Beer of August: Sixpoint in a Tall Boy

The beer of the month is any Sixpoint Craft Ale that has found its way into a tall boy. This is a proud development for beer and for Brooklyn. I got to sample quite a bit of it this summer and it facilitated many bad ideas. Though, in most cases, "idea" might be flattering myself. Just uploading this photo of the cans made me wistful for the passing of this warm season. The last one I tried was the very fine Crisp, tasted on the brisk evening when I saw Clueless in McCarran Park. I've been wringing every drop of fresh air and sunlight out of summer and 16 ounce cans of Sixpoint have been an important part of that. Goodby fair season.

Beer of July: My Wort

Before July passes away, let me at least tell you about the beer of July. This month we're going with one that I haven't tasted because I can't yet. I'm not even sure it's real. But how can I resist posting when two of this blog's favorite subjects cross paths so spectacularly? Burnt Hickory Brewery in Kennesaw, Georgia is scheduled to open in November and offer a line of beers inspired by some fairly obscure '80s hardcore bands. Black Flag is not obscure, but I'm going with My Wort because working in media has given me a taste for puns. (Heh heh.)

It reminds me of the punk rock foodstuffs that occasionally featured in the Web comic Nothing Nice To Say. Except this might be real. It also might be more clever.

What's amazing is that all the beers sound delicious. They have a black plum lambic inspired by Void!


Via Transition Desert.

Beer of May: Köstritzer Schwarzbier

I actually put some thought into this month's highlighted beer. Several possible beers were considered only to be discarded. However, a visit to the enchanted confines of Burp Castle ended the quest. I ordered the Köstritzer black lager and I knew. It is to be a black spring.

The initial attraction was the seeming contradiction in a black lager. How did that happen? What can it possibly mean? They used dark malts. And it means that you get a beer with a flavor like that of a stout or porter but milder. Once I got my head around all this, the intriguing flavor and the aesthetics of Köstritzer Schwarzbier made her our May queen.

There are actually plenty of black lagers out there, but the Köstritzer is a German beer with a pedigree that dates back to the days of witch burning. It may even be the first of its kind. And something about that fits my mood and, perhaps, the zeitgeist, what with normal people suddenly fetishizing black metal because of Until the Light Takes Us or the new Burzum album or whatever.

My SO agreed it was the perfect beer for celebrating the impending mainstream acceptance of black metal, adding something like: "It's a lager. For all you normals." He had the double IPA.

I prefer to think of it as a beer that genuinely evokes Norwegian black metal, despite its German origins. True, the flavor was only mildly smoky, but you could think of that as being simply flat and monochromatic. And the aftertaste is slightly acrid, maybe even charred. And it's a lager, so thin and stripped down, pallid even.

Of course, a real black metal fan would insist on a pre-Christian lager, but for our dilettantish purposes Köstritzer is quite old and blackened enough.

Beer of April: Smuttynose Big A IPA

There hasn't been a beer of the month for some time, but it looks like I'm reviving that too. One reason there hasn't been a beer of the month is that my palate got all jaded, with one IPA tasting as good as another. Except for the Smuttynose Big A IPA, which is now available year round. Yowza.

It's got an unusually fruity flavor for an IPA. You get a big burst of citrus and hops ... and alcohol. I should have noticed that it was nearly 10 percent alcohol by volume. Taste the rainbow. Then enjoy the pleasantly bitter aftertaste.

Dear Festina Peche,

Will you go out with me? I'll buy you a Slurpee and make you the beer of the month for July on my blog ... no? ... oh ... okay ... I think you should still be July's beer of the month. Your tartness and sweetness is just perfect for such a hot yet still lively month.We will need something less robust come the airless little hells of August. But for now, especially in an air conditioned bar, you are the most charming company. It is easy to identify you, you beguiling sour wheat beer fermented with peaches, with the peach girl in your ads in BeerAdvocate.You're not cloying at all. Not like some of those cheap, fruit lambic temptresses.  No, your elusive peachiness is refreshing and genuine. Ah, if I'm rambling it's only because of the way you've turned my head. I apologize. Here, this Dogfish Head man explains it all much better:

Minor Beer Update

I did get to try the Snapperhead IPA from the makers of Porkslap Pale Ale. Drinking a distinctly flavorful beer out of a can is cool. I tried it at a place called Mini Bar in Brooklyn. The bartender dispensed it with the warning that the cans have a tendency to explode, so keep that in mind. 

The warning reminded a lady at the bar of a game called "beer hunter" that she played as a girl.  The name is a play on the 1978 film The Deer Hunter. I wish someone had told me about this alcoholic version of Russian roulette before. 

The rules are explained here: The Webtender.

This video elegantly demonstrates one possible method of play:

Happy as a hog in beer

 

May's beer is Porkslap Pale Ale, produced by Butternuts Beer and Ale in Upstate New York. I want you to know that you needn't drink watery brews in this unseasonable weather just because it is suddenly so hot in your apartment that you're ready to kill if your roommate turns on the stove. Nestle into the bathtub, pull a wet towel around your shoulders and crack open one of these guys. 

 

The happy, gut-bumping pigs on the convenient can will remind you that violence is never the answer, while the relatively low alcohol content will lower the chances that you'll do anything rash. And while it is a light and refreshing beer, the flavor is distinct enough to take your mind off things for as long as your beverage stays cold. (Get your koozies ready.) It would seem the flavor comes from crystal hop and fresh ginger, but I find it has a delicately buttery taste. I guess that's sort of inexplicable. Maybe the heat is getting to me.

Butternut also has an IPA called Snapperhead that I wouldn't mind sampling. But for the next thirty one days Porkslap has officially won my heart.

Have a Blast!

The yucks just keep on coming. This month's chosen brew is the Brooklyn Blast! from Brooklyn Brewery. This brewmaster's special reserve is as elusive as Sasquatch (I had it at Brooklyn Bowl and I'm sure I saw it at C Town not too long ago) but the aroma is much better. I hear Sasquatch kinda smells like ass. The Blast has a notably heavenly aroma, like the scent of the honey locust tree, or some other verdant richness. The flavor totally lives up to the nose hype too. Strong and green, but without harshness, or any rough edges really. It put me in a rare expansive mood.

Sadly, I have little else to offer you about this double IPA deal except its Beer Advocate profile, which at least proves its existence. Perhaps it will be on tap at the brewery.

Drinking on the G Train

I mean along that G Train. This Shecky's guide to bars near the G should keep you busy for awhile:

Ain't Nothin' But a G Train

Email Bag

I have been getting a lot of links today. Mostly from my boyfriend. They are all significant enough that I felt I should roll them together into some kind of link digest, as they are all on subjects of urgent import to the average Bad Idea Potluck reader. All 30 of you.

Here:
Google finally has biking directions!

A history of the breakfast taco

How to get West Coast coffee in a city as backward as New York

Regarding beer

You should be pretty set now.

White Snake Rules

The beer of the month is Coney Island Albino Python. I was drawn to the sexy label (good graphic design always triumphs over my powers of reason) and the words "white lager brewed with spices." I usually like a beer like that, but I still felt like a sucker for buying a beer largely because it said "Coney Island" on it and promised "a sensual dance of provocative hops and spices." But Shmaltz Brewing of New York (and San Francisco) apparently believes in truth in advertising.

I drank Albino Python staring out the window onto the snowy lot behind my building. It tasted warm and light and honeyed and spicy, just like all my pent up dreams of New York in summer. Much like the real New York in summer, Albino Python is also distinctly aromatic and somewhat hazy. 

If, like me, one of your summer dreams is to visit Coney Island when it gets warm, then that constitutes another reason to pick up a big old bottle of this stuff. Proceeds benefit Coney Island USA, an organization dedicated to preserving Coney Island's unique cultural heritage. Buy any one of the Coney Island lagers and you help make sure there will be some heritage left to check out whenever you (or I) get down there.

Defensive Ads for Shitty Beer

I feel a special affection for the Budweiser subway ads where they scrappily try to take on the entire craft brew movement by pointing out that the type of beer squirted into those little cans has a fancy name too. And apparently there are taste benefits to brewing a lager with rice. It imparts crispness and refreshment. Next you'll be telling me that brewing Miller High Life with corn gives it that distinctive warm savor of inexpensive. These ads are really funny all, but I kind of miss the frogs and Spuds MacKenzie.

I have no quarrel with shitty beer. It is great for times like when you are broke, want something to spray on your favorite band at the peak of their set, or when you have serious business to discuss and don't wish to be distracted by delicious flavors. It's also great for those rare occasions when one wants to drink without having to actually feel the effects of alcohol.

I try not to be bad spirited on here, but look at it. It is an ad campaign on the verge of tears. Like, is Dogfish Head seriously keeping these guys up at night? That's kind of exciting. There's surely no reason for it, though. I'd be surprised to find out that all the IPA's ever consumed in Williamsburg had measurably impacted the brand's bottom line.

Incidentally, it's no longer an American brand. It is owned by InBev, a multinational based in Belgium and run by Brazilians according to THIS and various other sources for my cursory research.

The great snow has begun.

The snow is coming down and that means it's time for the beer of the month, Smuttynose Winter Ale. It is an amber beer perfect for preemptively staving off cabin fever. There's something woody and tea-like about the smooth flavor that subliminally suggests it will cure what ails and fortify against maladies real and imagined. The dark color is suggestive of water in frozen puddles turned brown by the dead leaves marinating in them. There is nothing festive about this winter beer. It is a solemn, almost sober beer. It is one for the months like February and March, a beer for seeing winter through. Or at least the next day or so.

One for the Bad Idea Potluck Quote Book

It took me a long time to finish reading Carson McCullers' The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. A friend gave it to me when I was in college and that was a presidency or two ago. It's a beautiful story, but the pacing mirrors the way time passes in the kind of depressed Southern town where the story takes place.

It all paid off for me toward the end as Mick Kelly, a bright young teenager with an intense inner life, sits in a cafe contemplating the shit job she has taken at Woolworth's to support her family. As she enjoys her ice cream and beer, she thinks:

"Next to music beer was best."

Um, it's possible that you have to read the whole thing for that sentence to have the proper impact. Fortunately, you can surely get a copy at your local independent book retailer. The edition I read is pictured above. It has the best illustration on the cover of all editions I have seen.

Keegan Super Kitty

Keegan Super Kitty is January's beer of the month. It is a seasonal version of Keegan Ales's Hurricane Kitty. I've chosen it largely because the name sounds like a riot grrrl band to me and that is reason enough. Reason enough, at least, to try it at Barcade a few weeks ago. I was not disappointed by the flavor of this hoppy, complex and powerful beer. It's brewed from excess of the Hurricane Kitty recipe and, at 12 percent alcohol, it packs a wallop worthy of Bikini Kill. (Actually, Super Kitty and Hurricane Kitty are named for the brewmaster's grandmother, who must be awesome.) Name aside, it's the sort of hardcore beverage called for in a bitter month like this one.

Keegan Ales, is located in Kingston, NY. As a new (returned, whatever) resident of New York, I feel I should familiarize my self with local brews. Any suggestions? I'm starting here at Gotham-imbiber.com

Santa's Secret

Until we get a few questions about whether or not we are living in a legitimate apartment straightened out, my contact with the Internet is limited to brief, furtive trysts here at the cafe. (Welcome to Brooklyn.) But I fear to let more time go by without officially declaring the beer of the month. Behold Santa's Private Reserve from Rogue Ales. Because, as Sean would say, "The elves are drunks." They say they make it with "free range coastal water," and the sound of that would skeev me the fuck out except that the beer is so hearty and spry (like Saint Nick, y'know) that it has just got to be some good water.

Turkey Day minus turkey is the way to go.

I'm not a inhuman monster, I swear, but Thanksgiving has never been my favorite holiday. I'm not into turkey or empty ritual based on events in American history I have zero identification with. Then again, maybe the empty ritual just needs some tweaking. After last night, I'd say the holiday needs more beer and less meat and that you should celebrate it with whoever is around. Sorry, Aunt Judy.

 

 

 

There now that's better. I celebrated this year at the Charlotte, North Carolina home of Julia and Erik. Julia acted like cooking a whole vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner that makes you totally forget the vegetarian part and just go nuts stuffing your face wasn't anything extraordinary. It is extraordinary, but some aspects may be simple enough for anyone to adopt. There's the no tofurkey aspect, for instance.

The theme for the menu was Southern vegetarian. On my plate, clockwise from the fork, you will find cheese grits and gumbo, potatoes, stuffed cabbage, Yorkshire pudding, and greens and brussels sprouts. Below that photo is banana bread pudding a la mode in a bourbon sugar sauce brought by Erin, who is the only person in the group photo not making a weird face. Oh, man, I'm still full. At least in my heart.

My friend went to Fest 8 and all I got was these sweet photos

Going to the Fest in Gainesville, Florida wasn't in the cards for me this year, but my friend Sandra Julien of Seattle, Washington went and agreed to be the Potluck's Fest correspondent.

"If you go to this you will have the time of your life, but then get sick as fuck for a week after. Don't say you weren't warned," she reports.

She is, of course, referring to the well-documented phenomenon known as Fest AIDS. It might be that the average person isn't constituted to watch several dozen sets of weapons-grade pop punk with gruff vocals over the course of a single weekend, and that trying to do so dangerously weakens the immune system. It may also be that the fans and practitioners of this form of music are vectors for disease. Unfortunately, the research is inconclusive and No Idea Records has declined to comment.

I can tell you from personal experience that Fest AIDS is not life threatening and the Fest is totally worth it. As Marissa Paternoster of Screaming Females, who played the Fest last year, once sagely observed, "Who doesn't love a sweet frat party?" To be fair, it looks like piles of girls played this year, including bands like Cheeky that I yearn to see live. So bummed.

Seven Seconds

Lauren Measure of The Measure [SA]

Sheena Ozzella of Lemuria

Epic line

Hot Fun in the Wintertime

Okay, it isn't winter yet but that doesn't change the fact that Harpoon Winter Warmer is only available through January so we need to make it the beer of the month and tell you about it now. That isn't much time after all.

This is the beer to drink with friends and family over the holidays. It is also the beer to drink alone after the inevitable arguments and bad vibes. It is not a complex beer. It is an amber ale that tastes like nutmeg. Just nutmeg. There is also cinnamon, but for once in its life that showboat takes a back seat. You will know by this that you can trust the Winter Warmer. It will both warm and sooth you.

Equal Opportunity Clothing Swaps

Clothing swaps have gotten to be a habit in my social circle. So much so that my friend Sarah's boyfriend Andrew was recently moved to muse on the possibilities of clothing swaps for dudes. In my experience, the clothing swap is a largely female pastime. (I've held clothing swaps attended by dudes, but there was only so much good it could do them since they weren't looking for dresses.) This is a pity. After all, the clothing swap seems made to order for those dudes who dislike shopping.

To ameliorate this, Andrew and I  have worked out some rules for the dude clothing swap. Now all a dude has to do is take the initiative, invite dude friends over and trade those t-shirts and hoodies that someone close to them may or may not be trying to get to them to throw out. This way they go to caring homes. (The hoodies, not the dudes.)

Certainly, you can do a clothing swap in any way you want, or follow the lady-centric rules available on the Internet. But if you are feeling awkward about group nudity or showing open concern for your sartorial well-being these suggestions will smooth things over:

1. For each piece of clothing you take you have to shotgun a beer. (My friend Carrie objected that this could get dangerous fast, but, admit it, you are picky and your friends don't have that many good clothes.)

2. You can't drink unless you take clothes. (No sitting and watching, Pervo.)

3. For each article of ugly-ass-unlovable clothing you bring that no one wants you will have to remove a piece of your own outfit and go home that way.

4. If there is a dispute over a garment up for grabs, the dude who puts his crotch on it first gets to keep it. (I came up with this one. Andrew, whose idea this was in the first place, wasn't so sure. Maybe that rule should be optional.)

5. Send me pictures.

(As a side note, if you are a lady in the Atlanta area and you would like to host a clothing swap in accordance with these rules, contact me immediately.)