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| Coming to me on the Facebook phonecall was Frankie from sunny Puerto Rico when he had a couple of his Carling Ice in him. Those were always pretty funny calls but they always came with an invitation: Come visit us in Puerto Rico |
Now, let me begin by saying Frankie is my oldest friend. But that sentence needs clarification. You see, I have friends - the kind of friends you'd drink beer with - ranging in age from probably about 22 to 65 years old. Frankie was at the highest end of that scale... thus my "oldest" friend. I find it's best to have friends in all generational categories - Baby Boomers, Generation X and Millennials - because all have very separate skill sets they bring to the table. Generation X are, for the most part, society's leaders of today. Millennials have all the cool tech-toys and will happily teach us how to use them. And Baby Boomers, well, we have that unique gift of walking into a room and forgetting why the hell we're there. But while we're in there, we will tell you why everything you're doing is completely wrong.
The truth is I've only known Frankie for little less than a decade. And another truth is we never actually met. We were introduced via the Internet through a mutual friend, Kevin. Now Kevin, I do know. We both toiled at the same City Hall many years ago. Kevin held a position of some importance and power there whereas I smoked in the men's washroom just because it was prohibited.
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| Back in his Pop Shoppe days, Frankie used to hang with Eddie Shack, the NHL player known affectionately as Eddie The Entertainer. One of Canada's most beloved hockey figures, Shackie didn't exactly score goals as they were far more likely to bounce into the net off his ass. |
Now because both Frankie and myself used to inundate Kevin with cheesy joke or frat boy risque emails, he eventually said, "You two should connect." Secretly, Kevin hoped that our connection would dilute the endless stream of bad emails crashing his inbox a little bit. With Frankie and myself working in tandem, they likely tripled.
Eventually, a third party entered the picture - Richard, who I have always called RAD because those were his initials. Sometimes, nicknames come gift-wrapped. This unholy troika had all grown up together in Hamilton and were damn proud of their hometown. And these three had a game they liked to play called Wildly Bantering On Donny's Facebook Page While Donny Was At Work. This was during my flip-phone days whereupon I could not see any of it until I returned home to my laptop. At one point, I was dating a woman Frankie called "LL". Lois Lane? Lana Lang? Lex Luthor? Who the hell knows? But one day, Frankie made a mistake.
"Hey, LL, they call me SDF," he told her on my Facebook wall. "Can you guess what that stands for?" Well, she never got to answer because RAD and Kevin jumped in quickly with their own suggestions, such as Slightly Deformed Frank, Seriously Demented Frank, Sadly Disgusting Frank... and on and on. Until they arrived conclusively and with utmost certainty at, well, Small Dick Frank. It's how life-long buddies interact. We throw more shade than a forest filled with century-old Oak trees.
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| Here's the four hour and 20 minute flight from Toronto to Puerto Pico that I always meant to take but never did. Maybe $300 tops and I even had a place to stay. Damn. |
More than a little irked, Frank finally blurted out, "It stands for Sweet Daddy Frankie!!" Well, I wish I could tell you that quelled the mockery but instead, the ridicule grew exponentially. And of course, I saw none of this until I arrived home and could not stop laughing once I read it.
After working his entire life both in Canada and the United States for countless companies, Frankie cleared out after 9-11 and set up shop in Puerto Rico. In 2004, he married the love of his life, Gloria, and all was good. At some point, Frankie discovered that through Facebook Messenger, he could make free long-distance video phone calls and whenever he had (more than) a few Carling Ice beers in him, my laptop started ringing. And for an hour, maybe longer, Frankie and I would talk about anything and everything. He loved his NFL football and would send me a list of his weekly bets, thinking I followed the league carefully. I don't really so without his knowledge, I would log onto a Las Vegas odds site and tell him why his bets were either good or bad. He thought he was talking to Donny but it was actually Donny Vegas taking his call. And I, well, Vegas was usually right. "How do you do that?" he marvelled. The calls always ended the same way - with an open invitation to visit them in Puerto Rico.
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| After Frank coined the name Sweet Daddy Frankie, Kevin was quick to point out the copyright infringement case that former wrestler-turned-singer Sweet Daddy Siki could make against him. Frank remained undeterred. |
Oddly, Frankie was a big fan of this little horse and pony show you're reading. I have no idea why and have never asked because you do not question people's preferences when they work in your favour. Ever. Well over 90% of the time, Frank was the first person to "like" this column whenever I linked it to Facebook.
Sadly, that won't happen this time. In the wee hours of February 28, Frank slipped and whacked his head hard. Despite Gloria's insistence, he refused to go to the hospital, saying he'd feel better in the morning. He never woke up. RAD gave me the news when I was at work in the morning. His early guess was his heart. Kevin filled me in on the circumstances later in the day. Though I kept it to myself, it was not a good day for me. And it was, without a doubt, infinitely worse for RAD and Kevin, who lost a hometown buddy with whom they shared their childhood and far beyond. I lost a good friend. They lost family. Big difference.
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| Only Sassy Cassy could make me do the impossible and that is drink a Pumpkin Ale. Granted, she does not know my disdain for the style and I did have that IPA on the right to cleanse my palate afterwards. Like, instantly. |
I was wondering how to honour Frankie here and my first thought was to toast him with a pint of his beloved Carling Ice. The can he drank in our video Facebook phonecalls looked different than the ones here so I assumed it was exported to Puerto Rico from the United States where it is, in turn, imported from Molson. (The Caribbean island is an unincorporated US territory. And no, I have no idea how that works.) But as popular as Carling Ice is at my Beer Store, it's not exactly to my tastes. It's hard to honour and toast a fallen friend when you're wincing with each swallow. I remain convinced that Frankie would want me to do this with craft beer since that's all he ever read about here.
And I do like the notion of family, whether biological or extended so that's what I'm going to do here. Since I work at the Beer Store, let's look at some of the goodies my extended family there have sent to Donny's Bar and Grill. First on deck, as she should be, is my sweet Beer Store daughter, Sassy Cassy. So Sass goes to Lakehead University which is way up there in Thunder Bay. Not close. But every time she returns home, she always has some beauties for me, courtesy of the city's Sleeping Giant Brewing, a fantastic outfit turning five this year.
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| Beer Store Sister Marie FINALLY gave me the opportunity to try these two Dogfish Head beers side-by-side. I have enjoyed both IPAs but months apart and have always wondered which would be my favourite of the pair. Is it the Dogfish Head's 60-Minute IPA or their 90-Minute Imperial IPA? |
But without realizing it, she threw me a curveball. While I had only requested their Hoppet IPA, I left any other choice up to her. Truthfully, one is plenty as she's a student. She responded with their Mr Pompous Pumpkin Ale. Well, damn. Sass doesn't know the disdain I have for pumpkin beers (I let Drunk Polkaroo review them and just use his results) so she probably thought, "Oh look, cool. Pumpkin beer! Donny will love that!" Well, a man can do many things in his life but disappointing his "daughter" should never ever be on that list. So, dammit, I drank that pumpkin ale. For life! For liberty! For Sassy Cassy! The 5.5% flavoured ale wasn't too bad at all. The brewery got their pumpkins from the local Belluz Farms and incorporated the usual flavours into the mix - cinnamon and nutmeg.
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| Have you ever had a Peanut Butter Porter? Thanks to Marie, I have and man, that is one nutty brewski. |
So let's talk main course now - that Hoppet IPA. Now we're in Donny's wheelhouse. Their Beaver Duck Pale Ale, gold medal winner at the 2016 Ontario Brewing Awards, is a big favourite around here as Sass has brought me that one twice. Hoppet's commercial description cites the liberal use of Pacific Northwest hops so likely some combo of Centennial, Chinook or Cascade were used. Definitely, citrus with a whiff of pine on the nose of this 6%, 70 IBU (international bitterness units) but completely citrus on the tongue. I quite liked it but it's gonna take a lot to top Beaver Duck around these parts.
Okay, after Sass' generosity, let's look at some recent offerings from my Beer Store Sister-From-A-Different-Mister Marie.
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| When an independent delivery service dropped off some Ace Hill Pilsner to my old Beer Store, they accidentally left two cases of Nickel Brook's Headstock IPA, as well. I told Cassy to guard it with her very life. As you can see, she was all over the case, uh, or cases in this case. That's confusing. Headstock can now be found in the Beer Store. |
While I love a good stout, I was more eager for that chocolate-peanut butter porter because that's a new flavour for me. I didn't get peanut butter so much as just straight nuttiness from this 5.4% porter but the chocolate and nuts were certainly there. I won't declare it the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup of beers but I will say it was damn tasty, The Stout Destruct was a hefty meal of an Imperial Stout at 9.6% and a listed IBU of 98, which I'm thinking is a mistake as it was malty, chocolate but not nearly as hoppy as that IBU would indicate. I'm guessing the recipe went something like, "Okay, let's start with chocolate malts and then add more chocolate malts... and a few more." Thick as tar, rich and delicious!
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| If you're in Windsor, this is the place to be - Craft Heads Brewing on the corner of Pellisier and University! Beer, pizza, coffee... they have it all covered for wandering beer-loving crowd. |
Craft Heads, located at the corner of University and Pelissier in Windsor, was started by a couple of homebrewers and now has over 20 beers on tap every day. There's also an upper-scale coffee component to the outfit but let's face it, I'd be there for the beer. I love my coffee as much as the next guy but I don't go to breweries for it. However, they do have stone-fire pizza available and I am always onboard for pizza with my beer!!! Keep going, Craft Head gang! I'll see you in the Summer!
But an even more recent trip to the United States saw Marie bring me back three absolute gems - the Dogfish Head (Milton, Delaware) 60 Minute IPA, their 90 Minute Double IPA and a Flying Dog (Frederick, Maryland) Raging Bitch Belgian-Style IPA. We'll deal with the Flying Dog brew in my next piece on labels that may or may not be inappropriate but I absolutely have to deal with the two Dogfish Head beers now.
You see, courtesy of Beer Bro Glenn, I have had both these beers before. Loved them both but my samplings were a year apart. So when someone asked me which I preferred, I was at a loss. Counting on my memory is like counting on a sundial to give you the time to the second. I thought both were top-notch but really, you have to try them side-by-side, don't you?
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| Will this entice you to visit Craft Heads Brewing in Windsor? Stone-fired pizza and beer? Just remember that every grain that goes to pizza rather than beer is a solid secondary use of it. |
The 60-Minute IPA at 6% and 60 IBUs certainly sounds like the weaker of the pair, up against the 90-Minute Imperial IPA at 9% and 90 IBUs - a beer Esquire magazine once called the "perhaps the best IPA in America." But that did not turn out to be the case. No, side-by-side, I gave the nod to the 60-Minute. There was a sweetness to the aroma and the taste of the 90-Minute that I found a little disconcerting. As with all Imperial IPAs, it counted on a solid malt backbone to hold it together and did so nicely. Some tangerine on the tongue with a thick and oily mouthfeel. But that 60-Minute IPA? Now we're talking! Brewed with Amarillo, Warrior and some "mystery hop," this was as pure an example of an IPA as they come. Citrus and pine on the nose, tangy grapefruit on the tongue, I absolutely loved this beer. I considered both great beers as stand-alones months apart but head-to-head, gimme that Hour Beer.
Well, like I said, back to labels next time. But to my "oldest" pal Sweet Daddy Frankie, sleep well. I wish it lasted years longer but every time I talked to you, it sounded like you were having the greatest ride ever. You lived life on your own terms, my older brother, and in the end, that's what matters the most. But guys and dolls, that's it, that all and I am outta here. Until next time, I remain...
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