My next day in Brussels, Tuesday 3 October, I took advantage of our friends’ lovely backyard by installing myself with two grocery store bought beers. The cats then did their part by installing themselves on wall and lawn respectively.
If you read my British Beer Bottles post, you would know that I have been cleaning out my room. While in that post I disposed of several bottles that I had never even sampled, this time around I have managed to get rid of several bottles that I did personally consume, some of them even for this blog.
Happy New Year to all my readers! Normally WordPress offers up a pre-made annual report, but this year they either didn’t do that, or I failed to encounter the pertinent notification of offer. No matter the truth, this has given me the opportunity to craft my very own 2016 in Review!
People often ask me, “what’s your favourite beer?” My response is usually along the lines of, “that’s hard to say, because it really depends on the situation, the time of year, the occasion etc. But I can tell you that the best beer I’ve ever had is the Westvleteren 12, a Belgian beer brewed by monks, but it’s so rare and complex that it’s not something I drink very often.”
I might have missed the boat on posting this review, since I don’t think this beer can be found for sale anymore, but on the off chance that someone has a hidden stash and they’re curious what it tasted like in August 2015, read on!
I recently had a delightful, short notice visit from my wonderful friend Kelci, and we decided to spend the evening with some drinks and the turntable. We started out with some homemade rhubarb pie and mugs of Murchie’s Government Street green and black tea blend, accompanied by some of Harmonium’s Si on avait besoin d’une cinquieme saison. Then we moved on to the “hard” stuff.
Part 1 can be found here.
Around the fire were two couples, and they were drinking beers while listening to Led Zeppelin. Lots of Led Zeppelin; all night long. I was impressed. The wives did not talk much, but their husbands sure made up for it. Their names were Bobby and Jim, and they were both Vietnam War veterans. As a Canadian, this was a demographic that I was unlikely to ever encounter back home, so despite how much overlap there truly is in the Canadian and the American experience, this would certainly be a treat for me. They quickly got me involved in their game of blow darts, which involved shooting foot long darts out of a long pipe towards a target which was about twenty feet away. When I reasoned that my beer intake was starting to affect my aim, I bowed out of the competition. Jim would not be reigned in so easily though, and he began to flip throwing knives up into the air in an attempt to have them land point down in a target near his feet. Bobby admonished him that one day he might stab his own foot, and that got us onto the lovely topic of healthcare.