The Barrie (and Beyond) beer scene steals my liver heart

You know that feeling you got when you were a kid and you skipped school to hang with your friends, 'borrowed' your brother's car to go to Buffalo for the weekend (sorry Brian) or hosted that wild party after your folks explicitly told you not to?

It was always a euphoric mix of guilt and happiness, and if you were of strong mind, it was shame free as well. Which was not always easy if you were a less than well adjusted teen like I was.

Most of the time, if you were a good boy, that little voice in your head (sounding exactly like Jiminy Cricket) could usually hold its own against that other voice (sounding exactly like Shia Labeouf saying "just doooo it!") but this time, Jiminy knew he was beat.

I was going to Barrie to drink beer with my friends, and Jiminy was coming with.

And, as I discovered a couple of Saturdays ago on my way to cottage country for the Barrie (and Beyond) Craft Brewery Invasion 2018, sneaking away for a good time with your pals gets a LOT easier when you are older.

The Brew Crue reunited

This trip was going to be a reunion of the Whitby Craft Brewery Invasion 2017, one year (almost to the day) of that super cool awesome event.

The same seven peeps were on board - Don, Hago, Josh, Candice, Joe, Paul and myself - and I was looking forward to the Brew Crue trip for months.

So when I saw the snow - at least five centimetres worth - on my driveway as I prepared to head to work at five that morning for my (scheduled) three-hour shift, I was more than a little worried this snow was going to be a problem for me.

See, my friends were expecting me by nine a.m. at the latest (the four Oshawa-based Brew Crue were all headed north in Josh's van) and there was no way I was going to let a few inches of the white stuff stop me from another epic adventure with my friends.

There would be flashing, there would be (multiple) stories involving asses - heart-shaped, moon-shaped and otherwise - there would be great beer served by fantastic people, and there would be a ton of memories created.

I wasn't missing this for a few inches of snow.

So at nine a.m., with one plaza shovelled and salted and ready for Christmas shoppers and my boy Ethan set up at our second plaza with his marching orders, I punched out, left a message for my boss and headed for Oshawa and my rendezvous with beer-soaked shenanigans in Barrie.

Consequences be damned, #sorrynotsorry and all that.

Don, Josh and myself in the kick-ass limo
(sorry, GMC Yukon XL) that Hago rented
for the weekend

Thirty minutes later I'm in the van with Josh, Candice and Joe and we were cruising north towards Barrie, with a song in my heart, a spring in my step and an insatiable thirst to get this show on the road.

An insatiable thirst, anyway, though quenching it would have to wait until we got to the limo, which was actually a eight-passenger GMC Yukon XL.

But I digress.

The ride up to Barrie was a blast, highlighted by Candice's story of road-not-quite rage on a trip with friends to Montreal a few years back that climaxed with our girl showing off her butt cheeks to a very surprised group of fellow travellers.

It's a story I dubbed (very appropriately) Clap, Finger, Moon.

I know Candice's driving, uh ... style, first hand, but this time she was riding shotgun and her crew this day was getting close to the Quebec border when they got behind a family who were driving a bit too slow for her liking. So when they finally sped up Candice gave them an exaggerated 'clap' when the opportunity presented itself.

Matt, our most excellent host at Barnstormer

After a pit stop that gave the family the lead again, they took that opportunity to give Candice the 'finger,' which prompted her to press her ass to the window and give them the most epic response.

There was more to the story (which took nearly a hour to tell, mostly because Joe kept interrupting), involving cops and some such, but that's for another day. Or maybe not.

In any event, we had arrived, and only about 30 minutes late (thanks to me), which Hago insisted was not a problem, despite his very military-like itinerary that had us arriving at Barnstormer Brewing - our first stop - kind of like now.

No worries, said our military man, as we all piled into the limo (I'm just going to go ahead and call it a limo for the rest of the story, as it makes any mention of open alcohol much more legal-like) and headed to Barnstormer.

We were greeted at the door by Matt, one of Barnstormer's brewers and our host on what would be an ambitious five-brewery day that would take us to two counties, three towns and many, many glasses of great craft beer.

I guess that last part was a given.

I only see Hago once a year so we got
some catching up to do

Hago picked Barnstormer to lead off this adventure because the kitchen was strong and he believed we needed fuel for our bellies (fish and chips for me) to fend off the alcohol to come.

Good call Hago.

Naturally, as the brewery is named after WW1 pilots who, with surplus Biplanes on the cheap after the war, started 'barnstorming' across the country performing daredevil stunts, growing great moustaches AND kick-starting commercial aviation, we all had 'flights' of the brewery's offerings, right?

Guess only Candice and I thought of it. The rest of the heathens all had pints. I can understand the thought of getting a flight at an aviation-themed brewery being lost on my pal Don - when we went to J School together a million years ago he was already middle-aged and he is positively ancient now - but the others?

Heathens. But the best kind.

My notes were wet and soggy - as usual - so I only remember Flight Delay IPA and Accelerated IIPA, and there might have been a Pilsner as well. Candice's order is also lost to the ether, but I recalled the flight number: 1-5-7-9. Go figure.

I gotta start recording notes on my phone like all the kids (and Don) do these days.

So we ate and drank while Matt regaled us with stories about the history of barnstorming and about Betty, the somewhat controversial 40s-style pin-up girl that remains an integral part of the brewery's branding.

And then Matt brought out samples of a yet-unnamed and "not quite ready" 7.5 per cent brew that was dubbed  - quite accurately - "stouterrific" by our genial host.

Hago with Sarah, Muskoka Brewery's most awesome
Digital Marketing Specialist. Sarah took real good care of us

Smoky, quite rich and delicious. Tasted ready to me.

The long drive to Bracebridge was next, so we piled back into the limo with our beer buys and headed north to stop number two: Muskoka Brewery.

That's when Hago took over the story telling mantle, while we happily passed around bottles from Manantler, Town and Little Beasts - party favours, I called them - and cans of Chocolate Milk Stout from Brock Street, courtesy of Josh, Oshawa's Greatest Carpenter.

Don (who still remembers the original) calls him Jesus.

Anyway, we were all having a great time partying like rock stars when Hago told the tale of the Heart Shaped Ass, which took us back a few years to a Foo Fighters concert at the Rogers Centre in Toronto.

Seems a young lady wanted a better view of the band performing Everlong during the encore so she climbed on her boyfriend's shoulders. There being alcohol and other substances involved, they asked Hago (a total stranger) if he could put his hand in the small of her back to prevent any possible disaster.

The Muskoka Survival Pack that was
gifted us by Sarah, who is most certainly
NOT the social media voice of Mad Tom

So Hago watched the encore with a perfect, "heart-shaped" bum in his face the entire song. "Dave Grohl sang that song to me through her ass. I wasn't complaining at all."

It was also a great story to help us pass the time as Dan, our (very) patient Air Force driver, piloted us through the majestic Canadian Shield landscape that was our route from Barrie to Bracebridge and Muskoka Brewery.

And we couldn't have picked a better time to go, as it was Winter Village at Muskoka, with local businesses and artisans taking over the brewery for the day.

If you wanted arts & crafts, snacks (beer cookies, anyone?), entertainment or just a delicious beer, this was the place to be.

Did I mention beer cookies? I think I did, and they were so good I visited the booth twice. I bought another cookie the second time 'round, but the real reason for stopping by Granny Lyn's Kitchen - "Homemade With Love" - was to thank Murray, my affable beer cookie salesman, for going way above and beyond the call of duty and returning the keys my dumbass had left behind.

I was already around the corner amidst a thick throng of people when the man caught up with me. Talk about going the extra mile, or at least a couple hundred feet.

Thank you, Murray.

I eventually made it to the other side of the brewery where most of the Brew Crue were chilling betwixt and between a ping-pong table and a bar, where Muskoka was doing a brisk business selling Ebb & Flow, their new 2.4 per cent Session Sour.

Sawdust City Adam

It's also where we ran into Sarah, Muskoka's boss of Digital Marketing and where we had our first beer-related accident.

With a ping-pong table on my left, I happily challenged Joe to a match, which we played with drinks in one hand and paddle in the other. So I naturally smashed my first return to Joe's left, which he promptly try to volley with the hand holding the glass of beer and great hilarity ensued.

No one was harmed during "the incident" - though one woman gave Joe us a dirty look - and we made sure the proper cleaning authorities were alerted.

Sarah, who showed up a few minutes after the clean-up, just laughed, and gifted us with an armful of Survival Packs containing six of Muskoka's finest beers (plus an Ebb & Flow) and a beer glass.

We then unanimously declared we loved Sarah, even though there were whispers that she was, in fact, the voice of 'Mad Tom,' the crusty, curmudgeonly and top secret Twitter account that is (possibly) unsupported and unsanctioned by the brewery itself.

'Mad Tom' himself chimed in two days later on Twitter, declaring that Sarah was an "imposter," and that the "closest I'd get to you buffoons is never. I can't wait to burn your stupid articles."

No way that's Sarah, I replied. She's going to LOVE our stupid articles. Even Grampa Don's.

One gift shop stop later (where I left my keys behind again. Thank you Candice!) we were back in the limo and headed to nearby Gravenhurst, home of the legendary Sawdust City Brewery.

This picture taught me that Candice loves barrel-aged beer
and that she has mad selfie skills

This was a brewery that has always been on my bucket list. It's the home of Lone Pine and Twin Pine IPAs, as well as a humongous beer fridge and the world's largest Muskoka Chair, which would presumably make it even bigger than Muskoka Brewing's own over-sized Muskoka Chair.

That little tidbit of intel was a challenge to Josh and Candice, the youngest members of the squad, who climbed the snow-covered chair with little difficulty.

Not-so-young Joe (at least he's younger than Don) also reached the summit, though it was touch and go for a while and the trip down the chair had a rescue team on hand. Just in case.

We were met inside by Sawdust City Adam, who appears to perform almost every task at the brewery (#heisdueforaraisesam) and would take us around the place on a proper tour before depositing us at the bar to get our drinks in.

The highlight of the tour - as well as the Sad Emoji Moment - was in the basement, where Sawdust City's barrel program is born and raised. There were nearly 50 barrels in total, including one that nearly made me cry: a barrel of 11.05 that had become infected and was sentenced to drain pour.

11.05 is annual collaboration celebrating the shared birthdays of Sawdust City Brewmaster Sam Corbeil and Nickel Brook/Collective Arts wonderboy Ryan Morrow. This year's version (11.05 per cent, natch) is a Belgian Quad with oak and cherries and I have deliberately held onto my lone can to honour the sacrifice made by that infected beer.

Here are Candice and Josh at the snow-covered peak,
having conquered the world's largest Muskoka
Chair at Sawdust City Brewing 

I will remember.

From to the cellar to the bar for the Crue, and I found myself sitting with Candice and Paul and enjoying the moment, as well as a flight of Let's Get B.I.S.A. (a Belgian-inspired Session Ale), Lone Pine, Long, Dark Voyage to Uranus and a guest pale ale from Thunder Bay's Sleeping Giant Brewery.

The next stop on our itinerary was the drive back to Barrie and the Four Points Sheraton, where the plan was to check in, have a shower and sober up a bit for dinner and the final two destinations: Redline and Flying Monkeys.

The fact we made it back to Dan and the limo almost on schedule but not really any more sober - Paul breaking out the high-test stuff in the hotel didn't help - was close enough to a win for me.

I love it when a plan comes together.

Oh, and there was flashing as well, as Candice spotted Don having a smoke in the parking below the hotel room and gave the old man an eyeful. I thought it was a brilliant idea, so I did the same, except I wasn't wearing a bra underneath, so I gave him TWO eyefuls.

Actually, I think I'll leave this part out of the story.

Anyway, our penultimate brewery (and our destination for dinner) was next, and Redline Brewhouse would be the one I was most looking forward to visiting.

The amazing Kaitlyn and Dex from
Redline Brewhouse

Redline's beers - notably Double Clutch Imperial IPA and the decidedly more sessionable but just as tasty Clutch - have always been in my wheelhouse so this south-end brewery was a must see for me.

Turned out this sentiment was shared by several other Brew Crue members.

And we got the 'special' VIP treatment at Redline. That is, we got treated at every stop like royalty, but at Redline we were pirated in from an alley at the back door.

That's either Special VIP or "let's sneak these drunken bastards in the back way so no one sees them."

Either way I felt special.

There was one not-so-small complication, however. Paul took a tumble in the alley upon exiting the limo and turned an ankle pretty bad, making the simple act of walking difficult and painful. But, with a little help from his friends and the understanding of Kaitlyn, Redline's extra awesome Sales Manager, Paul soldiered on.

Which was excellent news for all of us, as Kaitlyn had prepared a table laden with delicious brews for us to try. There was the Double Clutch/Clutch tandem, a Brown Ale called Leather Interiors and a few barrel-aged beauties as well.

Grampa Don with Paul from Redline.
If you see Don, ask him how he got that blue in
that award-winning (and bitchin') stache.

Kaitlyn was soon joined by Dex, who has 12 or so titles at Redline, and the two of them took us through the tasting session before passing us off to Paul for a tour of the brewing section.

An entertaining and informative tour it was, a fact I mentioned to Kaitlyn
when the tour was complete. "He's not even a brewer," she said of Paul. "But we're lucky to have him."

I should say so.

Dinner was next, and this time it was Joe on hand to make sure we were well taken care of.

Like I said: Special VIP Treatment.

We decided to make a pit stop at the hotel before we hit up Flying Monkeys, our final brewery of the day. What with Paul's bum ankle and a few other (possibly alcohol-related) complications, it was a compact squad of four - Josh, Candice, Hago and myself - that completed the mission by cruising to downtown Barrie.

Good call gentlemen.

The downside of that decision was Don didn't get to meet Peter and Andrea Chiodo, the owners of this legendary brewery. My Beer Bro and college chum has chatted with Andrea, who handles social media for the Monkeys, many, many times but they had yet to connect.

For what it's worth, I didn't get to meet them either. I saw both of them, and Andrea spoke at length with us, but she was speaking to the other side of the table and frankly, I thought Andrea was another staffer or perhaps a very friendly regular.

This pic of Hago and Josh perfectly captures
the super cool ambiance at Flying Monkeys
Brewing, as well the state of inebriation at
this, our final stop of the day

Oopsie. Next time, then.

In any event, the four of us were treated royally, as we had been treated all day.

I could definitely get used to this.

I had more than my share of beer by this time, so I opted for something sessionable. Smart, huh? And then the Invictus came out. An 18 per cent monster of a Bourbon barrel-aged Russian Imperial Stout also know as Good God Man - What are you Drinking?, this brew would have been enough to put me on my ass all by itself.

So I settled for a 5-ounce pour.

And then the Viva Rose (I think that's what they called it) arrived at the table. A mash of the brewery's 12 Minutes To Destiny Hibiscus Pale Lager and their Chocolate Manifesto Triple Chocolate Milk Stout, this was a pretty potent brew in its own right.

So I enjoyed just a 5-ounce pour of that too. And then I glanced across the table at Candice, who was happily drinking a full pint of the stuff.

Jeebus.

But all good things must come to an end, and after waiting for Candice to finish her glass - "Is it time to go already?" - we exited to Dan and the waiting limo with one thing on our collective minds: sleep.

The next day, this rag-tag but well rested bunch rose at the cheerful hour of 10 or so to go to breakfast at Deb's Place, because there's nothing better than a deliciously greasy plate of bacon and eggs to ward off the hangover spirits.

Except for Candice, who stayed in the limo to catch up on her sleep as she didn't get much the night before. "I kept kept getting drunker during the night," she complained.

What's left of the Brue Crew after breakfast
on Sunday. A capper to a wonderful weekend.

Grampa Don was missing as well, because he 'phantomed' in the morning before I could give him his care package of beer I brought from home. I'm guessing Don wanted a head start on drinking all his Barrie and Beyond beers he brought with him. Or maybe the senior's centre where he lives has a curfew, I dunno.

But to paraphrase Shakespeare. I come to praise Ceasar Don, not to bury him. He and Hago did an absolutely fantastic job of organizing (and bankrolling) this adventure and their efforts will not be forgotten.

Praise of the highest order also goes out to Barnstormer Brewing & Distilling, Muskoka Brewery, Sawdust City Brewing, Redline Brewhouse and Flying Monkeys Craft Brewery. Your collective hospitality was amazing and we thank you from the bottoms (and the tops) of our hearts.

All that was left for me was to face the music at the work the next day for leaving early on Saturday to make my connection to this epic party.

But I'm a big boy. My 'punishment' was not something I couldn't handle and I can categorically state that I REGRET NOTHING. It was all worth it.

Cheers!

No touque for Dimitri

My cousin Steve, a TFC season ticket holder (and part-time hockey ref), wished me a happy birthday on the annointed day, and then had a moment of absolute clarity.

"I should give my pair of tickets to TFC's final game to my beloved cousin who I see every two years as a birthday present," said Steve (not to be confused with my other cousin Steve) just minutes after wishing me birthday greetings on Facebook.

The actual text of his message was actually pretty close to that: Hey, I know the season is a wash, but I can't go to the TFC finale this Sunday as I officiate hockey and have 4 games. As a BD gift would you like them cuz?

So of course I said yes. Even though it had been a hugely disappointing season for the defending MLS Cup champions - they were eliminated from playoff contention a month ago - it's still a TFC game, and I'm still a fan.

Dimitri and I at the TFC game. I may look
funny wearing glasses but damn! I look good
in my official TFC touque.

And it was Touque Day.

The first 10,000 fans get a free TFC touque. That sounded very doable and though I don't often wear hats, I'm always up for free stuff.

I asked my buddie Steve (not my actual cousin) if he wanted to go to the match - I've taken him to several previous soccer games - but he was watching his grandson. Number One Son Matt was next in the queue, but his daughter was coming over to spend the afternoon so he was out. His brother Cam? Working nights, he sadly informed me.

So I went to Plan B and asked my now former work pal Dimitri - who had never been to BMO Field - if he was up for the game. Dimitri, who was perfectly okay with being fourth - "aww, I was right after family" - said he'd love to go.

Especially after he heard it was Touque Day.

So after picking him up just after lunch Sunday and getting fuelled for the GO Train ride down to BMO 10/17-style (hey! It was an historic week), we drove down to the station. And promptly missed our train by seconds because I wasted a precious few too many of them trying to buy my ticket at one of those damn ticket vending machines.

Dimitri, meanwhile just swiped his Presto card and he's in and waiting for me, but the train started moving as we got to the tracks so we knew it was too late.

"Let's catch it at Whitby," says Dimitri, so we run (Dimitri)/hobble (me) back to my car (four hundred metres away) and I put on my racing goggles as I prepared to outrun a train.

Great plan, but the 401 wasn't co-operating and we could see the train on our left not getting any closer, so I decided to skip Whitby and head off the train in Ajax.

And missed it by seconds again.

"We could have beaten it to Pickering," Dimitri ventures, but I'm already done racing trains, I told him. "Dude. We're going to a brewery."

Cousin Steve moonlighting on
winter weekends

Can you blame me? I'm not going to beat a GO Train and Falcon Brewery was so close. And I was thirsty. We'll catch the next train in an hour, I told my young friend. Plenty of time to still be among the first 10,000 fans at BMO, right? Right?

So we whiled away forty minutes or so at Falcon, sipping on a Munition IPA while watching the whitest band ever assembled rock out a string of country/rock/folk hits at Open Mic.

It's not that they were bad - it was actually quite enjoyable - but with an average age of about 70 and the stage presence worthy of the undead it was a bit of a soulless experience. I swore the guitarist, who played in the sitting position, was either sleeping or worse until I saw his fingers move.

A bit of fun nonetheless, but with trains to catch and no luck so far catching them, we were soon on our way.

Having missed the 1:41 train to Exhibition Station, we made the 2:41 and arrived at the stadium with an hour to spare before game time; plenty of time for a friendly BMO staffer to assist me in finding our 'tickets' on my phone.

As I have said in this space before, I so need help.

Anyway, we make it inside but there was not a hat to be found. "Did we miss the touques?" I ask another friendly staffer, not quite believing we weren't among the first 10,000 fans.

TFC striker Sebastian Giovinco

"Sorry sir. They're all gone."

The look of disappointment must have been obvious, because a man to my right - possibly another friendly BMO employee, possibly just an empathetic soul - pressed a touque in my hands. "Last one," he said.

"Thank you," I said. "But you don't have another one for my friend?"

"That's it bud."

Sorry Dimitri. No touque for you.

We continued on our tour of the stadium, looking for food and more importantly, beer. Nothing but macro brews at BMO, but a Mill Street West Coast IPA for me and a Hopped and Confused Session Ale for Dimitri hit the spot nicely.

We also ran into one of those credit card people in the concourse. You know, sign up for our card - and who doesn't need more crippling credit card debt, am I right? - and we give you a gift. In this case, a soccer ball.

And I wanted a soccer ball.

So I signed on the dotted line (the card is in the mail) and turned to Dimitri. "You can get a ball too."

No ID. No soccer ball for Dimitri either.

The crowd at BMO Field on most match days

But we had beer, and settled in to our seats to watch TFC's final game of the season against Atlanta, a team that could have broken our single season points record with a victory or a tie.

So the boys had something besides pride to play for and they put together a clinic for 90 minutes, thoroughly dismantling Atlanta 4-1, thanks to goals by Lucas Janson (2), Marky Delgado and the Atomic Ant himself, Sebastian Giovinco.

Too bad they couldn't have done that on a more consistent basis during the rest of the season. And too bad New York Red Bulls - one point behind Atlanta in the race for the Supporters Shield going into the match - won their last game to eclipse TFC's record anyway.

The record lasted just one year.

But on the bright side, I have brand new soccer ball. And an authentic TFC touque.

Sorry Dimitri.

Beer & Bacon in the Shwa-Eh

If the immediate economic impact of a fledgling beer festival is the true measure of success, the Beer & Bacon Shwa-Eh held October 19-20 at Children's Arena in Oshawa was a bit of a dud.

Crowds were thin for both days, despite a stellar musical lineup and enough delicious local beer to keep me happy. And judging from the looks on the faces of the brewers and vendors in attendance, everyone took a bit of a bath on this one.

I, however, had a great time, and that's what really matters, am I right?

In fairness to Bowmanville's KCC Event Productions, who hosted three successful butter tart festivals in Durham last year, the timing for the beer festival was bad. They did a lot of promotion on Facebook and other social media, but a sign blitz immediately before the festival - the final weekend before the municipal election - fell flat amidst a sea of campaign signs plastered all over the city.

Josh and I. Birthday fam for life

On the bright side, Beer & Bacon Shwa-Eh garnered a couple hundred write-in votes for Mayor of Oshawa.

Just playing. It was only a couple dozen.

(KCC may want to also consider reverting back to the original name of the event - Beer & Bacon Festival, as the 'Shwa-Eh' addendum - particularly the 'Eh' - is a bit tired, but that could be just me.)

Seven brewers stuck around for the two days, along with a half-dozen vendors inside the arena and three food trucks in the parking lot. Not a lot of bacon-y products but plenty of beer for us thirsty masses.

My birthday bro Josh and I decided to take in the festival on the Saturday:  two days before our shared birthday.

Now I've known Josh since he was knee high to a grasshopper, fresh off the boat from Bristol, England, and ever since he came of age we've talked about celebrating our birthday together but our plans oft go awry, as ol' Robbie would say.

(Consecutive blogs quoting Robbie Burns. My Sons of Scotland dues should be on the house this year.)

So this year we decided we would have a drink or 12 together, albeit two days before the date. And what better venue for the celebration than a beer festival?

As it was just three days after cannabis was legalized in this country - 10/17 is the new 4/20 - we were sufficiently mellow when we arrived at Children's Arena for the event.

You could probably squeeze 400 or more people on the arena floor but there was never more than 70 or 80 festival goers in the time we were there, so that was disappointing, but friends Linda and John were there, so that was not.

My pal Matt from Manantler Brewing was in the house, so my once-and-always favourite brewery became my first stop. And my second, with Creamed by Bickell in my glass, followed by Ketchin Zeez, while I caught up with Matt on all things beer.

Drink number three was Eye of Sauron, a Sour from Chronicle Brewing, and after a quick chat with brewery owner Ted I returned to my table and the friends I had abandoned.

The talented Sarah Fazackerley

We talked about Trump, and I lamented the state of journalism in the world of 'fake' news; and we also talked about local brewers - good and bad. Linda and John are both experienced home brewers, so their opinions were something I valued.

The subject of the legalization of weed also came up, and the prevailing opinion (mine, anyway) was that the bloom had already fallen off that rose. Marijuana, we agreed, was not really legal. Just 'controlled.'

I knew they'd screw this up.

Rant over, I hit up Cameron's next and their First Light Session Lager, a four per cent beer that was top notch. I liked this one a lot and said so to Andrea at the booth, and we had a brief chat about the attendance at the festival.

"A little slow last night?" I ventured, "Meh," she replied with as much diplomacy as she could muster. "We're hoping for better things tonight."

Brock Street and their Bohemian Pilsner was next on my agenda and then I settled back in my chair for the entertainment, namely Justin Cooper, a guitarist/singer from Oshawa.

Justin, who (with his fellow musician buddy Greg) would join our table later, started off covering Ed Sheeran and Garth Brooks before bringing in the uber talented Sarah Fazackerley on flute for a country-rock cover of New Orleans is Sinking by the Tragically Hip.

Musicians Justin and Greg with the very
silvery King himself

I can tell you that this number - the greatest song in rock 'n roll, in my humble opinion - made me sit up and take notice. It took half a minute to get used to Justin's version but by the end I was really digging it, thanks in no small part to Sarah's flute playing.

Sarah took over the stage next (with Justin helping out on the beat box) and performed Sublime's What I Got before killing it with a soulful cover of Jolene, the song that made Dolly Parton a star.

Problem was no one, except our table, seemed to be paying attention.

Between sets Sarah came by for a chat with Josh, who she remembered from nights performing at the Atria in downtown Oshawa, back when my boy was booking acts and working sound for the club.

I needed more beer, so back I went into the breach, hitting up Chronicle again for their Harvest Ale and Falcon Brewery for ... damn, I didn't write it down and don't remember.

It was good, though.

Next up was Bancroft Brewery for their Black Quartz Dark Ale.

Owner Logan - a super nice guy - promised a "smoky coffee" flavour and he wasn't wrong, as I got campfire smoke and bitter coffee.

We chatted about the festival - he just shrugged when he looked at the sparse crowd, pointing out it was "the same last night" - and we talked long enough for me to try another of his beers. Ironman was an IPA that Linda had said was "really malty, but really good" and it was indeed, very British and pretty damn good.

As I had hit up every brewer - some twice - and I still had tickets left, I decided I'd plunk down a token at the Oshawa Brewing Company booth. I wanted to see if the beers had improved since I sampled them at Buster Rhino's shortly after this Brew-Your-Own business became a brewery a few months back.

Still some carbonation issues but Mango Sensation was fruity on the nose with plenty of mango. It tasted like mango fruit juice, so I guess that's something.

And then it was time for Sarah's second set, which included rousing renditions of Son of a Preacher Man and Go Ask Alice and an original tune called Say Nothing that was seriously fantastic.

I still had two more tickets - thanks to Josh - but as my legs were getting wobbly and I was starting to leave my sample glass in strange places, I figured these to be my last.

I had a Black & Tan (a mix of Creamed by Bickell and Ketchin Zeez) at the Manantler booth and finished with something from Bancroft (probably another Ironman) before heading out to the parking lot for a nosh (a monstrous grilled cheese sandwich called a Big Daddy) to fuel me for the ten minute wobble walk home.

All in all, not a bad pre-birthday bash. Thanks Josh!

Cheers!

Ode to a bar

A Farewell (sort of) to Oshawa's iconic Buster Rhino's

As the great Scottish bard Robbie Burns once said, "the best laid plans of mice, men and beer bloggers oft go awry."

I'm paraphrasing slightly, as he was writing in the Scots dialect so translation is sketchy at best. But the point here is that we writers - like every other damn person - have to adapt from time to time when the narrative of the tale we're trying to tell changes.

Case in point? The story of the closing of Buster Rhino's, my cherished local in downtown Oshawa.

Darryl Koster, that prosperous, pared-down and problem-solving publican, announced on October 7 that the downtown Buster Rhino's location would be shut down, with the last night scheduled for Tuesday, October 16.

I had heard the news the day before when Alex, the former general manager, had pulled me aside to tell me the sad truth. I won't say I cried - because it wouldn't be true - but I was certainly gob-smacked.

Buster Rhino's owner
Darryl Koster

I was also certain I had to write about it, and after getting some advice from my pal Don - who had to pen a goodbye piece after his cherished Rib-Eye Jacks in Burlington closed its doors just shy of a year ago - I set about trying to interview as many people as I could find who had ties to Buster's.

I had spoken to a half-dozen people  - with more stories on the way - when I heard whispers that the staff had offered Darryl a proposal: they would run the place while Darryl negotiated with a few parties interested in buying the restaurant.

The fact the lease is paid until July was probably an excellent selling point.

By Tuesday, the final night for Buster Rhino's in Oshawa, the rumours were privately confirmed, though it wasn't until the next day that it was made official.

"The staff of our downtown location is ecstatic to announce they will be taking over the management of this location and will remain open on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays from 4 pm to midnight. Profits from this arrangement will be shared amongst the new management team."

The first night under the new deal was Thursday, October 18. Just in time for comedy night. And yeah, I was there.

In the meantime I had all those interviews to sift through. There was a lot of heart-felt emotion in the stories I heard, and even a few tears. And with this new arrangement being only a short term solution - probably until the end of the Christmas season - the future of Buster Rhino's in downtown Oshawa is still very much in the air.

Mrs. Buster Rhino's herself, Beth Koster

So I decided those stories deserved to be told.

This, then, is a look at the 'final' week of Buster Rhino's in Oshawa.

Wednesday, October 10

This is the night shit actually got real for me. I dropped in just before the end of Beer Sessions, the monthly 'beer club' run by Sheila Mazur, a certified BJCP judge and a dear friend.

Sheila, who has been into craft beer since way back in 2002, started coming to the bar initially for the tap takeovers - "a great way to meet the brewers and try new beers" - and stayed because of the support she and her wife Tracy received from Darryl. "I felt I had a warrior at my back."

The news of the bar's closing hit her hard. "This is the Oshawa Cheers for me. This is the place where everyone knows my name. I know I can come here and bullshit and I always know somebody. And," she said with her trademark huge smile, "I can get out of my wife's hair."

Willow Parker has known Darryl since they were both 17 and she remembers the place even before it opened. "My first memory here is (Darryl's son) Jackson, who was about three, riding a pump truck through the bar."

"There are so many memories here," she added. "I'm incredibly sad it's closing. I can walk home from here - this is my local."

"Darryl is one of my very best friends and I understand it's a business decision. But I thought this would last forever."

Thursday, October 11

The next night - Comedy Night at the club - I popped into the bar after my delivery shift and immediately ran into the dangerously awesome Sarah, an original employee, a long time favourite of this blog (her first appearance was September 26, 2014 in Not a normal beer festival) and former manager who made a triumphant return to the bar earlier this year.

The incomparable Sheila Mazur

Sarah Healy wasn't in a memory sharing mood - "you're not writing about my best memories here," she said before breaking out in that laugh of hers that was voted #1 Laugh in Craft Beer three years running. "I worked the first shift here, and I'm going to work the last."

The lovely Brittni was also working this night, and promised me some words of wisdom the next time I saw her, so there wasn't much quotable this night. But there was a melancholy mood to the evening, as many of the comedy regulars were thinking it was the last time they would see funny people at Buster Rhino's.

My pal Lincoln Trudeau (the most historically political name ever), was performing that night and sent me a message a couple of days later after he heard the news.

"Always liked the place," said the actor/stand up comic, who was a high school intern at the Bay News, the Ajax-Pickering newspaper I worked at in the early 90s. A former intern who is now 40. Way to make me feel old, Lincoln.

He was surprised when he heard the news - "Damn! It just seemed to come out of nowhere" - and a little ticked he wouldn't get to perform there again.

"I'll be out of the area until it's closed. I had no idea this past Thursday would be my last."

Friday, October 12

I made only a brief appearance this evening, as I was working and close to flat broke. When I chose to visit my local every day for a week (for professional purposes) I forgot to factor in the expense required for that (professional) dedication.

Amber Knapp and her mother
Shannon Lahaye. Two amazing women

So a half-hour gab while I waited for my next call would have to do on this night. Darryl was there, so I extracted another tidbit or two about the closing, and so was my union enforcer pal Joe, fresh from dishing out the elbows (*disclaimer: there were no actual elbows dished*) to union-busters in Gander, Newfoundland. It was nice to catch up with Joe, who joined our motley crew for the Whitby Craft Brewery Invasion 2017 last December.

And Shannon Lahaye was there. Shannon, a former employee (at both ends of the house), is my technical troubleshooter (I so need help), my confidante and occasional life coach and a cherished friend, so it's always super cool to spend time with her.

She's also my accountant and knows all my financial secrets, so I have to say nice things about her.

Saturday, October 13

I was expecting this to be the big party - I said no to an offer to do a brewery tour of Prince Edward County with Willow and her friends to be here - and while the place wasn't jammed, it was busy and most of the regulars - my friends - were in attendance.

It's also when I had a chance to talk at length with Darryl about his decision.

"I've just been too busy in Whitby," he said. He also discovered the more time he spent at the Wentworth Street location - where he produces rubs, spices, beef jerky, pig candy (and other tasty stuff) for the retail industry, as well as all the smoked meat for the two restaurants - the more he could accomplish. "I wanted to focus my efforts on the retail business, which really has no limits."

"I would love to see this continue," he said, waving his hands around the restaurant, noting there were several serious bidders looking to buy the business.

A foodie first, Darryl opened the downtown Oshawa Buster Rhino's to "teach Oshawa customers about good southern barbecue," but it ended up being a destination for craft beer, whisky and a good laugh as well.

"It was the right move at that time. It was one of the great corners in downtown Oshawa and we realized it could work."

Our pugnacious, pixelated and pork rind-loving publican said he was proud of some of the things he and his staff were able to accomplish in the six-plus years Buster's has been in Oshawa, from barbecuing a whole alligator outside the restaurant to introducing craft beer and comedy to the city's downtown.

Shannon Clancy and Brittni Morgan. Two of my very
favourite peoples

"I've met some incredible people," he said. "I was also able to feed a lot of people and that makes me happy."

Perhaps the biggest legacy started by Darryl and his team - and one that is expected to continue - is the Durham Craft Beer Festival, which was introduced to downtown Oshawa in 2014.

I've been to all six incarnations of the event, with the last two as either an employee or a volunteer, so I have many fond memories - yes, I remember everything - of this annual party.

So does Riley Burnett, a Vet Tech student who spends most summers back in Oshawa working the kitchen at Buster's.

"The best memories always involve the beer festival," he said. "I think it was the third festival and it was an absolute blast. After working like mad all day in the kitchen ... I was happy to be done with work that day."

"I remember sitting down and having a fantastic night drinking and laughing all the way to close with Shannon, Jessica and many others. It had to be one of the best nights I've ever had at Buster's."

"There was another time we were celebrating Shannon's birthday," he continued. "Lots of old faces came out to celebrate and it was made even better as we had live music that night from Troy and Bernie, who sang 'Asshole' by Denis Leary while taking hits of helium. To cap it off they sang 'Stacy's Mom' but they modified it for Shannon and instead sang about Amber's Mom. It was a great night. We had many laughs and made memories that will last a lifetime."

Adam (Almost The Mayor) Kunz

Speaking of Shannons, the second Shannon (Clancy) in my life was in attendance Saturday and she said she would miss Buster's plenty.

She had a brief run as a server at the bar - "when Darryl found out I worked at a bank and could count change he was thrilled" - and remembered a first date at Buster Rhino's that didn't go so well.

"It was an awful first date and my server saved me," she said smiling.

Quite a few regulars were here on the final Saturday, including my friends Jeff Davis and Adam Kunz, who both gave me quotes not fit for a family blog.

Not that this is a family blog.

But Brittni Morgan was there, and as she wasn't working she was in a talkative mood.

"I wouldn't have met all the people here if it wasn't for this place," she said, her flashing dimples perfectly punctuating her thoughts. "I wouldn't have met you or Jeff or Cal and everyone else. And I'll always cherish that."

"Darryl took a chance on me - I had never served before," she added. "He asked why I wanted to work here if I was a teacher. 'Cause I want a house,' I told him. He said 'You know, I like you. You're hired.'"

"And we kinda have similar personalities so we've butted heads ever since."


Sunday, October 14

Aahh, this was the night the @BrewCrue gang - a five-seventh share of it, anyway - assembled at Buster's for a goodbye drink.

Candice being Candice after a hot day
volunteering at the Durham Craft Beer Festival

Paul put the call out first for a Sunday meet-up on Facebook and got quick responses from Candice, Joe and Josh. As I had pledged (professionally) to be at Buster's every night until it closed, I didn't think it required me to respond. But I did anyway because I am not nothing if not polite.

The only people missing from the reunion of the Whitby Craft Brewery Invasion, a truly memorable brewery tour (there was a limo!) that took place last December, was the videographer extraordinaire Hago and my old college chum Don. As they live in Barrie and Oakville, respectively, I suppose they can be excused.

Josh and I naturally talked about our shared birthday coming up in a week, and we all shared memories of last year's party (there was a limo!) and started making plans for an encore.

Candice Lootsma, clearly bored by all our birthday talk, said she had been coming to Buster's at least as long as I have (probably longer) and remembers being introduced to the place by her flyboy boyfriend, Chris, who had met Darryl earlier at an aviation event. She remembers birthday parties here ("surprise!") and volunteering shenanigans at the festival most of all.

And us too, I suggested. "Yes. You too," she agreed.

Shannon (Clancy) was there as well and I would discover (five minutes after Josh left) that she was also born on October 22.

What are the odds?

My favourite bank teller (and now birthday friend for life) was sitting at the bar with Adam, who was showing no signs of nervousness despite being in the middle of the municipal election campaign and therefore the final week in his quest to be Mayor of Oshawa.

The @BrewCrue reunited (most of 'em) from last December's
Whitby Craft Brewery Invasion

Less than a week later we would learn my pal - who didn't put up a single sign - would convince 1,057 people that he was worthy of running our city, based solely on scientific logic, common sense and dashing good looks.

I voted for Adam, which proves why voting is so important. If I hadn't cast my ballot? 1,056.

That's power, people.

Monday, October 15

I had just time (and cash) for a half-pint, which was good because I just snuck in at last call and only got my beer - Double Clutch from Redline, which I'd been drinking all week - because Shanice Hart loves me or took pity on me. Either way, I got my beer.

Shanice, along with Sarah and Brittni and Andrew in the kitchen, make up the foursome that will be managing Buster Rhino's going forward, but it wasn't official - or even well known - on the second-last day of the bar's scheduled life.

Still, the whispers were getting louder and the regulars there this night - Shannon (Lahaye), Adam, Willow and others - all knew the score by this time, which made the vibe a little weird.

Weirder than normal, that is.

Tuesday, October 16

Shanice Hart. A Super Woman who continues to work despite
blowing her ACL, MCL and all her other CLs

Full house tonight for the last night. Most of the people I've talked about over this last week were there. Some knew the closing would be for just one day; others had no idea and were feeling a bit nostalgic.

Cal, who until recently was Darryl's #1 customer, was here this night, which was cool because I hadn't seen him in weeks. Work, he said, citing plenty of lucrative overtime lately at GM as his excuse.

I resisted the urge to get him to buy me a beer.

Dave, the Mad Brewer from Falcon, was at the bar as well, and we chatted a bit about all things beer with Darryl, and even clarified rumours about Falcon's expansion plans.

Darryl, meanwhile, confirmed that staff was looking to take over management of the bar, with the first night scheduled for Thursday night, but said it was not a done deal, noting that the contract had yet to be signed.

Strange vibes indeed. But most of us ignored the chatter for one last night and we stayed well past close to say goodbye anyway.

Open for business

Sarah Healy with former manager
(best boss ever!) Jessica Billingham

Two nights later, as promised, Buster Rhino's was back slinging suds and serving up barbecue goodness. Sarah was behind the bar when I walked in just before nine and I asked her what the short-term future of the new management structure was going to look like.

Is being open just three nights a week viable?

"We will see," she said, adding that they were looking at opening on other nights as well. "I'd like to open once a month on Wednesdays for Beer Sessions and we're looking to do private functions too."

"Like Christmas parties?" I asked.

"Exactly like Christmas parties," she answered.

Sarah has already been reaching out to brewers like Rainhard and Blood Brothers of Toronto to get some new beers in, so I'm feeling upbeat that this team will make this work.

All three women at the front of the house have already accomplished great things: Sarah, just 28, has travelled half the world and is in the middle of the nursing program at Durham College; Brittni is a teacher and dreams big (the house thing was just the start); and Shanice is a personal trainer, a kinesiology student and someone who just generally kicks ass. Andrew is a top notch cook as well with a wealth of experience running busy kitchens.

They're also super awesome people and my friends, so if anyone can do this up right, they can.

I will, of course, do my share by drinking their fine ales and eating their delicious food as frequently as economically possible.

For professional purposes.

Cheers!

A not boring day

I had been talking up the coming weekend probably from Monday on.

I was boring my friends, in fact, about those two blessed days, telling them I was going to de-stress because I had exactly zero responsibilities. No J-Man to feed and no parental responsibilities back at the Toronto homestead.

The truth, of course, was that I was stressing over every little thing I wanted to accomplish on my two days off. In typical me fashion.

I had a blog to finish, for starters. A blog that should have written itself that was already nearly two weeks in the works. I needed a haircut. My apartment was a mess. I was running out of beer. The list went on.

And all I really wanted to do was sleep.

My day would begin dark and early at 5 am as I had to do my Saturday shift at my landscaping job, but I was okay with that because my pal Malcolm - an ex Brock landscaper - was dropping by for a visit after our three-hour shift.

Hugs all 'round when this boy shows up. He's just that kinda guy.

Meet Ricky. As he's eating breakfast (followed by a nap),
he'd prefer not to be disturbed

But the first thing that happened to make this a Not Boring Day was when I met Ricky.

Brandon and I were on our second mall (of three) of the morning when I approached the garbage bin in front of the Food Basics store on Westney Road in Ajax, with the intent of changing the bag.

And then the bag moved. WTF? So I peeked inside and there was this raccoon, as chill as the morning air and twice as adorable, nestled amongst the garbage, gnawing on something edible and staring up at me as if to say, "what's up bub? I'm trying to eat my breakfast here."

So naturally I called Brandon over for a look, and he offered the cautionary advice to send him on his way before he scares the hell out of the arriving shoppers.

"Nah, let him have his breakfast," I said. "We'll check up on him before we leave."

Thirty minutes later I peeked in to his bin and we found him fast asleep, and attracting a crowd to boot. Okay, it was one curious Food Basics staffer, but still, that makes three of us (plus Ricky) and three's a crowd, right?

So I tipped the bin over to coax Ricky out and he grudgingly left his bed to slowly make his way along the sidewalk in the direction of someplace other than the shopping plaza.

Two Brandons and a Malcolm. The (bearded)
Warriors Three

Brandon followed at a discreet distance behind, filming the event and looking for all to see like he was taking his pet raccoon for a walk. This 100-metre journey took some time, as Rickey's pace (and Brandon's) reached a top speed of amble, which was slower than a saunter and barely half as fast as mosey.

Understandable as the poor guy just got rudely woken up from a nap. Rickey; not Brandon.

But all good things must come to an end, including the adventures with Ricky, as well as a litter run at dawn on a Saturday morning, and our three crews eventually returned to the shop, where Malcolm (who actually took the bus in to see us) was waiting.

We caught up for a bit before I squeezed five of us in my little car - two Brandons, Malcolm, Dimitri and myself - to pop over to see another ex Brock guy, Kuda, who lived just a few minutes away.

All good people, and my friends, so we listened to tunes (mostly Rap and Kuda's Zimbabwean Dance Hall stuff), we blazed and we talked about the good times. And then we blazed some more.

All in all, a very good morning.

Dance Hall music. The soundtrack to
my friend Kuda's life

One of the Brandons had to go to another job before lunch so I packed the guys in my car again and headed to Oshawa, making drops along the way, before I hit up the local No Frills for some groceries.

That's when I saw the couple arguing in the produce section. He was early 30s; his wife a few years younger, and they were obviously from somewhere in the Middle East. She was clearly choosing the wrong vegetables, because he was jabbing a finger in her face and talking sharply to her.

And then he hit her. Just drew back in a crowded grocery store and hit his wife in the face with the side of his hand.

Now, I'm not now nor have ever been a tough guy, and my younger days were littered with moments when action was required but I stood frozen; unable to make a decision.

But I had to say something.

"Hey-Hey-Hey-HEY-HEY-HEY!

That's more or less what I shouted,  attracting the attention of everyone in the produce section, as well as the husband, who by this time was thirty feet away and almost around the corner.

We locked eyes and I gave him the evil stare-down for three or four seconds before he broke it off and they disappeared into the next aisle.

A woman approached me while I was standing there - still in shock at what I saw and still seething with anger - and said she saw what happened and was glad someone spoke up.

That made me feel good. But I'm not going to pretend I made much of a difference in the young woman's life. I hope what I did made her husband at least stop and think about his actions, and more importantly, if this incident empowers his wife in any way to understand that what happened in the grocery store that morning was abuse and is not accepted, then even better.

Still, I worry.

I spent the next few hours trying to calm down and write my blog but I made very little progress (I would finish it the next day) before shutting down my laptop and heading out to run my errands.

The legendary Four Corners APA and Brave New World IPA was in the fridge, so I hit up Town Brewery for the beer but the haircut would have to wait until the next day as every hair cut place in the city closed at 6 on Saturdays.

I guess I should have known that.

So shortly after six-thirty I stopped in at Buster's for a beer.

Shanice was behind the bar and Alex, the restaurant's general manager, was there as well, so we chatted for a few minutes while I sipped on a Karma Citra IPA. And then Alex asked me if I would join him outside for a smoke.

I don't smoke and Alex knows that so I figured something was up and when we were around the corner from the front doors he gave me the news.

"I wanted you to hear this before you see it on social media," he explained, as my ears and antennae both sprang to attention. "Buster Rhino's is closing."

My local, my second home (almost), my former place of employment and the home base for most of my friends in this world, was shutting down. In two weeks.

I was gobsmacked.

Buster Rhino's boss Darryl Koster

Alex said Darryl, that polished, profound and pragmatic proprietor of Buster's, had decided to consolidate his efforts in Whitby, home of the original Buster Rhino's and the site of his production facility, where the meat is smoked and his other products - rubs and spices, jerky, pig candy, pork rinds, etc - are created and marketed for his retail customers.

I would see Darryl the next day and a few other times over this past week and he would provide more details on his decision - fodder for a future blog - but the shock still hasn't worn off.

It was a business decision and I understand it was Darryl's right to make that decision, and I also know there will be a few parties before the bar closes its doors for good on October 14.

Still. Gobsmacked.

And a capper on a not at all boring day.

Cheers!

Polk, Erin & John and Mark highlight OBAs

After getting to know Robert Arseneault, AKA Drunk Polkeroo, for the better part of two years there's one thing I have learned: he wanted to win the Golden Tap Award for Ontario's Best Beer Writer more than anything.

Okay, maybe not more than delivering straight-up honesty every day in his videos, his poetry, his blogs and his numerous posts on various social media platforms.

But after that, he really, really loved the idea of winning a Golden Tap.

Now that I think about it, I realize Polk would rather be known for spreading the message that  you should drink - and do - whatever makes you happy, and not be shamed by other people's opinions on what  'good' beer is.

When you win a Golden Tap Award,
you never let it go, even if it
means cuddling with it at night.
Wouldn't you?

After that, his desire to win that elusive Golden Tap is at the top. For sure.

Though there is his love for the craft beer community as well, not to mention his passion for telling his stories about that community. There's also his willingness to talk openly about his own foibles.

And I haven't even mentioned his love for Kathryn, AKA Mrs. Polkeroo, his partner in life and in beer and an amazing soul herself.

But after that ...

Never mind. I think was ME who really, really wanted Polk to win the Golden Tap for Best Beer Writer in Ontario. Polk? He's just happy spreading the good word about craft beer.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that after four years of ironclad control of the award by Ben Johnson, the 2018 Golden Tap winner for Best Beer Writer in Ontario - as voted by fans - was awarded to my pal Robert, forever known in Ontario's craft beer community as the Drunk Polkeroo.

I wish I was there that night, but my Beer Bro Don was in attendance, and he said the place "went ballistic" when Polk's name was announced. "People went absolutely nuts."

Polk was an absolutely deserving winner, and that's no slight to Ben, who is a communications specialist by day and a damn good journalist all the other hours.

Robin LeBlanc (The Thirsty Wench) with
Erin and John

Both writers are not afraid to delve into subjects others dare to tread, but while Ben is more of a hard-hitting, angry beer writer type, Polk takes us on a journey to the dark places of his past and to the happy places that make up his present and future in the world of craft beer.

We are all the better for it.

Congratulations to Polk, my brother in beer.

*

Speaking of awesome and amazing people in the craft beer community, I bring you Erin Broadfoot and John Henley, the people behind Little Beasts Brewing in Whitby.

They've been up and running less than a year but have already built up a solid fan base with their eclectic lineup of Sours, Saisons, Stouts and super tasty IPAs.

No doubt the popularity of the little brewery in Whitby's industrial south-east corner is also due to the personalities of the operators. Erin is - and I've said this before - one of the nicest people in beer, with her ever-present smile and positive attitude attracting plenty of love from her customers.

Just for fun she likes to climb obstacles and crawl through mud as a Tough Mudder competitor (and spokesperson), so she has that going for her too.

John, the quieter of the two, is cut from the same cloth - except for the crawling through the mud part. But both have overcome obstacles to get Little Beasts off the ground and they were rewarded with two gold medals - only Wellington and Cameron's breweries won more - at the Ontario Brewing Awards (held in conjunction with the Golden Taps).

The judges determined Changeling (Peach and Apricot), a delicious fruit Sour; and La Saison d'hiver, their winter seasonal Saison; were the most deserving winners in the Fruit Beer and Belgian-style Dubbel categories, respectively.

Polk, Mark and my pal Don at the 2018 OBAs

Cooler still, Little Beasts took home a Golden Tap Award: Best New Brewery.

Erin said she was "blown away" by all the awards and the support from Ontario beer drinkers. It's a lot of hard work in running a brewery, she pointed out, but recognition from brewers and beer drinkers alike "definitely makes it a little more worth it."

Honours very much deserved.

*

Brock Street Brewing, the Best Newcomer winner at the 2016 OBAs, had a pretty big night as well, earning three medals, including one of each colour.

Their Bohemian Pilsner took top top honours in the ... uh ...Bohemian Pilsner category, while the judges deemed the brewery's Chocolate Milk Stout the second best Milk Stout in Ontario. Bronze in the Herb/Spice Beer category was awarded to Brock Street's Hibiscus Belgian Wit.

I don't get out to Brock Street very often - something that could be said about a lot of excellent breweries - but I'll never forget the VIP treatment we received from brewery co-owner Mark Woitzik during our Whitby Brewery Takeover last December.

That could have been because we had my pal Josh (who was part of Brock Street's entourage at the OBAs) with us on the trip, as my carpenter son from another father (Hey Tim!) has worked on a bunch of projects for Mark and Brock Street, notably the pop-up bar the brewery operated at the Oshawa Centre last Christmas season.

Josh, who shares a birthday with me,
shows off Brock Street Brewing's
medal haul

Or we got the treatment because Mark is an absolute peach of a guy, one who has even bigger things in store for 2019 with the opening of their brand new 17,000 square-foot production facility, tap room and banquet facility that I expect will transform downtown Whitby.

Look for big things from these guys.

*

Brock Street wasn't the only local brewery to medal at the OBAs. Second Wedge of Uxbridge scored a gold medal for Rain maker, their excellent Porter, and a bronze in the Altbier category for Monday Night Piper.

Newcomer Chronicle Brewing of Bowmanville won gold as well (in the Dark IPA category), wowing the judges with their brilliantly named Super Dank Osborne Black IPA. Old Flame, meanwhile scored three medals - all bronze - for their Blonde (Standard Lager), Red (Amber Lager) and for Scary Mary, which earned a third place plaque in the highly prestigious (to me) Imperial IPA category.

For the record, the top IPA was Hazed and Confused from Muskoka, while Immodest (Nickel Brook) was the top Imperial IPA and Elora Brewing's Borealis Citra Pale Ale took the top prize for American Pale Ales.

Rounding out the rest of the Golden Taps, Beau's was named Best Brewery and their Lug Tread was named top regularly produced beer. Karma Citra (Great Lakes) was voted as the best seasonal beer, while Collective Arts won for best label art and was awarded an Editor's Circle Award for their Liquid Arts Festival.

Bellwoods was named Best Brewpub.

Cheers!