Darktober 3: Lucky 7 Porter

~ LobaBlanca

Brewer: Evolution Craft Brewing Company
Location: Salisbury, Maryland
Type: American Porter
ABV: 5.7%

Welcome to where we finally go off-road from the path of recognized and reliable flavors, denizens. Traveling slightly downwind from Delaware’s Dogfish Head, we find ourselves on the outskirts of Ocean City, in Salisbury, Maryland.

Ah, Salisbury. If only that scholarship had come through, I could have been a minion of Sammy Sea Gull rather than Testudo. Looking back, though, I realize that my life would be a lot less…Loba had I not ended up at UMCP, so I’m not put off by the way things played out at all.

What is off-putting (oh, the glorious segue!) is Evolution’s Lucky 7 Porter, today’s Darktober candidate. Prior to this beer, I’d only ever tried one other Evolution brew: their Primal Pale Ale. I received it as a birthday present, primarily because it has a howling wolf on its label (wonder why that would appeal to me?). I knew I couldn’t be an objective judge of this beer, however, because of my intrinsic aversion to pale ales. I also knew that I couldn’t judge the entire Evolution line based on this one beer, which is why I was willing to give Lucky 7 a proper go.

Nothing groundbreaking about the deep, rich color, although I was a little surprised by the immense fizzy head of bubbles that grew atop the darkness but quickly dissipated.

I know I haven’t mentioned the quality of the nose yet in my reviews. I hate using terms like that because it makes it sound like I actually know what I’m talking about. I don’t, denizens. I’m just really good at pretending. However, one of the main reasons that I like to drink my beers in a glass rather than from the bottle is because I do enjoy getting that double-whammy of sensory stimulation from being able to smell what I’m drinking.

The reason I’m finally mentioning the nose this time is because…it’s actually one of the first down notes of this beer. I’m sure that it’s something unique to my wonky palate (writes she who once described a sparkling wine as “tasting a bit like French fries”) but this beer smells unhappily like a bar of soap.

Once I forced myself beyond the unappetizing smell and took my first sip, my opinion of the beer sadly did not improve. Starting with a weak, watery mouth feel, this beer shifts to a mulchy m

Darktober 2: Indian Brown Ale

~ lobablanca

Brewer: Dogfish Head
Location: Milton, Delaware
Type: American Brown Ale
ABV: 7.2%

Continuing to ease into Darktober through happy, familiar beers, I’ve decided to pay a little tribute to the first microbrewery in which I fell in love: Delaware’s own Dogfish Head.

I wasn’t a true beer believer for a very long time, sticking mostly to the harder liquors for my quest for inebriated satisfaction. However, as I began to realize that, yes, Virginia, there was more to beer than bland offerings from mainstream American companies hell-bent on world domination through mediocre, barely flavorful brews, I began to better appreciate the world of craft beer to which I had been previously denying myself.

One of the first craft breweries to which I completely gave myself was Dogfish Head. Because of the proximity of the brewery to where I live plus the fact that one of their brewpubs popped up within reasonable driving distance…well, it just made sense to give them a proper go.

Now, I’ve heard rumor that some people have described Dogfish Head beers as “Best. Beers. EVAR.” I wouldn’t go that far, and I think that the people who do go there might be limiting themselves in craft beer experiences. However, I will say that if you are looking for one solid, reliable brewery to which you can pledge your alcoholic fealty? Dogfish Head would not be a bad choice.

Their Indian Brown Ale is actually quite an interesting follow-up to my first featured beer. Whereas Port City has only been in the beer brewing business for almost two years, Dogfish Head has been working on their craft since 1995. It shows, from their more unique offerings right down to their everyday reliables…like this one.

Deep, somber darkness topped by a thick-yet-quick-to-dissipate pillow of foam, this beer is what I suspect Port City Porter dreams of becoming. Eloquent flavoring and a ridiculously creamy mouth feel, with full frontal coffee haunted by hints of chicory and mocha. If you’re very patient, you’ll even catch the flutter of brown sugar across your palate as you move your way through this delightful beer.

Drinking this brew makes me realize how muted and subdued and…safe Port City’s porter is, and how far they have to come to become a bonafide Big Dog in the craft brew business. Not to say that I don’t still think that Port City’s dark offering is amazing, because it is. However, I think I may have forgotten how absolutely captivating Dogfish Head’s Indian Brown Ale is. Such a reliable everyday beer and a true delight to drink.

Dogfish actually offers quite a few amazing beers. The downfall of the company, however, comes with the fact that their more unique offerings are prohibitively priced. For example, I adore their World Wide Stout, which, at 18-percent ABV, is this stunning experiment in packing as much alcohol and flavor and sensory overload as possible into one beer. I’ve had it both from the bottle and on tap, and both experiences carry with them ripples of indescribable amazing (only because I don’t have to describe them for this review).

The down side is the fact that one bottle of World Wide Stout can go as high as $10 in some areas. It’s shockingly even more expensive on tap. And this is the modus operandi for several of Dogfish Head’s more daring brews, which means that the willingness to be daring that gives them their edge over other craft breweries is greatly diminished by the fact that so many of their brews are priced outside of normal beer-buying parameters. A shame, really. Prices that high are definitely a detractor from what is a producer of truly high note beers.

That being said, Indian Brown Ale is reasonably priced and consistently flavorful. I can’t say that Dogfish Head is still my number one craft brewery, but it still holds a solid top place in my heart, thanks in part to the continued reliability of steadfasts like this dark beauty.

Darktober 1: Port City Porter

~ LobaBlanca


Brewer: Port City Brewing
Location: Alexandria, Virginia
Type: American Porter
ABV: 7.5%

Let’s hear it for the home team!

I decided to kick off Darktober with a local theme (I’m very lucky to live in the epicenter of some amazing craft beer action), and by giving the first spot to a brew that has been the stand-out new discovery for me this past year.

Port City Brewing Company is relatively young, having only started distributing its beers in 2011. I discovered a couple of their offerings in a cooler at a little sandwich shop in Old Town Alexandria, mere miles from where their brewery is located. The owner seemed very enthusiastic when she saw that I’d selected a bottle of Port City Porter to go with my roast beef sandwich and exclaimed that it was the best porter she’d ever had.

Based on the relative youth of the brewery, I took this as her simply being a good salesperson. I’m happy to admit that I was mostly wrong in this assumption.

While not “the best” I’ve ever had, this is a surprisingly delicious, robust porter. It pours a beautiful dark espresso color with a soft tawny head. The flavors are decisive yet smooth: nutty, roasty, chocolatey, all married together with notes of earthiness and something slightly astringent on the switchbacks. It coats your mouth well but never becomes cloying, and maintains the delightful effervescence that I love about a porter. To me, it’s the effervescence that keeps porters from turning into a heavy, heady “meal” of a beer like stouts can often become. Also, at 7.5-percent ABV, you’re left with a pleasantly buzzy warmth flowing through your veins at the end of this pint.

I’ve yet to experience this porter on tap, but I can only imagine it’s even more wonderful than it is in bottle form. This is definitely a solid, reliable “go-to” beer that’s always nice to have on hand, whether it’s accompanying a tasty roast beef on French bread or you’re craving some liquid relaxation to accompany movie night on the couch.

Because Port City Brewing is still relatively young and relatively small, their distribution range is limited. According to their Web site, you can only find their beers in Maryland, Virginia, D.C., and North Carolina, although I have heard some people mention that they’ve seen it appearing in stores in Philadelphia. I wish them continued success, because if the rest of their beers are as amazing as their porter, they are producing some spectacular brews.

Darkness Is Falling…

~ LobaBlanca

Somehow the summer has slipped from my grasp. Shadows spread more quickly each evening. Leaves scrape their crisp crunchy husks across the sidewalks, dragged by ever-cooling autumnal winds.

The Darkness is coming, denizens.

Fall is always a querulous time of year for me. I love the turning of the trees and the crispness of a beautiful, sunny October morning. However, I detest the encroachment of darkness and chill upon my evenings. Also, fall is the liaison between my favorite season and the season I abhor.

I decided, therefore, that something needed to be done to help ease me into the doldrums of winter. Plus, I’m being pulled in about a million different directions at the moment and it’s really starting to wear me down. What better way to alleviate some of the stress than to decide to take on one more project?

Therefore, I’m officially announcing that tomorrow will mark the beginning of Darktober. (Seems that I like making a special event out of this particular month of the year, eh?)

Seems that I have been quite the busy little beer collector of late. After visiting two different stores that had amazing and reasonably priced beer selections (two things that are incredibly difficult to find in the area in which I live), I ended up with several new single beers…to go along with the plethora of beers already in the refrigerator. And, of course my beer preferences tend to lean as dark as my soul.

How, then, could I manage to get this surplus of dark beer under control in a fun way that would encourage inebriation and a chance to pretend to know what I’m talking about? Say it with me…

DARKTOBER.

The rules are simple. I’ve set up a spreadsheet (I love spreadsheets), to help me track all the different beers I have right now. I’ve organized them thematically (I’ll explain the themes at the beginning of each new week), with two additional themes set at the end of each week: Every Friday will be dedicated to an Octoberfest/pumpkin-themed beer, and every Saturday will be dedicated to a stout. Oh, and Sundays will be beer-free, because…well, because Loba’s liver needs a break every now and then.

I’m actually incredibly excited about this adventure. While there are some beers that I have already tried and am including simply because I think they’re wonderful and would like to share those feelings with you, many of the beers are ones that I have never had before. So this is going to be a learning experience as well! Bonus!

Also, it’s another way to encourage me to get back to blogging here at the lair. I’m hoping that some of the many projects that are currently pressing down upon me will ease up soon and I’ll be able to blog more regularly about some of the more pensive topics that have been banging around in my brain. Until then, however, enjoy a beer review or two on me 😉

Flashback Friday: Star Trek: The Next Generation

~ LobaBlanca

It’s not going to be a surprise to anyone who knows me, either in person or through the interactions I’ve shared with you here at my lair or my other online haunts, that today is particularly special to my little geeky heart. Twenty-five years ago, on September 28, 1987, one of the most influential shows of my life debuted.

I’m not going to bore you with statistics about the show or tell you about how I think TNG changed pop culture FOREVAH or even try to convince any of you who might not be Star Trek or sci-fi fans in general that this is mandatory viewing. Truth is, I can’t honestly say that. If you don’t like sci-fi, you don’t like it and that’s the end of it. Also? This isn’t a perfect show by any means. Ask any Trek fan who can be honest in their observations and they’ll tell you that there are several painful stretches of viewing displeasure (I’ve even heard some of my friends contend that the show didn’t really hit its stride until the fifth of its seven seasons; I would contend that it started dramatically improving somewhere around the third season, but I can see their point).

So what is the enduring legacy of this show? I could say something like its hope. Its optimism regarding the future of humanity and the human condition. Its progressive predictions about how far we could go if we could only unlock ourselves from the shackles of prejudice and ignorance. And if I did say these things, I would be telling the truth. These are just some of the factors that made me fall in love with TNG.

If I were to be completely honest, however, the reasons that I fell in love with TNG (and most of its subsequent Trek iterations) are purely subjective and purely personal.

I was an awkward, painfully shy adolescent, uncomfortable in my own body for many reasons. I had friends, but never really felt as though I fit in, even with them. I guess I could have tried harder, but I never really learned how to fake interest in the things I was “supposed” to enjoy. I remember all my girl friends leaving me behind as they began to show more interest in things like make-up and dating…while I just wanted to sit in my room and read all weekend and maybe get in a little batting practice after school before I had to do my homework.

TNG was one of the first TV series to show me something that I didn’t even realize I was missing: inclusion. It didn’t matter if you wore a banana clip over your eyes or had a turtle shell glued to your forehead…you were the galactic cheerleader with a chocolate addiction or the perpetually pissed off navigator with the crinkle-cut nose…even if you were the nerdiest, most annoying person in the universe (coughcoughWesleycoughcough)…there was a place for you on the NCC-1701-D.

While I was with the crew of the Enterprise, I wasn’t the outsider. I knew them. I knew that Captain Picard didn’t like children and that Commander Riker loved to throttle his trombone. Worf enjoyed a tall glass of prune juice after shift and Data’s whistle sounded like a vibrator stuck inside a toaster. Deanna couldn’t read your mind but she could state the obvious with deadly acumen, and Geordi couldn’t even figure out how to program a holodeck woman willing to spend more than a few hours with him before she was lulled nearly comatose by his presence.

These characters were my escape, my sanctuary, my dismissal from the unhappiness of reality.

And then there was Dr. Crusher.

It’s actually kind of a sad reason why I love this character above all others from this series, and one that now carries with it the added gilding of guilt for me. My mom was never well and things were particularly rocky for all of us throughout my teen years. She spent a lot time in hospitals and I spent a lot time feeling angry and alone in that wonderfully hyperbolic teenage way. I say that because deep down I knew that I wasn’t alone. My dad was always there for me. So were many other family members.

Looking back with a clearer perspective, I understand that my mom was there for me as well, as best as she could be. At the time, however, I found refuge in the “if only” maternal potential of Dr. Crusher’s constant presence (minus that awful second season, the existence of which I tend not to willingly acknowledge). She was there in ways that I couldn’t bring myself to allow real people to be there for me. She became and remains the most important fictional character I’ve ever known.

Like I said, it’s a rather sad reason I suppose. And I do feel guilty that, while my mom was alive, I spent such a large part of my adolescence wishing that a fictional character could take her place. Hindsight shouldn’t be so painfully in-focus.

So, there you have it. Today marks the 25th anniversary of the most influential television series in my life…and not solely for the reasons you might have expected. It’s been with me for so long that I can’t even remember a time before its existence. I think I once figured out that at the height of my TNG addiction, I watched more than 20 hours per week. When I wasn’t watching it on television, I was reading its novels, listening to its audiobooks, playing its computer games, wearing its T-shirts, drinking coffee from its mugs, going to its conventions, collecting its merchandise in ways that probably could have inspired a very special episode of Hoarders.

Happy anniversary to Captain Picard and his extraordinary crew. And thank you to the Great Bird of the Galaxy who planted the seed from which this galaxy-sized series grew.

Throw Your Hands Up At Me

~ lobablanca

All the voters who are Independent? Your ranks just grew by one last week.

That’s right, last week, I changed my party affiliation. No more Donkey Blue for me, at least not for the time being. For the now, however, I felt it was something that I needed to do. While the ideals of the Democratic Party are still the ideals that closely match my own, the truth is that it’s all lip service. They talk a good game about hope and change and moving forward…which, I suppose, is at least a more uplifting message than the one of divisiveness and exclusion that the Republican Party has embraced of late.

Ultimately, however, it’s the Democrats who prove more disappointing. See, I actually want to see all those wonderful promises come to fruition. I want equality for all, whether it’s for civil unions or equal pay or a college degree. I want women to continue to have the right to choose what happens to our bodies, whether it be through the provision of birth control or abortions. I might not believe in either or I might believe in both…doesn’t matter. I want the choice to be available. I want universal healthcare (not the muddled joke of Obamacare, which was doctored by the insurance companies who’ve helped make a mess of the system in the first place). I want decent public education, affordable higher education…I might not like kids, but I know that an educated youth becomes a knowledgeable and inventive workforce and might even give us a qualified leader or two.

Obviously, we’re in a bit of a shortage on that front.

I want all these things, and for years I have bought into the delusion that the Democrats were going to make good on all their promises.

The only thing that I have learned, however, is that Democrats and Republicans are alike in one significant way: They will make perfectly crafted promises as a means of keeping us in line. Promises addressing key party platform issues like Equal Pay, Abortion Rights, Freedom of Religion, Taxed Enough Already…these all become nothing more than leashes used by the politicians to keep their constituents at heel.

I’m tired of heeling. So I became Independent. Actually, the state of Maryland calls it “Unaffiliated.” That’s fine. I have to admit, I had a moment of indecision when it was time to click submit and send my changes to the voter registration board. I remember how excited I was to be able to register to vote when I turned 18. I couldn’t wait! It was a bigger deal to me than finally turning 21. I had no doubt in my mind that I was going to be a Democrat. Donkey Blue, through and through.

Bill Clinton was my first. It’s been all downhill since.

Will I still reach a point where I regret changing my affiliation? I don’t know. I did consider the fact that the more moderates, like me, who grow weary of either party and abandon them for Independent or another party alternative means that only the hardcore nutjobs will be left as actual registered Democrats or Republicans. Prophets know what might happen then. Obviously, we’ve seen a small-scale version of this already transpiring, with long-time moderate Republicans being replaced by TEA Party hindrances to the system.

Of course, if more people start leaving the two controlling parties and joining alternatives, we might actually become a country that acknowledges more than just the two hot messes we have now.

We can have many hot messes! And then we’d be Canada 😉

By becoming unaffiliated, I’ve lost my ability to vote in any primaries. Primary season is over this election cycle, so I have time to mull over this fact. Right now, though…now that it’s done? I feel a sense of peace. I’m sure that will change once the politicians from both sides realize that I’ve become a “free agent” and start pelting me with mailings and calls. No worries. That’s why there are shredders and caller ID.

Would I encourage others to become Independent? Only if you’ve reached the same point of disillusionment with your chosen party that I have reached. Even if it’s just for right now, even if it’s just for a little while. Stop toeing the party line for yet another run at a race controlled by empty promises.

Photo Fun Friday: Steven Tyler Moore

~ LobaBlanca

Oh, you’re going to hate me for this one. But it had to be done. Another one of those seeds planted in my brain that just wouldn’t stop growing. It all started a few weeks ago when one of my aunts declared that for a moment she thought that Mary Tyler Moore was the new judge on American Idol. At first, I was a bit indignant. No one shall speak blasphemy against the lead singer of one of my all-time favorite bands! Especially the relative at whose house I first discovered the joys of Aerosmith in video form!

Then I let the reality of the statement wash over me. That reality, of course, being what I’ve been saying for quite some time now: The more tweaking that celebrities get done to their faces, the more they all start looking the same.

And thus, dude indeed now does look like a lady:

You know what’s really going to irritate you? When you realize that you can’t tell exactly which parts are Steven and which parts are Mary. I’d help you out, but where’s the fun in that?

BookBin2012: Horns

~ lobablanca

This must be Joe Hill’s lucky year at the lair. He caught me under Locke & Key, then I let him stuff me into his Heart-Shaped Box. Now I’ve been willingly eviscerated by his Horns.

The follow-up to Heart-Shaped Box, Horns is in many ways another of Hill’s takes on supernatural revenge. This time, however, you’re placed in vengeance’s corner rather than opposing it. We meet up with Ignatius “Ig” Perrish on the morning that he wakes up to discover that he has grown a pair of horns. Sadly, this is just another layer on the pile of not-that-great things that have begun to slowly crush him. It’s been almost a year since the love of his life, Merrin Williams, was violently murdered, leading to him being tried, and ultimately cleared due to suspicious circumstances. Still, everyone believes he did it, so he’s pretty much a prisoner anyway, just without the bars.

And now he has horns. Horns that have the disconcerting effect of encouraging anyone who sees them to reveal the darkest parts of themselves to Ig. He learns a lot more about his friends and family than he may have ever wanted to know…but he also learns what exactly happened to Merrin. And thus kicks in the vengeance.

Well, not exactly. Hill doesn’t tell a traditionally linear story, choosing instead to shift readers backward and forward through the layers of the tale, giving you just enough to keep you slightly in the know, but never quite ahead of the story. Ironically, for a story about a man slowly turning into a demon, written by the son of Stephen King, I’d actually peg this as less of a horror story and more of a…supernatural coming-of-age/suspense thriller. With horns. And one of the almighty worst puns pertaining to an indigo-colored article of women’s clothing that I think I have ever read. I promise you, denizens, it is groan-worthy.

Horrifying punnage aside, Hill once again proves that he is a skilled storyteller of his own making, obviously inspired and encouraged by his lineage but quite capable of standing on his own literary merits. He’s also able to create some incredibly bleak and demented characters. And they’re purely human, which makes them that much more upsetting, I think.

Final Verdict: I might actually want to add this one to my collection. I loved the layering of the story, the way it shifted so effortlessly along the plot’s timeline, never missing a beat, never relenting. I also loved the characters (or loved to loathe the characters); Hill’s ability to craft humanity in its myriad forms through nothing more than words is remarkable. This was a thoroughly enjoyable read, even at its darkest moments, and simply makes me that much more of a fan of Joe Hill.

BookBin2012: The Complete Strangers in Paradise, Volume 1

~ LobaBlanca

I’m not quite certain what to make of the first volume of Terry Moore’s Strangers in Paradise.

By no means do I believe that comics need to always be about superheroes or mutants or anything more than everyday life. I point to recent reads like Deogratias, Epileptic, or Blankets…or even further back to Fun Home or This Will All End in Tears as fine examples of how the graphic novel can be a satisfying medium through which to tell tales of normal people experiencing normal things, with beauty, compassion, depth, and sophistication.

Moore seems to be telling a similar tale of normal life in this collection…but not with the level of depth I had hoped for. In truth, his two primary characters seem more like shadows of complexity, shackled to stereotypes that perhaps Moore had originally intended to break through his telling of their tale. Katchoo often comes across as a riotous, man-hating lesbian and Francine is a codependent, overly emotional woman. And of course, Katchoo is in love with Francine, because lesbians can’t be just friends with women.

Look, it’s When Sally Met Sally!

This volume is just the beginning of their story, which apparently lasted quite a while: There are three volumes of Strangers in Paradise, and the third volume is divided into eight parts. The local library has all of those parts…but doesn’t have the second volume at all! I guess it’s a good thing that I didn’t really feel all that invested after reading the first section; I’d be a bit livid right now. Either that or I’d be on Amazon Marketplace, trying to find a cheap used copy. Now look, I can save my money.

Final Verdict: I admit, I am slightly curious about how their story plays out, and if the library did have the second volume, I would probably give it a go. Obviously, there’s something to this story if it lasted long enough to fill out 10 books. Then again, there have been five seasons of Jersey Shore…so, there you go. However, I don’t feel any great sense of loss that I won’t be continuing along with Katchoo and Francine. Back to the library they go.

BookBin2012: Stay Awake

~ LobaBlanca

Pulling back from the political speak for a little while. You come here for a variety of inane ramblings, so time to switch focus.

Stay Awake is a collection of short stories by author Dan Chaon. I’d never heard of Chaon prior to seeing this book on the “Recommended Reading” table at our local library, but he’s apparently enjoyed moderate success with previous short story collections and novels. With this collection, he examines the darker side of the emotional spectrum through a series of explorations into loss and sorrow.

His prose is at times detached, analytical, which I believe helps immensely as he tackles a series of tales that could very easily slip into the syrupy sanctuary of schmaltzy sentimentality. There’s also an inescapable shifting in his narrative that always leaves you off-balance and uncertain as to what will happen next. His tales are melancholy, morose, strange, and most often unnerving. I also found them to be deeply satisfying.

What can I say? I like the darkness.

There are 12 stories in total in this collection, and each one possesses some strange intimacy with death that I found disturbingly entrancing. I also can’t help but wonder how much loss Chaon has experienced in his life to have such an…open relationship with the many guises of the Grim Reaper. He’s either intimately familiar with it through experience or possesses a very honed morbid sensibility. Either way, his grappling with these various forms of loss is exquisite.

Final Verdict: I don’t know yet if I want this as part of my own collection, but I do believe I would like to further explore Chaon’s oeuvre. His darker sensibilities appeal greatly to my own.