Week 11? Exit 4

Tea. He decided to have tea this morning. He ate his usual breakfast, 2 egg whites and a slice of 12 grain toast. He took the dog for his normal 0.8 mile walk. He had Good Morning America on in the next room. The tea, at least, made this morning a little unusual. He couldn’t bear another morning of Columbian decaf with skim milk and Splenda. He just needed something different this morning.

He dreaded having to drive his wife’s car. He hadn’t thought the idea of his daughter driving to South Carolina on her own was a wise one. She promised she’d take her time, and stop when she was tired. But, Maine to South Carolina, by yourself, was quite a trip for someone who had just gotten her license. He wondered how far she got since last night.

He responded to a work-related email, something about ASSF. He was urging his client to purchase this penny stock but secretly all he was thinking is why they would choose such a symbol. He couldn’t type it without thinking something dirty. He hadn’t noticed how long the shouting had been coming from the living room. The television was loud with screams and crying. He assumed it was footage from a bombing somewhere he didn’t care about. Some third world country like Iraq, Afghanistan, or Scotland.

He wondered if his wife would notice the tea spot on the hard wood floor if he left it there. His curiosity was now peaked and it couldn’t be stopped merely from a small rogue raindrop of tea that had leaped from his coffee mug labeled “Don’t Touch Daddy’s Coffee”.

“..and all we know is this is a type of precipitation we’ve never seen before”, the voice said. This wasn’t a subdued Robin Roberts, this was a frantic faceless voice of concern. And this wasn’t Scotland. This seemed like New York. Was Scotland a third world country? He wondered why he would make that connection as an image of Mel Gibson in a kilt vanished from his mind. “Yes, Sam, it seems dangerous, if not down right deadly”, the man continued. The shot on his screen was clearly from inside the morning show’s studios, capturing what was unfolding outside. There were no fans holding signs. There was not the hustle and bustle of an 8:16am morning in Manhattan. Instead there was black and red on everything. There were people lying in the streets, some crawling, some still. He hadn’t noticed it was raining in New York. It was the furthest thing from his mind until the man said “This isn’t rain. It isn’t snow. We….we don’t know what it is. It’s something different.”

It still seemed far away, New York. He rushed to his window and was greeted by a warm sunny day and his neighbor’s dog shitting on his lawn. He ran upstairs for his cell phone, which was still charging from the night before. The phone rang just as he made it to the top. It was her. “Lynn?” he quickly asked. She was crying. She was hysterical. She couldn’t put together a sentence. All he wanted to know was if she was okay. He asked a third time. She finally answered, “I think so. I’m in my car.” After gaining a little of her senses she continued, “I stopped early last night. I was exhausted. I just started this morning and something happened. It started raining black and my car stalled. It won’t start now and it feels like my tire is flat. I can’t move.” He asked if she called 911. She told him she couldn’t get through. He wondered if that was even possible. “Dad, people are hurt….people from other cars…they got out when their cars stopped and...dad, people are hurt. I don’t know what to do.”

Inside he was frantic but hid it from his only child. He asked where she was. He had to get to her. “I’m on the New Jersey turnpike. I can see an exit sign but it’s covered in black…it’s…it’s 4. I’m at exit 4.” He told her to stay in her car and keep calling the police. “Daddy. My battery is at 10%. What if you need to call me?” He told her he was on his way to get her. He didn’t know how. All he knew is that he already missed the normalcy of Columbian decaf with skim milk and Splenda.

This week’s beer is Exit 4 by New Jersey’s Flying Fish Beer Company. I liked it.

Week 9: Stone Double Bastard 10.5% ABV

Hans Gruber and Col. Stewart. Gannon and Bowser. Hell, even those guys up there. All great examples of bastards. But all of those don't compare to this 10.5% malt and hop bomb from Stone. At the same time, this is the ultimate yin and yang beer, with a delicate balance of hops that wallop your taste buds and a sweet maltiness that cools it down. Your mouth doesn't stay cooler than a witch's tit in December for long, because the alcohol burn sets in pretty quick.
About half way through the bottle, I began to think that the double bastards of Jim Carey and Tommy Lee Jones made for a good evil pair in Batman Forever. And man, if you start thinking that movie was any good, you know the beer is hitting you hard.

Week 8: Life and Limb 10% ABV

Phone: "Ring Ring Rreeeeeiing"

Sierra Nevada: "Hello"

Dogfish Head: "Yo-daddio"

Dogfish Head: "Dude, you guys make good beers n stuff."

Sierra Nevada: "Ch-ya"

Dogfish Head: "So like, you wanna go out?"

Sierra Nevada: "Like go steady go out?"

Dogfish Head: "Yeah like collaborate and maybe go to the mall afterwards"

Sierra Nevada: "Like, whatever"

Dogfish Head: "Rock on, well you start making a beer and then I'll add some secret sauce"

Sierra Nevada: "uhhhhhh"

Dogfish Head: "Not that secret sauce, I'm thinking something more like Maple Syrup"

Sierra Nevada: "As long as you're paying, whatever"

Sierra Nevada: "You know I have a yeast problem right?"

Dogfish Head: "It's cool I've got some wood we can use"

Sierra Nevada: "I have wood too"

Dogfish Head: "Ok thats creepy"

Sierra Nevada: "Ch-yaaa"

Dogfish Head: "......."

Dogfish Head: "Does this mean no date to the mall?"

Sierra Nevada: " :)"

Sierra Nevada: "Bye"

Dogfish Head: "Lates"

Week 7: Russian River Redemption 5% ABV

Like all the greats quests of lore; Amerigo Vespucci's trip to Amerigo's Land, Ulysses' Odyssey to bang Sea Sirens, Frodo Baggins and Temple of Doom, so to was Don's quest to the far off country of Caleef Fornia in search of LARP'ers unknown! Dressed in regalia that of a perhaps a half Blood Elf, Don fought wizards and warriors by day, and drank great beer by night. In a convention center that would make members of GWAR blush, Don discussed the intricacies of rolling a d20 against a level 12 Frost Mage, which as we all know, makes any Death Knight thirsty. To quench his monster thirst, Don quested to the Mines of Moria also know as the Russian River Brewery in search of the Treasures of Azeroth, also known as Beer. After slaying the dragon guarding the horde, and a $55 dollar surcharge, Don returned to Newt Hampshire Hollow victorious with his bounty of grog for all to see!!! Behold and Rejoice serfs!!! Redemption Ale for all!!!

Week 6: Gritty's Best Bitter 5.00% ABV

This weeks beer holds a special placard in my repertoire of beers. Back when the author was a wee heavy lad of not drinking age, Gritty's was the go to beer of choice. The plan usually revolved around finding a friend of drinking age, usually "Dumbweed Dunphe" and having them order a pitcher at some place on the docks of the Old Port. Like a suckling pig weaning to health on the teat of mothers milk, so to was a young lad learning the flavors of the world on carafe after carafe of Gritty's Best Bitter. Ahh the sweat nectar of life!

Week 5: Long Trail Triple Bag 9.20%ABV

The Urban Dictionary defines Triple Bag as "before engaging in sex with a butt ugly chick, you place one paper bag over her head, one over your head in case the first one breaks and one over your dog so that he still respects you in the morning." The same can be said for anyone lucky enough to pound a couple of these beers, because you'll surely regret it the next morning. Moooo!

Week 4: Old Rasputin Imperial Stout ABV 9%

I do a lot of reading. One of my favorite subjects is history. There was this feller by the name of Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin, went by plain Rasputin to his friends. As a kid Rasputin and his younger brother were out swimming in a river and he saved his kid brother from drowning. Folks in the town attributed it to mystical powers. By the time he was a teenager, Rasputin had a harem of prostitutes and was a bit of a deviant you could say. Life was going pretty good for him and he started rubbing shoulders with the Tsar and his gentry up in Saint Petersburg. Rasputin was something of a shaman, and as such he did not keep clean facilities about himself. Folks did not take kindly to him. One night a rival of the Tsar up and decided to kill old Rasputin. Here's where it gets interesting. They invited him to a party and poisoned his tea and cake loaded up with enough cyanide to drop an oxen to his knees, but dang if Rasputin didn't flinch. So like any good assassin, they shot him in the back. C'ept that didn't kill him neither. When the killer went to get his coat, Rasputin got up and cold cocked him one. So they stabbed him, clubbed him, and shot him in the back three more times and cut off his unmentionables for good measure. Thinking the job was done, they wrapped him in a shawl and threw him into a frozen river. Course when the autopsy came back... he had water in his lungs, so the official cause of death was drowning. Anyway I digress. Since this supposed to be a beer blog about beer, I thought my sorted story would relax what ails ya, and prompt you to pop a cold one. I'll leave you with two pictures up above. One Rasputin BEFORE a six'er of Old Rasputin Imperial Stout, and one is a picture of him AFTER.

Week 3: Dogfish Head Pangaea ABV 7%

Falling Waters graced us with this fine selection from everyone's perennial favorite brewery Dogfish Head. This brewery was named after a point in Maine, and if you asked anyone where Dogfish Head was, they would surely tell you about two feet from it's ass! In all seriousness, this is a solid brau, spicy, meaty, with tons of flavor. Mad scientist and Keanu Reeves stand-in Sam Calagione created this beer by incorporating ingredients from all seven continents, a homage to the all powerful super landmass that existed back in the days when Jesus rode dinosaurs. The Dogfish Head site suggests the beer be consumed with food. Since they're not specific as to "which" food, that leaves billions of possible pairings to choose from. Being a bit of an eccentric mad scientist myself, I paired this beer with a kale and garlic salad, 3 grain wild rice with apples and Panko encrusted woodcock and partridge breast sauteed in bacon grease. NOM NOM. Sam was right, this beer pairs well with any food. I finished the rest of the bottle in front of a fire and watched satellites buzz overhead, endlessly circling the fractured Pangaea below.

Week 2: Allagash Tripel ABV 9%

This weeks selection was the Belgian especial from Allagash. Since it was my week to choose a beer, I decided to go with a hometown favorite. Also, since everyone blew off reviewing my beer, I'm going to sum it up in one phrase. Drinking this beer is like spending warm summer days indoors, writing frightening verses to a bucktoothed girl in Luxembourg. It's the bomb, the bomb, the bomb.

Escondidian Imperial Black IPA by Stone

Lets start this bitch up.

Skinny Pete graciously provided us with the inaugural beer tasting selection for Beer Club, Stone's 15th Anniversary Imperial Black IPA. What better beer to come home to after a day of totally F*#%'n up production for the entire company? The first pour, good head (heh), and black as a witches teet. My first impression was 'this is a harsh mother' and I recoiled at the thought of drinking an entire bomber. 20 minutes later I'm writing this post, I've finished the SOB and I'm drunk as hell. Money well spent. I'm not going to be poetic here, but it tastes like someone injected a Black Stout with a jizzload of IPA firepower, and the result was a thalidomide baby of drunkeness. Daddy like. Nice ABV, smooth flavor, 3.5 out of 4 drunken monks (shout out to Jon Roy)