drinking

OKANAGAN SPRING HOPPED LAGER—Fighting terror with 5.2% alcohol

My Fellow Inebriates,

You’d think I’d be pretty habituated to losing an hour here and an hour there, but daylight savings really throws me off. When I realize (a day late in this case) that we’ve skipped 60 minutes, I feel positively robbed.

But what was I going to do with that hour anyway?

  • Visit the People of Walmart
  • Nap
  • Bother Dolly
  • Hang out near the empties
  • Think paranoid thoughts

So the fact that it’s 9:45 instead of 8:45 isn’t the end of the world, although it does give one a sense of accelerating toward the End of Days. And as my parents pointed out, it means one less hour of “love and attention” from the girls.

It hasn’t reduced the paranoid thoughts, however. Yesterday I watched Glen Bear go through a cold-water cycle and tumble dry, all the while listening to my mother wonder out loud whether I wasn’t too fragile to take the next voyage. Even when Glen emerged unharmed, I couldn’t stop shuddering. Especially when my mother said, “Wouldn’t you like to be nice and clean like Fluffy?”

Arrrrrghhh! OMG!

Fluffy continues switching lights on and off, making pictures fall off the walls (he even made my Dan Lacey print fall down) with his mind (!) and generally exuding an uneasy presence/non-presence that creeps me out, people. With his Irishness, plus the extra kick toward St. Patrick’s day that our lost hour gave us this morning, he actually got me thinking about banshees. If you haven’t encountered one before, a banshee is a Gaelic spirit, female, who appears just before someone kicks the bucket and wails. While there are rare reports of them being beautiful temptresses, it’s much more common for them to look like my mother. There isn’t any liquor-related mythology surrounding banshees to recommend them. For all I know they like to put bears in the washing machine.

Needless to say, there’s an air of paranoia around here among the bears. Not only has Fluffy introduced a supernatural draught to the house; he’s raised the bar for bear cleanliness, threatening our general stability and peace. It doesn’t help that my friend Wetherby Bear published a series of washing-machine photos on his Facebook page, depicting the household bears, obedient and brainwashed, lining up to enter the Magtag hellmouth.

Never mind that I thought I heard a banshee howling this morning. After a moment I realized it was only little Miss V, screaming her lungs out because Miss P had scooped the big green towel after their bath, leaving her only 25 or so alternatives. She’d given my mum holy hell already and escaped in the end without a hair-wash.

Super-fresh smelling? Probably not.

Which to say it’s not just me. Lots of people hate getting washed. My friend Scarybear carries a permanent low-grade funk about him. The People of Walmart seem to avoid washing despite all the sweet deals on soap. Dolly describes my own Kavorka* as a “mixture of rancid Corona and derangement.”

Fleecy freshness vs mangy funk

You can maintain such an aroma only by consuming beer regularly—an argument that didn’t help me out too much with my mum. But luckily my dad is cool; he stopped for beer on the way home.

You might say I had some tremors to address, and the Okanagan Spring Craft Variety Pack offered four alternatives—three beers at 5% and, rising somewhat above them for my immediate purposes, the 5.2% HOPPED LAGER.

Despite crying out for a bottle redesign, the HOPPED LAGER is an appealing product. Pale gold in the glass, it sports lots of carbonation and promises refreshment, especially for hopheads. The aroma is fairly standard: hops and grain with some maltiness. In the mouth it bursts with hoppiness, and although the malt provides a decent counterbalance, the finish is lingeringly bitter—great if you’re partial to hoppy beers, but you might want to leave it on the shelf if sweet, malty beers are more your thing.

HOPPED LAGER is sufficiently middle-of-the-road to attract typical beer fans with its crisp fizz and signature hops. There’s nothing earth-shattering about it, but there’s nothing wrong either. It’s not precious or palate-bothering or even especially interesting—just a solid brew.

Poor Wetherby at the vomit bucket

Sadly the drinking experience was spoiled by my paranoia about spilling beer on myself. You see, the washing-machine discussion has not gone away. In fact, the kids have gotten on board, urging my mum to throw me in just so they can watch me tumble helplessly. Only my dad has my back—because he thinks I wouldn’t survive.

But who knows what my crazy mother will do once Dad’s gone to work?

*”Kavorka” stolen from Beerbecue (highly recommended)

HERMANN’S DARK LAGER—Don’t dye it green, weirdos

My Fellow Inebriates,

The strike action this week at the kids’ elementary school amped up my daily terrors. Even though the girls prefer ponies to bears, I was often included in their games. Looking back on the week, I’m astonished that I don’t have a new orifice. But, like any good Stockholm Syndrome sufferer, I like the kiddies. They are only the third most terrifying thing of immediate concern, the others being:

  • Fluffy. Whether he’s luring away my girlfriend with his overwhelming fabric-softened fluffiness, radiating a disturbing sense of mental vacancy, or making objects go bump in the night (with his mind!), Fluffy is an eerie reminder that my Granny might still be with us.
  • Leprechauns. Is it just me, or are leprechauns not totally creepy? I’m freaking scared of leprechauns, people; they’re right up there with clowns in the horror hierarchy. And with St. Patrick’s Day looming, these little shoemaking freaks are starting to amass.

Don’t get me wrong. I was crazy about Granny, Ireland is wonderful, and I salivate thinking about drinking Guinness on St. Patrick’s Day. But Fluffy is all wrong on any continent (he made a picture fall down last night with his mind—OMG!), and leprechauns—yikes!

What the hell is a leprechaun anyway?

  • They are Irish Faerie folk—miniature, smart, and mischievous.
  • They like to play tricks.
  • They have wild music and dancing sessions in the woods at night.
  • Each leprechaun has a pot of gold, which it protects with magical powers.
  • They love moonshine (Poitín), but not as much as their sheep- and dog-riding cousins, the cluricauns, who are total drunks.
  • You can’t catch them, their gold, or their moonshine.

Like my fear of clowns, my fear of leprechauns is totally irrational and even less likely to get tested (unlike clowns, who will inevitably appear one day for a birthday party—shudder). But still they give me the willies. Could it be that I’m conflating the idea of leprechauns with…Fluffy?

Wanting a distraction, I started wondering what beer to dye green on March 17. As much as my dad and I like Guinness, it takes a lot of dye to turn it noticeably green—much like the filthy Chicago River—and, not knowing what’s exactly in green dye, I thought a lager would turn green more effectively while involving less chemical roulette.

But the only lager in the house was HERMANN’S DARK LAGER. This certainly wouldn’t do for St. Patrick’s Day, it being a red-tinged cola-black, so I reckoned I’d better finish it pronto lest on March 17 I forget its unsuitability, toss half a cup of dye into it, and need to be hospitalized with tartrazine-related conniptions.

HERMANN’S is perhaps the most acclaimed beer in the Vancouver Island Brewery Pod Pack, with at least ten medals to its credit, including three Silvers in the World Beer Championships. Crafted according to Bavarian tradition, HERMANN’S captures the old-world style yet offers mainstream characteristics. Countless Vancouver Island pubs pour HERMANN’S on tap because of this artful balance.

As mentioned, it would take a considerable amount of green dye to effect a noticeable change in HERMANN’S. It has a lovely ruby cola appearance that hints at its Bavarian heft. The predominant scent is malt—generous and inviting, with toffee, cocoa, and espresso slightly offstage. The taste doesn’t disappoint: toasty malt with some nuts and that oh-so-subtle coffee undernote. The finish is pleasantly drawn-out with just enough bitterness. This is something Vancouver Island Brewery products excel at—producing a wonderfully smooth arc from sweetness to bitterness with some very well harmonized flavors.

As comfortingly heavy as HERMANN’S is, it doesn’t lack refreshment. I could picture myself pounding a six-pack now or in the summer, although it would be a shame to drink it too fast.

But it’s not a candidate for St. Paddy’s Day; turning it green would be a hopeless task. And that’s okay. Perhaps dyeing beer green is on a par with dyeing the Chicago River green—a dipshit idea for nitwits (myself included) who don’t give a crap about consuming extra chemicals.

And, strangely enough, in Ireland they don’t dye beer green for St. Patrick’s Day; it’s a North American practice. (Surprised?) The Irish don’t do half the shit we do for St. Patrick’s Day. They usually just make some cabbage soup or something.

And there are leprechauns there every day, people. OMG! That must be why Fluffy Bear is so freaky; he acquired magical powers living in Ireland and now he’s terrifying everybody here in Canada.

ASTROLIQUOR for March 9-15—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

You got wrecked last weekend, Aries, and you have similar plans for the one coming up. What starts on Friday may well continue into Monday. Phone your boss now and secure Monday/Tuesday off to recover. Sure, there’ll be a pile of work on your desk when you return, but that’s okay—it may reset your focus. Your attention span has been sketchy lately. Your brain cell count is probably down about 25% (and you know they don’t grow back!). That’s what comes of combining Smirnoff apple vodka and watermelon schnapps all day.

Taurus, somebody at work has a boot-heel on you this week, but you won’t let this freak control you for long. You are slippery as soap, and you know how easy it is to drop the soap. The drama that ensues will make your mate nervous as to whether your job is in jeopardy. If there was ever a time for Malibu, this is it. Mix it with some Blue Curacao and 7-Up to quell those anxieties.

You have plenty of opinions, Gemini, and this is a good week to share them. If you keep them to yourself and say “I told you so” afterwards, your friends will hate you. Tap into your self-confidence. This is a perfect week to tell people exactly what you think of them. And if you need a little help finding your nerve, a martini works wonders. For you, split-personality Gemini, a 4:1 gin-to-vodka ratio is perfect. Add vermouth and shake with ice; garnish with lemon. If it looks crystal-clear, you’ve done it right.

You feel busy but you’re actually your true lazy self, Cancer. But it’s a mistake to rest this week; your creativity is on a big upswing. Apply it to building a bar in your basement. Stock it with all kinds of Smirnoff, then branch outward to weirder things like Licor 43 and Blue Curacao. If you have your own bar, you’ll make friends more easily.

Leo, the psychiatrist’s couch is paying off with all kinds of insights into different areas of your life—work, education, relationships. You’ve learned what you’re good and not good at. For instance, you are very good at draining a bottle of blended whisky. You’re not as good at pacing yourself. Stretch that bottle out by adding other ingredients:

  • 3 oz whisky
  • 1 oz Grand Marnier
  • 2 oz cream
  • 2 tsp icing sugar
  • 2 egg yolks

Shake everything up with ice and strain into a champagne flute. If you’re worried about salmonella, skip the eggs, cream and icing sugar. Ahhh!

Your personal enrichment continues, Virgo, with art and love elevating you above your daily routine. You’re enchanted to the exclusion of all others. And with your own big bottle of vodka, you don’t need anyone else. Maybe just some Gatorade for taste and rehydration.

Libra, you’re hot for somebody who doesn’t share your feelings. Awkward! Don’t harp on it; you stand a strong chance of becoming a stalker. If you get frustrated, share your feelings with an impartial friend. But don’t abuse this person! Friends can only take so much obsessive lunacy. Distract yourself with this crazy recipe:

  • 4 oz vodka
  • 1 oz Pisang Ambon (emerald green and fruity!)
  • 1 oz passion-fruit liqueur
  • 2 oz vanilla ice cream
  • 10 oz pineapple juice

Shake it, shake it. What a lot of effort—but worthwhile if it banishes those crazy stalker thoughts.

A hook-up is in the stars for you, Scorpio. But will it be trivial or non-trivial? The only way to find out is to go home with that stranger. It’ll be a turbulent, emotional week, at the end of which you’ll be exhausted. This is not the week for experimenting with challenging recipes. I see you with one bottle in each hand, alternating Bacardi 151 and Wild Turkey.

Sagittarius, one of your posse will disappoint you this week, souring your relationship and derailing your emotions, which leads to more than a few work screw-ups. But don’t give up; you’ve invested a lot in this person. If someone offers to mediate, accept the help. Get out the blender, whirl up a big pitcher of rum, melon liqueur, lime juice, pineapple juice, and coconut cream. This is your Mediation Beverage. The three of you will either sort out your dispute or have a three-way—and if you’re lucky, both.

Ratchet up your efforts this week, Capricorn, and you’ll reach your goals. But don’t rope others into doing the work for you. Be patient and introspective. After a few days, look up from the grindstone and you’ll find someone checking you out. But it’s just a flirtation, not worth risking a long-term relationship. Ease up on the vodka so you don’t make any blotto decisions.

Aquarius, money isn’t everything, something you realize as the weather improves and nature becomes more attractive. Do outdoorsy stuff: feed birds, check out the ducks, go for a hike. It’s a little-known fact that hot people go outside. Don’t forget to take along a flask full of gin, just in case nature gets boring.

Pisces, you have to keep working no matter how tempted you are to pull a no-show. If you apply yourself, you’ll actually get results, although you have an unfortunate slack-ass reputation to overcome. Just remember, if you’re not earning money, you can’t buy beer. And the other incentive? Someone at work wants to get with you after hours.