A Triumvirate From Hoyne Brewing - (What, you thought I was dead?)

Well, now. Nice to see you again.

"So what happened to the damnbeerblogger?" folks have been asking, as well they might. As it turns out, nothing particularly interesting, just the humdrum everyday excuse of not having enough time to keep up with a blog and a house and an increased writing workload and a full-time job. Beer blog went from back burner to shelf to back of the freezer to crammed-in-an-old-cardboard-box-in-the-attic. Nine months I had kept it up, but no more.

However, a few things have re-energized me recently. Firstly, an unexpected bumping into Dean&Liz reminded me of all the interesting folks that I've met as a result of starting this blog. And then there was the electrifying news that Singularity is about to drop: the very beer that kicked thingsoff in the first place for me.

So, time to dust of the 'ol keyboard (the pint-glass doesn't need dusting-off: THAT I never took a break from), and ease back into things with a trio from Victoria's newest brewery.

Hoyne Brewing boasts a history of quality, and fair enough given Sean Hoyne's CV: Swan's then Canoe, then this. While my initial reaction was, "Where did these guys spring from?" it's more evidence that Victoria is Brewtown, BC; a centre where a thriving pub culture and local support mean that the answer to the question "Do we really need another brewery?" is an unreserved "Yes!"

I miss you, Victoria (but more on that later).

The first of our three is Devil's Dream IPA, and if you are thinking of opening a brewery and NOT offering an IPA, then gooood luck. Wait, didn't Driftwood get away with that for a while. Oh well, never mind: IPA is now a recognized and demanded style for your West Coaster and, as I'm a hop-head, I had some interest in seeing whether this beer would make its way into regular rotation.

It's good... but no. Despite the fiddler on the label, definitely not an East-Coast IPA, the Devil's Dream is very hoppy and acerbic, but doesn't pack a huge resiny wallop, more a balanced malt profile. Nice citrus smell, pale malts, bitter finish, nice but wouldn't stand up to a Fat Tug.

 This, though, was much better. I'm really coming around to the Pale Ale as an easy-drinkin' alternative to getting your papillae blitzed by hop-forward IPAs, and this lovely, malty beer something in the style of the Moon Under Water's beers. And not too shy on the hops either. A very nicely rounded beer, and most assuredly the proper beer to introduce yourself to Hoyne with.

Yes, that's "bock." With a "b." Ignore the big.... chicken.

What a world we live in where 6.5% and a "strong beer" label immediately has me rolling my eyes. But enough on the labels, how does this beer stand on merit? Not too bad actually, though it's not really... I suppose the nice thing to say would be "it's approachable." There's none of the big maltiness of a European bock, but then, it's still quite tasty.

Overall, a decent debut, though nothing earth-shatteringly delicious. Not pictured: the Hoyner Pilsner I neglected to get (next time). 

Having dipped my toe, a catch-up post is in order. Then next week.... the Singularity approaches.

Lighthouse Brewing's New Ads Make Me Want to Hurt Myself

Okay folks, watch this.

Congratulations, you are now stupider.

I know, I know, it's supposed to be funny and silly and lighthearted, and not really objectify women, and certainly the folks that I know from Lighthouse would be mortified to think that they were offending anyone, but this is just plain dumb, and I'll tell you why. The craft beer industry will only continue to grow and improve because of the involvement of women.

Just look at the local CAMRA executive if you don't believe me.

But before that check out more silliness:

Oh look, her top came off. Of course it did. Now, let's get some lime in that beer and serve it EXTRA COLD.

Seriously, what century are we living in?

Battle Royale No 7: Abel vs. Cain

As a passport-bearing denizen of Northern Ireland, I am no stranger to family in-fighting. In the wee parcel of land from whence I sprung, men have bled and died while not realizing that they have much more in common with each other than they do with either the people of the Republic of Ireland or the British Royal family, that bunch of teat-sucking German vampires. No prizes for guessing which side I tend towards.

However, I am all too happy that my folks eschewed the blinkered life of the oul' sod and came instead to Canada, where I can even make friends with a Liverpudlian without the attendant stigma associated with same. Well, without most of the stigma...


But anyway, here we are at the much-overdue B.R. numbah 7, and it's time for a little good old fashioned inter-brewery throw-down. In one corner, the much-lauded Fat Tug; in the other, Twenty Pounder gets another shot. Ding!


Driftwood Fat Tug IPA vs. Driftwood Twenty Pounder Double IPA

Round 1: Fight!


Now, many of you might already be saying, "Hey! You already said you didn't like the Twenty-Pounder! How fair is that?" Well, not fair, actually, but let me put this out there. Ignoring all a priori notions of which beer is better, I laid aside my initial impression, and really tried to examine the beer. After all, while taste is subjective, some folks are really digging this brew. 


So here we are then, and at first sniff, here we are with some seriously hoppy beers. Seriously, the Fat Tug's got more hops than a jackrabbit smoothie, and a whiff of the Twenty-Pounder indicates the same. Warning: the 'Tug starts Alexander Keith's corpse spinning in his grave, but the Twenty Pounder has him hitting 9000 rpms. Dude just hit VTEC, yo.


On first blush, the Twenty Pounder has the edge on body and colour, but it's the Fat Tug's floral hop bouquet that draws first blood.

Round 2: Fight!


Obviously, I've got to sample the Fat Tug first off, as the Twenty-Pounder has the heft to be an A-Bomb to the tastebuds. I am become DIPA, destroyer of Palates. It's hard to believe that this stuff is even better on tap than it is in the bottle. It's fresh and light and delicious without being wimpy. As much as I love Red Racer, Fat Tug is stiff competition against any IPA.


But it's not up against any IPA, it's up against its hairy-knuckled big bro'. Which beer, it must be said, has some of that stewed-grapefruit character of Southern Tier's Un*Earthly, possibly my fav beer if I had to choose. But where the Tier balances that double shwack of hops with a big malt body, the Twenty-Pounder has an astringent bitterness that's off-leash. No mistaking the big alcohol content either. Second round's gotta go to the 'Tug.

Round 3: Fight!


There's a third left in each bottle now, and if I didn't have a liver the size of a wagon-wheel, I'd be slurring my sibilants. As it stands, I still stand, and so do our two combatants, though the Twenty-Pounder has been taking a beating.


But something funny's happened. The initial bite of both beers has been muted by their intense hop concentrations to the point that the acrid, astringent taste of the Twenty-Pounder is no longer off-putting. It's been blunted by repeated sipping and funnily enough, the Fat Tug is almost like a Race Rocks in its maltiness as its hoppiness is masked by the solar flare of resin coming off the Twenty-Pounder. Which do I prefer? 


Hmm. Round 3 is a draw.

Round 4: Fight!


We're down to the dregs now, and the numbers of lysed brain cells are hitting the trillons. So I hope you appreciate the research, dear readers, as the chances of me ever doing a crossword puzzle again just went out the window. 


But, in the final round, we do have a winner. The Twenty-Pounder is just too much like work. It's not quaffable in any degree: the intensity of the hops is simply exhausting to the palate, and then you refresh yourself with a sip of Fat Tug and wonder why you're bothering with the other. After all, the Twenty-Pounder is only 2% stronger than the 'Tug is anyway.


Result! 


Fat Tug wins, despite giving up a hop-load and ABV advantage to the heavy-weight Twenty-Pounder!

Post-Battle Review:

More is not necessarily better. Hard to believe I'm saying such a thing about beer, but there you go. I maintain that Driftwood Brewing is the Brewery to beat on the West Coast for range-wide excellence, but their regular IPA remains too good for a misfire of a DIPA to take out in single combat.

Driftwood Fat Tug
Recommended if:-one "schwack o' hops" is enough
-balance is favoured over sheer mass
-still worth ordering for the double-entendre name
Not Recommended if:
-you only buy cans
-tastebuds be damned, I need to kill my brain!
-you don't like IPAs. In which case: this is the wrong B.R. for you, boyo.
Driftwood Twenty-Pounder
Recommended if:-ABV and IBU high-scores matter more to you than taste
-For those about to have a major hang-over, we saluuuute you
-you probably should try it at least once anywayNot recommended if:-you're not a hop fan. Because this will melt your face.
-you favour balance over outright intensity

-there's Fat Tug available. Because it's better.

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.

The Democracy of the Beer Cooler

My house is warmed. By which I mean, Mrs. Damnbeerblogger and I invited a number of people over -- totalling a "bunch" -- for some nibblies and bevvies in celebration of the fact that we've finally got our house organized. Which feat was accomplished by bunging all the mess into the basement.

As housewarmings go, it was quite the success, meaning that I received more beer by way of presents than I had to buy. The excellent Orlando F. bought a nearly-entire selection of Driftwood (as befits an individual bearing such a glorious appellation, he left off the Twenty-Pounder), and I also nabbed such beauties as a Chambar, a Lighthouse Overboard and a rare blueberry ale from a little-known brewery in New Brunswick. Also, two bottles of homebrew, both delish.

Admonished by the missus to procure some "boring" beer such that non-beerthusiast friends would not find themselves reeling from the proverbial schwack o'hops that I'm normally fond of, I milled about the 16th Street Liquor Store's cooler like a spotty adolescent furtively eyeing the top-shelf lady-mags, but couldn't pull the trigger on some dullsville two-four with fizzy yellow airbrushed features. Instead, I made my own two-four with mix and match six-packs.

Pack #1: Red Racer IPA. Dammned if I'm going to have a party without it.

Pack #2: Mount Begbie Kolsch. A safe bet and delicious to boot.

Pack #3: Cannery Naramate Nut Brown. I remember this being tastier. Still approachable and tasty.

Pack #4: Stanley Park Amber Ale. Not a regular for me, but should do all right.

Yon traditional cooler was packed with ice and brewskis and popped out onto the balcony, as through the night people milled in and out. Wine-drinkers drank wine. Non-drinkers drank tea. Somebody made Caesars. Halfway through the evening, somebody showed up with a sixer of Mill St Tankhouse Ale, and that got tossed in the cooler as well.

Come morning, came the cleanup, and I noticed a peculiar pattern to the floaties left behind in the cooler. I clearly remember the Red Racer evaporating as per usual (damn that's good stuff), but the leftovers certainly seemed to indicate... something.

Sure the Tankhouse was a late addition, and there was a single Begbie and Naramata left, but why all the Stanley Park cans? They were the last in, so folks were digging straight past 'em, in search of something different. Why? This calls for some research.

Here's the brew in question. On the label, it says it's sustainably brewed in a sustainable brewery by sustainable brewers that sustainably brew sustainable beer. I officially now want to punch the guy who started the whole sustainable movement right in his stupid sustainable face. SUSTAINABLY.

So it's made with a windmill or something: who cares? Is is any good? MMMmmmmmmmmm.....

Meh.

This is a Belgian-style Amber? I mean, I know Belgium is not the most thrilling country in the universe but there're three things they do well:

1) Beer

2) Fries

and

3) Providing an arena for England and Germany to settle their differences.

This beer is un-offensive and un-obtrusive and just plain un-interesting. I'd leave it floating in the bottom of the cooler too.

On a more positive note, we were able to get to The District Social in Lonsdale Quay tonight. Great Belgian beer list (mostly bottles), great food, and La Chouffe on tap. Now THAT'S how you do it.

Damn It, Missed: Twenty Pounder

This beer blog is teetering on the brink between, "Hey, don't you have a beer-blog?" and, "Hey, didn't you used to have a beer blog?" The readership bar at the bottom of your screen looks like a performance evaluation of the NYSE. And/or the dwindling popularity of Lindsay Lohan.

Now, I've the best of excuses for this blogging malaise, or rather a triumvirate of them: new job, new house and a surfeit of other writing gigs. Which gigs, dear reader, I actually get paid to do, and with the amount of beer required to deal with the stress of (a) New Job and (b) New House, you'd best believe I'm like a one man Oktoberfest, and thus need the funds.

Anyway, I soldier on, and hope you will too, as this blog inevitably degenerates into the sort of off-the-cuff twaddle that might be jammed within the pages of a Supermarket brochure on food-pairing ("rich meats like lamb go best with a dark beer, like Molson Canadian Export").

And so to battle. Not B.R., I haven't the strength for one of those, although I've got the kernel of an idea for the next one, and it's a Duesenberg. No, today it's time to review Driftwood Brewing's latest, the Twenty Pounder Double Imperial Pale Ale.

At the outset, I was more excited about the release of this beer than pretty much anything else this year. Yeah, yeah; I bought property. Yawn-snooze-coma-D.N.R. A double-IPA from Driftwood Brewing? Hold on t'yer hat Ma, she's gonna be a big one!

If all the breweries of BC were forced to don sashes and compete in some out-moded chauvinistic beauty contest, Driftwood would be the contestant who played a cover version of Motorhead's Ace of Spades on the bagpipes, sashayed around in a shimmering one-piece until the floor was littered with bugged-out eyeballs and then recited the entire works of the Venerable Bede in Latinate, balanced the national budget, and cured all known diseases. In short, they rock and/or roll.

So when I heard that Driftwood was going to be putting out a beer that might be a local rival for my all-time-fav Southern Tier Un*Earthly, I immediately began hyperventilating and fell out of my chair. My favourite style by my favourite brewery? How great is that?

Well, and assuming you've read the title of this post you shouldn't be surprised, not.... great.

Someone packed the powder wrong, and the Twenty Pounder fails to live up to it's For Those About To Rock artwork and instead blurts out its charge with a sad trombone noise. Wah-Wahhhh. It's just all over the place and skunky, and ye gods, the aftertaste is as astringent as... uh... a really astringent thing.

Dan over at smallbeerblog did an excellent post on this beer where he asked the question (and I paraphrase), "Do we criticize the small brewers as harshly as we do the big guys?" It's a fair question, especially as I, like you, would preferably support our hard-working local brewers. But why coddle them?

We don't need to. Driftwood is still the best brewer around. When my Cali peeps come up North, all they ever talk about is how amazing Fat Tug is. Take that, Lagunitas.

But as for the Twenty Pounder, well, it's a misfire. Part of the problem of setting such a high standard for your beers is that they get judged by that standard. This beer comes up short, but only because when I see the Driftwood label, I expect nothing but the absolute best.

The Alibi Room Is The Best Place to Drink Beer In Vancouver. There. I Said It.

When bearded flip-flop enthusiast and serial-ruiner Jonny Lieberman (of Motortrend) mentioned he was coming to town, there was only one place that I was going to send him: without a moment's hesitation, I recommended the Alibi Room.

Now, had I taken a moment, I probably would have put forward Milestone's or something else equally meh. The Loverman has a tendency to lay waste to previously excellent things like some sort of King Midas of lame. To wit, next time I rolled into the Alibi Room, they'd run out of casks. Dammit, Jonny!

Anyway, probably none of you are getting this inside joke, so I'll move on.

The point is, while there are many excellent places to drink beer in this amazing town, only one can wear the King Heffy -style crown. This is not to cast aspersions on any of the fine quaffing establishments that rub shoulders with the 'Room but, like Highlander, there can only be One... ridiculous Scotsman with a Samurai sword.

In this case, it's Nigel Springthorpe, who is about as Scottish as, I dunno, Christopher Lambert. But trust a Geordie to get the beer right. Naturally, credit goes to sis-in-law Raya Audet and the good Mrs. Springthorpe as weeel.

God I love this place. Not only is the beer list constantly changing and double-sided, but there's frequent casks and also the food is amazing. I'm of the opinion that good beer should not be served in a place that doesn't have good fries. The Alibi Room's taters are kick ass.

There were many sensible, logical and financial reasons for my move from lovely Victoria (and I miss all you guys) to busy and frequently wet Vancouver. But I can't help thinking that perhaps all the rationale laid out on the table was simply just a justification to get closer to the unequivocal best tap list in BC. Crazy, right?

Right?