beer review

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.

WHITE BARK Wheat Ale—The start of a good party

My Fellow Inebriates,

This morning, in a moment of disloyalty, I tried to stow away in Christine’s fabulous canvas bag. Yes, Christine had arrived the night before bearing wheat ale, red wine, and—treasure of treasures—Glenmorangie 18.

We kicked things off with the wheat ale. WHITE BARK is a traditional Belgian-style ale brewed by BC’s Driftwood Brewery. Intended to be cloudy, WHITE BARK pours a hazy golden hue with a fine off-white foam that settles down quickly. It announces itself to the olfactory centre with a wheat-borne flood of coriander, clove, and citrus notes—in some aspects (perhaps I have gin on the brain) channeling Bombay Sapphire down to the very bottle, which sports a similar vertical row of tasting-note glyphs.

As we inhaled WHITE BARK we noted a strong yeasty backbone, which played out on the palate along with Belgian-style fruitiness and malt. Refreshing at ice-cold temperature, the ale became slightly cloying as it warmed and the flavors cut loose. The carbonation was prickly and pointy, urging WHITE BARK toward mainstream Pop Rocks quaffability even as the intriguing fruit notes insisted that no, it was not in any sense an ordinary beer.

And it wasn’t. But you have to really like wheat beer to appreciate an ale like WHITE BARK. It’s crisp and dry but still belongs unmistakably to the fruity-yeasty-wheaty camp. There’s a lot going on in it—sort of like a party that splits off into several factions, one of which decides to chuck a seven-foot cactus off the roof into the pool while the rest continue their obliviously sedate conversations. Which is to say I liked it, although I might not buy it again immediately.

And that was when I noticed, one of the compartments contained not booze but paper towels. Paper towels!!

Finishing the WHITE BARK bottle left a compartment empty in Christine’s canvas bag. (We didn’t get to the red wine, although some other, magnificent booze was shared.) When I peeled myself off the counter this morning, the first thing I saw was that empty space—just roomy enough for a little bear. So I climbed in.

And then I started to worry. My initial thought had been: Every time Christine comes over, she brings tons of booze! But my worry was this: If Christine has tons of booze, it’s because she saves it, and that means she doesn’t drink it very often. OMG!!!

At that moment my mum found me and helped me out of the bag. She said I had a blog to write, and some cheap crap to drink later—hooch so cheap we can drink it every day.

I’m right where I belong. (But Christine is welcome to come and live with us.)

Calling all booze producers! Get valuable exposure for your brand!*

You can only review booze if there’s booze in the house. But certain realities at LBHQ have come to my attention:

  • My parents are not quite alcoholics. They prioritize other expenses over maintaining our hooch supply.
  • The human kids’ needs take precedence over ursine ones. If one of them needs shoes or lunch money, guess who gets shafted on the vodka.
  • LBHQ is moving this summer. This might divert funds to relocation expenses, although I see a case of beer in the future.
  • LBHQ has not yet succeeded (or even attempted) at monetizing—i.e., I haven’t given my parents the financial raison d’être they’d like.
  • Sourcing all the booze on my wish list could apparently bankrupt us. OMG, bankruptcy!

So that’s that. Booze producers, if you’re reading, we I need samples! At LBHQ no bottle goes unnoticed. Hell, if you’ve fermented something in your bathtub I’ll review that.

I like everything, but I like some things better than others.

Email liquorstore@gmail.com for a shipping address. I promise to review your booze within three months, and your brand will get exposure to my countless followers 😉

*LOL