Road trip to Gordon Biersch

So Friday evening was upon us and the girls were deep into Virginia wine country on their weekend trip and were probably feeling a little giddy after we learned that they had stormed the steps of two wineries and devoured both places of their entire fall wine stock like a flock of blue jays emptying a winter bird feeder. Happy that they were having a much deserved "chick trip", one of our associates, the deacon of boombastic sonic fury himself, Big Audio Dynamite had arranged for the BC4M to take our own road trip and have a few beers at the local Gordon Biersch. Prince Mike, Bim, D-Rail, Fred, Snake and 10pm all arrived promptly at 6:26 to meet up with our host. Big Audio had recently gotten back home after being the head of security for the middle eastern leg of the "Bend over and touch your toes if you love a good Polka" tour by the notorious death metal/polka outfit Accidental Goat Sodomy. "I bet you were shit house drunk every night of the tour" asked Bim, but Big Audio replied "Fuck no, those guys were such boy scouts. I mean, what the fuck does a guy got to do to see the occasional donkey show?" The place was packed, but since Big Audio and the G.M. of the restaurant Sean, were buds, we got a couple of choice tables near the bar. (Maybe its cause the folks at Gordon Biersch knew that The fucking BC4M were in the house, but then again, maybe it was cause Big Audio threatened to crack a few skulls if we didn't get some prime real estate near the beer. Gordon Biersch was one of the first "macro-craft" brewers that we had discovered early on. They make a bunch of fine beers, and they also contract brew for places like Trader Joes. We were hoping to get to sample some beers we hadn't ever had while we were there. The seasonal beer on tap was the always tasty FestBier (5.3%). This is their ode to their Deutschlandic roots and is a classic, easy drinking Oktoberfest lager. "Nothing says good time more than beer and boobs" said Fred, to which Snake raised his stein to concur. Full of flavor, it is a solid good. While we ordered up some grub, we got a few taster flights to see which beers we should get our big boy mugs filled with. We tried the Schwarzbier (4.3%) which was dark yet surprisingly thin. 10pm told our hostess, "Damn, as dark as this is, it still ain't worth a shit." The taste was decent but lacked any ambition to get ahead in life so we gave it a so-so. Next was the Golden Export (4.7%) that "Tastes like a a bowl of fucking soggy Cheerios" said Bim, as Fred added, "Canada Dry Ginger Ale has more ass and body than this crap". "You know how I love me some Canadian ass" said Snake as we watched a seemingly endless bevy of Friday night boobage parade by our table. This beer is on par with say Corona or maybe Miller Lite in that its weak, watery and full of grainy flavors that are typical of the mass marketed swill that most Americans call "beer". The last of the beers we got to try was the Marzen (5.7%). This according to Sean, is their most popular beer. While we were waiting for our dinner to arrive, he gave us a tour of the surprisingly cramped brewing facility that we tagged.

It's amazing how much brewing equipment can get stuffed in a space the size of a double wide trailer. Big Audio said the boys at GB were looking to expand, but according to head brewer Hosiah Morehead, the landlord at their Town Center location was squeezing every tenant like a loan shark causing him to constantly yell "the damn rent is too high". Bim was hoping to learn the secrets to creating a good beer from Hosiah, but we learned he was out of town on "business". "Lets just say he likes to make what the frogs in France call "films" said Big Audio, as we learned that one of the Commonwealth of Virginia's finest film and stage actresses (and the first nekkid chick a horny 15 year old Snake had ever laid eyes on via his Uncle's well used Betamax player), Seka was at that very moment learning why Hosiah has such an unusual last name. Our food arrived by then, and as we began to devour the 3lb Kobe beer burgers that Big Audio had recommended, we saw a cavalcade of pseudo-celebrity lookalikes including Diana Taurasi , Ohio State's Jim Tressel and a obviously drunk or light in the loafers type lad that mistakenly thought it was Halloween as he pretended to be football legend Bear Bryant. "Some dumb ass motherfucker just lost a bet" said Prince Mike as he chuckled toward the plaid wearing doucher sashaying to his group in the corner. As we laughed at the goofy bastard, we ordered another round of beers before we decided to call it a night. As we got up to leave, we thanked Big Audio for a great time and watched as he left a trail of burnt rubber and one nearly emasculated circus midget as he sped off to host a gig on his slick new Buell IDO69 Assassin bike. Another great time was had by all and we looked forward to our next visit as we anxiously await the tapping of Gordon Biersch's next seasonal beer, Winter Bock.

Bon Voyage Bitches

This coming Friday, the better halves of our quiet, mild mannered neighborhood, or more commonly known to the BC4M as the Wine Club for Women are heading up for a debauchery filled "girls only" wine trip to the Shenandoah Mountains. The "B's of CHC" as their snazzy new t-shirts proclaim, are heading on their "Bitches and Whine Tour 2010" and have an itinerary that is almost completely hush hush. All that the boys know is that the ladies are going to be staying at a quaint country farmhouse called "A Roll in the Hay", and that several area wineries will be visited by our saucy group of bacchanalians. Who knows what other spicy events the ringleader of the group (Claire Griswald) has planned for our group of wine loving minxes but surely they are in for an amazing time (remember ladies, bras and panties are not optional). Since we would be left flying "solo" for the weekend, Mrs. Wilder (Dr. Cricket Sassafrass) and Mrs Fred (Princess Flirtaliscious) decided we needed to have a celebratory flamingo before the big trip. Mrs. 10pm (Tabletop Tessa), Mrs. Bim (Florence Naughtygale), Mrs. Chip Fontaine (Pera Honeydews) and Mrs. Crazy Ken (Judy Boom) all gathered at Wilder's for a night of food, fun, and of course, drunken booty shaking. Johnny told us he had brought back a few bombers from our favorite Delaware brewery, Dogfish Head. We had tried both of them at the GABF, but we wanted to let the other members have a taste so we first opened a Dogfish Head Chateau Jiahu (8.0%). This is a beer based on a 9000 year old clay pot found in China ("What the fuck is this, a fermented bottle of duck sauce?" asked Fred, the only curmudgeon on the planet that is under 70 years old, and who surely wouldn't be welcome at a United Nations conference). The label had a picture of what could have been a mirror image of Tessa's half step-aunt Jade who was an avant-garde nude fashion model in the late 70's that was famous for her Kanji tramp stamp that our Japanese correspondent Bim correctly translated to mean "please deposit here". We didn't think too highly of it in Denver but it tasted a little better from the bottle. This is a very unique beer that reminded Ken of a bottle of Welch's grape juice. 10pm took one sip and his facial expression said "Thanks for fucking poisoning me, this is fucking awful". Bim and Johnny said it was a so-so to good, while Crazy Ken secretly poured his into the spinach dip on the counter hoping nobody would notice. Maybe it wasn't that good after all, so we gave it a so-so and moved on to a Ska Brewing Local Series Clancy's Black Beer #16 (5.4%). This is a schwarzbier or literally "black beer" that is a homebrew entry from an oil worker in New Mexico named Clancy Calhoun. This one had a noticeable roasted caramel flavor that was quite interesting. It was thin in body but still packed alot of flavor so it got a good. Next was a Hitachino Nest XH (7.0%), a beer that is aged in sake casks. Sake of course is the traditional Japanese alcohol that most of us ignorant Westerners refer to as rice wine. Its actually more akin to beer, but with generally much higher alcohol content. This stubby bottle of strength had a powerful kick but went down as smooth as a 19 year old coed's g-stringed backside. You could really taste the sake barrel influence as the bite from the alcohol was tempered by the crisp rice aftertaste. Even though this was one listed in a recent article that Snake had found suggesting it was one of the 25 best beers in the world, we thought it only deserved a solid good, although we would surely drink it again. As the boys looked for more beers to sample, we noticed that the vino was flowing like Niagara Falls and the girls were getting a tad bit restless and flirty. The thing that usually happens about this time is that the dancing shoes come on and the girls start to boogie down. The entertainment coordinator of the group, The Deacon of Funk himself, J. Wilder busted out his boom box and Ipod and proceeded to flood the house with some rump rustling tunes. Nothing says a great time more than watching our smoking hot wives bouncing their juggies while they danced to wholesome songs like "I'm in Miami Bitch" and "Get Back". As we watched each and every one of the girls gyrating their junk trunks to the dope beats blaring from the speakers, we moved on to a Deschutes Brewing Hop in the Dark C.D.A. (6.5%). A "Cascadian Dark Ale", this is a new style of beer that the flannel wearing set up in the Pacific northwest call their black IPA's. This was slightly bitter like a good IPA, but was full of malty flavorful. Tarry in appearance, and not overly thick in body, Fred, Bim and Johnny loved it while Ken and 10pm thought it was so-so at best. We decided to make it a good since we had such disparate opinions on the beer. As the clock struck midnight, the girls were still shaking their money makers and we had one final beer to try, Dogfish Head Bitches Brew (9.0%), a mixture of imperial stout with honey and gesho root. The african themed label and the gesho root reminded Bim of his days as an undergrad working for UNICEF in Ethiopia back in the early 70's. "Ahhhh, the glorious gesho root, I remember planting and smoking it with the Ugiboogi tribe that I communed with in the Lake Tana region." "If it hadn't been for that bad case of dysentery that caused me to have to come home, I might still be living among those sex craved women that called me Donku Etongyajor or what the English speaking world would know as Gonad the Barbarian". As we cackled with laughter at the hilarious story of Bim's sordid tale of jungle fever, we all agreed that the beer was rated a really good. The honey gave the imperial stout a sweet undertone that balanced perfectly with the roasted malts. The beers were now done, the ladies had danced themselves silly and bedtime beckoned. We gave all the ladies hugs and wished them well on their trip as we looked forward to having them back with us safe and sound and ready to party again......

Leftover Shitty Beer Night

It had been about a week since we made our now infamous jaunt to the Bier Garden in Old P-Town and The Taphouse in downtown Norfolk and the boys were anxious to drink some more beers. The problem was that our 4 neighborhood beer fridges were getting overstocked with what was frankly, shitty beers. Normally a bomber is the perfect size for sharing with the group, but occasionally we have to buy beers in 12 oz bottles, so we usually pick up 3 or 4 to ensure we all get a decent sample pour. The only issue with this is when the beer tastes like stale skunk saliva, you now have 2 or 3 more of them taking up valuable real estate in the beer cooler. What to do with all this asstastic flavor we asked, until Johnny Wilder sent out a text to the group that proclaimed this night as "Leftover shitty beer night", whereby we would dig deep into our beer drinking souls to come up with the courage to abuse our palates once again with the wretches of the craft brewing world. Seriously, some of these brewers should be ashamed that they actually sold what amounts to turpentine or leftovers from the deep fryer at Bojangles as beer. Not wanting to actually throw the beers away, or even potentially ruin the virgin taste buds of a future BC4M member by allowing them to poison themselves with this swill, we figured we could man up and stomach this batch of Drano. D-Rail (always a fan of cheap, shitty beers and low cost ladies of the night), Snake, Crazy Ken, Tank, Bim, 10pm Branigan and Fred gathered around Wilder's breakfast nook for a night that we hope will never be repeated. We pulled out some of the classics from the "I hope I never have to taste this shit again" collection for our night of gastrointestinal destruction such as Yuengling Porter (water with black mung coloring), Bell's Oarsmen (the scurvy prevention treatment for sailors that smelled like cheerios topped with cat urine), Michelob Bavarian Wheat (which Ken said, "Tastes warm and crappy even when its ice cold"). Since our moods began to follow the shitty beers we were choking down, we decided to perhaps crack open a "couple" of new beers to lighten the atmosphere. As we listened to some classic rock on the new 5000 watt home theater system jamming in the family room, Wilder pulled out a growler of Gordon Biersch Fest (5.6%). This one had the typical GB flavor that instantly gives it away, but it was still both malty and flavorful so it got a good. We moved on to a Paulaner Octoberfest (5.8%) that Snake and Bim had tried at the Bier Garden. Another solid good, this one was lighter and more full bodied than the Gordon Biersch, but equally as flavorful so it too got a good. Just as we were about to open our next beer, a classic Gordon Lightfoot song came on. As our ears were delighted by Bim's hauntingly dead on rendition of the classic sea faring tale "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald", we cracked open that classic Belgian-Brazilian-American lager, Budweiser (5.0%). "What the Fuck?" asked Fred, don't we already know this beer is as worthless as a jar of ball sweat? Bim, the parliamentarian of the group said in his steady calming voice, "You know we have to rate EVERY beer in the world, so suck it up Nancy". While we watched this can of swill get passed around, Tank remarked how he must have drank a case of Bud a day when he was the foreman for an all female roofing crew back home in Hoboken during the summer of 83. Tank said, "I had to get plowed, those were some big bitches", "and they were ALWAYS horny". Wilder added that he got his first taste of Bud when he was 7 after he had won a game of strip poker with his "exotic dancer" babysitter Bambi. "Damn I loved those cans" he reflected (we guessed he meant the cans of beer, but Wilder has always been a leg and ass man so maybe thats when he got hooked on Boo-Tays), as we gave a unanimous thumbs down to the beer itself. "This is fucking race car beer" said Bim, as we all agreed it rated a sucks. Next was a bottle of Lindeman's Framboise Lambic (2.5%). "What the hell is this, a bottle of cherry jello?" asked Snake. It smelled exceedingly sweet, and tasted like a desert wine, but damn was it smooth. "Last time I tasted something that smooth, I was face down and chin up between a candy striper named Trixie's thighs" said the noted cunning linguist D-Rail. Despite the fact that it packed the alcoholic wallop of a bowl of Fruity Pebbles we all enjoyed it and gave it a good. While we decided which beer was next on the list, Tank saw a lonely bottle of San Miguel sitting on the table. "Oh man, I remember my first trip to the P.I.", he recalled, "nothing but a case of San Miguel, a couple of coconuts and a Harley riding masseuse named Mathilda." "Boys, you ain't had your pipes cleaned until you have spent a few nights with that old dame". As we howled with laughter at the stories of our intrepid young sailor learning the ways of the female, we opened up a Ayinger Brau-Weisse (5.1%). As you know, we generally despise hefeweizens and their ilk due to their annoyingly clovey flavorings. This one was no different and it was like drinking a banana hammock drenched in spices. "Damn this shit sucks" said Snake as we all agreed that it was putrid at best. Wellpark Brewery's Tennent's Lager (4.0%) was an import from the wee laddies over in Glasgow. Another weakling had arrived from the Empire as this one was akin to drinking a Coors Light, namely nothing to it, sorta like cotton candy. This one was a so-so at best, but before we moved on to our final beer, Brassiere des Rocs (9.5%), 10pm said he had to get going. "What the fuck?" said Wilder, "its only 9:27, surely you don't have to get into your pj's already". "Guess his new nickname will be 9:27", said Fred, as we bid our princess goodnight. The des Rocs was a Grand Cru style (or big bold badass version of a regular beer) that was categorized as a Belgian Special Brown Ale. This one was molasses like in both texture and flavor and left us with a hearty case of tooth decay due to the abundance of sugars. Despite the impending trip to the dentist we would all be having to make, it was still a decent beer and it got a good. Not wanting to drink any more bottles of ineptitude, we called it a night, thankful we had cleaned out most of the dregs from our shelves, and thankful that we had at least gotten to try a few more new brews. Until next time, remember the immortal words from one of our blogging pals, "Life's too short to drink shitty beers".