polar bear

OLD BOY ALE—A calming brew for when there’s a killer in the house

My Fellow Inebriates,

As a generality, animals that are predators have forward-facing eyes—all the better for chasing other animals. Animals that are prey have side-mounted eyes—all the better for scoping out the periphery.

Eyes in front, likes to hunt.

Eyes on the side, likes to hide.

Thus—and this argument is often advanced by those who believe vegetarianism is unnatural for humans—animals with eyes in front (lions, tigers, wolves) are usually carnivores. Wall-eyed animals (bunnies, sheep, squirrels) tend to be herbivores.

Take this duck, for example.

duck

Okay, so ducks are kind of in the middle. They’re omnivores—they eat insects, weeds, small fish, and whatever you chuck at them in the park.

Now take this duck. No really, please take this duck.Minolta DSC

Carnivorous Duck is the most amoral animal at LBHQ. In fact, he’s the only animal who’s ever attempted to eat the kids.

He’s been off my radar recently, confined like Hannibal Lecter to the spare toybox. And let’s face it, if one of my brain cells forgets to remind the other of hazards such as Carnivorous Duck, the threat of predation gets falsely diminished.

I only thought of him because of this pic from 2006.

Scary, me, Glen Bear, and Carnivorous Duck, late 2006. Only Glen was happy about the snow.

Scary, me, Glen Bear, and Carnivorous Duck, late 2006. Only Glen was happy about the snow.

As placid as it is, as comfortingly wintry, I felt unsettled after yesterday’s post. That’s when I realized, CD has been loose in the house for a while. Then when Emily asked about him, it all flashed at me malevolently—Carnivorous Duck is at large, and Glen Bear is missing.

Would CD be ambitious enough to eat a polar bear? I mean…a bear?

He always said he wouldn’t eat me or Scary because we were rancid. But then he’d kind of laugh, and his eyes would narrow. Carnivorously.

The key is not to think about it. Fortunately my dad bought more Parallel 49 beer—OLD BOY ALE, a classic pub-style ale ringing in at 5% ABV and 25 IBU.

old_boy_bottlesWhen you’re terrified of predation and worried you might find a polar bear carcass somewhere in the basement with little beak marks on it, a rich, mellow brown ale with slight off-white foam and minimal lacing is a good reminder that the world is generally a good place. Yes, there are monsters, and some of them live at LBHQ, but how can you dwell on them while inhaling caramel-coffee-toffee-malt with well-behaved fruitiness hanging politely in the background? On the palate OLD BOY ALE bursts with mild nuttiness, bakery notes, earthy hops, riding along with moderate carbonation, a semi-creamy mouthfeel, and the quintessential pub-ale aftertaste. It tastes like another. And another. If I saw this on tap at a bar, I’d get under the tap.

Although it’s characterized as a bitter, OLD BOY ALE is more of a gentle brown ale. Definitely a good winter beer—a soothing, reassuring beer without too much bite but still supplying lots of interesting flavors. Paws up for sure.

You know what it’s like when you’re all alone and you feel like you’re being watched? Well…it feels like something is watching us right now. With forward-pointing eyes. But it can’t have any OLD BOY ALE, because we finished it. Let’s hope Glen isn’t finished as well.

Glennnn! 

ROBERT OATLEY SHIRAZ (2009)—Fails to lure Glen Bear back to LBHQ

My Fellow Inebriates,

Glen Bear has disappeared.

Glen Bear attacking Miss P

Glen Bear attacking Miss P, 2006.

You may not remember Glen…. Big fluffy polar bear…hates summer, likes the freezer, could devour a whole seal if one flippered its way through the house….

I started looking for Glen last week when the temperature dipped under 0° (Celsius, my fellow inebriates, otherwise I would have been dead). Glen only really likes his environment when it’s freezing cold, and it’s the only time he’ll allow a cuddle. I needed him to warm me up. And that’s when I realized he’d vanished.

Scary, me, Glen Bear, and Carnivorous Duck, late 2006. Only Glen was happy about the snow.

Scary, me, Glen Bear, and Carnivorous Duck, late 2006. Only Glen was happy about the snow.

My dad said he moved with us for sure back in August. But I can’t really remember. The last time I saw him, the kids had stuffed him into some tight space—maybe a backpack or a box—but what happened to him after that? I don’t even remember which house we were living in then!

It’s sort of a good lesson about drinking, really. Being blasted all the time, I haven’t paid enough attention to Glen’s whereabouts. A big animal like Glen could lumber off anywhere. Polar bears have ridiculous olfactory sensitivity; he might have smelled a female down the street and gone off in pursuit.

Miss P says he didn’t go anywhere. She says Glen “doesn’t really walk.” I said of course not, of course Glen doesn’t walk—he has more of a four-legged gait.

Glen looks more like this when he drinks Polar Ice

Glen looks more like this when he drinks Polar Ice.

When Glen gets mobile, the floor shakes. He’s at least 50 percent bigger than Scarybear—a massive, awesome creature (also our under-recognized resident vodka expert).

So where is Glen???? The kids are curiously unconcerned. One thing is clear, though—if I’m to manage my anxiety, I’ll need some liquor. Not vodka, though—that would remind me of Glen. Maybe ROBERT OATLEY SHIRAZ (2009).

The Mudgee region is one of Australia’s less-advertised wine areas, known mostly for providing blending grapes for such larger wineries as Hunter Valley. ROBERT OATLEY SHIRAZ represents a Mudgee play for higher status. Let’s open it.

Glen has helped me open bottles occasionally, mostly by smashing them, but in his absence my parents had to help. First impressions are earthy, peppery, dense fruit with a hint of taxidermy. The scent does not radiate good behavior, but 14.1% is what’s needed to contend with an anxiety like Glen’s disappearance.

robert oatley shiraz 2009The first sip of ROBERT OATLEY SHIRAZ is a reinforcement of concentrated fruits: blackcurrant, tinned jam, decent acidity, moderate-to-aggressive tannins, and distant wombat farts. Which is to say: it’s not half bad. For you solidovores, it would pair nicely with savory foods, barbecued meats and such. For my “liquids-only” friends, it’s a bit of a chore on its own. Likely you’ll be comparing it to the last really good Australian Shiraz you enjoyed—and there are so many out there that comparisons will pop out immediately. ROBERT OATLEY SHIRAZ approaches the good-natured drinkability of its typical $20 Australian cohort, but it evinces too many conflicting and barnyardy notes to hang with truly awesome Shirazes. It’s just okay, and maybe even a little obnoxious.

Drinking a bottle of Shiraz did not sharpen our memories as to where we last saw Glen—not mine or my parents’. As for the kids, they think maybe he went with them to Nana and Papa’s. Or to school. Or no, maybe not either. They don’t care; they’re watching TV.