Maybe three or four times a year, if I'm far less lucky. (Ohhh, call the Burn Unit - Savage Bro Smackdown Aleft.) I'm kidding, of course, all of my jests are said with
Okay, done dissing Glenn (for this paragraph anyway) because last weekend he made a special trip out here for a couple of reasons. When Hamilton's Collective Arts Brewing created their Imperial IPA and recreated their Black IPA (the same formula as last year's Collective Project Black IPA), I promised Glenn I would get him some cans of both.
But gawd bless his tiny, coal-black heart, which is rapidly faltering as we speak due to years of artery-hardening, fat-saturated, deep-fried foods, as well as a general apathy and indifference towards the pain and suffering of others, except for the neighbour's dog who he really likes. Hang on.... lemme read that back. Oh goddamn, that's not Glenn - that's me! Don't I have egg on my face? (Quick aside to "Buddy") "Who's a good boy! Yes, you are!"
But knowing I had the "Gift of Beer" (cue the celestial harmony of beautiful angels singing) for him, Glenn made sure he wasn't coming empty-handed. So he stopped along the way at Etobicoke's Great Lake Brewing to pick me up some of their recently-released Thrust! An IPA, as well as their ass-kicking Life Sentence Triple IPA, their now-annual collaboration with their pals across town at Amsterdam Brewing. Oh, and for good measure, he also brought me a bomber of their bourbon-barrel-aged Solstice Imperial Stout, which I haven't had yet because of two reasons. Number one, I was too busy, downing those delicious IPAs like Homer Simpson with a plate of doughnuts. And number two, Solstice itself refers to exactly two things - the point of the year when the Sun is closest to the Earth, creating the Summer Solstice or the day that is the longest in terms of sunlight - so June 20th. Or conversely the day when the Northern Hemisphere is farthest from the Sun, making it the shortest day of the year or the Winter Solstice. And that's December 21st. So dammit, I will drink my Solstice on the day of Winter Solstice when the stars and planets are aligned perfectly. Thus the prophets have spoken.
But while I only had six Collective Arts beers for Glenn, he had brought me a six of Thrust!, a six of Life Sentence, as well as the Solstice. There was great inequity that day at Donny's Bar and Grill, my friends. So I slid him some cheddar to make up for it. And when he finished the cheese plate, I gave him cash. I'm all about fairness but usually only fairness for me in every single aspect of my life, not for others. Stupid "giving time of the year."
But while I have praised Thrust! many times in this space, telling it how "pretty you look today" and "Have you lost a little weight?", inevitably I always get down to dull, technical terms such as how the 6.5%, 72 IBU (international bitterness units) beer is "chockful of luscious grapefruit and mango on the nose followed a resiny, tropical fruit finish on the tongue." You know, real Bill Nye The Science Guy kind of stuff. Without the Bill. Or the Nye. Or the Science even. Just beer, really.
So let's move on to this year's Life Sentence Triple IPA then, shall we? As you may (but probably don't) remember from last year, Amsterdam Brewmaster Iain McOustra was in Washington state's Yakima Valley last year and stumbled across 100 kgs (220 pounds) of late harvest Chinook hops. And I mean, he literally tripped over them. So he picked up the phone and called GLB head brewer Mike Lackey. The phone call went something exactly like this:
McOustra: "Hi, can you put me through to Mike?"
Receptionist: "Mike, it's Iain from Amsterdam."
Lackey: "The brewery or the city? I know Iain's from both. I'm very well-traveled, y'know."
Receptionist: "The brewery."
Lackey: "Tell him I'm at lunch."
McOustra: "I heard that! We're on speaker!"
Lackey: "Damn my luck. Hey, man, what's up?"
McOustra: "Hey, I just found 100 kgs of those hops mentioned above in this fictitious account of our conversation. What should I do with them?"
Lackey: "We could... I dunno... make beer?"
McOustra: "Oh man, why didn't I think of that?"
And thus, Life Sentence Triple IPA 2015 was created following a conversation that went absolutely nothing like that.
But the Brewery Boys decided to throw us a curveball for the 2016 edition of Life Sentence. If you look carefully at the can shown above, you will notice the words "Southern Hemisphere" just below the name. So what's that mean? Well, the Southern Hemisphere is all that stuff below the equator, those rat-bastard countries who are enjoying mid-Summer right now while we freeze our nards off up here. Instead of using Chinook this year, Mike and Iain opted for Pacifica Hops from New Zealand in the 2016 batch.
Why? Well, according to Lackey, they thought it would be "great to change the hop bill in Life Sentence each year." Why would they do that if last year's Chinook version was such a huge success? That's simple. Brewers be all cray cray.
So how is the 2016 version? Well, certainly a bit different than last year's but ultimately, still 100 pounds of dynamite in a 473-ml (16 ounce) can. The brewers both liked the pineapple profile of the hop so there is little doubt both that and mango come through on the nose of this 10%, 100 IBU berserker. (So you know, Berserkers were Norse warriors who, according to Icelandic literature, fought in a trance-like state. A few of these and I was in a similar state.) You do get some of that booze on the tongue but not alarmingly so. A little bit fruity but more slyly dry and malty on the tongue than last year's version.
Okay, moving on up to the East Side... what else can I say about Glenn, other than the fact he brought me some damn great beers? Lessee, in 2016, he has thus far eluded the Durham Region Police force on any major charges. (In his defence, minor charges are exactly that - minor. Sorry, I just can't stop. I'm on a sick roll. My bad.) He's a damn good Dad to both his son and two step-sons. I don't know. That's about it. Oh, wait, right, he also had his pretty-boy face plastered on the label of a Manantler Craft Brewing (Bowmanville) Imperial Stout. Not too shabby for my little college buddy of 35 years.
Yup, at some point in the Summer, Manantler decided to honour Glenn, another dude much more manly than Glenn, a couple (twice as manly) and two brothers (more manly squared) on four separate labels for the same Imperial Stout. Glenn swears his sold out first but that could just mean Glenn bought all his labels up first, Still, it would be super-cynical for me to say that. Or type that. Or publish that. (My Diss-A-Bro Button is clearly stuck. Too late now.) No, actually, I honestly thought it was one of the coolest things ever to happen to a friend, except perhaps my buddy, Larry, who won $133,000 in the 6/49 lottery about 10 years ago. No disses for Larry. He has money.
So Glenn gave me a couple of bottles of their Legends Imperial Stout, which I enjoyed recently and should review. Except it's Glenn's beer, not mine, so let's check out his RateBeer review of this brave 9% Imperial Stout that dared to put his face on a label.
Here we go, folks. Buckle up for Glenn's review. "Roasted coffee on the nose and coffee, bitter chocolate and a touch of licorice on the tongue. Smooth and rich and delicious." Dude, seriously? I can't get you to shut up, like, ever and Manantler gets two sentences? You didn't even use any vowels! What, were you paying for words that day? Did the Word People charge by the syllable? Manantler, I actually agree with his review but would add there was a nice bitterness on the back end and some nice roasty malts on the nose. Really great stout, gang.
Okay, poor Glenn, I've slammed him pretty good here. But this is how life-long guy friends talk to each other. Women compliment each other all the time... but really don't really mean it. Guys crap on each other... but also don't mean it at all. He made a special trip to GLB just to bring me those beers. That was the only reason he stopped there. Well, actually, he grabbed some for himself, too, so let's not get all "He's a modern-day Mother Teresa" here. But Great Lakes, Amsterdam and Manantler, thank you for those outstanding beers. And Glenn, you disgusting and hideous piece of filth, thank you for getting them to me. Love ya, Broseph. But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here. Until next time, I remain...
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