They're invisible and smell like acorns.

Naturally, the weekend started with a trip to Curtis Liquors for some beer browsing. I had recently heard of Backlash Beer Company, and happened to see their two brews, Convergence and Groundswell on the shelves. Of course, they wound up in my clutches, and will be reviewed (hopefully) soon. A cool feature: they dip the bottle tops in wax (a-la Makers Mark, Knob Creek and other bourbons, but somewhat unusual on beer bottles), and put a cool logo stamp on the top, like a signet ring. Nice touch.




Also liberated from Curtis was a six-pack of New Zealand Breweries LTD Steinlager Pure. Beautiful matte-finished green cans, slim due to their 300ml (10.1 oz) volume. Purchased almost purely for aesthetics, and again, an upcoming review. It tasted like any other lager, but was on sale for $5. It may still be cheap beer, but it’s FOREIGN cheap beer!

Apropos of cheap beer from foreign lands, the main score: Baltika Brewery Grade 9 “Extra Lager.” I had mentioned this one before when I snagged the glass pint-sized bottle and yearned for the 1.5l. No such regrets this time… The 1 quart, 1 pint, 3 oz plastic-clad wonder was mine for the equally wondrous price of $3.75. That’s 51 oz of beer, which breaks down to 4.25 beers, or 88¢ per drink. At 8% abv. Looking forward to a fun evening when I unleash this Russian monster. I swear I heard it whisper “I must break you.”


Before our cocktail night, the Lady Friend and I also sampled a Clown Shoes Muffin Top, which is described as a Belgian-style tripel IPA. It was… interesting. Hoppy nose with a hint of Belgiany-wheaty-banana lurking underneath. The wheat is much more prevalent in the taste, though with plenty of IPA hop to confuse my mouth. It was good, but I much prefer the Tramp Stamp, which leans more towards the hoppy versus the Belgian wheat flavors. Still, at 10% abv, it was just the thing to kick my Friday evening into gear, and motivate my apartment cleaning activities.


Saturday brought a perfect fall day with big cartoon Simpsons clouds, ideal for a baseball game. I play with some former coworkers, and this was our “World Series,” the final game of the season. The Knives slashed The Guns 9-8, though it was a well-fought battle. Following the game, we convened for a backyard barbeque and, of course, a wide selection of beers. The Lady Friend and I brought Harpoon’s 5:30 club mix pack, containing the IPA, Munich Dark Lager, UFO White and Belgian-style Pale Ale. My consumables were, as near as I can remember, the following:

- Harpoon IPA: nothing wrong here. Always a pleasure.

- Samuel Adams Bonfire Rauchbier: it didn’t smell like smoke (Rauchbier is literally a smoked beer… it’s odd, and lovely in small doses) but there were elements of charcoal in the taste. Not bad, but not stunning. I have a feeling they kept the smoke flavor subdued to keep the masses happy. Nothing like the rowdy Bamberg boys.

- Trinity IPA: from the Trinity Brewhouse in Providence, RI. I’ve been there several times, and their IPA is outstanding. They only sell their six-packs near Providence, but luckily someone hoofed it up from the Island of Rhode.

- Samuel Adams Black Lager: well, most people brought Harpoon beers, but someone brought a Sam sampler. I’ve had all the Harpoon ones that were at the party, so I took to trying a couple of these Sams. The black lager had a light body but mild roasted flavor. Not bad. Acceptable, but again, like most Sam beers, seemed to be dumbed down for mass appeal.

- Samuel Adams Boston Lager: like the Harpoon IPA, this is a go-to in Boston. Nearly every bar in the city serves this flagship brew, and given the choice between this and the usual macrobrews, I’ll happily chug this every time. Lots of flavor for a lager; if you think it’s “too strong,” then maybe you shouldn’t be drinking beer. You really can’t go wrong here, and Sam Lager has probably helped countless lost souls over to the land of craft beers. For that Sam, I thank you.

Modern Drunkard Magazine’s articleThe 86 Rules of Boozing, by Frank Kelly Rich states:

The Rule 37 series of posts chronicle my attempts to accomplish this feat every week. For the recipes of R37s past, click the Htf do I make these drinks? tab.


Our normally serene cocktail night this week was usurped by a visit from the Irish Lad and Wifey. Natually, SFHQ was in a slovenly state of affairs, and needed some rigorous attention before accepting visitors into its depths. I had made my usual stop at the liquor store for some beer browsing (I didn’t MEAN to buy anything! It just sort of happened!) and dashed over to the supermarket for some citrus fruits, which further cut into tidying time. The Lady Friend arrived, and we determined that our Rule 37 requirement would best be filled before the arrival of the guests. She had several printouts of cocktails that appealed to her (many seasonal ones), and we each chose one from her lists. Once the kitchen situation was sorted, she prepared hers: Berry Nutty on the Rocks – 1 oz whiskey, 1 oz amaretto, 1/2 cranberry juice, garnish with fresh cranberries (we didn’t have any). Finally, after pushing the last of my junk into the closet to deal with at some unspecified time in the distant future, I prepared a quick photo set, and mixed my cocktail.

The Red Raider

- 1 oz bourbon (Knob Creek)
- 1/2 oz triple sec
- 1 oz fresh lemon juice
- 1 dash grenadine.

Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.
I’d make up something witty, but there really isn’t much about this one that lends itself to double entendres.






So, for a drink called the RED Raider, it turned out a rather pale orange hue. I helped that out with another generous dollop of grenadine for some color, which settled into tasty goo at the bottom of the glass. The drink in general tasted pretty mild… the bourbon was lost in the lemon, and there was a touch of the triple sec dry mouthfeel. I think some more bourbon would help this one out in the future, but the layer of grenadine at the end was certainly tasty.


With our cocktail requirements met, I switched over to a Negroni, and we entertained the visitors with further imbibitudness. Wifey started with a extremely-dirty vodka martini containing no less than four large olives, until I pointed out that an even number of olives is thought to be bad luck, at which time it became five. She then concocted a number of her “Wifey-ritas” composed mainly of pineapple juice, vodka, Malibu rum, and Bacchus knows what else. Like Narnia, you can’t get there the same way twice. I think there was some mango juice involved at one point as well, though my maraschino cherry supply went unscathed. The rest of us switched over to beer, and started with a New Zealand lager, Steinlager Pure, I discovered earlier that day. From there we tasted a Monk’s Cafe Flemish Sour, a Blue Hills Brewery OktoBraü, a Sly Fox Route 113 IPA, while Wifey raided the last of the Mike’s lime and berry malt bevs stashed in the back of my fridge. Not a bad night of boozing.

If you live in Massachusetts, you may or may not have seen recently that happy hour may be returning to the state.

If you don’t live in Massachusetts, you may or may not be shocked to find out that happy hour was banned here.

I’ll explain.


Back in the early 1980s, happy hour was a perfectly normal part of running a bar. Then, a 20-year-old girl named Kathleen Barry was killed by a drunk driver in the parking lot of a Ground Round (classy) in Braintree. The driver was her 20-year-old friend, Sheila MacManus, who had consumed at least seven beers prior to the accident. Note: Though they were both 20 at the time, they were of legal drinking age; the National Minimum Drinking Age Act didn’t go into effect until 1984. That promped Braintree to impose a happy hour ban for the town, making it the second to do so (Framingham banned happy hour specials in 1982). Sheila pled guilty to drunk driving and vehicular homicide, and her harsh sentence was a whopping ONE MONTH in prison. A 20-year-old girl had seven or more beers (it doesn’t mention the length of time), got into her car, ran over her friend, and for that got only one month in prison.

Naturally, because Massachusetts has such a panic-mode, knee-jerk reactionary system set up, instead of blaming a) the bar for overserving, b) the DJ of the bar for encouraging her to chug drinks or c) the 20-year-old driver with seven beers in her stomach, they decided that happy hour was to blame. MA does things like that. If Sunday’s IndyCar accident, which resulted in the death of driver Dan Wheldon (video clip), had happened in Boston, the Commonwealth would ban cars for everybody.

The incident was the last straw in a series of drunk driving accidents, and George R. McCarthy, the chairman of the Massachusetts Alcoholic Beverages Control Commission (ABCC) had enough, saying “I’ve heard all the horror stories I’m going to listen to.” With the help of then-governor Michael Dukakis (whose alcoholic wife was busy drinking rubbing alcohol at the time), a ban on discounted or free drinks went into effect state-wide on Dec. 11, 1984, the so-called “happy hour bill.” Since then, every bar in the Commonwealth must submit a price list to the ABCC, and may not offer free drinks or discounts of any kind on alcohol, or have different prices for different days of the week. It also prohibits serving more than two drinks to one person at the same time, which means you can get a shot and a beer, but not a pitcher of beer for yourself. No games involving alcohol are allowed either… at Club 58 in downtown Quincy, there are beer pong tables, but you must fill the cups with water. No joke. It’s posted on the ABCC website as “Regulation 204-4.03: Certain Practices Prohibited.”

Massachusetts was the first in the nation to impose a state- Commonwealth-wide ban on drink specials. Since then, MA has been the ugly girl at the party, sitting over by the snack table watching everyone else having fun playing beer pong. In Syracuse, NY, there are posters at one of my old college haunts advertising $2.50 pitchers of beer. In Milwaukee we played beer pong in a bar. In MA, a pitcher of beer will set you back $10+ for a cheap macrobrew, since NO DISCOUNTS WHATSOEVER are allowed. You’d better have two or more people or they won’t sell you that pitcher, and you damn well can’t play any games with it. The only thing bars and restaurants are allowed to do is offer discounts on food, such as half-price appetizers, trying to lure in business.

This is what the drinkers of Massachusetts have to endure.

Skip ahead skip ahead, and now Mass has passed legislation to bring casinos and gambling to the state Commonwealth instead of losing business to Mohegan Sun and Foxwoods in Connecticut. What do casinos usually have? Free drinks while you’re gambling. But wait… you CAN’T serve free drinks in Mass. Hmmm… what to do? Well, let’s pass a bill that says it’s ok for casinos to serve free and/or discounted drinks. Ah, but now all the bar and restaurant owners are upset, saying the casinos will have an unfair advantage and take their business. Yikes, ok, well what if we make it the same for everybody? If casinos can have discounts, then so can bars and restaurants. So, after the original casino bill was passed by the Mass House of Representatives, the Senate tacked on a bill to that effect, called the Restaurant Equality Amendment. Since the House passed the original, they now have to approve the updated version passed by the Senate, including the happy hour amendment.

And that’s where we are.


So, here’s some of the interesting factors. The amendment was introduced by State Senator Robert Hedlund. Why should that matter? Well, Hedlund is co-owner of Four Square, a new restaurant and bar in Weymouth landing. I’ve been there a couple times with the Lady Friend (the last time for trivia night, where we placed second) and they have an excellent craft beer selection. Naturally, it would seem that as co-owner, he’d profit directly from legislation allowing drink specials. Of course, I’m pro-happy hour, but that little tidbit shouldn’t be overlooked.

On the other side of the fence are tardbabies like Tony Castagnozzi, co-owner of Rattlesnake Bar & Grill on Boylston Street. I read an article yesterday featuring this dbag and was incensed. He’s whining about several things that don’t make sense, claiming that firstly, overserving is going to be “a manager’s nightmare,” and secondly, drunk driving problems will skyrocket. Joey Arcari of Tavern in the Square in Cambridge claims it will lead “lead to everyone undercutting everyone.” Our old pal Dukakis, the liberal asshat who got us into this mess had the balls to say “There’s absolutely no question that people will be killed, maimed and injured as a result of this,” referring to increased drunk driving incidents.


Broad picture first: Rattlesnake is a douchy overpriced place on Boylston. Tavern in the Square is an overpriced place on Mass Ave (two locations in Porter Sq and Central Sq). Why are they scared by this? Because they’re both wildly overpriced due to their premium locations. If this law went into effect, places like the Pour Farm and Whiskey’s on Boylston, with a younger crowd, would rake in the money gained from offering drink specials. The Rattlesnake isn’t about to discount their $9 glass of house wine, and there are TONS of bars in Cambridge that will undercut Tavern.

So let’s take this point by point.
- Overserving: It is illegal to serve alcohol to someone who is “visibly intoxicated,” and the happy hour amendment won’t change that. Nor should it. However, Castagnozzi claims “It’s hard enough to keep track when you’re serving one drink per person, never mind two drinks.” Buddy, if you can’t keep track of two drinks, you shouldn’t be running a bar. That comes down to responsibility on the part of the business, and clearly you don’t want to bother. That’s your problem.

- Undercutting between bars: Arcari of Tavern is worried the amendment is “going to lead to everyone undercutting everyone.” Uh, that’s called BUSINESS. You have to give the customer something; good food, good service, good prices, unique location or atmosphere… if you’re twice as expensive as the place down the block, then you can’t claim they’re “undercutting” you. That’s called competition. Step it up or you’ll go out of business. Again, that’s on you, pal.

- Drunk Driving: Clearly a problem, as anyone driving from Boston to Quincy on a Saturday night can attest to. It’s like Mario Kart on the Expressway (oh I would LOVE to have some red turtle shells). However, in addition to banning happy hour, MA has drastically increased the laws and penalties for drunk driving, including lower limits (BAC of 0.08), ignition interlock device requirements for repeat offenders (Melanie’s Law), higher fines and longer jail sentences. Drunk driving has fallen 23% across the nation since 1982, and you want me to believe that banning happy hour had anything to do with that? What about all the other states that DIDN’T ban it? Dukakis is an irrelevant whiny crybaby with an alky wife, and the bar owners are only worried because bars are held responsible if there is an incident after someone drinks at their establishment. Train your staff properly or accept the consequences. Besides, who is driving to these places? You’re telling me most patrons are driving to the Rattlesnake? No way. Castagnozzi and others are using the drunk driving excuse as a scare tactic because they’re worried they’ll lose customers to more reasonably priced bars, especially if drink specials are offered.


So, this got wordy, but it’s an important topic around here these days. The amendment has yet to be ratified by a committee, and even then I believe it can still be vetoed by the governor. I’m not sure on that. The bill also states that restaurants and bars can offer the same drink specials as casinos, so I’m sure there will be a loophole in there that someone will exploit saying “well, the casinos aren’t even built yet, so no happy hour until they’re up and running.” We’ll see. For now, the battle continues, but progress is being made.

Mini road trip! This weekend’s adventure was a trek down Route 3 to Plymouth, MA, for a tour of the Mayflower Brewery and some bar-hopping in downtown Plymouth. One of my former coworkers lives down there, and is always up for shenanigans in town, though I’m fond of saying that Plymouth is a 45 minute drive from everywhere. The Lady Friend and I had been to Mayflower for their open house back in May, and got to sample the full range of beers then. However, we’re always up for a repeat performance, and this time I’d get to document it properly.

We met up with the coworker, Tresstastic, and her boyfriend at her apartment, and pounded a quick Sam Octoberfest before heading over the the brewery, meeting up with two other friends. Mayflower, like most breweries, is located in an industrial park. It’s hard to spot, so keep an eye out for the delivery trucks parked next to the building. As soon as I walked in the door, the Man Behind the Bar asked “Hey… Man with the Camera… are you from somewhere important?” No, but I like to pretend. Then, the girl working there said “Hey… I recognize you…” Yup. Getting recognized at breweries. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing. Like the liquor store near my apartment that stopped carding me long ago. It’s nice, but probably not a good sign for the future of my liver.

There is a bit of a story to that one. Back in May when LF and I were at the Open House, we hung around the bar area towards the end and chatted with the staff, one of which was the girl working this weekend, Sarah. She swore I had been there before, even though I had never been to Mayflower. Apparently I have a doppleganger, because she insisted it was me, or someone who looked exactly like me that had been in there about two weeks before. I made some comment about having to hunt him down because THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE. Anyway, apparently either I made an impression, or my doppleganger is still lurking about Mayflower Brewery, since Sarah remembered meeting me before.


Like most breweries now, Mayflower has a tasting room/retail area front, including some bar tables and small seating area, while the actual brewery lies down a small hallway into the back warehouse section. We were pretty much the only ones in the place, which made it nice and casual for our tour. Before beginning, we started with a beer. “Can’t take a tour without a beer in your hand,” remarked Man Behind the Bar, as he poured a sample of the Golden Ale for each of us. We headed into the back, and Sarah started the tour.

The usual: blah blah blah, beer beer beer. Mix grain with water and hops, boil it up, add yeast, and let it sit and ferment. Here’s some of the interesting bits about Mayflower: the founder, Drew, is a 10th generation descendant of a man named John Alden, who was the cooper (barrelmaker) on the Mayflower. Yes, that one. Why is that important? Well, the cooper was responsible for building and maintaining all the barrels stowed on the ship during the voyage. Yeah, those weren’t water barrels either… they were full of beer. Water wasn’t very clean in those days, and most people drank healthy, nourishing and refreshing beer all day long. Even kids. Especially kids. Gin wouldn’t become the drink of choice until a bit later. Anyway, the story goes that the Mayflower was destined for Virginia, but ran into Cape Cod instead, and decided to land because they were out of beer. Not finding any suitable fresh water (it was pretty stagnant on the Cape) they set off again and landed in Plymouth, where they found an adequate supply of fresh water, which is the same source used to make Mayflower Brewing’s beers today. The founder, Drew, got tired of being retired, and started up Mayflower in 2007 which is currently a 2,000bbl facility. Pretty good for a four-year-old place.

So, we poked around and gawked at their grist mill, mash tun, fermenters and runoff buckets bubbling happily with C02-and-wort foam released from the top of the fermenters. Bubbling gunk means fermentation, and fermentation means alcohol! Go little yeasties, go! As usual, I was snapping pics for the duration leading Sarah to chide “What ARE you taking pictures of?” However, the first time I pointed the lens in her general direction, she jumped as if scalded with boiling hot mag-ma. The main room is all one unit where the fermentation tanks take center stage. Some time ago, Mayflower expanded into the next room where their shiny new Italian-made bottler lurks. It’s a two or three person operation and will bottle both 12 oz bottles and 22 oz bombers. Mayflower has 15 employees, including a couple of delivery drivers. The brewery cranks out four year-round beers and one rotating seasonal, plus a few elusive experimental bottles of their Thanksgiving beer, which changes every year.

We congregated back in the front room and lined up at the bar. Taps were pulled, and mighty beer plunged forth. Mayflower gives you some decently generous samples, in the 4-5oz range served in mini-pint tasting glasses. They serve lightest to darkest, and everything is deliciously free. Free beer always tastes better. Especially when it’s fresh.


Golden Ale
We started off with the Golden Ale to sip during the tour. Mine didn’t make it past the grist mill.
Nose: Light, with a bit of malty cereal sweetness
Taste: Mild hop with a nice malt balance. Light and refreshing. Almost lager-like.




Pale Ale
Now, I first had this back in May at the Open House. I’d had the IPA many times before, and enjoyed it, but tasting the pale ale was my real flash-of-lightning “A-HA” moment. The trick is, in many breweries, the pale ale doesn’t really have much presence, and the IPA is a real hop bomb. There’s no similarity. With Mayflower, the pale ale tastes like a lighter version of the IPA. You can really taste the progression from one to the next. I had never experienced that before, and it was wonderful.
Nose: A mild hoppy nose. Definite aroma, but not too strong.
Taste: Deliciously hoppy bitter. Mayflower leans towards the English style ales, with a more bitter hop, but their brews are very well-balanced.


India Pale Ale
I’ve had this many many times, but still not as often as I should. Harpoon usually wins my purchase for a local IPA due to the convenience and price, but I really do need to make an effort to buy Mayflower more often. I’m not saying it’s better, but, well, yeah, it’s better.
Nose: Sweet, tree fruit. It reminded Lady Friend of a Citra hop, though not as strong. They use a combination of Nugget, Simcoe, Amarillo and Glacier hops, with the Simcoe and Amarillo in particular adding citrus aromas.
Taste: Yum. Bitter hop up front, malt sweet rushes in with a sweet clean slight fruitness, then leaves a dry hop bitterness lingering. So. Good.


Autumn Wheat (Seasonal)
This is the, well, autumn seasonal. LF and I had the Summer Rye back in May, and this is described as an American Dark Wheat beer. Interesting. Also of note: the next seasonal will be an Oatmeal Stout. We’ll have to visit again in winter.
Nose: Very roasted and malty. Don’t really get any of the yeasty/ wheaty banana smells as in a Belgian Wit.
Taste: Roasted bitter. Malted sweetness. There’s a slight nuttiness, due to the roast, but a rounder sweetness from the wheat. Very nice. Again, not overpowering, and well-balanced.


Porter
A great Porter. Lady Friend liked it so much after our trip in May that she’s purchased it several times since. This is a girl who about 10 months ago preferred Coors Light.
Nose: Coffee bitter. Not much sweetness.
Taste: Roasted. Bitter roast. I’m not a coffee fan, but I’ll drink this. If you ARE a coffee drinker, you’ll love this. There’s not a whole lot of chocolate in there, but there is a touch.


While chitchatting with Sarah and The Man Behind the Bar, I eventually found out that his name was Mike, and he also has a blog, cunningly titled “The Best Beer Blog.” And here I am stuck with “Squirrel Farts.” Shucks. We discussed the hassles and happiness of writing blogs about alcohol, and I showed him the magical scam of free business cards. Finally, the rest of the group grouped and grew restless, and they dragged me away. We dropped the car back at the apartment and cabbed it over to the Main Street Grill in downtown Plymouth for dinner, where the Lady Friend waited way too long for some turkey tips (they were comped) and I scored a 22oz “Main Street Brew” for a paltry $3.50. She had something Octobery with a sugared rim. After the foodening, a quick saunter around the corner brought us to the British Beer Company. This was a goal of mine for some lovely imported brews (I was obliged to take a draught of Fuller’s London Pride pale ale, or, as it’s ordered in London, a “Pint ‘o Pride”) and cozy leather wingback chairs in their upstairs lounge. Too comfortable in fact, since the group lost its momentum, and we all decided that the adventure was flickering out. No matter; the trip was a rousing success, and even ended with some ice cream for the Lady Friend and I before returning to the Bastion of Beer, Squirrel Farts Headquarters.

Modern Drunkard Magazine’s articleThe 86 Rules of Boozing, by Frank Kelly Rich states:

The Rule 37 series of posts chronicle my attempts to accomplish this feat every week. For the recipes of R37s past, click the Htf do I make these drinks? tab.


Another Friday, another cocktail night.
With the cooler temps, I’ve been dragging the Lady Friend (with some reluctance on her part) towards a seasonal shift in liquors. Summertime is for the light, clear liquors – gin, tequila, light rum, etc. – and light, refreshing, fruity summer drinks. The Tom Collins. The Margarita. The Daiquiri. Now that the autumn is clearly upon us (excluding last weekend’s 80 degree temps) the time has come for the darker liquors, the browns: brandy, cognac, whiskey, medium/aged/dark rum, scotch. Warm happy spirits that slide down your gullet and stoke a small wood stove deep in your belly, heating from the inside out. Since the Lady Friend is a tequila fan, she’s none too happy with this edict, but has been joining in the movement slowly, starting with brandy. As a wine drinker, I think she likes the connection to her precious grapes, (though now is developing more enthusiasm for my guarded whiskey supply) and has enjoyed several Sidecars in the past. This drink was an interesting little twist on the classic Sidecar.

Between the Sheets

- 3/4 oz brandy
- 3/4 oz light rum (Bully Boy!)
- 3/4 oz triple sec
- 1/2 oz fresh lemon juice

Gently introduce the brandy and rum in a mixing glass; they’ll come to appreciate each other quickly. While their comfort level is warming, add the triple sec to the ménage. Gradually ease in the lemon juice, as a wicked delight to the threesome of spirits. Add ice and shake the group frantically until they collapse in a satisfied heap. Dribble the ensemble into a chilled cocktail glass to rest in the afterglow.

Seductively twirl a lemon spiral, as one would coquettishly play with a lock of hair, trying to win favor with an admirer across the bar. Whilst their attention is undivided, garnish delicately with the lemon, as a token keepsake bestowed on a paramour.

This is a sexy-time drink. Sweet and tasty, with some triple sec dry finish. Especially enjoyable was the ability to pick out each individual ingredient in the taste, though they blend together with wonderful results. Between the Sheets makes a nice transition between the light and dark liquors. It’s got the summery light rum (though the Bully Boy has a lovely sugary dark rum taste) and the brown brandy. It’s practically a Sidecar, but with some rum in it. There is another variation of Between the Sheets, with more brandy, no rum, and a little Benedictine, but this version was just the thing for a quiet cocktail evening in the cozy setting of my Cocktail Cavern, the Libation Lair, the Den of Drink. Try one by candlelight with your lady friend or gentleman caller when the leaves begin to fall.

Modern Drunkard Magazine’s articleThe 86 Rules of Boozing, by Frank Kelly Rich states:

The Rule 37 series of posts chronicle my attempts to accomplish this feat every week. For the recipes of R37s past, click the Htf do I make these drinks? tab.


Friday night! Cocktail night!

…but what cocktail to have?

I hit some cocktail doldrums. Despite having a constant list of Rule 37 suggestions, I was adrift in the Ennui Sea with no wind in the sails. I flipped through various recipe books and hit random drink suggestions on a couple websites, but nothing seemed appealing. When this happens, I tend to fall back on my fav book, Dale DeGroff’s Craft of the Cocktail, and scan the pages looking for something tasty. There were a couple things that looked mildly interesting, but what I finally settled on was something completely unexpected.


The Royal Hawaiian
From Dale DeGroff’s The Craft of the Cocktail

- 1 1/2 oz gin (Beefeater London Dry)
- 1 oz pineapple juice
- 1/2 oz freshly squeezed lemon juice
- 1/4 oz orgeat

Splash ingredients into mixing glass like the waves crashing on the beach, add ice and shaker tin.

Sip by moonlight on a white sand beach.


This was a surprisingly good drink. I expected it to either have too much gin flavor, or too much pineapple, but it really balanced well. Sure, you can taste the gin up front, and the pineapple juice sweetens and rounds out the finish, but not in an overpowering way; I find pineapple tends to be stronger in drinks than I prefer. I had been trying to avoid gin-based drinks, since SFHQ is in a bit of a gin deficit at the moment, and what remained of a bottle of Beefeater was being rationed, mainly for usage in an Negroni in times of amaro emergencies. However, nothing else caught my attention, so in went the gin. Mix, shake, sip. Hmm. Since the first one was so nice, I may as well have another and kill off the wounded soldier. Plus, the last shot in the bottle is free. See if your local bartender agrees.

Following a trip to Curtis Liquors, I returned home with a sample pack of Mercury Brewing Ipswich Ales, including their Original Ale, Summer Ale, and IPA. I cracked an IPA (very nice, decently hoppy, but not out of control) before cocktail time. I finished the evening with an impulse buy, a Baltika Batch 9 lager.

Ok, the story here is that I saw what I swear was a plastic two litre bottle of this beer on the shelf. (UPDATE: Apparently it’s a 1.5l plastic bottle) For about $4. I almost bought it, because a) it’s 2l of beer for $4 and b) it was probably FANTASTICALLY horrifying. Then I noticed a pint bottle (this one was actually glass) on the shelf below for about $2, and decided that was a better idea. I took a closer look at the label and found that it was from St. Petersburg, Russia (awesome potential for a horror show) and that it was an 8% abv lager. Yikes. Bring it on. It smelled quite fruity, with a hint of alcohol to it, but tasted surprisingly pleasant. I was expecting much much worse, and was actually a bit disappointed that it was so drinkable. Best comparison? A malt liquor forty. It’s got that fruity, over-boozed taste to it, like they took a cheap lager and upped the abv with some grain spirit. I might very well go back for that giant plastic bottle.


Saturday began with a recon trip to Bin Ends, a new-ish liquor store in Braintree, near the South Shore Plaza mall. They deal mainly in wine, but also have a very nice craft beer selection (including the entire lineup of Clown Shoes brews) and an interesting offering of spirits. The staff was very nice and knowledgeable, and I snagged a Clown Shoes Tramp Stamp, and their new release, Muffin Top. I was also intrigued by something that caught my eye right at the front register; several bottles by Meletti, including a sambuca, and anisette, and an amaro. As I was explaining to the Lady Friend what an amaro is (a bitter Italian liqueur, used as an aperitif, or digestif), the clerk seemed impressed that I knew what I was talking about. I wound up buying the bottle of amaro as my bottle of the month (the way I build my bar is to budget myself to one new bottle of liquor per month). I usually aim for under $30, and the amaro clocked in at a very reasonable $18 (a 750mL bottle of Campari, a very well-known amaro, will run around $30 in MA). The Lady Friend wound up with a bomber of Unibroue’s Trois Pistoles, a Belgian strong dark ale she had enjoyed at one of Irish Lad & Wifey’s gatherings, some bottle of Malbec wine, and an inexpensive sparkling for further sabering adventures. Bin Ends was a score… great product, knowledgeable and friendly staff.


Following lunch, (with an Ipswich Summer Ale) we ventured into the city to feed the squirrels on Boston Common. Lady Friend was meeting a friend for dinner and a concert near Fenway, so we decided to lounge around the city for the afternoon, weather permitting. It wound up being above 80°, strange even for a New England October weekend. We packed a few travelers, the Clown Shoes Tramp Stamp, and a Bear Republic Racer 5, storing the amber nectar into some Nestea bottles for inconspicuous consumption in the park. Apparently, the police had their hands full dealing with some other dbags that day, so we sipped our cold tea in peace among the bucolic splendor of the Land of Squirrels.


Once Lady Friend departed for her rendezvous, I spent some more time among the bushy-tailed rodents enjoying my buzz until I hopped the T up to Somerville to visit the Irish Lad and Wifey. She picked me up from Davis Sq. and we opened a bottle of prosecco back at the homestead. Did I say opened? Rather, we sabered it off. Tee hee. A glass of bubbly was enjoyed before the Irish Lad joined, and I suggested he try a Black Velvet. We mixed the prosecco with a can of Young’s Double Chocolate Stout with very pleasant results. Better than Guinness, as there is an added element of the dark chocolate taste, nicely cut by the fruity wine. Irish Lad was a bit apprehensive at first, but then agreed that it was indeed a tasty tipple.

From there, we moved to a bottle of his recent homebrew, a hoppy brown ale. It nosed with a lot of hop, and tasted the same. There was a slight element of malty brown ale in the finish, but not quite enough, in my opinion. Since the brew has been bottle conditioning for about two weeks, we decided that with further conditioning, the overpowering hop would likely mellow, leaving a better balance in the taste. I got two bottles to bring home, which are currently fermenting further in the cabinet under my kitchen counter.

Lastly, he broke out a bottle of Harpoon 100 Barrel Series, #38 Dôcesná, which I found to be somewhat unpleasant. This seems to be a trend with the 100 Barrel Series, as we intensely disliked the Rye IPA. The Oyster Stout, however, is excellent. This Dôcesná creature poured medium dark, almost like a German dunkel, and smelled of Czech pils staleness. The taste was right in there as well, with a pils rubbery cardboard presence, and a slight dark maltiness to the finish. Ugh.


The Lady Friend and I reconvened the next day for lunch at the Union Brewhouse. We did some more work on our 99 beer lists, and she opted for an Opa Opa Pumpkin (Cask) Ale, while I started with a Hoegaarden Wit-Blanch, a very popular Belgian white ale. Second was a Lexington Brewing Kentucky Ale, tasty, though a bit forgettable, and lastly a Coastal Extreme Newport Storm Summer Ale, which is nicely hopped for a summer, and some call it an IPA.




Being Columbus Day, I had Monday off, and spent a good deal of it watching Ken Burns’ documentary “Prohibition,” while tasting an Ipswich Original Ale with lunch, finishing out the trio from Mercury Brewing. Dinner brought forth a Williams Brothers Joker IPA, and a post-meal tasting of the Meletti Amaro. More on that to come. Another drinktastic weekend drowned in intoxicants. Excellent.

Octoberfest season!

The ol’ SquirrelFartsMail inbox started lighting up a couple weeks ago with notices of various autumnal October/Oktober festival drinking opportunities (I subscribe to quite a few drink-related newsletters). I generally avoid the larger gatherings, preferring smaller venues with easier (quicker) access to the beer. I don’t like crowds; I don’t like lines. Several of the festivals were listing ticket prices in the $40+ range, which I think is a bit steep, since that generally doesn’t include food or beer. What am I paying for? The privilege of coming to your festival and spending more money? Blow me.

One of the emails caught my eye: Harpoon Brewery. Yes, I’ve been there many times and written about them here before, but since I’m a Friend of Harpoon (sign up… it’s free) they send me various emails about deals and events that usually include a discount for Friends. The one that caught my eye was an Oktoberfest Kickoff night at Jacob Wirth, a German beer hall-style restaurant in Boston that’s been there since 1868. The deal was that the first 50 Friends of Harpoon would get “a genuine Harpoon Octoberfest mug (1 Liter!) and 2 passes to Harpoon Octoberfest.” Well, kinda, but more on that soon. It sounded like a good excuse to drink some nice German beers in the city on a Tuesday night, and I managed to talk the Lady Friend into it.

We met up at South Station (I had a couple Harpoon IPAs at Clark’s and flipped through the latest BeerAdvocate mag while waiting for her to get out of work) and headed over to Jacob’s (in a very roundabout path… I was using my beer compass). It’s over in the theatre district, and has been there for about 6,000 years. It’s definitely a place worth checking out, though I have a few tips: go on an off night (the bar area is extremely narrow and crowded), order good German beers (for the love, don’t order a Bud Light), and be aware that the food is overpriced for what is essentially trumped-up pub grub, unless you want some of the crazy German food. The biggest widespread gripe with Jacob’s has always been the quality of service; they certainly don’t have the varsity squad of Boston’s waitstaff here. There was a big kerfuffle last year where the owner apparently saw the negative reviews they were getting on Yelp, and called the waitstaff losers, telling them to shape up or ship out. Maybe that was an overreaction, but I’ve never been really satisfied by the service there, and apparently I’m not alone.

Now, it seemed busy for a Tuesday, and I’m assuming the Harpoon event was responsible for most of that draw. It was about a 10-minute wait for a table, which was fine, but once we sat down it took about another 10 minutes for any server to even acknowledge us. What? At least give me a nod or a quick “sorry, I’ll be with you in a minute” so I know that you know that we’re sitting here. Strike one. So, we ordered appropriately German beers (a Hofbräu Dunkel for me and a Fransiskaner Dunkel Weiss for she) and got our food order in while the waiter was nearby. I ordered a grilled chicken BLT, no tomato, no mayo. What I got was grilled chicken with lettuce and mayo. Really? Why is there mayo on here, and where is my bacon? Strike two. However, I was hungry, and hate sending food back, especially in a place where it’ll take another 20 minutes for a sandwich. I managed to snag a good place in the Harpoon line that was forming, and got my “genuine 1 litre mug,” which was ACTUALLY a 20 oz glass, nowhere near a litre, which is 33.8 oz. Don’t lie to me like that, Harpoon. Grabbed the free passes, and headed back to the table to finish dinner. We each had a second beer (me: Lammsbrau Dunkel, she: Spaaten Optimator) and then got the hell out of there.

The conclusion: go to Jacob’s for some excellent, proper German beers, but don’t order food. It’s overpriced, takes forever to get to the table, and probably won’t be what you ordered.

Saturday afternoon, we pregamed with a Brewdog Hardcore IPA before setting out for the Harpoon craziness. I’ve been to their festivals before, notably the Irish Fest, but never the Octoberfest. I had an idea of what to expect: long lines, drink tickets, and chaos around the beer taps. Octoberfest lived up to all the expectations, with probably over a thousand people there. On the other hand, we went into the much shorter Friends of Harpoon VIP line. Score. Then we saw the small print on the back of the free passes saying they were for Friday night only, not Saturday afternoon. Unscore. Wtf Harpoon? That’s a cheap move. No one thought to mention that anywhere in the emails or promotions. Thanks. So we had to pay the admission like a couple of average schnooks, and in we went, through the brewery to the parking lot on the other side where the festivities were in full swing. Keg bowlers bowling, German girls’ booben a-boobing, cake eaters eating, German oom-pah bands, um, oom-pah-ing, and everyone drinking. These things consist of two main activities… standing around talking or waiting in line. There’s the beer ticket line ($5/ticket/beer. Not outrageous) before the actual beer line (and the bathroom line). They had their IPA, Munich Dark, UFO White, and, of course, Octoberfest beers all on tap. Pick a beer, pick a line. I started with the Octoberfest, then went IPA and Munich Dark. All Harpoon, all tasty.

There weren’t too many people over the age of about 30, and the ones that were really stood out, like “who brought their dad?” Of course, there were the hippie-dippies who always think it’s awesome to bring their baby to the brewery, and a lot of girls who were actively on the prowl. Not always nice looking girls, but those bloated late-twenty-somethings who stagger along clutching their purse and their beer realizing that all their friends are getting married, and they’d better do something quick, so why not go to the beer festival and find a boy-man to pounce on? Great people-watching fodder, which is what the Lady Friend and I mostly did while consuming our delectable drinkables.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, a couple raindrops fell and sent the crowd into a noticeable level of apprehension; there were several large tents set up for the bands and beer, but the majority of the patrons milled around outside. No way they would all fit under shelter should the skies open up. The rain held off, however, and we left, heading over to Drink, despite the Lady Friend’s determined efforts to ruin my surprise plans. After a short wait (there’s ALWAYS a wait, though the overdressed cougars in line ahead of us kept bitching about their dinner reservations and left, despite the fact that we only waited about 10 mins or so) we sat right at the bar and started the magic. The Lady had a Mojito, and claims it was the best one she ever had, while I went with a variation on the whiskey sour called a Tennessee, which uses maraschino liqueur in place of simple syrup. A bit drier than a normal sour, but excellent.

LF needed food, so we pretty much called it a night at that point, though I could have stayed at Drink for hours, playing with different recipes. Back to SFHQ for the night. Gute nacht, eichhörnchen furzt!

Modern Drunkard Magazine’s articleThe 86 Rules of Boozing, by Frank Kelly Rich states:

The Rule 37 series of posts chronicle my attempts to accomplish this feat every week. For the recipes of R37s past, click the Htf do I make these drinks? tab.


This was a long-awaited cocktail night, after another long, long week of suckiness. I opted out of my traditional payday liquor store visit, and headed straight for Squirrel Farts HQ: the Cocktail Cave and Beer Burrow. Some light tidying was necessary to put the Hobbit Hole into order, and I had a pair of Sidecars while waiting for the Lady Friend to arrive. Note: there are two versions of the Sidecar, the French school and the English school. I prefer mine in the French style, with equal parts brandy (or cognac), triple sec (or Cointreu/ Grand Marnier) and fresh lemon juice. However, other recipes greatly increase the amount of brandy, as in the English style, which starts at 2:1:1 and climbs from there. I’ve seen suggestions for 8 parts brandy, which is just ridiculous. At that point you’re having a brandy with a dash of juice in it.

The Lady Friend eventually arrived, and had a freshly prepared and chilled Sidecar waiting for her. From there, we went to Fog Cutters, using Robert “Drinkboy” Hess’s recipe (click for a video), though we both found it too lime-tart, and not as sweet as a tiki-style drink is usually expected to be.

With her Rule 37 requirement met, the Lady Friend ventured off into tequila land leaving me to fend for myself, wondering what to make. Strangely, I had felt the hankering for some red wine on Thursday night, perplexing the Lady Friend, as wine and I don’t hang out very often, and generally not willingly at that. So, I had an open bottle of merlot sitting around, wondering what I could make with it. It was a 2008 Bogle merlot, and clocked in at a boozy 13.8% abv with quite a bit of dark fruitiness, though I could both smell and taste the tinge of medicinal alcohol. A thought had occurred to me while drinking the wine, wondering if it would mix well with a stout. I did some digging on the web to see if this had been done before. One result was for a drink called the Brutal Hammer, a 50/50 mixture of red wine and vodka, though that wasn’t what I was looking for, or ever feel the desire to try. A couple people suggested mixing a strong Cabernet with a nice chocolaty stout or porter, and I did consider cracking my Bear Republic Big Bear Stout bomber for the experiment. However, the Bogle wasn’t that powerful flavor-wise, and I recalled the can of good ol’ Guinness lurking in the fridge, nearly forgotten after our rounds of Black Velvets.

Yikes. I poured about 1.5oz of the merlot into a pint glass and topped with the Guinness. Hmmm. Not bad, but didn’t really taste the wine coming through. So I dumped in another ounce. Now things were shaping up. I decided to call it the Black Plague, since it had the dark Guinness and the blood red wine mixed together. As near as I can tell, no one’s taken that name so far, though there are a number of variations of drinks called “the Black Death.”



The Black Plague

- 2.5 oz red wine (I used a 2008 Bogle merlot)
- 12 oz stout or porter (A can of Guinness went into this one)

Um. Pour in the wine, then the Guinness.
Or reverse that.
Either one.


So, even though it looks like death, it’s pretty tasty. The fruitiness of the wine plays nicely with the roasted tones of the stout. I’m sure this mixture has infinite variables, with different wines, different beers, and different ratios according to taste. I thought it was pretty good with this mixture, but neither the merlot, nor the Guinness, had an overpowering taste, so they blended well. The wine helped dilute the darkness of the stout and bring out a nice, deep red coloration, as well as tinting the foamy head a reddish tan.
It sounds scary, but works out quite nicely. Give it a whirl.

This rainy Monday night was just begging for a big beer bomber to bubble in my belly.

Despite the fact that I hadn’t made my usual stop to the liquor store recently, I still had a stash of some notable craft bombers. I had made up my mind some time in the afternoon that the evening would call forth Avery Brewing’s DuganA, a double/Imperial IPA (depending on who you ask).


I first heard about this brew on a podcast, where they tend to ramble off onto tangents of Big Beers. They’ll start talking about gin in the 1800s and wind up in a barleywine discussion. Not that it’s a bad thing. So, among other notable names, there was a passing reference to Avery DuganA. I’ve become an occasional fan of Avery’s Maharaja double/Imperial/triple IPA, which is a malt bomb damn near a barleywine. It’s also incredibly hoppy, and quite an experience. The Lady Friend and I shared one I had stashed in the back of the fridge last weekend, and it’s a powerhouse.

DuganA was described in the podcast as a halfway point between Avery’s IPA (an extremely delicious tipple) and the Maharaja. The IPA is described as American style, and to me, it has a lot of the sweetness of the West Coast fashion. The Maharaja is just otherworldly. So, there was no other choice: time to crack the bomber and give it a taste.

After a pour into a pint glass, I had some trouble getting much aroma out of it. It’s not that it wasn’t there… it’s just that maybe I expected a lot more out of an ImpIPA. What I did get was some sweet, tree fruit, like nectarine and/or grapefruit. There’s a maltiness reminiscent of the Maharaja. The final thought? Fresh pencil erasers wrapped in a Fruit Roll-Up.

As for the taste… wow. The first thing that hit my tongue was hay. No, seriously, hay. A dried grassiness, with some wood, stick, or sawdust. A very strange start. The hop quickly followed, more bitter than expected from the nose, and it bit on the back sides of the tongue. A malt syrup sweetness oozed in to finish, and slowly sluffed down the throat leaving the hop bitter to linger a bit and take it’s time loitering around.

Very… interesting. Not at all what I had expected. It’s a bit maltier than I thought, and I certainly see the parallels with the Maharaja. On the other hand, there’s a distinct hop bitter with a lovely (if subdued) aroma that makes the standard IPA presence known. Avery seems to be doing what more and more car manufacturers have adopted: an entry level product, a top-of-the-line showcase, and now, one designed to be exactly between the two. If the IPA is a Porsche Boxster, and the Maharaja is the 911 Turbo, then DuganA is the Cayman S… it could be more powerful, but it’s engineered to be a mid-level product, and not steal the limelight of the flagship.

However, like the Cayman, it’s an amazing product. So much more than the entry-level, but with a little tweaking, could take on the big boys. Put this one on your wishlist.