The Family that Drinks Together…

I haven’t been blogging much lately due to a serious case of the Renovation Realities. The last two weeks has included a whirlwind of installing hardwood floors, painting walls and Adirondack chairs, and putting together new patio furniture for the arrival of family. We all embarked on a Chevy Chase-esque road trip to the Garden State for my cousin’s wedding which brings me to Beer Rant 101. My cousin sent out a thank you note a week before the wedding enticing me with a “cooler filled with Troegs.” I never expect good beer at a wedding, but I do expect to drink there because… well, it’s a wedding. They’re not high on my list of fun things to do. In my opinion, the two most important words at a wedding are not “I Do” but Open Bar. Usually I’m stuck at a table somewhere in the hallway (ok, maybe just a dark corner) succumbing to conversations with the DJ, photographer, or wait staff invited to join “the smaller table” for the meal. So after the (thankfully) 5 minute ceremony, I needed a drink. No cooler to be found, I asked the bartender if there was any craft beer and was greeted with my choice of Bud, Corona, and Sam Adams. I knew it was a longshot- not the Sam Adams kind, but the likelihood of good beer- so I “big ass” micro’d with the BBC, begging for at least a glass to pour it in. Hmmm… a little more metallic than I remember. It must be the March 2009 expiration date. A subsequent bottle revealed the same chain link taste. Luckily, the reception was located adjacent to a tavern. I opted out of the Chicken Dance, Macarena, and Electric Slide, made popular at weddings only by cocktail-sipping old folks with new hips and 12 year olds, and found one lone bartender cleaning up at the tavern. Luckily, he took pity on the three of us that snuck out and served up some Hop Back on draft and Chimay Blue bottles, telling us that they’re closing but another bar down the street is open another few hours. We rejoined the wedding (oh, did we miss the cake cutting? Darn…), watched some entertaining version of the white people Soul Train, mouthed congrats to the happy couple, then off to the bar.

My typical conversation with a non-micro brew bartender goes something like this:

Me: “Do you have any craft beer?”
Jager-drinking bartender: “Bud, Bud Light, Michelob, Coors, LaBatt…”
Me: “No, CRAFT beer. CRAFT- with an FT, not CRAP, with a P.”
Gum-chewing barkeep: “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”
Me: (sigh) “Anything in bottles?”
Denier of All Things Delicious: “Bud, Bud Light, Coors …”
Me: (thirsty sigh) “Any imports?”
Satan: “Corona, Dos Equis…”

Once, some Parrothead tending bar even suggested that I try the Jimmy Buffet Land Shark beer despite my emphatic statements that I wasn’t in the mood for citrus piss, especially not mass produced and developed in conjunction with a singer-songwriter-storyteller, so I usually give up and order an iced tea. However, there was one draft choice I was fairly surprised to find- Magic Hat #9. This was one of my “intro” beers, something I drank when I was just started to develop tastes for the different beer styles. Feeling nostalgic, I figured I might as well try one. It’s been years since I last tasted #9, but did they unload a bottle of peach syrup in this thing? I looked at the bottom of the glass expecting a dollop of something gooey similar to ordering a Berliner Weisse and getting green Woodruff, but nothing was there. My beer tastes have come a long way!

I have definitely influenced my family’s beer judgment over the years often calling my parents to ask if they can pick me up some SoCal selections I can’t get here in Pennsylvania and they’ve loaded a closet-full of Angel Share (brandy and bourbon oak barrel-aged) and Older Viscosity that I need to ship back next time I’m in town. Over the weekend, my family (with some guidance) enjoyed Midas Touch, Belgica, Loose Cannon, Big Black Voodoo Daddy, Little Sumptin’ Sumptin’, Stone IRS, Dreamweaver Wheat, and Orchard White, among others. But the real fun centered around the Southern Tier dessert tray I brought out one night, complete with Choklat Imperial Stout, Mokah Imperial Stout, and Crème Brulee Imperial Milk Stout. The Choklat was over a year old and had lost some of that mouth-watering Death by Chocolate syrupy-mess it has fresh but was still really good. Our favorite was the Crème Brulee, with a great vanilla and caramel nose and light but full flavor. It also “scored” the highest among the three when mixed with a forgotten Lindeman’s Framboise. Just a touch of raspberry was needed in each taster of the Southern Tier beers, but any of the three would have you saving room for dessert. I also managed to convince them Kentucky Breakfast Stout can take the place of eggs and bacon in the morning!