beer

KITSILANO MAPLE CREAM ALE—Finders/keepers for the Easter Bunny

My Fellow Inebriates,

Ever lost a camera or memory stick while on vacation? Losing an awesome camera sucks, but losing months of saved pictures is devastating.

If you’re like many people, you leave hundreds of photos on your memory card without copying them over to your computer or printing them. I had to remind my parents of this the other day when my dad decided to take the camera card to work in his pocket. OMG! How would we get all those pictures back of me posing with wine bottles?!

Either this or the prospect of losing everything—from her trip to Ireland to Miss P’s 6th birthday—freaked my mum out and prompted her to copy the pictures over to the hard drive. But why was it so hard to get up the initiative to do it?

Is it because we believe in the kindness of others? Does my mum think that, if she left the Canon on a playground bench, someone would scruple to return it to her?

What would you do if you found a forgotten camera?

Well, first of all, I would look at ALL the pictures on it. Because there might be some funny or racy shots. But, after I finished snooping, I’d contact ifoundyourcamera. Founded by 21-year-old Canadian journalism student Matt Preprost, the site was conceived as a way to bridge losers with finders of cameras and memory devices—no fees to either.

There’s something really affirming about ifoundyourcamera. Using crowd sourcing to help us help other people is a great way of leveraging the web, and the site has pages of success stories to recommend it.

Just recently one of my mum’s friends accidentally left her camera in a restaurant after lunch. (If you have a lot of liquid lunches, the probability of this increases.) She never saw it again. In all likelihood it was stolen, but imagine if the thief had had the semi-decency to extract the camera card and contact ifoundyourcamera. He/she could have kept the camera, disavowed all knowledge of it, but returned the irreplaceable pictures. Then, using insurance money, my mum’s friend would have bought a kickass new camera.

If we’d had a kickass new camera, here’s what I would have done at Easter. I would have set it up on a timer to take pictures at intervals, so we could catch a shot of the Easter Bunny. You see, he took the last beer out of the fridge. It was a KITSILANO MAPLE CREAM ALE from Granville Island Brewery, one of the nicer Lower Mainland breweries and a cool tourist attraction.

When my dad bought this beer he was worried that the maple would be overwhelming. He bought it, I would assume, because he loves me so much; he wanted me to have something novel to review. Granville Island has a great track record with us, though, so that worry diminished before the beer finished pouring.

In the glass KITSILANO MAPLE CREAM ALE is a striking amber with a creamy head. On the nose, maple is apparent without being cloying; vanilla and caramel notes play back-up. On the palate it’s refreshing and balanced—again, not cloying, but satisfyingly sweet (my mum thought perhaps a little too sweet). The mouthfeel is very rich and creamy, yet still quite crisp. Moderately carbonated, this ale goes down very smoothly (and quickly). The sweetness lends it a perceived heaviness that might prevent (other) drinkers from imbibing it all night, and lingers on the tongue for quite a long time.

Overall, KITSILANO MAPLE CREAM ALE is a pleasant member of the Granville Island beer family. I’d still take the PALE ALE over it, but it’s a damn decent beer.

Unfortunately the maple flavor must have appealed to the Easter Bunny’s sweet tooth. I wish I’d been awake with the camera to catch a shot of him leaving us bereft of beer and leaving behind a shitload of non-alcoholic chocolate. But let’s face it, you don’t really want to leave a camera running non-stop: if it happened to catch my parents in some marital affectionate moment I would have to bash the whole apparatus to pieces.

And speaking of Things That Cannot Be Unseen, another of my mother’s acquaintance’s, Bea, once handed her camera to a trustworthy-looking tourist while on vacation in Mexico. She asked the dude to photograph her parasailing. Don’t forget my mother is ancient; this was before digital cameras. Bea did her parasailing bit, then looked anxiously for the tourist. Initially she thought he’d pulled a fast one. But he did emerge from the crowds and hand her the camera. When, back in Vancouver, Bea developed the photos at the drugstore, she found one shot of herself parasailing, and ten of the friendly tourist’s genitalia.

Which isn’t the sort of photo ifoundyourcamera would have published, even if Matt Preprost had been out of diapers and preternaturally web-savvy enough to start the site in preschool. So it was lucky for Bea that her tourist friend was so nice. Not only did she get a parasailing shot; she got some free porn too (which, incidentally, wasn’t how she saw it).

ASTROLIQUOR for March 30 to April 5—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

You’re going to hear an awesome piece of news over the telephone, Aries. So turn your cell on, or at least record a VM message that doesn’t make you sound like a douche. For one week you’re going to enjoy the feeling of having a soulmate—even if you don’t believe in soulmates. The result is a dreamy state, complemented nicely by Kahlua and amaretto in equal parts. (When it all goes to hell next week you can hit the rum.)

Taurus, you may be a mess personally but you’ll solve tons of problems at work this week. You’ll become a savior of sorts in the office, but don’t get dragged into being the Office Problem Solver. Keeping a low profile is much more fun. If there’s any danger of too much corporate success, hit the bottle. Here’s a conspicuous mix for your flask: 2 parts bourbon, 1 part triple sec and 1 part creme de menthe. No one’s giving you a corner office with that on your breath.

You’ll reconnect with some lovely friends this week, Gemini, but don’t let them into your personal space. They may be lovely for one drunken lunch, but you’ll find they turn needy if you tolerate them too much. Your best bet is to mingle wildly. Meet some new people. Take them home and make them some wild drinks (I’m thinking Yukon Jack with cherry brandy and Southern Comfort).

Get ready to meet the law this week, Cancer. Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna bust you. Instead you’ll find yourself dealing with boring legal matters…property or estates. And when you’re bored out of your head, the best solution is to blow your bank account on an exotic vacation. Choose one where the drinks are included and the sky’s the limit. When you order citrus vodka mixed with creme de cacao, you want a bartender who’s used to that kind of crazy shit.

Leo, the week looks productive but hectic, not to mention stress-inducing. Whenever somebody agitates you, mix yourself a Sidecar. Ahhh! If the people agitating you happen to be children, your head will be so full of cognac and triple sec by the end of the day that you’ll be off the hook for bedtime duties. Sounds like a parenting plan.

Unforeseen expenses will crop up this week, Virgo, leaving you temporarily high and dry. It’s just the tip of the iceberg—finances are going to shit. This means budgeting: no Midori Melon for you! No creme de cacao either! We’re talking cans of Pilsner. And if you want to continue buying those, you may have to live outside for a while. This is a good way to meet interesting people…maybe a special someone (with lice) on Saturday.

Libra, you’re not your extroverted self this week. Friends don’t know what to make of it; honestly, they think you’re being a tool. Don’t worry, it’s just temporary. This is a good week to hole up by yourself until the mood passes. Here’s a project to keep you busy:

  • 1 oz DeKuyper Buttershots
  • 1 oz Everclear
  • 2 oz whisky
  • 1 oz vodka
  • Splash grenadine
  • Splash orange juice

Shake it with ice and strain into a martini glass. Good luck—you are going to be messed up.

You have the feeling that everyone likes you, Scorpio. It doesn’t matter if it’s true; what matters is the positive vibe you radiate. Your optimism warms people and lures them into your warped world. These people are really nice, so take it easy on them. If they fail to challenge your intelligence, get drunk and they will seem smarter. Here’s your recipe:

  • 3 oz coconut vodka
  • 6 oz banana liqueur
  • 3 oz peach schnapps
  • 3 oz orange juice
  • 1 cup pineapple juice

There. Now your friends will seem smarter and better looking. And so will you until you vomit.

Sagittarius, your circle of acquaintances will widen this week, possibly through business travel. You’ll bond solidly with new people and learn about an unfamiliar culture. Nothing goes as well with this sort of personal enrichment as vodka and white wine. Make sure you buy a lottery ticket so you can win the money to pay for it, otherwise you’ll be mooching off your new pals.

Lay off the work this week, Capricorn, and indulge your imagination. For too long your colleagues have been bugging you to prepare spreadsheets and reports. Tell them what to do with themselves! With creative ideas like the ones bubbling around in your brain, who needs a job? Your head is as full of creative notions as it is vodka. For extra inspiration, mix that vodka with Kahlua, rum, and amaretto.

Aquarius, you’ll feel a strong urge to call in sick this week, and it might be a bad idea. Here’s why. If you stay home, you’ll never get out of your jammies. You won’t even make coffee. Instead, you’ll pour a bottle of vodka into a punchbowl. You’ll add four cans of limeade, followed by a case of beer. You’ll mix everything up until the limeade liquefies. And that will be your day.

Pisces, it’s not a strong week for discipline and responsibility. If you can confine your immaturity to your own inner thoughts, you shouldn’t do too much damage. If, however, you act upon your urges, you’ll spend much of the week with a head full of Jagermeister and peach schnapps. Needless to say, you won’t get that promotion.

Moobs—the springtime symbol of optimism

My Fellow Inebriates,

We saw our first shirtless man of the year today, rocking his moobs along 66th Avenue.

Whether too polite or too stunned by his wobbly pallor, my mother failed to take a picture. She said, invoking the usual clichés, that it was adequately seared onto her retinas, that it couldn’t be “unseen,” and all the rest of it. She said if my dad had the decency to confine his teats to the yard and she to cover her jiggly bits during Non-Swimming Occasions, surely this dude could spare us his flapping manboobs.

But I was really taken with his springtime exuberance. It was only 13°C out (that’s 55°F for my American friends)—not hot enough to warrant stripping off and barely warm enough to justify drinking lager over ale. But there he was, owning it, rocking those jouncy bits of his down the avenue.

The world needs more happy, optimistic people like this and fewer negative, critical people like my mum. Don’t you think? Does her smarmy, captious assessment of this, the first shirtless man of 2012, even compare to the joy he must have felt swinging down 66th today?

Even when he’s slathering aloe vera over his lobster-pink tatas this evening, he’ll be able to say, Yes, I’m a guy who lets it all hang loose.