Mission, Value, Core

I refuse to dance like no one’s watching.

I will, instead, dance like everyone’s watching and saying to each other, “Damn, girl’s got some MOVES.”

Tell ‘em how it’s done, Madhuri.

Holiday Ale Festival Beer Brunch wrapup

I have a couple stories I like to tell about me and Portland and beer. One of them is how, five short weeks after I moved to Portland, I was driving around in a bitter funk and not entirely certain I was going to make it as an Oregonian. I saw a bunch of tents set up by the river, and decided to find a place to park and investigate. I bought a tasting mug and five tickets (that being the extent I thought I could stretch my meagre temp office worker salary). After my first sip of a beer that has been lost to memory, I realised that I would do very well here. Very well, indeed. And that was my first OBF.

Even after that introduction, it wasn’t until I had a higher paying (temp) job and the winter beers started hitting the shelves that I really began exploring the breadth and depth of Beervana. The Holiday Ale Festival 2005 was the first time I volunteered for a brew festival, back when it was a cash bar and the volunteers pouring split the tips.

There have been changes, of course, over the years, but I always have fun. This year? No exception. Even with the price hike from $35 to $45 for the Beer Brunch, it was fantastic.

One change I really liked this year was the smaller size, and the ushers(? that’s what we’d call them at church) who ensured every seat was filled starting from the back forward. One change I hated this year was that the tickets used for beer at the brunch were not good in the main tent.

Now, on to the important part: BEER!

The gentlemen manning the taps said that Preston recommended the Cascade Brewing Company Golden Spiced Blonde as a starter, and Preston? Is frickin’ awesome, so I took that recommendation. Very nice, light, slightly citrusy beer. Good thing to sip on an empty stomach on a Sunday morning– What? Don’t judge me, I was sipping it in line for the fantastic pastries and nibbles and one of the most awesome breakfast croissant-sammiches I’ve had in my life.

Being the nontraditional taster that I am (read: too damn ADD to follow the usual lighter to darker tasting pa—OOOH A BIRDIE!) I next went for the Mikkeller Beer Geek Brunch. Because I liked the label. Super-dark beer, and it smelled like all the good things I like (chocolate, coffee, roasted malt), but it hits the tastebuds like cold coffee liberally laced with bourbon. I liked it, but it was a shock to the senses in the morning, I tell you what. Others around me weren’t all that fond of it. Of course, as I’m writing this now and looking at the crib sheet from the brunch itself, now I realise this is the one made with that civet-cat-crapped-coffee!

Going with my “ooh, PRETTY!” method of beer selection, I got the Dogfish Head Craft Brewery Black and Blue next. Fizzy, fruity smell, and a fizzy, fruity taste. I had several pours of this during the brunch, which is weird since I usually don’t go for the fruit beers.

At this point most everyone around me had gone for the Cascade Brewing Company Cascade Apricot Ale (2008), but I remembered I HATED this one the last time I tried it, so I skipped it. I just don’t do sour too well, and the faces the folks around me were making? Yeah, this puppy was way sour.

And now it was noon, and they popped the top on the big bottle of the Tripel? I think? I am a bad person because I took no notes no what the heck it was. It was— okay. Not too thrilling. I went back to the taps and got a Brasserie Dupont Avec Les Bons Voeux 2008, which was probably my second-favorite beer of the brunch. It had wonderful flavors that played across the tongue bla bla bla whatevs, basically, this beer was awesome and I weep for you who didn’t get to try it. Seriously.

I also weep for those of you who didn’t get any of the Unibroue La Fin du Monde, which was brewed with a champagne yeast (I think Preston said what kind but I was kind of far back and couldn’t hear very well, also, see above re: v. v. bad person who didn’t take notes).

It. Was. Fabulous. Fantastic. Fizzy. Another positive adjective that starts with F. It was the kind of beer where small groups of people stood around looking into the bottom of their mugs, with little bits of foam still clinging to the sides, and saying to each other, “That was a good beer.”

Question—

Why can’t I find any Widmer Brrr around here? That is my favorite beer of the season and I haven’t spotted it in any shops (and trust me, I’ve been looking!)

*goes back to drinking Bridgeport Ebenezer*

*Looks at her blog* Where the hell is the 1000 word essay on the Beer Brunch? *checks dashboard* Why is it still a draft?!? GRRR! COME ON, WORDPRESS!

*runs off to the back room of the blog to drag said post out into the open*

(ETA: FOUND IT! Am drinking it! I am a happy panda.)

Christmas Creep, or Your Liturgy Lesson For The Day

I’ve been horribly sick the last four days (not the ‘flu, but some equally devastating upper respiratory infection), so I’m just now catching up on a backlog of blogs.

And a lot of them are running “12 Days of Christmas” specials.

Which is making my head hurt, because I keep banging it on my desk.

Here’s the deal, people. According to the Liturgical Calendar, the one that runs liturgical churches (i.e., has a set playlist for every week, unlike nonliturgical churches which are more like hitting shuffle), we are in the Advent season. Advent is a penitential time, and is in fact referred to by Eastern Orthodox churches as ‘Little Lent’. I had a preacher once refer to it as a ‘time of longing’, which has also stuck with me as being true.

The Christmas season begins on Dec. 25th, and runs until January 5th. Which, as those of you who are good at math have now figured out, is 12 days.

That’s right. The 12 Days of Christmas don’t start until AFTER CHRISTMAS. Talk about Christmas creep! You’re starting way too early! KNOCK IT OFF! It’s driving me mad!

(Advanced class: There is a series of seven antiphons (or responses) used in my tradition for the Magnificat on the seven days prior to Christmas Eve called the ‘O Antiphons‘, which most people are familiar with as they were adapted in reverse order to the traditional hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”.)

27F off the back porch.

This kind of frigid, windy, downright COLD weather always makes me crave ice cream.

What? Why are you looking at me like that?

Holiday Ale Festival, or the problem with being a smartypants

So, the Holiday Ale Festival opened today. And I, being the smartypants I am, thought, “Hey! Even though they’ve hiked the price from $35 to $45 this year for the Beer Brunch, I had a helluva lot of fun last year and I will go to the Beer Brunch on Sunday again!” And then I pat myself on the back and make plans to not be a moron like last year and drive downtown, but instead take the bus. Because I? Am a smartypants!

What I didn’t count on is having to sit through the next four days of stories (and drunken texts!) about what everyone’s drinking down at the Holiday Ale Festival.

DAMNIT!

(I should also mention I picked up a six pack of Sierra Nevada Celebration from New Seasons last night, and boy howdy, that bastard’s got one hell of a hop kick and not in a fun, tasty kind of way. I think at least half of ‘em are going to have a time-out in the cellar until next year)

(ETA: oddly enough, a lot of the kick-in-the-teeth hops are mitigated by not drinking the damn thing right out of the fridge.)

Do not touch my hair.

No, seriously. Do NOT touch my hair.

My hair is not here for you to pet. I am glad to hear it looks nice and soft today. But keep your ever-lovin’ grubby mitts off my hair.

Especially if you do not know me. I mean, seriously, what makes you think that because you are on the same bus as me, you have carte blanche to pet my hair? No, no way, nuh uh, knock it off, and dude? Totally creepy. Ugh. You’re the reason all the women on this bus wear hats.

And double especially if you do know me. Yes, pigtails are cute, but I do not want you to pull them and make a little “deet-deet-deet!” noise. And maybe my hair is pulled up in a french twist, but that doesn’t mean you need to touch the twist to reassure yourself that I haven’t cut all my hair off.

There are a few occasions where I will let you touch my hair. A very few occasions. And you need to ask first. So, in conclusion, DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR.

LOGIC!

Jonathan Coulton looks like my dad when he was younger, was in the same industry as my dad, and apparently has the same birthday as my dad.

Therefore, using the logic from those four years of college, Jonathan Coulton is my dad traveling forwards in time to make enough money to put me through school.

Yep. That’s it exactly.

Happy Birthday, Daddy.

…

(And JoCo.)

Why I Spend So Much Time at the Oregon Food Bank

Wednesday night (yes, the night before Thanksgiving) at 6pm I presented myself at the Oregon Food Bank to pack pasta into 2lb bags. Our shift packed 9600 lbs, which translates to 7384 meals, which divided by the number of volunteers means I packed 107 meals for my neighbors in Oregon. All the while rockin’ a sexy plastic apron and hairnet.

Front page of the Sunday NYT (which my new favorite blog, Obama Foodorama pointed out) opens with the cold, hard fact that 1 in 8 adults living in the US is on food stamps, and 1 in 4 children.

Two hours out of my month, and I fed 107 people.

Oh, yes, the link to the OFB volunteer signup page is right here. If you’re not in Oregon, find your local food bank here.

Things I am Thankful For

- My awesome health. Yeah, sure, I pull muscles in my butt on a regular basis, but that’s usually from dancing or, erm, walking face-first into a parked minivan.

- Living in Beervana.

- John Barrowman dancing in shiny pants.

BONUS THING I AM THANKFUL FOR: YouTube’s related video feature, because without it, I would have never found this awesome cover of “Single Ladies” by an Australian country-western group.