Reviews

FILTHY DIRTY IPA—Because my dad and I have taste

In the downstairs bathtub this morning: two of the meatiest, most massive silverfish ever seen, squaring off with a hefty spider. Suspended above them by an invisible thread: the exoskeleton of one of their mates, presumably tortured to death by the spider.

Damnit, Stephen Harper, keep your pets on a leash.

Damn it, Stephen Harper, keep your pets on a leash.

Of course I wanted to see who would win. But my mother didn’t care. “F**k you guys,” she said, and shot all three down the drain with the showerhead.

That’s the level of enlightenment at LBHQ.

I thought my mother could use a beer but she has an inexplicable resistance to drinking at 7:00 am, and her unwillingness to let me watch the silverfish-spider death match is pretty much indicative of her unwillingness to take any of my good suggestions.

So I had to wait until 5:00 pm to try this new beer in the fridge: Parallel 49 FILTHY DIRTY IPA. And even then I had to fight my dad for a share of it, which felt sort of like being a silverfish versus a big-ass hairy spider. But fight my dad I did, my fellow inebriates, and here’s what FILTHY DIRTY was like:

FILTHY-DIRTY-500x500Ahhh! Let me start with 7.2% alcohol. It had me there, friends, but it was only getting started. FILTHY DIRTY boasts an IBU of 55, the combined effort of Chinook, Centennial, Citra, Simco, and Ahtanium hops—not fighting it out but harmonizing into a piney, grapefruity, bittersweet hopfest with a creamy mouthfeel and a long linger. My dad and I marveled at the various hop contributions; as we savored the IPA we could taste tropical notes and subtle bready malt backnotes. It was totally, totally yummy.

My mum said it tasted like elastic bands and earwax, which is what she says about all IPAs. We called her a philistine and suggested she get into the kitchen and make the family some pizza.

And that, my fellow inebriates, was a lot like picking a fight with a big spider. Don’t even ask who won.

TANQUERAY RANGPUR GIN—My dad goes on a rampage!

My dad, who is not allowed to buy things any more, bought three things today:

(1)

Starfrit Hamburger Stacker

Starfrit hamburger maker

“I have never experienced a desire for such a thing,” said my mother, who apparently hand-fondles all the patties at LBHQ into perfect circles without assistance.

I concurred, albeit for other reasons. The price, for instance: $7. We could have had a really bad-ass night with some super-crappy wine for the price of the Starfrit Hamburger Stacker.

“What are hamburgers made of anyway?” I asked nervously.

“Oh, all kinds of things,” said my parents. “You name it.”

…

(2)

Hands-Free Magic Mesh Screen Door Cover

Hands-free Magic Mesh Screen Door Cover

Well, what was my mother supposed to say to this one? “But I LIKE bugs in the house”?

This contraption will be a quick fix to the problem of bugs being inexplicably lured toward the smell of the burgers my mother will squish in the Starfrit thingie.

What do I think? Well, naturally no one asked. Being less…organic than the other LBHQ inhabitants, I don’t attract too much insect attention. Price: $20. What could we have bought at our nearby booze shop for $20? Well, OMG, read my blog, people.

…

(3)

TANQUERAY RANGPUR GIN

TANQUERAY_GIN_RANGPUR_750ml

Ahhhh! My dad is awesome. Despite my allegiance to Julia Gale and her brand, BROKER’S, I’ve been dying to try this new Tanqueray offering. You see, Tanq is my second favorite, and I trust Tanqueray not to do crazy things with gin. They will not come out with, say, a marshmallow-flavored gin anytime soon. And even though I would pester my parents to buy marshmallow gin, I’m…glad that Tanq has the taste not to distill it.

So, OMG, my fellow inebriates, what the hell does “Rangpur” mean? It turns out the Ranpur is kind of like a lime. It’s a mutant lime—a lime that isn’t a lime but rather a lemon-mandarin hybrid that, weirdly enough, smells like lime! It’s amazing that such a thing could exist. But I figure if the Ogopogo exists, then why not a Rangpur?

Rangpur

Okay, so when I realized my dad had gone off-leash and bought things—including TANQUERAY RANGPUR GIN—I became rabid for a taste. Even a sniff. So, when 5:00 pm descended upon us, they cracked the bottle and gave me just that—a sniff, followed by a minuscule sip. I mean, by the time I actually tasted it, it had evaporated—that’s how small this sip was.

How was it?

OMG, people, it was delectable. Whatever these Rangpur things are, they belong in gin. Unlike cucumber, citrus fruit has definite business with gin, and with Tanqueray, it works. But sadly I’ve had too small a taste to work with. It’s just not enough for a fair review. Perhaps another Gin Shoot-Out is in order.

To be continued…

SALTY SCOT—Wee heavy for a wee bear…or not

My Fellow Inebriates,

I totally forgot about Mother’s Day, which perhaps explains why my mother totally forgot to invite me when they opened a bottle of Parallel 49 SALTY SCOT SCOTCH ALE. If you can trust her tasting notes, it was a heavy, wintry ale with lashings of caramel—a malt bomb packing 7.5% ABV under a finger of fizzy, off-white foam. It developed, she said, as it warmed, coffee and brown sugar coming to the fore, adhering nicely to the palate in a boozy, friendly, wintry, not-quite-Mother’s-Day fashion.

salty_scot_bottles

Why did she not invite me? I’m thinking…maybe she doesn’t equate me with the other kids. You know, the little human girls…Yeah.

And another thing…every so often I notice that my mother isn’t a bear. I mean, she can get ugly like a bear, but ultimately her chromosome count’s off. Not a bear.

And if she couldn’t find it in her heart to invite me for some SALTY SCOT, well, would she do what this mama bear’s doing for her little cub on the highway?

I WOULD SETTLE FOR SOME SALTY SCOT!!!