Google Maps has added “bicycle” as an option for map routing, theoretically helping you avoid hills, traffic, etc. It also has trail options as well. That’s a nice surprise to get spring jumpstarted a bit. Now we just need to see if it will work.

My wife and I went over to Bluebird last night for a few beers to celebrate – I’m not sure – the ever grinding wheels of time as they continue to where down on the thinning teeth of our souls’ cogs, forcing us to move slow and want to move even slower? Yes, that’s probably a good approximation of what we were celebrating.

We started with a bottle of Saison D’Epeautre that was served at the perfect temperature. This was a tasty, dry, mildly-spicy beer with just the right amount of a fleeting sweetness to keep it interesting.

But where the evening really came into it’s own was with the ordering of a 750ml bottle of Jolly Pumpkin’s “La Roja”. Brewed in the “flemish style” this beer hit every note presently getting my fairly large panties in a bunch. Funky with a little sour and fruit on the nose the beer drinks creamy, full, and with the perfect balance of sour and spice on the tongue. My eyes grew wide with amazement every taste I took of this well-crafted brew. I bowed in reverence and saw, perhaps, just a shimmer of light from the future radiating back onto my present self, beckoning me down a road of better living and finer brews cobble-paved by a deeper exploration of the flemish reds.

I was pleasently surprised to find that the unfortunately named Jolly Pumpkin brewery is not far from home, just over a couple borders in Dexter, Michigan. I will definitely be paying them a visit this summer. Too bad the motorcycle riding between here and there is pretty crummy.

On our way home the wifey-poo ducked into Hot Chocolate and picked up a baker’s dozen of Mindy’s cookies. All the cookies were insanely delicious though the molasses seemed to actually defy certain laws of physics.

So we bottled what may be our best (3rd) batch of an IPA yesterday. The whole process went incredibly smooth from sparge to bottling. We were so happy with ourselves that we felt a celebratory beer was in order. We put the beer in the back of Matt’s car and headed over to the Small Bar.

They had some great pulls yesterday: Surly Furious, Bockor Cuvee Sour Ale, Victory Prima Pils, Half Acre’s Baume, Tyranena’s Dirty Ol’ Man. It was a fine, fine celebration indeed, well armed and strategically executed. We even tried some of Rogue’s Whiskey, which, like Stranahan’s Flying Dog, they make from left over mash from their Dead Guy Ale. Rogue’s Whiskey was remarkably smooth with a touch of sweetness and a salty back end that is probably from them aging it in oak barrels by the Ocean. Though they only age the stuff for a week, so it’s also possible that salty flavor is from their talented marketing department as well.

But I digress. It was a monumental celebration. And goddamn, the Victory Pils and Dirty Ol’ Man were fantastic. Of course, all the beers were great, especially the sour from Bockor, a pitch-perfect modestly bodied sour that makes instantly weak any devotee of the flemish sours. But I hadn’t had the Victory Prima Pils until yesterday, so it really stood out for me.

Victory refers to it’s Prima Pils as a German Pilsner and though it may come off sounding initially a bit derisive, I would call Victory’s Prima Pils an American Pilsner, or maybe a New American Pilsner as I feel this is the first beer that actually deserves it’s name. It’s hop heaviness serves as a refreshing compliment to the crispness of the beer, the stuff practically snaps off and crunches in your mouth. There is some discussion amongst the beer geeks as to whether Victory is stretching the truth claiming they only use German malts in the Prima Pils. Some brewers are convinced the slight sour apple taste – the often undesirable acetyldehyde – on the front end is derived from wheat. There’s also some discussion as to whether this is an all Saaz brew or if there is some Northern Brewer at the bittering point. Wherever the flavors are coming from they are well proportioned. This beer is crisp, bright and hoppy enough to keep my filthy fingers digging back in for more. And I will.

This may be one of only, oh, three or four times I will say this in my life, but… that Dirty Ol’ Man, he was very good to me last night. Strong chocolate notes in a creamy body with just enough roasted character and hopiness to keep the stout from going past it’s surprisingly sessionable self.

And, as always, the food at the Small Bar was great, too. The pork nachos are incredible, the poutine is fucking trascendental, but yesterday we started with their Buffalo Chicken Spring Rolls:

chopped chicken sautéed in our house buffalo
sauce then wrapped with crumbled blue cheese
and fried in a traditional spring roll. served
with carrots, celery, green onion and blue
cheese for dippin

They’ve somehow managed to achieve the impossible and improve upon buffalo wings, making them easier to eat, and crunchier with a deep fried shell to safely transfer them from plate to face.

And as always the staff at Small Bar are some of my favorite people in the world, they always take good care of us.

But, OH SHIT! I forgot! The whole reason we came into the Small Bar to celebrate in the first was because of our beer. That we left in the car. In 20* weather. For now almost 24 hours.

Shit.

I woke up this morning, and while sharing a lovely breakfast with my equally lovely wife she off-handedly reminded me of my orphaned babies in the truck. This is, perhaps, as good as any argument for why I shouldn’t father children as well. It would be a shame to go out and properly celebrate my kid’s learning to ride a bike, or learning to read, or using the toilet only to come to the stark realization the next day that I would up leaving him in the car for 24 hours while I proudly drank in his honor.

But, in my defense, children and yeast are pretty resilient. After moping for a few minutes I hit the Beer Advocate forum and queried the geeks. And in under ten minutes I had 2 responses that put my mind at ease. Essentially, all I needed to do was give the beers a god swirl or two, put them back in the crate and expect full carbonation as if nothing had happened. My fear was, leaving the beer at around 35* for about 10 hours (20 hours in the car in 15-25* weather) that the yeast had gone dormant and wouldn’t get back up anytime soon to eat. But apparently, I have more than one thing in common with yeast, not the least of which is the will to perservere through a decent night’s rest with more than a little bit of snacking.

So, our team of crackhead brewers here at OA have found a new and interesting way to try and ruin our beer. Fortunately, this attempt was a bit easier to recover from than some mistakes of the past have been. I now wait patiently for the next manner in which we can subjugate ourselves on the road to delicious and plentiful beers.

I just scrubbed this from Half Acre’s blog. Sounds awesome, almost awesome enough for me to jump on it despite it being so spendy. Check it out:

Half Acre is taking part in a big collaborative beer dinner on Feb 22, 2010.

Every year, Mindy Segal, owner of Hot Chocolate on Damen, throws a celebratory anniversary event. This is her 5th anniversary and she’s put together a beer dinner that promises be stellar. 7 chefs & 7 breweries.

Check out the lineup of talent:

Benjamin Caulfield of Three Floyd’s passed apps…House made charcuterie
Nick Lessins of Grate Lakes Brewing Co passed apps

Aric Miech…Hot Chocolate (starter) with Half Acre Beer Co

Bill Kim…Urban Belly/Belly Shack (soup) with Lagunitas

Paul Kahan…Blackbird/Avec/Publican/Big Star (Seafood/Fish) Three Floyd’s

Michael Kornick…mk/dmk (poultry or game) Goose Island

Rick Bayless…Topolobombo/Frontera grill (meat) Surly Brewing Co.

Paul Virant…Vie restaurant (composed cheese) Revolution Brewing Company

Mindy Segal…Hotchocolate (dessert) Piece Brewery

Tickets are $150 per person and will likely sell out fast. See Hot Chocolate for details.

I knew when we saw the married couple of hasidic midgets at the airport that magic was in the air, real and ancient magic, the kind of magic that builds nations, changes lives and alters the course of human history. Those little buggers in their devotional doll clothes had clearly been sent by central casting as harbingers of The Great Plenty, though there was little indication as to what form the Plenty wold come. But, after locking paths with those likable little jewish folk, it was clear that grand mysteries were destined to be revealed.

Naturally, since we were about to leave on a snowboarding trip I had assumed that magic would come in the form of fluffy white pillows of dry western snow, sheared rock faces and fresh mountain air. And it did in spades. But, on this fateful trip into that picturesque crease that splits down the center of the lushly decadent acreage of the fiercely individuated Nevada and the ceremoniously broke and broken California, there would be more.

Our plan was to fly into Reno, grab a half day at Mt. Rose then head into Tahoe for a couple days on Heavenly. But as we talked to people at Mt. Rose it become very apparent that, forced to choose, we’d be fools to skip Kirkwood.

30 minutes from the Reno airport, Mt. Rose offers something rare, the ability to leave Chicago in the morning and still have a half day’s worth of riding waiting for you upon landing. Mt. Rose is home to an impressive collection of pretty dramatic chutes and decent off trail runs that were challenging, though a bit rockier than they betrayed on first glance.

On the east side of Mt. Rose there’s the Winter’s Creek Lodge, as fine as any place you might find at a resort to stick your face into beer and it has an all glass wall providing one of the more staggering views of the Sierras we would get all weekend.

After a few good hours of riding and some carbonated medication we set off for our accommodations.

We picked up what seemed like a deal for our room on Craig’s List; $250 for 3 nights at the Diamond Resort, a time share community that was part day care center and part nursing home. It wasn’t a terrible price at $40 a night per person, but it was advertised as having a kitchenette. Unfortunately, the kitchenette consisted of a sink, a small fridge and a microwave, definitely not equipped for actually making food of any consumable sort and rendering that $40 a night price tag a bit more expensive by forcing us to eat out. Another bummer was that the pool and hot tub weren’t outside, a strange decision in a mountain town. Oh, and the foyer between our room and our neighbors smelled like an old person urine, that fine senior solution of one part stale, salty, manwater to two parts medicine. Ah, yes, and the maid service never so much as peaked in our door. But so what, I didn’t take this trip for the accomodations, though it is worth noting that when we return we won’t be staying at the Diamond Resort in South Lake Tahoe.

But where the Diamond Resort with it’s geriatric situations failed us Heidi came to our rescue. And our rescue, in all it’s Nordic splendor, came stacked three high and smothered in butter and warm maple syrup. That’s right, I’m speaking of bacon filled pancakes, specifically Heidi’s Pancake Houses Bacon Stack. The Bacon Stack is a delicious, classic repeller cake filled with chunks of bacon cooked right inside of Heidi’s delicious batter. Heidi’s also offers a bacon waffle which, in retrospect, I think might be even better than the bacon pancakes, the light crunchiness of the waffle I’m guessing will provide an even more appropriate throne upon which that sweet salty hog can hide before running flavor ambushes on your jaded palette. Every dish at Heidi’s is served lovingly large with a clementine on the side and our waitress, Jane, was about as sweet and attentive as you’d want your waitress to be without being creepy or phony or following us home.

Our first full day of riding at Kirkwood killed. Natural bowls, rolling tubes, soft snow and a warm afternoon sun. It delivered on every level you would want and then some. I was loving this one run that we did several times picking it up off of Solitude, scooting behind a terrain park and then ducking into some tree lines. It was a long tube filled with rollers and little grade changes and drops. It hadn’t been touched much and nobody was around when we were riding it.

Later, we dug around on Deadwood Spur for a while picking out some nice lines inside the trees. Trevor ultimately grew several extra pairs of balls and took the t-line up to the top of Larry’s Lip. I’m just a nice midwestern boy whose synapses aren’t quite as damaged as his so I kept chipping away on Deadwood Spur while he did that.

After 4 good hours of riding we bellied up at the Tower to indulge in some of Lake Tahoe Breweries fine devices. The beer was effective enough, perhaps too much so, as before long I found myself on “The Wall” climbing to just over 9,400′ and what I was assuming with increasing certainty would be my complete undoing.

Whinnying like a small, gelded, lamb the only solace I could find was in the continued promises to punch Trevor in the nuts repeatedly as soon as I could find some level ground on which to properly levy my strength. But before too long he was talking me through it and managed to get my brain to more adequately process the information needed to get myself down the mountain.

Once I decided I was actually going to ride the bloody mountain and not slide down as slowly and perpindicular as possible, it was an incredible release. I stopped staring as far below me as my eyes could theorize terrible events and started focusing in the 20′ in front of me that I could actually react and respond to and hope to manage and maintain a desirable fate. I kept my knees bent and soft and popped my hips around as I essentially jumped down the mountain from point to point. I stayed loose, remained focused and fell into a rhythm the eliminated everything in the world from existence but my brain and the contours of this holy mountain.

I got to the bottom, my lungs dialated, my pupils air tight and my whole body running at a resonant hum. I couldn’t get back up the mountain soon enough.

We did a few more runs, hit the Tower for some more libations and cheesy fries, before ultimately loading up our coffees and heading back down the pass to South Lake Tahoe. We still had a day of riding left, but it was clear my peak had passed.

That night we hit the Lakeside Casino for an $8.50 Prime Rib dinner, got a peanut butter smothered ice cream at the Red Hut and passed out watching the X-Games.

Sunday was a gorgeous bluebird day, but my legs were shot to hell. Early on Trevor hiked up to the highest point on the resort at Thimble Peak and rode down the mountain to random spikes of hoots and hollering.

We split the rest of the day between the taps and the trails lighting out of Kirkwood before the musical illiteracy of the spongey-headed native Californians could truly negatively and permanently effect us.

Seriously, I heard a dub remix of Pink Floyd’s “The Lunatic Is In the Grass” not once, but twice in the same day. I’d rather be raped by a board room full of advertising geeks dressed in paisley priest outfits and farting axe body spray from their bleeding pores than have to sit through another downbeat of that tasteless morass of sonic psuedo-goovism ever again.

I don’t know, maybe I had had too much of that cookie from that kind native and it was making me edgy and cranky, but for the love of all that has self-respect and a functional state economy I needed to get home STAT, take myself a music bath and wash this third rate schwag rock hippie horse shit off me for once and for good, “bro”.

We retreated to the nursing home and slowly, cathartically, and with a kind of religious attention to detail cleaned ourselves and shuffled out the door for the casino. It had been an amazing run, Tahoe had been quite good to us and the midgets had pulled their tiny little magical weight. We bellied up for some Black Jack that paid for our dinner and drinks and brought a slow, grounded, mahogauny sensibleness to our weekend’s pursuits.

Sitting at the Harrah’s about to get dealt my 6th of 9 Black Jacks I would win for the evening when the pit boss summed it up better than I ever could, he said:

“This is fucking Nevada, sir, you can smoke in here if you like. Hell, we’ve got gambling, fishing, all kinds of skiing, prostitution, those amazing lakes out there and our bars are open 24 hours a day, every day, no matter what. Could you possibly need anything else?”

Yes, one other thing. Bacon filled pancakes…

There is plenty of information in the mediasphere on how you can donate to help the victim’s of the Haitian earthquake, though there is little discussion that I have seen on practical solutions for implementing the financial aid that is pouring in. But then this morning, I noticed the Dangerous Mind’s post on Chicago’s Vinay Gupta’s Hexayurt project.

Cheap, extremely portable, and able to be constructed quickly by a single person, the Hexayurt is a remarkably efficient solution to creating a temporary shelter for disaster areas, refugee situations, construction sites, military installations or festivals.

Vinay developed this for his camp at Burning Man and has been pushing them for the better part of the past decade. We had several plans to interview him for the Viking Youth Power Hour, but never saw that plan to completion though I wish we had. There’s little I enjoy more than seeing an elegant solution to a difficult problem and Vinay’s Hexayurts clearly fit that bill.

This year’s Lake View Polar Club “Celebration of Shrinkage” will be on Saturday January 30th at high noon at the Oak Street beach.

I mean to do this every year, but flake on it for one reason or another. There’s a good chance I’m going to be in Tahoe that weekend snowboarding, but if I’m not there’s a moderate possibility I won’t flake on it this year.

The swim will take place
at Oak Street Beach by the Hancock Building just north of the Magnificent Mile. All participants should plan on arriving by 11:30am
to register, set up camp, and to allow time for pictures prior to jumping in.

The after party will take place that evening at Galway Bay
(500 W. Diversey) from 9pm-Midnight. A generous portion of
the fee associated with the drink special will go towards
helping out families in need. As always, we will also be
having a raffle at the after party. Click HERE for a list of
prizes. Tickets are $2/each or 3 for $5. Tickets can be
purchased in advance, at the beach or at the after party or by
using our PayPal link on the donation page.

Go to their site for all the info.

Chicago’s temperature index is staying comfortably below freezing now, in fact, most days this week we were below zero with windchill. I haven’t yet committed to the adjustment for riding my bike to work in the mornings, but I think I’ll start with that again next week. My plan for that is to basically dress like I’m going snowboarding – pants, first layers, gloves, coat, helmet and goggles – but tape up my pants. I’ll be sure to include my gator as well as that early morning air can sting to hell when we get down in the single and double digits.

But biking winter is a peripheral joy for me, one that I take and leave based on need more than pleasure. I much prefer to stick with seasonal activities requiring gear that is elegantly prepped for the conditions, not simply coerced into function. And, to my mind, there’s no low buy-in winter activity in the midwest quite as enjoyable as cross country skiing.

I fought XC skiing for years, assuming it was as dull as the people I knew who did it. I could never figure out where the enjoyment came from and was always trying to figure out where they were hiding the hill. But something switched in my aging brain last year and I decided to try it again as I wrestled to discover more ways I could interact with winter and snow beyond snowboarding. Much to my surprise I fell in love with cross country skiing. There’s a low learning curve, it’s totally accessible and it gives me a new reason to find desolate paths in and outside the Chicago area. It offers me the kind of satisfied solitude I have found myself longing for more and more as I get older.

Fortunately, my XC skis don’t require waxing. They’ve got fish scales on them and require almost zero maintenance. Matt, on the other hand, picked up a real nice pair of XC Skis on the cheap from Craigs list last year, nice enough that they require a steady waxing. We’re getting together tomorrow to prep his skis for the weekend, so here’s a video to help get my brain running around this process properly again.

So I tried our IPA (a very loose Bell’s Two Hearted Clone) and it’s just OK. It’s not fully carbonated yet so I’m sure that will improve it’s flavor a bit, but the real issue is that it’s real thin, way too bitter (even for me), and there’s a similar, very subtle flavor in there that I don’t care for, to what is in our Bitter (and works better in the Bitter).

Based on my present understanding of this stuff I’m assuming that flavor is most likely from the yeast we’ve been using or, possibly, that we’ve been using Chicago tap water. So for our next attempt at the Two Hearted Clone, I’m going to do a few things different:

1. Use distilled water
2. Use Centennial hops for the bittering (what Bell’s uses), though I’m going to stay with Cascade for the dry hopping as I really prefer it’s aroma and I’m pretty sure it’s what Half Acre uses, at least for aroma, on their Daisy Cutter.
3. Try a new kind of yeast, White Labs wlp051 California Ale yeast.

The use of the new yeast will hopefully help give our beer more body and help the taste a bit.  But, with using White Labs instead of the wyeast activator, I’ll now have to do a yeast starter in order to get the most from my vial of liquid yeast.  I poked around the internet a bit and found plenty of decent instructions on how to make a yeast starter.  I thought the nice folks over at AllGrainAles.com had one of the better and clearer instructions on how to do this.

Here’s how to make a yeast starter from your wort compliments of AllGrainAles.com:

Equipment Checklist:

- Clean glass bottle / jug (a growler works great)
- Bottle stopper
- Airlock
- 1/2 gallon spring water
- dry packaged brewing yeast or liquid yeast culture
- Funnel
- Medium-sized sauce pan
- 1/2 lb dry malt extract

As with all brewing procedures, it is crucial to maintain very sanitary conditions when handling yeast and all starting wort and equipment.

# Remove your yeast from refrigeration before beginning your mash on brew day.
# Draw off some wort during the sparging process (maybe a quart) and place in a medium-sized sauce pan. Check the gravity of this liqid and dilute to 1.020 – 1.030, if necessary. You’ll need about 1.75 quarts total.
# Boil this wort for 10-15 min. Reduce temperature (let it sit for 45 min. covered) and pour it (slowly) into a sterile 1/2-gallon jug (using a sterile funnel). Cap this with a stopper and airlock to maintain optimal conditions.
# Reduce and monitor temperature (running cold water against the jug) until it reaches 72°-74° F.
# Aerate this wort and add the room-temperature yeast.
# Mix and maintain temperature above 70° until it is added to the finished wort.

For low these past 8 years now a group of degenerates near and dear to my heart have been hosting Chicago’s version of the SantaCon, the inimitable (and superbly intoxicated) SANTA KONG. Yes, it’s as intimidating as a 3 story gorilla and almost as virile, too. Yes, you will get drunk, very drunk. And, yes, I will once again be serving my patented weapons-grade egg nog from a gas can.

If your idea of a good time is to travel around America’s third largest city in school buses full of drunken Stana Clauses, reigning lovable havoc on unsuspecting, but typically appreciative bystanders and then sleeping off your holiday cheer for a day or two, well then Virginia, the SantaKong is just the thing for you.

Here is what Disco Dave has to say about the event:

BASICS:
Synchronicity’s 8th Annual SantaKong begins at 2:00 PM Saturday – December 12th, 2009 at Quencher’s bar. Quencher’s is located at 2401 N. Western Avenue, on the corner of Fullerton & Western. This year the Kong will be using cheaper school buses, as opposed to trolleys from years past. This enables everyone to get jolly for nearly twice as long, without breaking the bank. Everyone will spend the first hour at Quencher’s decorating and festi-fying the buses. (Oh and drinking.) Please bring Christmas decorations and other Holiday swag to make our school buses as obnoxiously cheer-tastic as possible.

To join us, just Paypal $26 to pocketbook@synchroni-city.org. https://www.paypal.com

If you do not have a Paypal account, see the FAQ’s below.

YOU MUST WEAR A SANTA OR OTHER HOLIDAY-THEMED OUTFIT. IF YOU DON’T DRESS UP FOR SANTAKONG – YOU ARE LAME!

As usual, your $26 payment covers a massive quantity of beer and whiskey, which will be festively available at any and all times we are on the buses. You are still welcome, of course, to bring your own alcohol. In fact it’s kind of a tradition.

The Bus departs from Quencher’s at 3:00, and will return to the Quencher’s neighborhood at approximately 11:00-11:30 P.M.
FAQ’s:

WHAT IF I CAN’T BE AT QUENCHERS BY 3:00?
No worries, you can also plan on meeting up with us at The Twisted Spoke (501 N Ogden Ave) for our 4:30 departure.

If that doesn’t work out for you, please look for us at the corner of Lincoln, Halsted and Fullerton for our 6:00 departure from there. If you miss us at there, you’ll have to give us a call.

HOW DOES THIS WHOLE THING WORK NOW, EXACTLY?
The buses provide you and your Santa friends with safe and sober transportation from bar to bar around the great city of Chicago. Intermittently you’ll be bringing your unique brand of cheerful revelry to public settings like Daley Plaza, Macy’s, the Billy Goat Tavern, Emmitt’s, and even an Ice Skating Rink!

DO I REALLY HAVE TO WEAR A COSTUME?
Yes.

I DON’T DO PAYPAL . . . . CAN I STILL KONG OUT?
Maybe.

We will be taking some cash payments on the day of the event. However, an RSVP is strongly suggested, and there is limited space on our buses. If you do not Paypal us in advance, Synchronicity cannot guarantee you a spot on our buses. We strongly recommend you Paypal us your $26 in advance to guarantee your spot. Setting up a Paypal account is easy and free. All you need is a bank account and an email address, and you can both send and RECEIVE money.

ANYTHING GOES ON THE BUSES, RIGHT?
No, no and no. You must obey all state and local laws while participating in SantaKong. That means you may NOT use illicit substances on the buses . . . not even weed. Without the humor and good graces of our friendly drivers – we have no SantaKong. Please do not put our driver’s jobs or the event’s future in jeopardy. Obey all state and local laws while you’re on the bus.

WHAT IF I’M TOO WASTED TO DRIVE HOME?
Luckily, Quenchers has the advantage of being located close to several cheap CTA options, such as the Western Bus the Fullerton Bus, and the Blue Line, all three of which run on a 24-hour schedule. Also, cabs are everywhere in that neighborhood. PLEASE DO NOT PLAN ON DRIVING HOME FROM SANTAKONG. Your friends may be sad that you got splattered all over the Dan Ryan, but they’ll also be pissed off that your stupidity ruined a perfectly good SantaKong.

I HAVE A QUESTION YOU HAVEN’T ADDRESSED:
No problem. Email me at dave_h@illmeasures.com

Downtown the Disco Elf
for
Synchronicity

http://www.Synchroni-City.org