Friday, April 29, 2011

Dear Songs about Friday: "Bowl" does not rhyme with "Cereal"

First things first. Pray, gaze upon the compelling magnificence that Dan hath wrought:
Truly, this is my Ozymandias moment; when only lone and level sands stretch far away, this crude MSPaint of an elderly gentleman wearing lipstick and holding a bottle of beer that you can no longer get will remind all of the faded glory that was once Yet Another Damn Beer Blog: the Blog that says, "Look on my drinking habits, ye liver health specialists, and despair."

Anyway, after the immense response to my recent Girls Who Drink Beer Rule posting, I certainly wasn't about to let an event like the Smokin Cherry Bomb Saison cask at Clive's Classic slip past. The Missus and I bounded in there around 6ish.
Now, I know Ian will probably disagree with me on this, the cantankerous bastard, but I was a trifle let-down by this brew. Mrs. Damnbeerblogger didn't even finish hers, and she quite ruined it for the rest of the table by mentioning band-aids, which made every mouthful taste like Flinstone's sticking plasters. Of course, then it warmed up a little and you could navigate your way through the smoke to the more interesting flavours, but I warn you, smoked beers are not going to be everyone's bag.

Still, I'm firmly planted up to my withers in the "Any new beer is a good beer" camp, and recognizing that you should never take advice on Saisons from me, as I'm not a fan of the whole tulip-glassed fiddle-faddle, I think the consensus was, "Interesting, but not for everyone." Certainly I would be first in line to taste another collaborative brew from these fine ladies, assuming that I haven't been beaten to death by a pink wellie for saying something inappropriate.

Anyhoo, off to Veneto's for some duck poutine.

Some more poutine, should say. Any time Dave is in the vicinity, poutine happens. And I'm fine with that. As a side note, he's the worst restaurant companion ever if you don't like poutine, as that will inevitably be the only thing he's had on the menu when you ask for recommendations.

I had a Hilde on tap, Mrs. Damnbeerblogger had this.

It's half-and-half White Bark and Nut Brown, and we alternately called it the Brown Bark or the Nut Tree. It actually wasn't half-bad, although the purists out there have probably self-combusted into the squeaky froth-mouthed rage of a pug savaging a tube of toothpaste.

I like that the Wifelet is always mixing beers and being experimental. Too often, the brewing community gets up their own lower-intestinal-tract a bit. Beer is fun! Beer is mixing things together and seeing what happens! Sometimes you get band-aids, sometimes you get Belle Royale.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Girls Who Drink Beer Rule. The End.

There are a number of reasons that I fell in love with and married my wife. Chief among them, she'd have me.
But there's more than just this bizarre blind spot to an otherwise entirely intelligent person. Wifelet is funny, brilliant, musical, highly-organized, sensitive, sweet-natured, cute, athletic, environmentally-conscious and smart. I'm just ginger. She smells good, she learned to drive stick so we wouldn't have to buy a boring automatic-transmission when we downsized to one vehicle, and guess what? She drinks beer.

One evening last week, I was sitting here surfing the internet randomly and looked up when she said, "Oh wow, this is really interesting!"

"What's that?"

"This Singularity I bought."


There are many things that make a woman attractive to me. Firstly, yoga pants. Sweet baby Jeebus, Chip Wilson may have turned out to be a heartless business-person who sold out as fast as he could, but that man single-handedly accomplished the greatest leg-related service to mankind since that one guy cured polio.

More important than that though, is a woman who's real. Women who drink craft beer aren't your high-maintenance, gold-diggin', big-lipped white-wine-spritzer-sippin' botoxers. They're also not your bubble-headed Smirnoff cooler types. The ladies of craft beer aren't chicks, broads, or dames: they're women, and they're sexy as Hell.

So what do you bring home when your lady is more about stouts than fur stoles? Why, chocolate of course.
This is Southern Tier's Choklat Imperial Stout, and it's immense. It's also not just for me, it's for the Wifelet too. She likes beers a little different from my usual hop-heavy Super-IPAs. This one's no wimp though: 11% ABV and pure chocolate. The pairing? A Marks&Sparks almond shortbread biscuit. Unbelievable.
Oh, and if you're wondering, this brew is only available at The Strath. Follow Lon on twitter, he's got great selection.

It's my opinion that the success of CAMRA-YVR is due in no small part to the number of double-X chromosomes on the executive. Clive's boasts an all-female-brewer collaborative brew, Smokin' Cherry Bomb Saison, coming up on the 28th of this month. Hit up any craft-beer location and you'll see just as many women as bearded hipsters. It's just more proof that it's a great time to be a craft beer enthusiast in BC.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Another Damn Earth Day

Save the Earth. It's the only planet with beer.
Today is Earth day, a time when you're supposed to show your sensitivity to Mother Gaia by possibly not taking the Hummer to KFC until tomorrow. It's a time to think globally by acting locally, cut down on your greenhouse gas emissions and use organic Viagra instead of powdered Sumatran orang-utan scrotum.

I did my part. First, I left the car at home when I went grocery shopping. Secondly, I bought a nice organic Berkshire roast from a local farm, rather than lamb flown all the way from New Zealand. Thirdly, I passed a cow and, remembering that 14% of all greenhouse gas emissions come from methane-producing bovines, I punched it in its stupid, Earth-hating face.

Okay PETA-types, calm down, I didn't hurt Daisy one bit. But I did lock gazes with her and give her a really dirty look, which was bloody hard, what with cows not having stereoscopic vision. Gave me a headache.

Then, judging that I'd accomplished a suitable level of self-righteous do-goodery, I went and had a beer.

Unlike my other passion, the horseless motor-carriage, it is possible to enjoy a beer on Earth Day and feel completely guiltless for doing so. Unless you're a neurosurgeon or something. Beer, or at least good beer, is always made from all-natural products, and unless you're quaffing something with Papaya blended into it, almost all the ingredients can be sourced locally.

Organic beer? Well, that's nice, if you can get it, but USDA Organic certification is a bit of a con if you ask me. I'd rather have BC-grown carrots out of somebody's farm than Organic-certified produce flown up from California. First Local, then Organic, and then if you can't get any of that, the stuff that glows in the dark and tastes of bisphenol A.
I can think of no better paragon of locally-sourced, Earth Friendly brewing practices than Driftwood Brewing's Cuvee D'Hiver, which I enjoyed at Tres Fantastico. The restaurant/bistro/cafe was a short 10-minute bike-ride, the brewery's local (3 km away), and all the barley that went into the beer was grown and malted locally on the Saanich Peninsula.

Tres Fantastico is a great little place: you can read my Yelp review here. The beers were served at cellar temp, which opened up the fruity, grassy nature of the brew. Pairing was a very reasonable and delicious local charcuterie plate, but what really made the D'Hiver work this time was the gorgeous sunny day.

Last time I had the D'Hiver, it was a battleship-grey day with curtains of freezing rain sweeping across a sullen landscape of brown and browner. The effervescent, light and summery nature of the Saison seemed somehow out-of-place, like a a Viking in a sun-dress. Today though, Mother Nature smiled on my efforts to stop repeatedly pillaging her by rewarding me (and all #yyj peeps) with a sun-drenched hint of summer to come. Suddenly, the Viking was some flouncy Scandinavian princess, and the pigtails started making much more sense. What the hell am I talking about again? Oh right, beer.

Driftwood Brewing's Cuvee D'Hiver
Recommended if:
-Sexy Viking
-It's a summery day out
-You like a milder saison

Not Recommended if:
-Shave your legs, Snorri
-You want Deckhand-sized intensity
-It's raining. But then, it's Victoria after all. Just wait 5 minutes.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

New, But Any Damn Good? Granville Island Brewing Imperial IPA

The word "Imperial" gets tossed around a lot in beer circles these days. Imperial IPAs (okay), Imperial Bocks (fine), Imperial Oktoberfests (yes...), Imperial Pilsners (now hang on a sec-) and Imperial Hefeweizens (say what?) are all styles that have just sort of popped up over the last little while. The original "Imperial" designation, as all we pedantic beer-types know, was originally reserved to describe
stout porters brewed at high alcohol concentrations in 18th century Britain and shipped to the Russian Imperial court.

Nowadays, "Imperial" just means a stronger version of a style of beer that wasn't as strong before. Personally, I blame the communists.

As such, when @jantweats implies that an Imperial India Pale Ale is an "imperialization of an imperialization," he's not quite correct. Yes, you could point out that IPA was created to be shipped to India, and probably wouldn't exist if not for British Imperialism, but in the truest, stuffiest, hair-splittin'-est way, he's wrong. I know he's got a fancy, big-city newspaper column and what-not and I'm just a drunkard with a laptop, but this is the internet, chums, and guess who's got two thumbs, an opinion and no pants on.

This guy right here.
Anyway, just sticking "Imperial" in front of something doesn't necessarily make it better. For example, if you take a regular, battle-hardened Stormtrooper with nerves of steel, intensive weapons training and killer instincts and then go and make them an Imperial Storm trooper, they will be unable to hit a eight-foot tall Kokanee Sasquatch with fully automatic blaster fire, and then get shot in the face by a lady with two cinnabons taped to her head.

What's more, brewing an Imperial IPA is not like suddenly coming out with an Imperial version of, say, an ESB, for which there're not a lot of yardsticks out there against which you might be measured. Bring out an Imperial IPA and you'd best be ready to bear comparison against almost every other brewery out there. So, Granville Island Brewing, do you have what it takes?

Yes. Damn it! I'm not very good at this suspense thing. But, quite frankly, this is a very good beer, probably even nicer than I was expecting.
GIB is, like Vancouver Island Brewing and others, a bit more conservative in its styles than some of the young breweries out there. There's a wide base of appeal for its microbrew and they maintain said customer base by producing beers that are consistent, and delicious, but by no means challenging. I mean, I like Brockton IPA, but it's not really a beer that I would seek out. I'd choose it over, for instance, Beacon IPA if given the choice, but if Red Racer, Fat Tug or Hop Circle are available, then guess what I'm ordering.

So I wasn't expecting a challenger to Southern Tier's Un*Earthly Imperial IPA, and I didn't get one. What I did get was a smooth, very balanced beer with big citrus tones and caramel malts. Just lovely. There's apparently 100 IBUs here, but don't let that scare you, oh knock-knee'd lager-lout, this is such a well-crafted brew, you don't need to be anything like a hop-head to appreciate it. It's a single-varietal (all chinook) and that seems to have eliminated the "bag o' grass clippings" chewiness you get from some of the Yankee IIPAs. I give it four and a half out of five moons. Wait, that's no moon!
Granville Island Imperial India Pale Ale:
Recommended if:
-You're looking for a great beer. Simple as that.
-You favour balance over outright intensity.
-You've got a case of Brockton in your hand and you're staring at the 650ml section.

Not Recommended if:
-You're a little short for a Stormtrooper.
-You're not an IPA fan.
-You use your lawnmower to make salad.

Friday, April 15, 2011

YADBB Asks: What's Your Playoff Beer?

Am I a Canucks fan? Um, are they winning? Then yes.
Only joking.

But despite the fact that I've met a certain Finnish 'Nuck and found him to be a down-to-earth, regular sorta guy throughout our dealings, I wouldn't say I was a slavering, glass-eyed crazy hockey fan, up until we hit the playoffs and somebody feeds methamphetamines to the donkey pulling the band-wagon. Go Canucks Go!

But maybe you cheer for another team, and that's just fine. Except if it's the Leafs. Or (currently) the Blackhawks. Rooting for the hometeam in a pub crowded with like-minded fans is as much a part of the playoffs as is drinking copious amounts of beer while doing so.

Here's what's turning out to be my official 2011 Playoff Beer. It's a lager, quaffable and delicious. Not even slightly challenging by any means, but when you're standing at the bar for three periods (and maybe overtime) it's nice to have a swigging beer as a change from the hop-heavy IPAs and thundering Imperial Stouts. Not that I don't drink them with hockey too.
I'd sooner drink Zamboni leavings than touch a "lite" beer, but Lighthouse Lager is a nice solid drinker, especially when you can get it on tap. I'm sure the hop-heads will turn up their noses, but five pints of Fat Tug is a recipe for comically walking into a lampost while stumbling home.

Plus, sometimes you just want a lager. Sometimes you're in the mood for a beer that matches nicely with the opiate of the Canadian masses. I like to give bigger beers the full attention they deserve, or perhaps chat over 'em with a like-minded beerthusiast, but this beer ain't high-maintenance. It's perhaps a bit overly fizzy, but it doesn't have the cloying taste of a Molson or a Labatt product. It's just beer with a nice clean finish, and that's what I felt like today.

So Yet Another Damn Beer Blog wants to know: what do you usually pick out for the big game? Something new everytime, a constant favourite, something special out of the cellar, or just a pint of ol' reliable down at the local? Post it in the comments!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Hot Damn of the Week: Phillips Double Barrel Scotch Ale

'Twas with slavering visage and drooly appearance that I bounded into the Quadra location of @CascadiaLiq yesterday afternoon. Why so? Well, lads and lassies, I'd just been informed through the interwebby application known as "twitter" that a new Phillips seasonal firearm had just been released: t' double barrel.

Something I really love about Phillips is how often they put out their seasonals. Don't love the current crop of bombers? Just wait five minutes. It's exactly like Victoria's fast-forward bi-polar weather systems.

This brew was one I was eagerly a-waitin' to cycle through again. It's a Scotch Ale that's been barrelled twice, first in bourbon barrels out of the Jack Daniels distillery and then in red wine barrels (merlot and cab-sav). The result is delicious oaky overtones added to the sweet malt-bomb.

Take this as a compliment Phillips brewers, but if I were blind taste-testing this, I'd instantly know it was a Phillips product. It tastes the way the air outside their Government Street brewery smells. Which is a good thing.

The interesting thing here is how little oak there is in the nose: it's all a big wallop that smacks you in the palate on first sip. Big, cream-soda and caramel malts blend nicely with the woodiness and hide the slightly higher alcohol content.
Worth tracking down and sharing with a friend. Or you could poison it and give it to your mortal enemy. Ian.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Battle Royale No 6: You Musn't Call a Ginger "Ginger" Unless You're Ginger

Last night found me attending a rather ill-advised bocconcini-off.
What is a bocconcini-off, you ask (and well you may)? Well, apart from the obvious answer -a blind taste-test to determine which brand of bocconcini is best- a bocconcini-off is mostly a Really Bad Idea. I consumed so much squishy white cheese that, despite the fact that I am normally 100% lactose tolerant, my lower intestine rapidly turned into a some sort of noisy, anti-cheese Nuremburg Rally. I think my duodenum grew a little toothbrush moustache.

But then it occurred to me (in-between bouts of explosive flatus not dissimilar to the cannonfire of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture) that I had it coming for assaying cheese and not doing my real job: I've been very lax in the beer-judging department. In between fiddling about with ridiculous sandwiches and forging letters from the Craft Brewers of BC to fool hair-band enthusiasts, I've not bothered to put a Battle Royale together for a month. For shame.

As such, various other blogs (I'm looking at you, Dave) have surged in to take advantage with three-way battles, sneers at Alexander Keith, and crappy MS-Paint illustrations. Hey! You ain't heard? I'm the damn Mayor McCheese of crappy MS-Paint-town, so all you Fry-guys can take a seat.

It's about to get all ginger up in this bitch.

Actually, I mean that quite literally: this time, ginger-laced beers go head to head.

Now, "ginger" is a word that might have many negative connotations for some. After all, and thanks to Trey Parker and Matt Stone for pointing this out, we have no souls. Also, we tend to catch fire in direct sunlight, so some might think being ginger is a bit like being a vampire.

It's not. Vampires are pansies.

Vampires own fey little Volvo hatchbacks and wear eyeliner and drive around chasing after bony, hatchet-faced little emo-girls who are actually lusting after shirtless, back-waxing werewolves anyway. Ginger people do things like slide face-first down a bobsleigh track on about 2/3rds of a toboggan, win a gold medal and then drink an entire pitcher of beer. Also, we tend to be vikings. Put that in your cape and smoke it.

So ginger beer has a lot to live up to. It can't be some lame, pink-colored, semi-gingery light beer like the kind that would be made with the shavings accompanying mediocre sushi. No, it should be fiery and intense and have little pigtails like Pippi Longstocking.

Okay, not that last part, but it better be more Reed's than Canada Dry, and it should bring the heat in a way that would make Gimli sputter and drop his axe on his foot.
Phillips Ginger Ale vs. Hitachino Nest Real Ginger Beer

Round 1: Fight!
At first pour, foreshadowing indicates that this won't be a contest of equals. The Phillips offering might be one shade darker than their Phoenix Lager, but it pales next to the murky, reddish turbidity of the Hitachino Nest. Based purely on colour, the Japanese Real Ginger Ale should have more root.

...But it doesn't. Not even close. As expected, there's a fuller malt character in the Hitachino Nest but as for ginger, well, it's scarcer than thrilling speeches in a Canadian Election. The Phillips, on the other hand, has more ginger than a Canadian Election has long boring speeches. I think that metaphor worked out rather nicely.

It might not be everyone's brew-addling agent of choice, but the ginger in the Phillips brings a nice added heat to the finish, and of course colours the nose immensely. The Hitachino Nest is extremely reserved by comparison.

Round 2: Fight!
The food pairing for ginger beer is pretty damn obvious: sushi. Where to get good sushi on Vancouver Island is another issue. If you're in Vancouver, reach down and pick up a rock. Good, now close your eyes, spin around three times and throw it as hard as you can. Hear that outraged scream? That's a world-class sushi chef you just provided with a broken nose.

In Victoria, it's not quite so easy. You can actually get pretty reasonable sushi at Thrifty's, but a lot of the other take out places are a bit more expensive. Our favourite is Fujiya, a full-on authentic Japanese food-store.

You'd think Japanese snack food would swing the pendulum towards Hitachino Nest's offering, but the spicy tuna roll and Phillip's Ginger Beer waltz together like Godzilla vs. Mothra: the sex-tape. Wait, that's gross.

What I mean to say is that the Phillips actually seems better suited for pairing with the sushi, given the fact that it actually smells and tastes of ginger. No need for round 3.


Phillips takes the win for the home-town team!

Post-Battle Review:

Like Tim Minchin says, "You mustn't call a ginger 'ginger' unless you're ginger." In that case, is the Hitachino nest really qualified to go flinging the epithet around? Barely. It certainly carries a fuller, maltier body, but if you're on the hunt for something with a little more punch, try Phillip's version instead.

Phillips Ginger Beer
Recommended if:
-you're already a Phillips fan
-you're looking for a nice pairing with some nigiri sushi
-you're Gilligan

Not Recommended if:
-you're a pasty little vampire with a silly haircut
-you can't handle a beer with a little heat
-you're Eric Cartman

Hitachino Nest Real Ginger Ale
Recommended if:
-you're an out-and-out Japanophile
-you're looking for a bit less bite and a bit more malt
-you're an owl

Not recommended if:
-you're looking for the gingeriest of the ginger beers
-you need a bigger bottle
-your head is the same shape as the guy on the label. Because then you should go see a doctor. Like right now.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Barleywine, Best Bitter and a Barrel of ESB.

This is a Woolly Bugger.
So is this.
And so is this, Howe Sound Brewing's Woolly Bugger Barleywine.

For those of you not aware, Barleywine is a style of beer that's usually high-alcohol, high-intensity, and with a specific gravity resembling that of the core of a gas giant. For many beerthusiasts, it's the Holy Grail of beer because you can cellar it much like you would a fine wine, thus giving you ammunition against sniffy oenophiles who might look down their nose at you when you bump into them at the till.

But then, we beerthusiasts have many Holy Grails. Honestly, it's like Crazy Pope Benedict IX's holy relic fire sale around here. You've got your fresh harvest ales, your sour ales, your giant biblically named bottles (jeroboam and up), your double and triple IPAs and then there's the scramble to touch your cup to any cask that gets tapped like it was the pierced side of Jeebus.

Anyways, lets leave the Woolly Bugger for a mo' and talk about the re-jigging of Moon Under Water's excellent beers.

Moon Under Water is a nice place to visit. That may sound like a bit of a low-powered compliment, but it's true: it's a nice, warm pub without the cacophonic clatter you normally find at your usual happenin' joint. I'm pleased to report that whatever fiddling they did with the Blue Moon Best Bitter enhanced the malts a bit, but left it still a comforting, companion-like beer that's the perfect partner to a heaping helping of toad-in-the-hole. I hope this doesn't offend the brewer in any way, but he's basically created beer slippers.
And you can now take it home. Unlike hoppier, punchier beers like Driftwood's Fat Tug IPA, Blue Moon loses little (if anything) in the bottle, and it should quickly become a fridge staple.

Speaking of Driftwood, I very nearly missed their Naughty Hildegard cask at the Beagle yesterday. The usual work-related SNAFUs saw me race in, grab a pint and then scurry out.
Driftwood does nothing to their casks other than just take them off the main tank, but there is a subtle difference when compared to their bottles, so I was curious to see if Hilde's character was any different fresh out of the convent, so to speak. If anything, she's a bit milder, but I have to say, I miss last year's floral nose-bomb a bit. On cask, I bet it'd rival Sartori.

But anyway, back to the Woolly Bugger. It's a tiny bottle, just big enough to share, the perfect ending to a day no fish would die.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

10 Reasons Victoria is a Kick-Ass Beer Town: #4 Cook Street Liquor

You know, I'd nearly forgotten I was doing this top 10 Victoria thing. Some of you might think I have ADD or be easily distracted, but really it's - oh hey look a blue car!

Sorry, where were we? Ah yes, the little gem of a store that is Cook Street Liquor.

Anyway, last night I got the hankering for some liquid bread, so I hurried forthwith to my local purveyor of fine bevvies to negotiate the purchasing of some beery comestibles. Or: Beer Run!

Now, if you've got half a brain, then you already follow @BCLiquorguys on twitter. But you might have less than half a brain, in which case, thanks for reading, Mr. Harper. Either way, check 'em out for the latest in coming attractions. In particular I have it on good authority that a buncha Baird beer out of Japan is starting to trickle in: Angry Boy Brown and Kurofune Porter are excellent.
Admittedly, the storefront is about as exciting as a PBS show on grain elevators, but as we all learned in kindergarten, it's what's inside that counts. And as we all learned in high school, if what's inside is beer, then that's AWESOME.
The Cook Street Liquor store is about the size of a Playmobil house, but it somehow manages to pack in quite the selection. Best part is there's always something new. This little place has provided me with Un*Earthly, various Half-Pints, Barton Baton, Pretty Things, Hop Rod, and it's one of the first stops for the Driftwood delivery crew, so anything interesting from them shows up right away.

This eve I went for two solid beers from Russell Brewing.
Obviously, Black Death is better on tap if you can find it, and the IP'eh! is a nice little UK-style IPA. Which reminds me, Moon Under Water has updated their beers, must go try that.

To sum up: if you're lucky enough to live staggering distance from the Beagle, remember that Cook Street Liquor closes at 9 so maybe pick up something to tuck under your chair. Apparently they also have an excellent wine selection, if you're into that sort of thing. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

An Open Letter From BC's Craft Brewers To Adem Tepedelen

Dear so-called Brewtal so-called Truth,

"Stop being so timid and so apologetic". Oh yeah? So's your face! You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny, and you like bands who appear to be competing in a Joan-Jett-lookalike contest for drag queens. Also, we're not sorry.

Listen bub, beer-brewing ain't all lollipops and rainbows and gumdrop houses. Except maybe at Phillips. The real truth of brewing is the same as for any business: we're trying to produce a quality product and sell it in a market that's rapidly becoming more competitive every day.

We haven't needlessly been kowtowing to the masses, we've been selling beer! And then the Ralph Wiggums of the world go and vote Kokanee into a tie with Blue Buck. Let's face it, making craft beer is hard work.

Now granted, most of the time we're all extremely drunk at work, and there are other perks too, but you can't sit there and claim that we don't Bring It.

Crossover beers? How about Driftwood Singularity? There's a beer that will help you "cross-over." Into unconsciousness. Or how about Central City's Red Racer? We'd put that up against Sierra Nevada anytime. Hell, it'd go head to head more with their Torpedo Double! What about that new thing we've been doing at Lighthouse and Granville Island where we run an experimental line of bombers as well as the consistent favourites that get the brand message out?

We hear what you're saying about different and more extreme styles but you know what? There's a stomach for every pint out there, and the style you like might actually not work for someone else. Guess what? Lager tastes like lager! People like that about lager. If we make it with cranberries and goosefat and the droppings of reindeer that are fed on nothing but Palisades Hops and call it Christmas lager then (surprise surprise) it's not lager any more. We may occasionally be conservative, but we're still making a high quality beer.

Okay, so you and I know that what we really want is the beer equivalent of a guy in spray-on trousers playing a double-headed electric guitar that's shaped like a claymore. With his face. While we'll never knowingly brew a Kenny G or (God strike me dead if I tell a lie) a Nickleback type of beer, it's important to remember that taste is subjective and there's always going to be a few beers in every brewers lineup that don't shred as much as you'd like them to.

If we went balls-out every time and only brewed extreme beers, then never mind Sierra Nevada, we'd only be as successful as BrewDog or Stone Brewing, or Lagunitas.

Er... wait.


-BC Craft Brewers