I am occasionally reminded that Seattle beer is vastly inferior to beer in the rest of the civilized world. My second-to-last reminder was at the beer-making course, when complex and orgasmic Belgian deliciousness was referred to as “yeast funk.” The most recent was the prolonged Bacchanal of the last week.
There’s a lot of haze surrounding my trip to (an hour south of) Chicago. I can confirm the following details: mini Nilla Wafers are not the same recipe as regular Nilla Wafers; I have gained several pounds; yogurt is fuel for evil; and, that was not my camera (you fuckin’ n00bs). I am stubbornly refusing to look at my bank statements, but I know I spent at least $300 on Unhealthy and No-Good. I also now know that, while Southwest Air will permit an unlimited quantity of Jesus Juice in your carryon, beer and booze are limited to 5 liters. I suspect I was more awesome that usual, but I think a few butthurt, shit-talked boys might be inclined to disagree.
Teddy and I made the frostings ourselves :) The best thing about this cake is that it strikes me as something invented by a drunk person.
The drunk began with Mai Tais in some excellent and entirely racist ceramic cups. Then there was beer (maybe?), sleep, beer (probably), and Beer Geeks (most definitely). I was drinking, I was shit-talking. I was up in windows and Facebooking about my faaaaaaaaaaaavorite ex-boyfriend. I was on top of the car, and the bouncer was definitely getting concerned. I met some cool people, and I made some enemies; I am still not entirely sure which was which.
But, Beer Geeks! It was so divey and spooky! They have Hoosier trivia! And the beer was le *sigh.*I met Crème Brulee stout there, and took it home like the beer slut I am.
4 years of your Dark Lord, bitches: BOW DOWN.
The crown jewel of August 2011 in Lake County, Indiana was surely a Dark Lord vertical tasting hosted by my bunnies Mel and Teddy. It was a big cancer-whuppin’ celebration! I admit that I didn’t take the best (read: any) tasting notes, but I remember a bit of it: one tasted like cherry cola, one tasted like molasses cookies and coffee, the thick one was not nearly so thick as I remembered, and the most recent was not a rough as it was given credit for. It was no small thing for Teddy to share his long-sequestered bounty with the drunk and undeserving, and it was additionally no small task for him to perpetually keep my other hand full of some additional awesomeness.
Sweet, delicious motor oil...
My Teddy, you have excellent taste! I can always count on you <3
