Denmark: Beer Geek Breakfast, Mikkeller, København

It’s been a tough old day. I was in a suit and tie until 11:30 pm yesterday. Nothing could be worse. Then, Paul and I are all pointy fingers over war and, over at Stan’s, otherwise seemingly sensible people are going absolutely handbags over the meaning of art. Well, at least you can’t suggest I am sweating the small stuff.

So I need a moment. For myself. Just me and a 7.5% Scandinavian oatmeal stout. I was given this as a sample from the kind people at Roland and Russell. They represent Mikkeller here in Ontario as well as a number of other snazzy brewers. There have been others from Mikkeller care of RR. But I stuck the Santa’s Little Helper 2008 in the deeper depths of the stash. And I think I’ve had a Jackie Brown and an IPA as well – but I took no notes. Put the blame on me. Or blame it on Fridays after work when I just want something astounding and Nordic but, as you know, one can only reread ones Thor comics so many times. Or (Note: warning) blame it on the rain for what it’s worth. But the fact is that they went down the cake hole and the delicacy of the experience has been lost to the generations of mankind who shall follow. I noted not. The authors of those biographical masters theses will be right some grumpy when they find out.

“Buh’wuzziylie?” you ask. A bit of the smell of a double cream sherry on the popping of the cap. Once poured, the scent is all mocha. The head is a long lasting brown cream foam. Browner than beige or mocha. Real brown. In the mouth, not the heaviest strong stout I have had but pretty damn smooth. Silky oat and roasty dark chocolate. Then things come in quick succession: mint hop, chalk, licking a rock, unsweet licorice and a bunch of other things in a jumble. The finish is long and shape shifting, too. Plenty of texture as well. Dusty dry cocoa, cream yeast, even slight hop astringency. Lots going on. Triff’.

BAers know the love.

Another Reason To Not Visit A Wetherspoon Pub

Pete and Jeff and most of the other British bloggers I follow regularly trash the JD Wetherspoon chain. I may never have the chance to go to one but this story from Portsmouth, England gives us all another reason never go if you could:

Two Marines were refused entry to their local pub the day after fighting on the frontline in Afghanistan because their military ID wasn’t good enough. Dan Buchanan and Kelvin Billings were gagging for a homecoming pint and brandished their ID – which includes their date of birth – when they were stopped at the door. But the pair were then stunned to be told it was not acceptable. Buchanan, 21, said: “I was putting my life on the line for Britain a day before and that didn’t count for anything. We were disgusted and angry.”… A spokesman for JD Wetherspoon said it only accepts a passport, driving licence or UK citizen card as valid ID.

I am a little surprised that beer and the military seems to have become a minor theme around here. I wonder if it is because we are an army town here, too, and I am used to seeing young people in camouflage walking around town and sitting in the pubs all the time. Plus, there is nothing more irritating that an organization deciding that it will determine when you are what you plainly are in law and in fact. These two people were clearly of age, were able to identify themselves as being in “their local” and likely could have established their age in a bazillion different ways – never mind the fact that they were just back from the front and likely ought to not have paid for one beer that night. Shame.

So, like them, why not consider yourself barred by Wetherspoon as well. Badge of honour as far as I can tell.