Dude, Where's Your Car?

Greg and his beautiful wife April enjoyed the
Kentucky Derby just one week prior to our high
school reunion on May 14. Now the difference
between these two and me is that when they
wear all white, they look both sophisticated and
elegant whereas I would look like a wayward
pimp from Bogota. They wear it well, these two

"Where's your car?" Cheesy asked me as we connected at our mini high school reunion at Sixth Line Pub on May 14. Uhhh, car? Longtime best friend Dave Schaus and I arrived via taxi, knowing that the night would be filled with various and sundry alcohol treats as old friendships were renewed.

Turns out that Cheesy, aka Greg Cheesewright, had a trunk full of swag for me that he brought up from his suburban enclave of Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan, a comfy community just outside of Detroit. And when I say a trunk full, I mean it was basically a Motor City Brewing Works bonanza - a 15-pack of their Ghettoblaster Detroit-Style Mild Ale, a mixed 12-pack of the brewery's finest, three of the brewery's T-Shirts and a healthy handful of glassware. Now fortunately, Dave's girlfriend, Jo, showed up late in the evening and Dave and Cheesy were able to do a trunk-to-trunk transfer in the wee hours. "What was all that stuff?" Dave asked me the following morning. "It weighed a ton!" Like I said, Cheesy came armed with heavy-duty swag, emphasis on the heavy.

Despite being Canadian, Cheesy wears his Detroit Pride on his sleeve. Even when the city went bankrupt in 2013, he saw it as a glorious opportunity to revitalize because, well, there was only one direction to go from there. And slowly, it would seem the city is lifting itself up by the boot-straps. Having civic cheerleaders like the long-time Red Wings fan Cheesy, well, that can only help.

John Linardos, shown here in a Jacob Lewkow
photo for the Detroit Metro-Times, frets that his
neighbourhood might be going a little too posh
but that he prefers that to the 1994 bad old days

Indeed, if there is one business owner that has seen that a neighbourhood can turn around, it's Motor City Brewing Works' head honcho John Linardos. When he created the brewery in the city's rough-around-the-edges Cass Corridor (Midtown) back in 1994, the scenery was a little different. As he told the Detroit Metro-Times in a 2015 interview, directly across the street from the brewery was fertile ground for johns to connect with hookers. "It was nuts. In the last three, four years, the change has been really dramatic. And now we're (local business owners) all just kind of like, 'What the f**k?' There's dog bowls with plumbed-in water on the sidewalk."

"We've got the high-end retailers coming in and we've kind of gone from zero to 100," he told the paper. But he remembers a time not so long ago when the brewery's horseshoe bar would play host nightly to "regulars and... six or seven people from the burbs or the outside neighbourhood... and they all would be talking. There were amazing conversations. Of course, our lights would get turned off the following morning because we hadn't paid the bills. You know, looking back on it, even then, a lot of us knew that was a special time."

While I am used to session ales that try to still pop with
west coast hops, the Ghettoblaster Detroit-Style Mild
Ale is all British as it wallops you with strong malts.

But the local economic boom came as a fiscal boon for Linardos as in 2014, some 20 years after its inception, the brewery finally paid off all liabilities and became profitable. So the brewery owner was embracing the change "because it also comes with streetlights and people walking all over the place on a Sunday instead of tumbleweeds blowing down the street."

However, I just noticed it's Beer O'Clock at Donny's Bar and Grill which means it's time to stop talking about the brewery and instead, tip the glasses. As hard as it may be to believe, Cheesy's swag sat with me for a full week before I started trying them all. The reason was simply this. My fridge was full of beer (with a smattering of edibles, mostly cheese) and there was simply no room in the Inn. As problems goes, file this under "Not A..." In the end, that timed out well because the following weekend, my son and I drove over to Dave's for a May 24th Weekend barbeque and if you're going to try new beers, it doesn't hurt to enjoy them with a Best Bud Feast Fit For Kings.

Cheesy had warned me that the brewery's flagship ale, Ghettoblaster, was, on occasion, a tough find due to its popularity. That said, he scored me a 15-pack of cans nonetheless.

Naturally, a bottle of their India Pale Ale was
going to be my first try from the Mix-12 Variety
Pack from the brewery. Six different styles were
jammed into that pack, something for everyone.

Okay, so let's set the table here. It's 1994 and there are no iPods, hence the ghettoblaster being the favourite instrument of sharing your music with the rest of the neighbourhood. At 3.8%, it's a session ale but this was also long before craft brewers started west-coast hopping them up the ass-end. And because of that low ABV, it (along with single bottles of the Honey Porter and India Pale Ale) was making the trip to Dave and Jo's because this Daddy had to get behind the wheel.

Now my penchant for hops is well-documented but it's beers like this that are really beginning to fan my appreciation for a hop-light, well-malted brew. I expected at 3.8% that this offering might be a little thin. I was more than a little wrong. For starters, look at the deep colour of that bad boy. This ain't Bud Lite. On the nose, this is dark fruit (plum with some nut) while on the tongue, it's surprisingly thick and rich. I can see why it can be tough to find. This is a beer reflective of the time period it was created - simpler and yet hard-nosed and a little bit raucous. Also quite delicious.

Naturally, my first try from the Mix-12 Variety Pack was their India Pale Ale because, well, have we met? Using Warrior, Columbus and Simcoe hops, this 7%, 85 IBU (international bitterness units) came with a bit of a surprise - a thin layer of sediment on the bottom of the bottle. Once upon a time, that would have sent me screaming.

A moment caught in time. Dave snapped this picture
at the barbeque as I eyeballed that tasty Honey Porter
while at the same time, inhaling deadly carcinogens.

Not so much these days. Despite the high IBU, this one is a British-west coast hybrid, selectively blending those hops with some deeply malted barley. That meant it was both bready and grapefruit on the nose while both pine and grassy on the tongue. A really nice hybrid.

The Honey Porter came with a bit of a "give your head a shake" moment for me. Dave, who favours his beloved vodka and soda over beers, was there when I opened it in the kitchen. I gave it the traditional sniff test and then sampled it. "This is a nice porter but I'm not getting the honey. Some real sweetness, though." Dave looked at me like he was about to staple a "vacant" sign on my forehead and waited for me to put two-and-two together. I realized after a couple of seconds, "Oh right, the sweetness is the honey!" Pretty sure the reason Dave has hung with me all these years is that he knows he will always be considered "the smart one."

Now Dave posted the above back-deck picture of me, staring at that Honey Porter and noted, "A man contemplating? No, merely enjoying a dart and a beer." However, our friend Karen interjected that it looked more like me thinking about what I was gonna to write about this beer. I know that look all too well. Though joking, Karen was bang-on.

Well, well, well, what do we have here? In the case of the
Motor City Brewing Works' Mix-12 pack, we have the
Jewel of the Nile. This Belgium Tripel was outstanding.

(As well, she saw me on the dance floor a week prior and can confirm that all of my dance moves come from the paternity test episodes of Maury.) So that Honey Porter, let's go there. On the nose, a bit smoky with some coffee but on the tongue, the sweetness rolls out and is blended with some chocolate overtones. At 5.2%, this is a nice sessionable dark brew.

The Mix-12 obviously has the obligatory lager and ale and in this case, it's their Bohemian Lager and Nut Brown Ale. The 5.2% lager is their safe cross-over gateway beer, the one a non-craft drinker could sample when visiting for the first time. Grassy on the nose, smooth but light on the tongue. Safe territory. Pretty much the same story for the brown ale, though a considerable step up from the lager (which is surprising for me to say because I am not a fan of the style.) But credit where credit is due, this is a decent example of a brown ale with a bit of panache. No brown blandness here, this 4.2% offering, just like the Ghettoblaster, offers up some above-average taste for a low-ABV beer. Some nut and chocolate on the nose with an ample dollop of roastiness on the tongue. I wouldn't be surprised if a novice confused this with their porter (minus the honey, which is from Michigan. Good on ya, mates!)

While brewing with Spruce Tips was probably a Scottish thing at first,
now more North American craft brewers are using this technique to
create some extraordinary ales. This was deep, delicious and full-bodied.

Okay, that's two strong beers first, two decent beers after that so where does that leave us? That would be with the two exceptional specialty beers in this package - the Belgian Style Tripel and the Winter Ale.

Let's call the Tripel the queen of the mix and the Winter Ale the king. I'll let you decide which rank is higher but based on the fact you pitched both the British tax rules and their crappy tea into Boston Harbour back in 1773, I suspect you care little for or about the British monarchy. Again, good on ya, mates! Also, why am I talking like an Australian? I mean, Australia was founded by exiled British criminals while Canada was founded by politicians. Okay, fine, pretty much the same thing, I suppose. Except I'd probably opt for the criminals.

What's a Canadian boy do when he relocates to the
United States? Why, he coaches Junior Hockey, of
course. That's Cheesy behind the bench doing that.

Okay, that Belgian Style Tripel... wow. This might be one of the best examples of this can-be-very-tricky style that I had outside of actual Belgian products. Their brewers nailed this bad boy to the door. And at 9.2%, this should be nailing you to a wall as well but it doesn't. (Well, until you try to stand up.) But that high ABV is not in the least discernible which means they did this oh-so-very-right. Lovely fruits on the nose, very notably apricot (it really jumps to the fore) with some light spiciness and more fruit (again, mostly apricot with some apple) on the tongue. And it lingers for a while. Just hanging around on your tongue... waiting for the next sip or hell, perhaps encouraging it. This is a first-class beer no ifs, ands or buts.

Which brings us to their second Best In Class - the Winter Ale. I can't compare the two, simply because they are radically different styles but man, I enjoyed the hell out of this one, too. Almost as strong at 8.8%, they used Michigan Spruce Tips (yes, from the trees - call it a salute to Arbour Day) in the process, giving this "barley wine style ale" some deep woodiness and dark fruits (notably plum) on the nose and real deep warmth and full body on the tongue.

If you are in Detroit and you don't visit this place,
well, then a plague on your crops! And your houses!
And your ancestors! Okay, that's going too far, eh?

I had this with a chicken dinner but man, this heavy ale belongs with red meat. So damn good.

But before I wind this down, I should point out that Cheesy brought me more than just beer and related products. You see, twice a year, coffee and doughnut giant Tim Horton's does something called "Roll Up The Rim" across Canada and in the northern states whereby you actually roll up the cup's rim, looking for prizes. You can win free doughnuts, coffee, gift cards right up to new vehicles. Hugely popular. On Facebook (and other social media), I posted a couple of "Please Play Again" rims to show my losing streak from the previous round was continuing on unfettered. Cheesy posted his from one week - five free doughnuts and coffee and a $100 gift card. He presented me with that gift card at the reunion so I could, I dunno, feel better about my beloved Timmie's. Except because he won his in Detroit, it was in American dollars, which we didn't know. Given the weakness of the Canuck Buck, the first time I used it, the machine informed me I still had $132 left... on my $100 gift card. To put that in Canadian vernacular, that's a beauty, eh? So once again, thank you to Cheesy, thank you to Motor City Brewing Works (awesome name, by the way) and thank you to alcohol for being Nature's cheaper, liquid version of Photoshop. Next up with the winners at the Canadian Brewing Awards in a couple of day but guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here! Until next time, I remain...

All those years ago become now again

Me and my high school sweetheart, Chris, some 38 years
later. The fact is if you found a shot of us from 38 years
ago, I would still have a beer in front of me. It just would
not be a GOOD beer. It's nice to see some things change.
And then other things, like Christine's beauty, that do not.

This was the third White Oaks Secondary School Reunion Party that I've been to in a year. You see, last year, our Oakville (Ontario) high school was meant to have its big 50th Anniversary celebration as it opened in 1965. But the threat of a teachers' strike (which never happened) shut down the big party. Fortunately, one of our classmates, Sandi, had already organized a separate party at the Sixth Line Pub and we had our own damn reunion. She saw that the big Gala Dinner was $80/plate and said, "Look, do we really want to pay 80 bucks to sit at tables with 80s, 90s and 2000s graduates that we don't even know?" Being as we all graduated in the late-70s, we responded with a resounding "Hell no! But we're sure they're very nice." So Sandi simply organized our far superior bash, instead. Frankly, it made more sense. We probably spent far more time back then in the Oakville pubs than our actual classes so why not now? And it was jam-packed and crazy-ass fun.

Then we had another, again organized by Sandi, just before Christmas - like, the weekend before - so while it wasn't quite as well attended, we still had a blast. We made sure to seriously up our booze intake so that my favourite Oakville bar (hey, Martha, zup?) didn't suffer at the till. If you need a group to really drink, you've come to the right people.

At the Christmas reunion, Bill, left, kept things to his
usual calm collected self. But my best buddy, Dave, on
the right? Look at him! He's a madman! Lock him up!!!

And then last Saturday, one week ago today, we did it all over. But my best friend, Dave, well, he wasn't content to do everything in just one night. To that end, he arranged for the both of us to get together with high school friends Leanne, coming in from Calgary and Christine, flying in from Santa Barbara, California on the Friday night. I was thrilled, after all these years, to see them both again but also a little nervous. You see, Chris was my high school sweetheart (that's good) but I couldn't remember how things ended between us (that's bad.) Fearing the worst, I asked Dave if he recalled. Nope, not a clue. Like me, he's been through marriages and a healthy handful of relationships since and well, over the years, it does get hard to keep track of everything. Not stumbling over our own childrens' names is a good day. So Dave did me a pretty big solid. While I was working, he took the ladies and his own lady, Joann, to The Keg and after that, we all met up at Burlington's Rib Eye Jack's Ale House. He gave me home field advantage. That's my safe place, my comfort zone. And he knows that.

See that pretty lady on the right? That would
be Sandi. She organizes all these awesome
high school reunion parties. The pretty one
on the left would be Karen. She helps Sandi.
The one in the middle? Some scuzbag who
wandered in off the street because of thirst.

In the end, the fretful concern (like most concerns) was all for naught as when we reunited, I got a hug from Chris that could crush a Smart Car. (Granted, squirrels can actually T-bone those Tonka toys but...) Clearly, as I remembered her with genuine love and affection, she did likewise with me. It's funny. The brain is a powerful organ, often times shutting out old memories, usually to make room for new ones. But with a single glance, a pretty smile and a killer hug, the heart takes over and yells, "Hey, I remember this!" And so the Night Before The Big Night went on with old stories, fond memories and far too many laughs. Now before we get to the Big Night, let me clear up one thing. Dave swears we used to call Leanne "Lamby". We didn't. Her nickname was Lanny, after late-70s Toronto Maple Leaf star Lanny McDonald. Hell, I remember extending that and calling her Lanny McDin-Dins. (My now-legendary nickname prowess was not finely-honed at the time, resulting, no doubt, in some horrific monickers. But let me check with my old high school buds, Arseface and StankButt to confirm.)

So let's move on to the Main Event on Saturday night, shall we? (At this point, you, the reader, have little choice. Well, I suppose you could stop but you've already registered a blog hit so you may as well keep going.) I gotta be honest. I was wondering how Sandi could top last year's and yet, somehow she managed. I'll get back to Sandi in a brief while but suffice it to say, I have personally applied for her sainthood with the Vatican and if the Pope's initial reaction of "Why are you in my bathroom?" is any indication, she's a lock.

Well, ain't this another blast from the past? Dave
and Leanne, aka Lanny, not Lamby, were also old
high school sweethearts reunited at the big bash.

When Dave and I showed up in a cab just before 6 pm, the bar was a ghost-town. (Within the hour, as people poured in, you couldn't move in there.) But the Browne brothers, Dave and Murray, landed there ahead of us and were left wondering if they were in the right locale. Now Dave, aka Brownie, and I fell a year behind the others because in Grade 12, I was shipped off to a private school that I bailed on by Christmas and had to repeat Grade 12 at WOSS. And Brownie spent a year in jail for selling counterfeit Led Zeppelin concert tickets. (He'll deny this but it's a better story than the truth, which I honestly forget.) In later years, he became my first Beer Store boss. He was a horrible friend and worse boss. Okay, no. The truth is we were as thick as thieves (and usually drunk as skunks) in Grade 13 and I don't remember how he was as a boss because I've never really paid attention to any of my bosses ever. He was probably okay.

And so the night begun. Arriving soon would be Bill and Norma, that high school couple that's been locked at the lips since Grade 9. These two are a rarity. Still together after all these years with 87 grown sons. Or four. My Math kinda sucks. We remember Bill and his brother Walter in full costume, performing incredible gravity-defying routines with a Ukrainian dance troupe back in the day and geez, after all these years, that man is still pretty fly for a white guy on the floor.

When Bill hits the dance floor, he always brings his
jazz hands with him. As a youth, Bill performed in a
Ukrainian dance troupe that we used to pay to watch.
Granted, the venues also came with well-stocked bars

But every reunion has many "Do you remember when you...?" moments and this time around, my favourite, which I had completely forgotten, was provided by former classmate Sharon. She recalled the time that one of our fellow students got up in class to share her Jehovah Witness beliefs with us. Now frankly, I had no idea what that religion was because, well, none of them had knocked on my front door at that point to tell me. As Sharon recalls, we all listened patiently while she explained how great her religion was. At least, that is, until she got to the part where a "rocket ship will carry us all to Heaven." After a millisecond of silence, it seems I blurted out, "That's insane!" I would like to think my outburst had something to do with a working knowledge of the price of rocket fuel and wasn't just me being youthfully crass and intolerant. In retrospect, that seems unlikely. I would also like to say it was the last time ever I embarrassed my classmates but again, most unlikely. Oh, well.

While our favourite twins, Dennis and Danny, were there to open the evening's music, it was, in fact, with their younger sister, Shelagh, that I got to play out my own "Do you remember when you...?" moment. And it all revolved around an old high school musical.

With older brother Dennis manning the keyboard,
Shelagh got up and blew us away with her rendition
of Carole King's classic, "It's Too Late Baby." As we
all learned that evening, it is never too late to party.

Shelagh was in Grade 9 while I was in Grade 11 when we both joined the cast of a musical called "Rock and Roll." Billed as a modern American stage production that no one had ever seen or has heard about since, it was set in the late-1950s at the birth of, well, rock and roll. As such, it featured lots of singing and dancing. Shelagh and I were paired up as a dance team. I reminded Shelagh of how nicely she made a point of teasing me about what a crappy dancer I was after each rehearsal. (Had they let me down a six-pack before each rehearsal, a very different story.) "Oh great," she winced, not remembering that at all, "so I was a bitch." Actually, no, she was quite sweet and like her brothers, very funny. Fortunately, she noted, at least we were only extras. Well, no, I said, actually I had a speaking part, being cast as one of the three jocks. If you went through high school with me, the irony of that just kicked you in the nuts. "Oh, great," she noted, "so I couldn't act, either." Again, not true. I reminded her as she played a very vocal and ardent teenage admirer of the lead in the following year's "Bye Bye Birdie."

Look at this man! I said, look at him!! Is
he not a magnificent beast? Why, yes, he
mostly certainly is! Hey, Bob, what's up?

Granted, her own brother, Dennis, played the lead role and she had to pretend to be filled with teenage lust for him. Suffice it to say, no rocket ship to Heaven for these twisted siblings.

While the Sixth Line Pub and Sports Bar will never be confused with a craft beer bar, I applaud owner Martha for having a ready supply of decent ales on tap, including one of my foreign favourites, Samuel Adams Boston Lager. Now on a night where you are surrounded by high school friends and reliving fond memories, it seems that sometimes you drink like you did in high school. Which is to say, well beyond excessively. At this point, I should thank the Boston Beer Company for keeping that lager at a reasonable 5% because given the number I had, I remembered all too well the next morning that no, we are no longer in high school. Fortunately, the high-ABV craft beers I drink and write about now can shield me from even copious amounts of a 5% lager. Okay, to a degree. Well, I remember the whole night so that's a start.

Big Bob Sherwood, magnificent beast that he is, kept the music blasting well into the night with the band Project 360. Whenever a song calls for a strong, gravelly voice (think ZZ Top), the band's stalwart lead singer Ted (outstanding rock voice) relinquishes the mic to our man Bob. Now if you went to school with him (and by extension, partied with him), you will remember Bob less for his music and more for his cartooning skills. His bang-on and hilarious caricatures littered our yearbook over that span. In fact, he is so wickedly proficient at it that it has become a career for him.

Sandi gets a hug from Murray, aka, Murr The
Grrr. Like I said, we really sucked at nicknames
way back then. But it was really great to see Grrr.

Most of Halton knows Cartoon Bob and for a pleasant change from his youth, it's not just the police.

And Bob's band showed they really remembered high school by ending the night with a slow song. Bill and Ingrid, who connected as a new couple at last summer's bash, were certainly up there. Bill and Norma, who showed us all these many years how real romance is done properly, were also up there. I looked over and saw former sweethearts Dave and Leanne up together for a last dance. And then, well... then there was me and Chris. Never mind a Smart Car. We were hugging so tight, we could have crushed a Cadillac. In fact, it was such a great (and now unforgettable) moment that when the song ended, I told her I didn't want to let go. And didn't for a while.
Brain: Oh, please tell me you didn't just say that.
Heart: Yes, I did. Shut up, thought potato. I'm in charge now!
Samuel Adams Lager: I helped.

So what do you say to the wonderful woman who pulled all this together? The woman who helped us all relive old memories, create fresh new ones and is, to every single one of us, the Spirit of WOSS. I mean, I suppose we could serenade her with a rousing, off-key rendition of "To Sir, With Love." But that doesn't work because she's not Sidney Poitier.

Ahh yes, the scene of the crime. I tell you
something - the Sixth Line Pub definitely
holds a special place in our hearts these
days after three big WOSS reunions there.

And so it becomes ever more tricky to applaud Sandi Richardson for her unselfish time, tireless efforts and ceaseless dedication. So many of us have praised her so often over the past year and particularly after last weekend, that there's probably no new words to use she hasn't already heard. But, well, I'm an idiot so let me try anyway.

They say that when you are gone, you will not be remembered by the job you had, the money you made or the car you drove. No, you will be remembered by how you made people feel. Sandi, once again, you made us all feel like we were back in high school. Yeah, sure, this time, we were skipping class and going straight to the party at the pub. But then, for many of us, that's not all different than high school. (The Two Dave's will confirm this.) You reconnect us with old friends and old flames. We don't know what you drive, how much you make or even your address. But while you still have many years left ahead of you, your lasting legacy will always be how you make us feel. Forever young. We can never thank you enough. You are very loved.

Okay, folks, next up, it's back to beer with What Cheesy Brought Me From Detroit, Part Deux (little nod to French class there.) Geezuz, I hit the damn jackpot this time from my man, Greg, when he came to the reunion! Also, if you want to check out Cartoon Bob's skills, click this link: Magnificent Damn Beast! Or book a party at the Sixth Line Pub, click this link: Party On, Martha! But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here. Until next time, I remain...

Old friends and new beers

Pete and I met up after literally decades at the Oakville pub-
restaurant, The 3 Brewers. That's their brewpub Blonde Ale
in Pete's hand while I went straight in for the IPA. Not bad...

It's funny the stuff you remember that others have forgotten. It's even funnier when someone remembers something you did that is seriously drawing a blank in the memory cells.

A week ago, I had the opportunity to catch up with an old neighbourhood kid and subsequent classmate when he flew into Mississauga from Dubai. Now lemme set the table here first. Pete grew up around the corner from me in a nice middle-class neighbourhood in Oakville known as Falgarwood. This was back in the day when everyone left their front doors open, all other neighbourhood mothers were your second mothers if you hurt yourself (as they knew not only who you were but how you did in Grade 3 Math) and we knew it was time to go home for the night when the street-lights came on. So a simpler time like a million years ago. Even as a youth, it was apparent that Pete was a gifted lad, blessed with a mind that could likely outwit even the most cunning of corporate lawyers and political strategists. And I mean, when he was seven.

For the first time ever, the Ontario Brewing
Awards posted the results on a large screen
in Toronto's Great Hall on April 28. From
all accounts, the approach went down well.

Now here's the thing about kid geniuses - they are either very socially-awkward, spouting such gleaming comebacks as "Oh yeah? Well, I could beat you at Chess in five moves!" or they accept their gifts, knowing those around them aren't quite as sharp but also that having friends is much better than the alternative. Also they are aware that they could beat you at Chess in three moves, not five, but they politely keep that to themselves.

Suffice it to say, Pete was the latter and frankly was one of the funniest kids I can remember. So when we met up at The 3 Brewers brewpub in Oakville, it soon devolved into a round of "Do you remember when you...?" With my memory of Pete, it was easy. It was a high school Math class and five of us were called to the front as the class ended. We were being major distractions to others that day so the teacher hauled us up for a post-lesson lecture. We were all being chastised for our behaviour, trying our best to maintain a chagrined expression on our face. Because I was at the far end of the semi-circle, I was the only who could see Pete at the other end. As the teacher rambled on incessantly, Pete started doing this comical little sidestep away from the group as if to distance himself while giving me the stink-eye at the same time. My challenge? To not laugh. Because if I do - and Pete knows this - it takes the heat off the other four and places it squarely on my shoulders. I tried - oh man, I tried - but a little snicker came out that I quickly had to cover up with coughs. I mumbled, "Sorry, sick" and dodged the bullet.

After years of work with the Toronto Fire Service,
Pete has retired and become a consultant. That
eventually lead to a KA-CHING! contract in far-
away Dubai where Pete is served drinks by ladies
on roller-blades and other life luxuries. To honour
his profession, I give you Pete's favourite photo...

But screwing each other over is what guys in high school (and far beyond) do. We're brutal that way. The memory game happened on my Facebook page last week when a former high school classmate, Claire, reminded me of History class antics gone wild. Apparently, we were all acting so badly that our teacher, Bert O'Hearn, finally stormed out in anger. After 30 seconds of stunned silence, I finally piped up (with obvious concern and empathy), "I think he's gone to the Teachers' Crying Room." I honestly don't remember that but frankly, I'm astonished that most of our teachers didn't end up in the looney-bin. As model students go, we were neither. Ironically, O'Hearn ended up being my step-son Ryan's principal many years later and when I introduced myself, he seemed to remember me fondly. Saved again by someone's faulty memory. My sole hope at that moment was that he wouldn't remember my slack-ass high school shenanigans until after Ryan graduated, which appeared to be the case. Another bullet dodged.

However, with another mini-high-school reunion at the Sixth Line Pub in Oakville scheduled for tonight, I'm sure many more "Do you remember when you...?" moments will be popping up in the near future. While White Oaks Secondary School will be celebrating its 50th Anniversary this weekend with countless gala events, we are doing precisely what we did in that high school by ditching class and heading to the nearest pub. Makes sense to me.

Here we have a couple of gold-coloured gold medalists
with the StoneHammer Pilsner and the Thornbury Blue
Mountain Lager. Two very strong patio beers right here!
Which is ironic because here they are. On my damn patio.

Hell, I even caught up with my high school sweetheart after, well, decades last night for the Pre-Party-Party (because you gotta have that) at Rib Eye Jack's Ale House in Burlington. To Kylie, my faithful beer technician who served our crew of thugs, I'm gonna have to invent a new word that means both "thank you" and "I'm sorry." Hmmm, thanksorry!

And with that, let's make the seamless transition from my old friends to my newer ones. That would be Ontario's fine craft breweries and some of the award winners at the 2016 Ontario Brewing Award, held in Toronto on April 28. I looked at a healthy handful of them last time - many among my favourite brewers (yo, Side Launch, looking at you) - so let's keep that ball rolling.

Let's start with a couple of gold medal winners in StoneHammer's Pilsner and Thornbury's Blue Mountain Lager, which both collected gold in, respectively, German Pilsner and Bohemian (Czech-style) Pilsner.

Here's the second and third place finishers in the Ontario
Brewing Awards' Bock category - the Creemore Springs'
urBock and Big Rig's Bock Me Gently. Both excellent!

I quite enjoyed both for their style, which, frankly I don't drink enough of these days. While I am busy chasing IPAs and stouts, I sometimes forget about lagers and pilsners which just a few short years ago was all I drank. Lightly grassy on the nose with a slight sweetness to the smell, on the tongue, they were both exactly what pilsners should be - easy-drinking and smooth. Great patio brews.

The second and third place finishers in the Bock category were a lovely dark step up from traditional lagers. Creemore Springs urBock (one of the brewery's best) and Big Rig's Bock Me Gently (ten points to Gryffindor for the name) are both solid. At 6%, urBock has some nice raisin on the nose and is well-carbonated. The 7% Bock Me Gently has all that with an added hint of spice on the tongue. Both great but I am waiting for any brewery to release a Bock Me, Amadeus. Go ahead. Use the name. My bad-pun genius should be shared, gang!

If there is a Beer Fest and my Barrie bros Barnstormer
Brewing are there, it means I'm gonna see either Allie
or Hannah... or in this one case, both. Always a treat.

My friends at Barnstormer Brewing in Barrie took silver in the Peat Smoked Scotch Ale category with their Smok'n Skywriter while Ottawa's Big Rig took gold for their Tartan Pants Scotch Ale. How are they? I wouldn't know - still waiting to try them. But courtesy of server Allie at the Streetsville Rib Eye Jack's Beer Fest, I had a chance to try their 400 Blonde Ale which had a nice grassy aroma and a hint of citrus on the tongue. It's in the LCBOs now but hey, I got a preview taste. I was there, Allie was there, the 400 was there - what can I say? The stars aligned.

Elora Brewing came second in the British IPA division with their Lady Friend IPA. When I tried it at the Burlington Winter Beer Festival, server Lee told me that "we use Columbus hops in the boil and then finish with New Zealand hops - Pacific Jade, Southern Cross and Wakatu." At 6% but just 50 IBUs (international bitterness units), this beer is wandering away from the British side a little with its hops but I am finding more and more these days, that British style IPAs are actually British-American West Coast hybrids and I gotta say, I'm onboard with that trend.

Elora Brewing may have struck silver with their Lady
Friend IPA at the OBAs but it was their Three Fields
Unfiltered Triple Grain Lager that I gave the gold to at
the Burlington Winter Beer Festival. Lee shows it to us

I quite liked the Lady Friend but thought the Elora booth's real winner that night was their Three Fields Unfiltered Triple Grain Lager, which was my only lager of the night at the Winter Fest. It was 5%, hazy as hell, even grainier than it was hazy and man, what a nice treat.

Next up is a shout-out to Outlaw Brew Co's Bandit Dark Ale, another one I enjoyed at the Winter Beer Fest. On a night that seemed oddly (for me) dedicated to amber and red ales, I very much enjoyed the Bandit, which claimed bronze at the OBAs for Dark Ales. Booth worker Johnny, who had traveled 206 kilometres (128 miles) to Burlington from tiny Southampton, Ontario, explained to me that night, "Bronco's our flagship, 5.6% and it's a hearty beer layered in caramel." Indeed, the beer had great weight with a solid malt backbone so I'm pretty happy for these guys.

Last... but never ever ever least... are my craft comrades at Flying Monkey's Brewing in Barrie. There are precisely 2,361 reasons to love these guys. I could list them all but the court order says I can only legally state two - they're a lot of fun and they're very colourful. There is no missing a Flying Monkeys booth at the Beer Fest. Even the colourblind, such as myself, sees nothing but a wild swirl of colours that I can easily misidentify.

When I first discovered craft beers, Flying Monkeys'
Hoptical Illusion Almost Pale Ale was my go-to for a
session beer to take to a party. At 5% and just 18 IBUs,
it won't floor you but there is no mistaking the Amarillo
hops in this dark and delicious beer. The Best in Show!

Geez, did they have a night at the OBAs as they collected three golds. Their 12 Minutes To Destiny was the best Fruit Beer (had it last summer, a nice light raspberry ale), their Invictus won the best Imperial Stout and in news that should make my old City Hall buddy Kevin quite happy, their Hoptical Illusion Almost Pale Ale took the best British IPA. I remember Kevin telling me when he first discovered it that the Hoptical "reminds me of some of those great British Bitter Ales that I love." Well then, buckle up, Kevin because it also beat every beer in every category to win the coveted Best of Show. In fact, since my buddy Dave and I are getting together to chow down before the big high school reunion, Hoptical Illusion is tonight's session ale of choice for the pre-meal, honouring its big win.

But it's time to get ready for the big bash tonight so I gotta go. Not saying we're getting older but the fact is at this age, we're all waking up on Saturday morning at the same time we used to finally fall asleep on a Saturday morning. I've also notice that it's funny how some sayings go out of style. Like "Hey, Donny, you're looking good." That one apparently fell to the wayside a few decades back. But in case any Millennials are snickering at a bunch of us Baby Boomers partying down tonight, just remember this. If you're even just 25 years old, you are already older than every single dog on the planet. So, chill. Okay, that's it, that's all and I am outta here! Until next time, I remain...

Brushes with greatness

They called him Mister Hockey.  They call
me Dopey McStupidface. I think it's nice
when people find just that right nickname.
There are many people I would say I was
thrilled to meet but man, Gordie Howe??

Today's edition is about brushes with greatness. When I was but a wee Canadian lad, that meant meeting a hockey hero, hopefully from my beloved Toronto Maple Leafs. And I did meet a healthy handful of them over my formative youth. I remember, as a seven-year-old, getting my foot stomped on by a much older boy when Tim Horton showed up for a signing at an Oakville mall. My Mom was panicked that it was broken when I hobbled back to her in obvious pain, his autograph tightly clutched in my hand. It wasn't but it would have been totally worth it. Met literally dozens of NHL stars after that, including at different points, the Holy Trinity of Gordie Howe, Bobby Orr and Wayne Gretzky. Even as an adult, I was still in awe of Orr, who I consider the best ever.

Actually, back in the early-90s, a group of buddies and myself plowed into beers one afternoon with hockey legend Bobby Hull (the guy was as funny as hell, especially as the beer count rose) at some media function for the creation of the True North Hockey League. We all drank free beers from their corporate sponsor, the now-defunct Algonquin Brewery (subsequently bought out by Brick) and Hull was the league's celebrity spokesman and frankly, best drinker. By the end, he happily strolled out to his waiting ride while the rest of us were carted out in wheelbarrows and dumped on the sidewalk, awaiting garbage day pick-up.

"Here's my autograph. Now get the hell away
from me, you disgusting Canadian. I don't
want any of your politeness rubbing off..."

And then there's rock stars. Back in the early-80s, I found myself living for a half year in the Malibu area of California with a handful of buddies I had met in Banff. While that area is, of course, very posh, we lived in tents in a local state park. Southern Cali was Party Central in those days. One night, we went into a huge bar to see Iggy Pop play and in walked David Lee Roth, front-man for Van Halen at that time. While he looks like a tweedy British cricket commentator these days, at that time, he was akin to a Rock God. Women wanted to be with him (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) and guys wanted to be him... mostly because women wanted to be with him. As my back-home best bud, Dave, was also a huge fan, I flew over to get an autograph. "Can you make it 'To Dave from David Lee Roth'?" I asked. And so he did. Just as I was about to thank him, he scowled, "Now f**k off!! I don't want you to draw attention to me." Uhh, just so I have this straight. One of rock's best-known singers walks into a local bar in tight leather pants, shirt wide-open to his waist, sporting the biggest lion's mane of rock and roll hair you have ever seen... and the skinny Canadian kid is the one drawing undue attention? Rock stars are freakin' nuts. The autograph never made it back to Canada, probably lost on a sandy beach but his pleasant greeting gave me and my buddies a solid chuckle. "He swore at you? That's so cool!"

My beer writing buddy, Robert, aka Drunk
Polkaroo met up with Innocente Brewing
owner Steve Innocente during a May 1st
Craft Brewery Bus Tour. These days,
brewers are the new rock stars to us...

But time moves on, priorities shift and suddenly you find yourself in awe of a new person or group. These days, to me and many others, that's the folks who work at many of Ontario's premier craft breweries. And when I saw the list of winners at April 28th's Ontario Brewing Awards, it reminded me of how many of these breweries and their awesome people I have met over the past year or so. And that is to say nothing of the award-winning beer I have downed with alarming frequency. Hey, you gotta support your local breweries. My not-so-fat wallet and always-parched throat-hole are doing the best they can.

Right off the top when I looked at the list of award winners, I had to raise a frosty pint to Amsterdam Brewery for the most clever, made me laugh out loud name. Winning both gold and silver in the Barrel-Aged White Wine category was their Superstition and, wait for it... Maverick and Gose. As the character Goose even says in the movie Top Gun: "No, boys. There's two O's in Goose."

It was a big night for Brock Street Brewing out of Whitby as they won both Best Newcomer of the Year - they just turned one year old last month, as well as taking gold in the Dark Ale category for their Irish Red. This was a beer that I very much enjoyed at the 2016 Burlington Winter Beer Festival. Said their Director of Sales Andrew to me that night, "We really didn't have a big red in our (Durham Region) market."

When Brock Street Brewing Director of Sales
Andrew comes to a Beer Fest, he brings his trusty
mini ping-pong table with him. Do you get your
sample for free if you beat him? We're not sure.
We didn't see anyone beat him at this all night.

"So what we wanted to do was recreate a malt-forward red that's got a bit of that smoky aroma, a bit of that caramel. So it's a big hearty beer on the palate. It's got a medium to full body. Not a beer that I wanna have 50 of but definitely when I'm relaxing, I'll have two or three. I hope you enjoy it." The judges at the OBAs clearly agreed, giving them the gold and I also agree with Andrew. Stop after 49. Fifty beers is too much.

One of the first craft breweries that set up shop near Beer Bro Glenn (who lives in Oshawa) was Whitby's 5 Paddles Brewing and geezuz, did they have a night to remember! When they first opened, Glenn was lukewarm on some the fledgling brewery's offerings, mostly finding their IPAs too malty. Well, I would suggest a return visit because these guys have clearly found their feet, winning a record five awards that night! They snagged a bronze for Honey Gold Beer with their Home Sweet Home, a silver in the American Pale Ale for their In Your Face, another silver in the Imperial Stout for their Midnight Paddler, still another silver for their Sunset Paddler (anyone else sensing a paddles-after-dusk trend here?) in the Barrel Aged Red Wine and finally another for their Kingdom Sweet Kingdom (anyone else sensing a something-sweet-something theme here?) in the Belgian Style Tripel category. A remarkable haul for a brewery that's just a few years old.

Holy macaroni, this was a dynamite pale
ale. Loaded up with Galaxy, Amarillo and
Centennial hops, this is a taste-bud treat,
even at just 5.3% and a very low 34 IBUs.

How far have they come in a short time? That silver for Imperial Stout was edged out by Ontario craft brewing giant, Flying Monkeys, who took gold for their Invictus. Coming second to that Barrie Beer God Squad is like winning.

I am now also eager to try their In Your Face APA simply because it came second to Thunder Bay's Sleeping Giant Brewing's Beaver Duck APA. That beer was a gift to me when my Beer Store coworker Sassy Cassy returned from Lakehead University, bringing, as always, smuggled beers for her dear old Beer Store Dad. So far Sassy has brought me a healthy handful of this tiny brewery's beers and while I thought early on that their Coffee Vanilla Porter would always be my favourite, I had yet to try the Beaver Duck. Small wonder this took gold as it's one of the better APAs out there on par with Nickel Brook's Naughty Neighbour or Rainhard Brewing's Armed N Citra. Despite being just 5.3% and 34 IBUs (international bitterness units), you can't ignore the healthy dose of Galaxy, Amarillo and Centennial hops they've poured into the mix and give this a really nice orange and citrus aroma with little bits of sticky pine on the tongue. A first class, now gold-medal-winning pale ale.

I was no less than thrilled to see two of my Fab Four collect some hardware that night. You see, living in Burlington, my Fab Four includes Nickel Brook (Burlington), Cameron's and Trafalgar Ales and Meads (Oakville) and relative newcomer Collective Arts (Hamilton).

Crap on a cross, look what the brewers at Collective
Arts scored with their Stranger Than Fiction Porter
at the World Beer Cup competition in Philadelphia
just a few days ago! The sonuvaguns grabbed bronze
in the Robust Porter category with their delicious
Stranger than Fiction Porter. A well deserved win!

Cameron's nearly matched 5 Paddles with their four-medal night, collecting a silver in German Pilsner with their Captain's Log Lager, a silver with their Deviator Doppelbock in the Barrel Aged Whiskey, a gold in the Barrel Aged Rum with their Obsidian Imperial Porter and a bronze in the Barley Wine with their Barley Wine. But I have to put my homeboys at Cameron's on hold for the next column. Why? So far, I've only had the lager. I want to try at least two more of those winners before I can quasi-intelligently discuss those beers. (Shut up! I said "quasi" which infers "less than". Gimme a break!)

But I can talk about Collective Arts taking gold in the Porter division with their Stranger Than Fiction. Why? Because beer writer buddy Drunk Polkaroo, co-worker Jay-Dawg and myself have all had it recently and to a man, we all raved over it. Oh sure, I could go on (as I already have) about the delicious chocolate malts on the nose, the rich thick nuttiness on the tongue but I don't need to. Why? Because exactly one week after they struck OBA gold for this black magic, they collected a bronze for the same beer at the World Beer Cup competition in Philadelphia during the 2016 Craft Brewers Conference and BrewExpo America. They beat out 89 other entries from across North America in the Robust Porter category for the third and were just one of five Canadian winners on the day. Winning two medals in one week? You can't put a price-tag on that.

When the Mountain Man himself, Sean from Side
Launch, hands you a beer, you drink the damn beer.
Fortunately, their award-winning Lager was worth it.
If you look hard enough, you can see a beer in his hand.

I have a lot more OBA winners to look at next time beyond Cameron's, including wins from Thornbury Village, Niagara Brewing, StoneHammer, Creemore Springs, Big Rig Brewery, Railway City Brewing, Wellington, Outlaw Brew and of course, one of my all-time favourites, Flying Monkeys. But lemme squeeze in one more and that would Side Launch Brewing's (Collingwood) Mountain Lager. It collected a bronze in the Craft Lager division and I can attest to its crisp, clean, punchy taste and at 4.7%, its sessionable deliciousness. I had it for the first time at the Streetsville Rib Eye Jack's Ale House's Beer Fest exactly four days before its win at the OBAs. A humongous but friendly man the size of the townhouse complex across the street from me handed me one and frankly, I didn't have the balls to say no. A really solid lager and their Dark Lager, which I had on my Best of 2014 list, also collected bronze so a two-medal win night for this brewery. Nicely done, good folks.

Before I go, a public service announcement. Please don't drink and drive. And it's not just because you could hurt yourself or innocent people. It's also because there's negligent drivers out there who still text behind the wheel. And if they rear-end you, it'll still be your fault. There you go. Finally, a pragmatic reason. But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here. Back in a couple with more OBA winners but until then, I remain...