Introduction
Well, this COVID-19 thing has really come home. I’m not
talking about my daughter, recently kicked out of the college dorms and made to
move home—with all her stuff—and remain until October (though that did happen).
I’m talking about California’s Governor, Gavin Newsom, announcing that pubs statewide should close. I’m feeling pretty bitter but won’t fault Newsom for
it. (I kind of owe him one … I once ate his breakfast. For details see the Appendix.)
I’d already planned a pub night with my pals for this
Friday. We had all agreed that alcohol-based hand sanitizers are no longer enough,
and we need to be disinfecting from the inside out. A dozen emails later we’d finalized
our plan. Now that’s off.
I’m already feeling nostalgic for pubs, and for sharing the
beer drinking experience digitally via Beck’sts. (What?! You haven’t heard of
Beck’sting? You’re already living
under a rock even before the COVID-19 shelter-in-place orders come down! Click
here to learn all about the fast-growing global phenomenon that is Beck’sting.)
To get my readers through these tough times, I’m posting
here some more or less cheerful Beck’sts. As before, I’ve grouped most of these
thematically. Since a Beck’st isn’t just a photo, but a photo with a caption
and/or commentary, I’ve included that too, and the initials of the Beck’ster.
Where you see one letter only (e.g., “T—”) that’s generally somebody’s spouse.
Apocalypse IPA
DA: This is a 10 Barrel Apocalypse IPA.
DA (continued): I rather liked it. It drinks like a beer
that has been doubly or triple-y hopped—and dry-hopped, no less, or at least
dry-humped—with a very aggressive malting and/or molting. It’s a big, cheeky,
voluptuous, dare I say buxom IPA. But it’s brassy without being brazen—not the
kind of beer that you’d meet in a bar (where else?) that would dare you to
punch it in the stomach as hard as you could; it’s more like the kind of beer
that would let you finish whining and then would let out a little derisive
snort, maybe a dismissive whuff. It’s got tones of melanin, surely due to the
natural oxidation of the amino acid tyrosine endemic to the piney resins of
barley ester that find their way, through the very air we breathe, right into
the soul of this handcrafted ale. It’s also got arias of woodwind from all the
up-and-down hopping like you get in a long line for the bathroom at a mobbed
kegger. Subtle hints of sell-out and corporate synergy threaten to spoil the
smooth, big-drinking cred of this beer, but it walks the line nicely, giving my
drinking experience a ragged little blade of excitement.
Better
Dayz Beck’st
JL: Family ski trip to Killington, Vermont. Snow is good. Double
IPAs are better.
DA: NOOICE! Were you skiing downhill or cross-country? I think a
Double IPA is great for after downhill, but after XC you probably need a really
hydrating beer like a lager!
Unorthodox Beck’st
DW: Deschutes Pacific Wonderland Lager in a Hydroflask 22oz.
cup:
DW (continued): I wanted to see if the insulating qualities
of this cup would enhance or degrade the experience of drinking this nice beer.
Verdict: I’ll stick with the regular pint glass with some random logo on it.
This bex’t is subsequent to riding the McKenzie Pass earlier in the day ... a
top five road ride for me in terms of scenic beauty and experience. They don’t
open the road up for cars until mid June, so it is a cycling wonderland right
now.
DA: Unorthodox vessels? Insulated beer mugs with a new-age-y
logo? I agree, that’s not the best way to enjoy a beer. You don’t mix alcohol
paraphernalia with normal stuff, IMHO ... you just don’t. Non-beer-specific vessels
for beer drinking is a bit weird, like a teddy bear with nipples or something. Even
those standard foam rubber beer can caddies never made sense to me. I mean, why
would a beer ever sit around long enough to become warm? My MO has always been
fridge-to-belly within 5 minutes, tops.
Post-workout
Beck’sts
JL: W— left this morning for another six day trip, and then they
canceled school tomorrow because it is currently -4 degrees F and only going to get colder
and windier (Polar Vortex rocks!). So there was only one thing to do: ride the trainer in the garage for
an hour and then drink a nice stout beer!
JL (continued): Notice the 9 year old reading (and pouting) in the
background! (Pouting because I said no to a sleepover tonight.)
DA: I’ve been kind of getting back into weak, pussy lagers,
particularly Stella (a beer for which I formerly had no use). Kind of
refreshing and “won’t slow me down,” as they say. I split one with Freya this
evening after my (outdoor) bike ride.
DA (continued): By “pussy” above I mean the word that rhymes with “wussy”
(and means pretty much the same thing). If you thought I meant “pussy” to rhyme
with “fussy,” meaning “puss-laden,” I can’t blame you, heteronyms being what
they are. Perhaps the context helped here … I’ll concede lagers can be a bit
boring, but puss is not the answer.
Dark days
Beck’sts
DA: I wasn’t drinking much this week (last night’s Stella doesn’t
count—Freya drank most of it) because I was going to race on Sunday. But I broke my derailleur hanger last
Sunday, and though I got right on it and ordered a replacement on Monday, it
didn’t arrive in time. I’m kind of bummed because I actually have pretty decent
form right now, which I’ve worked hard for, blah blah blah.
The silver lining is that there’s really nothing more for me to do
now but drink! I never need to be fit again! E— is even talking about walking
over to Fieldwork (despite the fact it’s raining). Anyway,
dark times like these call for strong beer, so notwithstanding all the chatter
about IPAs being so January, I’m enjoying (actually, it’s all gone now
in the span of this typing) the Lagunitas Maximus IPA featured above.
PCS: Dana!
These truly are the dark days of biking AND beer drinking. Although, of all the
people I know, you are the one person who I knew could rebound from such
adversity. The rest of us would be considering buying a new bike and a case of
the Banquet.
But, you are fixing the bike problem AND supporting the local brewpub. Good on
you! Tonight, I was so damn lazy that I drank wine instead of beer because all
my beer in the house is warm...talk about dark days. I think it’s over Boyz. It
was nice knowing you all.
BA: Dana, how on earth did you break your derailleur hanger? I
think you’re riding too aggressively. You might get hurt. On the plus side, at
least you can replace it. Back in the old days you’d just be hosed. I’m glad
you enjoyed your beverage. By the way, I thought you said you ride better when
you’re drunk? Or maybe that was driving. Hmm...
Expat
Beck’st
PCS: We came to Spain for spring break because S— has some
business here next week. We got here at 7:30 am today and have been
wandering around, snoozing on the beach, and doing some day-drinking! I don’t
even know what kind of beer this is … it’s great and I’ve decided this is my
kind of lifestyle.
DA: Dang, Spain really takes the stemware to
new heights! Was H— content during this lazy afternoon?
PCS: Sure, he was enjoying the coke next to my beer. We invented a
new game called “Does this person smoke?” Which, for a pulmonologist, is not a
hard game but was entertaining nonetheless!
JL: Oh yes, European café culture! It’s pretty great. If there was
one thing I could import from Lisbon to the United States it would be the fact
that they put a café/bar in every public park. So parents take their kids to
the park to play and then they just sit in the café drinking coffee and/or beer
and/or wine. But the prevalence of smoking was pretty crazy. So many smokers
and so many discarded cigarette packs on the sidewalks.
DW: Love this picture...not much to say because everything is
answered in the image. Your expression tells most of the story. The only word
that comes to mind is GLORIOUS! Feliz vacacions, bebe y disfruta!
Palliative
Beck’st
So, this isn’t a very good beer (not even worth pouring into a
bottle) but I really needed a beer. (Full disclosure: so dire was my situation,
I also had half of E—’s beer.)
Kind of a rough day. First, during the team mountain bike ride I
decided to pop a wheelie and went over backwards. Normally this isn’t a problem
because you just drop your feet and end up running behind your bike. But due to
mud in my cleat or something, I couldn’t get my foot out. So I went all the way
over backwards and landed on my back, my butt, and my phone.
The phone and my lower back damaged each other. In testing the scuffed edge of
my phone I actually cut my finger slightly. Man, I really landed hard.
Obviously it was pretty embarrassing too, but mainly I’m just sore. My back, my
butt, and my elbow. Even my neck. I might have whiplash. Serious need for beer
in light of these facts (right Dr. S?).
Then we got home and Alexa got some bad news via email. Vassar,
after admitting Alexa for the class of 2023, sent us their financial aid letter,
in which they announced that they’re prepared to give us (drum roll please) …
[scroll down for the amount].
NOTHING.
That’s right, no aid whatsoever.
The government, however, under the dutiful guidance of The Donald, is prepared
to provide $3,500 per year in low-interest student loans. That will really help
with the cost of this school, which is (drum roll please) … [scroll down for
amount].
$73,000 a
year!
So, needless to say, A— won’t be attending Vassar. I recommended
she file a financial aid appeal which should contain the phrase “obviously
whacked out on coke and smack.” Poor thing … she’s really mourning. I’m trying
to buck her up, but it’s not easy when I’m feeling all lugubrious myself over
having only this Pacifico to drink.
JL: Ouch! Ouch
squared!! And one more ouch if your daughter refuses to do the math! The
wheelie accident I can definitely relate to. I popped a wheelie on my cross
bike a couple years ago in our cul de sac to impress my kid (and to imitate
Peter Sagan) and forgot that I was clipped in… went right over and landed on my
hip and back so quickly that I didn’t have time to break my fall (which is
probably for the best — could have broken a wrist!). Took weeks for the bruise
(and the pain) to go away. Ego is still bruised. Needless to say, kid was not
impressed… So that sucks. Adding to your pain is the busted phone, which is
just salt in the wound. Sorry dude. I’m not a doctor (wait! Yes I am! [a Ph.D.]),
but I would recommend lots of Advil during the day and as much beer as you can
get away with without worrying the family at night.
DW: What a complete bummer to go off the back of the bike. I’m so
glad you did not smack the back of your head on the ground. Even if you had a
helmet on, that is no bueno for what lies in between. I gave up doing wheelies just
for that reason a long time ago. Alas, now I always hold the railing when going
downstairs. Why are ultra-white New Balance sneakers with velcro suddenly
appealing?! I digress...
Beck’st +
Dairy
BA: Last night, after dinner, I learned that this was a thing:
BA (continued): Who knew? I’ve got to say, I was a little
skeptical at first but discovered that it was really good! (That’s just vanilla
ice cream under that Milk Stout Nitro, in case it wasn’t obvious.) Also, while
enjoying this treat in Estes Park, at altitude, I noticed that they fill the
ice cream containers until they’re overflowing before they put the lid on! Actually,
I was told (and I have no reason to disbelieve) that the air bubbles in the ice
cream expand in the relative vacuum of altitude here causing the ice cream to
expand, lifting the lid right off the carton. Amazing. (I have also witnessed
chip bags exploding on Trail Ridge Road as
they get tauter and tauter the higher you go, due to the reduction of air
pressure protecting them from the vacuum of space. If you wish to experience
this mini science lesson for yourself, it helps to have the bags on the
dashboard of the car, in the hot sun, to increase the pressure.)
JL: Funny you
should post that photo after my lamenting about no longer eating ice-cream,
because that very stout (from Left Hand) has been one of my go-to beers of
late. I’ve been moving away from IPAs and trying more stouts lately, and that
Left Hand nitro is really, really good. Maybe if I lose a few pounds I’ll reward myself with one of those
stout beer floats!
PCS: Ice cream
and beer! Epic, truly epic. though I’ve never had it personally. The thought of
a milkshake with some whiskey in it also sounds interesting to me...
Airport
Beck’st
JL: Traveling to Denver via Newark. They have iPads everywhere in
the waiting area. I ordered this beer more out of curiosity than anything else
while my kids play video games. Like 30 seconds after swiping my CC, this
bartender showed up with the beer. Weird. But this beer is welcome anytime! I
won’t tell you how much I paid for it...
DA: I use that airport from time to time when I travel on bidness.
The iPads are pretty silly, especially when the restaurant app suggests a 15%,
18%, or 20% tip. Even when I’m spending my employer’s money, I bristle at
tipping an iPad app. Sure, somebody comes over and plops a plate down in front
of me, but that’s hardly service. Nobody even checks on me (thus depriving me
of the chance to say, “The games are boring, the user interface insipid, the
color palette uninspiring, and the screen grubby”).
I know what you paid for that beer. I bought one last time, even
though I shudder to waste money, even my employer’s, but I was emboldened
because my boss was next to me, his boss next to him, and they both bought
expensive drinks (my boss’s the size of a ten-gallon hat and his boss’s some
froufrou cocktail). My beer was small and disappointing. (I know, I know … “that’s
what she said.”)
How’d you like the Lagunitas IPA? I wish I had one right now…
Appendix: how I ate
Gavin Newsom’s $1,000 breakfast
I was at a fundraiser back in 2004 in San Francisco. For
$1,000, I didn’t even get a table in the same room as the guest of honor. I was pretty pissed. On top of that,
the breakfast was pretty bad: rubbery pancakes, MSG-y sausage, OJ from
concentrate, etc. Right after I finished eating, but before the event began, a
friend happened by and said, “Hey, come to the main ballroom, there’s room at a
better table!” He himself wasn’t at said table, but there was indeed an empty
seat. It was like ten feet from the stage. Right after I sat down I was served
breakfast again, bringing my unit cost down to $500. NOOICE!
As the table filled in I realized I was with some pretty
high-caliber people … impeccable suits, beautiful attachés, etc. Someone said,
“Is Gavin coming or not?” Newsom was the San Francisco mayor at that time, and
I suddenly realized to my horror I was sitting in his seat. How do you explain
that to the Mayor? “Uh, sorry dude. Hey, I didn’t touch the fruit salad…”
Suddenly Newsom appeared at the edge of the room with his
entourage, briskly walking along waving to everyone. To my utter relief, he
couldn’t stay, and literally just made an appearance on his way to departing
through the other exit. Nobody ever questioned my spot at the table. I finished
“my” breakfast and (somewhat) enjoyed the event.
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