Kingston, ON:

BeerFam2020

I remember a time from days of yore when men and women of honour and grace would congregate in large numbers to celebrate kinship, fellowship and love.

Stong libations would be consumed and the throng of revelers would travel from tavern to tavern and sometimes, on special occasions, would hire special chariots to take them to the places where these libations were conceived and to meet the wizards creating these magical ales and lagers.

Those times are part of history now, but it is the wish of ale lovers everywhere that history can one day repeat itself.

This, then, is a tale of one such occasion from long ago. February 22 to be exact ...

When it comes to spending time with my beer invasion buddies I will make almost any sacrifice to make it happen.

Not like my own kids or anything - I consider them pretty special; even sacred - but the rent money, the neighbour's kids, my self-esteem; all that's on the table.

But there comes a time when you have to admit defeat, and I was almost at that point in my efforts to get away for KingstonBeerFam2020, a highly anticipated event on my social calendar for a lot of reasons, most notably because a ton of my friends would be there.

There would be a bus to take us to all the beery fun our first capital city had to offer, lunch and dinner would be provided and Josh Hayter, fast becoming one of Kingston's favourite sons, would be there, so it was guaranteed to be, as us old people like to say, 'lit!'

Super lit, even.

The whole gang at Daft Brewing. Photo courtesy of Ryan - the head
brewer - with camera supplied by Candice

But there were obstacles in my path and once one obstacle was cleared another would rise up to meet me.

The first stumbling block was my health, as my knee surgery was six weeks prior to the event. But I had finally started to take my physio seriously so I was confident the walking and the standing and the sitting wouldn't be a concern. But the second obstacle - money - was proving to be somewhat more troublesome.

I had to extend my rent payments (and had to borrow off my Dad to do so) because my impending move was delayed and my first EI cheque had only just arrived, so the trip was looking dicey.

Also: no credit card.

I had a plan, though, and it involved me driving to Kingston to meet the party bus and my friends midway through the day and driving home to Oshawa the same night. It wouldn't be perfect but at least I would be able to see my pals and visit a few breweries.

And then my Oshawa peeps came through for me.

Jeff messaged me after he read about my scheme. "I don't know what your plan is, but Candice said you're coming to Kingston, so I'm here to tell you that you're coming to Kingston. Cal is renting the room so don't worry. We'll fit you in."

I still had questions but damn the torpedos, full speed ahead and all that, and on Saturday morning Jeff, Candice, Jamie and myself squeezed into Cal's truck and we headed to Kingston, arriving in plenty of time to check into the Delta, toss our stuff in our rooms (no couch to be found - this could be interesting) and hop on the bus.

Lots of familiar faces for me and a few new ones as well. There would have been a bigger turnout, our host informed me, but the rail blockade that was front and centre in the news at the time had prevented those who were coming in by train from attending.

One day I'll get Jordan St. John to autograph the book he sent me. One day.

Jeff and Josh enjoying a beer at Stone City. If you
look closely you will see I captured a
unicorn: Josh actually smiling

In addition to the five-person Oshawa contingent, there was my Oakville Beer Bros Don and Greg; Graeme (King City); Curtis and Nichole (Guelph); Matt (Ottawa); Waller Street Brewing's April and Chuck (also Ottawa); Paul (Newmarket); David (Hamilton-ish); our hosts Josh (President) and Amanda (Marketing Manager) from Spearhead Brewing; and Stephanie and Miranda, who Josh shanghaied from the Delta Hotel.

And John, the Bus Driver Extraordinaire.

The first stop was Daft Brewing, one of the new kids on Kingston's brewing block. Like, they've been open three weeks kinda new. These guys have re-purposed an old 5-bay garage and turned it into an open-concept space with a huge horseshoe-shaped bar at one end and the brewery at the other, with some cool artwork on the far wall.

They like to experiment at Daft, and I enjoyed a Spruce Sour, an Oat Dirty Bastard and a True Level Gose while Ryan, the Head Brewer, took us through a little of the brewery's long and storied history from his perch in the rafters. His vantage point made for a great picture too, as you see can from the above image.

Next up was Stone City Ales, and if Daft is a newbie, Stone City is a veteran of the local scene, with a history of producing brews like 12 Star Session Ale and Windward Belgian Wheat since they opened shop downtown in 2014.

(In fact, Stone City was at the first Durham Craft Beer Festival in '14, where my pal Steve, who drank macro if he was drinking beer at all, fell in love with the Windward Wheat. But I digress.)

The English pub decor at Kingston Brewing

Head Brewer Richard was on hand to greet our unruly crew and we got to sample a wide range of beers this day. There was Counterpoint Farmhouse Ale, Brood & Bloom Sour (Blackberry & Raspberry), Unchartered IPA and Nocturnal Dark Czech Pilsner.

And some Distant Origin dry-hopped IPA to go as well.

And then we were back on the bus, with our next stop just down the street and around the corner: Kingston Brewing.

This is billed as Ontario's oldest brewpub (1986) and it's set in a building that at least a century older than that so there's a lot of history in this place. The walls are adorned with memorabilia, giving it that old English pub feel, and the whole place just oozes charm.

Our gang was shepherded upstairs - because we're special -  and we were offered flights of their finest ales, including Dragon's Breath English Pale Ale and their double dry-hopped IPA. A few thirsty travellers opted for beers from their extensive guest tap list as well.

The beer was excellent and co-owner and Brewmaster Braden beguiled us with tantalizing tales of brewing lore, but the highlight of the visit came after Braden ordered the smokers downstairs fired up and subsequently brought us lunch.

And not just any lunch, but brisket, and fall-off-the-bone ribs, and macaroni 'n cheese to die for and I feared (briefly) that one of us actually did. I had two plates of food but before I could feel shame I saw that most of our party did as well. Paul was on his third when I noticed the tell-tale sign of a meat coma on his face and was about to intervene when he reminded me that he was a professional and I needn't concern myself.

Still, some of us had to be rolled out of there and down the stairs (ouch!) and back into the bus because we still had more drinking to do, with Riverhead Brewery next on the agenda.

Head Brewer Aaron gave us the brewery tour (and a fine glass of Tropical IPA) and it was a good thing we were segregated from the rest of the crowd because the big room was a dangerous place that day. Seemed a hockey tournament was in town and that meant a mini-stick competition was in full swing and if you know anything about nine year-olds playing mini-sticks, you know 'full swing' is to be taken literally.

Safely in the brewhouse, we got a lesson in brewing from Aaron (Graeme, one of our homebrewers, was right in his wheelhouse here) while I absently played with some ancient-looking bottle opener that was apparently worth $75.

I didn't try to steal it, Aaron. I swear.

Skeleton Park Brewery was our penultimate stop on the tour, and like everything else in Kingston, it has a bit of history attached to it.

Named for a nearby park that began its life as a burial ground for immigrant labourers, the brewery is owned by a man whose family has been brewing - or bootlegging - for three generations, and it was Trevor who gave us the speech on Kingston's brewing traditions and gave us the run-down on the beers on tap.

I went for their Best Bitter - I bought some to go as well - because it's a style we don't see very often and I love me some Bitters and ESBs.

With Skeleton Park complete, that only left one brewery on the itinerary. There might be some debate to say we left the best for last, but there is no argument that Spearhead Brewing, home of Josh, our host with the most, is the biggest.

It's not close, actually. Spearhead is huuuge and sports $5 million in custom-made brewing equipment that produced close to a million litres of beer last year.

Not all of that beer is Spearhead brew, which means the brewery, which started life in 2011 as a contract brewer, has come full circle and is now producing beer for others.

Josh had put on a buffet feed for us when we arrived but most of us were still stuffed from lunch so we ignored it. We were more eager to get a beer in our hands - Hawaiian Pale Ale for me - and a tour of this shiny new brewery.

"Who likes our shiny new tanks," asked Jacob on the Spearhead tour.
"I need a show of hands."

That's when Jacob stepped in and introduced himself. The Head Brewer at Spearhead, Jacob has a lot more experience than his late 20s-something eyes would have you believe, and he comes by it honestly. His dad, Tomas, spent three decades as a Brewmaster for Labatt before coming out of retirement to take the same fancy title for Spearhead.

There are whispers that Jacob does most of the work, Jacob whispered as he gave us a tour of the facility (which actually has room for future expansion), but whatever the arrangement, it seems to be working as the place is operating near 90 per cent efficiency.

Not a hundred per cent sure what that means, but it sounded impressive.

With the tour complete, all that was left was spend an hour or two enjoying each other's company, making sure John's tip jar was full and watching some cool Kingston cats - dressed to impress - invade the place for a blues show inside the brewhouse. Chicago Blues Hall of Famers Maurice John Vaughan and John Watkins (and friends) were in the house, and all was right this night with Spearhead Brewing.

Probably time to take us back to the hotel, someone told John, and that's when I spotted the buffet.

"There's food? Hang on a sec, John. All of a sudden I'm hungry."

***

You'd think after all that beer consumption we'd be in a hurry for our beds but there was the matter of the after-party. Because there's always an after-party, and this night it was in April & Chuck's room, which was a good thing because they brought lots of Waller Street Brewing swag. And by swag I mean beer. And by beer I mean their award-winning (award presented by me) Black IIPA.

Is there a finer Doorman than this man?

But first I had to sort out my sleeping arrangements, because at that point I had a pot to piss in but I didn't have a bed to sleep in. "There seems to be a misunderstanding," I said hopefully to the desk clerk at the Delta. "Do you have a cot or something for me?"

The answer was no, but the helpful clerk did offer to deliver two sets of extra bedding to our room, which sounded promising but proved to under-deliver on that promise. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

The party in April's room was in full swing when the Oshawa crew arrived and I made sure to snag a few bottles of the Black IIPA to go before settling in to watch the end of what turned out to be a historic hockey game.

This was the game both Carolina Hurrican goalies were hurt and the team had to use the Leaf's emergency back-up, a 42 year-old part-time Zamboni driver named David Ayres who rightly earned his moment in the sun - he dominated social media and even did the talk show circuit for at least a week - by beating (not to mention embarrassing) his employers in a 6-3 Carolina win.

By then the party was starting to fizzle out and after suffering our first casualty - Jamie had to be dragged from his resting spot at the end of April's bed to his own room across the hall - we called it a night.

The hotel manager was getting a little nervous anyway, though someone down the hall magically produced a puppy and everything was peachy again at the Delta.

It was a perfect day in Kingston in fact, with six breweries showcasing their hospitality to the world, or at least to a busload of freeloaders beer lovers who more than appreciated their efforts.

Shout-out to Josh and Amanda at Spearhead for organizing this event, the Delta for putting us up and putting up with us, Tourism Kingston and Kingston Economic Development for sponsoring lunch and dinner, to John and McCoy Bus Service for shuttling us around in style and to everyone else involved who made KingstonBeerFam 2020 an unforgettable day.

Thank you.

This tale was from a month ago but seems much longer, what with everything that has happened in the interim. A busload of people going from brewery to brewery these days would be dangerous and downright criminal as we fight to prevent the spread of Covid-19, which has already killed more than a thousand people worldwide and affected hundreds of thousands more.

The actions we take today - self-isolation, social distancing - are necessary to flatten the curve and save lives but they are devastating our economy and putting the future of many small businesses at risk. Breweries are no different and all six we visited in Kingston last month could find themselves out of business if this pandemic goes on much longer. So please continue to spend money at local businesses or your favourite brewery if you can. Most breweries deliver so you don't even have to leave your homes to get delicious, Ontario-made beer sent right to your door.

Stay safe, stay home, wash your hands and we will get through this together.

Peace.

Covid-19, Border Collies and Badlands 

Writing is difficult at the best of times, though I can't recall any best of times recently.

There have been moments, of course, but I was always too busy enjoying those fleeting bursts of wonder to write about them, and when it came time to do what I've done for more than half my life, things got ... in the way.

The past year has been particularly tough, what with a financial crisis, bouts of depression and, most recently, my knee replacement. Still, I've managed to write two blogs in 2020, both chronicling my surgery and my impending move from Oshawa to horse country in King City, where the fresh air and a re-connection to nature were supposed to re-discover the spark that has been missing in my life.

Things are never so simple for me, of course, and I'm now ensconced in my parent's basement in north Toronto while waiting for the property to become available. End of next week is the latest deadline, though my brother is doing the negotiating and while I love him dearly, his word hasn't always been his bond.

So I wait in my childhood home, helping Dad get the basement cleaned out (except for my stuff) and prepped for the day when he sells the house and brings Mom to join us on the King City property.

That's the plan, anyway, but as we're not actually on the farm as I write this, the whole deal could still go south and that would truly suck for all of us.

I'm on EI as I rehab from the surgery so I have plenty of time on my hands, so I made an attempt to write about my Kingston BeerFam weekend and even got a few paragraphs in, but I found it hard to write about a glorious time with friends when Covid-19 officially became a pandemic and swept the globe, canceling almost everything in its wake and sending panicked citizens into local stores to stockpile toilet paper, of all things.

The Coronavirus, or Covid-19

From television newscasts to social media, the impact the virus now has on the global community is immeasurable, and we are told daily about school and business closures; reminded about the importance of hand-washing and taught new phrases, such as self-isolation and social distancing.

Not to mention the importance of being kind. I could stand to hear more about that.

So I worry.

At 60, I suppose I am considered somewhat vulnerable, but I ate enough dirt as a child to build up a pretty good immune system, so I don't worry about myself at all, really. But my parents - both 87 - are a different story. Dad is still strong and as he takes all the necessary precautions I am not terribly concerned about him. But Mom, who suffers from Alzheimer's, is rather frail and most definitely immunocompromised and I'd be lying if I didn't worry about her catching the virus.

So I do all the right things and we basically self-isolate and watch wall-to-wall Covid-19 coverage until we are desperate for something less depressing. Dad turns to BBC documentaries and murder mysteries and I go downstairs to my laptop and see social media posts about hoarding toilet paper before turning to Netflix for salvation.

Any escape is short-lived as my attention span is down to about 15 minutes so when I woke up Saturday morning I decided I needed to get the hell out of the house. Maybe go for a drive; maybe take a spin up to King City and see this mysterious property myself.

Hitting up a new brewery could be in the cards as well, and when I found Badlands Brewery on the map, I knew I struck gold. I had been hearing great things about Badlands - which is open just five hours a week, adding to the mystique - but the best part was this farm brewery in Caledon was off King Road, the very road (albeit 40 minutes to the east) that takes me to the King City estate.

The Badlands bottle shop

It was an easy 35-minute drive from home up the 410 and at 11:45 - fifteen minutes before opening - I found myself joining a line of cars parked on the side of Chinguacousy Road. It was one of those blustery days A.A. Milne used to write about and I was among the first handful of people in line for the bottle shop, which is just a shed that has only a few cows for company the other six days of the week.

And Nelly too. The resident farm dog, Nelly is a Border Collie who quickly adopted me as we waited for the noon opening bell, coming in for a quick scritch before returning with a ball and daring me to take it from her.

Now I am not inexperienced at this game and I know all the tricks; from lifting the dog off her front legs to the gentle but firm neck twist method. But I was losing this battle and after more than five minutes of struggle I admitted defeat and Nelly ran off with her prize to see if anyone else was worthy.

My fellow linemates had some fun with the battle and that's when I found out the people lined up on this windy Saturday were here every weekend like it was a secret club. Most people seemed to know each other and greeted each new addition to the line - it had stretched to more than two dozen by the time noon rolled around - like old friends.

Two minutes later my old friend Nelly returned, having failed to find a worthy opponent, ready for round two.

So the battle resumed, only this time I managed to wrestle the ball away from her after a short struggle. I know she let me win.

Delicious Badlands beer

Ten minutes later I was up at the window ordering two of everything, including a couple of Provocative IPAs, a beer that was leftover from the previous weekend, and that's what I ordered when I entered the tap room, which is an old bus parked on the grass in front of one of the barns.

Damn! That beer was dynamite! So good I ordered a second 12-oz cup, which was about the same time the bus started filling up, making the social distance thing I was attempting difficult to pull off. So I finished my beer - so good - and headed back to my car, confident in the notion (provided the virus doesn't shut down EVERYTHING next week) that I would be back.

Maybe I'll even join the secret club.

Forty minutes later I was seeing the King City farm for the first time; which wasn't a farm at all but a group of houses and a fancy-pants stables - all surrounded by an enclave of multi-million dollar estate homes. There were still For Sale signs around the property - which was not as surprising as you'd think - and a No Trespassing sign at the entrance, which was partially blocked by a half-open gate.

I ignored the sign and drove through the grounds, taking a close look at the house I am supposed to live in and even stopping to peek through the window at the stables. The property was deserted. No cars. No people. I have no idea what that means, though I heard from Dad when I returned home there are still some legal obstacles before my brother can take occupancy.

That is nothing new and if you know my brother, not a shocker either.

Fingers crossed, I guess.

***

I was out on a shopping expedition yesterday - toilet paper and kleenex were on the list - and I was curious to see what it was like in the stores. The last time I went out shopping was before people went bat-shit crazy and I found the customers civil, if a bit nervous about being in close proximity to other humans.

I struck out at Blue Sky (except for some shrimp), found kleenex at No Frills and was in the line at Dollarama - no toilet paper to be found - when a woman came into the store, bypassing the line and going straight to one of the check-out girls.

She was very obviously suffering from an intellectual disability and appeared to be asking for surgical masks and got agitated when she was told there were none and was asked to leave. The young lady at the till then called for the next customer - which was me - and then waved her arms helplessly when the woman screamed that she needed masks.

The other staffer told her there would be more tomorrow, which only prompted the woman to scream again.

So I very gently told her the masks would be in tomorrow.

She quieted down and looked at me for the first time.

"They'll be in tomorrow," I said softly.

She nodded at me and left the store and we all went back to our business.

Whatever you do out there, be kind. Always be kind

Peace.

Is 2020 over yet? (Part 2)

Unless you are homeless or have a price on your head it isn't likely you'd want to stay in hospital any longer than you had to, but man, I wasn't ready to go.

My knee replacement surgery was shortly after two on a Friday afternoon and 24 hours later I'm calling my son to pick me up, but like I said, I wasn't ready. It was all a bit disorientating for one thing, and there's also something about having a bell beside your bed in case you needed your pillow fluffed or something.

I never used it of course, but it was there, just in case.

We only practiced stairs once and it didn't go well, so I was nervous about my eight banister-free steps down to my basement apartment, but otherwise I didn't have any excuses about going home.

Rehab, I guess, but I was full of bravado on how that would be a breeze, a decree I called Mistake #1.

It was a mostly uneventful hospital stay unless you count a brief vomiting spell in the morning when my body decided to reject most of the drugs they had pumped into me, but there was one incident worth mentioning, though it involves a torture medical procedure that has struck terror in the hearts (and orifices) of men everywhere for millennia, and my rather graphic description of that procedure.

Staples. Lots of staples. Better this
image than one of a catheter

It was several hours after waking up in the room I shared with my knee surgery amigo Mike when our night shift nurse (I think her name was Charise) came in and asked if I had peed.

"No," I said. "Is that a problem?"

"If you don't pee," she replied, "we'll have to use a catheter."

"Whoa, whoa, watch your language," I nearly shouted, alarmed that this seemingly nice young woman would use such profanity. "That's a horrible swear word," I said. "We don't need to go there."

"Then go pee," was all she said before walking away.

So I tried to empty my bladder, with no success, and when Charise returned shortly after I pleaded for more time.

"You have half an hour," she said before fluffing Mike's pillow to show me what she thought of my stalling tactics.

So I tried again to pee and got nothing. The odd thing was my bladder didn't feel full at all but Charise insisted it was full to bursting and right on schedule she walked back into our room with a gadget not that much different than the one created by Ben Franklin in 1752 and just as painful (I imagined) as devices used by the ancient ones to extract information from the enemy.

When she inserted said device into what I always considered strictly an exit hole, I admit I screamed just a little, and when she pushed it in farther I gasped but held my tongue as bravely as I could. I dunno if Mike was horrified for my sake or quietly giggling at my misfortune but in about a minute it was all over.

I felt drained. Quite literally.

That afternoon I was kicked out of my semi-comfortable hospital bed and sent home to begin my recovery and after a first night that had me getting up to pee every two hours I settled into a routine over the next few weeks of going to physio twice a week to be abused by Saloni (who was sweet, professional and cruel, all in one package) and moaning about my sad state of affairs.

But if I was complaining, it was mostly about being bored and that situation changed in a hurry a little over a week after coming home.

That's when I was robbed. While I slept.

Yeah, I know. Fuck my life, huh?

A thief broke into my apartment and stole my laptop, my wallet - containing my ID and about $60 - and my meds, which I suspected was the goal all along.

I tried to not be obsessed with this, but the fact I was likely targeted because of my situation hurt, as was the evidence (or lack thereof) from the security cameras that suggested an inside job.

I got little sympathy from my landlady and probably less from our local police, who made it pretty clear I wasn't a high priority, even after I made a veiled threat about having a few friends with different ideas on how to handle the investigation.

They thanked me for my feedback and as I would never have followed through on my big talk I was able to put the incident in my rearview mirror and move on.

But it was the start of a rough two-week patch for me as I had other challenges to face, and the physio became my priority, especially as Saloni started getting concerned my recovery wasn't coming as fast as she (and I) wanted.

Specifically, the bend in my knee, which was not even close to the desired number, even after she reefed on my leg hard enough to cause me to (once again) scream, which, in turn, caused me to question my long-held belief that my pain tolerance level was pretty good.

I called that Mistake #2.

My ability to straighten my leg was also an issue, as the target number was -5 and three weeks after the operation I was getting no better than -12. If I didn't reach my goal I would likely have a permanent limp, I was warned.

The planned move to Caledon was also stressing me out, as Brian was having difficulty finalizing the deal ("damn lawyers," he would always say) and only updating me when he had news to share. Which wasn't often.

I had to get my information from my Dad, which was where I learned there was a second property - also in Caledon - in the mix. Neither deal was showing any sign of getting done, and a move that was supposed to happen in November was still stalled three months later.

"There's always King City," Pops pointed out.

Turned out there was a third option (first I heard of it), and this deal apparently had legs. But I had, of course, heard that before.

The Kingston trip was looking doubtful too, as I hadn't received any EI money and had to borrow to extend my stay at my apartment because of all the delays. It wouldn't be right to spend that money on beer, right?

Some good news, or at least a fresh perspective was needed and the breakthrough came in mid-February.

I was already driving (several weeks ahead of schedule), so I didn't have to lean on friends and family so much - shout-out to Candice, Paula, Cam, Kass, Marie, Brandon, Josh, Steve, Cal, Adam and Christian-Ann for their driving skills and/or support - and when my first EI cheque arrived things started to come together.

The King City property became reality soon after when the contract was signed (closing date: February 28), and that bit of good news inspired me to get off my ass and turn my half-packed apartment into something closer to move-ready.

Kingston

The beer trip was not a lot closer to reality but I did have a plan, so there was at least hope.

Most importantly, I started seeing improvements in my rehab, no doubt helped by me spending more time doing my exercises at home. My bend rate topped the magic '100' mark and when Saloni dumped two truck tires and an anvil on my knee and then jumped on it, we achieved success in straightening my leg as well, sailing all the way to -4.

(Shout-out to some of the other staffers, such as David, Amanda, Sarah and Will, and to my fellow old farts patients for their encouragement.)

The beer was even starting to taste pretty good. I might just get through this ordeal after all.

With the moving truck booked and a few pals enlisted to help, that only left Kingston. My friends would be there and a few big hitters in the beer world might also be attending so I very much wanted this to happen.

And I had a plan ...

Is 2020 over yet? (Part 1)

The images we were seeing from Australia were both horrifying and heart-breaking. Uncontrolled wildfires were raging across most of the country and firefighters - many volunteering from Canada and elsewhere around the globe - were desperately trying to stem the blood orange tide.

It was like a world on fire.

The devastation to the countryside was terrible but it was what was happening to Australia's unique creatures that was most impacting me. An estimated half a billion animals have been killed in the fires and the iconic Koala's place in Australia's natural order is in jeopardy, with some calling the nation's symbol 'functionally extinct.'

I've been to Australia. I have family living in Australia. I have held a Koala in my arms. These news flashes from the other side of the world were hurting my heart and commanding a lot of my attention as 2019 turned into 2020.

A world on fire.

Considering Trump was trying to start World War 3 and I was facing a series of major crisis in my personal life, commanding my attention was no mean feat, but there we were.

I was barely a week away from major surgery and a week away from leaving my job of the last dozen years, so naturally that, and everything that goes with those life changing events, were front and centre. But I was also contemplating a new adventure, as my big brother Brian was dangling an offer to live and work - rent-free - at a horse farm he and his partner were in negotiations to buy in the Caledon hills.

Australia

The surgery - a full (left) knee replacement - was mere days away, but it wasn't top of mind. No doubt I was burying that for my own mental health, but it was business as usual for me leading up to the date. My work pals sure wanted to talk about it - how they were going to survive without me will be one of life's mysteries I'm guessing - but I took on a 'whatever' attitude and worked right up to the morning of my surgery.

Meanwhile, I obsessed over the pictures of the estate that I was supposed to be working at, putting a serious dent in my data plan in the process. A hundred and sixty beautifully landscaped acres with an 11-bedroom mansion, trout pond, tennis courts and other amenities will do that to a guy, especially when the rent is free (that fact is worth repeating) and the job is 'managerial' in nature.

There was also an upcoming beer trip to Kingston on my mind, with the date falling exactly six weeks after the operation. This six-brewery invasion, complete with party bus and lunch and dinner provided, is being organized by Josh Hayter, Kingston's new favourite citizen, the president of Spearhead Brewing (and a super awesome dude) and I really, really did not want to miss it.

I probably will take a pass, though I expect cash flow will be the culprit, not my health. Never saying never, though, and I was going to see if I could make it work.

So, yeah, a lot on my mind as the new year began, and yet I was still brought back to Australia and those bush fires, especially with stories coming back from Down Under of residents in the potential path of these terrifyingly unpredictable fires who had to water their houses daily to prevent sparks - carried by winds from infernos many miles away -  turning their homes into ash before the flames even reached them. More stories about the animals too, with graphic and tragic images that I couldn't shake from my brain.

I needed a break. I needed a diversion.

Thankfully, I got one. Or three, actually.

I had been hibernating a bit since Christmas but when Jeff messaged me and said we were celebrating Sarah's 30th birthday tonight and to get my ass to Town Brewery I said hell yes, I'll be there.

Sarah being the former manager of both Buster Rhino's and Top Corner, the six-time Best Laugh in Craft Beer winner (unanimous each time), one of my mentors in this beer thing, a full-time nursing student and a personal hero to boot. So a no-brainer.

I figured it would be top-heavy with Top Corner people, but besides Jeff and myself there was just our pal Adam to represent our local. Most of the rest of the table came from Sarah's hockey team, which was made of up everyday heroes, with EMT folks, firefighters and other nursing students.

So while Sarah's friends regaled us with stories of heroism post-game misadventures, I nursed a Fruit Dart (a Sour with lemon & vanilla - tasty!) and a Chase the Stars APA and relaxed for the first time in weeks.

And when the birthday party moved on to the next phase of the evening - roller skating or sky diving or line dancing; I can't remember - I said my goodbyes and headed home with my heart just a little bit happier.

The next day I got a call after work from Candice, telling me she and Marie were hosting a beer share/dinner party and Paul (The Big Peezy) was going to be there. Will I be attending?

Yes, Candice, I will be there.

I managed to find a few beauties in the fridge so as not to go empty-handed, and armed with the knowledge that Paul (who buys beer far faster than any human can drink them) would be bringing a bunch of top shelf brews, took the short drive down Ritson Road to the soiree.

Spending time with good friends is priceless, especially if they provide an awesome charcuterie spread, heavy on the cheeses. Was that smoked gouda? I think it was.

The beer was flowing too, though I was driving home this night - one more day of work before my last weekend pre-surgery - so I skipped a couple of samples and cut back a few others from five ounces to two.

Still, lots of love for my friends and for the beer, which included Kokomo from Fairweather - a Sour IPA with coconut and lime that earned the unanimous descriptive of "fucking delicious" - as well as two from Bellwoods (White Picket Fence and Barn Owl #17), a pair from Sawdust City (Super Juicin' and Blackberry Juicin') and brews from Barncat (Saison Blush) and Burdock (Bu Woo).

The final sample of my night was my first ever from Small Pony of Ottawa, a tasty treasure I found at the LCBO called Mares in a Jam, a Dark Sour aged in oak barrels with raspberries.

Good beer, great company and even better cheese. You couldn't ask for more.

Shannon, Jen, Mary, Matt and Oliver

The next night was Saturday and I had already committed to attending Matt Allot's birthday bash at Manantler - such a social butterfly I am - and I was extra thrilled to be going to this event as a couple of friends I hadn't seen in a while would be there.

Jen, who I hadn't seen since her Jack 'n Jill many months before, and her BFF and my birthday twin Shannon, who hadn't been spotted since she packed up and moved to Ottawa.

(I actually made two stops at Beyond the Pale Brewery - where she is already a star - during last year's 613 Brewery Invasion but couldn't make the connection. No worries - she's here now.)

Jen and Shannon brought their friend Mary, who works in sales at Flying Monkeys in Barrie, so after getting a pint in at the bar we eventually gravitated to the barrel room, where there was beer on a table just asking to be sampled, as well as barrels with 'Do Not Touch' written on them just waiting to be ... not touched.

Which became a source of amusement for my friends, especially after Oliver, who had just left 5 Paddles Brewing in search of new adventure the day before, came in with Megan and was horrified to see the ladies posing for pics in front of the barrels and those forbidding signs.

Oliver was promised no barrels were touched during the making of the instagram posts, we all had a good laugh and another beer and then Matt, the Global Ambassador for Super Cool Brewery Owners, walked in and hired Oliver on the spot.

Just kidding. Oliver's got a new gig uptown. He's doing all right.

A little later in the evening I found myself outside in a circle of about 20 of Bowmanville's coolest cats and their friends ... discussing world politics or some-such, and that was pretty cool too, as was Matt gifting me a bottle from his first barrel-aged series, a Russian Imperial Stout that had been aged in Buffalo Trace bourbon barrels for 15 months and then bottle conditioned for a few more.

Such a prince, our Matt.

And such a great vibe all night long.

The Champ

The news from Australia was getting more positive as well. There were still fires burning but the rains had begun to fall and firefighters were finally gaining control. From pictures of kangaroos dancing in the rain (they were probably fighting but I don't want to ruin a good narrative) to stories of heroic wombats sharing their burrows with other animals, the new images from Down Under were of the hopeful variety and I couldn't be happier.

And then I found myself lying on an operating bed with an anesthesiologist sticking a big needle into the small of my back while I counted at least five nurses and one guy hiding in the corner trying his best not to be seen.

It was just before the drugs kicked in when Dr. Osinga, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Family Guy's Peter Griffin, came striding into the room whilst rapping out a routine at full volume from The Champ, the Jake Edwards punch-drunk boxer bit from Q107's history vault:

"I said Pardon?

Wait, what?

I head-fake him with a copy of Moby Dick and the idiot goes for it.
A flipper to the jaw, a hook to the mouth and he's gasping for air like a fish out of water.
I said, 'how's that pal? Is that enough, 'I'd like to see ..."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

I may or may not have heard his last line before I entered dreamland...

"Ever since then I've been The Champ."

Year-end Review: Best of 2019

(Part Two)

The best of the best of the best, huh?

With so many excellent breweries run by so many amazing people producing so many great beers, it was tougher than usual picking my favourite this year. Choosing my top brewery, brewer and all my other best-of winners was no easy task either.

First world problems I guess.

With all my category winners checked off in Part One of this year-end blog, it's time to pick the beers that really blew me away in 2019, a top-10 list I narrowed down to 11.

Eleven Most Delicious Beers of 2019

I think the first beer I raved about last spring was Double Jutsu from Bellwoods. I'd had it before but this batch seemed to speak to me, and in a super sexy voice too. Not long after that transcendent experience I enjoyed my first Peanut Butter Godiva from 5 Paddles and I thought I was in peanut butter heaven. An incredible beer I've had many times since.

My first trip (of several) to Fairweather Brewing in Hamilton was highlighted by a single hop Pale Ale called One By One - Simcoe (or alternatively, Menagerie - the naming conventions at Fairweather get confusing sometimes), while my second visit was capped by a delicious Porter by the very apt name of Silky. A subsequent trip to neighbouring Grain & Grit unearthed a Belgian IPA by the name of Crop Circles and you can probably see why I love Hamilton's beer scene so much.

Peanut Butter Godiva

A DIPA With Fruit, a collaboration between Dominion City (Ottawa) and Barncat (Cambridge) arrived by Canada Post later in the year and was simply divine, and that was (almost) rivaled by another IIPA, Double Descente from Boreale of Quebec. That one was a gift from mes amis Ottawa Joel. Thanks buddy.

Speaking of Ottawa, a little downtown brewery housed in the basement of an 1867 piece of history produced a beer - Waller Street Black IPA - that was incredibly impressive. And then there was Karma Citra, an IPA from Great Lakes I have been salivating over since I first got into craft beer six years ago.

That leaves me with two offerings from Little Beasts: Little Wizards, a Gose which is a collaboration with local hot spot Brew Wizards that hit all the right salty/sour notes; and Valkyrie, a Kviek-yeasted APA that I praised so much and so often that Erin & John put it in the regular rotation just to shut me up. That's the story I'm sticking with, anyway.

One of these brews is going to be my Beer of the Year.

Best Beer Writer

I read other beer writers when I can, though it's usually something I just happen upon on social media, rather than something I seek out. I catch up on international beer news through Stephen Beaumont, American beery tales through Bryan Roth and I love to read anything by Jordan St. John. I wish he'd write more often.

My Beer Bros Don Redmond and Robert Arsenault (Drunk Polkeroo) are the writers closest to my heart and both are prolific, entertaining and highly skilled at their craft and I get a little hitch in my giddy-up when I see one of them posted something new. But the star writer of 2019, in my mind, was someone who always seemed to be the first to break the story on critical issues - you know, the ones involving misogyny and racism and stuff - and was a fierce defender of all that was good in the world of craft beer.

Double Jutsu

Robin LeBlanc for the win.

Best Beer City

My travels took me to Hamilton (numerous times), Ottawa, Toronto (particularly the west side of the city) and a few other spots around the province, but the little town immediately to the west of my home in downtown Oshawa earned most of my love - and my cash - in 2019. Home court advantage to be sure, but it is what it is.

Whitby gets the nod, with Hamilton real close.

Breweries I want to visit in 2020

I have enjoyed beer from a few on this list, such as Elora, Rouge River and Wavemaker, while Badlands, Godspeed and Mascot would be brand new experiences. I also want to visit whatever brewery Jim Gorry opens in Orono next year, although we all know how the business works so there's no guarantee Jim will be open in 2020. But here's hoping.

Number one on this list, however, is Wavemaker in Cambridge. My pal Matt brews there and a group of us visited Matt and Jess (best boss ever) in 2018 - before the brewery opened. I haven't been back but I aim to rectify that in 2020.

Best Brewmaster

I know a few brewers but I don't really know what goes on every day at my favourite breweries, so there's a lot of speculation and dart-throwing in this category. But I managed to pick five brewers for my final list: Erin Broadfoot and John Henley at Little Beasts; Corey Fairs at Manantler; Mike Lackey at Great Lakes and Ram McAllister at Fairweather.

Valkyrie

In the end I went with the brewer who hasn't had a misstep that I know of in 2019 (unless you count a non-existent Twitter presence, which is not really his department so I won't): Ram McAllister (Fairweather).

Brewery of the Year

Tough call here for sure, but I winnowed the list down to five breweries that all mastered the secret art of being innovative as well as consistently awesome. Manantler, Little Beasts and 5 Paddles from my Durham Region backyard, as well as Dominion City (Ottawa) and Fairweather (Hamilton), made the final cut.

Considering it led in category nominations (9) and just may have produced my Beer of the Year as well (spoiler alert!), the choice is clear: It's gotta be Little Beasts (Whitby).

Beer of the Year

You probably know by now which beer is my champion of 2019. God, I love Kviek yeast.

Valkyrie (Little Beasts)

Cheers and Happy New Year!

Year in Review - 2019 in Beer

(Part One)

Year-end blogs are highly subjective affairs at the best of times. It's MY favourite beers after all, and you didn't get a vote.

Also, being relatively poor means my disposable income is limited, so I tend to buy a lot of what I already know or are very confident I will love. I get out and about a bit to stretch my palate on occasion and I am usually pleasantly surprised when I do, so maybe there's hope for me as a beer reviewer yet.

But I freely admit my list barely scratches the surface of the wonderful selection of beer we have at our disposal in this province. So be it. I am writing this year-end review anyway.

Besides, I have a few family members and a handful of friends who have the misguided view that I am a Beer Influencer. Bless you for that, but you are incorrect. Maybe next year.

So  I write, which is  a good thing, as I haven't written much of anything in several months. I rehashed some old blogs but produced nothing new since I wrote a story on the Downtown Whitby Beer Festival in early October. Before that it was Part One (of what was supposed to be a three-part blog) of the Ottawa Brewery Invasion in September. Parts Two & Three never saw print.

This shot from Port Credit's Stonehooker Brewery
 - brilliantly captured by Candice - sums up the
vibe we all experience at our Brewery Invasions.
The next one is next month in Kingston.

Sorry Waller Street Brewing, Bicycle  Brewing and Dominion City. My pal Don wrote about you, so there's that.

We did another brewery invasion in November, hitting up five of Hamilton's excellent breweries (Fairweather, Grain & Grit, Merit, Collective Arts and Clifford), as well as Nickel Brook, Cameron's and Stone Hooker just to the east.

Not a word from me, however.

But there's a lot more to enjoying great beer than writing about it and 2019 turned out to be a pretty special year for beer and the friendships that go along with it.

Using that a touchstone, it was a damn good year for beer indeed.

I spent a day up at Lake of Bays' Huntsville Brewhouse helping to brew a beer, made multiple visits to Hamilton (I love the Hammer) and, as mentioned, sampled some of Ottawa's best during a memorable trip to our nation's capital.

I also visited my locals - particularly Little Beasts and Manantler - as often as I could afford, so I was able to get out of the house a bit.

And 2020 promises to be a much more productive year, filled with big changes. I'm moving, for one thing (although that has been delayed numerous times already so I shouldn't jinx it) and that comes with a new job and new responsibilities.

I'm really looking forward to that.

I'm also getting a full knee replacement (Total Knee Arthoplasty is the technical term) for my left knee in just over a week. Not sure I'm exactly looking forward to that, or to the physio that will follow, but it has to be done and I'm anxious to get started on this new chapter.

Maybe - just maybe - I can get back to writing on a regular basis too. I be REALLY looking forward to that.

Speaking of which, this is supposed to be a blog about beer, so let's get started.

IPAs and their friends

Karma Citra

IPA - The OG for me, and the style that got me hooked on craft beer. It's also still the most popular craft beer, and I had plenty of excellent examples to choose from this year. But for once, there wasn't a beer that stood out from the rest. I considered four from Great Lakes Brewery (GLB) - still the King of IPAs in Ontario - and 14 other beers from 13 different breweries.

The finalists included Octopus Wants To Fight, As Far Back As I Can Remember, Karma Citra and Thrust! from GLB; Roman Candle and Ghost Orchid from Bellwoods; as well as Greenwood (Left Field), High Grade (Fairweather), Headstock (Nickel Brook), On The Lam (Bicycle), Hazed & Confused (Muskoka), Australis (Elora), Fat Tug (Driftwood), In the Palms (Grain & Grit), Sunsplit (Dominion City), Square Wheels (Town), Dr. Juice (5 Paddles) and Melo (Wavemaker).

Often  a finalist but never a winner, Karma Citra (GLB) takes home the prize this year.

Imperial IPA - Could be the strongest category in 2019, with more than one IIPA also making my Best-of-the-Best list. So many impressive doubles this year, including Radio the Mothership and Big Cat Roars from Collective Arts, Double Descente fom Boreale. Unrivalled from Merit, A DIPA With Fruit from Dominion City and Barncat, Hopslam from Bells, Double Jutsu from Bellwoods, Laser Show from Left Field and Lil' Sebastian from Town.

The winner came in a box from Ottawa, via Canada Post - my one and only beer mail in 2019: A DIPA With Fruit (Dominion City/Barncat)

Triple IPA - I didn't enjoy too many Triple IPAs this past year, but there were three which stood out: Null & Void from Dominion City, Sparklepuff from Flying Monkeys - yes, if you can get a can without chunks it is a sublime beer - and Kraken from Little Beasts.

Considering Sparklepuff's controversial history, I chose Null & Void (Dominion City) and Kraken (Little Beasts) in a dead heat.

Quadruple IPA - Yes, that's a thing, though I had just one this year. But it was a winner: Cradle to Grave (5 Paddles)

Milkshake IPA -  I feel like this style suffered somewhat after the initial craze a couple of years ago as too many brewers were producing thin beers that tasted of vanilla and lactose and not much else. But there were two which stood out for me in 2019: Rumble Juice, a collaboration between Little Beasts and a couple of local homebrewers; and Peach & Apricot from Bicycle.

The winner? Rumble Juice (Little Beasts)

Crop Circles

Session IPA - Me, Myself & Mosaic (Manantler) for the win, besting Good Times (Beau's) and Paddle On (Lake of Bays).

Wet Hopped IPA - V Bines (5 Paddles)
Black IPA - Waller Street Black IPA
Nano IPA - We All Can't Be Patrick Swayze (5 Paddles)
Rye IPA - Rainbows in the Dark (Redline)

Belgian or White IPA - Three excellent examples of the style - a long-time favourite of mine - were Crop Circles (Grain & Grit), Rabbit of Caebernog (Indie Ale House) and Wag the Wolf (Beau's).

The champ is one of my favourite beers of 2019: Crop Circles (Grain & Grit).

ESB - A style I used to enjoy more often, so when I tried Mugg's Life (Manantler) I knew I had to honour it. Thanks Matt.

American Pale Ale - Might be my favourite style these days. More sessionable and so incredible delicious. If I could marry an APA, I would. Eleven made the cut in 2019, including two from Little Beasts (Valkyrie & Pinion); two from Manantler (Eastern Promises & Tunnel Vision); two from Fairweather (One By One Idaho Gem & One By One Simcoe); two from Bellwoods (Wizard Wolf Citra & Columbus and Wizard Wolf Simcoe & Mosaic); Redline (Clutch), Beyond the Pale (Yummy) and Town (Four Corners).

The winner (by a landslide): Valkyrie (Little Beasts)

The Dark Side

Imperial Stout - I spent my cash judiciously on these beers, which can be pricey, so I missed out on most of the special releases of 2019. But the ones I did enjoy? So worth it. My three finalists were Origin of Darkness - with Cannelloni (Collective Arts), Peanut Butter Godiva (5 Paddles) and Prodromus (Omnipollo).

Silky

Considering how often I waxed poetically about it, the obvious winner was Peanut Butter Godiva (5 Paddles).

Porter - Two finalists to select from, and they're both from Hamilton: Clifford Porter and Silky (Fairweather). The winner is Silky (Fairweather). So good.

Tropical Stout - Wait So Long (Little Beasts/Victor North)
Session Stout - Peanut Butter Shake (Whitewater)
Brown Ale - Barley Brown (Manantler)

Lagers, Saisons & Sours

Sours - The tangy goodness of a well-made Sour is a well deserved break after a tough day, and the market is full of excellent Sours these days. There were five  which got my attention in 2019, including two from Fairweather: Dream Pop and Kokomo. Little Beasts (Changeling - Peach/Apricot), Town (Fruit Dart) and Shacklands (Cosmic Trigger) also made the list.

The winners are Cosmic Trigger (Shacklands) and Fruit Dart (Town).

Saisons - Two finalists, with La Saison d'Ete (Little Beasts) edging Earl Grey Marmalade (Dominion City).

Lager - Decoy Lager (Spearhead)
Kolsch - Clean Cut (Beyond the Pale)
Gose - Little Wizard (Little Beasts/Brew Wizards)

Next up, my top 11 beers of 2019 (I couldn't stop at 10), Best Brewer, Best Brewery, a few other best-in-class winners and my Beer of the Year.

Cheers!

First published in 2013, I tweak it a bit from time to time. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all in this great city! We will get through this to hug again

The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Shwa

Not a creature was stirring, not even the law
My IPA was spiked with the finest in cheap gin
St Nicholas would know that was a win

My youngest was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of Mem Cup tickets danced in his head
And me in my boxers, the presents in a heap

Had just passed out for a short Christmas sleep

When out on the driveway there arose such a din
I sprang from the couch, knocking over the gin
Away to the door I ran but I stumbled
My boxers were tattered my fingers they fumbled

I made it outside in time to see a rare thing

The Mayor of Oshawa in full gangsta bling

He gave me a nod to say it was safe to go home

He didn’t see the sleigh all shiny and chromed

The man in the suit, I knew him straight away

I saw him downtown already today

His sleigh-pulling team, faster than eagles

Was six new Sierras and a used Buick Regal

Now Davis and Kornic! Now Giberson I say!

On Bell! On Julius! On Rosemary and Gray!
To the top of the building! To the top of the sky!
I put down the bottle ‘cause I must be too high

As dry heaves convulse me for I’ve seen far too much
I’ve seen bloody Santa Claus, his presents and such

I shielded my eyes as his sleigh-cars they glistened

I knew he was real, if only they listened

And then, in a flash I heard a noise on my ceiling
Like the sounds from the BIA, when one side’s appealing
I raced in the house in time to see Big Red

The jolly guy himself asleep on my bed

He was dressed in bright red, trimmed in black leather
He looked like he could handle any foul weather
His big sack of toys had fallen to the floor
The mud from his boots left a trail to the door

His eyes, how they sparkled! I’d say if he woke

But alas! I just hoped he hadn’t had a stroke
His face was all crimson, that was a concern

I hoped it wasn't Covid; perhaps just sunburn

His lips lacked the pipe he smoked in the day

Santa quit smoking, hip hip and hooray!
He had a kind little face and a six-pack for a tummy

He’d been to the gym; Mrs. Claus didn’t raise no dummy

He jumped to his feet; Santa was ready to go

There were kids to appease, he couldn’t say no

He gave me a smile, a nod and a wink

And said he’s off to drop toys at Harmon Park rink

He floated out the window and onto his sleigh

And revved up the engines, like’s he’s done each day

He gave me a wave and he soared o’er the trees

The Oshawa Centre be the next thing he sees

He blared all his horns as his sleigh flew away

Christmas, he yelled, comes only today
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"