Our Tastes-- Yard's Ales of the Revolution

Well beer did make it back from Andy Mc's initial trip to DE. And in return I got Thomas Jefferson's Tavern Ale, the spruce and porter were light in supply (wife/girlfriend porter-mouth, how convenient, I'm just throwing that out there like a fly-fisherman, ya know). Look all I can say is T.J. liked it light in color at least on this replication of his 8%abv golden ale. Funny thing about goldens (beers) for me, they always smell, even when fresh/green as past due or slightly skunk. Head poured thick whiteness;) It's wheat, maize, honey based which is true to source, but I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the rye availability at the time. May have been readily brewable, but since it sticks so much if not done right nowadays, I find it hard to believe they used it much back then (though cast-iron played a big part then?). Taste is a standard pilsen bitterness with not much else coming forward. Would I take a growler of this over Ben's Spruce or GW's porter, guess we'll never know, (Tootsie pop).

Our Tastes-- Side Project #22 Moonray

Moonray, labeled as a chocolate orange weizenbock and a pick up by Junk and donated to the cause is an oddity at best. I didn't even realize the name of the beer was hidden in the river! All I can say is Butch and Spike know how to spin a recipe for profit and I'm taking note. Pours an extremely particulate heavy orange/brown. Slight tan head dissipates quickly given the 8.43%abv (that's funny, btw) to yield a nose of light orange and cereal. Taste is more citrus throughout than the chocolate sprinkle on the back of the palate towards the end of the swallow. EtOH is noticeable on the whiff but creeps up on you as the bomber loses volume. I'd have it again, but not my favorite Side Project to date .

"I'm on my way"

Minus a few snafus trying to get the CO2 correct across two splitters, the jockey box worked liked a dream, and draught homebrew was enjoyed by all. Comments varied from "Awesome," and "Well Done," to "I didn't want to spit any of them out," and "A magical dream that inspires the bones to dance out of the skin and onto the ethereal plane." Okay? I'll take that as good, sooo Mission complete! Oh yeah, that whole rehearsal dinner and wedding thinga-ma-jiggy went off without a hitch too. Yea! The next day we packed up, and said sayonara to "The City That Never Sleeps." I delivered the Mrs. and Yard Dog Jr. to the airport. Then dropped Mom and Boot-Leg Chuck off at their place, and headed out on the long and winding road. Well, not before I made a few stops along the way of course. First up, DFH. Not the brewpub or brewery, just the local store to stock up. I've been there, done that, and bought a t-shirt (along with many other beers and bits of apparel). So I saved a return visit to SamLand for another time. No, next on tap was Duck Rabbit Brewery, in Farmville, NC. A bit of a drive off the beaten path of I-95, I inadvertently got turned around, and arrived at their doors 30 minutes after they had closed. But, the kind staff reopened their doors just enough to sell me a six-pack of their barleywine, and wish me on my way. Though, I wish I could have stayed and tried a few. Looked like a nice quiet, relaxful place to enjoy a few dark beers.

Since that was a short stop, and I was already out there, why not visit Mother Earth Brewing, in Kinston, NC. I sashayed into the sleepy southern town, and took a front row parking spot along the demure downtown streets. I walked in, and right away was taken back. Were those 70's style bubble chairs in the corner? I fully expected Dr. Evil to swivel around and welcome me to his lair. And the mood lighting on the bar? It seemed more reminiscent of the "Laugh-In" set than a tasting room. Sooo,"Sock it to me," I guessed, and sat down to see what they served up. The Dunkel (aka Dark Cloud) looked mighty tasty, and was I right. I sipped up the malty goodness, as I continued to visually take in the unique decorum of the tap room, when, as luck would have it, one of the owners took a stool next to me. He graciously accommodated me and all my questions about starting a brewery, and even invited me to join him and the group of runners that met at the taproom every week, for a jogging jaunt around the city. Had I dressed and hydrated more appropriately, I would have joined in, but I needed to be moving on. I purchased their Tripel to sample at home, and hit the road. It was getting late, so if I were to visit anymore breweries, I had better pick one that was close by. Carolina Brewery in Chapel Hill, NC fit the bill. I cruised through the streets of the college town, and felt reminded of times long ago. The bustle of undergrads imparted in me a youthful energy, but I was quickly reminded of my aged approach when I entered the brewpub and all its packed enthusiasm. I searched through the crowd for a place to sit, and spotted one free stool over by the servers' station. Short on options, I bellied up and ordered a flight. I refueled on one of their burgers, while I analyzed their handcrafted quaffs, and as soon as the final morsel was washed down with the last sip, I paid my tab, and hightailed it back to the comfort of middle-age-ness. It was time to head home. In the solitude of the truck, I was able to reflect on the journey. What a fun trip it had been. And if starting a brewery was a in the cards, then what a long trip was to come. With miles to go before I slept, the hum of the tires provided a perfect backdrop of white noise. So I turned the radio up, channeled my inner Motley Crue, and sang the rest of the way back, "I'm on my way. Home sweet home."

Checkpoint Foxtrot: NYC

On the top deck of the Verrazanno Bridge, we looked across the Upper Bay. There was Lady Liberty, cast in her signature bluish-green hue, next to the Manhattan skyline. In front of us was the massive sprawl called Brooklyn. We jockeyed through traffic with the greatest of tension, and after a few erratic drivers, and fearless pedestrians (Hey, I'm walkin' here! I'm walkin' here), we arrived safely at our destination. We fastidiously stored the kegs and jockeybox for the rehearsal dinner, and set out on a celebratory meal. We walked through the streets of Brooklyn with a native like swagger, and headed down into the subway system. The Q train blew past us like a yellow blur, and squealed to a stop. We boarded as if we belonged, and rode the click-clacking rails over the East River and into Manhattan. Two stops and a transfer later we arose from the undercarriage of the streets of New York to the heart of it all. With the Flatiron Building to our left and Madison Square Park to our right, we stared directly into, the Lego store! (Oh wait, a little bit to the right) Eataly! Where their rooftop brewpub, "Birreria" and its cask ales awaited us. We entered the 5th Avenue doorway, and right away, the sights and aromas bustled with the feel of an Italian marketplace. Mangia and Bevi was all I could think as we passed the espresso and gelato bars, and glided through the pasta and produce section to a back corner elevator that took us up to the rooftop. The space was cool and open, with the city's warm and welcoming night lights overhead. Wooden casks lined up behind the bar, and offered up "Gaia" a Saison, "Sofia" a Witbier with peppercorns and coriander, and "Gina" an American Pale with thyme. We tasted them all. On their own, each had a unique flavor, but all had less carbonation than the commercial counterparts that I've grown to expect. The Gina had a forward flavor of thyme that took over the beer, but when the "Piatto Misto," (a collection of housemade sausages and other pork delights) came to the table, well, all bets were off. The body of the beer, and thyme flavor cut through the pork like a scalding hot knife through room temperature lard, and after a few bites of the platter, I reflexively ordered another, and then another. Amazing flavor combinations! Soon we were all satiated on sausage and suds, and headed back for some much needed rest. Even with our trek taking us over 1,000 miles, with various stops along the way, we still needed to prepare and serve our goods for the rehearsal dinner. Not to mention, trek the  1,000 miles back home afterwards. So, good night for now.

Checkpoint Delta: The Devil's Backbone

 Check Point Charlie was a quick stop to rest weary eyes in Winston-Salem, NC. We picked-up a sample in the morning at zee Cafe Adler (ie Foothills Brewing), and unlike the harrowing accounts of it's Cold War counterpart, we cruised through, unabated, and headed ENE to the most anticipated checkpoint on our trek, Devils Backbone. This place won the GABF 2012 Small Brew Pub of the Year, 2013 Small Brewing Company of the Year, and 2014 Midsize Brewing Company of the Year. A resume capable of putting the fear or hope of Dionysus (Beer God) into any aspiring brewer. The route required us to diverge off the traveled path to reach Roseland, VA, location of Devil's Backbone base camp. As we ventured on through the country, the road narrowed and curved. Soon we could only see as far the next turn, as the trees and road intertwinded with the landscape into the bowels of the beast. Then as the sunlight reduced to a glint through the leaves, and our expectations heightened to a brilliance, we reached a glen in the woods. There in the clearing was Devils Backbone Brewing Company. It was magnificent. The base camp location gave 360 degree views of the majestic masterpiece of the mountains. A multitude of hunting trophies welcomed us as we eased into our bar stools with a Vienna Lager and a Schwartzbier. With one sip I stared back amazed into the brew, and wondered, "Where have you been all my legal adult life?" Both had amazing up front flavor with the distinct crisp lager finish. Aaron, one of the brewers chatted with us, and encouraged us on our mission, as we sipped on a Tripel, and Pilot Brau (Enjoyed the balance of the Tripel, and the unique flavor of the New Zealand hop varietal in the Brau). This place had it all, great beer (especially technically difficult lagers), gorgeous location, cozy lodge feel, did I mention great beer. Once we cleared our heads, we amassed our samples, saluted the brewers on their marvelous work, and reluctantly left our posts at the end of the bar. Unbeknownst when we may ever return to this place, we decided to make the best of our location, and performed a slight course adjustment. The mission's route was redirected to include a portion of the Blue Ridge parkway just on top of the ridge that overlooked the valley. Once we reached the top, we were pleased with our choice. The straw yellow hues of the leaves were highlighted by the golden rays of the setting sun. A beautiful sight to behold that would give any Beligian Wit drinker, or Red-blooded American goose bumps of glee. Filled with joy we coasted down from the mountaintop into Checkpoint Echo: Blue Mountain Brewery and Hop Farm. With time bearing down on us we were forced to make it a quick stop, which was fine, since the rhizomes weren't as big as I expected (more like a serene hop garden of Cascades and Centennials). There was this cool craft brew map on the wall.

After a quick taster flight, we were off, and once we merged back onto the main thoroughfare of the Northeast I-95 corridor we knew we were ever so close to our ultimate destination.