Travel Stories and Other Adventures
The Barmaid set the pint of Guinness stout in front of me, tiny tan bubbles of nitrogen still cascading upward through its dark brown liquid. The last time I’d tasted one, almost 40 years earlier, I thought it vile. Dreading strong, coffee-like flavors, I feared the pending attack on my taste buds.
Continue reading “Irish Pubs and the Art of Guinness”
“Fooooooooooaaaaaaaammmmmmmm.” “Fooooooooooaaaaaaaammmmmmmm.” The man in the front of the room encouraged on the followers, “Fooooooooooaaaaaaaammmmmmmm.” The old, respected guru was about to enter. What sort of cult was this?
I’m not in the habit of taking on challenges from other bloggers, be it photography or writing. But Greg over at Almost Iowa has put out a challenge to write about “My Stuff“, something he’s been doing with great success for years, and I couldn’t resist. Greg puts a new spin on homespun humor and wisdom, check him out.
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The rich aroma of brewing malt and hops filled my nose, the house, and possibly the neighborhood as I peered into the bubbling cauldron of my brew kettle. A dark, chocolaty concoction for a batch of Porter boiled away, both a visual and olfactory delight, suggesting the rich flavors that in due time would greet the tongue.
When we left off, we were talking about sex and alcohol.
It’s not often I can say with confidence I know the secret of success and am willing to share it with you. For free, even.
Beer.
Just mentioning the word will cause some to perk up their ears, trying to catch the inside scoop on who might be providing some. A few are interested primarily in the alcohol it contains, while others have an interest in its different styles and flavors. While the first group may think of making your own in terms of a cheap buzz, it’s the second that will get full return on the art of homebrewing. Read on to find out why.
Every now and then, I volunteer to serve beer at brewfests.
In part one, our intrepid travellers drove the left lane through New Zealand, and dove with the right gear under its waters. We were about to take a flight on which there was a muscular, cricket bat wielding passenger over the ocean to Cairns, Australia. It’s worth mentioning: this was a flight where the alcohol was flowing free and easy.
Several of the world’s cities evoke a particular thought or mental image: for Paris, it’s the Eiffel Tower; for Venice, it’s the canals; and for Munich, it’s the beer. As a beer enthusiast I had high expectations for the Munich beer scene. Did it measure up?
