#Beersaints, real saints and my best B.C. bud

When I sent my pal Trevor, now settled in Langley, B.C. and starved for Ontario craft beer, a shoe box of Octopus Wants to Fight IPA, he promised to send me some of Vancouver's finest craft ales in return, further promising that at least one would be 'Glenncore.'

There was more than one, I can tell you that. Most of 'em were stellar, with at least three already category front runners. That's pretty Glenncore (a term Trevor coined, meaning a beer I was guaranteed to love), if you ask me.

He cheated, though. Where I spared no expense on postage and fancy wrapping paper, he waited until his sainted mother Debra arrived from Bowmanville (to do his laundry and make him cookies, I'm sure) so he could send my care package home with her.

He more than made up for that breach in protocol by going overboard on my box of fun. Eight beers in total from four different Greater Vancouver breweries, with half coming from Trevor's Russell Brewing of Surrey, where he reprises the role he once had with Manantler Brewing as the World's Sexiest Cellarman.

First, though, I had to pick up my beer in suburban Bowmanville from Trevor's saintly mom, who lives precariously between Camp 30, the WWII POW camp, and Darlington Nuclear plant.

I can vouch that Debra is, indeed, a saint. She gave me beer.

B.C. beer from my B.C. bud

I chose Punch Bowl, a 6.5 per cent sweet-as-candy IPA from Russell that was brewed with Citra, Mosaic and Amarillo (three of my favourite hops), to start things off, mainly because it was the only beer I had heard of from Russell.

I knew they were two-time World Cup of Beer medalists, so they must have been doing something right.

Punch Bowl delivered, with tropical fruit, pine and rich malts , as well as that aforementioned sweetness.

I found that sweetness in the next IPA I tried as well. (Must be a B.C. thing.) Four Winds IPA was piney, with some citrus and earthy malts; a little bit of sweetness and dankness too.

The first (of two) cans of Hop Therapy, a 4.5 per cent India Session Ale that Trevor declared as Glenncore almost from his first day on the job, was up next and this beer delivered on everything he said.

There was a bit of that B.C. sweetness in the aroma but it all came together in a delicious way, with tropical fruit, honey and peach jam making this beer resiny, sticky and way more flavourful than 4.5 per cent alcohol beers should be.

Definitely Glenncore, and the early leader for my Session IPA-of-the-Year. An awesome beer.

The next beer out of the hat was White Rabbit (you see what I did there?), a hoppy Hefeweizen from Russell that immediately became my favourite Hefeweizen ever. Granted, it is a short list, but I have had a few good ones and this is the best of the best.

There was lemon and spices on the nose with a real hop-forward taste, with banana, more spices and a little citrus. Very nice.

Next up was Nocturnum, a Dark IPA from Strange Fellows Brewing (East Vancouver) that got knocked around on Rate Beer: a 55 overall score with just 21 points for 'style.' But Rate Beer reviewers can be a fickle lot and as Trevor is a big Black IPA fan I was hopeful this one would measure up.

No worries. It was as tasty as dark sunshine on a rainy west coast day, with mandarin orange, a bit of pine and toasty notes in the aroma. The dark side came out next with roasty goodness, a touch of chocolate and tropical fruit, with a dry finish.

Hop Therapy India Session Ale
from Russell Brewing.
Most definitely 'Glenncore.'

Sit and Stay, a 3.9 per cent India Session Belgian Ale - possibly my first stab at this style - followed Nocturnum, and this beer was, what's that fancy Rate Beer reviewing adjective? Oh yeah. Yummy.

It had a gorgeous burnt orange pour with a ton of bright citrus on the nose. More citrus and spices on the tongue. Delicious.

The next afternoon was all about the last can of Hop Therapy - most definitely Glenncore - before I enjoyed the last beer in the #beersaint stash: Wee Angry Scotch Ale from Russell.

Like White Rabbit, this beer is part of the brewery's small batch Brewmaster Series. My Scottish heritage notwithstanding, Scotch Ales are not normally in my wheelhouse, but this one went a long way to changing my perspective on the style.

There was an aroma of aged fruit and caramel malts and the ale was smooth and balanced, with a Stout-like finish.

My dearly departed and very saintly Nana would have approved.

Thank you Trevor. Let me know when your saintly mom visits you next. I'll hook you up.
\

Paul (who will always be) The Beerguy

My beer pal Paul did that #beersaint thing again, and all I had to give him in return was a bag of coffee I commandeered from my son's fridge.

I couldn't even buy him a beer at our meeting spot at Buster Rhino's as he was already perched on his bar stool, glass of beer in hand, when I arrived.

On time, I might add.

Paul had called me the day before, saying he wanted my opinion on a few microbrews he had picked up on his travels and could we hook up before work the next day?

Absolutely, said I, though there was nothing in my fridge he hadn't tried before that I could bring as a trade.


Ergo the coffee. How was I supposed to know he drink much coffee?

I sincerely hope his wife liked it.

So we enjoyed a half-pint of something tasty and he sent me on my way with three bombers of local craft goodness.  There was Anniversary #4, a Saison from the good folks at Left Field and Rorschach IPA from a brand new brewery in Toronto's east end - located only a few minutes from Left Field, in fact.

The third bottle was Fresh Roast Coffee Porter (five per cent ABV) from Falcon Brewery in neighbouring Ajax and as Brewmaster Dave is a regular at Buster's I figured I'd have a go at that one first.

Besides, I'd enjoyed it once before on tap at the bar, so it should be an easy review.

Coffee and roasted malt flavours but nothing overpowering. Smooth and very drinkable.

The Anniversary #4 was a nice treat, especially as I don't get a lot of Saisons in my glass most days.

Soft, tart citrus up front. The taste is crisp, with lemon and spices prominent. As tasty as a warm summer's eve spent on the back porch with family.

The final beer in Paul's #beersaint package turned out to be the best of the lot. Rorschach IPA made me see the psychiatrist's ink blot and think of nothing but deliciousness.

Fantastic aroma of tropical fruit and the tropical citrus theme continued in the taste, with a satisfying bitterness.

I am definitely going to have to make a pilgrimage to Toronto's east end. With a stop in Ajax on the way.

Thanks Paul!

Homebrew beauty (And Unicorns)

I stopped in at my friend Josh's place the other night after work to watch the end of the Leafs game. My son Matt was there too so bonus for me.

I have written of Josh before and craft beer's newest convert had a surprise waiting for me in the apartment he shares with his mother, Paula: Home brew.

Josh has been learning a few tricks of home brewing from his friends Linda and John and it was their February Sunshine English Pale Ale that I would be enjoying on this evening.

But first a Canuck Pale Ale from Great Lakes, the hockey game (which would end in a heart-breaking overtime loss for my beloved Toronto Maple Leafs), and a look-around of the apartment, which I couldn't help notice was covered with unicorns.

There were stuffed unicorns, unicorn figurines and pictures of unicorns on every wall. There were more unicorns than I wanted to count.

"Looks like your Mom likes unicorns," I say to Josh cleverly. "Dude," he replied, "you have no idea."

At that moment Paula - who I didn't know was home - comes 'hopping' into the room, riding a unicorn on a stick.

I think I'm getting it now, Josh.

After we all had a good giggle I got down to tasting Linda and John's homebrew, which was brewed on a sunny and warm (16 degrees!) day in February, hence the February Sunshine name.

Made from a recipe from my pal Matt at Brewer's Pantry and brewed with Linda's "special touch," February Sunshine delivered soft, fruity hops balanced with soft, bready malts and an almost buttery texture.

So very, very drinkable.

I hear there's an IPA and an APA coming. I also hear I've been promised a bottle or two.

My life just got a little bit better.

Cheers!

Remembering Budgie Bill

For the record - and I cannot stress this enough - I did not kill Bill.

I believe Bill's little heart just gave out, but at least she was comfortable and warm(ish) when she breathed her last. I'll take some comfort in that.

I didn't know Bill long, but she left quite an impression on me. This, then, is Bill's story, but it is also Rachel's story as well.

After all, if anybody killed Bill, it was her, seeing how poor Bill was being placed in a cage at Rachel's place when she expired.

Bill, not Rachel.

Anyway, as I would discover (via a Facebook thread) after I had already written much of this story, Bill left a much bigger impression on Rachel than she did on me.

But I saw her first.

We were doing some spring landscaping work near our Ajax shop when I spotted something unusual out of the corner of my eye. I looked up from my pruning and when the sound of my hedge trimmer ebbed to an echo I noticed two birds crawling up the wall of the nearby Value Village storefront.

Bill, enjoying a ride back
to the shop in her final hours

And one of them was green.

Wait, what? There are no green birds native to Ontario; at least not any as bright as this one. So I left my tool in the dirt and went in for a closer look.

It was a Budgie. A small tropical parrot native to Australia that is popular with bird owners (friendly, easy to care for and damn cute), most notably my sainted Nana, who had a Budgerigar named Jokie when I was a child.

Budgies are also quite talented as mimics, with one such bird, a fellow named Puck, holding the world record for the largest vocabulary of any bird at 1,728 words. With a name like Puck, I'm sure most of the words were R-rated, but I digress.

Being tropical and all, Bill was not equipped to survive near freezing temperatures - it was just plus-two on this morning - and wouldn't likely have lasted the afternoon.

She was staying close to the wall in an effort to stay out of the wind and I made one attempt to catch her without any idea what I was going to do if I was successful.

I had her in my hands briefly before the wee lass bit me on the finger. I decided I would try again before we left the site.

It was about an hour later when I did a final drive-by to assess how pretty our work was (so pretty) and to see how Bill was doing.

She clearly had had enough and had decided to pack it in. Goodbye, cruel world, she must have chirped before choosing to sit in the middle of the runway near the front doors of Value Village.

Rachel, my crew member and my pal, hopped out quicker than you could say crikey, mate and had Bill cradled in her hands before I could put the truck in park.

Rachel looking mysteriously guilty.
Did you kill Bill?

A bit of a Bird Whisperer, our Rachel.

So we wheeled around to the nearby Soft Moc shoe store to get a shoe box (with comfy stuffing) and headed back to the shop to clock out. I assumed Rachel's intent was to keep the bird, as she muttered something about her boyfriend not loving the idea, but as I would find out later via a Facebook thread she started, she had other, more altruistic plans.

But before she outlined her idea of finding Bill's rightful owner the tiny creature died in her box, whilst Rachel was preparing a cage for her.

Very sad, though that didn't stop her friends (okay, me, though I shamelessly stole the 'Kill Bill' meme from my pal Don, who misunderstood Rachel's post and thought I killed the bird) from having some fun on social media.

That's also when we discovered Bill was a girl, as we had been under the assumption Bill was a boy. Patriarchal, perhaps, but I went that route because I assumed the female House Sparrow climbing the wall with our Budgie was enamoured with Bill's resplendent plumage. More likely the sparrow was warning Bill to stay the hell away from her husband watching from a distance.

Anyway, one of Rachel's friends, a far greater bird expert than either of us, declared Bill to be female because of the colouration around her cere, the beak hole that surrounds her nostril. I will take your word on that, Lisa-Lee.

Wild Budgie eggs found in an
Ajax parking lot. Just kidding.
They're Mallard Duck eggs

Especially since your Mom's name is Billie.

Once we got the 'Kill Bill' theme out of our heads Rachel's friends were unanimous in their praise for her life-saving efforts, especially after she revealed her true intentions.

"My plan was to feed her and get her in some clean, warm bedding, and then post a picture on Facebook and ask people to share it so I could find the owner," she explained. "You know, take care of her until I figured out where her home was."

She even contacted Oshawa & Durham Region Lost Pets and the Bird Network - Ontario Lost and Found for assistance. They also commended her for trying to find the owner.

The thread briefly took a turn down a dark path when one of the posters said she had reason to believe Bill was released deliberately, though without further evidence we stuck with the open window escape theory.

In any event, Bill is dead. But thanks to my friend, her final moments were comfortable in the company of someone she appeared to have trusted.

So you didn't kill Bill, right Rachel?

"I hope not. I took her home and she just kinda fell over. I think the stress of being in the cold and then driving around in a truck and then my car and finally being put in a cage was too much for her."

R.I.P. Bill.

The return of the fighting Octopus 

(And the coming of the New England IPAs)

My Ego was reluctant to drop $100 on just 28 cans of beer, especially after my Super Ego cautioned his partner in the power trio that runs my brain. "Whoa dude. Are you sure about this?"

My Id, however, had the deciding vote and gave the purchase the green light, pointing out (rather snarkily) to his scaredy cat brothers that we would be buying some of the greatest beers ever produced in this fine province.

A case of 24 of Octopus Wants to Fight IPA ($78) from Great Lakes Brewery - only my reigning Beer of the Year - and a four-pack of Immodest ($22) from Nickel Brook - a world class Imperial IPA and long-time favourite - went home with me, despite all the arguing going on between my Freudian friends.

24 delicious Octopus
Wants to Fight IPA

What choice did they really have anyway? As I mentioned, Octopus Wants to Fight was my 2016 Beer of the Year, and this Mosaic-hopped IPA was my Mid-Summer Beer of the Year that year as well. I waxed poetic about it many other times, including its battle with Ballast Point's Sculpin IPA (Undersea IPA Challenge), which Octopus naturally won, and The Last of the Octopus, in which I naturally lost. Just to name a few.

I really liked this beer.

(I must admit that my first reference to Octopus wasn't about the beer at all. In an IPA Tales blog from 2014 - R.I.P. Paul the Octopus - I mourned the loss of El Pulpo, a real octopus and resident of Oberhausen, Germany, who correctly predicted the outcome of eight straight World Cup soccer matches in 2010 before expiring, shortly after Spain's historic win in the championship game. But I digress.)

In any event, I had to spring for the whole case anyway, because the return of Octopus is a big deal around these parts and despite what you may have heard, it's not always about me. When GLB posted about its annual release I  had to share it, and the response from friends near and far was the same: send us some.

Trevor. The World's Sexiest Cellarman

GLB gave the beer the full LCBO treatment (as well they should), so we here in rainy Southern Ontario had easy access to this 6.2 per cent ode to the hop. But my friend Trevor (The World's Sexiest Cellarman) had no such opportunity, as he had left his post at Manantler Brewery in Bowmanville to make a new start on Canada's Left Coast with Russell Brewing of Surrey, B.C.

(As he is doing much the same work for Russell as he performed for Manantler, I can only assume he has taken his honoured title with him, though I have not yet confirmed this fact.)

So "send me some" meant mail him some, while he worked on sending me a few of the Vancouver area's finest hop bombs. Intra-Provincial #beersaint duties, you could say, though I class it more on the humanitarian scale.

It took a day or two longer than I hoped to get Trevor's care package in the mail, which was partly due to general procrastination and partly to finding the right wrapping paper. I found wrap at a local convenience store that said "may your life together blossom with love" and thought it most appropriate.

But the important thing is the beer is on its way, leaving me time to start working on the rest of the 24. And I'm going to try to keep all of them to myself, though I will save a few for you if you want to pop over.

Immodest Imperial India Pale Ale
from Nickel Brook Brewery

And you should, because this beer is so good. The aroma didn't seem quite so pronounced as it did last year - maybe I've been spoiled by Bellwood's Ghost Orchid and all those fantastic smelling New England IPAs I've been enjoying this spring - but the taste was just as fantastic as I remembered. Mango, pineapple, juicy citrus and a delicious bitterness to excite the tongue.

You really should pop over.

But it's too late for the Immodest. I only bought four, and I saved them for evenings when my parental and motor vehicle responsibilities were satisfied, a smart move considering the 9.5 per cent alcohol in each glorious can.

Nickel Brook used an 'obscene' amount of Citra and Simcoe hops (their word, but I agree) to deliver the flavour in this beer. Aromas of grapefruit and pineapple give way to creamy pine notes and a solid caramel malt backbone on the way down. A truly extraordinary beer.

I need to get more.

I also vow to listen to my Id more often. He's way more fun than those other two guys.

Brewing murky IPA magic - New England and Milkshake style 

It looks like orange juice with extra pulp and tastes so juicy you want it every day for breakfast.

Vermont. Spritual home
of New England IPAs

Surprisingly, not everyone is a fan of New England-style, the newest rage in IPAs. Something about the cloudy, even murky unfiltered appearance turns them off, I guess.

That's crazy talk, if you ask me. I think New England IPAs are fantastic.

Besides the aforementioned appearance, the style is noted for its incredible juiciness and for being decidedly less bitter than their West Coast counterparts.

My first New England IPA (sometimes referred to as Vermont Style) was just eight months ago and I've only had four three since. Each one has been exceptional.

My first, Bronan IPA from High Road Brewing of Niagara-on-the-lake, was a revelation. Enjoyed last summer at Beer Bistro in downtown Toronto on the way to FanExpo, it was juicy and dank at the same time and piqued my desire for more of this style.

I found Aromatherapy (Beyond the Pale of Ottawa) in the fridge at Buster Rhino's a week or so later and discovered a beer that was juicy and piney with an amazing aroma.

Before the year was out I was drinking Juicin from Sawdust City, a beer that ticked off all the world class beer boxes for me and was even a finalist for IPA of the Year in my year-end column. 

Juicin from Sawdust City

It had a mind-blowing aroma of peach and tropical citrus and was all resin, orange and peach on the tongue. Juicy and very tasty.

I loved it, and so did the rest of the patrons at the bar. Darryl, the bright-eyed and brisket-loving boss at Buster Rhino's, stocked up on cases of the stuff and they were all consumed before the holidays were over. 

I didn't think that could be topped, but then I had Somewhere Down in Moxee from Great Lakes Brewery last month. Bold and beautiful with mango, tropical fruit and resiny citrus fairly bursting from the glass. Super delicious.

Naysayers be damned. Keep making more of this style.

If New England IPAs are the rage, Milkshake IPAs are the curiosity of the moment. They are, essentially, New England-style IPAs with the addition of lactose, giving the beer a creamy texture.

Both styles boast 'juicy' as a common descriptive and there is, in fact, some confusion in the craft beer world, with some sources lumping them all in one category.

(I checked with my local expert in all things beer, Matthew of Brewer Pantry fame, and he confirmed that lactose - and usually vanilla as well - sets Milkshake IPAs apart from their Vermont brethren.)

I've had two of the Milkshake varieties, though my first one was Boys to the Yard, which was Manantler Brewery turning an already unconventional style on its head. Just to add to the confusion.

This was a Banana Chocolate Milkshake IPA and possibly the world's first Milkshake Black IPA. Super tasty and very different.

Then Bellwoods entered the picture, and this was a game changer. Milkshark IPA was ostensibly a milkshake version of their popular Witchshark Imperial IPA, with lactose and vanilla added and the alcohol tweaked down to seven per cent.

Milkshark from Bellwoods.
A game-changing Milkshake IPA

This was seriously great breakfast food. Stick a straw in it, call it a pineapple smoothie and I wouldn't bat an eye. It tasted like creamy pineapple yogurt, with a sweet vanilla kick at the end. It's a dessert beer like no other, because it's also a juicy and tropical IPA. So good.

I want more of this beer too.

But back to the New England-style IPAs for a moment, as there was supposed to be a another example of this delicious style for me to enjoy. On a previous visit to Matt's sumptuous underground lair in Bowmanville (Dark Lord Night), I remember gazing longingly at the homebrew that was coming to life in his living room.

"That's a New England-style IPA," he said. "I'll try and save you some when it's ready."

Fast forward a couple of weeks and I get a message from Matt. "It's ready," he said. "I'll try and save you a bottle, as long as Jess doesn't drink it first."

I saw Jessica, Matt's better half and my boss at Buster Rhino's, a couple of days after this conversation and she assured me there was still some left. The next day, after I repeated my question, she told me the sad news.

It was all gone. And she said this without a single trace of guilt.

Good thing she is one of my favourite people in the world and super easy to forgive.

Cheers!