NARAMATA NUT BROWN ALE (Cannery Brewing Company)

My Fellow Inebriates,

I find the news baffling, local news most of all. In my local rag: the story of a 42-year-old woman who, after driving four blocks from Boston Pizza to Montana’s Cookhouse without de-icing her windshield and as a result hit THREE pedestrians, dragging one woman behind her car. OMG.

I have several questions about this incident.

Rocket science

First of all: Was my mother the driver in question? She’s 42, she lives in Langley, she doesn’t possess an ice scraper OR a credit card, and she’s the type of woman who gets flustered by the garage door. Could it be…? I will have to ask her later.

Second, why was this woman driving from a pizza joint to a rib cookhouse? Again, this points to my mother.

Third, how did she make it four blocks with an opaque windshield? Does this deserve some credit for bravado? Or probably not, right? Just to be sure, I googled “driving blindfolded” and learned that in some circles it’s pretty cool. In fact, in the UK it is a team-building exercise. Wow! 

It’s really mild here so I don’t even know when my mum would have done this. Also, she’s still at home instead of in jail, but I read that they only fine you $109 for failing to de-ice your windshield, so maybe she just paid the fine.  None of the three (!) women she hit died; I think a couple of them just went to hospital.

But $109! Let’s break this down. The Cannery Collection I just acquired (two cans Anarchist Amber Ale, two cans Naramata Nut Brown Ale, and two cans IPA) cost $11.75 plus tax. For $109 we could have bought NINE of these six-packs. But apparently it’s more fun to plow your car into innocent pedestrians in some kind of middle-aged remote-viewing experiment.

But I have to be happy with what I’ve got. Last night I had the pleasure of sampling the NARAMATA NUT BROWN ALE. I was happy because the Cannery Brewing Company had advised starting with the AMBER ALE (check), then progressing to the NUT BROWN (check). The IPA awaits, but here are my impressions of the NUT BROWN ALE.

A darker pour than its amber counterpart, the NARAMATA NUT BROWN ALE exuded roasted nuts and chocolate, immediately demonstrating more complexity than the amber ale. Again I used a Reidel stemless glass, the better to catch its nutty characteristics. Immediately I sensed it was the more serious of Cannery’s offerings, which made my fur tingle.

The first sip was strong and hoppy, with a slight molasses accent, but not as much sweetness as I’ve encountered with other nut brown ales. As I drank, the ale continued to strike that same note—satisfying but somehow not developing  from top to bottom of the glass. The carbonation was moderate, crisp and punchy. This is a solid sipper—four-chord rather than symphonic, and just fine for uncomplicated enjoyment.

I would have enjoyed several more of these delicious beers, but unfortunately the money seems to have been earmarked for other things.

But at least not dumb-ass driving fines. My dad informed me that we have a Nissan, not a Kia like the one with the icy windshield. Yay, mum, I always believed in you.

Dear Santa…

Open letter to Santa Claus:

Dear Santa,

I know you are very busy making dreams come true for westernized children all over the world, stimulating the economy and driving stressed-out parents to drink. That’s cool. I just wanted you to know that there are very few things in my liquor cabinet right now. The cupboard is bare, Santa, and I’m hoping you will come through for me.

Here’s my current inventory, if you haven’t been following me:

  • Bacardi Big Apple Rum—8 oz or so
  • Malibu—maybe 3 oz
  • Cusano Rojo Mezcal—2 oz, worm definitely dead
  • El Senorio Mezcal—4 oz, never opened, worm still hanging out in there
  • Appleton Estate Rum—2 oz

So that’s not very good, right? How can I mix myself a Green Man or a Snowglobe or a Naughty Monkey without some core ingredients? I know you understand because you have a very red nose—the kind that’s bursting with blood vessels from years of imbibing excess. You feel me, right? You get my needs?

Okay, Santa, so here’s what I’d like:

  • Bacardi white rum
  • Bacardi 151
  • Blackberry brandy
  • Strawberry liqueur
  • Banana liqueur
  • Hypnotiq (or more Malibu if you can’t find Hypnotiq)

That will take care of Christmas morning. In the afternoon I’d like (please):

  • Pernod
  • Champagne
  • Melon liqueur
  • Bailey’s
  • Crown Royal
  • Amaretto liqueur

Okay. That covers most of Christmas day. Then there’ll be a big song-and-dance about making dinner and I’ll disappear for a while for a nap. I might skulk to the table if there’s wine (would you bring some chardonnay and pinot gris please?) but won’t really need anything until later, and then…

  • Peppermint schnapps
  • Goldschlager – yeah!!!

I realize this doesn’t really stock a liquor cabinet; a lot of these are specialty items that don’t figure in everyone’s everyday drinking. But I think it’s a travesty that my parents won’t keep these things on hand. Sure, they can be relied upon to buy a bottle of wine or a six-pack of beer once in a while, but they are hopeless about setting up a bar. So maybe you can come through for me, Santa, and bring a few bottles. That is, if you are not too laden down with toys for the kids here (and really, they don’t need anything much, and what you do bring them could be very small and space-efficient, if you get my drift).

Also, if you wanted to bring these things early, for Hanukkah rather than Christmas, that would be great. That way you’d have lots of room in your sleigh and you could get some driving practice before Christmas Eve, so it would be very win-win for us. I celebrate every holiday to excess and believe that liquor has a place at each and every one.

I always believed in you Santa—don’t forget, okay?

 

ANARCHIST AMBER ALE (Cannery Brewing Company)

My Fellow Inebriates,

I love sample packs; they’re like Christmas surprises, so I was thrilled to get my paws on the Cannery Collection last night. With three varieties (Anarchist Amber Ale, Naramata Nut Brown Ale, and India Pale Ale), two of each can, this seemed like the party in a box I’d been missing.

Naturally my parents played the killjoy card and said we would try just one. So we picked at random and soon we were savoring the ANARCHIST AMBER ALE. And get this—the Cannery Brewing Company’s own website advises having the Amber first. Yeah!

Lately we’ve been enjoying the Reidel stemless glasses for beer tasting. Sure, these glasses are meant for red wine, but I recommend trying them with beer; it’s a great way to detect all kinds of subtle aromas. And as happy as I always was in the past to shotgun from a can, I have to credit my parents for encouraging this refinement, as it makes beer all the more enjoyable.

We really don’t drink enough beer in our house. According to the Cannery website, 80% of the liquor purchased in Canada is beer. Canadians love beer, and apparently we like it best in cold places such as the Yukon. Which means we have to catch up. Here. In this house.

If I haven’t mentioned, Liquorstore Bear HQ is in southwest British Columbia, where this snowman could never survive more than a few days. He does a pretty good job keeping a beer cold, but I’d be keeping my eye on him so I could grab that beer as soon as the mercury went up.

ANARCHIST was a tad lighter in color than I expected: light copper and slightly cloudy. The smell was malty with a straightforward hoppiness, although if I concentrated I could also pick up caramel.

The first sips were deeply satisfying. ANARCHIST has a medium-bodied mouthfeel and enough carbonation to be refreshing. There’s a lingering taste of hops (three kinds, says the Cannery Brewing Company), which hit my tastebuds just right. About halfway through my glass, however, I noticed these hoppy tones seemed to be redoubling in my mouth, overshooting and somehow spilling over into a flavor monotone. Of course I didn’t mind this, because I was there to drink beer, and this was beer in all respects—no random olfactory layers, no otiose flavors, no fruitiness—it’s just that there was no sense of the beer evolving in the glass, which I suppose might be an unfair expectation I imposed on it by pouring it into a Reidel wine glass.

My mum liked it a lot at first and then said it was becoming just okay. Then she said she liked it but she wouldn’t go out of her way to buy it again.

This is the sort of limited contribution my mum makes to elevated activities such as beer tasting, and we can dismiss it.

My dad found the hops too predominant and wished the beer had “more going on,” but he didn’t mind it. He forgot to finish his glass, which could have been my windfall had my mum not pointed it out. He then drank the remainder with dinner and said it was much better when accompanied by food.

This is a whole other subject. You see, serious alcoholics like myself don’t bother eating, and so my dad’s enjoyment of ANARCHIST AMBER ALE with stew is pretty irrelevant for my purposes. But if you are still on the solid-foods wagon, then by all means try pairing this delicious beer with your supper.

I definitely RECOMMEND getting hold of one of these excellent sample cases from the Cannery Brewing Company and doing your own tasting.