Hail and Farewell

About a year and a half ago, Bim, Fred and Nestle went to check out the newest brewery in our area, Beach Brewing. While in their tasting room trying some of of their frankly forgettable early efforts, we met a menacing looking fella that appeared to have just gotten back from a 3 month tour as a roadie for either Pantera or Lady Gaga, or perhaps both. We talked beers and found him to be knowledgeable and easy to talk to despite the fact he looked primed to donkey punch every one of the Jonas Brothers at a moments notice. We discussed our favorite beers, and were shocked when he mentioned he could easily name 10 IPA's better than our highly regarded Pliny the Elder. Hailing from the "meat packing" capitol of the world, Chicago, after weeks of deliberation, we christened him "Chicago Mike" and invited him to join us in our pursuit of all things craft beer. He had a major hand in creating Beach Brewing's best beer, their double IPA hop monster "Hoptopus". It was so good, Fred sent it around the country in trades and even our pals on the west coast who have had their palates wrecked by the plethora of great IPA's available out there all agreed it was phenomenal. Unfortunately, after a drunken afternoon playing "water under the bridge" style "twister" at the Brewery went a tad too far, Chicago quit and set out on his own. His first gig was driving an ice cream truck dressed as "Sprinkles the Clown", and then upon being released on bond after an all night bat mitzvah went bad (something about whipped cream and cherries), he set up a mobile car detailing team called "Wash and Blow" that promised a thorough scrub and tug with every purchase. When he wasn't busy spreading the message on the glories of a polished trailer hitch to the hordes of sailors that are stationed in our area, he was busy interviewing at various breweries around the country pitching his newest beer recipe, a 17% behemoth barleywine ale called "Moose Knuckler" that had an amazing floral nose because of all the hops he added to it. Months went by and right before Christmas, he received a call from one of America's best breweries, Fat Head's of Cleveland Ohio. They are the creators of the RFG rated double ipa, "Head Hunter", and were looking for a new "associate brewer" (i.e. glory hole cleaner), and offered him a spot on their staff after watching him make quick work of the mess in their backdoor "champagne room". He quickly accepted and made plans to be at work promptly in early January. Since most of us are veterans, we decided the only way to properly send him off was to throw a hail and farewell. Every member of BC4M arrived at Fred's for a night that had debauchery written all over it. Fred pulled out some big guns from the cellar, including previously RFG rated Heady Topper, Pliny the Elder, Westvleteren 12, Avery Rumpkin, New Glarus Raspberry Tart, and Goose Island Coffee Bourbon County Stout. Mixed in with all that greatness were some beers that frankly weren't too hot. Most rated a so/so or good, like Cigar City Florida Cracker (5.0%), Blue Point Toxic Sludge (7.0%), Great Divide 18th Anniversary (10.0%) and Dominion Double D (10.0%). However, a pair of beers were downright drainpours. Aviator Brewing Black Mamba (6.3%) was an oatmeal stout that had about as much body as a 18 yr old anorexic that had just binged and purged. "This sure as fuck aint too damn boo-coo" said Mike as Bim added, "I had a patient in today with a discharge way thicker than this crap". It was easily a sucks, while another beer got perhaps the worst rating of any we have ever tried. Surprisingly, it was 3 Floyd's Bully Guppy and it was a fucking disaster. Upon opening, it smelled like wet cat urine mixed with paint thinner. Could it taste even worse than it smelled? You bet your sweet ass it did, as Fred said, "I'll be surprised if I don't go blind drinking this poison", Wilder mentioned, "Did they fucking age this in Turpentine barrels?". "Tastes like a bad bottle of Windex" said Snake, while Bim woke up long enough to bellow, "Smells like the perfume my Thai pedicurist uses at the salon". This is without a doubt the worst beer any of us had tasted and wondered how in the fuck it made it past quality control. Two beers that did however, taste amazing, were Lawson's Finest Kiwi Double IPA (8.1%) which combined a generous grapefruit nose with a smooth lemony body that went down as easy as a two bit street urchin jonesing for a meth hit. The second was Hill Farmstead Juicy (7.4%), a slightly sour saison that balanced hops and brett with a crisp finish. Both rated really good, and just when we thought the night was ending, local pizza baron RaiderFost and his liege Reginald showed up with a bottle of Surly Darkness '12 (10.3%). Pouring as dark as the meat flaps of a Ugandan midwife, it had a silky body and was ultra smooth. It almost had a "nitro" mouthfeel, and the taste was phenomenal, full of milk chocolate and dark fruits. Easily a really good, it just missed the coveted RFG mark. We killed a few more mediocre beers afterward and the hours flew by. It was late and Mike had to get home to pack for his trip. Before he left, we presented him with a few special beers and perhaps the most fitting gift we could think of, a framed picture of his former mentor at Beach Brewing, President Steve Stifler who wrote a simple but eloquent message, "Water under the bridge" which we figured was a sweet homage to their ill fated "twister" day.

 

To our testosterone fueled brother, fair winds and following seas and long may your big jib draw

Atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.