Me and Mine – Page 11 – A Good Beer Blog

Day 2: Our Christmas Ice Storm 2013

Happy we are that the stove top and basement fireplace both run on natural gas. We still have electricity but if and when we don’t it’ll be days and days of grilled cheese then porridge, grilled cheese then porridge. We can hold out on that for a week. Week two? Beans on rice? The back step will be our freezer, the cold room under the front step our fridge. For suburbanites, we have it good – or at least the house was built in ’64 with an awareness of nature. Wine is expected to still operate in an extended blackout. As with banjos. Very Christmassy so far… sitting here early on a Saturday evening, four days before the day. Best image of the first day of the ice storm? Street skating.

Travel: A November Saturday Night In Albany

I finally figured out how to pronounce the name of the capital city of New York state. I knew “Ahhhlbany” was wrong but could not figure out “Awlbany” until I heard it was called “Smallbany” too. So it rhymes with small. There you go. We were there for an Albany Ale Project event at the Albany Institute of History and Art. It was a great event which I will likely write about over at the beer blog but wanted to note a few things for now about the travel aspects of the trip.

First, as illustrated, we had a great brunch at the Gateway Diner handy to the simply majestic Oliver’s Beverage. The place was big for a diner but the spaces were broken up so that you had a sense in each part of it that you were in a busy family diner. Service was fast and friendly. The coffee was good. I like having New York strip steak while in the Empire State. This was my first one with eggs. Poached. One must be careful these days.

The diner was not that far from where we were staying, the CrestHill Suites on outer Washington near the State Campus. We picked this up for 91 bucks on Hotwire. Clean. Generous room with a real kitchen that defied the use of nook. Armchair and sofa. Quite even if near the highway. We had room 312. We will book again. Best thing was the laundry basket in the bathroom. A $1.79 item that meant we did not have to leave damp used towels on the floor and, presumably, allowed the staff to clean up with a little more dignity than getting down on all fours to recover the last facecloth from under the sink. A simple smart thing that earned our respect.

Last, after the event three couples went for a Mexican dinner before heading for beers at the Lionheart Pub closer to downtown. The restaurant, El Mariachi, sits across the street from the Institute. Its one of those spots you go to in the States that reminds you that Canadians thing BBQ is a wiener on the hibachi. I won’t go into much detail except that supper for six was only a bit over $80 and that I had something that really rearranged my thoughts about Mexican food – chicken with pumpkin seed sauce. Fabulous. I am now going to make pumpkin seed sauce and pour it over everything. Generous portions. Great service and cozy small spaces.

So, as you can see, I have thought about something I want to write about in this space other than gardening. I mean I could write how the fence blew down on Friday but… really?

It’s Friday And What Have We Learned Beery?

It’s Friday. Friday evening. The Friday that is the end of the first full week after summer vacation. If it was undergrad this would be the weekend you show that you learned the lessons of frosh week. But it’s not frosh week, is it? No, instead of cheap ass beer or rot gut booze it’s a glass of the dessert wine after another milestone in the generation coming up behind. Cake and wrapping paper piles. Note to file for the 13,753rd time: beer does not go better with desserts. Give me a beer with noble rot and then maybe we can talk.

This week I discussed brewing with two groups that are thinking about opening that first production brewery in my town. For a few years a couple of times a year I have had the lunch or the cup of coffee, discuss what it might take and… still no brewery. These groups are different, however. Well funded and populated by folk who have run businesses, made decisions. People who understand that a sack of grain needs to be carried up that ladder. I hope one of them makes a go of it. At least one. If only for my sake.

The first draft of the Alan and Max Book was sent out to a few readers. It is so weird that I am not sure what to make of it other to suggest it’s a stark and incisive dialogue that bends time and space. I’ve been writing three things other than this blog for a few months now and, given I also have three co-writers, I am fairly pleased that I can even say even that much about this one. I am really worried the Ontario beer history will have a scene in which Ron Pattinson crawls out of my shed. The most honest assessment so far is the one from Craig. We’ll be hundredaires! And so shall we be.

Now? Now there is an Oktoberfest mixed pack from Beau’s to consider. They were so rightly pleased with the design that the sample came with instructions on how to recreate the cardboard carry all. The results are shown above. Roggenbier, maibock, rauch weissbier and German porter. Think I am starting with the Oktobock.

The Day Ended With The Game At Fenway With Andy

Spent the evening with Andy Crouch watching the Yankees play the Red Sox at Fenway. The only thing missing was a New York loss. Like all the best baseball games, it was a morality play on the fields and in the stands. I was looking down the first base line from our seats in the right field corner when A-Ro(i)d got absolutely pegged square in the upper back by good guy Canuck pitcher Ryan Dempster. But that was when the Sox were winning. Next time up? A-Rod hits a long lingering homer.

Oh, yes. This is a beer blog. Andy suggested we meet at Citizen Public House just by the ball park. Excellent choice. The best sort of blend of good beer and drink, interesting food and comfortable but stylish setting. He was a little delayed so I was given the time to have a few Jack D’or by Pretty Things. And I added another species to the list with a flounder dinner. Once in the park and once the surreal feelings of walking into the TV that may only be experienced by a sports fan who has not seen his team at home since he was 10 years old, we sat. And talked about a lot of things. We both work in the law but in different fields and under different constitutions.

And we talked about beer. At the park, there was the feeling that a page had been turned back. Long Trail pale ale, Harpoon IPA and Wachusett Green Monster were on offer at nine bucks for a 12 ounce pour. Solid beers but not the range you might find in other parks. We touched on an idea I raised in passing the other week on Twitter, retro-craft. I wonder whether, once this era of over hopping, over souring and, frankly, the sort of over producing that reminds me the relationship between R+B and disco… we shall have retro-craft. Well balanced beers highlighting the main components of water, malt and yeast with hops returning to their proper job of framing and cutting the cloy. Will it happen?

There was another sort of good beer future on display elsewhere in town on Sunday. We were out on a forced march for the kids through the MIT campus in Cambridge looking for a little something something when we came upon a team of volunteers shredding and slicing pumpkins at the CBC. Got to speak with brewmaster Will Meyers a couple of times as the kids enjoyed the part of the vacation known as “Dad at the Beer Related Business”. We talked gourds, Will describing how he was looking for sugar pumpkin flavour, not pie and not even so much spice. This meant ensuring the pumpkins had limited fermentables, so the beer became an expression of the fruit, not a mirror of a dish made with pumpkin. The growing season was late so the crop was brought in from an Amish farm near Augusta, Maine. One of the group, Lee Movic of Belmont’s Craft Beer Celler, in passing called the beer they were help make was a fresh pumpkin ale. I will post some photos of the scene in a bit. I am still figuring out how to post images on the new iPad.

So, what is the take away? Three scenes: one comfortable, one a bit higher end and one all about exploring possibilities.

New York: Wolff’s Biergarten, Broadway, Albany

The big bald tattooed guy working for the valet parking at the hotel backed up Craig‘s decision that our families’ breakfasts would be had at Wolff’s Biergarten. Fact: big men with bald heads and tattoos often have a strong sense of what makes for a good breakfast.

The scene was decidedly un-Ontarian where alcohol may not be served until 11 am. At 9:15 in the morning, the crowd was well into the early games from Germany and England. The five kids in our group caused no one concern as the hefes and dunkels were passed across the bar side by side with coffee. Stacks of pancakes kept them quiet as the former fire station turned into a garage of picnic tables and beer watched the games. Goals caused eruptions of belly deep roars of approval while kids played tag in bright summer sunlight.

When Did I Last Shop At The Beer Store?

I won’t have to worry about this for a while:

To get a sense of how much the lack of competition affects beer prices, Sen compared pre-tax beer prices in Ontario and Quebec. The price of a 24-pack (the average of several brands such as Molson Canadian or Bud Light) came to about $26 in Quebec grocery stores, and about $36 at the Ontario Beer Store. Sen estimated that the extra money, about $700 million, “is going directly from consumer pockets to a consortium with majority ownership by foreign-based firms.” (The Beer Store disputes those numbers, saying Sen compared pre-tax to post-tax prices, ignored commodity tax differences and used a small sample.)

What can you say when your face numbers like that. Anything I have to say is framed by the fact that it really doesn’t affect me. I buy good beer at the LCBO, in a pub, from the brewery or on jaunts into nearby northern NY or Quebec. The Beer Store, even with its generalist’s name, has found itself in the position where its stock is specialized, limited to those beers that don’t really qualify as craft or for the most part all that interesting. When you think about it, the good beer buyer in Ontario is really well served by this physical retail reality, the separation of macro beer from the better stuff.

And I will really not be able to concern myself as it’s time to drive the family from brewpub to micro brewery to good beer store in a random selection of US states for a while. What should I get that’s new in Maine? What’s the best place to eat with the family near Fenway? Do any brewpubs offer mini putt? These are the questions for the next wee while. Ontario’s macro retail off shore monopolists? What are they to me?

Not Beer: Racing Around PEC And Buying Stuff

Another great day in the nearby setting of Prince Edward County. We left the house around 10:30 am and returned at seven having hit a cidery, four wineries, a cheese maker, two beaches as well as a BBQ smoke house on the way home. Highlight? I ate goat milk strawberry ice cream with chèvre chunks built right in. Less buy in on that treat with the older kids but the six year old gulped it back happily. Family: those who scorn your habits… with the evidence to back it up.

Needless to say the stash is tightly packed. I dropped into Devil’s Wishbone at the north-east of the county again, this time for a couple of their Rieslings and a 2010 Pinot Noir. The vines above are the same ones seen nicely sleeping last January. After dropping the others at Wellington Beach, I bombed through what might just be the greatest trio of wineries up a back road in Ontario. First up 2.5 km out of the village was Karlo Estates, new to me but immediately exuding a welcoming comfort in the re-purposed barn. I found a straight up petite verdot called 5th Element, a Bordeaux inspired blend name of Quintus as well as their 2010 Pinot Noir.

Sooner or later I am having a Pinor Noir fest in the back yard. Chatted a bit and learned that their Riesling is made withe grapes from Devil’s wishbone. Best in the area I was told. Next, I got on to the Chase Road and headed north. I wanted to visit Lacey Estates for their Gewurztraminer as well as another Pinot Noir. Had a quick chat with an owner and the wine maker. I was on the clock but very cheery folk. Last, the most excellently named Closson Chase which sits at, you know, the corner of Closson and Chase roads where I picked up a couple of their County grown Chardonnay as well as, yes, a Pinot Noir called Assemblage. More Pinot Noir.

Living so near hitting the County hard at least a couple of times a year is becoming a habit. Most of today’s finds will sleep for months and maybe years for big dinners and family gatherings. Took a heard look at a lot of small older back road farmhouses along the way. Could do worse than a cottage in wine country.

So Now #JordanAndAlanBook Has A Name

Just so you can plan your Father’s Day shopping for 2014, the book contracts have been confirmed with the publisher History Press, aka our reputable publisher. Never thought I’d have one of those.

And, as befits a birthday, it has a name: Ontario Beer: A Heady History of Brewing from the Great Lakes to the Hudson Bay. I noticed something about the name. It goes against the regular direction of things. The general theory goes that Ontario grew east to west. But it really grew west to east after the last Ice Age, then later south to north with the Five Nations and their neighbours, then a blip in the east with Cartier… but then north to south-westish with Henry Hudson followed two generations later by the first outposts of the Hudson Bay Company, then a blip in the far east with Lasalle and Frontenac followed by then a little continuing action at the very southwest across from Detroit until the Loyalist surge south to west at Niagara along with south to north along the St. Lawrence, then very far east to west after the War of 1812 and west and west and north and north-west and west until… now.

Better get at it.

Garden 2013: A Week Into July And Where Are We?

So, there are beans. A patch of soldier beans from Johnny’s seeds that should flower and pod, then fade and die before any are picked. Dried beans for winter to be slow baked with molasses and bacon. Bombastic bowel-tastic beans waiting for an evening with Hockey Night in Canada as a blizzard howls outside. The bok choi and mustards have flowered with the advent of heat. The lettuces are still coming on with new sowings. Grapes are looking very good as is the tower of potatoes. There are hundreds of sugar snap pea pods waiting to be picked now. The lad ate a raspberry from his own property today.

More seeds will be planted before work this week. Tender carrots for September and October need to get in the ground now. You mail order seeds in February to plan for spring. You sow seeds in July planning for autumn. It’s never about now.

Waking Up At The Wrong End Of Lake Ontario

Did I write wrong up there? I meant “western” or at least “other” I suppose. Having a house emptied by the call of a cottage as I stay home to work next week, I needed something to do. And I had a bit of business to take care of with Jordan. That thing I didn’t get into any details about a couple of weeks ago. Book deal. Or rather a “promise to write a book” deal. We had to sign some papers and what better way to celebrate than a short tour of some beer spots around his hometown.

Once I got to the hotel, I got directed out of the downtown that I am most familiar with to head out in a taxi, past the protesting Egyptians at the legislature, around the mass of celebration that was the PRIDE event and north to The Rebel House, a pub celebrating its 20th birthday this year. I found Jordan out back in the beer garden. Well, he called it a beer garden but I would have called it a back patio. Which was about the only point over the next six or seven hours that I did not raise with him. I deeply don’t care about the difference but wonder why I think things like that. I had tweeted as I drove west that I wanted a Left Field Eephus and the spot was picked well as it was in very good shape for a dappled table in a backyard on a perfect June afternoon. I am not used to Toronto being this pleasant. At this point of the afternoon I attributed it entirely to the gem of a drinking spot.

Finished up and then jumped into a taxi for another flying trip back south to the Queen and Beaver on Elm off Yonge for a few more pints and a bit to eat. I was there by myself back in late 2009. Supper ended up bring a variety of minor cuts of meat. Cured and dried lamb, ox cheek and deviled lamb kidney that Jordan reported gave him dreams of zombies. Note the action photo of beer nerds at a feeding to the upper right pausing not to pray but to take digital photos. I suspect the great moral order gave him nightmares for that alone. The best thing – or a best thing – was the dimpled mugs of County Durham ale, the quiet capable and utterly unmarketed brewer to the west of Toronto. Black tea hopping did a great job cutting the rich bits of mammal and the accompanying sauces. Quiet downstairs as the place was packed watching the fitba upstairs. First time I encountered one of these, too.

After dinner, we marched south down Yonge through the PRIDE celebrations during which I realized what was going on in my mind. Toronto did not smell Toronto-ish. With so much of the downtown shut to cars and with it being Sunday not to mention one free from the heavy heat the city gets in summer, well, all the towers were washed with cool sweet lake air. One last stop at beerbistro! where a third local Ontario ale was the focus, Peterborough’s Publican House Square Nail pale ale. We passed on the Baladin investment opportunity as I suspected the owners might have wished they had. Baltimore slapped the Yanks on the big screen behind the bar.

On the way home, I hit Churchkey 40 km north of the 401 picking up a White IPA and a few strong brown ales, then carried on to Sharbot Lake for a few packs of bacon and sausage at Seed to Sausage apparently in celebration of my ale and meat themed trip. Or thus themed life. Drank many ales, ate many meats. Call the headstone carver.