Trevor! Trevor! Trevor! and other Christmas stories
When Facebook told me it was my pal Trevor's birthday, I naturally wished him the best.
As it was December 17. I also asked him if was coming home for the holidays so we could have a drink together.
"I'm here now," he said from Bowmanville. "Let's have that beer."
As luck would have it, we were both already going to the Village Inn in Bowmanville that evening. I to see my friends Matt and Jessica at the pub's Christmas party, and Trevor, because if there is a party in Bowmanville, this man knows about it.
So that was easy.
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| Trevor! and me |
Trevor, formerly known as the World's Sexiest Cellarman when he was working for Manantler Brewing, has been living in the Vancouver area since the spring. Most of that time has been spent at Russell Brewing, where he reprised his role as Cellarman-Supreme on the Left Coast.
As I soon discovered, he has moved on to Parallel 49, a brewery located just off Hastings Street in Vancouver's notorious east end. This time, he's a packaging specialist, which meant he needed a new nickname.
Sexiest Bottler? Coolest guy on the west coast/east side? Sexiest packager? Uh, a hard no to that one. I'll think of something. For now, I'll just call him Trevor.
Anyway, I learned a few things about his neighbourhood. which is just a hop, skip and a jump east of Vancouver's Downtown Eastside, which is many things, including a huge open-air drug market.
Don't bother them and they won't bother you, has been Trevor's mantra on his travels through the area, and that philosophy has served him well.
The brewery itself, named after the boundary between Canada and the United States through most of western Canada, has been around for nearly six years, and markets just one beer here in the LCBO: Ruby Tears, a red ale, which I confess I have never tried.
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Matt hard at work in the most Christmasy of all Christmas
sweaters. I mean, look at that awesome sweater! |
But they produce a whole range of delicious beers for their B.C. base, including some with tres cool names. There's Filthy Dirty IPA, Jerkface 9000 Wheat Ale, Wobbly Pop Pale Ale (why hasn't someone come up with this before?), Trash Panda Hazy IPA and Rye the Long Face Imperial Rye IPA.
With all those IPAs, it sounds like a brewery right up my alley. Or, as Trevor would say, Glenncore. "Totally Glenncore."
Anyway, we got caught up, I forgot to bring the bottle of Dr. Juice IIPA from 5 Paddles I promised him (I forgot Matt and Jessica's gift as well, but that breach in protocol was remedied a few days later) and he's gone now, back to Lotus Land.
Oh well. That gives me more time to come up with a new nickname for him.
Christmas Day in the Shwa
Despite a decade in the snow removal business, I rarely shovel my own driveway.
My landlords over the years can attest to that.
But there's a good reason for this apparent shirking of community responsibility:
By the time I get back from a big storm that took my team 10, 12 hours to conquer, my driveway has been plowed/shovelled/blown off by someone else. But on Christmas Day, I finally got to do my own driveway.
Truth is, I was bored. I wasn't getting my son until the afternoon so my Christmas was delayed. And I couldn't sleep, so what the hell, I said, and grabbed my trusty shovel and cleared the driveway my four-plex shares with the tenants next door.
My reward? I walked down to the local Circle K (one of the few stores open on the holiday) to buy a few lottery tickets Santa forgot to include in my stocking and to buy some milk, so I could spend the rest of Christmas Day getting slowly sloshed on Panama Jack Brown Cows.
Hey - there's more to me than just IPAs, you know.
Bonding with Rocky
Considering I've been divorced for more than six years, I spent an awful lot of time at my ex's place over the holidays.
It started on Christmas Day when I picked up Jake and dropped off a giant box that once contained a gaming chair, the J Man's gift.
"It's for Rocky," I said partly in jest. All cats love boxes right?"
I, of course, simply wanted to be rid of a giant box that wasn't going to fit in my recycling container, but let's not tell her that, okay?
I was back the next day for Boxing Day, because Christian-Ann and Frank had volunteered their house for our family's Christmas get-together.
(Lovely time, by the way. I don't get to see my children and my grandkids as often as I'd like, so these occasions are always special.)
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| Rocky enjoying his new home |
And where was I the following weekend? At the ex's place. House-sitting on my weekend with Jake because Christian and Frank were away for the weekend and can you feed Rocky for us?
Sure, no problem. "And change his litter too? (sigh) Can-do!
So on the pre-New Year's weekend I was catching up on sports on TV (I have no television at home) and bonding with Jake's kitty-cat.
And in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I got up for a 2 a.m. pee and damned near killed myself when I slipped in the dark on cat puke in the middle of the kitchen.
And then I very nearly pulled three muscles and my ego trying to lift my leg into the bathroom sink so I could clean my foot off.
It's a good thing you're adorable Rocky.
On New Year's Day I was back, this time to pick up Jake and my oldest son Matt for our annual New Year's turkey dinner at my mom and dad's place in Toronto.
And there was the box, front and centre in the living room. Frank had cut out some holes and lined the bottom with a warm blanket.
Merry Christmas Rocky. You are forgiven.
The quest for a Canadian Breakfast (Stout)
When I heard about Founders Brewery releasing Canadian Breakfast Stout in the LCBO, I have to say I was a bit excited.
I've always been a fan of Founders, a Grand Rapids, Michigan-based brewery that has long been one of the world's best-rated breweries, even after Spanish brewing giant Mahou-San Miguel took a 30 per cent stake in the company three years ago.
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Canadian Breakfast Stout
from Founders Brewery |
All Day IPA was the first Session IPA I ever drank and Centennial IPA is a must-buy whenever I make a border run for beer.
But the company's reputation was really made by their Imperial Stouts and in particular their barrel-aged beers, which almost never show up on this side of the border.
But one good takeaway from a brewery taking gobs of money from a macro is increased distribution, and Founders beers are now a common sight in Ontario.
But Canadian Breakfast Stout, or CBS as its known to its fans, that's another story entirely, especially since it hadn't been brewed since 2011.
And it had a Mountie on the label. I had to get me some.
But, when it comes to this sort of thing, you snooze, you lose. None of my local liquor stores had ordered it, and within a day it was all gone in the Toronto outlets I could get to.
Damn.
A couple days later I checked out the LCBO's search engine (for the umpteenth time) and found a few precious bottles at the store just down the street from my parent's house in Toronto's west end Downsview neighbourhood. And I was on the phone with my dad quickly, if not sooner.
"Dad, you wonderful man," I said, hoping the love and affection (and not the desperation) would travel well across the phone lines. "Could you pop down to your liquor story and pick me up a few beers?"
I was honest and told him the beers were $8.50 for each 355 ml bottle. He, in turn, was also honest. "I'm sending your brother down to get them."
And big brother Brian did just that, buying me a four-pack of Canadian Breakfast Stout.
Patience was then required, as I wouldn't be making the trip to the city until a week later, at our New Year's Day gathering. And patience was employed then as well, as I didn't have the beer in my hands until more than an hour after my arrival.
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| Mom |
I learned from Brian how the shipment to the local LCBO outlet in the plaza - the smallest and least modern for many miles, I'm sure - was a happy accident. The store's first shipment arrived with much fanfare and the shelves emptied within hours, and the store's Beer Guy told Brian customers were pleading with staff to "save me two; save me four."
The second shipment was either a bonus or a mistake and came "out of the blue," our friendly Beer Guy added, and the shelves were still heavy with CBS when my brother arrived, "because no one knows it's here."
Yeah, I got lucky.
So I shared the first bottle with my family. My Dad, Brian, my Mom, who, at 84, is getting more adorable each day, all liked it. Mom even pronounced it easy drinking (it's 11.7 per cent!) and didn't want to let go of the glass.
Easy there, Mom. We all have to share.
Brian picked up on the bourbon flavours immediately, but I had to agree with my mother: the booze was hidden very well. Lots of coffee and chocolate on the tongue but the biggest takeaway I got from this beer was the texture. It was super smooth. Velvety smooth in fact.
Was it worth all the hype and the exorbitant price tag? Maybe not, but it was damn good and what price can you put on a beer that can be shared with your loving family?
That's priceless, mate.
