vancouver island brewery

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.

PIPER’S PALE ALE—better without bagpipes

So apparently my mum is an expert on what evil spirits do when they are haunting a house or inhabiting a teddy bear for their own mysterious purposes. She said my latest accusation against Fluffy was the “most stupid thing” she’d ever heard and that I was obviously desperate for blogging ideas. This was a low blow coming from someone who’s been stagnating over the same dead novel for six years and doesn’t even have her own blog.

I said she wasn’t even properly caught up—Fluffy has been up to much more mischief since he plugged the toilet yesterday. His latest exploit? Making a mess on the kids’ bathroom mirror. You should see it, my fellow inebriates, it looks like he used Anti-Windex on it. I don’t know why he would do that! He deliberately put soapy streaks all over the mirror, which isn’t exactly a progression in evil from stuffing the toilet with TP.

My mum asked if I had considered that the kids had decided to “wash” the mirror for fun?

I had to admit that this hadn’t occurred to me, but it does beg the question: why isn’t my mother curtailing this behavior? She claims she can’t be everywhere at once (read: isn’t Facebook compelling?) and that it must have happened during Saturday’s dinner party when the kids took their little cousins upstairs to wash their hands.

I said: “What about Fluffy? No one knows what Fluffy was doing then.”

My mother: “He was probably staring at the wall.”

!!!

As if to suggest Fluffy is inanimate. Yes, he’s semi-comatose, but inanimate? Oh no. If Fluffy were simply fluff, we wouldn’t have a Fluffy Problem.

But is Fluffy evil, or is he just trying to get out attention? “You should know,” my mother told me, “since both apply to you.”

The truth is, I don’t have much experience with demonic possession or golems or even spoon bending. But if something like a Care Bear can exist, surely evil knows no limit.

My two brain cells were having difficulty, so I made a chart:

Evil Not Evil
Causes cold spots

Moves objects; causes noise

Turns on lights

Plugs toilet with TP

Took my girlfriend

Makes kids frightened

 Is very fluffy

Is catatonic

Eyes don’t glow

But doesn’t leave No. 2 in it

Doesn’t realize she exists

Does not take our beer

I agree, it’s inconclusive. I don’t want to think he’s evil, because he was Granny’s bear, after all, and she was nice.

So is it safe to get drunk with an entity like Fluffy in the house? Although my mother says the point is moot, my inclination is to say yes. So why didn’t we, last night, once the kids were tucked in? The Vancouver Island Brewery Pod Pack beckoned, including two beers we’d never even tried yet. But my mum, who can be quite domineering, cracked just one beer: PIPER’S PALE ALE.

PIPER’S gets its name from Bagpiper James C. Richardson, who lost his life in the Battle of the Somme in the First World War. This dude used to play his pipes in the trenches, inspiring—or inducing psychosis in, for those who aren’t bagpipe fans—his fellow soldiers to give ‘er in battle. He actually died going back for his bagpipes after assisting a wounded comrade to safety, earning himself a posthumous Victoria Cross. It must have seemed fitting to name a beer after this hero who so bravely served his country yet seemingly lacked a little in the judgment department.

My mum used to live in Victoria, where she had plenty of PIPER’S PALE ALE back in the day, so last night’s single bottle was a partial blast from the past—partial because we didn’t drink to the point of blacking out.

PIPER’S is a clear golden copper with a quickly dissipating white head. The flavor is friendly: malty and caramel-touched with a satisfying hoppiness. Richer than the SPYHOPPER we tried a couple of nights ago, PIPER’S has a bigger mouthfeel—nice weight with slight breadiness. With its malty beginning and hoppy finish, it makes a lovely arc from sweet to bitter, proving its reputation as one of the better pale ales local to Vancouver Island.

One of the best things about tasting PIPER’S was that no one was playing the bagpipes while we drank it. My mum got nostalgic and remembered there was this guy who always played the pipes at the Victoria Legislature—one tune, relentlessly—and she had a coworker who was actively campaigning to remove him. Much the way, she pointed out, I seem to be campaigning to remove Fluffy.

See, if Fluffy took up the bagpipes, it would make it so easy. Then I’d know he’s evil.

VANCOUVER ISLAND BREWERY SPYHOPPER HONEY BROWN

My dad looks awfully weird on Skype. I’m not used to his head being twice its normal size, but I put up with it because I had some questions about the trade show he’s attending in Toronto.

What is there to drink in Toronto? Will there be liquor items coming back? To me?

My dad said he went to an Irish pub for supper and ate fish and chips with his boss. My dad is totally boring.

Are there strippers and hookers there? Or both?

My dad said he’s at an electronics trade show and that therefore it’s full of geeks. I interpreted this to mean there would be both strippers and hookers. My dad said, “Actually, no,” at which I winked. The kids were sitting right beside me, after all.

Does my dad know that Fluffy turned the oven on while Mum was driving him to the airport?

My dad said he must have accidentally jostled the switch while he was pouring his coffee. (I don’t think so. My mum is at least a class-B OCD nutjob and she would have checked that before leaving the house.)

Does my dad think that Fluffy might burn down the house?

No. My dad commented (to my mum, right in front of me!) that I’m paranoid.

I asked whether my dad knew that we had purchased a 12-beer sampler from Vancouver Island and that it was all going to be finished before his return on Wednesday along with several bottles of wine.

He said he was really trying to Skype with the kids, if I didn’t mind (!)

It turned out to be untrue anyway. Yes, we did buy The Vancouver Island Brewery Pod Pack, but—because my mum is totally boring—we opened only one bottle: SPYHOPPER HONEY BROWN. It pours a lovely clear gold and has a very pleasant aroma—honey, hops, nuts, and some very mild floral notes—quite a complex nose for a honey brown ale. The bees who supply the honey make it from wildflowers local to Vancouver Island, contributing a delicate subtlety that I haven’t found before with this type of ale.

There’s some real achievement in the balance between scent and taste here. Floral essences can be tantalizing to the nose but intrude on the flavor. SPYHOPPER manages to suggest flowers to the olfactory department but withhold them from the tongue, instead bringing forth malt, honey, and hops and extending those flavors with crisp carbonation and a satisfying finish. The mouthfeel is a little on the thin side, but this is only a winter criticism—SPYHOPPER would be an unbelievably refreshing summer beer, that special kind you can pound or sip.

Lighter body makes SPYHOPPER a more middle-of-the-road drinking experience than most honey ales. It was very satisfying, and I would certainly get it again. In fact, if we can pound all of it before my dad comes back, then we’ll need to buy some more so he doesn’t feel left out.

That is, if the house is still standing. Last night Fluffy didn’t turn on the stove. (He wouldn’t dare! We’re watching for that!) But he turned on one light—the downstairs kitchen light, and the one my mum would be least likely to leave on (because of the time the kids flooded the bathroom just above it and sent water pouring through the ceiling where that light attaches). But in the morning, that light was on.

I don’t know what to think. Fluffy was my Granny’s bear, and my Granny was nice. So if Fluffy is housing her restless soul, shouldn’t he be doing nice things? Or NO THINGS AT ALL??