PHILLIPS LONGBOAT CHOCOLATE PORTER—Chocolate art

Dan Lacey—Male Nude with Madchen

Today this Dan Lacey painting’s ebay price exceeded the funds in my PayPal account, at which point my dad said, “Why that one?”

I said I like the way the cat is staring directly out from the painting, the way cats do—sort of accusingly. I wouldn’t mind having a cat like that, except the whole household would be wheezing with allergies.

Despite my dad’s obvious discomfort about having a nude self-portrait of the artist with his cat on our wall, he’s made some progress toward appreciating Dan Lacey. Out of the blue one day he said something backhanded, like “He actually captures a good likeness,” or “I actually like some of Dan Lacey’s paintings.” He always qualifies with the word “actually,” as if to say the majority of Lacey art is not his thing.

But why?

Take this painting of Mitt Romney, the bidding on which has climbed to $76.00 following a plug by Jimmy Fallon.

Dan Lacey—Mitt Romney and Jimmy Fallon Engaged In A Game Of Nude Beer Pong: The Painting

Even though Mitt Romney’s not Canada’s problem, I like to keep an eye on him, so this painting could grow on me—but not my dad! My dad says it’s all wrong.

Luckily for him, I have less than $5 in my PayPal account.

My dad recoiled from this one too.

Dan Lacey—Mitt Romney in the Nude

Again it’s just my dad’s luck I have so little money—the bidding’s at $122 and climbing. The eyes are creepy, as though Romney’s considering who the biggest possible whackjob might be for a running mate. The way he stares out like that cat, he’s almost asking, Are you crazy enough? Because I need your vote.

My dad may be unwilling to invest in my art collection, but he did spring for a few onesies in the beer aisle a while back, including the almost unmentionable FRÜLI and—fortunately—several other better choices. Slightly on the weird side but not unacceptably so, PHILLIPS LONGBOAT CHOCOLATE PORTER caught his attention. In fact, he’d been looking for it since he tasted it (without me) on tap at a restaurant.

Chocolate porters are springing up everywhere these days and even being drunk by people who don’t usually like beer. Much the way people who avoid James Bond’s idea of a martini will down a chocolate one, those who dislike hoppy beers are sometimes amenable to rich, chocolatey beers that almost bridge the gap between flavored mixed drinks and straight beer. Almost.

If you are a fan of hops and malt, tastes like chocolate and espresso can be unwelcome. As a beer fan, you’re part of a choir that doesn’t need preaching to—you enjoy the standard spectrum of beer flavors and, while you might also enjoy a morning latte, you don’t necessarily feel compelled to combine the two drinks. I always thought my parents fell into this camp, but lately my dad’s been getting more open-minded.

We split the 650mL bottle between two Reidel glasses (egregious but true: I don’t ever get my own glass; I have to sip from one or both of my parents’). Lovely dark cola brown with an opaque white head, LONGBOAT CHOCOLATE PORTER makes no bones about being chocolatey—dark chocolate notes predominate overwhelmingly on both the nose and the palate. The mouthfeel is rich and creamy without being cloying and ends with just a hint of bitterness.

I see why my dad sought LONGBOAT CHOCOLATE PORTER out after trying it on tap. It’s nicely balanced and offers some unusual but still harmonious flavors. My mum (because she is boring) wasn’t taken with it, which was great, because I found myself with my own glass after she abandoned it. This is how things should be at LBHQ—me and my dad sitting around knocking back beers, heedless of his wife’s criticisms about chocolate having no place in beer. Yeah! I got my own glass and it was awesome.

LONGBOAT CHOCOLATE PORTER is only 5.2% alcohol, but when a small bear consumes 300mL of it, that small bear passes out. I got annihilated. And that’s why I ended up looking at paintings of Mitt Romney this morning—I thought it would help me throw up.

But as is usual with Dan Lacey’s art, his mastery overcomes the subject matter. Rather than yakking all over the floor, I found myself online trying to acquire another painting. Sadly for me, these ones are out of my financial reach, people, so you might have to get on ebay yourselves if you want any of them.

ASTROLIQUOR for April 27–May 3—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

You realize you’ve spent the last two months in hell, Aries. Take heart; things are getting better, but you still have to work to avoid a bar fight. This week features new friendships—in particular, a new bond with someone eerily like yourself, which you think is awesome. In psychology circles we call this narcissism. The condition is further fueled by some work success. Your big danger right now is hubris and the associated bar brawl that typifies an Aries weekend. Stay home and teach yourself how to make an Irish coffee.

Taurus, that anxiety you’ve been feeling eases off this week. Now that you’re not afraid of getting reamed out at work, you speak freely—ahhh! A long-absent sense of personal sovereignty returns, and so does your inner hedonist. Do only things you really want to do! Indulge your creative side by messing around with some paint. Or, if you don’t feel like venturing into Walmart to buy paint, make yourself an Absolut Zero: two parts each of vodka, Kahlua, and cream to one part peppermint schnapps. Lovely! Your inner hedonist wants you to have ten of them.

It’s a comfort week, Gemini. You’re all about staying warm, cozy, and non-serious—and you’re on a mission to minimize work. With no patience for deep thought or conversation, you’ll be actively trivial for the foreseeable future. Jettison any tasks that matter and break out the Bacardi 151. Add equal parts brandy and peppermint schnapps, then light the whole thing on fire.

An Aquarian colleague is interested in you, Cancer. Even though this person is creepy, you feel drawn to explore the possibilities. It’s happened to you plenty of times—sheer horniness conquers logic and you end up humping in a closet. This isn’t the only arena where bad judgment will figure this week. You really ought not to drive at all, with all these rutting hormones confusing left from right for you. Oh yeah, and you’ll buy a lot of Hypnotiq for strangers at the pub.

Leo, don’t stew about your recent bad luck. Instead, find the idiots who brought it on you (Libra, Aquarius, or Leo) and let them have it. At least one of these people is a masochist who won’t mind an abusive tirade. After spending the week being an asshole, you’ll find love on Saturday. I see a lot of sherry and tequila involved.

You’ll meet new people this week, Virgo, which is a relief, because you’ve worn out your existing friends. So novel are these newcomers that you’ll feel free to be yourself. Careful! Forcing new friends to read your languishing screenplay is a sure-fire way to drive them off. Why not mix up some Southern Comfort with triple sec and listen to their stories? Just sayin’.

Libra, an industrious urge comes over you, leading you to volunteer every which way. Be careful! If you take on too much, you’ll end up as everybody’s bitch. There’s nothing wrong with the initial impulse, but you do have some douchey friends who’ll take advantage if you let them. In fact, douchey friends are going to come out of the woodwork soon. That’s because you’re finally going to complete your dream bar. It’ll have everything……rum, amaretto, Jager… But how will you pay for it? That’s easy. You’re going to win the lottery on Monday.

Not everyone gets your sense of humor, Scorpio. An acquaintance will try to one-up you this week in the prank department and be totally out of your league. Nothing is out of bounds for you; you’re fully capable of preparing an earthworm sandwich and watching your pal eat it. But there is a hazard to you. In your quest to win, you’ll overspend, leaving only enough cash for paint-thinner gin instead of Bombay Sapphire.

Sagittarius, this week it occurs to you that there are two people in the bed: the other person and you. When you ask your partner how you’re doing, you get an earful—oh, snap! That’s what comes of trying to perform after half a dozen bourbons. The good news is you’re talking about it. The bad news is you might need to modify your lifestyle a little. When it comes right down to it, life’s pretty good—someone offers you money this week for very little work. Yeah!

You get an uncomfortable surprise this week, Capricorn. In fact, everything that happens is a surprise because you’ll be spending 100% of the week hammered. The culprit is (typically) Captain Morgan. When you start drinking that shit on the bus to work, you might as well not show up. Your colleagues think you’re a total space cadet, but you can get away with it for a few days.

Aquarius, good things come in threes, so start counting. First, you’ll meet someone nice—either totally new or someone from your past. Second, work will go smoothly; you won’t even need to take a flask. Third, you’ll go liquor shopping and spend your whole paycheque. How awesome! Start with Jack Daniel’s and fill a shopping cart.

Pisces, you are charmingly oblivious to how offensive you are. That’s a real gift. It enables you to behave in a vacuum, unencumbered by considerations of others. What a perfect state of mind when you’re solo. But it gets better! You’ll meet someone who mirrors these tendencies exactly—perhaps even someone from your old cell block. So immediately connected are you that you almost read each other’s thoughts. When one of you thinks vodka and the other thinks gin, you combine the two.

BROKER’S GIN—PART 8!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Do you ever feel you have a psychic connection to another person? Just yesterday I had the impulse to write to Julia Gale, Business Development Manager for BROKER’S GIN. At least three months had passed since our last contact, and I started worrying. Just before Christmas she had some knee surgery done to correct an injury sustained while busting out to the B-52s song “Love Shack.” I found myself anxious about the operation, the surgeon’s ability, and the general quality of the National Health Service.

Recently my Nana acquired a bionic knee, a procedure so painful that all she could say immediately afterward was “Ow.” (Once she got some meds in her she said things like “That knee surgery turned” and then conked out before finishing the sentence.) So I had a sense of how painful knee surgery could be and I started worrying about Julia—not just about her health but about the general state of things at BROKER’S GIN without her. Conceivably BROKER’S could be falling apart while she hit the nurse button for a double dose of morphine, and then how would any of us get any gin?

So I determined that I would write to her and, if it turned out she was in a terrible spiral of painkiller abuse, attempt to talk her off the ledge and back into the juniper-scented heaven of BROKER’S GIN.

But she’d read my mind and beaten me to it!

Greetings young LB

Are you worried that you’ve been forgotten?  Do you think that Broker’s Gin have given up on a listing in British Columbia?…

I’ll keep you updated!

Jules

Giddy at receiving this email, I sent a response:

Julia, you must be psychic! I was just drafting a letter (in my head) to you. I was getting worried about you and your knee. Just recently my Nana had knee-replacement surgery and was in tremendous pain. She had to exercise considerable strength of will to push away the pain killers. So of course I started thinking about you and your bothersome injury and the Love Shack-style gyrations that induced it. Are you recovered now? Are you off the pain meds or have they become a monkey on your back? Did the surgeon do a good job? I was a bit worried because I know your health care system is similar to ours…you wait a very long time and then sometimes the doctor smells like scotch, but not having to pay is nice.

Anyway, I hope you are well. I hope Martin and Andy visited you in hospital and brought you a flask plus a hefty salary increase.

Did you have an actual knee replacement or something less invasive? I do know something about having foreign objects in one’s body–my ass is full of dried lentils. Just imagine, if there’s ever a famine my family might be tempted to rip my backside open to find soup ingredients. And then I’d have a sagging behind, just like those teenage guys you see slouching down the street with their pants slung impossibly low so the crotch is at the knees and you get the impression that some waist-mounted dwarf is working the controls. Just recently I saw a posse of these dudes in orbit around an attractive teenage girl who was texting purposefully as she walked and thoroughly oblivious of all the falling pants around her. In the space of two minutes I saw each lad yank up his ill-fitting jeans at least once.

So if I lost my lentils, my rear end would look like that. The difference is that it would be naked.

Do you ever get drunk on beer, Julia, or just gin? I recently tried a beer that’s brewed much closer to you than me: Innis & Gunn Original oak-aged beer. It’s one of those sublime products that makes one suspect there is a higher power who cares deeply about one’s alcoholic needs—much like Broker’s Gin. I did check my local government booze shop the other day, incidentally, to see if Broker’s was there yet…but it’s not. But I know that with you back in the game the precious elixir can’t be far now. Ahhhh!

Be well, Julia! I missed you very much and honestly thought I was going to surprise you with a letter…but here you are, you’ve beat me to it.

Cuddles,

LB 

INNIS & GUNN ORIGINAL OAK-AGED BEER really is superb—enough to warrant its own review, written soberly. So that might take a while, but it is percolating between my two brain cells.

In the meantime, especially for you Canadians hanging on every new BROKER’S GIN post to find out when we can expect this ambrosia back in government stores, stay tuned.