The Spelunker's Guide to CHC Brewing

Recently, our resident brewmaster, Bim, allowed one of his closest confidantes, a bohemian, skirt chasing spelunker "or chocolate starfish invader" named "Jason" a chance to taste and rate one of our GGBF (Great Guatemalan Beer Festival) winning home brews, the sultry and delicious Pole-smoker Porter......As usual, madness then ensues..


"Jason" said...What follows is a rating of a beer provided to me by Beerclub member Bim. This is one of his vaunted home brews. I've heard that brewers like to use something about themselves in choosing the name of their beers. Bim chose Polesmoker. How appropriate. As I crack open the label-deprived bottle, the first thing to hit me is the aroma. The sweet, slightly hoppy smell caresses my olfactory sense with a promise of good things to come. It never delivers. The first sip conjured up an image of someone ringing a dirty dish rag out in my mouth. You know, one that had been balled up in the sink and never quite dried out. The second was how I would imagine it would taste dumping a jar of old pennies in my mouth that had been collected from a wet alleyway in Detroit. The third sip would be akin to licking the taint of an Indian (dot not feather) curry salesman in August in Calcutta. Each sip successively worse, to the point where I am unable to prucure further vomit inducing imagery. Here lies the problem: I am quite familiar with your own rating system, but I believe it to be lacking when it comes to this particular beer. You see, RFG is the pinnacle. It aptly proclaims "This beer is Really Fucking Good" with boldness. On the opposite end is "Sucks." Whereas it tells the audience that the beer is obviously terrible, it lacks the panache of the RFG. Just as Superman needs his Lex Luthor, RFG needs it's polar opposite, it's antithesis, it's biblical "east from west" analogy. Therefore necessity rightly brings the RFB, the Really Fucking Bad. Polesmoker has found it's home.



Beer Club 4 Men's reply?..

Thank you “Jason” (if that is your real name) for your unsolicited, yet insightful review. We at the CHC Brewery strive to bring you the finest craft beers. Like our idol, Sam Calagione from Dogfish Head, we travel the globe to find the most unique and flavorful beer ingredients. We are amazed that your distinguished palate was able to correctly name each of these specialty additives. Snake spent 4 long summer months in Calcutta, every day carefully collecting the taint juice of our sweaty curry salesman Samir Banglev. And the dishrag you identified, while very close, was actually an old, wet towel used to clean the urinal splatter in the men’s room of an I-95 rest area. But your best identification came with the pennies. Bim Jr collected pennies for a year, which we then scattered in a Norfolk alley letting them marinate in bum urine and the elements for 12 months before being collected and added to our beer during secondary fermentation. Your ability to discern the subtle taste of decaying copper is truly a gift. We submitted our Polesmoker Porter to Beer Advocate for tasting, but their review was only three words: “Tastes like shit”. You sir, not only have a gifted palate but are also quite the wordsmith. Our hats off to you “Jason”.

BC4M Founding Father Bim

Stifler's Big Surprise

From the title, I'm sure that you readers fully expect some type of penis jokes as being the "big surprise". Not here. The BC4M is a very serious group. We never resort to genitalia jokes, boob shots, or Fred telling off-color jokes for cheap laughs. So what was Stifler's Big Surprise? It was the fact that the Beach Brewing Company has a new beer... And it's good! This one is a double IPA called Hoptopus (8.8%). It is by far their best effort (even by our lame standards). A little sweet, a little hoppy, easily drinkable with enough alcohol to get your buzz on and make things interesting. In fact, this stuff has such an alcohol punch that the first time we got together as a group to sample it, the BC4M looked more like a skid row drinking binge with bodies strewn all over the place. Bim and Wilder were located in the back yard, totally wasted, while Snake and Fred were located hours later in a completely different part of town, mumbling incoherently, and D-rail, well, the picture speaks for itself. This stuff may well be the Four Loco version of IPA's. Even Ken was impressed as he declared, "at least it doesn't smell like Fred Flintstone's ass". Despite the near alcohol poisoning, the taste is really good and the beer rated such. With a little more hop flavor this one could be spectacular. If you haven't sampled this beer, get over to Beach and get some before it all disappears.

Irish Eyes are Smiling

The smell of spring was in the air as we bid a fond adieu (which according to Crazy Ken is either Lithuanian or Portuguese for "fuck you") to the cold winter by participating in that most red-blooded and patriotic of American holidays, St. Patrick's Day. What says warm weather is almost here more than watching our fellow countrymen dressing up in garish spandex and silk pantaloons, coloring both their hair as well as their cheap ass Coors and Bud Light's a puke inducing shade of kelly green while pretending to like corned beef and cabbage more than this sacred calender event that according to noted BC4M historian Bim somehow always manages to fall on March 17th. One bonus to this festive occasion where we are deluged with images of moss covered blarney stones,four leaf clovers and rainbow greeting cards is that it does give every guy over the age of say twenty-five a free pass to eat all the bowls of Lucky Charms he wants. St Patrick's Day is also however, uniquely special to Fred as his feisty bride, a half-Irish brunette fully loaded pistol by the name of Darby O'Hooterhan had in fact come into the world a'kickin and knocking back shots of Jameson's one blustery Saint Patty's morn a "couple o" years back. Fred recalled the time back when as a young schoolboy known throughout academia for his ability to "mack" on slightly older "ladies" that he had been instantly smitten and shot through the heart by a bright eyed vixen one Friday afternoon while watching a commercial for that most original Irish treat, the Shamrock Shake. Little Miss Darby was a former child actress that had made her impression that day on young Fred that caused him to spend his entire adolescence chasing after her like a beagle hound runnin' rabbits. She had always managed to stay a step ahead of our Flintstonian idiot savant until one momentous day back in August of '85 somewhere on the outskirts of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Darby, a classically trained ballerina, was one of the sensational new stars of the hit TV show featuring the latest in pop music and dancing , Solid Gold. Fred, in town to judge the 44th annual Asses and Elbows "Naked Beer Pulling" tournament had drunkenly accepted a dare to join his future bride onstage and had subsequently shocked the live studio audience with a sultry and suggestive salsa routine that caused the producers to cut to a Maypax commercial to prevent receiving a FCC fine for indecency. The two have been inseparable ever since, and Fred's fledgling dance career would still be ongoing if it wasn't for a torn scrotum tendon he suffered while performing the dreaded "banana split" maneuver at a Des Moines area bachelorette party while entertaining a few lady farmers from an area 4H club called, "The Shuck Yous". To celebrate Darby's birthday, the girls and boys of the hood gathered at Johnny Wilder's to share in traditional Irish fare such as salsa and chips, pretzel rods and crab dip. The BC4M decided there was no better way to honor our beloved and energy filled Irish princess than to rate a few beers with her in attendance. We began to gather around the table when out of the windswept night air came Bim, our resident neurosurgeon dressed up as his famous alter-ego, naughty leprechaun Dr. Seamus McKochenbawls, in full regalia looking ready and certainly willing to perform free hernia exams. Other than D-Rail, who is always looking for any variety of ball frisking, we declined the offer and were instead thankful he had brought all 4 varieties of Guinness currently available. First up were both the Guinness Draught Bottle (4.2%) and Guinness Draught Can (4.2%). Now, we realize that every flannel wearing mush-mouth down in Possum Holler thinks that pounding a case of these while singing "O' Danny Boy" with his potted meat slurping cousins is what "real" Irish folk do on St Pat's. Most Americans also think drinking these beers is like chocking down "motor oil" without knowing they have about as much liquor in them as virgin coochberry daiquiris. The taste of both were thin and watery, and having tasted several great stouts, we were completely disappointed in both of these and gave them each a so-so. Next was a Guinness Imported Extra Stout (6.0%) which fared slightly better but had a distinctively charred finish that was quite unique. "Tastes like bilge runoff from a trash barge" said our fearless pirate hunter Tank. Akin to a weak black IPA, this one was still decent so it got a good. Guinness Foreign Extra Stout (7.5%) was shared next while we rocked out to a video of an Irish drinking song starring our very own sidewalk surfing Johnny Wilder, "Drunken Lullabies". This version is supposedly the Guinness you get when you're across the "pond", and it tastes much better than the decidedly watery versions found in both the bottle and can. A very subtle hint of delicious sour was left on your tongue as you drank it and so it rated a good. Next was a Schlafly Irish Style Extra Stout (8.0%). Pouring out with an explosive head like a caramel colored volcano, this one is very tasty combining a rich malty base with a slightly powerful alcohol punch. A solid good, we then tried a Carlow Brewing O'Hara's Irish Red (4.3%). About the only thing they got right with this one was the color, as it tasted like they had steeped the beer with a used tampon from a Bolivian street walker that had just finished servicing half of the Chinese army. "That shit is awful" said Fred, who like the rest of us , poured this swill out as quick as we could. We moved on to a Harp Lager (5.0%), the true partner to an authentic "black and tan". For all of you yahoo's that mix Guinness with Bass, just remember, thats mixing Irish and English, which isn't a good thing. Upon opening, we were greeted with a barnyard aroma that Crazy Ken described as, "an albino skunk that just pissed on my tongue and left me hanging". "All of the funk, none of the flavor" added Wilder as we agreed that while not quite as bad as the O'Hara's, it was barely drinkable and only rated a so-so. Next was a Clipper City Heavy Seas Aarsh! (7.0%), another red ale that this time actually used actual beer ingredients. Smooth and slightly malty, Snake said, "I could sure drink this shit all day". Much better than the previous two beers, this one was another solid good, so we continued with a Moylan's NorCal IPA (6.9%). The BC4M loves west coast IPA's, but this one seemed to hail from the west coast of Indonesia cause it was as dry as a post menopausal stripper and not hoppy at all. Hoping to cure our tongues of dehydration, we then poured a Mendocino Imperial IPA (8.0%). "This crap is about as Irish as a chorizo and jalapeno quesadilla" said the half Irish, half Welsh and half Scottish Snake as we forged ahead and were rewarded with yet another asstastic masterpiece. "Just fucking awful", said Bim, as yet another beer that while cheap as fuck and readily available still received the dreaded sucks rating. No flavors, no hops, and nothing but a syrupy mess was all we found in this supposed "imperial" IPA. The final beer of the night was a Ska Brewing Decadent Imperial IPA (10.0%). This one also has nothing to do with being Irish, although the label does features a picture of the BC4M's newest workout warrior, Crazy Ken who has dramatically lost over 50 pounds in the the last 2 weeks by drinking nothing but cabbage juice and papaya root cocktails and doing "hot yoga" 6 mornings a week with a few of his "buddies". The taste was decent, but it in all reality, brewers need to realize that if you can't make something remotely close to Pliny, then it shouldn't be labeled an Imperial IPA. Since it wasn't offensive and it did seem to contain at least one hop leaf, we gave it a good. And so we had come to the end of our session, as Fred said he had some "house cleaning" to take care of with Darby back at the homestead. We bid the lovebirds a fond farewell as we stumbled home green with envy. Until next time, a toast to all our loyal readers, Slainte! and ól suas bitches

An evening with Beavis and Butthead

The privileged few that are honored enough to be called members of the BC4M represent the very elite of Virginia society. Within our ranks we have a world renowned big game hunter, a "professional services director", a karaoke champion, a cruise ship skipper, a constable, a luge specialist, an animal rights activist, a security specialist and a member of Mensa. In an effort to expand our ranks and spread the gospel according to the BC4M, we recently invited a pair of fellow sophisticates over for an evening of gentlemanly banter and beer tasting. Even though we had heard the horror stories of how they had corrupted young Gabe from our favorite local beer store, Grape and Gourmet during one of his monthly "slumber parties", we took a chance and invited them over anyway. Both guys are transplants to an area most craft beer lovers like to refer to as the "Beermuda Triangle" due to the shallowness of the local beer culture. Chicago Mike was recently forced to resign from his position as a troubled teen camp leader after it was discovered he was selling "gently" used copies of Juggs magazine to the horny lads that populated his summer camps. A revered home brewer known throughout the Midwest, he made his way to Va. Beach with an idea to start a craft brew revolution that would rival the great beer meccas of America. He had found his partner in crime when he stumbled across the shaggy haired brewmaster at local upstart Beach Brewing. Jean-Pierre LaDouche had also recently made the Beach his hometown after a stellar career as the tasting room supervisor at Iron City Beer. Working his way up from spent grain sweeper his career path to head brewer appeared to be unstoppable until a "drunken video" was spotted on the internet which had ended his career and caused him to go on a 3 week bender that saw him wake up in Key West in the middle of Fantasy fest. After a raucous day trip to the state capital performing beer enemas with the unsuspecting owner of Legend Brewing the boys arrived looking as excited as a pair of escaped convicts at a Liberace concert. Having appeared to not eaten all day, they hungrily scarfed down 3 pounds of beefstick and a cauldron of cheese dip like a pair of rabid donkeys. We got down to business with a Pliny the Elder that Chicago had brought with him and of course, it was simply amazing. He firmly believes there are "10 IPA's better than Pliny" but we still haven't tasted any so until we do, this one is the fucking king. We moved on to a growler of Duck Rabbit Baltic Porter (9.0%) that Mike had scored on a recent excursion to the brewery. Dark, with a good nose and malty without any hop profile at all, this one was still a solid good and was the best beer from these guys we have tried. Next was a gift for Tank as he had recently turned 51 and we decide we would crack open a special beer to honor him. Deschutes Jubel 2010 (10%) is brewed once a DECADE or as Bim said, "it says its brewed every ten years". Smooth as silk, with a thick body like the bootyliscious backside of Beyonce, it was ultra rich and tasty. "That's damn good" said Crazy, as Snake declared, "That shit was worth the wait". A really good, we then poured another gift from Chicago, a Schloss Eggenburg Samichlaus 2006 (14%). We have tried a few of their beers before and frankly thought they should give up beer and maybe go into gay German porn, but this was truly an amazing beer. The years have allowed the alcohol to mellow, and this "malt liquor" was in the words of Jean-Pierre "like a bottle of alcoholic syrup, but still freakin good". Snake asked, "when is that fucking bull gonna charge through the wall, I need one to mount over my mantle." "Hey man, don't be moving in on my territory said the always on the lookout for cuddlies to play with Bim. Another really good, we then tried a collaboration beer from Mikkeller and DeStruise "Elliot Brew" (9.0%). Normally both of these guys make some fucking awesome beers, but this one was simply awful. Bim said, "its a palate destroyer" while Chicago Mike added, "its like a loofa for your tongue, scrubs the fuck out of it and not in a good way". So-so was the grade as we were very disappointed in this one and moved on to a Losch-Zwerg Radler (2.7%). This is a beer sorta like an English shandy that is known in Germany for causing men to grow tits and sprout manginas. Fred said, "I have had slurpees with more ass than this nonsense", as Bim added, "I could pass a urinalysis with ease after gulping a case of these bitches". "Is this a Diet Sprite?" asked Crazy Ken, as we all agreed that despite the pussification of this "beer" it wasn't that bad so it rated a good. Next up was a Lost Abbey Angel's Share (12.5%), a bourbon barrel aged bottle of pure delight that caused Tank to say "Awww man, thats soooooooooo smooooth". Wilder said, "like the hot ditch with some color, but packing some heat in this mofo". It has a sweet bourbony smell and the taste is decadent with a huge smack in the chops of alcohol that still won't overwhelm you. A really good was the score, so we then opened a Three Floyd's Dark Lord 2009 (15%). We had RFG'd the 2010 version so we were hopeful that we had come upon another but it fell just short of joining its more amazing brother. The taste was smooth but was a tad bit watery according to Fred, and the vote was split, 2 RFG's and 2 really goods, so we had to abide by the covenants and bylaws of the club and gave it a really good. Only three beers remained, so we opened a pair of cans of 21st Amendment Monk's Blood (8.3%). Supposedly brewed with figs (what the fuck?), it got mixed reviews from the crowd. Tank who was by then just a little drunk, smiled and said "man, what a great wednesday" when we asked him his opinion of the beer. "Tastes like paint mixed with tequila" according to Snake, while Jean-Pierre (who was also smashed by now) decided in a voice that would rival a carnival barker's that it "was like a pubic hair from a smurf I was eating" whatever the fuck that means. So-so was the result, so we pried the top off a Olde Hickory Black Raven IPA (7.0%). Unlike their phenomenal Death by Hops, this one is like drinking the rainwater that runs down your freshly asphalted driveway that they jackwads coated with Roundup. No hop flavors and zero malt caused us all to wonder why it was even bottled. Sucks was the result so we hoped for the best as we pulled out the final beer of the night, a Hoppin Frog D.O.R.I.S. the Destroyer (10.5%). We love their beer but hate their gay Kermit the frog label, I mean what the fuck is that bullshit about?. This one is supposed to be even better than both the BORIS the Crusher and Barrel Aged BORIS that we have been blown away by. A double Russian imperial stout, we were shocked that it didn't live up to the hype as it needs a ton of time to age. "Like an 18 year old stripper with fake tits she just bought, she needs to learn how to use them" said Bim as we agreed that this one would probably be upgraded after a year or so of aging. As we finished our beers, we decided to call it a night and looked forward to another round of drinking with those two hooligans, We watched as they piled into Chicago Mikes pimped out chopper and headed out to who the fuck knows where. Cheers to a great night of drinking with some cool cats..............until next time remember, when you see these two misfits..........get the fuck out of the way..........

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson

As a young boy growing up in the greater Cincinnati area, Bim feasted on a steady diet of Schoenling's Little Kings beer, endless bowls of Skyline chili, and perhaps more astonishingly, he developed a lifelong addiction to breastfeeding from the bosoms of women who would one day be known affectionately as "cougars". His compulsion grew as he went through the late seventies as a teenager with tasting sessions on a variety of older women, many of whom gladly let Bim suckle on them in exchange for doing chores around the house. This somewhat devious habit (to most normal folks) culminated on his 18th birthday when the buxom mother of one of his high school gymnastics teammates seduced him on a star filled April evening with a mixture of vodka tonics and pot brownies. As Bim grew into manhood, he took that addiction one step further and became know throughout all of southern Ohio as the "Gilf Hunter", the pimp master of aged poonanny. Taking his "schtick" on the road, he spent his early 20's traveling across America as a young intern performing free pap smears inside his mobile examining room, the "Meat Locker". His velvety touch along with the peyote enriched incense that permeated the back seat had Bim laying wood to every granny and granny-to-be that showed up, racking up racks like a modern day Hugh Hefner. The BC4M might not ever have happened and Bim would have been someone we only read about in the pages of Penthouse Forum had it not been for the young undercover deputy sheriff that busted Bim attempting to use his "tripod" on her during the exam. She promptly turned the tables and putting her EMT training to use, gave Bim a prostate exam with her nightstick causing him to fall head over heels in love. They were married 6 hours later and have been together ever since. This past week, Bim got the sad news that the woman responsible for putting him on his debaucherous journey had passed away while in bed performing a maneuver known as the "piledriver". Her advanced osteoperosis led to her back being folded up and smashed like a used car at the junkyard yet she died with a smile on her face according to the lothario that had persuaded her into trying that advanced technique. For our weekly BC4M meeting, we gathered at Fred's to honor Bim's "educator" in the ways of love, "Pussy Galore" who it seemed, had'nt aged very well. We decided the theme of the night was for each of the attendees to pick a beer from a state where Bim had committed some sort of carnal infraction. First up was a bottle from North Carolina, an Olde Hickory Death By Hops (7.0%). This is double IPA that Fred and Wilder picked up recently on Sexual Chocolate Day, and it was a fantastic start to the night. Bim told us of how he narrowly evaded arrest after performing a "carolina brown baggin" on one of his patients without her consent. As we howled with laughter, we tasted a beer with the unique aroma of a Pliny the Elder, but just a tad below in flavor. Excellent for sure, this is a superb beer that rated a really good. Next was a beer from Michigan, as Bim retold the story of how he performed a "michigan geyser" on a comely newlywed that was having marital troubles and needed the "magic touch" that Bim was notorious for. The beer was a Founder's Imperial Stout (10.5%). Sweet at first sip, this dark elixir was smooth up until the finish where it ended up tasting like a glass of liquid bakers chocolate. The taste was still quite good and although we couldn't pound a case of these, it too rated a really good. Next up was a Brooklyn Brewery Local #2 (9.0%), to honor the homeless streetwalker with the tuna taco that tried to spend the night only to wake up with Bim giving her a "brooklyn brown eye". This Belgian style strong ale is easy drinking and has a nice caramel flavor that makes it stand out against the mediocre lineup that Brooklyn normally brews. It is 100% bottle fermented and the nine percent alcohol is hidden well. This one rated a solid good, so we continued with a Mission Brewery Shipwrecked Double IPA (9.25%). After his debacle in Michigan, Bim had sought refuge on an avocado farm east of San Diego where when he wasn't harvesting crops and binging on "medicinal" mushrooms, he was performing on stage as a member of a coed wrestling troupe known as "Belligerent Midgets" across the border in Tijuana. During one of his shows, he accidently let loose a "california cropduster" on his tiny costar, Wanda Rideyou which caused the minisculed brunette to punch Bim's testes so hard that one of them cracked like a cheap vase. After receiving treatment for "fractured nad" syndrome, our beloved hero made his way north to the serene shores of Malibu. His ball sack healed after several rounds of plastic surgery, our wayward hero was back in business looking for fresh cougar pelts for his dashboard. As always, luck was on his side one evening after a night of beach side karaoke, as he met a busty 55 year old divorcee that couldn't take her eyes and hands off him as he serenaded the crowd with his smooth rendition of the hit "Please Dont Go". After a night spent in her palatial retreat overlooking the Pacific Ocean where she performed acts on Bim that are illegal in 33 states, he narrowly made his escape after launching a "malibu tee-time" on the unsuspecting queen of kink. We opened a Firestone Walker Double Jack (9.5%) to celebrate his feat, and although we had rated this before, we wanted to give it another chance since it was so good. This double IPA is about as close to Pliny as we have ever had, as it has amazing citrus and piney aromas and a crisp finish that puts you in hop heaven. Everyone agreed, this is indeed an RFG, and we look forward to drinking this again and again. Next was a 2011 Foothills Brewing Sexual Chocolate (9.75%). This one was opened after hearing the story of Bim and a 39 yr old Waffle House waitress that he gave the "charlotte pipeline" to in the ladies room after eating a platter full of chili covered hash browns. This beer needs some time to age as it still a little rough around the edges for an Imperial Stout. Its quite good with rich chocolate flavors mixed with a sweet alcohol buzz. It rated a really good, and D-Rail added that "this might be an RFG in a year or so". The final beer of the night was a De Struise Browers Black Albert (13.0%), another imperial stout. After graduating from college, Bim had decided to trek through Europe via train and had barely made it past the French border when he had met up with three Norwegian sisters that giggled at his American accent and swooned over his pornstache and chest hair. Several hours and several bottles of cheap Chinese Vodka later, Bim had convinced the sisters to perform a "danish windmill" on him, much to the chagrin to the rest of the dining car patrons. He hopped off at the next stop before he could be charged with crimes against humanity and made his way back stateside before Interpol could catch up with him. After we had laughed ourselves hoarse we tasted a truly remarkable beer that somehow tastes like a stout but with a Belgian twist. Not as thick and viscous as an American imperial stout, it was full of robust flavors without feeling like you were drinking a glass of tootsie rolls. "This shit is fucking great" said Wilder, as D-Rail declared, "this should be an RFG". We looked around and each member agreed, we had another entrant onto the RFG list. This is a superb beer and a must taste for all beer geeks. We had come to the end of Bim's tales, two new RFG's added to the list, our minds full of visions of devious behavior from around the globe. We toasted one last time to Bim's dear old friend.....a classy lady that brought style and substance to those around her....Mrs Robinson....