You never know what is out there waiting to enrich your life in unexpected ways. The DVD sets of Dr. Who include clips of BBC “continuity” – meaning the bits between shows telling you what is coming up. Suddenly, I am back in my grandparents house in the 1970 visit to Scotland face glued to the inordinately sharp TV screen with all those extra lines and only four buttons for four channels.
Category: Me and Mine
Countdown To Christmas: I am Bagged
Bagged, I tell ya. Walking around the mall last night with a ten year old who was walking around the mall making sensible selections for a bunch of people as I handed out five dollar bills at the proper moments without flinching, discussing how Rihanna’s “Shut Up And Drive” has echos of Gary Newman’s “Cars” in the phase-shift syth, stopping at every grocery store around looking for large cuts of meat on sale, noting beef is on sale everywhere but never seen gia-norm-ous cuts (including a $55 joint the size of six cats tied together) are being placed on offer, standing in a line up at Tim Hortons only to be told that the mug someone wants for someone in all the TV ads sold out yoinks ago, enjoying the fact that my new YakTrax work so well, waiting to get home to post another thirteen prizes in the 2008 beer blog photo contest, staying up to midnight (even though I got up before five) to figure out the final seven prizewinners so that I don’t have to stay up to midnight tonight, eating the first duck we ever roasted for a vary late supper, marveling at how nice the house smells as the duck stock steeps.
I am bagged.
Pre-Drinking: What Is Old Is New Again
I am not sure what it is about journalists these days but they seem to have entirely forgotten what life was like in the 1980s. People seem to think that, you know, the special friends relationship of hooking up was invented by those with a Blackberry and that facing economic tough times is something that no one has coped with before. Odder, however, than forgetting the lax ways of amore and getting together with pals over a pot of weak tea is the idea that “pre-drinking” as described by the Toronto Star this morning is new:
Young people are engaging in a “new culture of intoxication” that even has its own buzzwords – “pre-drinking” or “pre-gaming.” If you’re a confused parent looking for a simple definition, just click on YouTube, or on urbandictionary.com, where it’s described as the “act of drinking alcohol before you go out to the club to maximize your fun at the club while spending the least amount on extremely overpriced alcoholic beverages.” This new form of binge drinking goes far beyond a warm-up to a night out with friends, says a new report by Centre for Addiction and Mental Health researcher Samantha Wells and two colleagues at the University of Toronto and University of Western Ontario. It’s an “intense, ritualized and unsupervised” drinkfest, in many cases perfectly timed so that the booze hits the bloodstream within minutes of stepping inside the bar, Wells said in a telephone interview from London, Ont.
Wow. They are “unsupervised” when they do this?!?!? Imagine that.
Did anyone involved with these studies ask a Maritimer who was in university a quarter century ago? Frankly, I still find it odd to be in a pub before ten in the evening given that the Halifax social scene required picking up a case (Nova Scotian for 12 beer) on the way home, having something for supper like K-D or oven fries and then landing at one house or another to, frankly, pound them back until it was time to get the taxi downtown. But these days I get all snoozy well too early for this sort of thing. I hardly make it to the end Num-Three-Ers on Friday night at eleven now. Yet somewhere some part of me is happy that gangs of the young are still being safely dumb in fun packs within reasonable parametres, singing at the tops of their lungs, turning into bags of seat as they slam-dance or whatever the kids are up to today.
Considering My Own Inherent Irrelevance
Sifting the tea leaves of the place of oneself in the blogosphere and in life is entirely a mug’s game. Only idiots care. Yet, I am an idiot. It struck me yesterday when I reviewed the detailed commentary James Bow has written on the 2008 Canadian Blog Awards. Admittedly, it has been some time since I was nominated for these sorts of things and I can take my ego massaging from other sources but something struck me when I read the candidates for Best Blog in Canada – and realized I never heard of any of them. They may well have never heard of me either as they were blogging in a different way, not using the cut, paste and comment format that I along with most Oldie Olson bloggers use. They are pretty good, too.
Then, I got fiddling with the settings on Google Analytics to figure out what that could tell me. One of new features with mt bloggy systems upgrades is the server stats are gone. Once upon a time, back around the summer of 2005 or so, I think I could count almost 11,000 visits a day to this blog according to mt server stats. Now Google Analytics tells me that on 23 November 2008 Gen x 40 had 118 visits. The beer blog gets almost seven times that traffic now. I know it is all apples to oranges. Back in the day, every bot and spam was counted and now RSS readers are left out. Yet the message is clear. I write on this site for Hans and a few others. Yet I write and I enjoy the writing.
But it isn’t really just about the blog, is it. We all know that. David sent me a link by Twitter the other day that proves it. In itself, even the choice of medium was telling. He didn’t leave a comment because blogs are really so 2004. The link he sent me was to a Washington Postarticle entitled “The Dumbest Generation: The Kids Are Alright. But Their Parents …” in which my cohort, early Generation X, are shown to be the biggest bunch of losers in recent decades, maybe centuries. Now, to be clear, we knew that already. That is the whole point of me and my peeps. The slacker generation was not a slacker generation out of choice. Growing up in the era of recession after recession, there was no point in effort. But the article is perhaps a little to close to the bone on this core generational fact:
Whatever you call them (I’ll just call them early Xers), the numbers are clear: Compared with every other birth cohort, they have performed the worst on standardized exams, acquired the fewest educational degrees and been the least attracted to professional careers. In a word, they’re the dumbest. Obviously, we’re talking averages. No one would apply the word “dumb” to Barack Obama (born in 1961) or Timothy F. Geithner, his nominee for secretary of the Treasury (born in the same month). Yet the president-elect himself has written eloquently about how hard it was for him and his peers to obtain a serious education during their dazed-and-confused teen years. Like it or not, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin (born in 1964), who stumbled over basic civics facts during her vice presidential run, is more representative of this group. Early Xers are the least bookish CEOs and legislators the United States has seen in a long while. They prefer sound bites over seminars, video clips over articles, street smarts over lofty diplomas. They are impatient with syntax and punctuation and citations…
Ouch. Kick in the goolies ouch. Yet here I am in pajamas, waylayed by a cold my grandfather would not recognize as a cold, writing on a blog no one reads, torturing the language as my grade 8 teacher told me I did and sluffing off of the things I ought to be doing on a Sunday morning. I am as I ought to be: looking forward to a game on the TV so that I can nap through more than half of it as the snow collects outside, unshovelled.
Now With More Greenock Than Ever!
One of the more actually useful things on the internet is the opportunity to find family records of some sort. Three years ago I found – and bought – a picture of my Grannie who passed away over 50 years ago. Eldest brother has been doing some digging as has Faither and an interesting observation can be made. My mother’s grandparents were married at “A” above. My father’s grandparents were married a few streets away. Both weddings occurred around 120 years ago.
Even in that era, each party might still have gone to the Morton game after as part of the celebrations, the club then about a decade into existence.
Apparently Beer Is, In Fact, The Affordable Luxury
Last December, I suggested that we may see a bump of sorts in beer sales in response to the recession in the US. In another in a series of events that prove that, yes, if enough monkeys used typewriters one could write sonnets, it appears I may well have been right as The Washington Post notes, via a twittery h/t to Cizauskas:
…this time around is different. Smoking has fallen into such ill repute that many municipalities ban it. Fuel costs have made driving or flying to a casino a pricey proposition, and gambling has become almost an afterthought at many of the lavish new ones. Now it seems the only acceptable — and affordable — sin left is alcohol, namely beer. “It’s really considered a consumer staple kind of industry,” said Dan Ahrens, author of the book “Investing in Vice.” He put it on par with toothpaste, or, say, soap. “People gotta drink no matter what’s going on with the economy.” More than 16 million barrels of domestic beer were sold in the United States in July, and annual sales through that month are up 1.4 percent, the largest increase since 1990, when the economy was headed toward a recession…
So not only is beer affordable but, in this time of downturn or at least stagnation, there are fewer and fewer acceptable sins available to the average American, who on average, has a bit less to spend. I still think this means craft brewers need to focus on the low-price end of the their brands.
The high end of beer pricing is moving in the wrong direction, however. When I was beer shopping down south this year, I saw beer in the $20 and even over $30 range for the first time. I declined even though I have some advertising support for my sin spending. I did buy a $20 De Ranke Kriek but that was only because I am obsessed. But I was not snookered at all by those offerings as a quick review of my sales slip shows a great number of great beers for a great price – Harviestoun Ola Dubh 12 for $8, a small bottle from Meantime for $3.50, large Bernardus 12 for $10 plus a large number of great new New England craft beers for even less than half of those prices.
My point? Beer is the affordable sin not just as a budget recourse to easy mindless comfort but because it still can provides great value for extraordinary products in tight times.
29 Yards At 45 Years
It was seeing photos from last year that got me going – 22,545 sit-ups since 23 September 2007 plus a whole bunch of other stuff. Yet, as far as I can tell, I probably have not changed my outline all that much. Hmmm. Could it be the beer? Really? Well, I suppose I might as well have started writing “A Good Cheesecake and Lard Pastry Blog”. Fortunately, within the walrus is the cheetah – my new mantra – that is what the blood test say…honest. So even though I could not get last year’s 30 yarder, there is plenty of time in 2008 to improve on the 29 yard field goal of today. I am well placed for a break through. I see it all now.
The Hieronymi Were Here…As Were Steve and John!
So beer writers Stan and Daria and family were here getting a break from the camper on their world beer tour 2008. As it turned out, so were Steve from Beau’s and John o’ Church-key. Between them the lads drove 500 km to get here and as much to get home – nothing compared, however, to the Hieronymi land cruiser which hit the 10,000 mile mark yesterday. And, after hours of great beer and some good chow I threw together, I came away from what I will call the first Kingston Symposium on Craft Brewing realizing I pretty much know nothing about beer. Zippo.
Hanging around with such people of the beer is always a great education but listening to two such knowledgeable beer thinkers as Stan and Daria (who is also a recent winner on Jeopardy) over a whole evening with two of Canada’s most interesting young brewers was pretty amazing. Not to go blow by blow through the beers but I shared some Ontarians including our local Barley Day’s Wind and Sail Dark, some Stuart’s Natural and made some fairly snazzy scallops in a pan with a slug of Wellington Dark. Good Ontario and Quebec craft cheeses also shared the table.
We talked about beer price and value, the regulatory challenges of the Ontario market and the Canadian border as well as the opportunities a province that is trying hard to catch up to our southern neighbours provides. We also poured bottles of Steve and John’s brews including Beau’s flagship kolsche and Church-key’s West Coast IPA – as well as half year cellared bottles of Bog Water and Lactese Falcon, that beer that begs to be next to a rib-eye. Each of these showed really well and, in their comparison, begged the question as to which better expressed Ontario-ness: the traditional Algonquin Park canoe trip invocating bog myrtle or the funky blue cheese tang of the beer of the 22nd century. I just made that up. I am sure John will pick it up as the LT’s catch phrase.
To finish, we popped the tangy spicy dry and quite fascinating Fuego del Otono, a seasonal chestnut beer which is also very under-priced from Jolly Pumpkin. Stan and Daria had passed Dexter on a Saturday when the brewery was not open so it was fair to include it in their year-long continent hopping search for the essence of global local beer. By the way, that last beer is one of the ones that make me think there should be a web based auction for craft beer where beer lovers could set out what they would pay for a beer. If Ron at Jolly Pumpkin would set me aside a mixed case of beer like Fuego del Otono for pick up when I am in the neighbourhood, I would definitely pay $11.99 or a bit more compared to the $8.99 I paid for this one last fall at the ever excellent Bello Vino of Ann Arbor. Other beers of the moment might not get such a price boost from the set you own auction, if my suspicions are correct.
In the end, one in the morning came far too soon and, as with the best gatherings like this, I came away having added understanding as well as happily convinced in how little I still really know. There is so much to learn about good beer. For one thing, I now crave New Glarus Spotted Cow and may have to drive to Wisconsin just to get me some more.
Notes From A Stay-cation
I don’t mind “stay-cation” except that you can’t spell it without the hyphen. Better than being called an unimaginative twerb who can’t get it together enough to take the family camping. I have excuses – I always have excuses. First, family reunion on Saturday. Then, the annual vintage base ball game that got rained out yesterday. Today, a beer writer or two visit as part of their multi-continental trip. So even though we are at home, we are getting something of an edjification.
I hope I don’t just watch TV but the twisted back makes that a possibility. I watched the ESPYs last night, thinking they would be lame. Best TV awards show ever. Justin Timberlake was a dreamy host – I say no more for fear of affecting my cred. Now, on a Monday morning in July, I hunt in vain for reruns of Mr. Dress-up and The Friendly Giant. What the heck has happened to the CBC? Thank God, I can at least look forward to Elwood Glover’s Luncheon Date at noon to go with my egg salad and parsley sandwiches.
Belgium: Canaster, De Glazen Toren, Erpe-Mere
Here is a hint when you are traveling. If, after a tiring 600 km drive (to be followed the next day by another 600 km drive) you notice contract street sweeping equipment in the parking lot, get a new hotel. Street sweepers come and go in the night, you see. After idling their massive engines for fifteen minutes or so. It was like sleeping in a public works depot.
My only consolation was the bottle of Canaster I had brought. Labeled as a winterscotch-style ale I had brought it along as a reward for being me. It’s by the same good folk at KleinBrouwerij De Glazen Toren who made that saison I had last Thanksgiving. The beer is basically a Belgian brown with plenty of round brown maltiness, burlappy nutmegged yeast and some black tea and perhaps black malt astringency. It pours a thick sheeting cream head over chestnut ale. In the malt there is date and maybe dark raisin with a bit of a tobacco effect. It could have done with another something something but it was a very pleasant 9.5% brew that came across nothing as big as that. Plenty of BAer approval.
Not needing anything was the bottle of The Lactese Falcon Flanders Sour Brown Ale I picked up at Church-Key on the way home – you know, as a reward for being me. Yum – but I like the tastes of Parmesan cheese and Flemish sour beer and here they are in one brew. Plenty of roasted beef broth notes, vanilla, pear juice, balsamic, Worcestershire and Parmesan. Herself gets only molasses on schnozzal analysis. Somewhat controversial when it first appeared, here is a beer that intends to be itself – and one that may sort the style huggers from the brave and the free. I have another put away for a long sleep. I want to make sauces with it, soak meat in it – make welsh rarebit with it.