beer

FAXE STRONG BEER—Playdate antidote?

It seems some kid in Miss V’s kindergarten class is giving her trouble. Or is she?

MONDAY: “Mummy, H isn’t nice to me. She hitted me.”

TUESDAY: “Mummy, H made a mean look at me.”

WEDNESDAY: “Mummy, H didn’t share the markers.”

THURSDAY: “Mummy, H pushed me into the water fountain.”

FRIDAY: “Mummy, can I have a playdate with H?”

♦ ♦ ♦ WTF? ♦ ♦ ♦

Ahhh, yes, of course we should have that little miscreant over. (Apparently familiarity breeds contempt and then mutual admiration; the kids patched up their differences today.) Mum should stay sober for the playdate duration, of course, so she can prevent V from getting attacked. As for yours truly, I’ll hide. And when the playdate ends and we’ve ejected the psychopathic Miss H from our abode into the arms of her (evil?) parents, we’ll crack a can of FAXE STRONG BEER, a Danish brew my dad found on his weekend liquorstore wanderings.

Pale yellow with white foam, this mildly fizzy liquid emits a hefeweizen-like redolence—grainy and perfumed with fruit. On the tongue it’s slightly herbal, grassy, and mildly alcoholic, which at 8.9% it damn well should be. The carbonation is moderate, the mouthfeel a bit thin considering the horsepower. Interestingly, the fruit that wafts from FAXE dissolves on the front palate, not bothering to stay for the lingering boozy burn. This is how I like fruit if it insists on being in a beer. If a brew is going to feature weird flavors, at least they should behave themselves. Much like five-year-old punks who mess with my little friend V at school and then somehow ingratiate themselves into being invited over for a playdate.

But what the hell, they’re only 5, and V’s pretty good at dishing out abuse in her own right. We’ll see what happens when V and H are hanging out in V’s room. It’ll either work, or it’ll be like cats in a sack.

I dare you to put another cat in this bag.

Note to Dad: Buy more beer.

SCANDAL ALE—Damn fine for a drinking game (and it includes one)

Last night I dreamt that my fellow blogger Transman came over to hang out. We were sitting on the crappy LBHQ futon watching reality TV. Between channel flips I’d interrogate Transman about his real name and he’d evade my questions by dissing pseudocelebrities (“Look at those Kardashians, dude, they could crush us”).

We were drinking SCANDAL ALE, a new arrival on the BC beer scene concocted by owner Hugh Hefeweisen and brewmaster Suddly Brew Right, identities as impenetrable as that of my hypnagogic houseguest. As we sipped from our stubby bottles we recalled how all bottles used to be stubbies, which made us feel old, at which point I notified Transman that it was not I, at 7, who was old, but my fortysomething parents. Which made things weird for Transman, who hadn’t realized he was four or five times the age of the bear beside him.

Fact is, I wasn’t around for the heyday of stubbies. SCANDAL ALE is my first experience with these squat brown bottles (which we’ve enjoyed not just somnifically but in real life). The brewery first came to my attention through Twitter, which I always forget to visit. Twitter suggested I follow Scandal Brewing, which I think I did. But at the time they had no actual beer yet; it was still five months away. So I forgot about it until my dad came home with this crazy retro comic-book style cardboard box, the inside of which is printed with colorful game cards. My fellow inebriates, if for no other reason than this box, you should grab a case of SCANDAL ALE. This is a product with style, and its pseudonymous crew has thought hard about branding a memorable identity.

But how does it taste?

Well, in my dream Transman helped himself to another. Deep copper with a rich light foam, SCANDAL ALE gives off a malty aroma with a touch of toffee and grassiness. Scandal Brewing boasts all-organic ingredients and conducts daily tests on the spring water that goes into its ale and lager. Caramel malt and Bavarian hops marry up into a medium-bodied 5% ale with an IBU of 17, so it’s mellow but not too mellow. Generous carbonation makes SCANDAL ALE punchy on the palate—solid and rewarding without departing into groundbreaking new flavors. If anything, it splits the difference nicely between mass-market brew and some of the less accessible tastes found in the craft beer section, but soars above macro-swill with its organic recipe and malty goodness.

scandal aleWhere it does break ground is in its packaging. Break the box down and you’ll find the inside printed with cards for what Hugh Hefeweizen says is not a drinking game (it makes a damn good drinking game). Cards like “Embezzlement,” “Golden Parachute,” and “Busted!” direct you to swap, steal, cede, and hustle your way to 10 points. It’s perfect for kids (seriously, whatever gets them off Pokemon is a good thing).

The ale is so good that I told my dad we needed the lager too. We’ll see what comes back when he returns. He’s also buying a toilet plunger so I have to wait an inordinately long time. Perhaps I should doze and have some more beer dreams.

DEAD FROG NUT BROWN ALE—Froggy style has a lot of variations

My Fellow Inebriates,

Two nights ago my dad returned from a trade show with two bottles of DEAD FROG NUT BROWN ALE.

I’d been wondering where the hell my dad was. Often I can find him spread out (his work gear, not his junk) all over the dining room table, stressing my mum out with his tentaculate electronics, and offending us all by playing Pink Floyd’s The Wall out of sequence. But for the last week he’s been scarce.

I suspect he’s been wined and dined by suppliers this week, plied with swag far beyond the two beers he brought home. But we’ll never know. My dad has this effective trick of entering the house with his headset on, carrying on a conversation until the novelty of his arrival has worn off and everyone’s forgotten to ask him about his day. Repeatedly throughout the week, and well past the bedtime of the kids—who would ignore his phone conversation anyway and attack him—he’s entered mid-conversation, muttering away about terminations and racks and permits, and—seeing he won’t respond anyway—I’ve gone back to looking at the People of Walmart or trying on moustaches or whatever other productive thing I was doing before he came in. Effectively I’ve forgotten to interrogate him about this trade show and whatall’s been going on there. For instance:

Why only two beers?

Why NUT BROWN ALE particularly? Does he know that DEAD FROG markets an array of unusual brews (mandarin orange, pepper lime, toasted coconut)?—not quite targeted at craft beer geeks (too light, too lager-y) yet not targeted at the Molson Canadian crowd either. In fact, DEAD FROG has been a bit hit-or-miss when it comes to aligning with the increasingly divergent craft and mass beer markets, particularly with its 650-mL specialty brews, and would have found itself dead indeed had it not sought $500,000 in investment money earlier this year.

 

If my dad hadn’t been yammering into the headset I would have asked about DEAD FROG’s beer portfolio—did Dad have the option to scoop some other products for yours truly or was he just not interested? Did he have his fill of them at the show? OMG, would my dad do that without me?

Fact is, Dad might have picked the best of the bunch. DEAD FROG NUT BROWN ALE is a nice beer. Dark and almost cola color with a moderate-to-weighty mouthfeel, it carries a hoppy punch yet doesn’t distance itself from the warming, mellowing maltiness of a good ale. Crisp carbonation focuses the hop/malt intersection nicely. You can detect chocolate in the background plus the eponymous nuttiness, making for a solid, interesting brew that doesn’t cloy and isn’t so intriguing that it becomes annoying or precious. Paws up for sure. Or flippers or whatever.

With its recent cash infusion and wealth of marketing ideas, DEAD FROG, just one of three new brewers making a splash in British Columbia, evidently has some (frog) legs. If we all boost our drinking, we should be able to keep the frog alive.