Marie, Christmas presents 'n beer - together forever

Poor Marie.

I'm not asking for sympathy for my friend because everyone wants (and many have had) her husband Ernie's delicious sausage, oh no. Not for having to work with my pal Don at The Beer Store, either, though that may be a legitimate reason for condolences.

No, I ask you shed a small tear for Marie because her birthday falls on Christmas Day.

If you want to maximize your present numbers, December 25 is the absolute WORST day to have a birthday. It's all well and good if you're Justin Trudeau, because growing up the son of a Prime Minister comes with its own perks. For the rest of us, having a birthday at Christmas is a total burn.

So we decided to do something about that extremely untenable situation. Don did, anyway. He organized a party at Rib Eye Jack's Ale House in Burlington (the better to show off his new favourite craft beer bar) to give Marie that birthday bash she deserved.

And to the surprise on no one, I used the party and the 90 minute drive to Burlington as an excuse to drive another 40 minutes each way to Niagara Falls, N.Y. to do a little cross-border beer shopping.

Now, when I say cross-border beer shopping, I really mean cross-border beer smuggling, as day trip shopping excursions are subject to duty and nobody wants to pay duty; least of all me. But nobody - least of all me - wants to end up in jail, on my government's blacklist, or, worst of all, beer-less because my prizes were confiscated.

So a strategy was in order.

In September I took the advice of the friendly clerk at Consumer's Beverages in Niagara Falls (just past the I-90) and put a couple of bottles up front with me to declare to customs. You know, as a show of honesty. The other six or seven bombers were hidden under a trunk load of work clothes, tools and assorted crap or under the seats up front.

Worked like a charm, despite a wrong turn at duty free forcing me to re-enter Canada TWICE.

This time I used the same strategy. A six-pack of Grapefruit Sculpin from Ballast Point occupied the front seat with me, while four bottles were stashed in the trunk and a fifth was hidden under the passenger seat. A couple of Ruinations (one for me and one for Don, because he cries like a baby if I don't get him one) and an Arrogant Bastard from Stone Brewery; a Beer Camp IIPA from Sierra Nevada with my friend Cat in mind; and a Yellow Snow IPA from Rogue.

I wanted to buy more but I didn't want to push my luck.

And then I headed back to the border, where I picked the wrong lane, waiting 45 minutes while cars to the left of me and cars to right of me were waved through without delay.

At least nobody was getting the "open your trunk, please" treatment.

Finally it was my turn and the friendly officer, after giving me a funny look when I told her I drove from Burlington to Niagara Falls for "six awesome IPAs" processed me very quickly. She handed my my passport back ("yes!"), with a little yellow slip of paper sticking out of it ("wait, what?") and said, "park over there where it says Canada."

Damn.

So I parked. And watched two burly young men appear from the mist and tell to step out of the car, pop the trunk and wait on the bench until they were done ransacking my car.

All I could think was I'm screwed. I am royally screwed.

One guy started pawing though my trunk while the other pushed the driver seat forward and started searching under the seat.

I was SO screwed. They're going to put me in jail. They're going to red flag me for the rest of my life. They're going to take my beer.

They're going to take my damn beer.

After five minutes - maybe less - of searching, they called my over for the final interrogation. "Why did you come all this way for six beers, sir?" I was asked. "It's only from Burlington. And the IPAs are fantastic," I said. "Burlington is 40 minutes away," he countered. "That's why we pulled you aside. We couldn't figure out why you would drive all this way for six beers."

I muttered something about the awesome ales and hoped there wouldn't be any cavity searches at the end of this ordeal. And then the talkative one told me to have a good day and both of them walked away.

I can go? I'm not going to Customs Jail? How the hell did you not find the beer?

None of those thoughts were expressed out loud and in fact, by the time I asked myself the third question I was already gone and headed north through Niagara Falls (Canada, of course) and on my way to Rib-Eye Jack's in Burlington.

I think next time I will have to devise a new smuggling strategy. I only own so many underwear.

The delay at the border made me a little late for the party, but considering I was driving home after, that was probably a good thing.

Don, who was out having a smoke, met me outside the bar to accept the bottle I got him and to tell me some shocking news: he was going to 'gift' the bottle of Stone Ruination IIPA. That's right. He was planning to give away Ruination; the beer that sends him into fits of rapturous delight. Oh, the sacrifice.

The recipient of his largesse was the decidedly diminutive Kylie, the "uber knowledgeable Beer Technician to the stars" - I quote Don here, with the middle two words her official title - who would be one of our servers this night.

Don's been talking up her beer skills for weeks and I have to agree, though she (and a bunch of other beer experts) can't seem to pick out the smell of gym socks in a double IPA so she isn't perfect. That's right: gym socks and its pungent aroma was what the entire table got from a beer she recommended.

I'll get to that beer - which was delicious, by the way - in a moment, but I should introduce the party goers at this birthday bash. Cat and our friend Blair couldn`t make the event, so it turns out that I was the only person who didn`t work for The Beer Store or was related to someone who did.

The boys from Hologram enjoying Michelle's divine cake

There was Marie, the lady of honour sitting at the head of the table drinking Mill Street Cobblestone Stout, Anchor Steam Lager and some whiskey and God knows what else (and looking fresh as a daisy); her husband Ernie, he of the famous sausage, sucking back Mill Street Organic Lager, and their son Marc. There was Gord, who stepped up his game from his usual Coors Light to join Ernie with Mill Street`s Organic Lager`and who was in his glory razzing Don, who seemed to disappear every two minutes to secretly chat on his flip phone (a woman? I think so); there was Michelle and Ken. I don`t know what Ken was drinking but Michelle was seen sipping on a Grapefruit Radler which isn`t actually beer but I forgave her because she brought the birthday cake - a cookie crust chocolate cake with this whipped cream filling that was so good that the excellent two-man band had to have some too.

And then there were gym socks. Kylie ceremoniously brought out a bottle of Innocente Brewery's Guilty Conscience, a double IIPA that smelled like a junior high school locker room. Seriously. This aroma was shared round the table and the reaction was the same each time: the wrinkled nose of disgust. Don and I liked the beer though - there was grapefruit and resiny pine on the palate  with quite an enjoyable bitter finish - but that aroma! Thing was, Kylie didn't get it, and neither did the reviews on Rate Beer that I read, though one writer noted a 'sweaty tropical fruit aroma.'

I'll go with gym socks.

Rib Eye Jacks is quite the bar. It has an extensive craft beer selection, as well as whiskeys to satisfy every taste - and it treats its products like it treats its patrons - with reverance. The staff is extremely knowledgeable and the food is fantastic. I had the Bacon Maple Onion Burger (with a salad of course - one must watch one's girlish figure) and it was nearly as good as Michelle's cake.

I had something from Bellwoods to start - Roman Candle I think - and I also had a Anchor Liberty Ale (not as good as I remember) before finishing with a five-ounce taste of Don's pint of Boogie Monster from Indie Ale House.

And then it was time to go, after giving the birthday girl a kiss on the cheek and thanking Don for picking up my tab. (Thanks Broseph!) I was going home with bombers of Arrogant Bastard Ale (Stone); Ruination IIPA (Stone); and Yellow Snow IPA (Rogue); as well as most of a six pack of Grapefruit Sculpin (Ballast Point). And I wasn't in Canada Customs jail, which was also a good thing.

I'll be back to Rib Eye Jacks and I will be crossing the border again to get some fine IPAs when I do. I'll have a better smuggling strategy this time.

                                                                                     *

Three of the beers I brought back from the U.S. were new to me so I will take this opportunity to review them here. The Grapefruit Sculpin is a beer I have been seeking for some time, as the regular Sculpin was excellent. More grapefruit can't be a bad thing, no? Turns out, no, it wasn't. It poured a pale golden with a nice head which dissipated quickly. Lots of grapefruit on the nose and big citrus hops on the tongue. Grapefruit juice and more grapefruit juice with a little pineapple thrown in. Nice bitter finish. Excellent.

Arrogant Bastard was Stone's first offering when they opened 18 years ago and it was pretty damn good for a malty beer. Deep mahogany pour with a thick creamy and persistent head. There’s plenty of strong malt character on the nose with some dark fruits. Big and arrogant toasted malts on the tongue along with some sticky piney hops and a big bitter finish. For a malt-forward beer (not my usual wheelhouse) this was outstanding.

Yellow Snow IPA from Rogue (love the name) was a wee bit bit disappointing but still a good beer. This brew starts out golden but has a bronze finish. Mild aroma with a nice balance of crackery (if that’s a word) malts and citrusy and lemony hops. Quite drinkable but I was hoping for a little better.

Cheer and Happy New Year! And Happy Birthday Marie!

It's 11.05 ... somewhere

"You again?"

That was my greeting at Buster Rhino's when I walked in for another taste of a special brewmasters' birthday beer that had me in a perpetual state of beergasm.

Sarah, My IPA Girl's greeting-with-attitude may have been because it was my fourth trip to the bar in three days for the beer, or it could have been because the last time I saw her I spit on her.

More on that in a bit.

The beer is a Triple IPA called 11.05, named for the shared birthdays of the two brewers who collaborated on its creation (Sam Corbeil, Sawdust City and Ryan Morrow, Nickel Brook); it's alcohol count; and for its release date. And I wanted it. Bad.

And so began another damned quest.

When you live in Ontario it is often difficult, or at least impractical, to find decent IPAs and their friends. The LCBO and The Beer Store, bless their government/foreign multinational hearts, do what they can to bring us delicious beers - sort of - but it's really a hit or miss affair to find the best of Ontario's craft beer on the retail shelves.

Great beer is always available at the breweries, of course, but that brings us back to the impractical. Sure and it's all wonderful if you live in Burlington, like my friend Don, and have Nickel Brook Brewery in your backyard. Or if you live in Toronto, like my friend Cat, and have Amsterdam Brewery just down the road and any number of great breweries and brew pubs within cab distance.

But I have no such luxury living in The Shwa. There are a few new breweries around that show promise, but there is nary a decent IPA to be found. So I can either drive into Toronto or beyond or hope (often against all odds) that the awesome ale I'm seeking shows up in a nearby bar.

So when Sawdust City and Nickel Brook collaborated on a Triple IPA that was all about the hops, I was on board in a big way. But the chances of me finding the time to get up to Gravenhurst to the Sawdust City bottle shop was slim, so I was going to have to find it on tap somewhere. And with time and money issues, heading to Toronto to find it wasn't going to much easier than Muskoka.

At least Don will get his hands on this, I figured. Surely this beer will be available in Nickel Brook's bottle shop, as they are co-collaborators. But no. "None at Nickel Brook. So I'll never get one," Don lamented.

But after a few days of searching I lucked out: the good people at Sawdust City told me, via Facebook, that they sold a keg to my local, Buster Rhino's in Oshawa.

Hello!

I decided to pop by on the weekend to find out when my man Darryl was going to tap this baby, and two days later I walked into the bar after a work shift and there it was on the chalkboard.

"11.05."

I was able to keep my grin on my face, but barely. This is a Triple IPA, a rare (it's expensive and time consuming to make) style that I have enjoyed but once during my one year as a craft beer addict. It's also important to remember that big, boozy beers that clock in at 11 per cent alcohol are usually big and boozy because it is extremely difficult for the brewer to mask all that booze.

11.05 - Triple awesomeness in a glass

Morrow and Corbeil must have some certified mad skills, because this beer is billed as a hop monster with little boozy malt character. Kinda of like my dream beer recipe.

So yeah, I was excited. Both brew masters are at the top of their games so I was anxious to see if the beer would taste as advertised.

"11.05 please," I said to the lovely Jessica, who gave me a smile and really, really HUGE and intoxicating citrus hops in return. Grapefruit, mango and bitter orange, as well as lots of resiny pine dominate the tongue and the finish is all pine, silky smooth and chewable caramel malts and more citrus, with just a touch of booze at the end.

Out-freaking-standing beer.

Halfway through my glass I turn around and see Sarah, off-duty and enjoying a stout with her friend Courtney, two amigos who recently returned from a beer-cation to California. Now Sarah, all of 24, has tons more experience in the world of IPAs than I, and as the keg was tapped the day before I knew she had already tried it and I was eager to get her take on it.

"My IPA Girl," I cried, sauntering over to their table in my best Ron Burgundy walk. "Tell me you agree 11.05 is amazing!"

"It's okay," said the woman who has enjoyed a Heady Topper or two and has (at the time of writing) a bottle of Pliny the Elder resting in her fridge. "But I've had better."

Truth, I admit, but still blasphemy.  She clearly needed more convincing. "Sarah," I sputtered, quite literally, as a small projectile of excitement left my mouth and landed - ping! - on her jacket shoulder.

All style and class, this guy.

"Oops," said I, wiping it off cool as a cucumber and continuing my nattering about the awesomeness of the beer while Courtney looked at me like I was slightly insane. "It's a Triple IPA that's all about the hops," I reminded Sarah. "Why don't you think it's fantastic?"

"I like it," she answered. "I've just had...better."

Maybe so, Sarah. But it's the best Triple IPA I've ever had and I was back the next day for some more. Twice, actually:  I returned for lunch and then had a nightcap after another shift of my keeps-me-in-gas-and-beer part-time job. Each time the beer tasted a little better than the last.

I also learned a few things about the bar business along the way. I popped in one afternoon to find Darryl and Julian, a sales manager with Flying Monkeys Brewery, in the midst of an animated discussion about IPA drinkers in Oshawa and the number of empty kegs littering Buster Rhino's back room.

Caps of Wisdom from Flying Monkeys 

It seems Darryl would prefer not to pay deposits on kegs if certain sales reps didn't pick them up for return, and Julian would really like it if Buster Rhino's could carry Smashbomb Atomic on tap.

I promised Julian I would be there every day (and blog about it to my friends) if he and Darryl could strike a deal. Darryl was hesitant on his end because Hoptical Illusion didn't sell well when he carried it during the summer and Julian didn't want to commit to solving the empty keg issue until he spoke to his boss.

I left them to their negotiations.

Eventually, all good things must pass, and on the seventh day the keg of 11.05 was drained. I know this because on the eighth day I entered the bar full of hope, only to see that faith dashed when I noticed the chalkboard did NOT contain the numbers 11 or 05.

On the bright side, a keg filled with 11 per cent ABV, premium-priced beer, took just a bit over a week to empty. In a town that many would have you believe doesn't have many IPA drinkers, I think that's pretty impressive. I know I didn't drink it all myself.

But still. I wanted one more day.

Jessica, seeing the look on my face, was sympathetic. "I'm sorry we are out of 11.05, but we have something new you might like: Citraddiction from Great Lakes. They tell me it's all juicy hops. I think you'll like it."

"Juicy hops, huh? I guess that'll do. I'll take a pint, please."


**

I've been hearing for nearly a year about the greatness of Lake Effect IPA from Great Lakes - one of their Tank Ten series beers - so I was eagerly anticipating the release of the new batch. With a Rate Beer score of 98 and 80 IBUs, this is a beer worth waiting for.

Great Lakes, Canada's two-time Brewery of the Year, hasn't failed me yet so this has got to be a hop bomb, right?

Kind of. Maybe.

It was certainly the bomb on the nose, with a big blast of grapefruit, followed by more grapefruit and lemon with some pine at the end. But I was looking for more bracing bitterness than was delivered so I was a wee bit disappointed. Still a fine IPA, but not in the class of My Bitter Wife, another Great Lakes IPA that was my Mid-Summer Beer of the Year.

Citraddiction - A world class session beer

Citraddiction was another story. This Great Lakes beer is single-hopped with Citra, just like the brewery's excellent Karma Citra IPA, but with a lighter body - it's a 4.4 per cent session beer - and more juiciness. Waaay more juiciness.

This beer is all about the hops, with grapefruit and mango flavours fairly bursting out of the glass and lingering on my palate for what seems like forever. Or at least until the next sip. It wasn't 11.05, but it was damn good.

One of the more interesting beers I tried this year was Bog Water from Beaus. A Gruit beer, this unique brew features bog myrtle - an ancient herb used by brewers for hundreds of years (at least until the Bavarian Purity Laws came into effect) - and results in a dark, spicy ale that very nearly defies description.

I'll try anyway.

There is almost no aroma but there`s plenty of bready malts on the tongue, along with some earthiness and an eclectic mix of spices. Some are lager-like and others not so much. Must be the myrtle. A gift from my daughter for baby-sitting my wonderful grandkids, this is an interesting beer, to say the least.

My first saison is now in the books after I found Sorachi Ace from Brooklyn Brewery in the LCBO recently. This highly regarded beer - 98 on Rate Beer - showcases sorachi ace hops from Japan and is billed as `Sunshine in a Glass.`

I agree.

Bright and zesty with a creamy head, this beer is all lemon and spices on the tongue. It's wonderfully carbonated with a crisp finish that includes lots more light citrus and Belgian spices. Very nice. Great, actually.

Cheers!

Unapologetic about beer

It's been 23 days since my last confession, I mean blog, but I am unapologetic about that and ask not for forgiveness. It has been 30 days - an entire month - since I passed out early at Donny's Bar & Grill (at a party that was kinda my idea) but I am unapologetic about that as well.

But those unapologies pale in comparison to some the world has heard over the years. Many were squeaked by vain men caught with their pants down at their ankles, but those were but childish rants compared to the final words of the great Greek philosopher Socrates.

It was on his death bed that Socrates, sentenced to die in 360 B.C. by hemlock poisoning for the crime of "corrupting Athen's youth" and "blaspheming local gods" with his philosophical notions, uttered these words: "The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways, he said to his accusers, defiant to the end. "I to die and you to live, Which is better, God only knows."

Socrates, famous for such seditious (and tragically prophetic) sayings as "Death may be the greatest of all human blessings," and "The only true wisdom is knowing you know nothing," was unrepentant and most certainly unapologetic in his final moments.

The great California brewing minds at Stone, Beachwood and Heretic breweries had the same idea - minus the dying part - when they got together got together to a create a double IPA that took unapolgies to a new level.

Who says the world needed another IPA? They did and they made no apologies about it when they created Unapologetic IPA. At 8.8 per cent ABV this beer took me to another level as well, but more on that later.

The beer was one of the highlights of the Mid-Autumn Night's Decadent Dangerous Craft Beer Festival, held in Burlington on the last Saturday in October. Buying the beer and then smuggling it across the border was another high point, and I submit that I am a better smuggler of awesome ales than I am a drinker of them.

There were some mitigating factors, but the bottom line is I bailed early on the party, leaving myself vulnerable to a certain level of mockery as I slept the sleep of someone down for the count.

But disregard all of those salacious rumours circulating on social media, because I did get my fancy Holt Renfrew shirt (100 per cent silk, yo) back from the international lost and found at the Days Inn in Niagara Falls, N.Y. and I did bring back some spectacular IPAs from that fair city's local Consumers Beverages outlet, so I'm calling it a successful day.

I even got to take a few Stone Brewing bombers home with me the next day as well as two growlers filled with Headstock IPA (one more than my promised allotment: thank you Cat) - and got a belated birthday hug from host Don's awesome son David as well - so it was all good.

The genesis of all this happened in early September, shortly after the Oshawa Craft Beer Festival (Ciders and Seasonals). My pal Brian and I were there, and I was joined later in the afternoon by Cat and her friend Blair (our newest full-fledged Musketeer), who came in from Toronto for the beer fest. We had no trouble enjoying some delicious and often unique beers (Not a normal beer fest), while easily avoiding the horrible pumpkin ales and most of the ciders.

Don, however, could not make this Motor City event, citing work commitments. I suspect the thought of being that close to vile (his word) ciders  was too much for him, but as I've known him for a long time, so I'll take his word on it.

The Stone Brewing Wall of Fame

In any event, we started planning another Donny's Bar & Grill event, and decided to open up the guest list to other people in Don's circle (which is a lot) to make it a real party. And I started rationalizing about ways to turn a trip from Oshawa to Burlington into another voyage across the border to get a few more excellent IPAs and their friends.

When it's an hour-and-a-half from my apartment to Donny's Bar & Grill, what's another hour or so to get to Niagara Falls, N.Y. and Consumers Beverages?

For further justification, I needed only remember that I had left my best shirt - a 100 per cent silk Holt Renfrew number, part of my Rich Cousin's Boyfriend's Hand-Me Down Collection - at the Days Inn in Niagara Falls after my last trip to upstate New York in early September.

The hotel staff had it - I called right after I got home from the September trip - and were putting it aside for me. So hang tight, Stone Brewing IPAs. I'm coming for you.

I was up at four a.m. that day - as per usual - and went in to  work my abbreviated three-hour weekend shift. Then it was off to Toronto to spend some time with my folks, where I got lovingly roped into moving some (very heavy) furniture from the basement out to the curb.

Then I was border bound, where I watched trunks being inspected all around me by excitable customs officials. And I started to sweat just a little. See, I was going over the wall for just an hour or so, meaning that every beer I brought back would be subject to duty.

I was kind of hoping to avoid paying all that duty, actually.

First stop was the hotel, where the nice lady hunted around a bit before presenting me with my fancy-pants shirt. The it was east to the other end of town where Consumers Beverages, in all its American convenience store-style glory, awaited.

There's a chain of these stores all over western New York, with the heaviest concentration in Buffalo. They have a surprisingly wide selection of brews, including hard to find collaborations and one-offs from some of the big players in the American craft beer industry. The company has clearly established strong connections with many of them, notably Stone Brewery of San Diego, aka The Brewery That Can Do No Wrong.

I haven't had a Stone brew yet that wasn't excellent - I'm looking at five different Stone IPAs on my beer bottle shrine (which now takes up space on two bookshelves and one end table) as I write this - and today's haul would only add to Stone's reputation.

There was the 18th Anniversary IPA, which I was pretty excited about; and there was Collective Distortion IPA, a collaborative creation that Don had enjoyed and raved about. There was also Unapologetic IPA (bingo!), an 8.8 per cent Double IPA that was the best beer by far from the little mini-vacay I took with my son to Rochester and Niagara Falls a couple of months before. Stone IPA, the brewery's flagship beer, was there. So was Ruination, Stone's iconic Double IPA and the beer that sends Don into a beergasm rapture at its very mention. Bought two of those. And one RuinTen, billed as Ruination on steroids, just to cover all my bases.

But man cannot live on Stone alone, and I filled out my shopping cart with a few other ales, including a Triple IPA called The Kind from Three Heads Brewery in Rochester. I had Don and Cat in mind for this one, as they had yet to lose their Tripe IPA virginity, though I was hoping Marie, who suffers from working with Don at The Beer Store (and whose husband Ernie supplied the glorious meat for the festivities), would also give it a try.

See, when I had my first IIIPA (a 12 per cent ABV satanic brew called Devil Dancer from Founders Brewery), my gloating was met with shrugs or "what the hell is he talking about" from my two experienced IPA drinking friends. Marie, however, had the correct response; the one I was clearly looking for: "I'm jealous," is what she said.

Triple IPA for you Marie.

Eighty bucks (Cdn) later I'm on my way back to the border, after first deciding on a smuggling strategy (declare the two Ruinations to give the illusion of honesty, and hide the rest) and then figuring out where to stash my prizes.

Turned out it wasn't difficult. I had a trunk full of boxes filled with junk and some old milk cartons with tools in them. A little rearranging of said items with the beer at the bottom; a few hidden under the seat and presto! we have a trunk that no self-respecting border dude is going to want to check.

So I get to the border and, of course, he checked. "Anything to declare sir?" Well yes, I respond, hoping he wouldn't catch the beads of sweat running down from my brow. "I have the two Ruination IPAs here. Party favours," I added helpfully.

"Uh huh," he said. "Open your trunk please."

There's nothing I can do now, save for warning him that the spring on my trunk is broken and to close it "carefully." He obliges (after rooting around a bit) and sends me on my way, without bothering to charge me duty on the two beers I did declare.

See? Honesty does pay off.

I was going to make one more stop - at my father-in-law's place in Hamilton - before I got fully immersed in this awesome beer in Burlington. But I got thirsty, so I didn't, and shortly after two I pulled into Don's parking lot, showed him our booty, and we got into it.

Kenza Fourati made an appearance at DB&G

Perhaps I should have had a nap first. Maybe I should have avoided all those Double IPAs. I could have considered pacing myself as well. But I did none of those things.

I started with Smashbomb Atomic. Two of them, actually. Then it was Bolshevik Bastard, the 8.6 per cent Imperial Stout from Nickel Brook, which was all about roasted coffee, bitter chocolate and strong licorice. Then Don brought out the Pissed Off Pete, because we both were hoping there would be one pumpkin beer that didn't suck. This one, a porter that is also from Donny's hometown Nickel Brook Brewery, was the best pumpkin beer I tried this year. Which isn't saying much. It had the usual aroma of pumpkin spices - cinnamon, nutmeg, all spice, ginger and cloves - but it wasn't cloying like the others. Instead, there was a nice clean finish.

There was a brief distraction from Kate Upton and Kenza Fourati when a much read copy of Sports Illustrated's 2011 Swimsuit Edition made an appearance on the patio before we opened the bottle of Unapologetic IPA, a collaborative effort of Stone Brewery and their California friends - Beechwood and Heretic breweries - that has reached the top of the pops among IPAs for me.

This is a brew that I had once before and would buy a thousand times again if I could. The first time I got all pine and sweet malts with the citrus, but this time the malts lingered only for balance as my senses were overloaded by a super mango and grapefruit hop bomb. Mitch Steele, Stone's genius brewmaster, promised the beer would be "intense and totally hop forward," and he and his co-conspirators, who used some experimental hops and even some unusual (for an IPA) malts in the making of this beer, make no apologies for that fact. Which is good, because neither does the beer.

By the time we got to the bottom of that bottle the first stragglers were showing up and I was already half in the bag, and exhausted from all my criminal activities. It had already been a long day. I remember drinking Headstock and Fire in the Rye, and I remember wolfing down a few sausages, with both the sausages and the buns being made that morning by Ernie himself.

I mostly draw a blank after that. My notepad had the words Otter Creek/ Lawson on it, which implies I drank this magic elixir, a collaborative effort between two Vermont breweries that scored 100 on Rate Beer and had been praised to the mountaintop by Don, who had saved two for Cat and I to enjoy.

And I have no memories of drinking it. This travesty is actually the only thing I regret about the day.

But, I am told by a somewhat reliable source that I liked it, though my notes were not in my handwriting. But our host said I thoroughly enjoyed the brew.

Indeed you did!! Maybe I wrote it because you were having trouble writing.
"Did Cat like it as well?"
You both loved it. I'll help you out. Tropical and dark fruits on the nose... large dose of pine plus spice and hops on the tongue
"Did I say that?
You thought maybe some plum on the nose. I went with the catch-all dark fruits. That's what we agreed on.

So there you have it. I'm glad to see that beer did not go to waste but I still wish I remembered drinking it.

I didn't last long after that and after a short snoring spell in my chair on the patio, I found my way upstairs for the wee nap, just as the party was getting into full swing.

Next time I'm in for the long haul. I promised myself the next morning as I pocketed the parking ticket (again!) and unwrapped the shrink wrap from my car (thanks Cat and Marie!). And I won't take a month to write about it.

Racing 'round the world in 108 days

I had all but given up hope that the three Canadian IPAs I mailed to my buddy Steve in New Zealand would ever arrive.

Perhaps they fell off the sea turtle's back on the long sea voyage or, more likely, they were confiscated by an over zealous customs agent somewhere between Vancouver and Wellington.

It being illegal to ship beer without a proper permit and all.

And yet, there was Steve, 14,178 kilometres away (as the crow flies), crowing to the collective Musketeers that he had finally received his prize.

One-hundred and eight days later. That's 108 days to ship a two-pound package from Oshawa, Ontario to Wellington, New Zealand.

Wow.

I don't even remember what the original bet was for - something about the Leafs not making the playoffs I imagine, as Steve is a notorious Leaf hater and Leaf fan baiter. It's probably in this blog Your beer is on its way from July 20, which I wrote three days after mailing two Red Racers (Central City, Surrey, B.C.) and one Headstock (Nickel Brook, Burlington).

The Headstock made the delivery cut just because it's awesome, and I remember Steve wanting Red Racer because Central City Brewery was founded by an old bartending pal, Gary Lohin. But Steve was long gone from Vancouver to the land down under before the brewery got off the ground so he never got a chance to enjoy the fruits of Lohin's labour.

Until now.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm happy as a clam that my pal finally got his beer and my $27 outlay (plus $7.85 for the beer and a few bucks for the bubble wrap) did not go for nought.

But 108 days? Nearly five months? 

Not exactly impressive delivery numbers.

Like I said, I had given up hope on the beer ever arriving and Steve probably was beginning to doubt I ever sent them. So I was shocked when I saw these pics on my Facebook feed this morning. Shocked but very happy.

Steve seemed to be a bit less surprised, however.

"It occurred to me after I was enjoying the Red Racer that the boat ride to get it here had to start with a land-roving mission to get from Oshawa to one of the two coasts. I keep forgetting you guys don't live on an ocean," he said, the beery drool running down his cheek, likely making him forgetful after all these years about the geography of his home province. "So then it was likely via a truck or train ... or mule wagon. THEN a slow boat that likely hit China on the way."

"It's that slow boat that gets you every time."

Perhaps Steve. But that's still no excuse for 108 days at sea.

I expect Steve to benefit the most by this successful (finally) shipping exercise as the other Musketeers have been galvanized into action on sending our Kiwi cousin a larger, more comprehensive beer care package, one that is more representative of the wonderful craft beers we have in Ontario.

I told them it would be very expensive. They said Steve (and our New Zealand friend Neil Miller - the nation's reigning Beer Writer of the Year - who would also benefit from the delivery) was worth it.

I guess.

Not only that, but they're actually talking about sending them via an upgraded postal package. Preferably one that doesn't include sea turtles or mule wagon rides.

I tell you what was worth it: seeing this picture. Now that's what I'm talking about!

Enjoy your Canadian IPAs, Steve. Plenty more where they come from.

I shout about stouts, but pumpkin ale gets a fail

I love fall.

The colours, the cool nights, my birthday - they all signify change and they all help to make autumn my favourite season.

Except when it comes to beer. Beer has its seasons too, and in the world of beer, fall means pumpkin and pumpkin ales are among the vilest creations to come from a brewmaster's mash tun.

I've tried the Pumpkin Ale from Great Lakes - which churns out winners every other season - I've tried Black Creek Pumpkin Ale - a gift from the lovely and talented Adrianne for watching her awesome kids - and I've sampled several others as well, with the experiences so traumatic I can't even remember the name of the brews.

Something-Something Pumpkin Ale, I imagine.

All these beers left me wondering why brewers continue to ruin perfectly good beer by adding pumpkin pie spices to it.(FYI - I love pumpkin pie.)

The answer to that question is because many people - their taste buds ruined by years of drinking commercial crap perhaps - like the stuff. Or maybe they just expect pumpkin beers each October and buy it by the case when it comes in, taste be damned.

But I do know there are some 40 pumpkin beers rated 95 (of 100) or better on Rate Beer so somebody is producing quality pumpkin beers. I just haven't had any yet.

But despite my aversion to the style (and I'm not the only Musketeer with this problem) there will be two more Pumpkin beers on hand at the Donny's Bar & Grill session tomorrow in Burlington. My last two (I hope) of the season. Jumping Jack India Pumpkin Ale from Tree Brewing in B.C. and Pissed Off Pete Pumpkin Porter from Nickel Brook.

Despite the Jumping Jack beer being an IPA of a sort, I'm not thinking positive thoughts over this one. I am slightly more optimistic, however, about the Pumpkin Porter. I figure the pumpkin spices will go better with a porter, which is a sweet dessert-style beer.

We shall see tomorrow, but I am reminded of the words of Rob Leonard, the owner of New England Brewing in Connecticut, when asked about pumpkin beers. "If pumpkins could make a sound they would offend all five of my senses."

While I'm on the subject of beer styles that made me duck for cover, I must confess that I have been all wrong about stouts.

I used to fear them; all dark and evil looking, with aromas of coffee and chocolate and licorice and other dark and scary things. "You'll come around Glenn," said one Musketeer. "Just give it time," said another. But still I held back, afraid to go over to the dark side.

About a month ago I decided to give stouts another go. On the advice of pal Don ("I absolutely, positively guarantee you will like it," is what he said), I started with a big one: Wellington Imperial Russian Stout out of Guelph, a big, 8 per cent stout that was all dark chocolate, dark fruits, roasted coffee, toasted malts and awesomeness. Why the hell did I wait so long?

Next up was the Stone Coffee Milk Stout from California, a 4.2 per cent session stout. Lots of coffee on the nose for this one and hints of chocolate (milk chocolate, natch). A really smooth beer.

I followed that up with Lost Coast 8 Ball Stout, a 5.8 per cent beer also from California. Black as treacle with a creamy head, this beer brought lots of roasted coffee and bitter chocolate (my fave) to the table. Then more coffee, a little nuttiness and rich caramel malts to finish. Outstanding!

Closer to home, I tried the Sleepy Time Imperial Stout from Beau's All Natural, which uses Belgian yeast before ageing the beer in oak staves. I got chocolate, licorice and black coffee, with some banana bread as well as hints of vanilla. Very smooth for an 8 per cent beer.

Montreal's dark side

I enjoyed Sawdust City's Skinny Dipping Stout on a perfect sunny afternoon on the patio at Buster Rhino's in Oshawa recently, and I was impressed. Dark chocolate and roasted coffee - the perfect fall sipping stout. Who knew?

Finally I got to St. Ambroise Oatmeal Stout, one of the highest rated beers in Canada. It poured black, like a Montreal back street after midnight and smelled of dark roasted coffee and bittersweet chocolate. It tasted all that too, with some spiciness as well.

Well worth the score.

All I can say is why didn't I try these sooner? At least now I understand why my friends were gushing over Aphrodisiaque, the glorious stout from Montreal's famed Dieu du Ciel Brewery when we visited C'est What in downtown Toronto in the spring. Next time I'll say yes.

                                                                              *

Wednesday was my birthday and it was certainly one I will never forget. We've all read and watched many hours of coverage on the tragic shootings that took place in our nation's capital, which left one soldier, Corporal Nathan Cirillo, dead and a country in mourning over his death and over our loss of innocence.

As I write this thousands of people are lining the highway overpasses along the Highway of Heroes as Corporal Cirillo's procession makes its way west towards his hometown of Hamilton; a symbol of the reverence we hold towards those who have died protecting our way of life.

With so much written about the events in Ottawa on Wednesday I will mention just one small thing that resonated with me: the playing of Oh Canada before the Pittsburgh Penguin-Philadelphia Flyers NHL game Thursday night.

That the anthem was played that night did not surprise me: the Penguins are a classy organization and I expected no less. But to see so many Americans singing along to our anthem gave me chills, I tell you.

Thank you America. Thank you. We noticed.

Butter tarts and the IPA

that broke his brain

Sometimes the best part of any journey is found not at the destination but in the treasures found along the way. Or in this case, the one's found on the way back.


Northumberland Hills Brewery is a brand new brew house in Cobourg, just a 40-minute drive - 35 minutes if I'm in a hurry - to the east. I used to work in Cobourg a quarter-century ago while serving as the Sports Editor of the neighbouring Port Hope newspaper, so I'm familiar with the area, one of my favourites east of the GTA. And when I heard last month the new guys had an IPA, I just had to go.

Hoppy Go Lucky it's called, and it wasn't bad, as I did go home with a couple of bottles. But it's no IPA and brewmaster Rick Bailey admitted as much about his 5 per cent beer, calling it "more of a pale ale."

It' a blend of Cascade and Saaz hops - which is unusual right off the top - and it provided muted hops with some sweet bready malts on the tongue. Decent, but I'm waiting for the upcoming release of its Moonstone IPA - this is homegrown Cascade hops (from Rick's back yard) mixed with Galaxy - before making a return trip.

Speaking of return trips, I made mine via the connecting road to Port Hope and along the way I spotted a roadside shop called Betty's Pies and Tarts. Tarts? Butter tarts? I had to stop in.

So I did, making a U-turn to get there while the rain, a steady drizzle when I left and now a veritable monsoon, soaked me to the skin on the 15 foot run to the door.

Betty's Pies & Tarts - billed as the "best butter tarts in the Kawarthas - was worth every drop of rain. I ended up buying a six pack, with four different kinds of butter tarts, a raspberry tart and the prize of the pack, a peanut butter and jam tart.

Nectar of the Gods. It was that good. And the tart judges whoever and wherever they are, agreed as the tart qualified for the prestigious Royal Agricultural Winter Fair this November.

Sounds like a good excuse to go next month. They have a wine competition as well, and with several pop-up restaurants and pubs happening during the week-long event, they'll probably have a few craft beers as well.

As to the overpowering smell of horse, cow and pig shit; you'll get used to it.

                                                                              *

When I read Chris Staten's review in DRAFT Magazine of a new beer from San Diego's legendary Stone Brewing, I felt weak in the knees. The beer, Stone 18th Anniversary IPA, is packed with tropical fruity flavours. So much so, in fact, that the writer - the magazine's Beer Editor - started questioned the future of IPAs, his own mortality; that sort of thing.


You can read the link here (The End of IPAs As We Know It) and suffice to say, it was also the IPA that broke his brain, so I must try it. The good news is I'm heading to a store across the border which traditionally carries many of Stone's offerings this weekend. Here's hoping.

The beer made me think of a few others on my bucket list (if you count 20 as a few), starting with another San Diego beer: Green Flash Green Bullet, a Triple IPA that doesn't fit the usual mold of super boozy brews. At 10.1 per cent ABV and 100-plus IBUs, that's asking a lot, but this new release promises plenty of big citrus hops, a solid bready malt backbone while being "impressively" non-boozy. Must have.

Also from Stone: Enjoy By IPA, which includes the best-before date in the beer's name while being totally awesome. But it is from Stone Brewing. And staying in San Diego, I need to enjoy Grapefruit Sculpin from Ballast Point, which is their wonderful Sculpin brewed with grapefruit rind for "extra" citrus power.

Some of the usual suspects on anyone's wish list include Pliny the Elder and its rare Triple IPA nephew, Pliny the Younger from Russian River, as well as the IPA that started it all for brewmaster Vinnie Cilurzo, Blind Pig. The world famous Heady Topper from The Alchemist is here and while we're in Vermont, damn near anything from Hill Farmstead (but I'll go with Abner (IIPA) and Susan (IPA).

There is also Hopslam from Bell Brewery in Michigan, and two brews from Three Floyds in Indiana: Dreadnought IIPA and one of the world's best pale ales, Zombie Dust. If you can call a 6.2 per cent ale 'just' a pale ale.

Internationally, I'm dying to get my hands on Punk IPA, the Brew Dog beer from Fraserburgh, Scotland. Only my father's home town. There is also Nogne IPA from Norway (yes, they make great IPAs in Scandinavia) and a trio of beers from New Zealand:  Hop Zombie from Epic; Hopwired from 8Wired; and Pernicious Weed from Garage Project, just to name three.

I haven't forgotten Canadian IPAs: I'm just doing a better job of whittling down the list.

There is Yakima IPA from Le Castor Brewery in Quebec (Canada's highest rated IPA), Sartori Harvest from Victoria's excellent Driftwood Brewery, and Humulous Ludicrous, a IIPA from Winnipeg's Half Pints Brewery.

And I would be remiss if I didn't add Cockpuncher, the Imperial IPA from Toronto's Indie Ale House. I've has their Instigator IPA - fantastic - but not Cockpuncher. My 12 year-old son, who has heard many of the crazy-ass names for the beers I've tried, is convinced Cockpuncher is the craziest.

Reason enough to drink to that.

                                                                            *

There’s an apartment building on Oshawa’s west side with a second-floor balcony that’s just a little bit lower – okay, a lot lower – than your average second-floor balcony. I know how low because I walked into it about a dozen years ago, and ever since then I have been very wary of its presence each time I visit.

I was there on delivery Friday night and I steered a wide berth around the concrete structure as I walked from the parking lot to the front door. That’s when things got ugly. There was no answer from the buzzer and I realized I left my phone in the car so I had to go back to retrieve it. On my return, with my head down and my attention focused on dialing the customer’s phone number, I walked straight into the balcony.

The impact cracked the top of my head so hard I went down on the grass like I was shot and I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a second. I lay on the grass for what seemed like an eternity – it was probably three or four seconds – before I thought someone might think I was dead. So I got up, my head throbbing badly and my legs wobbling slightly, to hear a guy across the street yelling, “Dude! Are you all right?”

The customer, who was at the front door by this point, was concerned at first and then, seeing I was alive, amused. So was my ex-wife when I told her this story an hour or so later, a bag of ice still melting on my coconut, when she called to see when I was picking up Jake. “Didn’t you do that before? she asked, trying hard to suppress the giggles.

“Yes,” I answered. “Same balcony, too.”

This time Christian laughed out loud.

Oshawa - A 2014 Political Primer

Our politicians are not hooked on crack - as far as I know - but, with kidnappings at gunpoint, police take-downs on the council floor and more lawsuits than there are new models planned for the GM assembly lines, there's never a dull moment in Oshawa politics.

That's what make this municipal election so much fun. And thanks to the elimination of the ward system and the introduction of elections for the Durham Region Chairman, there are 13 - yes, thirteen - different 'X's I can mark on October 27.

What other election offers that kind of choice? What other election offers that much fun?

The race for the Mayor's seat offers the most intrigue (though it is but one 'X' of 13) as nine candidates - a rogues list of kooks, shit disturbers, hard-core radicals (and a sensible one) and an ex-Mayor - try to unseat the incumbent, John Henry.

This tempest has been brewing for most of Henry's four year term, as a group of local activists has taken to attending council meetings en masse to voice their displeasure over the decisions made by the Mayor and his allies (affectionately known as the Bloc of Eight), with their presence described as being a cross between a thorn in his side and a hive of hornets down his pants.

A key issue of contention has been the controversial purchase of a former call centre on Wentworth Street for a new works depot for the City, a deal that ultimately led to the cops-in-the-council-chambers take-down last year.

See, the council watchdogs thought the City paid too much for the property and cried foul, a stand supported by Ron Foster, Oshawa's then-auditor-general. Foster released a damning report on the purchase, which noted among other things that City staff tried to sabotage his investigation.

Council then hired George Rust-D'Eye, a noted municipal lawyer who once represented Toronto Mayor Rob Ford (Coincidence? Not with Toronto and Oshawa councils seemingly Separated at Birth) to prepare another report, which naturally concluded Oshawa did not, in fact, overpay for the property. Oh, and perhaps we can eliminate the auditor-general position while we're here.

Which is what the Gang of 8, by a vote of 8-3, did. And then the shit hit the fan. When decorum was returned Bill Steele, in handcuffs and with blood trickling down his nose after being wrestled to the ground by a security guard and two undercover cops,  was arrested and charged with assault. Another activist, Dan Hammond, was also charged.

Charges against the two were later dropped. The security guards were subsequently charged with assault as well and those charges also disappeared.

The video of the event, naturally, went viral.

Bill Steele

Steele is now running for Local Councillor while Hammond is taking a shot at the Mayor's seat. Hammond is also defending himself from criminal harassment charges involving Councillor Roger Bouma, a Bloc of Eight member who is not seeking re-election. Hammond's personalized licence plates - they read NOBOUMA - were a regular sighting around town until Service Ontario cancelled them.

And Foster is threatening to sue the City unless his job is restored.

Other council watchdogs are also in the race for Mayor. There's Lou DeVouna, who has been embroiled in a legal dispute with the City since 2011; and there is perennial contender Bill Longworth, who this campaign decided to distance himself from his fellow activists by ignoring issues like corruption and the economy to concentrate on a single subject: the return of the ward system.

Joe Ingino is running as well. Joe runs a local newspaper (alleged) called the Central (which I interviewed for once in the mid-90s. Our session was brief.) and has alienated an entire generation of social media users because HE ALWAYS TYPES IN CAPITAL LETTERS LIKE HE'S SHOUTING.

But there is one Council contrarian who has risen above the fringe level of her fellow agitators: Rosemary McConkey, the Sensible Radical, who has campaigned against rampant development up in Columbus for years before switching her attention to Henry and Oshawa Council in 2010.

But even McConkey, who calls herself an Accidental Activist, has legal issues to deal with. She has been ordered to pay $10,000 in court costs to real estate giant RioCan (full disclosure: the company I work for would cease to exist if not for RioCan contracts, making the developer - Canada's largest - my defacto boss) but her campaign had promise, at least until John Gray entered the race.

Gray, who has been doing some fear mongering lately as to the future of General Motors in the city, was a two-term Mayor who was defeated by Henry in 2010.

Gray made his biggest splash in office when he initiated a comedic feud with Stephen Colbert - over hockey of course - in 2007. The trash talking put Oshawa in the spotlight for a while and culminated in a bet over a junior hockey game between the Oshawa Generals and Colbert's beloved (kinda) Saginaw (Mich.) Spirit.

The Gens lost the game, Gray lost the bet and March 20 (Gray's birthday) was declared Stephen Colbert Day in Oshawa, an event held at the General Motors Centre that was attended by some 3,000 people, including Don Cherry.

Stephen Colbert

(Cherry, for his part, called Colbert a "leftie pinko" who, if he played hockey, would probably wear a visor. But I digress.)

Chris Topple, who ran provincially for the Liberals in 1999 and 2003, and Don Woermke have also thrown their hats into the ring for the Mayor's race.

And that's just one of the 13 delicious choices I can make on October 27. With seven representatives on Durham Regional Council, I have a lot of options there as well. Some, like Bouma, have had enough of the circus and are going back to private life. Other Bloc Eight members, like Amy England (who made headlines for her stand in favour of breastfeeding) and former Mayor Nancy Diamond, are sticking around.

Diamond, who was sitting in the big chair when I arrived in the county in 1992 (her 12-year term made her the city's longest-serving mayor), is taking another shot as a Regional Councillor.

Tito-Dante Marimpietri, one of the councillors on the other side of the majority voting bloc, is also looking to grab one of seven regional spots again. I don't know Marimpietri, who is in a legal battle of his own, having been ordered to pay $9,500 in court costs to City Solicitor David Potts, the first salvo in a $2 million lawsuit filed against Potts (which is related to a $1 million suit brought against the City by former real estate manager Chris Harper), but he's a childhood friend of my pal Santo so he gets my consideration at least.

There's some new blood as well, such as local television personality and public speaker Dan Carter, who I believe will bring a civil and circus-free approach to council.

That would be a breath of fresh air.

There are also three Local Councillor spots available, with Bruce Wood hoping a return to council will mean his vote will mean more than just the usual 8 to 3 losing proposition, and a few promising fresh faces, such as Stuart Smith

There is one name notably missing from the ballot, however, and that's Robert Lutczyk, a former councillor now residing in Lindsay's super jail facing a shopping list of charges stemming from an incident from two years ago.

Always a bit off the wall - he once advocated caning as a form of punishment for inmates and called for Oshawa to add the Turks and Caicos Islands in the Caribbean to its urban boundaries - Lutczyk snapped two Octobers ago, (allegedly) abducting Potts, Oshawa's in-house lawyer, and taking him to a warehouse in south Whitby. Barricaded inside with a cache of weapons and explosives (allegedly), the standoff lasted more than 24 hours before Lutcyzk finally gave himself up.

Robert Lutczyk in better days

The case has come before the courts several times since, with Lutczyk, armed each time with volumes of legal briefs, electing to defend himself. He never found the time, however, to update his drivers licence, which is the reason the City gave when they denied his last minute application to run for council.

From jail.

It's too bad, really, because that would have been too awesome.

I've also got the Regional Chairman post to vote for, with incumbent Roger Anderson (who I've also known since I arrived in Durham 22 years ago) squaring off against a handful of political neophytes.

There's a school trustee I can cast my vote for too, though with my tax dollars going into the public school board and my last school-age child in Catholic school, there's not much point in casting a ballot.

I may anyway.

It's the Mayor's race that has piqued my interest, however, and handicapping it has proven interesting. It appears to be a two-horse race between the two Johns - Henry,  who Jake and I met in rural Columbus a year or so ago - an incident now known as The Day Jake Told the Mayor he was Missing a 'D' from his Last Name - and Gray, with McConkey emerging as the wild card.

I'm torn at the moment in deciding between Gray and McConkey for my vote, with Henry on the the outs because of the spelling of his name.

As the J Man said last year, the Mayor is missing a 'D.' And as every sports fan knows, you can't win without the D.

                                                        *

As this is a beer blog I thought I should finish by talking about a few beers. I may not drink before I vote on October 27, but I'll certainly drink after.

I was going to write one more story from the mini vacay Jake and I took to Rochester and Niagara Falls - our visit to the Strong Museum's vintage games exhibit, to be exact, when I took the boy to school in pinball, Galaga, Pac-Man and table top hockey - but I decided not to mention it and talk about beer instead.

Dogfish Head 75 Minute IPA from Delaware and Epic Pale Ale from Auckland, New Zealand. Two outstanding ales.

The 75 Minute IPA is a 7.5 % ABV blend of the brewery's 60 Minute IPA and 90 Minute IIPA; cask conditioned and post-hopped. There's lots of citrus and pine with some tropical fruit and sweet malts. Beautifully balanced with a decent bitter finish. I would expect no less from this brewery.

Epic's Pale Ale was even better, which is a pretty good trick for a 5.4 per cent beer. Fifteen different hops were used during the brewing process and the result is a beer with plenty of 'wow' factor. There's citrus and tropical fruit - passion fruit, maybe? - along with some pine and floral notes. There's a peppery spiciness as well, making this beer quite different from anything I've had before, and quite tasty. A world class pale ale.

Cheers! (And don't forget to vote October 27!)