Being a female beer geek I am often in situations where I am surrounded by beer, food, and testosterone which is ironic considering the centuries old tradition of woman’s place of power, prestige, profit, and status within the proud culture of brewing at home and within the pub. But enough history fibble-fabble. I am woman and I love beer. Ultimately, that is all that matters in our new world of beer revival and traditional appreciations. And so I found myself on the eve of December 10th in the apartment preparing my awesomely eclectic chili for a night of beery delights. That’s right – Brewpostles II was upon me and where there is beer, friends, food, and memories, there will be me, Beer Ambassador of the Free World.
I missed the first Brewpostles due to car troubles and though they still persisted, I was not going to miss this second coming. Considering the pointed looks of “be there or be there” and my attachment to life, preparations were locked and loaded. Chili warming, workout worked out, shower showered, I loaded my car for a gander down south to Mark Ball’s house. Yahoo maps notwithstanding, I arrived safe and sound.
The early beer geek gets the beer so Mark and I chilled by the pool with a couple pre-Brewpostles beers while waiting for the others. Joe was next, and it wasn’t long before I was a happy bubble of estrogen within a merry ocean of raucous beery hormones. But as I mentioned previously, it’s not about the X or the Y or the ABC – it’s about beer, glorious ‘God is good’ beer.
With a sufficient arctic chill in the air, Mark’s fire pit was readily available and readily used with blocks of wood, sticks, and pine cones too. Marc Boland made himself snug as a Floridian by the fire pit while I gathered round the table, tasting book, glass, and camera in hand. As the night slowly rode on into the early morning, food aplenty in the kitchen from all my Brewpostle buddies kept our bellies plump while a multitude of intriguing beers kept our thirst sated. Some were good, a few were great, and even fewer were blarf worthy. One in particular stands out in my nights of cold sweats and blood curdling screams – Viru. On the flipside, the Campeador Rurik from the mad brewers at Cigar City was my personal highlight. Coming in a close second was the Panil Bariquee, proof that France really can brew tasteful artisanal beers if they so choose to. And in a world all her own, the 100% Kriek from Cantillon. Ah, Lambic, how I love thee…
On a side note, the sausage bread was fanfreakingtastic. And on another side note, any brewer can brew tasteful artisanal beers if they so choose to…choosing to being the key focus.
But I digress.
Eventually tasting notes were absconded for tasty brews with a tasty a Montecristo Platinum Series thanks to my lovely and Disney Cruise Lines. It was the perfect nightcap to a warm evening of dear friends and tasty brews. As my fellow merry goers slowly trickled out into the cold night air, I wandered my way into the spare bedroom with water in hand and sweet dreams on the mind. With home being quite the drive away, the simply safe thing to do was to graciously accept my host’s hospitality. Mark had an early golf game to tend to the next morning so it was just me and the sleepies as the sun grumpily creeped over the horizon. Thankfully a dense dose of fog diminished his untimely glare. Add to that zero hangover worries, other than a lack of sleep it was a wonderfully refreshing conclusion to my Brewpostles II inauguration.
I’ve said it before and I still hold it to be true: good beer has bought irreplaceable goodness into my life. To my Brewpostle mates, it may be a bit late but thanks and Happy New Year. To another 365 days of tasty brews and treasured memories.
(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)