Earning my Triple Crown (without the aid of a drinking helmet)

I don't know if there's a special ceremony for a man's first Triple IPA, but I thought there should be.

I found Devil Dancer, a 12 per cent hop and malt monster from Founder's Brewing in Kalamazoo, Michigan, at a Consumer`s Beverages outlet in Niagara Falls. Having never tried such a rare treat, I couldn`t pass it up, despite its nearly $10 price for a 355 ml bottle.

Still, I waited several days after I returned home before breaking out the bottle. I didn`t light any candles or perform any special rituals, save for a cryptic message on Facebook stating that it was "time."

A few of my friends yawned or asked "time for what," while others understood the gravity of the situation (Marie) and said they were jealous.

That's the response I was going for.

As for the beer, I can tell you it was definitely something that should have required my drinking helmet. With 112 IBUs, this was powerful stuff.

Devil Dancer Triple IPA (Founders)

The rare and illusive Triple IPA

Pours dark and oily with a creamy, almost stout-like head. Smell is all bitter piney hops. Taste is pine, alcohol, roasted caramel and subtle hints of citrus, though that is the only thing subtle about it. Extremely smooth for a 12 per cent beer and though I can taste the alcohol, it is muted. This is dry-hopped for 26 days using ten different hops and the result is big, bold and boozy, like Andre the Giant on a 100-beer binge.

I followed up that bottle with a bomber of another new (and rare) beer: Racer X from Bear Republic in Cloverdale, California. I've had their excellent Racer 5 IPA before but this IIPA? New to me.

Racer X (Bear Republic)

This beer is not to be taken lightly either, with 100-plus IBUs and 8.3 per cent alcohol, though drinking helmets were not mandatory. It poured a cloudy bronze with a creamy head and a strong citrus aroma on the nose. I got orange, dark fruits and floral flavours, along with pine and sweet malts, more citrus and a bit of booze at the finish. Damn good, and Rate Beer certainly agreed: it scored a perfect 100.

I decided then, even though it was already an hour past my bedtime (four a.m. comes early out here), I had to have an IPA before I hit the sack. I mean, a Triple IPA, followed by a Double IPA? It stood to reason that I had to go for the triple crown, so I chose Finestkind IPA from Smuttynose Brewing in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

Finestkind IPA (Smuttynose)

This 6.9 per cent beer scored a 96 on Rate Beer, which is not too shabby at all. I got tangerine, light pine and a hint of pineapple. There's a little sweetness with the malts and plenty of tartness with the hops. Not an overpowering beer but nicely balanced. Really good.

Seeing as I still have a bunch of new beers from the trip to rate, I'll get to some of them now. Specifically, the west coast beers. Four from California and one from Seattle, Washington.

Stone IPA

Poured a rich golden with citrus on the nose. Nicely balanced: grapefruit and orange on the tongue, pleasant bitterness on the finish. 6.9 per cent 70-plus IBUs. Pretty awesome beer and Rate Beer agreed. giving it a perfect score.

Hop Ottin' IPA (Anderson Valley)

Pours a deep bronze. Prominent malts hit you first, followed by lemony hops which trickle in all subtle-like. Bready backbone on the finish. But I was expecting a bit more (especially hops) from an IPA rated 97 on Rate Beer.

Unapologetic IPA (Stone Brewing, in collaboration with Beachwood and Heretic Brewers)

This is a big beer. Nine per cent with 90 IBUs, this collaboration scored 98 on Rate Beer. This is also a malt-forward IPA, not normally my style, that I absolutely loved. The booze is masked nicely but there is a solid sweet malt backbone and some potent piney hops at the end to ensure you show this brew respect.

Sweet Baby Jesus! Nine per cent and 90 IBUs and it's soooo smooth. I get dark fruits and bitter orange and some seriously earthy hops. Why can't everyone make beers like this?

Alesmith IPA

Cloudy orange pour, all pine and sweet malts on the nose, powerful hop punch on the palate. Tangerine, plums, tropical fruits, grapefruit vie for top honours with a solid malt base. Top notch IPA with a 100 score. San Diego classic

The Immortal IPA (Elysian)

This northwest beer scored a little lower than its friends - 91 - but wasn't a bad brew at all. It was bright and citrusy with a nice bitter finish.

Cheers!

Border beer stores are the bomb for beer lovers

Yes, fellow beer lovers, there is a Santa Claus.

Santa lives and works at Beers of the World, an enchanted place in Rochester, New York where presents - in the form of IPAs, Stouts and other exotic elixirs - are awarded to all the needy people of the world. At least the ones willing to drive to Rochester to get them.

This Santa Claus, regrettably, doesn't deliver.

As soon as I decided on Rochester as the destination for a three-day getaway I was planning with my son, I searched for the best beer store in the city.

Seriously. Doesn't everybody?

I discovered Beers of the World on the first google search and one look at the website, where the beers are itemized by country, sealed the deal.

Rochester, N.Y.

This place is what beer stores could be and should be. It's Heaven, Eden and the Promised Land, all rolled into one. Not to get all religious with my metaphors, but I'm drinking a couple of heavenly IIPAs from that place as I write this and I'm feeling real spiritual.

One look inside this place and you'll be a convert too.

I've been to awesome beer stores south of the border before: Total Wine in Orlando is an amazing place, but three-quarters of the building is reserved for stuff other than beer. Beers of the World is ALL beer. All the time.

I found beers - especially IPAs and all its cousins - from nearly every state in the union and bought as many as I could fit in my shopping cart. Stone, Ballast Point and Alesmith from San Diego; Founders and Bells from Michigan; Smuttynose from New Hampshire and Dogfish Head from Delaware; just to name a few.

I scored beers some international beers as well, though Brew Dog's Punk IPA (Scotland) and 8 Wired's Hopwired (New Zealand) were not to be found on this trip. Next time.

My bill was $113 and well worth every penny.

Two days later we were in Niagara Falls and though I had hardly made a dent in my stash, I decided to top up my take-home case and called in at the Consumer's Beverages Center.

Consumer's Beverages is much smaller than Beers of the World - convenience store sized, compared to grocery superstore sized - but what it lacks in size it makes up in quality.

This is the place I found Alesmith IPA (still in my fridge waiting for the call) and Bell's most awesome Two Hearted Ale. Both brews scored perfect 100s on Rate Beer. It's also where I found Devil Dancer from Founders, a 12 per cent Triple IPA and my first IIIPA ever. More on that in a future blog.

Niagara Falls, N.Y.

While Beers of the World had an incredible choice in singles, the Consumer;s Beverages outlet carried mostly six-packs and an amazing assortment of hard-to-find bomber bottles.

Nearly fifty bucks later I\m headed back to the hotel, trying to figure out how I'm going to stash the extra bottles for the next day's border crossing. Worth every penny and worth every risk.

We really need beer stores like Beers of the World and Consumer's Beverages in Ontario.

Truly a beer geek's paradise.

                                                                         *

I have a ton of beers to review but for this blog I'll just talk about the New York State beers, plus one from nearby Cleveland and the Two Hearted Ale from Bell's Brewery.

Commodore Perry is the signature IPA from Great Lakes Brewery in Cleveland. (Not to be confused with Canada's Brewery of the Year, Great Lakes in Toronto, as I very nearly was last spring. ) I got citrus on the nose, along with grapefruit and some tropical fruit. It was nicely hopped but not overpowering, with a nice bitter finish.

Seven point five per cent ABV with 80 IBUs, the beer scored 94 on Rate Beer.

Next up was Flower Power IPA from Ithaca Brewery, which turned out to be the best of the New York bunch.

The NY State Champion IPA

Flower Power scored a 98 on Rate Beer and with 7.5 per cent ABV and 75 IBUs, it packed a pretty good punch. It poured a deep amber with a thin head and it produced big citrus hops and lots of pine that smack you upside the head right away. Then it was some malt sweetness meeting a dynamite resiny bitterness at the finish. A real solid IPA.

The Kind IPA from Three Heads was next and this 6.8 per cent brew was hoppy on the nose with a medium bitterness. A decent if unspectacular beer.

Lake Placid IPA was next and while I declared Flower Power to be the state champion, this beer (6.8 per cent, 64 IBUs) did not put me in a New York state of mind. It poured very dark with a creamy head and the first taste is caramel malts with subdued citrus hops and a bit of a metallic finish. Not my thing.

Southern Tier's 2XIPA got me back on the winning track, delivering big piney hops right away and citrus and bitter hops on the palate. Super clean and very smooth. Damn good.

The final New York beer was Hoptical Illusion from Blue Point Brewery. Not to be confused with Hoptical Illusion from Flying Monkeys in Barrie, which, by the way, was found on the shelves at Consumer's Beverages.

This beer, which scored just 89 on Rate Beer, was tasty, though not as hoppy as advertised. Malts and piney hops battle it out with lots of carbonation, and though there are hints of citrus up front, there wasn't a lot of bitterness on the finish. Drinkable.

Two Hearted Ale from Bell's Brewery in Kalamazoo may be the best IPA of the trip and the first six was so good I went back the next day to grab another. There are still a few in my fridge today. Mmmmm...

This beer, which scored 100 on Rate Beer (with 100 points for style as well!) gave me huge - and I mean huge - citrusy hops right off the bat. I picked up some tropical fruits and a floral bouquet, but it was mostly citrus-grapefruit with a bit of lemon, along with a big bitter finish.

Smooth. Outstanding. It deserved its perfect score.

Cheers!

Scots kicking it auld skool with family, friends, freedom (and beer)

The night drove on with songs and clatter. And aye, the ale was growing better
Tam o' Shanter, Robbie Burns

"Tell our enemies that they may take our lives but they will never take our freedom"
William Wallace (played by American-born Australian of mostly Irish stock Mel Gibson) in Braveheart

With historic independence votes, family reunions, legendary beer writers, prodigious feats of strength and a scotch ale with a Canadian twist,  it's been a very Scottish summer for me and my family.

Thursday's Scottish vote for independence was a massive international event with huge implications for the Scots in particular, as well as for every UK citizen.

But until the last few weeks - at about the same time the No side realized the working class people were overwhelmingly voting Yes - it was a back-of-the-mind story happening an ocean away. I didn't really pay attention to it all until just a few days ago.

I joked with my Scottish pals about independence, shouting "Freedom" in my best Mel Gibson voice, but in my heart I believed Scotland to be better off in the Union and was happy with the result, with No forces taking 55 per cent of the vote.

Scots certainly took the vote seriously, with nearly 85 per cent of eligible voters casting ballots, a number that is about double what Canadians get for a hotly contested election over here.

So while the referendum was historic, the highlight of my Scottish season was the reunion we hold every year or so to catch up on gossip, take a dip in the pool, drink a beer or two, and most importantly, to remember where we came from: a wee seaside village so hard on Scotland's North Sea coast it gets wet dreams whenever the tide rolls in.

All of us Canadians (and a few Americans as well) who can trace our roots back to the enchanted village of Pennan make a point of being available the second weekend in August for the party - dubbed the Gatt Family Reunion - which was held this year at my cousin's home in Toronto's posh Bluffs neighbourhood.

The common demominator for everyone in attendance is my Nana, Jean Hendry (nee Gatt), who hailed from Pennan before marrying my grandfather, Fred Hendry, a townie from nearby Fraserburgh.

Nana, who would have turned 111 in January, never forgot her roots, and if you see the picture below, you can understand why. Still, beautiful can be dangerous and with the wild open ocean in front and towering cliffs that threaten to crush the village's single street behind (a very real concern in recent years), it is not a place for the soft.

Pennan, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Rugged and beautiful

Which made it a perfect plunder, pillage and holiday spot for marauding Vikings of a thousand years ago (we like to think we still have Norse blood flowing in our veins) who sailed here for the fishing and the women, as well as the view.

Some still do, though less so for the fishing these days. Tourists still come for the view, as well as the famous red telephone box from the 80s cult film classic, Local Hero. (That phone box, by the way, was originally a prop but after much public outcry installed permanently on the village's main street, six years after the movie's release in 1983.)

Visitors also come to this part of north-east Scotland for the beer - Brew Dog's Punk IPA is one of Scotland's (and Fraserburgh's) greatest gifts to the world - but I digress. There's more to family reunions than beer and nice views after all.

There's family, to start. I have aunts (no uncles left, alas) and four generations of cousins to chat up - most of whom I only see at these parties - and for the older members of the family, there's always the fear I won't see them again.

There are also the newcomers to the family, and I brought some of them to the reunion. I even used them as fodder for trash talk.

"The Hendrys are going to kick ass at this party," I crowed to Jamie Lyn, my slightly confused cousin in the days leading up to the event, citing my three awesome grandkids and my daughter-in-law Katie, who was three weeks away from delivering my fourth grandchild - darling Josie - to the world.

"I'm bringing a very pregnant girl and a major announcement from a member of the family. What are YOU bringing?"

As it happened,  Jamie and family already knew about the big announcement (my brother Brian shocked us all by tying the knot this summer in Anguilla) and, as I mentioned, Josie hadn't made her appearance yet. So I knew what Jamie's answer would be. And I knew if I had put money on my boast I was going to lose, because she was bringing her daughter Addison, The Adorable One.

Damn stars make it hard to get
a decent pic of the Adorable One

Addison, who just turned one (her birthday party was held the day before our reunion), is the most photographed child in the history of photography. And in each of these pics she is absolutely adorable.

She never seems to fuss, fidget or fight and she has a Mona Lisa smile in every picture. It is uncanny, really.

With a house full of women to dote on her - cousin Logan struck out on his own, leaving only Addison's father Shawn to represent the male influence - it's no bloody wonder, I suppose.

So I raised a can of Red Racer IPA (see how I bring it all back to beer?) to Addison, still adorable even after soiling my second best shirt with the remains of her chocolate cake dessert, and went back to socializing and seeing what everyone was drinking.

I had made sure to bring some decent IPAs to the party - a couple of Red Racers and a Mad Tom - figuring any freebies would be the usual commercial crap. But brother Brian surprised me with a cooler filled with some of Keith's Hop Series as well as some German beers with my enjoyment in mind. Not my cup o' tea, but I appreciated the gesture and the cooler proved quite popular with some, notably my budding rock star cousin Logan (gratuitous plug - check out the band St. Andrews and how Scottish is that?), who eagerly enjoyed the Keiths, while announcing he was starting to embrace the craft beer scene.

(Logan also had this to say about beer and beer drinking: "I must be getting old. I used to be able to drink a case easy. Now if I have ten I'm done." He is, I think, 23. But I did say he was a rock star.)

I also ran into Peter, a Texan who married into the family a while back. My dad mentioned to him that I write a beer blog - "IPA Tales," he was told ("Dad, you remembered!"), a tidbit that perked up Peter. "That's my favourite style," he said, happily announcing Stone IPA as his top choice.

Hello! You need to come to all the reunions, Peter. Between the two of us we'll change the world. Or at least my clan's taste in beer.

(Seeing as this is a Scottish blog, I should to point out that famed San Diego brewery Stone has collaborated with Brew Dog several times. Just to bring it all back to Aberdeenshire and that Circle of Beer thing.)

We talked about things other than beer at the reunion, but at this multi-generational house (presided over by my Auntie Jan, the family matriarch) the topics tend to gravitate to kids and their issues more than Scottish independence. Scotland is near and dear to this family - five of the ladies just returned from a Scottish vacation - but independence is an issue best left to those who live there. But that's just me.

Our kids though? They are our future. Even the kids who pranked my cousin Christine's house that night, plastering it with for sale signs. Them too, especially as it could have been her kids anyway.

                                                                                                                    *

This is what a Beer Writer of the Year looks like in
New Zealand. Yes, he gets paid to do this

The other newsworthy event (with a slightly Scottish spin) that took place this summer was the selection of Neil Miller as Beer Writer of the Year by the Brewer's Guild of New Zealand.

Neil, a new pal, was a famed Kiwi writer with an thing for moose touching before this honour. Now, while his ungulate obsession and general love for all things Canadian remains unabated, his writing status has been upgraded to Legendary.

And well deserved at that.

Neil's Malthouse blogs are always funny and informative, with a two-part tale dubbed The Greyhound Story standing out this year. In this, Neil regales us with the story of how, down on his luck at the track, he watched his dogs finish 1-2-3 - a rare trifecta - only to see the race scratched and his winning tickets invalidated because of alleged shenanigans on the track. The worst part about it, he lamented, was that he had no part in the fix.

It seems the 'rabbit' fell off the motorized rail, causing the three leading greyhounds to attack it, with the next dog bounding into the middle of the ground and "rather brutally" killing a real goose. "My dogs ran on," Neil remembered with pride, "mainly because they were so far behind the pack they probably did not see the rabbit or the goose, All these soon to be gloriously victorious creatures probably heard was me cheering them on from the most prestigious seating area in the ground."

His Honourary Canadian title (photoshop skills courtesy of fellow Musketeer Steve) was awarded shortly after being named Beer Writer of the Year and was given partly for that momentous achievement and partly because of his self-proclaimed infatuation with us Canucks. Mr. Miller's favourite Canadian, William Shatner, inexplicably failed to acknowledge the beer writing crown but number two on the list, Stephen Beaumont, the world's richest beer writer (in prose if not in actual salary) was effusive in his praise for the man.

Neil Miller - our honourary Canadian

(Somewhere in that thread I inadvertently challenged Beaumont to prove his own Canadian status by humming the Hockey Night in Canada theme, and got this response back: "Of course I can! Dah, da-dah-dah. Dah dah dah dah dah dah. Dah, dah da-dah..." and so forth. I'm sorry I doubted you Stephen.

Neil, you are now the fourth-most famous native of Bathurst, Scotland, after Sir James Young Simpson (the inventor of chloroform); John Newland (who parlayed the profits from a slave-laboured sugar cane plantation into fame as the founder of Bathurst Academy); and racing legend Dario Franchitti.

Any time you want to visit us in the frozen north, I can guarantee you great beer, at least one moose to touch, and probably Beaumont.

With his fame and fortune he may even be able to provide Shatner.

                                                                                 *

My Scottish summer had its start earlier in July when the J Man and I got our kilts on and ventured north to the hills of Uxbridge for the Durham Highland Games.

Okay, We really didn't get wear kilts. It's just a figure of speech. But I would of worn one if one had been available. Seriously.

I have more hair than this guy
but otherwise, pretty similar

Anyway, after seeing the sights we settled in to watch some of the Heavy Games; specifically the two hammer throw events, where one dude - far from the biggest guy on the field - absolutely dominated. He was aided a bit by his cheering section: a woman with non-stop chatter who didn't actually praise her man so much as trash talk his opponents. The fact that the beer tent was just a few metres away might have had something to do with that. Can't say for sure.

I also couldn't keep my eyes off  a small circle adjacent to the grandstand containing three boulders weighing 80 pounds, 150 pounds and 200-plus pounds, along with a sign that implored me to "give it a go."

At this point my mind is racing with the possibilities, both good and bad. Showing off by lifting heavy things is a rite of passage between father and son, but on the other hand, I'm 54, out of shape and sporting a left knee that is both arthritic and meniscusly-challenged.


So avoiding embarrasment is also important.

With Jake and the whole crowd (maybe 40 people) looking on, I approached the first stone and set myself for maximum effort, only to hoist the rock with ease.

"Try the next one sir?" asked our friendly emcee. I wasn't going to, but I was on a roll here and damned if I didn't get this one - dubbed the Stone of Pain - onto my shoulder as well, though not without a great deal of huffing and puffing and wheezing and grunting.

My eyes were bulging out of the sockets and I knew my back would get payback in the morning, but I got it done.  Mission accomplished.

"Would you like to try the Great Stone of Durham sir? Just 200 or so pounds."

"Next year," I said. "I'll be wearing a kilt for that one."

                                                                *

I'll wrap this long-winded blog with a review of a Scottish beer, Innis & Gunn's Canadian Cherrywood Finish.

This one came on the recommendation of pal Don of Brew Ha Ha fame, who had tried several of Innis & Gunn's offerings and declared this one the best of the bunch, calling it "liquid dynamite."

I have to agree. This brew is matured over Canadian Black Cherrywood for 49 days (not 50) and then cold-conditioned while drizzling maple syrup into the concoction. At 7.4 per cent, it is - like all things Scottish and Canadian - not to be taken lightly.

It pours a dark bronze and I get all sweet malts on the nose - no hops to speak of - with hints of cherries and aromatic wood. Go figure. Really, really silky smooth on the tongue and a really outstanding beer.

Alba Gu Broth!

Getting lost (and found) in all the right places

For a guy whose part-time job is delivering stuff, I sure get lost a lot in strange places.

I know Oshawa like the back of my hand and I get around Toronto - which I haven't lived in for more than 20 years - with the greatest of ease. Put me in unfamiliar territory, and all bets are off.

Just ask my son Jake.

I got lost often on Florida's highways on our trip last spring and even took a few wrong turns walking, as my experience (culverts, quicksands and six-packs oh my) in an Orlando ditch will attest. But I think our mini-vacation in upstate New York (we got back today) takes the cake.

We crossed the border okay but once past Lewiston I got lost trying to get to the south shore of Lake Ontario on our way to Rochester. Several times, in fact, before we ended up in the middle of nowhere at a bar called Somewhere to ask for directions.

(Yes, I am a man and I have no problem asking for directions. The truth is I have a lot of experience at it.)

So we got directions from the bartender, while I enjoyed a Southern Tier IPA - bars in the middle of nowhere in the USA (at least the ones called Somewhere) have IPAs on tap, and they cost one dollar for a half-pint - and Jake was regaled with hockey stories from Tony, his new pal and the proud uncle of a lad soon to be drafted in the first round of the NHL. That's what he said, anyway.

So away we went from Somewhere with our directions, only to get lost at least twice more before finding the right road to Rochester. (We also got perilously close to running out of gas on the way but we don't really need to talk about that.)

Somewhere bar in Youngstown, N.Y.

Once settled in Rochester (I found the motel with no difficulty, I am proud to say) I told Jacob that I was going on a beer run to the Beers of the World outlet (the subject of a future blog), located south-east of us. Looked pretty straightforward on the map and I told the J Man I would be back in a half-hour or so.

It was a little farther than I expected, but I was there in about 20 minutes. Easy peasy.

It was on the way back that I ran into more troubles.

You have to understand that Rochester is littered with highways. There's the I-90, the 390, the 490, the 590, the Inner Loop, the Outer Loop plus some expressways and thruways that appear on maps but don't seem to actually exist.

I'd say Rochesterites can probably get around their city pretty quick with all those options. For visitors - especially visitors with a habit of getting lost - it's a recipe for disaster.

Lanes appear and disappear without warning and even after getting off the highway to try the city streets I had troubles. The city is not exactly designed on a grid system and, coupled with my sense of direction which had gone to hell an hour before, panic was setting in.

I had been gone quite a while and I knew my son would be getting worried.

I finally found a sketchy motel - I mean really, REALLY sketchy - and asked the clerk for directions to Lyell Avenue and my hotel. "It's just up the road about a quarter-mile," said the lady from her barbed-wire adamantium cage, giving me that "are you on drugs?" look.

"Uh, okay. Thank you," I stammered, relief in my voice.

(Lyell Avenue, by the way, got an entry in Rochester's Wikipedia listing:

Once an Italian-American neighbourhood, there have recently been efforts to improve the quality of life here. It is known largely for its crime, especially instances of prostitution and drug sales.

(For someone who lives two minutes away from Oshawa's crackhead and hooker headquarters, I felt (almost) right at home. But I digress.)

Anyway, I made it back to the motel, mindful of 12 year-old Jake's safety during my long absence, only to hear him say he didn't know I had left. Kids.

I had no roaming services so I had taken steps before we left to ensure the trip from Rochester to Niagara Falls, where we finished our vacation, went off without a hitch -  I took the low road all the way across the State. Lyell Avenue, also known as Highway 31, took me straight to the Falls.

Niagara Falls - the American side

No problems. I was happy. Jake was ecstatic.

But my woes continued on our walking trip to the American Falls that day. You'd think finding Niagara-Bloody-Falls would be a simple task. I thought so too, having seen it from the other side a dozen times or so, but we ended up circling the downtown core for half an hour before finally discovering the way, which involved entering a State Park and then a government building before reaching the promised land.

The next day, after crossing the border with my 24 delicious IPAs and a few - okay, a dozen - extras that we weren't going to tell the friendly Customs Officials about, we stopped on the Canadian side of the Falls to take some pictures.

And before we left I decided to take some downtown shots and parked my car in the duty free parking lot to do so.

Yeah, you know where this is going.

Upon leaving I discovered I had no choice but to go back to the American side (paying another toll in the process) before turning around and re-entering Canada once more.

The first time through I had no troubles. This time I got asked a lot of questions about my trip. Did I have a hotel receipt to prove I was gone the requisite 48 hours? (No.)

Did I have a receipt for the beer I purchased? (Yes.) Fortunately for me it was for the beer I bought in Niagara Falls. The Rochester purchase alone would have put me way over my limit. Though in my defence, I did drink many of those beers before I came back to Canada.

In the end, after I told the young lady - who was absolutely gorgeous, I should point out - about my love of IPAs and she had a good laugh about the nearly $10 price of one of them ("That's a Triple IPA," I told her), she let me back into Canada.

And once on familiar soil we made it home with getting lost once.

I think the only one who was not surprised at that was Jake. But then he's always had more faith in me than I ever did.

Thank God somebody does.

Cheers!

Cosplayers and Stan Lee - but no damn Moralite

I had marked Fan Expo down on my calendar months ago, but the closer I got to Toronto's biggest comics and pop culture event, the more I realized I was there for the beer.

Moralite, to be exact. That's Dieu du Ciel's glorious IPA collaboration with The Alchemist, the famed Vermont brewery that brought the world Heady Topper. And it was listed on the online menu at the Beer Bistro in downtown Toronto, just a short walk from Fan Expo's digs at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre.

So when I got to Union Station, that's where I went first, all giddy with excitement. Giddy like P Diddy after he discovers his net worth jumped 20 per cent while he was napping on the couch. That kind of giddy.


And then the bartender laid down the bad news: "We're out of that. Sorry sir."

Damn. I had tried this beer just once before, at C'est What after a spring comic con adventure with fellow Musketeers Cat and Don. An if memory serves, it was a half-pint that I had  to share, so I was eager to try it again.

She is portraying ...um...
I dunno and don't care

Oh well. The only IPA on the menu that I hadn't tried was Bellwood's Boogie Monster IIPA, but the price tag of nearly $20 was a little rich for my blood, so I had a 10 Bitter Years from Black Oak and headed to the convention centre.

I still enjoy comic conventions well enough, but once I picked up a few issues I needed and toured Artist's Alley for the comic art I love (a Lee Weeks Daredevil and a Mike Del Mundo Elektra went home with me), I was pretty much done.

Well, except for the people watching. I'd like to say once you've seen your first dozen or so cosplayers, you've seem them all, but it seems the participants outdid themselves this year. There was a ton of outstanding costumes, including a few that were all original. And most of the other cosplayers were representing characters I never heard of. Sure as hell weren't comic characters, that's for sure.

But when you look like this woman on the right, who cares?

There was one more item on my Fan Expo list I had to check off before I left: Stan Lee.

At 91, Stan Lee, creator or co-creator of nearly every Marvel character and a bigger draw than any of them (yes, even a bigger draw than Scarlett Johansson), is still the man. Nowadays, conventions are what he does and interacting with the fans is what he does best.

The Man

One doesn't go to a Stan Lee presentation to hear anything controversial or even new (though he did slip in a few teases about some upcoming Marvel movies - Black Panther AND Black Widow films green-lighted? Maybe...), but the fans in attendance - some 2,000 strong - ask the same questions year after year so they don't care.

It's Stan Lee, man.

Once I got my Stan Lee fix, I headed for the door but instead of turning into Union Station for the long GO Train ride back to Oshawa, I kept going east on Front Street in the direction of C'est What.

After all, if that's where Moralite was found last spring, it couldn't hurt to try again.

Alas, no Moralite. But I did have a Hop Addict from County Durham (meh) and a Smashbomb Atomic from Flying Monkeys (outstanding as usual) to help wash down a delicious chicken dinner.

Maybe next year Stan and I can go out bar-hopping after the convention. Maybe we run into Scarlett and that woman pictured above and we all drink Moralite from Dieu du Ciel together.

Maybe next year.

                                                                      *

I have a long list of new beers I haven't reviewed yet, mostly because I haven't written anything in a while. Here's a couple or three.

I saw Black Oak's Break of Dawn APA on the chalkboard at Buster Rhino's and I figured if it was from Black Oak, it must be good.

Break of Dawn from Black Oak:
An outstanding session beer

When I'm right, I'm right. This beer was outstanding.

Hopped up so much it tasted juicy, this beer had big grapefruit flavours along with some pine and citrus to give it a wonderful bitter finish. At just 4.5 per cent it is a fantastic session ale rivalling All Day IPA from Founders Brewing of Michigan for the best under-five per cent beer I've ever tried.

Unfortunately it was a summer release and now it's gone.

Something new from Rogue Ales showed up at my local LCBO recently, so I had to give it a go. OREgasmic Ale, a six per cent ale packing a powerful 90 IBU punch, was brewed to showcase Oregon's hops, malts and barley and uses nothing but in the recipe.

It pours a dark bronze with a creamy head and tastes thick and malty, with lots of caramel, some dark fruits, a touch of citrus and a hint of spice. Really tasty stuff.

Another newbie I found in the liquor store was Hop Bot IPA from Hop City. At seven per cent and 70 IBUs (along with five west coast hops used in the brewing), this beer came with some lofty expectations.

Alas, I didn't get the insane amounts of citrus as advertised, Very little, actually, though there was lots of pine and decent bitterness. It poured dark (and a little evil looking) and I picked up more tropical fruit than citrus, along with prominent sweet malts. I liked it, but it wasn't really a west coast IPA.

Cheers!

Underdog's All or Nothing shows off on beer festival circuit

It was a long time coming in giving the Underdog its day.

Musketeer Don had tipped me off about Underdog Brewhouse in Oshawa months ago, and I soon paid a visit to their offices in an industrial park in the Motor City’s southwest corner. That’s when I met Jeff Doman, one-half of the brother team-up determined to bring the Better Beer Revolution to Oshawa.

The offices were beer-free, unfortunately, as the beer is brewed under contract at Railway City Brewery in St. Thomas. Something about a severe lack of tank space in Ontario, Jeff said. He also told me that he and his brother Eric were going to concentrate on just one style for the foreseeable future – the All or Nothing Hopfenweisse – and they were scouting out locations for their own brewery, with downtown Oshawa and 2015 as the target location and desired date.

Now it was just a question of finding the damn beer.

But, like with most good things, I had to wait and there were a few misses along the way before I got my hands on one of their beers, piquing my desire to drink it even more.

The first miss was on Underdog’s part, as the boys weren’t quite ready to bottle when Oshawa’s own Durham Craft Beer Festival came to town July 12. The next two misses were on me, as Underdog's hit the festival tour immediately after, debuting their beer at the Burlington Beer Festival and following that up with an appearance at the mammoth Toronto Festival of Beer on the last weekend of July.

Sadly I was not to able to attend either of those two events, being otherwise engaged with more mundane tasks like work. But my pal Don - damn his oily hide – was at both festivals and he brought Musketeer Cat to the Burlington party as well.

And I quickly got the word on Oshawa’s newest beer. “Outstanding,” Don said, followed by “a dynamite beer that Cat and I went back for twice” (“three times,” Cat later corrected him), and, “count the pair of us as fans.”

(The following weekend in Toronto Don made Underdog his first stop, where he was greeted by name by Eric Doman. “They remembered,” said Don, with a slight catch in his throat.)

In the meantime, I learned that Underdog’s had sold their first keg to an upscale pub in Brooklin called 1847 Wine and Beer Bistro. So I headed there the Saturday Don and Cat were in Burlington, hoping to beat them to the punch.

Which brings me to the third miss, that which I blame on the Bistro. They hadn’t tapped the keg yet. “We’re waiting for a line to come open,” said the bartender, seeing the look of disappointment on my face.

So I had to wait. Later that week I called the pub. “Not yet,” I was told. The following week I tried again. Same answer.

Every dog has its day. Especially an Underdog

Finally, on August 9 I heard through Underdog’s Facebook site that the beer was flowing in Brooklin, so off I went once again. With Jake staying in the car (hey – I offered to buy him ice cream!), I ordered a half pint of  All or Nothing from the same bartender, who remembered me and noted they opened the keg the week before and were already on their second round. “It’s been pretty popular,” he said.

Now if you’re reading this you know I love India Pale Ales – the ‘IPA Tales’ at the top of the blog should have given that away – but I’ve been developing a soft spot for wheat beers this summer. None of them wowed me, but many were good.

All or Nothing, however, made me sit up and take notice. The beer smells of spices and bubblegum – especially the spices. Coriander I think, which is interesting because I’m one of the few people who hate coriander (also known as cilantro) in cooking. It poured a hazy amber and I could pick up a touch of citrus bitterness on the finish.

A very nice brew and an excellent wheat beer.

All those spices made it seem very much like a Belgian Wit instead of the German Weisse that it is, and the American hops added to give it a bit of a kick (25 IBUs) really balance out this beer.

All or Nothing is really a Belgian, wearing German clothes and speaking with an American accent. And made right here in Ontario.

Count me as a fan as well.

*

My first visit to 1847 Wine and Beer Bistro was not totally in vain, as I sampled a beer from another newcomer to the Durham Region beer scene, Old Flame Brewery of Port Perry. Their Blonde (a Helles style traditional Munich lager) was crisp on the palate and quite smooth with a hint of some spices.

No kick to speak of, but still, a nice summer beer.

And speaking of wheat beers, I gave Side Launch a go last week. This Bavarian-style wheat from newcomer Side Launch Brewing was tangy with spices (cloves) that were muted at first before coming on strong at the finish. A strong banana taste as well.

Rate Beer scores it 98 (with a perfect 100 for style) and I’m not going to disagree much. A really good patio beer.

Rich, dark and complex - and tasty

Another new beer I tried recently is one that Don had raved incessantly about: Wellington Brewery’s Imperial Russian Stout. I am not a stout lover – not yet, anyway – but this beer may have me going over to the dark side.

I asked Don, who loves him some stout, if he could guarantee I would love this beer. His response? “I ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY GUARANTEE IT (Disclaimer: This is not a guarantee). So I guess I was on my own.

It was dark and scary looking with a thick creamy and mysterious-looking head, and I got the usual coffee and chocolate on the nose, as well as something else. Dark fruits, maybe plum, as well as some nuttiness and toasted malts on the tongue.

A real nice bitter finish as well. I may be a convert.

Cheers!

Blondes, Fat Tugs, girl pants and a pot-bellied pig in a park

“But it’s a blonde,” I protest to the heavily-tatted and extremely adorable off-duty waitress at Buster Rhino’s.

“But it’s nine per cent and it’s really good,” she replied. “Try it.”

So I did. After all, it was a holiday Monday and I had just one bomber in the fridge at home.  A trip down to the local was definitely in order. “I’ll have the Princess Wears Girl Pants please,” I said to the waitress actually working, who was, in fact, a blonde. “The brunette here recommends it.”

I had heard about this Sawdust City Brewery offering before, most recently when it made the final ten for Most Creative Name at the recent U.S. Open Beer Championships. That’s an honour its Sawdust City stable mate, Long Dark Voyage to Uranus Imperial Stout, enjoyed the previous year, so it’s clear the Sawdust boys have a talent for imaginative names for their beers.

There is plenty of creativity inside the keg as well. My hesitation is trying it sprung from the ‘blonde ale’ descriptive written on the chalkboard but it sure didn’t taste like any blonde I’ve ever had. It poured a hazy yellow and tasted of dark fruits, a little citrus and some spice, with something I couldn’t nail down. Cream soda? Maybe.

Then, on the aftertaste, BAM! The boozy backbone (it’s actually 8.5 per cent) kicks in.

To add to the confusion, Rate Beer calls it an Imperial IPA, while the commercial description bills it as a Belgian IPA. Which probably explains why the beer scored an 88, yet just 45 for style.

In any case, I scored it higher. A really adventurous beer.

I followed that up with another Sawdust City beer, their delicious signature Lone Pine IPA, before heading home to crack open my last bottle, a special B.C beer I’ve been saving since I lucked into it at my parent's house in Toronto the day before: the legendary Fat Tug, from Driftwood Brewery in Victoria. A 99 on Rate Beer and 100 in my heart.

I was shocked to see it, sitting there all comfortable-like on my folk’s bed. The happy kind of shock, not the stick-your-finger-in-the-wall-socket or Spider-Man meets Electro for the first time kind of shock. My brother had bought me some B.C beer on a recent business trip out west (Bodacious Beer Blog) and Fat Tug was the clear winner of the bunch, in my mind.

Did brother Brian go back to B.C? I didn’t think so. “You’ve been holding out on me,” I complained. “Who says they were all for you?” was his response. Huh.  “You guys couldn’t handle all those hops anyway,” said I, the ever ungrateful brother. Indeed, the beer went home with me.

It was just rewards for my efforts that day.  My mom loves her garden but at 81 and with chronic arthritis she doesn’t get out to tend to it much and I spent the day clear-cutting two and-a-half of the half dozen or so jungles found on the property.

Lions and Tigers and Bear Oh My kinda jungle? Not quite, but you could have hidden a mating pair of each species in this bush, which I attacked by wielding a gas-powered trimmer like it was a battlefield broadsword.

Hard work but satisfying toil too. I think I earned that Fat Tug, as well as that confused yet adventurous blonde, The Princess Wears Girl Pants.

On this holiday Monday, they made quite the adorable couple.

*

It’s not every day I see a pig in a park, never mind a 200-pound pot-bellied porker I spotted on Oshawa’s south side.

The park is actually a strip of grass sandwiched between a townhouse complex and a GM parking lot and the pig looked like a regular barnyard fellow, albeit one with cartoonishly high shoulders. So I leaned over the fence and struck up a conversation with the pig’s owner.

“That’s a pig,” I say, as a way of pointing out how quickly I had grasped the situation. “She’s a Pot-Bellied pig,” the women replied, adding (after she saw my cartoonishly raised eyebrows) “they told me she would weigh 60 to 80 pounds. She’s, like, 200.”

What are you looking at? You never seen a pig i n a park?

“And you live there?” I say, nodding to the townhouses behind me.  “Yes,” she replied, “but the sad part is she can’t climb stairs so she’s stuck on the main floor. So we come here a lot.”

For the record, the pig looked quite content munching on the grass, a supplement to her usual diet of fruits and vegetables and pig chow.

Not cartoonishly content (her shoulders notwithstanding), but happy as a pig in a park. At least.