By Timothy Long I love fall. It is by far my favorite time of year. Oktoberfest begins in September and brings us many wonderful new festbiers to enjoy. Blue Crab season runs well into October. The torturous humidity of the DC area dissipates. It’s a time for blue jeans, sweatshirts, and sweaters. But the best part of fall is the way it kicks off, pun intended. In the last weeks of August, College Football returns and tailgating season begins! The great thing about every subject mentioned in the previous paragraph is that you can enjoy them all together. You can easily put on your college sweatshirt and blue jeans, go to any crab house, and drink festbier while watching your game and devouring crabs. My wife and I will do this a couple of times this season. However, as much as I love them, blue crabs are not the best tailgate food. They are messy. They draw tons of flies. And the set-up takes way too much room. So, we’ll deal with crabs another time. The tailgate is a huge American tradition. And it is not just about drinking before a football game. These types of celebrations occur in the fall, and have for centuries, when growing season ends and the crops have been harvested. The football tailgate is merely an extension of those celebrations. University of Notre Dame cultural anthropologist John Sherry states that: The idea of getting out of your house and feasting and drinking somewhere else is a pretty old tradition. People eat and drink and build up community in the process. It’s one last blowout before we hunker down for winter. It is believed that fans partied before the first college football game between Rutgers University and Princeton University in 1869. And legend has it that…
By Timothy Long We’re on the ninth hole and all agree that it is cigar time. We teed off at 10:30 in the morning. It is now 12:45 P. M. Not a bad pace for a bunch of old guys who cheered when they found out that the beer cart girl had Bloody Mary’s. Making a Bloody Mary takes a little longer that popping open a beer. Plus, most of the guys were enjoying chatting with the beer cart girl. Our cigar of choice was a Nub Habano. It is a great golfing cigar. It has a larger ring gauge, which refers to a cigar’s diameter. It’s also a lighter smoke. I keep a cigar clip in my golf bag. You never know when you are going to be presented with a cigar while golfing. The two traditions have been intertwined for centuries. I attached my cigar clip to the top back of my golf bag, clipped my cigar to it, and head to the tee. I’ve learned to always attach the clip to the bag, not the golf cart. I’ve lost two that way. “Hey look!” my buddy Smitty yells. “Mr. Pretentious has a clip for his cigar!” We all attended college together and are fraternity brothers. The razzing is all part of the brotherly experience. I unwittingly did a great job of making myself a target. “Nice fancy shorts, Tim.” My buddy Dave says. I wore peach-colored madras shorts. I asked for that one. “Oh, Mr. Pretentious can keep score on his watch!” Yes, Smitty, my golf watch does keep score. “Ooh, Tim is drinking Stella Artois!” The country club did not have a large selection of beers. The rest of those sods were drinking Coors Light. Anyone who reads this column knows my opinion on that. Golf,…
By Timothy Long “Tonight, we’re going to party like it’s almost our bedtime.” I do enjoy writing destination pieces. I love experiencing someone else’s culture and exploring the different beers that they enjoy. The destination does not have to be exotic. Trust me, this one isn’t. And it doesn’t have to be outside of the country either. This place may sometimes feel like it is, but it isn’t. The world of craft beer can be explored without traveling very far. So where am I writing about? Wild, wonderful West Virginia. I received an email a couple of months ago. A gathering of a bunch of 1980s relics, such as myself, who graduated from West Virginia University was being planned. My Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity brothers were having an alumni golf outing in Morgantown, WV, the home of WVU. A handful of guys from my era had been hosting this event for 40 years, rotating it to different locations around the country. I started playing golf, or at least started trying to play golf, about nine years ago. And this was the first time my schedule allowed me to attend. Plus, it was going to be in the town of our college shenanigans. We have a lot of history there. I got there on Friday around 2 pm. My buddy Dave had texted me that he was already there. We met at the hotel and headed to a nearby local sports bar called Keglers. The nostalgia of being back at WVU was upon us. A sort of college fever if you will. We sit at the upstairs bar and are greeted by Lindsey, a very sweet bartender. Dave orders a Guinness. I look at him. “What?” He says. “Nothing” I reply. “I like Guinness.” He retorts. “So do I.” I state….
By Timothy Long Summertime is upon us. It’s time to enjoy picnics, baseball, beaches, cookouts, and swimming pools. But most importantly, it’s a time to indulge in lagers and pilsners. Those wonderful golden refreshing brews that become so popular when the weather warms. Summer is when these lighter crisper beers come into their season. Nothing is better on a hot sunny afternoon while you’re scarfing down a hot dog at Nats Park. But which one should you choose? Aren’t lagers and pilsners the same thing? No, my friends. They are not. But they are similar. So, do you know the difference between a lager and a pilsner? No? Well then, little buckeroo, you need to pull up a barstool and have a seat. And let Uncle Tim tell you a classic tale. A tale worthy of any story book. The tale of the lager and the pilsner. A long time ago in a faraway land known as Bavaria, a revolution in brewing was occurring. A new yeast had just been discovered. A yeast that behaved very differently than any known before it. This yeast fermented at the bottom of the brew instead of the top, and at colder temperatures over a longer period. Bavarian monks began making a new beer with this odd yeast. They would store or “lager” their new brews in ice caves in the Bavarian Alps over the summer. When these casks were opened in the fall, a lighter, cleaner, crisper beer emerged. As the centuries passed, the process evolved. As the website beerexpert.co.uk explains it: “The word lager comes from the German lagern (“to store”), and it is in Bavaria that the drink finds its origins. In the early nineteenth century Bavarian brewers began experimenting with brewing techniques that involved storing their beers in cold beer…
By Timothy Long Did you know that? I didn’t. A trip to Cabo, Mexico last winter ended up not just being fun, but educational. Back in January, I wrote about finding a wonderful craft brewery in Cabo. I approached tasting the beer with much trepidation. But as I wrote in the article, “A Funny Thing Happened While in Cabo”, I was pleasantly surprised. The beer was wonderful, and the trip to the brewery a fantastic experience. I admonished myself for not being more open minded. Another tasting experience in Cabo was equally enjoyable, a tequila tasting. We participated in one at a bar at our resort. I approached this adventure with much enthusiasm. We were in Mexico. Why not learn more about tequila! Being a bourbon drinker, tequila has never been one of my first choices when it comes to cocktail hour. And to be honest, an experience with it in college caused me to not be able to drink, or even smell, it for years. That all changed over time. I’m wiser and have a much more refined palate now. God only knows what kind of rot gut tequila we college boys were drinking that night. My wife, brother-in-law, and I were seated at a circular outside bar that had a great view of the Gulf of California. Beautiful boats and birds were everywhere. People were water skiing and parasailing. In the distance, I noticed a spout of water shooting up by a cluster of boats. They were whale watching. Two humpback whales were within a few yards of their boats. I love whales. And you see plenty of them while in Cabo. I was so mesmerized that I almost missed the beginning of the bartender’s tequila lesson. He did a great job of explaining how tequila was produced….
By Timothy Long The growler is an important tool in any craft beer drinker’s arsenal. When we visit our favorite breweries or brewpubs, it’s how we bring home tap beer that is not normally available for carry out. They always have beers that are on limited release and not available in a can or bottle. Well, at least the good brewers do. And these beers are usually among the finest ones available. A growler is just a jug. However, the original growlers were not jugs. They were 2-quart pales that people brought to the breweries to transport their beer home. The name “growler” came from the noise the beer supposedly made as it sloshed around the pale and caused carbon dioxide to escape. I love my growler. It’s wonderful. My wife got it for me for Christmas a few years back. She really knows the way to my heart. Most growlers are made of glass and purchased at the brewery. But not mine. It was made by Stanley. So, it’s basically a thermos. Not the red and black plaid one like I carried with my lunch in elementary school. No, this is a 64-ounce, army green beast that will keep its contents cold for 24 hours, even longer if you put it in the fridge. The top has a fantastic seal. Therefore, the beer remains fresh and carbonated, for several days if necessary. But I never let it sit that long. When I was a kid, I would have been a hero if I had walked into elementary school with this monster. Especially if it had been full of beer. Everyone has a favorite place or two to take their growler. Oddly, mine is not a brewery or a brewpub. It’s a gourmet wine and beer store in Alexandria in…
By Timothy Long “If you’re lucky enough to be Irish, you’re lucky enough!” – Irish Proverb Are you Irish? If you answered no, you’re wrong. Fine, you’re not wrong. But there is a fact you need to face. You’re going to be Irish. A day is coming, a grand day. A day that will cause you to be Irish, whether you like it or not. Because on that day, everyone is Irish! It’s the most magical day of the year. On March 17th you’ll rise from bed and you’ll be Irish! Well, at least for one day anyway. It’s a beautiful thing. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself craving Irish beer and whiskey. It’s been known to happen. You may even eat potatoes, or corned beef and cabbage. This miracle of a day needs to be celebrated properly. First, you’ll need to pick a good Irish pub. There are plenty of them. Almost every town has one. The shamrock is everyone’s friend. Next, you’ll need to decide which Irish beer and Irish whiskey you’ll be drinking. Guinness is always a good start. I usually start with it. Then follow it with Smithwick’s. In the Irish language, Irish whiskey is referred to as uisce beatha, which means the “water of life.” I guarantee you just pronounced it wrong. Everyone does, even most of the Irish. Here is the phonetic spelling: ish-ca baa-ha. Many of you probably mispronounced Smithwick’s as well. And Irish whiskey is always spelled with an “e”. This was done to differentiate their whiskey from the Scots who spell it whisky. The Canadians and Japanese drop the “e” as well. Here in the states, we spell it whiskey, like the Irish do. The roots of Irish whiskey are quite fascinating. Irish whiskey was one of the earliest distilled…
By Timothy Long When you think of the Super Bowl, you naturally think of beer. Beer and Super Bowl go together like chips and dip, hotdogs and mustard, or wings and buffalo sauce. But why not bourbon? Why isn’t bourbon an integral part of this great American tradition? Bourbon is a national treasure. Yes, so is beer. But beer comes from the old country. Bourbon is part of our national heritage. It’s part of who we are. Bourbon is the only American spirit regulated by the U.S. government. According to The Federal Standards of Identity for Distilled Spirits, bourbon made for U.S. consumption must be: Produced in the U.S. and its Territories (Puerto Rico), as well as the District of Columbia. Made from a grain mixture that is at least 51% corn. Aged in new, charred oak containers. Distilled to no more than 160 (U.S.) proof. Entered into the container for aging at no more than 125-proof; and Bottled (like other whiskeys) at 80 proof or more. No other U.S. made spirit is so thoroughly regulated. Congress made bourbon purely American. So, why shouldn’t it be part of our Super Bowl tradition? It should be! It’s time to add a festive activity to the traditional Super Bowl Party. And don’t just put out a couple of bottles of bourbon. Make it fun! Many people have never tasted bourbon, or any whiskey for that matter. So, have a Super Bowl bourbon tasting. I can read your mind right now; people are going to get sloshed. No, not if you do it correctly. Tasting is not the same as drinking. You use small pours and take your time. This will help to reduce the chances of someone getting snockered. It’s not about doing shots. Below is a five-step whiskey tasting guide from worldwhiskeyday.com….
By Timothy Long Approaching any situation with an open mind is tantamount to success in life. Life will often remind you of this fact. I was reminded of it recently, during a trip to Mexico. We were vacationing in Cabo at the beginning of December. A fun family vacation, one of the many that my wife’s brother sets up. I love the place. It’s beautiful. The only drawback to the trip is that the flight is over five hours long. There was a time that you would be served a meal on such a flight, but not anymore. The cart came around only once. We got a drink and cookie, lucky us. Makes paying that extra $50 for the checked bag totally worth it. So, by the time we land in Cabo, wait for our luggage, wait for our rental car, and then drive to the resort, we are starved. Our villa isn’t ready yet, so we stow our luggage and head to one of the resorts restaurants for lunch. I decide to have a beer with lunch. I know, big shock. They have the usual suspects listed: Corona, Tecate, Dos Equis, Modelo, etc. When given this list, I usually go with Dos Equis, the Modelo Negro, or the Modelo Especial. All three are good beers. I then spot a beer on the list that I do not recognize. It’s called Cabotella. And it’s brewed by Baja Brewing Company in Cabo San Lucas, which is right down the road from us. I knew that there was a brewery in Cabo, but my hopes were not high. It’s a craft brewery in Mexico. How good could it be? The Cabotella is a blonde ale. A blonde ale in the land of light lagers. I’m highly skeptical. My wife then points it…
By Timothy Long It was 1995, a few days before Christmas. I was arriving at Pittsburgh International Airport, visiting my family for Christmas. As usual, my father was there to pick me up. Mom was home making Christmas cookies. A yearly job that none of us would ever dream of interrupting. In my unbiased opinion as her son, the woman truly made the best Christmas cookies in the world. When Dad picked me up, he always liked to stop for a drink on our way home. It had become a tradition. A little father and son time before arriving home and being swarmed by the family. I, of course, was always game. On this occasion, I did ask that, before we stopped for our yearly Christmas drink, we visit a local wine and beer store that was nearby. Dad replied that he and my brother had already picked up beer and wine for Christmas. The thought of this nestled into my gut like a lump of coal. My father did not drink beer, so he was no connoisseur. And I know what beer my brother would have purchased, Budweiser, the King of Beers. This had to be handled gently. I needed to dethrone the King of Beers with tact and poise. “Dad, I want to buy good beer.” OK, not very tactful. “What’s wrong with the beer we bought?” A typical Irish American steelworker father response. “Nothing. I just thought adding something different might be nice.” There’s the tact. “Son, I’m not sure we need any fancy beers.” The problem with the conversation so far, we had not even discussed the wine yet. I could picture a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco sitting on the downstairs bar. “Dad, it’ll just take a minute to stop.” After a while, he agreed. I…
View More