked at me blankly and said, "Well, then, what's the point?"

♫ Goodbye, Norma Jean... ♫ This was the 
landmark first issue of Playboy published
way back in 1953. Publisher Hugh Hefner
never put a date on it because he wasn't sure
there would be a second issue of the magazine

Indeed, what is the point? Now the Playboy executives have told us they're eliminating the nudity because it's redundant in this day and age when it's available 24/7 on the internet. This is very true. Or so I've been told anyway. (Note to self: delete Google search history.) Personally, I think they broached the non-nudity rebranding with 89-year-old Hugh Hefner when he was having one of his "Where am I? Are all these girls my daughters?" days. (Yeah, right, more like great grand-daughters, dude.) So what's left? Well, I suppose as the magazine's executives are telling us there's the many excellent articles but honestly, saying you read Playboy for the articles is a little like saying you only go onto Pornhub to see if the plumber did end up fixing that lady's sink.

Now in the end, I don't really care about Playboy's decision. Haven't bought one in years. (You wanna see Miss March 2013? Guess what? Google.) My sole concern is there will now be an entire generation who will never know the vicarious thrill of sneaking into the "old man's" Playboys for a dirty peek. My late father had a staggeringly huge collection that spanned the entire 1960s and early 1970s and believe me when I say, in my youth, my friends and I got more enjoyment from those than he likely did.

If you're an IPA fan and find yourself in the
vicinity of Rib Eye Jack Ale House, order up a
Great Lakes Brewery Maniacal Hopshop IPA.
This 6.4%, 70 IBU (international bitterness
units) hop blast is all tropical fruit on the nose
with more fruit and pine on the tongue. Another
of the brewery's outstanding Tank Ten series,
it won't be available long. In fact, restaurant
GM Steve managed to somehow score the last
available keg. Get some before I drink it all...

We read the hell out of those articles. Sneaking them back in the boxes in the exact right order was the Tetris challenge of that time period.

But using Playboy as a microcosm of the print industry at large, it's easy to see the boats are getting smaller every day and well, that iceberg is not that far away in the distance. Ironically, since leaving journalism (walking the plank may be more accurate), I have landed safely onshore in the beer industry as a Beer Store employee. Why is that safe? Well, turns out Canadians like to drink and when they do drink, 51% of the time, it's beer (as opposed to 27% for liquor and 22% for wine.) And the beauty of beer is, unlike Playboy or newspapers, you will never be able to download an app for it online. It's much like, I dunno, pastrami - you gotta get out there and buy it, be it at the Beer Store, LCBO or soon, grocery stores. And since I returned to the Beer Store in 2005, one segment of the beer world has seen a staggering rise - craft beer. That year, Ontario craft beer sales through the LCBO alone were less than $2 million. By 2011 (the latest LCBO figures I could find), that was up to $16 million. And since that number was up significantly from the 2010 figure of $10 million, we can safely assume they're upside of $20 million now. And that's just the LCBO numbers, not the Beer Store or breweries themselves.

Truth to tell, I have seen it in my own Beer Store. While the LCBO clearly still gets the lion's share of the craft beer, I have seen my own self-serve Beer Store go from a single top shelf of craft in one aisle to an entire large section by itself. And craft single cans (their soon-to-be preferred sales vessel of choice from what most of my craft beer reps are telling me) are slowly taking over our can shelves and coolers, as well.

And my coworker Jay-Dawg's favourite new 
beer is finally available at the LCBO.  I've
reviewed this before so I'll simply say that if
you see it, buy it. You can thank me later...

So is there any connection between the plunging fate of the print industry (specifically using Playboy as a model) and the sky-rocketing success of craft beer? Oh hell no, none whatsoever. Well, except me. I somehow jumped ship from an ink-soaked sinker into a lifeboat now being propelled by its smallest paddle - the burgeoning demand for craft beer. Make no mistake. I mean, I work at a Beer Store so I know the strength of the big guys - still 90% of our sales. But from tiny acorns grow mighty oaks... and other trite, tired cliches to that effect.

With that said, let's dive fearlessly into a fresh batch of new beers, shall we? What do I know about being fearless? Hey, I went to Thanksgiving Dinner at my Mom's house, not knowing my phone was at 25%. It died just before dessert. I had to share "How's your life going?" stories with her. Nothing scares me now.

So let's start with our friends up in Gravenhurst, Sawdust City Brewing Company. A little more than a year after opening their shiny new 12,000-square-foot brewery on the town's main street (they had previously contracted out of Toronto's Cool Brewing), I inadvertently found out how many of my friends have cottages in the Gravenhurst area this past summer. The reason? The amount of Facebook messages I got, asking if I had heard of them and the inevitable follow-up, "Should I go visit them?"

Recent Sawdust City Brewing additions to my store included their Ol'
Woody Alt and Gateway Kolsch. That Lone Pine IPA? Yeah, that's LCBO
only still but I think the cans of Muskoka Mad Tom IPA and Amsterdam
Boneshaker IPA we sell could use some competition. Just sayin', Sawdust!

My answers, in order, were "Yes" and "Why are you still talking to me? Go already!" (One buddy accidentally called them Stardust City but I like that name, too.)

The brewery actually caught my attention some two years ago when I first tried their Lone Pine IPA and Long Dark Voyage to Uranus Imperial Stout (the latter, still one of the best names in Canadian craft brewing.) Still brewed out of Cool at that point, I pretty much rhapsodized about these two beers. I think I may have gotten positively gushy.

When Beer Bro Glenn recently popped into
Donny's Bar and Grill, he came with a Stone
Brewing Drew & Steve's Imperial Mutt Brown
Ale. Brewers are really starting to up their game
with brown ales, a formerly tired boring style...

While coworker Jay-Dawg and I have been patiently waiting for their Golden Beach Pale Ale - a favourite from the Burlington Beer Festival - to show up in stores (it finally did a few weeks back), we had both their Ol' Woody Alt and Gateway Kolsch land on our shelves during the summer. Both lagered ales, the Kolsch is the lighter of the pair while the Ol' Woody pours a deep dark hue. The Gateway has a very faint grassy aroma and is very lager-like and lightly bitter on after-taste. Nice Summer beer. But with Autumn upon us, I will likely be dipping in the Ol' Woody well a little more frequently. Nutty on the nose, thick, malty and bready on the tongue and at 35 IBU, just a tang of hops at the end. My favourite of the pair.

Beer Bro Glenn was a visitor at Donny's Bar and Grill recently because... well, I often forget to lock my doors. However, among the treats in his goodie bag was a Stone Brewing Drew & Steve's Imperial Mutt Brown Ale - the name a play off 'nut brown'. While I would love to tell you it smelled like wet dog just for the irony factor, Glenn got coffee off the aroma, I got licorice. And the taste? Well, at 9% and 45 IBUs, this ain't your grandpappy's brown ale. Using Vienna, Victory and Chocolate Wheat malts, Stone brewers Drew Neldon and Steve Via created a brown ale more than worth drinking with its chocolate and coffee on the tongue. The pair won this year's annual Stone in-house brewing competition with this bad boy.

Why did Stone call this Arrogant Bastard Ale?
Well, a quick read of the back label tells you.

And since we have the Escondido, California brewery in our sights, let's have a look-see at Stone's Arrogant Bastard Ale, which surfaced a while back in the liquor store. Glenn asked me if I'd ever had it and I responded in the affirmative. It turns out I was thinking of Rogue Ales' Dead Guy Ale so in fact, no, I hadn't. Not my first mistake. I once told a super pissed-off girlfriend to "calm down and be reasonable" so I know from mistakes. At least, the Arrogant Bastard didn't turn out to be a near-death experience like that. In related news, given sufficient motivation, it turns out I can run quite quickly. Even in sandals. But back to the beer. In keeping with its name, the back label tells us: "This is an aggressive ale. You probably won't like it. It is quite doubtful that you have the taste or sophistication to be able to appreciate an ale of this quality and depth." While it's true that I have neither taste nor sophistication (it's like they know me, man!), I nonetheless somehow managed to appreciate the quality and depth of this beer. As you can see, this 7.2% ale pours a very dark amber and while the brewery is keeping its IBUs shrouded in mystery (definitely 90-plus), you can smell the hops in the aroma, as well as some citrus and pine. You lose the citrus completely in the deep taste but get some nice dark fruits. I get the feeling that this is the Bastard who killed Kenny. Outstanding beer.

A recent road trip into Toronto saw Rib Eye
Jack's GM Steve, beer technician Kylie and
fun-loving Cara return with a treasure trove
of goodies from Rainhard Brewing. Among
the treasures was the Refuge Imperial IPA

Okay, let's paddle this leaky canoe back to Canadian soil with an offering from Toronto's Rainhard Brewing. Now this relatively-new brewery has hit the ground running and I have told them several times on various social media that I believe they are soon gonna be Brewery of the Year at the next Ontario Brewing Awards. (If not them, then Innocente Brewing out of Waterloo. Again, a coin toss - both are stellar.) So when I had a Refuge Imperial IPA at Rib Eye Jack's Ale House recently, that only solidified their standing in the craft beer community to me. At 8% and 90 IBUs, this has tons of orange on the nose followed by big tropical fruit on the tongue. And it lingers on the tongue for a decent stretch. I would suggest you try their Armed 'N' Citra Pale Ale first as a palate warmer before jumping into this little ass-kicker.

Okay, time to wrap this bad boy up but before I go, let's deal with some recent distressing news. Like most of you, I was stunned to see that recent report in the headlines from scientific researchers telling us that bacon can cause cancer. Until I realized in a very different study conducted over thousands of years, involving billions of people, showed that those who don't smoke, don't drink and don't eat bacon also die! So dammit, I'm gonna continue to smoke, drink good craft beer and eat bacon. I'll roll those dice. Like I said, after that low cell battery debacle, nothing frightens me anymore. I'll leave the final word to my buddy Tony at Nickel Brook who recently texted me with this little gem: "Just saw the trailer for the new Star Wars movie. HOLY F**K!! Chewbacca hasn't aged a day!!!" But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here! Until next time, I remain...