I’ve been changing my drinking habits lately. Running around trying to grab every beer that one has never tried is a young man’s game, and I just don’t seem to have the energy for it like I used to. And yes, you can do the logic problem and conclude that I’m not a young man anymore.
Instead, I’ve been grabbing some local beers off the shelf and just kind of hanging out with them. Whether it be a six pack over a long weekend, or a couple (or maybe three) over a period of a couple of weeks (or months). I’ve been just hanging out with the beer, kicking back, relaxing, experiencing it at different times and in different situations, while trying not to let too many other beers distract me.
What is this beer? Does it have a story? Does the story change over time?
Will this improve my reviews? Probably not. But they’ll be changing a bit as well as the wordy intros will probably be whittled down to a few words so that the review is more concise and quicker for you to read.
I also want to use this beer ‘quality time’ to take some photos of the beer and let you all have a peek at what the beer and I are doing in our lives. And the truth is, I’d rather be playing in Lightroom and Photoshop lately than writing long, rambling reviews.
So with that, let’s check out the first beer in this new format, Fordham Brewing’s Dilated Pupilz.
THEM: From the website – “Dilated Pupilz has a solid malt backbone and well balanced hop character. This golden pilsner showcases a distinct hop nose and malty flavor up front but finishes with a floral bitterness. A great beer to enjoy any time of the year.”
The grain bill includes Vienna and Caraform malts, while Bravo, Tradition and Saaz hops balance the load. Pupilz clocks in at 5.0%ABV and 38IBU.
THE BUZZ: Ratebeer (no ratings), Beer Advocate (one rating), Untappd (3.4)
DE AVAILABILITY: Most fine beer outlets.
ME: As you can see by the below photos I’ve been drinking this one for a little while now. I’ve found it mostly to be a beer that drinks pretty nice in most situations without demanding too much attention on itself.
When stored in my super turbo beer over-chiller (aka, my fridge) Pupilz has a clean nose and a just apparent malt taste with some classic Pilsner hop flavors. Every now and then the beer tosses me a citrusy/lemon notes towards the end, not sure if that’s really there, or if it’s my palate doing some of that slight-of-hand stuff that it does sometimes. The end is pretty crisp and doesn’t linger.
I wasn’t sure I liked this beer at first, but in the end it really started to grow on me. In fact, once I had everything I needed for this review, I found myself picking up one last six-pack – you know, just for the hell of it.
As always click on a photo to enlarge and cycle through the gallery to read a little comment or two about each photo.
Time for another beer.
Last major snow storm of the year – last major snow clean up.
Dilated Pupilz is just the name, not the side effects, but still drink responsibly.
Of course after the snow finally thawed it was time to start leaf detail.
A little simmerinig tomato sauce on a Sunday, along with a beer or two.
I was sad to hear that Bill Paxton passed away so I grabbed a beer and cued up one of my favorite movies.
A pleasant surprise finding them both at my local.
The Walking Dead continues to be one of my favorite shows on TV and I look forward to it every week. That doesn’t mean that the show sometimes makes me scratch my head, or just confuse me outright.
I watch the show while at the same time participating in “Live Chat” on a WD Facebook page with like minded people. We watch the show while at the same time making inspiring comments about it, some are deep value adding comments on the technical issues of the show while some are just stupid. Think MST3K. But without the talent. Or the budget.
I wrote a buddy who I used to work with when the show went on mid-season break, but moved to another job not long after. He wanted to know what I thought, and after tossing together some musings on the show based on some of the chat comments I made I thought, why not rewrite it and post it.
I’m always wishing to expand the posts on this blog from just beer related stuff and so here we are. You wonderful people, are the benefactors of this whim. I won’t be posting it on my blog’s FB page as I think I should keep that all beer related, so only you fine people who follow through WordPress or get my blog through email get to see this. Yeah, you!! Happy Valentines day!
The comments in BOLD are what I wrote during live chat, the normal text underneath as context to the comment. OH – and spoilers.
“Do happy tears count?”
This was in response to someone who asked if anyone would cry if Father Gabriel died after raiding (loudly, I mean isn’t anyone on guard) the pantry and driving off in a car. I’ll admit there really wasn’t an out pouring of support from the group for the man, but a tear is a tear, right? But I was told the tears had to be in sadness. Sorry, no can do. I mean, for Jerry who is the new bitchin’ character on this show, yes. Father Gabriel, no.
As for Father Gabriel? He’s dead now because we’ve all seen enough horror movies to know that the person who sat up in the car as he drove away was probably some deranged killer and we all know what happens next.
“Yeah, a boat, looks like the Minnow…just sit right back”
There’s now a picture of a shipwrecked boat in the opening credits montage – because why not? I guess Oceanside is going to be such a big part of this story this year, that they get their own nod in the credits. I mean, it doesn’t look like that boat from that other show that now doesn’t have a boat, but used have a boat – so I think we’re safe.
“googly eye…no s”
Someone in our group accused Coral of giving Enid googly eyes. I had to correct them. But damn that kid was working his eye patch on her. I think she digs the patch.
“Coral is your second gunman?? The one-eyed kid?”
Really? After Rick states that the group only has two guns we find out that Coral is holding the second one. WTF? The one-eyed kid who has a disturbing habit of siting his guns with the non one-eye?
Negan stated in the previous episode that the kid, “mowed down several of my men with a machine gun”, but I don’t think he should get gun privileges for that since that wasn’t his goal going into the whole situation! His objective was to kill Negan, who he missed in spectacular stormtrooper fashion.
Besides, we’ve already established that most of the women in the group are better shots than him even back when he could make googly eyes. No, give the gun to Sasha and let Coral put his patch to less dangerous uses, like flirting with Enid.
“Pot plants! Pot plants as far as the eye can see”
Come on. Guy thinks he’s king, has dreads (that’s racist) and has a CGI tiger which everyone in the kingdom acts as if it is real (come on guys, we know it’s the emperor’s new tiger). Guys run around in catcher’s chest protectors and think they look cool? And Jerry? Well Jerry is just too happy for a guy who is one mistake away from a Roy Horn type CGI tiger attach. You know they’re smoking something. Those tomato plants are hiding something.
“I’d like to see Ezekiel say, “what the fuck was that story about!!?!?””
The story about the dick king who put a stone in the middle of the road which basically crippled his people. The one who put a bag of gold under it because the person who decided to move the stone should be rewarded. That story. WTF? What was the point?
Oh, and not fair that the little girl in the story lost her family’s beer. That’s boss level dickdom right there! What kind of mother tells this story? But then again, Ezekiel uses Martin Luther King speeches as bedtime stories so I guess that’s just the way the world is in this show.
“OH, and hey Morgan, who did Negan kill? How about the two A list characters that aren’t in the room right now.”
Funniest question of the night was when Morgan asks who Negan killed. Who is not there that you’d care about, Morgan? Carol? No, you know where Carol is. Aaron’s husband? No, no one cares about him. In fact, most viewers were probably like me and totally forgot that Aaron was married because the show doesn’t even care to show much of the relationship because even they know it’s boring. The goat from your award-winning standalone episode? Ask the CGI tiger.
Oh, and I love Rosita throwing shade at Morgan, “think you were right, now?” after telling him who is dead. Ah, he was. He told you not to attack the Saviors. If you’d have listened to him Mother Dick and Pizza Boy would still be alive. But Rosita is bringing the Latino heat tonight (more on that in a moment) so I guess she’s not going to let the facts get in the way of a good burn.
“OK guys what do we want to do for this episode? “Group walking. Lots of group walking.””
Really, this episode puts the ‘Walking’ in The Walking Dead. Cue up the Proclaimer’s “500 miles” at the beginning of the credits and I’m sure it syncs up perfectly with the rest of the show. The group seems to spend 1/3 of the TV time walking in loose group formation. It’s like the scene in Deadpool at the end when they’re epic walking toward the bad guys to DMX. Except none of our group are chrome, has a Sinead O’Conner haircut, regenerates axed limbs or knows DMX. Gripping TV.
I always thought fucking the same dead guy automatically made you friends, or at least pinky buddies. I mean, who else are you going to commiserate with at the funeral? Well not in Rosita’s world. The funny thing is just the episode before when the group all re-united, the sisters in blood gave each other a “we cool” nod and I thought Rosita nodded first. Oh well, just goes to show you Rosita don’t give a damn if you’ve fucked the same dead guy – which I’m hoping will become the new running gag for the show where all the women take turns pegging Rosita’s men – and then the men die.
“This is Negan on 94.7 FM on your radio dial bringing [you] all of the post zombie apocalypse hits”
The team gets a walkie-talkie (courtesy of Jesus because, plot!) to listen in on Negan’s men and we find out that Negan doesn’t really want to be a spaghetti cooking mean girl, husband to 100 women, or ruler of the world. No, all he wants is to be an FM radio disc jockey! Really, Negan’s over the airwaves eulogizing of Fat Joey was funny as shit, not to mention very important information for his men, because you know, now that fat Joey is dead, thin Joey has been promoted to just Joey. You wouldn’t want to make that mistake at the next spaghetti night.
“that was COOL AS FUCK!!”
As totally impractical and impossible as it was, that Slice Capade (credit to the fine folks at Talking Dead for the name) scene was dope as hell. Just when you think you’ve run out of ways to kill a herd of zombies in one glorious CGI blood bath, Scott Gimble and his gang says, “hold our beer” and we get a presentation of zombie purging that just makes you laugh out loud (as opposed to LOL which is an entirely different thing) plus the most impressive demonstration of cable related carnage since Ghost Ship.
Yeah, it was about an 8.5 on the white van impossibility scale, but it still was an awesome visual and a gratuitous reason to toss zombie guts all over the camera.
“He went to find Jesus…doesn’t know he’s one town over”
Where did Father Gabriel go? That question was asked many times throughout the night. I suggested he left to find Jesus. The thing is that in this world finding Jesus is easier than you’d think. He’s usually in the next town over distributing communication equipment. Oh, he goes by Paul now because this time around Jesus is way more down to earth.
“HE SMILED!!!!! HOLY CRAP THE GUY SMILED!!”
When they were in the car after the Slice Capade, Michonne asked Rick to smile but he didn’t. I commented that he couldn’t smile, and then in the last shot, he did. What did he see? Or was it who?
The show’s producers say it was because Rick realizes he’s found his army, but I think he was just happy with all the women because it gives him more dating options because you know Michonne has lived well past the “Rick Grimes love interest” shelf life that this show has established.
And there you have it. Just some random stupid thoughts about a show that just seems to ask for them. Not sure if this will become a weekly thing or not, but you never know. If you liked it, subscribe to find out. If you thought it was shit let me know in the comments. I won’t promise that it will make the next one less shitty, but I will promise that you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you made no impact on its quality what so ever.
If nothing else, I’ll probably be doing a review of Iron Fist when it drops in March, which won’t be the first time I’ve written about the Netflix Marvel universe.
Whether by design or by happenstance, Dogfish Head has been helping me out greatly as of late with a couple of beer releases that apparently have been made specifically to accompany certain everyday activities.
It started with Beer to Listen to Music To, a nice little Belgian Triple that as the name would seem to indicate should pair well with my music listening habits.
But recently DFH took a big leap in the enabling of a more questionable habit by offering up their latest libation in the manner of their stout styled Beer For Breakfast.
Now I don’t have any reprobation about sipping suds at sunrise, after all, I’ve participated in some recreational activities that almost demand you drink a beer regardless of what time it is. You all night BBQers and homebrewers know what I mean, right? That’s right. Get it up there!
But unfortunately there was once a time when my forenoon festivities were not the occasional hobby related indulgence, no sadly I’m talking some “8:30am is the new happy hour” level stuff here. Not to say that my experience is unusual. I’m sure many of you out their have similar stories.
Quickly put, I spent a lot of my early work years in north New Jersey working straight shifts that ran from 11pm to 8am, which meant that many of my (and my fellow employee’s) “Friday nights” often started at 8:20 in the morning at the nearest bar that would cash our paycheck and more often than not, ended when the 11am lunch crowd started to file in with a look of both loathing and disgust on their faces as they realized we’d already been drinking there all morning.
Nothing harshes your Long Island Ice Tea induced breakfast buzz like people who have been working all morning taking seats at the bar while loudly nattering about how Steve once again conveniently forgot that it was his turn to bring in the Friday doughnuts.
Nothing harshes your Long Island Ice Tea induced breakfast buzz like people who have been working all morning taking seats at the bar while loudly nattering about how Steve once again conveniently forgot that it was his turn to bring in the Friday doughnuts. So my morning would usually end with me yelling, “You’re an assistant manager, Steve! Spring for some freaking Krispy Kremes once in awhile you cheap bastard!” as the bar’s manager roughly tried to pry my hands off the door jam as I resisted being tossed out into the sunlight like a vampire in a John Carpenter horror movie.
But I’m older, wiser (don’t laugh) and my job is now a normal 9-5 gig that contains none of the benefits and almost all of the occupational and social stigma from starting to pop tops when you roll out of bed to the annoying buzz of a 7am alarm clock.
But now here comes DFH with Beer For Breakfast, a stout whose ingredients are so Mrs Butterworth meets Juan Valdez it’s as if the brewer is handing me a plate at the beginning of a Golden Corral breakfast buffet line while reassuring me that nothing bad has ever come from drinking 7.4%ABV beers first thing in the morning. I have experience that says otherwise.
This is a coffee stout. Through and through. From the aroma, to the flavor, to the intense blackness in the glass as if like you’re looking into Darth Vadar’s soul.
THEM: From the website, “A stout tricked out with all sorts of breakfast ingredients including Guatemalan Antigua cold press coffee, Maple syrup harvested from Western Massachusetts and for the quintessential Delaware breakfast touch – Rapa Scrapple and their secret blend of spices.
2-row Applewood smoked barley, Kiln Coffee malt, Flaked oats, Roasted barley, Caramel malt along with additions of Molasses, Milk Sugars (lactose), Brown Sugar, Roasted Chicory lay the foundation for this malty, breakfast-themed concoction. Enjoy huge notes of coffee in the nose and savory layers in the flavor.”
Beer for Breakfast clocks in at 7.4%ABV and 30IBU.
THE BUZZ: Beer Advocate 89%, Untappd 3.88, Rate Beer 97%
AVAILABILITY: Readily available in DE.
ME: Before we address the 800 pound post-processed porcine product in the room let’s get to the heart of this beer and the reason I underlined “coffee” and “chicory” in the above description.
This is a coffee stout. Through and through. From the aroma, to the flavor, to the intense blackness in the glass as if like you’re looking into Darth Vadar’s soul. The sugars play nicely together, with hints of maple syrup and brown sugar popping out in the aroma and flavor every now while supplying a velvety mouth feel and sweetness for all that roast flavor to play out on, but Beer For Breakfast never strays to far from its roots, from the the first sniff to the sticky iced coffee after taste.
But let’s prattle the pork….the scrapple! I’ve read a few reviews/comments that say they don’t taste any of the scrapple in the beer. On the one hand, that’s a relief because on the package a Rapa scrapple I opened the other day (by the way, all the women of the Kerper clan from my mom to my great-grandmother salute DFH’s use of Rapa – that’s the stuff right there) listed pork snouts as the third ingredient. Not sure I want to taste that in my beer.
But on the other hand it’s not just the meat that makes scrapple, it’s the blend of spices as well and after about half a glass I could almost convince myself that I was getting some woodsy spices out of the nose, plus a slight warmth like a pepper in the after taste.
If you’re a beer hunter and a DFH fan, you’ve probably already tried this. If you are and you haven’t – there’s nothing here to make me discourage you from giving it a shot, just as long as you remember that the key word here is coffee. As for the casual fan or everyday drinking? Well, at a $15 a six price point I don’t think I’ll be buying too much of it. Your dollars may vary. Having said that, I applaud DFH for at least not dropping it down to a 4-pack. Because in 2017 just like 2016, 4-packs are devil witchery.
Over the last couple months as I have traveled my normal routes in life it has become apparent to me that while I frequent quite a few different liquor stores, no one store fits all my needs. It’s not that these stores are bad in anyway, it’s just that each one seems to be missing that one or two items that another store has that makes me stand in front of the cooler or counter and go, “awwww, you don’t have….”.
So, with that in mind I’ve been musing about what items or attributes a liquor store would have to have to be my all-time one-stop favorite liquor store.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “But Ed, you work 5-minutes from State Line! Surely no liquor store could ever top that!”
Well, yes and no. I mean, it is the store that I grab a shopping cart even if I’m just there to ‘pick up a few things’, spend the most time in (it’s easy to lose track of time in that place), and spend the most money. But even with its vast mind numbing selection, State Line is still missing a few things (unimportant to the rest of the beer buying world but hey, this is my list) that keeps it from being my absolute perfect liquor store.
No, see this isn’t some beer geek pipe dream along the lines of, “my favorite liquor store would sell growlers and Pliney the Younger, Hill Farmstead, Heady Topper, Wicked Weed and Westie 12 would always be on tap, and the coolers would be filled with Trillium –Trillium as far as the eye can see!”
No these are things that liquor stores in my area do actually carry but no one store has all of them but I wish one liquor store in my feeding pattern did. So, do you want to be my favorite liquor store? Here’s what you need:
LOCAL BEERS – A killer selection of local beer is a must, Mispillion, 2SP, Blue Earl on the shelves, Bellefonte, Dew Point, Big Oyster on the growler station, and 3rd Wave on either. No room because of those two rows of Dogfish Head? Well, I guess that’s just the way it is. No room because of that row and a half of 16 Mile? Yeah, we’ll talk.
ARROGANT BASTARD – And I’m not talking about your counter guy who when I asked, “Hey, do you have Mispillion’s Holy Crap?”, responded with, “WHY? Who said that we did?” I’m talking about the beer. You know, my favorite beer? The one which comes in 6-packs of 16oz cans at a price point of about $2 a can? Please? OK, I’ll take the bombers if that’s all you can get. I’m easy. But seriously, you need this beer.
STEEL RESERVE 211 (Black can, seriously, not the silver one) – Sometimes all a dog wants is a beer to sip on while he’s making dinner, and not something that overpowers the already complex process of slapping together Hamburger Helper. This beer fits the bill – crisp, tolerable in flavor, and just the right ABV kick to dust off any acquired crappiness from the work day. Besides, I think occasionally going into a liquor store and buying one or two beers with nothing more than the change I could scrape out of my truck’s cup holder is great practice in case my company decides next year to pack everything up and move west without me. Any breweries out there in need of Media/Communications Manager whose only education/experience is writing a crappy blog and posting fuzzy pictures on Instagram? No? OK, just curious.
ANDRE BRUT CHAMPAGNE – Sunday mornings were made for champagne. I can’t state it any more truthfully than that, and Andre Brut is my go to. But listen, I know you’ll be tempted to, but don’t try to win any points here by up grading to a more expensive bottle. Andre is cheap and serviceable, which unless you’re having company or celebrating something, is all a peaceful Sunday morning requires. Just make sure it’s Brut, because daddy likes his champagne dry. Oh, and feel free to get rid of those 2 cases of Cold Duck if you need to make room because we both know that no one under 65 drinks that stuff.
PEANUTS – Sometimes I like to nibble on something on the drive home, and those little packs of Planter’s peanuts are the best thing going. Smooth, salty and tasty. Should there be a joke here? If feel like there should be a joke here.
This is also a major convenience for those rare occasions when a bottle of Captain Morgan’s rum mysteriously falls into one of my bags. I’m not sure how this happens to me. Let me know if it’s ever happened to you.
1 LITER DIET COKES – Sometimes I like to nibble on something on the drive home, and those little packs of Planter’s peanuts are the best thing going. Smooth, salty and tasty. But with or without a joke, the salt will eventually hit and I’ll need something to drink. Since Delaware frowns on me popping open one of my Steel Reserve 211’s on the ride home, a shot of Coke always does the trick. Diet, please. Caffeine free if you can. This is also a major convenience for those rare occasions when a bottle of Captain Morgan’s rum mysteriously falls into one of my bags. I’m not sure how this happens to me. Let me know if it’s ever happened to you.
DOG TREATS – A lot of people say that dogs are dumb, but I refuse to believe that. Instead, I simply believe that they’re just picky about the things that are important to them (they’re kind of like nerds in that regard). It’s not that his lack of intelligence or thumbs makes it impossible for him to grasp the fundamental function of a torque wrench and therefore renders him useless in helping you change the head gasket in your truck – it’s just not important to him. But figuring out that when you walk into the house with one of those little black bags from the liquor store there is sometimes a dog treat in it, that’s important to him, and he’ll pick that shit up quicker than a dropped slice of bacon. Some liquor stores sell dog biscuits at the counter, and you should too. I recommend you carry biscuits from Baxter’s American Dog Bone Company. Buddy loves them, they’re 100% organic, and family made right up the road in West Chester PA.
AMERICAN SPIRIT YELLOW PACK – This one isn’t for me, heck it’s not even REALLY a requirement. This is Tracey’s smoke of choice and on rare occasions when she asks me as I’m walking out the door to pick her up a pack, it would be nice if I could buy them at the place I’m most likely going to rather than having to make a second stop. Granted, sometimes that second stop is only the grueling 35 foot walk to the Walgreens next to the liquor store, but it feels a lot farther when you’re muling two bags of booze. Plus, sometimes the wild dogs that run in packs around our town try to steal Buddy’s treat. And let’s not mention the hordes of Girl Scouts that sometimes block the doors while demanding in a Negan-like manner that you buy their cookies. Yeah, it’s pretty apocalyptic over here.
Is that it? Well, I think anything else would pretty much be covered under the banner “liquor store”, you know, ice, wine, port, the basic stock items. I would like to ban lottery machines and sports betting from my favorite liquor store, because those people hold up the line and are evil, but that probably would make me a dick, and as you all know, Tracey says I can’t be a dick anymore.
So yeah, that’s it. Short, easy list. And if you can pull it off, then YOU can be my favorite liquor store.
Why do cats sit for hours and stare at the thresholds of one room into another? Perhaps it’s due to an old promise.
[Author’s Note – if Oliver Gray didn’t invent Beer Fiction he certainly embraced and championed it. Struck by the torrents of same-old-same-old beer reviews out there, Oliver would often offer a different perspective – he would open a beer and write a story based off of it. Sometimes the story was just a play off of the title, but a lot of times he tried to capture his experience of the beer (did he like it, hate it) within his words, and as a writer he always seemed to succeed. Check out his story from his experiences with a certain Dogfish Head beer that I was fortunate enough for him to have written for a guest post on my blog.
I’ve tried on occasion, but haven’t done anything along these lines in awhile, but this one spoke to me pretty strongly and since it is the Halloween season, I thought it seemed very appropriate.]
The man walked out of the kitchen and through the dining room. The cat, always alert, was already aware of his approach from the vibrations softly reverberating out through the wooden floor beneath him.
As the man crossed the threshold between the dining room and the hallway he spoke out loud to the cat before turning down the hall. The cat, requiring nothing from the man at the moment did what most cats do – heeded him no mind but instead remained focused on the passageway the man had just transverse.
The hallway was now quiet and dark except for a small streak of light and the sounds of running water, and the cat thought that soon he would be able to rest for the night after all the dwellers of the house retired to their beds.
But just as the cat began to close his eyes he caught sight of something. It was the faintest of movements that would have been imperceptible to most anything else, a dark shape that had begun to appear in the threshold between the dining room and the hallway where the man had just walked through.
The cat froze and stilled its breath as the mist swayed from side to side as if curiously surveying its surrounds. Its movements were both convulsive and fluid all at once as some of parts of the mist slowly drifted from its main body like dew fog creeping through the grass on a chilled morning, while others swirled and eddied much like the smoke from the man’s pipe.
The mist hung motionless for a few seconds and then, as if startled to find it was not alone, began contracting in on itself as its motions became almost like vibrations of a guitar string.
Finally, as if satisfied by the situation, the mist continued to flow from the opening between the two rooms until it was fully formed in the hallway. The cat watched patiently as the mist coalesced in front of it, some areas appearing nearly transparent through its vapor, while other parts were as dark as the blackest night the cat could remember.
The mist hung motionless for a few seconds and then, as if startled to find it was not alone, began contracting in on itself as its motions became almost like vibrations of a guitar string.
“Welcome traveler! Have you journeyed far this evening?” the cat greeted the mist in a language long since forgotten by all but those who had promised to keep watch.
The mist responded quickly to the cat’s introduction by pulling back several inches, its undulations now less rhythmic as they became more erratic and frenzied.
“Be calm, be calm,” the cat continued, attempting to sound as reassuring as possible. “I only wish to talk.”
The mist continued its frantic convulsions for a bit and then seemed to relax, allowing itself to expand and drift slightly towards the cat’s position.
“Ah, but I see you are young gentle traveler and no doubt weary from your trip. Therefore, I will be a generous host and bid you rest a bit. But once rested, I’m afraid that I must ask you to continue on your travels elsewhere or better still return to your own home.”
The mist floated motionless for a few seconds and then started to slowly drift down the hallway only to stop when the cat quickly sprang to its feet.
“I have shown you more graciousness than is normal for my kind or my post, young one. Surely you would not be so insulting as to return that graciousness by disrespecting my wishes?”
The mist halted its movement quickly, its undulations suddenly becoming more steadied and forceful.
“Stay? No young traveler. That I cannot let you do. You will take my offer to return home, which sadly I most now say is no longer a request.”
Just as the cat finished his sentence the mist began to swirl, violently folding in on itself, all hints of transparency gone while at the same time slowly growing in size until it was slightly larger than the cat itself.
The cat backed up one step not in fear, but to better position himself to drop into a crouch, his ears dropping back against his head which caused his eyes to pull back into slits. “That would be unwise of you little one. For although I too am little, the blood of the first cat flows through me. My claws are shape, and my spirit is bolstered by all the cats that have come before me and I have NOT forgotten my duty.”
The mist froze motionless almost as if startled by the cat’s words. After a few tense seconds the mist’s swirling began anew, but this time almost in reverse as it began to recede back into itself. Once back to its original size the mist pulsed from side to side slightly as if unsure of what to do next.
The cat turned its head slightly in puzzlement at the mist’s motions. “Duty? You ask of my duty? Do they not tell you the stories anymore where you come from? Do they let their young ones travel in ignorance?”
And the cat told the traveler a story, a story as old as time, once known by many, now only remembered by few. A story that starts when the world was ruled by animals and the most feared among them were the great cats.
The mist just hung there, slightly hovering inches off the floor as if it did not have an answer for the cat.
“Ah, such as it is here I’m afraid,” the cat raised its long body back up in a stretch before sitting itself down on the floor. “Then I guess it is up to me, young one.”
And the cat told the traveler a story, a story as old as time, once known by many, now only remembered by few. A story that starts when the world was ruled by animals and the most feared among them were the great cats.
That is until one day another animal, who would later be called man, rose up from the rest with their ability to fashion tools and harness fire. While many of the animals thought that one day they would rule supreme, it was man, who proved the most resourceful and before long began to hold dominion over the world.
But as man grew more powerful and spread throughout the lands they encounted great dangers. Not just the normal dangers brought from everyday living, but other dangers, dangers that traveled in the dark, both unseen and unstoppable.
Where these dangers came from man did not and still does not know, however as oblivious as they were to these danger’s origins, over time they become keenly aware of their existence and the taxing toll they brought.
One day, as the story goes, a priest was visited in a dream by Bastet the Goddess of protection whose worshipers said would often appear to men in a variety of cat like forms, and offered the priest a deal. If mankind would place cats above all other animals, second only to man, the Goddess promised that her and her kind would protect man from many of the dangers that plagued them, include the ones beyond their human perceptions.
The priest waited not until morning, but went directly unto Pharaoh that night and relayed the Goddess’ message. And the Pharaoh, having spent much of his reign watching his people fall to numerous aliments and diseases both known and unknown, accepted the Goddess’ offer and began to elevate cats in his kingdom to a status formally reserved only for the Gods.
“And that was the beginning,” the cat continued a sly smile coming across its up till now serious face. “Soon the number of cats grew in the kingdom. Cats were welcomed in all houses, be it the lowest of workers to the mightiest of Pharaohs. Great images were erected in our honor. We became known as the guardians of the thresholds as our figures adorned the doorways of the most common of buildings and statues in our like guarded the grandest of temple entrances.
“From alabaster to bronze to gold, no material was too valuable or too precious not to be used to fashion into our likeness. To kill one of us, even by accident was to bring death upon a person. We protected man from the dangers they feared, both those they could see and those that they could not, and we prospered.”
The mist, having moved not a wisp as the cat recounted its story, slowly began to pulse ever so slightly.
“No,” the cat said sadly as it bowed its head. “Just as it seems your kind has forgotten to pass on the stories to you, so has it been with man. Although they still adorn our likeness on many of the things they make, the reverence of why they should be doing so has been lost. Our pact has been forgotten by them, our story faded over time.”
“Even by the time of the great death our status among mankind had dwindled. Oh, there were many that still treated us kindly, but others treated us as callously as they treated the vermin that was spreading the sickness within their cities. We were cast out to the streets to fend for ourselves. Children threw rocks at us for sport. Our lives and the lives of our kittens had become insignificant, almost disposable to the race who had once worshiped us. But still we continued to honor Bastet’s promise, to guard the houses of man from the pestilence that would attempt to enter their houses at night.”
And with that, the mist fluctuated violently as if suddenly agitated by the cat’s words, only to finally stop when the cat stood up. “Why? Because Bastet made the pact with the humans. She forged the agreement with her words and bound it with the spirits of all the cats who had come before or have yet to come, and therefore only her words can break it and despite all that has happened, all that we have been reduced to, she has yet to do so. Regardless of what we have become, you will find no cat that will break her promise.”
“So with that said, I have been more than patient with you, young traveler. I have let you stay here longer than I should or than any other of my kind would, so I say for the final time, you will return from where you came.”
The mist did nothing. Not a wisp-like tendril nor a fluctuation from within its dark shape until slowly, quite deliberately it began to recede back to the opening between the two rooms. As the mist began to cross the threshold from whence it first appeared, it began to fade from the cat’s keen eyesight until only a small amount was left.
“Do me a favor young one in return for the courtesy I have shown you tonight. Tell your kind my story. Remind them of the pact my kind has made. Impress upon them that for reasons, that sadly may not even be of their own doing, they are not welcome here. And assure them young traveler, that although mankind may have forgotten our charge, we cats have not.”
The cat straightened up with a sense of pride, “We still guard the thresholds.” With the cat’s final words, the mist totally disappeared into the darkness, back to a place the cat knew not where.
Quite content with itself the cat took a few minutes to do a quick grooming before once again settling down on the hardwood floor. By now the sound of the running water had stopped and the hallway had gone quiet.
Finally, the man came out of the small room and walked into the room where he slept, pausing only momentarily to glance back down the hall and speak out loud in the cat’s direction. The cat turned its head in the man’s direction, not because of the words the man spoke, but to watch as the man walked through the doorway into his bedroom.
And the cat watched, remembering Bastet’s promise. But this time the threshold remained still, so the cat lowered its head and closed its eyes. The dwellers of the house would sleep through the night, so he too could rest for a while.
And just as the cat began to dose off and the last traces of reality slipped from his mind to be replaced by the siren like song of Morpheus, a voice sounded in the distance. It was weak, as if it had traveled untold distances to finally reach him. A voice that he didn’t recognize, but seemed as familiar to him as if it were his own.
“You have kept my promise well, my child. You have earned your rest.”
As I’ve stated before, interesting packaging on beer and wine shelves will always grab my attention and by extension, an interesting or playful name will also entice me to pick up a bottle to learn more about the contents. Especially if the name reflects either a pop culture reference or a witty play on words.
Today I want to talk about Magic Hat’s Wilhelm Scream, their yearly pumpkin beer that appears as part of their Night of the Living Dead (itself a timely pop culture reference) sampler 12-pack.
Many people may not know of the over 60-year history that marks the Wilhelm scream as one of the most iconic and storied screams in movie history…
…or how it found its way through well over 250 movies, TV shows, cartoons, and even commercials to end up on the label of said Magic Hat beer. To understand that journey, let’s set the Way-Back Machine to 1951.
New York, USA, 1951 to be precise. Warner Brothers studio is set to release its latest film entitled “Distant Drums”, what a film student would describe as a ‘Florida Western’ that over all probably wouldn’t have been very remarkable (except for starring screen legend Cary Grant) if it had not been for a certain alligator.
Taking place in the Everglades the film makers simply couldn’t resist a good old fashioned alligator attach (who could!) and quicker than you can sing, “Wally Gator is a swinging alligator in the swamp.” some poor soldier is being death rolled in the marshy water. The scream of the soldier as he’s being pulled to his untimely end was recorded later as part of a series of screams that were used throughout the film.
Warner Brothers at the time had an extensive sound library and once the cut of the scream was archived inside it the effect began popping up in all manner of movies. How often? Well, often enough that USC cinematic student Ben Burtt started to get the funny feeling as he watched certain movies that he’d heard a particular scream before.
And he was correct. By the time Burtt and his friends realized that the scream had become a somewhat go-to sound effect it had already been used in a number of films including “The Charge at Feather River”, “Them!”, “PT-109”, “The Green Berets”, as well as many TV shows produced by Warner Brothers in the 50s and 60s.
Burtt had discovered a sound effect that might have simply remained nothing more than an audio curiosity except that Ben Burtt went on to become a legend in modern movie sound design whose career ignited when a friend by the name of George Lucas asked him if he’d be interested in doing the sound for a film he was working on. Yep. THAT film.
As fate would have it, during filming Burtt actually stumbled upon the original recording labeled “Man being eaten by alligator” in the archive, and referred to it as “The Wilhelm Scream” after the character in “The Charge at Feather River” who seemingly lets out the scream after being shot with an arrow, and proceeded to use it like an audio version of a watermark.
Burtt dropped the scream into a “Star Wars: A New Hope” scene where Luke shoots a Stormtrooper who then falls off a ledge, and he never looked back, including it in not only the subsequent movies in the Star Wars franchise but also the Indiana Jones movies. But in 2005 when he joined Pixar to work on their upcoming film “Wall-E”, Burtt announced that he wouldn’t be using the Wilhelm Scream anymore.
But by then more studios had access to the sound bite and its use in movies and TV just exploded. Soon everyone from Indy film makers to top tier directors like Joe Dante, Peter Jackson, and Quinten Tarantino were placing the scream into their films in an effort to keep the gag running.
The Wilhelm Scream has become an audio meme, one-to-two seconds of sound that continues to get proliferated by many in the film industry who hear the story. So well know is the scream among film geeks that many of them (including a couple of my Facebook friends) swear they can recognize it every time in any movie its in. Give a listen and see if you’ve ever heard it before:
Is Magic Hat’s beer up to all that fabulous nerdy history? Let’s taste.
THEM: Wilhelm Scream is built on a bill of Pale, Victory, Caramel 80L, and Caramel 120L which is then balanced with Apollo and Nugget hops. An English ale yeast is used to ferment the beer to 5.4%ABV. The beer clocks in at 20IBUs and 22SRM.
From the website, “Wilhelm Scream is ripe with fall flavors of pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg and caramel malts. Medium-bodied and the color of orange setting suns, it finishes similar to the way we finish summer: with just a hint of bitterness.”
DELAWARE AVAILABLE: Most liquor stores that carry a good variety of beers. Only available in the variety 12-pack.
ME: The base beer almost strikes me as a brown ale, but it’s a little lighter, almost copper color when you hold it up to the light. The spice hits your nose as you pour it into the glass, the quick but energetic head pulling the fragrances out of the liquid and easily dispersing them into the air.
The initial taste almost has a tea like quality with maybe a touch of grains and then the spice comes in. You know them – cinnamon, nutmeg, maybe a few others. While there is indeed nothing amazing here, that’s kind of what Magic Hat beers are and listen, I don’t mean that in a negative way.
Look, I’m aware that some people give Magic Hat a bit of shit because of various reasons, but I’ve always found them to make pretty serviceable beers and this one is no exception. I mean are you going to want to mule 8 cases of it from Vermont on a midnight beer run – no.
But it’s a well constructed, balanced pumpkin beer that doesn’t kill you with the spices and since it’s part of a variety 12-pack, you don’t have to drink 6 of them if it turns out that Wilhelm Scream is not your cup of pumpkin and between you and me, Vamplifier is pretty tasty as well.
[UPDATE: The list was updated on 10/4 as beers continue to pour out of the TTB. Not only are keg labels being approved for Amber Sun, but now labels for Blues Golden Ale mixed with various flavors are also being approved. The Updated list is below.]
The TTB (Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau) is the government agency that over sees much of what goes on in the world of beer, wine, mead and cider. Among their duties is (where required) the approval of labeling that appears on these products.
The TTB releases approved labels on their website’s database. This is how sites like mine and My Beer Buzz get the label information we do before the beer hits the shelves or cooler.
For me, it’s pretty simple. Delaware is a quite state compared to some and a routine check now and then usually only unveils a label or two, most of which are keg labels that I don’t normally share because there’s normally nothing interesting on the label beyond the name of the beer.
So I was shocked this morning when I checked the database and found that the tally of new labels approved for Delaware within the last month now stood at 54, when a check a couple of days ago showed it solidly in the low 20s. What happened?
Well, 16 Mile happened. And they happened big time.
Apparently the brewery will be dosing their Amber Sun ale with – well almost everything under the sun. All the beers at this point appear to be keg only as shown by the example label below and as the list of approved labels appeared in almost perfect alphabetical order (not how the TTB presents them in the database) and ends with the letter C, I’m left wondering if there’s more to come.
What’s this all about? No idea, but color me intrigued.
Below is the list of all the 16 Mile beers that the TTB approved keg labels for. As I stated above each one is described as “Amber Sun ale with…”