Canuck Pale Ale

Oh Great Lakes Brewing Company, I cannot resist your charms. Despite the fact that I cannot get the morose aftertaste of your "winter beer" out of my mouth months later, when I see a new one of your over sized bottles, I must put it in my cart.

Enter "Canuck Pale Ale" purchased during the Canada/US hockey showdown of the Olympics, it was the perfect choice to show my patriotism. I hoped it would be as delicious as Orange Peel Ale was but upon my first taste that dream was shattered.

This Pale Ale has an over spiced nature to it, nowhere near as glaring as bad as the Winter beer but it left a somewhat tacky aftertaste. Numerous helpings were less discordant but I finished the bottle knowing it would probably be my last.

This is truly the middle child of beers I've tried from the Great Lakes Brewing Company, nowhere near the worst but certainly not the best. If I was offered one in a social situation, I wouldn't turn it down but I'd probably nurse it.

Overall 5/10

It goes without saying that I still look forward to their next concoction.

--Brain

Holsten Maibock

It has been my experience that any beer with the word "bock" in the name is going to be a giant can of misery. I have tried many bock beers over the years and have never once found one I would like to drink again. Spying this one at the Ajax LCBO, I thought it would be an excellent subject for review. Holsten Brewery (a fully owned subsidiary of The Carlsberg Group) was founded in northern Germany in 1953. The actual brewery webpage is written completely in German, and as such could not be used as a source of information. However, I did find a webpage that had this to say about the brand:

Holsten is one of the Carlsberg Group's biggest brands.

Holsten was first developed and produced by the Holsten Brewery in Northern Germany in 1953. Since then it has expanded to many other markets, primarily in Europe, and today you can experience the great taste of Holsten Pilsener in many countries around the globe.

Where does the Holsten name come from?

Once upon a time a Germanic tribe called the "Holsten" lived in northern Germany in the region that is now called Holstein. According to the "Chronica Slavorum", written in the 12th century, the Holsten were described as a freedom-loving, bull-headed and very hospitable people. Perhaps the founders of the Holsten-Brauerei AG had these characteristics in mind when they christened their brewery in 1879.

Upon arriving at Brian's, I handed the can to him as Michelle asked "is that a maibock?" Apparently, the two of them are big fans of this brewing style and were looking forward to the experience. Brian stated that due to the usually high alcohol content of maibock in general (Holsten Maibock weighs in at 7% abv), they are perfect for getting a glow on before seeing a movie. We chilled the beer and poured it out. The brew was amber, clear and had no odour whatsoever. The flavour was pleasant with a slight alcohol burn. However, if the beer had been slightly colder, I doubt you would have been able to detect it. "It doesn't stab you in the mouth like other high-percentage beer," remarked Brian as Michelle simply said, "I'd drink it again."

Imperial Cerveza

My sister brought this one back for me from a recent trip to Costa Rica. She said that it was the beer she drank the majority of while she was there, and thought I would like it. Apparently, she grabbed six talls for me, and realized that she had no room in her suitcase for them and that they would not allow her to board the plane with them in her carry-on. Her boyfriend then offered to pack them in his suitcase. Unfortunately, the added weight of the six talls pushed his suitcase over the weight restriction and he ended up being charges a $50 surcharge for the added weight. Quite an expensive six pack as it turns out.

The label does not indicate much about this product other than it is beer and from Costa Rica. No abv value was given, or any kind of description as to what to expect from the contents. The beer poured very clear and was devoid of any kind of odour. It was also devoid of any kind of taste, but was cool and refreshing which as Brian stated, "[is] what you'd expect a tropical beer to be." Recommended if you are ever on an eco-trek through Costa Rica, and find the tropical heat is putting a thirst on you.

Drunken Days of Yore

A Night on Barrel Wash

This is yet another bad idea that turned into a horrible experience. Any story that involves homemade liquor and thirsty twenty-something men with a will to drink anything is never going to end well. In retrospect, this one is fairly amusing simply for the sheer ignorance of the participants - Phlegm, Mad Dog Johnny, Myself and an acquaintance named Marty. while you will undoubtedly laugh at our foolish antics, I hope this serves as a warning to any self-respecting boozer who is looking for a super-cheap drunk.

On a spring afternoon in my early twenties, I received a call from Phlegm, who's parents own a nursery north of Cobourg, Ontario. The nursery had contracts with many surrounding municipalities to provide flower arrangements for their downtown areas. Many of these flower arrangements were created in a half-barrel, within which the flower arrangements were planted. The nursery usually obtained the barrels from a distillery that had used them to age whiskey and other spirits. When Phlegm called, the delivery truck that had brought the barrels had just left.

"Dude, you'll never guess what I got brewing!"

"What?" I asked.

"The barrels for our flower arrangements were just delivered from the distillery and they just reek of booze. Are you up for some barrel wash?"

It was back in public school when I first heard of barrel wash (or "swish"). For those of you who don't know, barrel wash is a form of cheap homemade liquor that is made by filling a freshly used whiskey barrel with water, recorking it and lying it on its side in the sun. Every day, one rotates the barrel a quarter turn. Usually within two weeks or so, the alcohol that has been absorbed in the wood of the barrel leeches into the water, and you have a barrel of watered-down whiskey to drink. Being a opportunistic drunkard, Phlegm had apparently taken a whiskey barrel and started the process.

"In two weeks, we'll have some piss-up," he promised. I should have taken it as a warning.

Approximately two weeks later, Phlegm called to say the wash was finished and ready to drink. I rounded up Mad Dog Johnny and Marty and headed up to the nursery, which was situated in a valley in the middle of prime farmland. Within the valley was a small creek, which Phlegm's family had dammed up to create a pond. The pond then served as a scummy, stagnant frog sanctuary which could then be used in an emergency to water the greenhouses in the event the wells ran down. The valley area around this pond was what Phlegm referred to as "The Pit" and was a prime location for bonfires, keg parties and other drunken tomfoolery regularly undertaken in our irresponsible youth.

We arrived in the late afternoon and pitched tents in The Pit. Phlegm used his tractor to bring down the barrel of wash while we gathered wood for the fire. As is got dusk, the fire was set and the barrel was tapped. We poured out the liquid in a juice jug and filled our glasses. The finished product just tasted like whiskey and water. Not harsh at all. We continued drinking as the night wore on, until Mad Dog Johnny suddenly spit his drink into the grass.

"There's a chunk of something in this booze!" he exclaimed.

We filled a glass from the barrel and checked it with a flashlight. Even in our drunkenness we could see that there were definitely black chunks in the liquid. Thoroughly grossed out, we thought the party was over until one of us realized it was char from the inside of the barrel. Apparently, the years of soaking in harsh alcohol, slight drying after being emptied followed by the water Phlegm added caused some of the char to come loose from the inside of the barrel and start floating on the liquid's surface. Relieved, we continued to drink thinking a little charred wood would never hurt anyone.

After a while, the taste of the swill was getting tiresome. Having a drunken brainstorm, Phlegm went up to the house and came back with a can of peach concentrate. He poured some of the concentrate in the jug and mixed it with the hooch. It was kinda gross, but cut away the tiresome taste of the watery whiskey. We continued drinking around the fire until we were all in a very drunken state. At some point, Marty went to his tent to pass out, Johnny was crashed on the ground someplace and Phlegm and I were finishing a final drink. I recall falling backwards off the log I was sitting on, and being unable to sit back on it. I crawled to my tent, and after several minutes of drunkenly trying to open the fly, finally opened it and crawled inside.

I somehow managed to close the fly and get inside my sleeping bag. I lay there maybe 3 minutes before I suddenly got the urge to vomit. However, being in the dark of my tent and in a very inebriated state, I couldn't work the zipper to get out. I was unable to get out, and proceeded to throw up my last drink on the floor of my tent. My last conscious memory was trying to position myself as far from the mess as possible as I (in the words of Mike Tyson) "disappeared into Bolivia."

I awoke to a world of pain. My head ached and my stomach felt like it had been kicked by a mule. Wondering what had roused me from the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, I heard Mad Dog Johnny slapping on my tent.

"Hey," he asked. "Is that pond water safe to drink?"

I vaguely recalled the scum-covered swampy pond that was used as an emergency resevoir for the greenhouses. "I don't think so, man."

"GODDAMN IT!"

"What?" I asked.

"I already drank it." he replied.

I drifted off for a while longer until I felt well enough to wander up to the house to wash my face and get some water and a paper towel with some vinegar. I washed the floor of my tent with the vinegar and took my tent down. Marty and Johnny had taken their tent down, and Johnny was lying on the grass looking pretty grim.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Phlegm.

"He drank the pond water," I replied as everyone but Johnny broke into fits of laughter.

"FUCK OFF!" cursed Johnny, as Phlegm pondered the possible bacterial and parasitic infections one could suffer as a result from drinking from a stagnant frog pond.

As we loaded our sorry asses into my old Malibu for the ride home, Johnny climbed into the back seat and lay down. Marty and I decided that a greasy burger from Harvey's might help with the hangover. We asked Johnny if he would like anything, to which we heard only mumbled curses as replies. We finished eating and headed down the highway, all the while listening to Johnny mumbling and cursing to himself. In fact, I don't think he stopped cursing until I dropped him off.

"I am pissed off and in a vile mood," he stated as he got out. "I'm going to go lay down. I feel like shit. GODDAMN IT!!"

I don't believe Johnny got too sick from drinking the pond water, but it wouldn't be something I would want to risk. More telling is the fact he willingly chose a filthy home for frogs to drink from, rather than the remains of the barrel of wash he willingly guzzled the night before. Seeing how Johnny will willingly chug Cisco, there would seem to be some kind of moral lesson in that somewhere.

Aventinus Eisbock

On occasion, we review a product that is so utterly horrific that it literally defies description. Aventinus Eisbock is a prime example of this. It is brewed by Schneider and Sohn, who also make the very good Schneider Weiss which I am quite fond of. However, this one deserves an epic fail of the brewer's art.

While I cannot remember the specifics of the experience, the beer was very dark and gave of a hideous scent. The flavour was so terrible that I actually forgot to take notes on how bad it was. However, I did manage to write down the following reactions to the experience of actually imbibing this devil's brew:

"This smells really, really bad. I pray for my tastebuds." - Michelle

"Fucking terrible!" - Me

"Ahhhhh... I hate you!" - Brian

Brian literally took one sip, cursed me and grabbed all three glasses to dispose of them in the toilet. As you can see from the spillage, he wasted no time in doing so. What an utterly godawful example of German brewing.

Aventinus Eisbock - Final Score:
Michelle -1
Myself - 1
Brian - 0

BrewDog Punk IPA

On the heels of the Drink of the Month, we have another product from Scotland. However, unlike the fine whiskey bonnie Scotland is famous for, this beverage is the bottled equivalent of a '77 Sex Pistols concert - a chaotic bloody mess. Perhaps this is where the "Punk IPA" name was inspired from. Brewed by BrewDog in Fraserburgh, Scotland, this beer has an abv of 6%.

I originally noticed this one when picking up beers for New Years Eve review. As I had already picked up several products for review, I left this one for another day. Spotting it again at the Ajax LCBO, I grabbed it along with several bottles of weissen for a piss-up at Brian's. Looking over the bottle, the pseudo-punk label describes this "post moderm classic pale ale" as thus:

This is not a lowest common denominator beer.

This is an aggressive beer.

We don't care if you don't like it.

We do not merely aspire to the proclaimed heady heights of conformity through neutrality and blandness.

It is quite doubtful that you have the taste or sophistication to appreciate the depth, character and quality of this premium craft brewed beer.

You probably don't even care that this rebellious little beer contains no preservatives or additives and uses only the finest fresh natural ingrediants.

Just go back to drinking your mass marketed, bland, cheaply made watered down lager and close the door behind you.

BrewDog: Beer for Punks

BrewDog is about breaking rules, taking risks, upsetting trends and unsettling institutions but first and foremost, great tasting beer.

I have to say without doubt, that was the most pretentious description of a product I have ever read. This beer practically begs you to hate it before you even crack it open. At this point, Brian and I had extreme reservations of what was in store for us. In my experience, good products speak for themselves. By contrast, companies that proclaim their products as "too good for you" are generally trying to push sub-standard tripe on the snooty, know-nothing crowd.

We cracked it open and poured out the samples. Immediately, the room was permeated by the pungent scent of hops which in reality was not at all unexpected for an IPA. The beer was clear, sans sea monkeys and formed a nice head. Michelle raised her sample to her nose and exclaimed "Oh god!" at the scent coming off the brew. We tipped the glasses back and my palate was immediately attacked by the extreme bitter taste. The flavour reminded me of a decayed swamp, and the bitterness continued down the throat and the gnarly aftertaste seemed to hang around like a herpes infection. Michelle described the flavour "like sucking on a tree" before declaring she couldn't finish her sample. Brian also gave a thumbs down as he remarked it was like "beer flavoured Halls." Truly a vile and undrinkable product.

BrewDog Punk IPA Final Score:
Michelle - 4
Myself - 4
Brian - 3

Drunken Days of Yore

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Drink of the Month

Canadian winters bring with them a lot of weather I could personally do without. Snow, sleet, freezing rain and sub-zero temperatures colder than ice planet Hoth are some of the afflictions suffer living in the Great White North. As such, when forced to endure such weather, nothing warms the blood like our first Drink of the Month - a good strong glass of single-malt Scotch whiskey.

As I am sure many of you are aware, I am a big fan of single malt Scotch. Some of my personal favourites include Talisker, Aberlour, Laphroaig and Cragganmore, but you really can't go wrong with any of the high-end malts. I personally drink mine neat with a splash of water to bring out the flavour. It is the perfect accompaniment to a fine Cuban cigar in front of the fire on a cold winter night.

Happy New Year!!!

First of all, I'd like to wish you all a very happy and prosperous 2010! We have a whole new decade of drinking to jump into, and I am hoping you all make the best of it! My final bender of 2009 proved to be quite blog-worthy. Aside from drinkig copious amounts of Guinness and Cordon Negro, we sampled some truly horrific ale and introduced yet another unsuspecting drunkard to the horrors of streetwine!

Hop Nouveau 2009 Wet Hopped Ale is brewed by Trafalgar Brewing Company in Oakville, Ontario. The ale is the only one brewed in Ontario with hops that are picked the same day as the beer is brewed (hence the "wet hopped" moniker). Suspiciously, the brewery's website does not mention this beer which I suspect may be due to reasons that became readily apparent after cracking it open. The beer poured a clear golden without any sea monkeys, and was very foamy. Actually, "very foamy" may be a gross understatement. This beer was nearly all foam, and the scent of it was very overpowering. As I passed out samples to Michelle, Brian, Roxanne and Dave, Roxanne remarked it smelled like "foam bodywash". We each sampled it and I agreed with Roxanne's assessment that this beer was very soapy tasting, almost as though they didn't rinse the bottles out properly while cleaning them. Brian commented that it tasted something like ginger beer, while Michelle merely stated "this is bad." Dave was having a difficult time with his sample and actually proclaimed that "this is the worst beer I have ever tasted!" He then mixed it with some Heineken and remarked that only mildly improved the flavour.

Hop Nouveau 2009 Wet Hopped Ale - Final Score
Roxanne - 2/10
Brian - 3/10
Michelle - 2/10
Dave - 2/10
Myself - 2/10

Earlier in the evening when I was coming home from work, Brian messaged me and requested to bring some Cisco. While at first I laughed at the absurdity of such a request (especially from him), he explained that Roxanne's boyfriend Dave apparently wanted to try some. Having one bottle of Cisco Strawberry behind the bar for an occasion such as this, I happily complied. After the beer tasting, we headed down the basement and I presented Dave with this hideous bottled demon. Roxanne and Michelle (both of whom I suspect had a good lot of wine in them) stated that they were also willing to try it. Dave cracked open the bottle, ignored the noxious chemical odor and poured out some samples.

As you can see, he poured a mammoth portion for himself and passed out samples. Michelle and Roxanne took one taste of it, and both exclaimed that it was horrific. Despite the reaction from the women, Dave drank his down like a soldier and commented that the stuff was vile. Brian, always the gracious host, produced a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 Orange Jubilee and gave Dave a taste of it as well. Next thing I knew, Brain pulled out the pride of his collection, the almighty Thunderbird!

Now as regular readers of this blog know, my impression of the "taste" of T-Bird is much like the same feeling you get when you stick a 9 volt battery on your tongue. In fact, I think the whole experience of drinking this swill must be something like a mild version of getting tased. Despite my warnings, Dave insisted he wanted to try it. Brian poured out a shot and Dave knocked this back as well. Unfortunately, the pre-Thunderbird smile in the picture above quickly faded into the typical streetwine despair these chemical concoctions are famous for. You can almost feel the poor guy's despair in the picture below.

What a way to ring in the new decade. I tried to get Dave to go whole-hog and knock back a shot of Wild Irish Rose, but he had enough at this point. I can't say I blame him.

In other news, I have some new things planned for Liquor Pig in 2010. This will include reviews on bars in addition to the libations they sell, a "Drink of the Month" and drunken adventures from my liquor-soaked youth. Of course, reader feedback is encouraged and always welcome. Again, here's wishing you all a fantastic 2010 and beyond!