In Which I Actually Make It To A Cask Event For Once

The previous two posts have been a bit Debbie Downer. So, let me surcease being a nittering nabob of negativism and wax ecstatic 'pon the great deal of fun I just had, thanks to the nice people of CAMRA Vancouver.

But first, a word about Dead Frog.

I got this at the 16th St liquor store, and while there's always something interesting there, take note that they don't have a lot of turn-over. In fact, you can git yo'self a bottle of Naughty Hildegaard, Spring Rite or even Cuvee D'Hiver, last I checked. So whither this comes in the Brewmaster's lineup, I know not.

But let me speak to the schizophrenic nature of this brewery. At best, its regular lineup is a local version of Sleeman's. At worst, its regular lineup is a local version of Sleeman's. If I wanted to drink Sleeman's, I would drink some damn Sleeman's.*

*Actually, if I felt like having a Sleeman's, I'd probably go for some retrograde phrenology and hit myself with a series of large mallets until I snapped out of it.


But as for the Brewmaster's Series, well, apart from the T-Pain label, they've all been quite good. Case in point: the Citra Hop Dead Frog. Scuttlebutt has it that there's a bit of a revolving door at Dead Frog, so the wide variety of styles in their Brewmaster's Series could possibly be due to there being a new Brewmaster every few months. However, I've done exactly zero research to ascertain whether this rumour has any truth behind it. I mention it here in the best traditions of TEH INTERNETS, where nobody is ever wrong about anything cough Wikipedia cough.

This hopped Pilsner is pretty good, and I even poured it into something other than my usual pint glass. 'Twas a hot day, and it went down like a torpedo'd Lusitania. Which is to say, quickly, and with a certain amount of North-Atlantic-like crisp refreshment.

But on to the cask event.

This was a last-minute attend for Mrs. Damnbeerblogger and self. Normally, we attempt some minor project on The House, and next thing you know we've spent all day installing skylights, flying buttresses and a moat. Happily though, a quick jaunt on the seabus had us in Gastown in a jiff.

Vancouver sure is beautiful from the water.

Any road, as it turns out, our memberships were lapsed, so we seized the opportunity to sign up, especially as I keep telling everyone I'm in CAMRA anyway. It's in my byline for the paper and everything.

Shout outs to @mikefarlane, @scorpiogirl and @vancitybeer, all of whom I now have put a face to the tweet-handle.

The beer.

Howe Sound Jack-Daniels Infused Imperial Pumpkin Ale:
-delicious!
-less brown-sugar flavour than last-year's (could be the Jack in the cask)

R&Bl Brewing Black Cherry Hefewiezen
-light and refreshing, the cherries are quite subtle
-second sip: man, R&B is underrated as a brewery

Red Racer Vodka-Soaked-Vanilla-Bean Infused Oatmeal Breakfast Stout
-That's a long name for a beer
-Oooh, but it's good
-The vanilla is pretty buried, it's almost a coffee stout
-Can't wait for cans of RR stout. Imperial?

Granville Island Brewing Bitter
-As usual, GIB's special fare is much better than the mainline beers (although I like those too)
-Nice and hoppy, and only 3.5%? Cool.

Driftwood 2010 Old Cellar Dweller:
-Okay Driftwood, THIS is why I was so hard on the Twenty Pounder. I struggle to think of anything even half as good as this stuff.

Also a cask of La Chouffe, but we gave that a miss, as we had to hurry back home. Altogether a great cask event, and we look forward to being able to attend more of these as The House becomes complete. Yeah, right.

Last, a quick word about Beer-Mixology, Mrs. Damnbeerblogger's speciality.

Here's something she whipped up at the event: a blend of the Howe Sound and the Red Racer.

This would then be a Jack-Daniels Infused Imperial Pumpkin Vodka-Soaked-Vanilla-Bean Infused Oatmeal Breakfast Stout. Or you could abbreviate and call it Kick-Ass. Kick-Ass tastes delicious.

Summer Brewing Beers Fruit.

Drinking orange juice makes you gay.

Now obviously, no it doesn't. What a ridiculous statement, and how potentially offensive to people of all orientations and creeds. If this was the sort of site that had legal counsel, I'd probably have to put some rider in so as not to get sued by the unhumourous buggers at the Florida Orange Grower's Council. Pun semi-intended.

So, Professional Driver, Closed Course. Or something.

Anyways, my point (such as it exists) is not to denigrate OJ, nor to invoke the Chewbacca Defense. It is simply to point out that people who take the position that drinking Fruit Beers is not for quote-unquote Real Men, are being completely silly and more than a bit insufferable. Not to mention that nothing can "turn" you gay. Except for Bill at Phillips of course. Rowr.

Drinking fruit-based beers will no more revoke some imaginary Man Card than eating an apple will turn you into Emily Howard.

In fact, some (me) would argue that one of the chief attributes of your Real Man is that he doesn't give a toss what anybody thinks about what he's drinking, and can quaff whatever he wants as long as it doesn't contain

(a) poison

or

(b) one of those stupid little umbrellas

Also, we don't ask for directions. EVAR.

I was lucky enough to receive an invitation to Granville Island Brewing's taphouse to taste their new summer beer: False Creek Raspberry Ale. Normally I don't receive many invitations except of the sort to appear in front of the local magistrate to explain my appalling behaviour on the night of such-and-such, so naturally I was excited to attend.It was a fun event, what with the local news media and cheese plates and gelato and - of course - free beer. I was particularly tickled by the fact that several people I follow on Twitter were sending messages from the venue AND I HAD NO IDEA WHAT THEY LOOKED LIKE.

Ah the internet age, where you can cheerfully exchange all sorts of intimate information with people and then do a little, "Sooo..... You like.... stuff?" foot shuffle when you actually meet them in person. If you meet them in person.

And always assuming they don't murder you to death.

"But what of the beer?" you cry, and well you might. It's good! Seeing that it was a sunny day pre-Canuck meltdown, the refreshing zing of raspberry on the tongue was as welcome as.... as a really welcome thing. This is a great patio beer with next-to-no hop presence and fullish malts. Easy drinking. If I had one criticism, it would be to pull an Oliver Twist with the raspberries: More Please!

...Which you can get here.

Many of you are no doubt familiar with McAuslan's St-Ambroise Apricot Wheat Ale (NB try Cannery Brewing's version - very nice). This is McA's Raspberry Ale, and it's quite different from GIB's. Both are delicious, but both contrast quite nicely. Perhaps a Battle Royale is in order?

Very quickly, let me throw out a link to http://www.flavouredbeer.org/ and a shout-out to Karen. Lots of fruity beer recommendations on that site. Now, off to manfully drive a hybrid across town so I can sit meekly in the car while my wife buys furniture.

Damnbeerblogger Returns to Vancouver. It Rains.

Note: I still love you, Boston. Just not your hockey team.

This is what it looks like outside now:

It did not look like this yesterday. I forgot to take a picture, but here's a rough approximation:

Ille, as the French say, Pleut.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As you may or may not know, I've moved from (sunny) Victoria to (damp) Vancouver, and along with considerably more precipitation comes considerably more beer. As they say, "When it rains, it's time to pour yourself a beer". Thus, as prevention against damp spirits, Mrs. Damnbeerblogger and I donned our least porous articles of clothing and headed out into the incessant June-uary deluge.

You know, what? 'Tweren't so bad after all. Our lift dropped us off on Broadway and Cypress and we walked down to Granville Island, one of our favourite places in #yvr, and certainly a fitting place to kickoff our unofficial "welcome-back-to-Vancouver" tour. First stop, the Market (and what a melange of memory-laden smells that place has). I've been going here since I was a kid. We used to go to Kids Only and admire all the Lego sets. Nowadays we go to Oyama (which is what Rome would look like if the Pope was a sausage, and not just a German).

We went to look at the Lego sets afterwards.

Part of the joys of being an adult, aside from getting funny looks for freaking out about how cool the latest Star Wars Lego set is, is that when you're finished establishing yourself as a infantile, regressive Peter Pan, you can go drink beer with the grown-ups. This is where the Granville Island Brewing tap house comes in.

The perfect pairing for a pint of Brockton IPA -which I have to say tastes pretty damn good this close to the source- is some surreptitiously sneaked salami (that's what she said) in this case, finocchiona. These two go together so well, I ploughed through them like Alex Burrows through a box of ladyfingers.

Mrs Damnbeerblogger loved her False Creek Raspberry Ale (as you can see, she was a bit impatient for me to stop taking pictures). I had a sip: good job GIB, but more on that later.

Next stop was scheduled at the Alibi Room where we had arranged to meet up with a buddy who's a neophyte homebrewer. His best creation so far: Erythmic Ale - seriously red.

I love this place. Never mind Vancouver, I would move to someplace bleakly horrible like Antarctica or Death Valley or, y'know, Boston just to come here and try to drink my way through their epic beer-list. She had a Gold Tooth (hey, that's a great band name!), and I had a Lagunitas Undercover Investigation Shut-Down. And then a Vern's Session. And then a Rasputin on Nitro.

Then it was time to stumble North to the Whip, a journey through some very sketchy areas that had me mentally clutching my purse. Of course, I was just fine, although I did see a well-dressed businessman urinating beside his Nissan Pathfinder's open door. Ooo-kay.

Ah, the Whip. How choked was I to miss their annual show-and-shine? Very. And aren't they supposed to do it on Father's Day anyway? I have a bottle opener to that effect somewheres. Any-hoo, place was packed, beer was great (although only one seasonal). I had the Wee Angry and a Black Plague Stout. Russell and Storm need more recognition for their fine ales: these were delish.

It's good to be back. I'll miss Victoria, but coming through downtown on Wednesday night after the game and feeling the electricity in the city whet my appetite. Now that we've hit up our old haunts, it's like catching up with an old friend.

Getting Canned

It's the May long weekend, and already on my Twitter stream, folks are asking, "What's a good craft beer to drink... that comes in cans?" Good question.

Take a peek at this:

This is the best craft beer in Hawaii, as I discovered on my recent trip there. You know what? It only comes in cans. You know why? Well, this is ripped right off Maui Brewing's website:

...cans don't break like glass bottles do and it is particularly important for us to do whatever we can to keep our 120 miles of coastline, 30 miles of beaches, and other public areas free of broken glass! Cans can be recycled, are virtually unbreakable, and are lighter to carry and easier to chill than bottles. Also, key to the purity of our beers: cans eliminate light damage and the risk of oxidation. This will ensure that our canned microbrews will be flavorful, brisk, and satisfying.

The Myth of the Metallic Taste:

Bottles have long been considered the best packaging for good beer. This is no longer the case with modern aluminum cans because they are lined with an internal coating. This lining prevents the beer from ever making contact with the aluminum and ensures no metallic aftertaste.

This isn't just marketing, folks, there's a whole website devoted to the superiority of aluminum cans as a way to package beer. Personally, my favourite type of beer packaging is me, but I do confess a certain preference for cans over bottles, particularly when it comes time to return the empties.

So, suggestions.

Immediately, Central City Brewing's Red Racer lineup presents its cans like I was wearing a Sharks jersey and sitting in a penalty box. Before I got annoyingly serious about fly-fishing, there always used to be a sixer of their IPA under the seat in the canoe, and we'd crack 'em every time we hooked something. Even when it was just weeds. Or my hat.

Granville Island Brewing does nearly all their beers in can form. My fav is probably the Brockton as it won't smack you around as much as the RR IPA, but it's super refreshing for a hop-head. Honourable mention to Kitsilano Maple.

Howe Sound Brewing also now provides its lager in cans. It's getting near the temp where this'd be the perfect beer to suff in the bottom of the backpack for a good hike-in camping trip. This beer belongs wedged in some ice-cold creek, with a smoky campfire for ambience and the sounds of the BC wild for dinner music.

Oft-overlooked is Tree Brewing's canned beer. Unfortunately, none of their award-winning Hop-Head makes the leap to aluminum, and that's a special shame because Tree uses tall-boys, which are just about the greatest thing ever. Nothing is more satisfying than a perfectly filled pint-glass, and I've got my fingers crossed that Hop-Head joins Thirsty Beaver, Kelowna Pils and Cutthroat in 500ml form.

More Craft Beers from the Interior: Fernie Brewing (First Trax) and the aptly-named Cannery Brewing: Anarchy Amber or the Naramata Nut-Brown are the way to go here. Also worth a try are some of Nelson Brewing's beers. I like the Faceplant, but have heard good things about their new Hemp Ale.

For us Island-types, Race-Rocks and Lighthouse Lager would probably be my go-to summer canned beers. A lament for the Keeper's Stout in cans, but with the sadly limited appeal of darker beers, I can understand the move to only provide this delicious Irish-style stout in bottle format.

So there you go. Canada: you can't spell it without "can". Also "nada", but let's just overlook that, shall we?

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.

Battle Royale No. 4: S'Macro Smackdown

One of the great joys about being a beer snob is finding yourself in line at the liquor store behind somebody carrying a cube of Labbatt Blue or similar and thinking to yourself, "I'm better than that person." Thus, you hoist your three bombers of dry-hopped, stone-fired, barrel-aged, lambic, trappist tripel on to the counter with a thump like that of a silverback gorilla beating its chest, fix their supermarket suds with a baleful look and exchange meaningful glances with the knowledgeable private-store clerk (what, shop at a BCLDB store? With the rest of the proletariat? I think Not.).

Then, when the huddled mass has shuffled off with their lump of corporate swill, you can bask in the glory of being asked, "Oh I didn't know we had this in yet, is it any good?" and respond with a three-part treatise on the sub-atomic nuances of bottle-conditioning. It's like heading out to a foreign film festival and seeing all the dullards lined up for the latest Twilight dreck. Endlessly satisfying.

The only problem with this state of affairs is that, at some point, you will be tempted to Offer A Suggestion to random bystanders. I have done so twice, and both times were spectacular failures. You know the setup: you're striding towards the beer-wall with purpose, seeking out the latest hop-filled delight that the local brewery's just tweeted about; they're standing there, slack-jawed and glazen of eye, overwhelmed by sheer variety. All quite innocent, up until you're seized by the impulse to swoop in and rescue the gape-mouthed peasantry with a brilliant display of Expertise.

The first time this happened to me, I accosted a pleasant-looking young couple who were filling a basket with a variety of singles, just as the girl was reaching for a bottle of Czechvar. "Oh, you'll find that a bit boring," I opined, "It's basically like Budweiser."

*GLARE* (uh-oh)

The young lady rounded on me like she was a Gorgon and I just had suggested she might have a snake or two in her hair. "I know!" she huffed, "That's my country's national beer, and it's my very favourite!" Whoopsie. mumble-mumble-mumble exit-stage-left

After a while I forgot that little incident and, naturally, the same sort of thing happened again. This time I overheard another couple looking for Lighthouse Keeper's Stout, which wasn't available. I bumbled in with "You could try the Okanagan Springs Porter," and received a frosty look and an "I don't like porters." Like a fly repeatedly smacking its head against a window, I persevered. "Well, what about [Nelson Brewing's] Blackheart Oatmeal Stout?" Response: "I don't like oatmeal." Um, ohhh-kay. After a while, they wandered off with some Guinness.

So here's a valuable lesson to all my fellow beer snobs. Just like I now do, keep your fat, stupid, self-important gob firmly shut.

Here's the second lesson: while it's lovely to drink Winkle's Very Old Peculier with silt and twigs and white-tail-deer turds floating in it, not everybody else likes crazy beers, which is why you can't always find them outside specialty stores and pubs. So what do you do when you find yourself rubbing shoulders with the riff-raff, with NASCAR on the telly and Nickelback on the stereo? Why, you seek refuge in an offering from a micro that's nearly a macro: the small macro-brewery. Or the big micro-brewery. Whatever.


So I headed down to the BCLDB (ewww) like the rest of you anarcho-syndicalist-commune types and spent a good half hour wandering around trying to select two challengers, finally settling on Okanagan Springs 1516 Lager and Granville Island's Island Lager. Island's Island? I mean GIB's Island Lager. Moving on.

I know there will be much tooth-gnashing about my selections and definitions of micro/macro, but blame @sticklebract for the suggestion. Dean actually also suggested something from Pacific Western, but I found myself physically incapable of reaching for a six-pack of Cariboo. I still have that damned Keith's IPA cluttering up the fridge, and I don't need to add five cans of crappy seven-dollar beer to the crisper.


Granville Island Brewing Island Lager vs. Okanagan Springs 1516 Lager

Round One: Fight!

First problem: I don't really drink lager. I mean, I'm aware there's a type of beer called lager and it's supposedly the pinnacle of the brewer's art and requires a great deal of precision and technical know-how and wearing of black turtlenecks and listening to Kraftwerk to make it, but I prefer my beer to be a bit simple and a bit heavy. Like me.

Yes, I know anyone with a sack of grain and a moderately dirty bathtub can make an ale, but I really get tired of all the lager commercials that repeat the words "crisp" and "clean" so many times, you'd think they were advertising an iceberg-lettuce-based furniture polish.

However, before I turn into even more of wretched snob: it's yellow, it's got bubbles in it, ergo it's beer. Let's have a peek and a sniff.


The 1516 smells like nothing. I mean, it's a bit beery, but there's very little there. The Island Lager is very very slightly more malty, like if a mashtun just off-gassed 400 miles away. It's also slightly more yellow, but it's like choosing between beige and taupe, or deciding who's more orange, Siegfried or Roy.

Round Two: Fight!

I kind of feel that since the Post-It sou'wester, there's a general expectation that I'll always wear entertaining headgear. Not sure what would be appropriate here. Probably a flat-billed baseball hat. Either way, sorry to disappoint.

The Okanagan 1516 is clean and crisp. God damn it.

Well, it is. There's really no other better descriptor. A quick malty fizz, a little bitterness on the palate, and then it's gone, leaving nothing but a general refreshed feeling. If I came inside on a summer's day after mowing the lawn or working on the car or just reading a book in the hammock to find one of these little beauties in the fridge, well, I'd have little to complain about. Not that I wouldn't try.

Now the Granville Island.
What the hell? They're completely different!

The Granville Island tastes bizarre with the 1516 still fresh on the palate. It's almost like a pale ale, or if not a pale ale, then what a really mainstream brewery would produce and slap a label on saying "pale ale". That's not a shot at GIB, you understand, it's just noticeably sweeter, fuller and maltier than the 1516. Is that a good thing? I'm not sure...

Round Three: Fight!

This is a toughie.

On one hand, we've got the Sapporo-owned Okanagan Springs, and much like the bitterly cold karaoke juice that their Nipponese parent company are best known for, their brew is somehow crisper in finish, and if you're a lager-head, isn't that what you'd go for?

But on the other hand, shouldn't a craft-brew have a bit more body than the commercial guys? Or is it less about a fuller body than about the package as a whole? Certainly, both these beers are as smooth as a Grover Washington Jr. track.

Ummmm.... I pick..... that one.

Result!

Okanagan Springs wins by eenie-meenie-minie-moe.

Post-Battle Review

I gotta say, what a great province we live in when this is what passes for mainstream. To think some people call these beers bland. Smooth like butta, as drinkable as prosecco in a heat wave, cheap as Molson, available everywhere: quite frankly, I'm stoked for a summertime bbq with either one of these beers floating around these ice chest.

Two left, I'm picking the 1516, but you'll be happy with either.

Okanagan Springs 1516 Lager
Recommended if:
-it's hot outside
-you can spell "reinheitsgebot" without googling it
-you've just invented Crispy Pledge

Not Recommended if:
-you've never been to the BCLDB
-you only drink beers with twigs in it
-you're afraid of Ogopogo

GIB's Island Lager
Recommended if:
-you've just picked up some finocchiona at Oyama
-you prefer a slightly sweeter finish
-it's hot outside

Not recommended if:
-you're that Kokanee ranger
-you're looking for the beer equivalent of barley soup
-you've only got seven bucks in your pocket

Serving Suggestions: Three Beers For Robbie Burns Day

Jan 25th is Robbie Burns day, a time when the definition of "Scottish" stretches to include 3rd generation Scots Immigrants, utility-kilt enthusiasts, and pretty much anybody who's ever seen Braveheart. It is a time of drinking fiery liquor, eating cuisine that seems, as Mike Myers once said, based on a dare, like intestines stuffed with more intestines, or the Scotch Egg (which is worse for your health than a close range shotgun blast), and it's also a time for Scotch Beer.

Despite my Gaelic roots, I'm not Scottish, although I have read several collections of the comic strip The Broons and I've always had a deep-seated desire to travel back through time and kick Dr. Samuel Johnson very hard in his fat gouty shins.

As such, I won't be partaking of any particular libation this eve, but I have stocked the cupboard with a few choice brews for the weekend. If you're doing a last-minute shop, these should all be available at your local BCLDB, and if you're going the private route, feel free to get a recommendation, as these aren't the only kilty brews out there (a wee Heavy'd be nice).

Innis and Gunn is a go-to gift beer that I enjoy giving to people who've no experience of craft brews. It's delicious, and small enough that you could just have the one for a quick toast.

Fraoch (which cannot be pronounced without heaving up a gob of phlegm) is a golden heather-infused ale, and should remind us all that the vaunted hop is nearly modern in terms of its use as an additive for beer. The heather imparts a slight floral nature, but there's next to no aftertaste: it's as sweet as a lowland milkmaid.

Granville Island's Scottish Ale is your typical malt-forward Scots Ale. It is as deep brown as a pair of tweed trousers and'll have you rolling your rrr's in to time at all, ye ken?

Not pictured: Saltspring has a Heather Ale, which is light and airy, a wee, sleekit cowerin' timorous thing of a brew. Well worth tracking it down.