BIG BEER YEAR

What is it about lists? We all make them – mental, digital, cocktail napkin. Lists relieve stress and help focus the mind. Scientists who study such human behavior have concluded that we make lists to bring order out of chaos and to organize the overwhelming. Lists were first mentioned by William Shakespeare in Hamlet (though I’m sure they’d been around for much longer). There are many types of lists – Top 10, To-Do, Bucket, Shopping, Honey Do, Wish. I could go on and on but instead I’ll focus on one particular list, the life list.

We all know that bird watchers (birders) often keep a life list. A place to record all of the bird species they’ve seen. Some birders are competitive about their list while others are more casual. A life list is a source of personal satisfaction. I’ve kept a bird life list since the late 1970s. It’s fun to jot down each new species. Looking over my list brings back memories of adventures, places I’ve visited and the birds I’ve seen. My list is a memento and a way to collect my observations. Since there are 914 species in North America alone, the making of a life list lasts for many, many years.

Some birders take things a step further and go on a Big Year. It’s a focused effort to see how many species they can spot in one year. The first Big Year happened back in 1939 when traveling salesman Guy Emerson saw 497 different birds.

Why am I talking about birdwatching? I thought this was about beer?

Last November I was visiting St. Paul, Minnesota for the National Association of Interpretation’s annual workshop. It’s a bunch of park rangers, naturalists and outdoor educators and as you might have guessed, full of life listers. As part of the workshop, I was presenting an interpretive beer tasting. Something I’d done a few times before.

I wanted to give the tasting a Minnesota focus so I selected 8 beers brewed in Minnesota, one from Wisconsin and one from Texas. The Texas brew, Lone Star, was the only one I’d ever tasted. Some research was required but I only had 2½ days before the tasting. No pressure.

Enter Dave Hansen, my cousin, Minnesota native and all-around great guy. He volunteered to be my North Star State beer connection. Just like a skilled backwoods guide, Dave raced me around the Twin Cities looking for and tasting different local brews. We visited a brewery and even drove into Wisconsin for one particularly tasty sample.

By the end of the week I had tasted 30 beers. It seemed like a good time to start a new life list, a beer life list. Now I’ve tasted a few beers over the years and I could have tried to remember all of them. Instead I made Minnesota my starting point. Beer #1 was August Schell’s Pils brewed in New Ulm, Minnesota since1860.

A few more weeks went by and another idea began to ferment. My thoughts about bird watching, beer and list making started to flocculate. Why not go on a Big Beer Year? How many beers could I taste in a year? I already had 30 thanks to Cousin Dave, NAI and Minnesota. I was up for the challenge. In talking with my sweet wife and our neighbor Jenn at a Sunday evening Wine & Whine “book club” meeting, it all came together. I’d go on a quest to see how many beers I could try by December 5, 2012. It seemed fitting since it’s the day back in 1933 when Prohibition was repealed – a.k.a. Cinco de Drinko.

Jenn suggested that I make it a contest and award prizes. Get folks involved. We had a plan. People could predict what my magic number would be on Cinco de Drinko and the closest number would win some of my delicious homebrew. Instead of a fee to enter, all folks had to do was go on-line and make a donation to the Alameda County Community Food Bank.

After a slow start in December and January, my numbers picked up with a couple of HEAD Trips, a beer festival and our vacation at Spring Training. By mid-May, I’d reached #300 with a Bud Light at a San Jose Giants’ game. I was well on my way to Beer Life List glory.

On June 30^th, Liz & I presented a beer tasting at the Sulphur Creek Nature Center. The tasting was a fundraiser for their bat education program. “Bats & Brews” was a lot of fun and I picked up 5 for my list including #400 – Heretic Shallow Grave Porter.

At our July 4^th BBQ and fireworks extravaganza, many of you brought me exotic and obscure beers to taste. Some were good. Let me leave it at that. My total continued to climb. Throw in the A’s Beer Fest, Giants’ Brew Fest, a couple of NAI Region 9 Meet Ups, lunch at two brewpubs and I hit #500. It was at the Tied House Brewery in Mountain View on July 22.

As of today the total stands at #564. The HEAD Society’s Irish Coffee Night was a big boost. Bobby, Jenn, Joan, James, Jessica and Liz went above and beyond – 21 beers in one night. And no, I didn’t drink 21 glasses of beer. If I had, someone else would be posting my obituary. It was a team effort. We shared the beers and rated them using the HEAD Society’s official 5-Point Scale.

5/5 = Ahh!

4/5 = Yummers!
3/5 = OK
2/5 = Enh…
1/5 = Flah!

Many of you, well 19, have made a donation and submitted your number. The predictions range from 425 to 1,200. Others have looked on from the sidelines. Procrastination won’t win you a case of my tasty, tasty garage-brewed beer.

If you haven’t entered the contest, it’s not too late! Do it today! Go to www.accfb.org, make a donation and send me your number. It’s the right thing to do!

If you’ve already entered but I’m about to blow through your low ball guess you can get a second chance! Make another donation and pick a new number. It’s that easy!

Help the cause! Feel free to bring over some beers. I’ll share them with you and my list will grow. Got a favorite pub, ale house or brewpub? Let’s plan a trip. My Beer Life List is only as long as our dedication to the quest. Cinco de Drinko is just four months away.

IRISH COFFEE NIGHT II - ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE

Ok, Ira wants me to post a blog entry about our last HEAD Trip, Irish Coffee Night, and I want to - I really do - but some of the details are a little hazy. Actually, most of the details are hazy but he really wants me to write this so I guess I'll stick to the parts I remember...bear with me...

We got to the Buena Vista and the vista was indeed buena, especially as the sun sank behind the Golden Gate Bridge. Bobby was such a gentleman that he traded spots with me when he noticed I had my eyes screwed shut against the blazing sun. I really need to find my sunglasses.

We ordered a round of Irish Coffee and settled back to enjoy the company, the ambiance and the after-image of the bridge burned into my retinas by the setting sun. It was relaxing and very San Francisco circa 1965. The coffee came and it was delicious, so delicious that I and a few of (all) my table mates slurped them down like dogs going after anything that falls on the kitchen floor.

So we ordered another round or two and watched the bartender make them. It was cool in a kind of almost-an-assembly-line-but-better-'cause-its-not-a-robot kind of way. Watching him line up all those glasses, pour in boiling water, dump it out, put in sugar cubes, pour in coffee, then whiskey, then dump whipped cream on top was fascinating and grew ever more so as the Irish part of the coffee took hold.

Aside from guzzling spiked coffee, there was conversation going on, much of which involved Ira's beer quest. Jenn, who is determined that Ira will at least approach her whopping guess of 1,006, suggested that we go hunting for different types of beer. So we called for the check. We spent $114 on Irish coffee! It was good and all, but wow! The happiest person in the bar was our waitress because we are really good tippers and our desire to tip is directly proportional to the amount of Irish in our coffee...

Off we meandered to a few more bars where I discovered that I was a willing receptacle for most of the brew other people didn't like. Maybe I didn't like them either, I don't know. I do have to apologize to Bobby, though, as he had a pint that he liked a lot and I sucked most of it down when he was distracted. Sorry Bobby. He was distracted by a bunch of German tourists who are now our best friends and I think are spending next Christmas with Joan. I still want to know who the hell we sang happy birthday to. Maybe its on YouTube.

This is where it begins to get fuzzy. I know we decided that we were hungry and that only bar food would do. I remember buffalo, blue cheese mac and cheese and buffalo tater tots. There were fries, tacos, quesadillas, and, oh yeah, more beer. If any of my stroke doctors read this, I am so toast, but we had fun and the food was cholesterfyingly delish! Oh, I have to apologize to Jess for eating so many of her tots. Sorry Jess.

I remember walking, singing, some stairs (successfully navigated!) and getting home. I have no bruises, rashes or animal bites and, aside from a few friends, no cops have stopped by, so it was a good night. And I promise I won't do it again. Until next year...

Irish Coffee Day

This Saturday, July 28^th, is a holiday worth celebrating. Which holiday you ask? Why it’s Irish Coffee Day and it’s an official holiday in the City and County of San Francisco. But why not November 10^th? Isn’t that Irish coffee’s real birthday? Let’s explore a little history.

 On July 28, 1849, the first clipper ship arrived in San Francisco. The S.S. Memnon had sailed from New York in only 120 days. Blazing speed when you consider it could take six months for traditional sailing ships to make the same run around Cape Horn. The ship’s mission was to resupply the good people of San Francisco with "the necessities of civilization" - coffee and Irish whiskey.

Fast forward around 100 years and let’s talk about the modern Irish coffee. It was the late 1940s, and Stanton Delaplane found himself stranded in Dublin at Shannon Airport. It was a miserable and stormy winter night and all flights were grounded. An unnamed bartender served a group of tired American travelers hot coffee mixed with Irish whiskey and topped with dollop of cream. Stanton was a well-known travel writer and San Francisco resident.

 Back home, Stanton couldn’t get that wonderful coffee drink off his mind. So on November 10, 1952, Stanton and his friend Jack Koeppler (owner of the Buena Vista Café) set out to perfect the drink Delaplane had enjoyed on that stormy Irish night.  Armed with strong black coffee and bottles of good Irish they went to work. They tried again and again and again but it just wasn’t right. They worked all night until they passed out. One problem they faced was that the cream wouldn’t float on the coffee. San Francisco mayor (and dairy owner) George Christopher suggested that they age the cream for 48 hours. Success! The drink became a San Francisco institution.

 Just one year ago, on Irish Coffee Day, Liz and I sat down at a table in the very same Buena Vista Café – maybe even the very table where Koeppler and Delaplane had sat just 59 years earlier. We ordered Irish coffees and with a toast founded the Historic Eating and Drinking Society. From those humble beginnings, the HEAD Society has grown to fifty-three card carrying members and a vast number of associates.

Want to join the HEAD Society? Explore the Bay Area’s food and drink history? It’s easy, just attend any HEAD Trip and your Co-Grand Poo-Bahs will present you with your (highly prized) life-time membership card.

 The next Society adventure will celebrate both HEAD-A-Versary and Irish Coffee Day on Saturday, July 28 at the historic Buena Vista Café (2765 Hyde St.). We’ll order the first round at 7pm.

See you there! 

GARLIC FRIES, BEER & BASEBALL

HEAD Society members have explored the history of numerous NorCal culinary creations. We’ve roamed the streets of Martinez to find the birthplace of the martini, sipped Irish coffee at the Buena Vista, traced the roots of the “Mission” burrito and tasted our way across North Beach on an Italian Cookie Walk. The latest adventure was a quest for the story behind another Bay Area original, Gilroy Garlic Fries, this aromatic indulgence’s connection to beer and the great game of baseball.

Garlic Fries are an inspired marriage of garlic and French fries. It is said the President Thomas Jefferson, a well-known, Francophile, first served fries to guests in the White House. To give his fried potatoes more ju ne sais quoi, he proclaimed them French.

Garlic, native to Central Asia and a member of the lily family arrived in America in the 1700s from Europe. It mainly used for medical purposes; to keep vampires away, protection from the Evil Eye and the like. They didn’t make the jump America’s kitchens until the 1920s. By that time enough Italian immigrants had arrived in the U.S. to take these potent bulbs into the mainstream.

That brings us to Gilroy. This city, 80 miles south of AT&T Park, was founded in 1870 and named for John Gilroy. He was an American sailor who jumped ship in Monterey back in 1814, married well and became the government official responsible for what became Southern Santa Clara County.

Gilroy was the original center of culinary garlic farming in the U.S. Today California grows 87% of America’s garlic with most of the production centered in Kern and Fresno Counties. Gilroy remains the heart of garlic shipping and dehydration.

We’ve covered fries and garlic but how did these two come together? The answer takes us to Germany. In the 1980s, Dan Gordon (the Gordon in Gordon Biersch) was studying brewing at the Technical University of Munich. After a field trip to some garlic fields, the students were treated to a 10-course meal - each one featuring garlic. The seed, or clove, was planted.

Later during final exams, Dan was craving a late night snack. Inspired by the garlic dinner, he combined garlic and French fires to sustain him through his studies. Later Dan returned to California and partnered with his college buddy and homebrewer, Dean Biersch to open their first brewpub. It was 1988 and Gordon Biersch in Palo Alto opened its doors and kegs. It was here on Emerson Street the Gordon’s study snack became an instant success. Gilroy Garlic Fries became a fixture on the pub’s menu.

A few years later, garlic fries made their first appearance at a Giants’ game. It was 1994 and the G-Men were still playing at Candlestick Park. From the beginning they were a hit as fans lined-up 30 deep to get their garlic fries. Soon they were sold at Giants’ games, 49ers too. They even ventured across the bay to Oaktown for A’s games. When the Giants moved to AT&T Park (yes, I know it was called PacBell back then) garlic fried went along.

After hot dogs, garlic fries are the #1 food item sold at AT&T Park. The potatoes are fried in olive oil and hand tossed in a slurry of garlic and olive oil. Then they’re salted and sprinkled with fresh parsley. In a single Giants’ game, they go through 3 tons (that’s right, tons) of potatoes and 1,000 pounds of garlic. According to Dan Gordon, “Garlic fries and a beer are a complete and balanced meal."                                                                                                         

On July 14, the HEAD Quest began at garlic fry ground zero, Gordon Biersch in Palo Alto. Thanks to some internet coupons, we started the day with four orders of fries and a round of beer. After a wonderful lunch and reeking of garlic, it was off to San Francisco for a Giants’ trifecta. It was the annual pre-game Brew Fest at Seals Plaza by the Marina Gate, plus Matt Cain t-shirt give-away night. After all that it was the Giants vs Astros. Our crew of 16 HEAD Cases, happy from the Brew Fest, free t-shirts in our hands, filled row 13, section 312 to watch Timmy, our Timmy, throw eight shut-out innings. After a blown save in the 9^th, the Giants scored in the 12^th in walk-off style.

Good beer, good fries, good friends. Go Giants!

Prohibition in San Francisco

San Francisco voted overwhelming against Prohibition. In fact, while Los Angeles voted to go dry, the vote in San Francisco was 83% to stay wet. At the time, San Francisco consumed more alcohol per capita than any other city in America. The city’s population favored “pleasant living” and that included a drink or two. Many of San Francisco’s citizens felt that you just couldn’t legislate morality.

The start of Prohibition brought big changes across the country and the Bay Area, but in San Francisco Prohibition was not much more than a rumor. As a port city, San Francisco was pretty wide open during the Noble Experiment’s 13 years.

Not long after America went dry, the Democratic National Convention came to San Francisco. Mayor James Rolph enlisted a group of society ladies who, wearing white dresses, delivered a bottle of bourbon to each delegate. Each bottle was given with “the complements of the City and County of San Francisco”.

Enforcement of the Volstead Act (which enabled Prohibition)  was so lax that Shanty Malone’s Bistro on Turk Street would stage phony police raids to amuse the customers. Across the Bay in Oakland, the Alameda County District Attorney Earl Warren tried to enforce Prohibition.

Supplies of liquor from Canada were brought ashore from ships anchored off the San Mateo, Sonoma or Marin County coasts. Booze coming in from Marin or Sonoma was trucked to Sausalito to be loaded onto ferryboats. The mayor of Sausalito helped smuggle booze into the city’s North Beach neighborhood.

As Treasury agents obtained faster boats the rumrunners found new and secluded landing spots for their “imported” liquor. Some favorites were Paradise Cove in Marin County and Pescadero, Princeton-by-the-Sea and Moss Beach south of the city along the San Mateo coast. In 1927, today’s Moss Beach Distillery, opened as Frank’s Place.  This speakeasy was never raided and was popular with many prominent members of San Francisco society including Dashiell Hammett.

Ships from Vancouver carrying Canadian whiskey would anchor in Half Moon Bay and their cargo was transferred to fast boats, faster than those used by the Revenue Agents. Once they even used a submarine to smuggle the liquor ashore.

No “mob” or organized crime cartel ever developed in San Francisco to control the illegal liquor trade. The reason was simple, the police had no desire to enforce Prohibition and besides they wanted the business for themselves. In San Francisco, Irish-Americans dominated the police and the courts. In a city with a high percentage of foreign born residents, the citizens drank and supported drinking. The Board of Supervisors even passed a resolution telling the police not to enforce the Volstead Act.

In 1922, San Francisco Police Chief Daniel O’Brien oversaw the operation of 1,492 speakeasies.  Saloons, hotels and restaurants who served liquor made payments to the police “widow and orphans fund”. The District Attorney avoided charging bootleggers. One San Francisco’s more famous bootlegger trials, the jury drank the evidence and found the defendant not guilty.

In Italian North Beach, Sicilians tried to control the neighbor liquor trade. The police shut down any up-and-coming Italian mobsters and maintained control.

  

San Francisco found creative ways to supply thirsty citizens. At the Palace Hotel, if you ordered flowers with dinner a bottle of whiskey came in the box along with the bouquet.

The St. Francis Hotel even built a secret floor for liquor storage and a speakeasy in the basement. Another popular speakeasy was the Plush Room.

Prohibition changed social practices by making it fashionable for women to join men in social outings. The Irish and Germans wanted beer, the Italians wanted wine and everyone else favored gin, whiskey and bourbon.

Toward the end of Prohibition, in 1933, there were an estimated 6,000 speakeasys in San Francisco.

Join our next HEAD Trip to explore San Francisco's Prohibition. On Friday, April 27, 2012, we'll start at 6:30pm at the Gold Dust Lounge (247 Powell St. – just two blocks up from Market Street and BART). The Gold Dust opened legally in 1933 but has been serving liquor since 1923. This bar was Bing Crosby’s favorite watering hole. The place is in fight for its very survival. The landlords want to kick-out the lounge in favor of a trendy boutique. The Gold Dust is trying to achieve landmark status but things don’t look good. This may be our last chance to visit this historic saloon.

After our group assembles, we take a quick 2/10 of a mile walk to Jasper’s Corner Tap and Kitchen (401 Taylor St.). It has a pretty good menu and 18 beers on tap. We’re eating here since Bourbon & Branch, in true speakeasy form, just serves cocktails – not food. From Jasper’s it’s just a block to Bourbon & Branch (501 Jones St.). B&B is not just some fake copy of a speakeasy, from 1921 to 1933 it was a real, operating speakeasy.

IRISH CAR BOMBS

Last Saturday was, of course, St. Patrick’s Day. Liz and I were in Yosemite for the National Association of Interpretation (park rangers, naturalists and the like) Region 9 Workshop. After a busy day of networking, amazing scenery, fluffy, fluffy snow and concurrent sessions, Liz and I teamed up for a kick-ass presentation on working with preschoolers. Then there was dinner, John Muir and a lively auction. Liz got a really cool beret and a six-pack of my beer went for $100. Thanks Mike!

Anyway, the evening was far from over. We retired across the way to Camp Curry’s rustic lodge. In the back room we gathered around a long table. We were well supplied with lots of Guinness Stout, Jameson’s Whiskey and Baleys Irish Cream. We had all the makings of the fabled and famous Irish Car Bomb.

Since this is the HEAD Society’s blog, I thought I’d touch on a little history. The Irish Car Bomb is a variation of the classic Boiler Maker. Let me take you back to St. Patrick’s Day 1981. We’re in Wilson’s Saloon, a Norwich, Connecticut, institution. The bartender, Charles Burke Cronin Oat was serving up a drink he called “the IRA”. A pint of stout with a depth charge of Baileys and Kahlua. Oat and his buddies, in the spirit of the holiday, replaced the Kahlua with Jameson’s Irish whiskey. The Irish Car Bomb was born!

It was an immediate hit. The first sip is all stout but it quickly goes milkshake in your mouth. Through the magic of science, the Jameson’s curdles the cream in the Baileys. So, stout, milkshake and to finish it off, a kiss of chocolate. It’s not a sipping drink. The whiskey-cream curdle thing means you’ve got to drink it right down. I refrain from using “chug” since that has the whole frat boy cogitation and we’re much more sophisticated .

The Car Bomb remained a local favorite until it was featured in the 2004 movie “Ladder 49”. John Travolta, Joaquin Phoenix and a handsome band of manly firefighters downing car bombs rocketed the drink into the status of cocktail legend.

So back to Yosemite. I watched Liz down her second and third car bombs. I followed and I swear I heard Irish singing. Thanks to Kelli and Kevin a new Bletz St. Patrick’s Day tradition is born! 

HEAD ache...

I've been remiss in my blogging since our brewery trip to Oakland. I'm sorry, but the actual HEAD trip was very similar to the scouting trip and I didn't want to bore anybody. Well, actually, Jo was there, so that was fun and different, Frank was there, too, and there was a biker chick yelling about her "f*cking dog" in the bar. Plus Wilfred the Bartender made me a Pink Drink. Don't know what was in it, but it was so good I ordered another one and if  floor wasn't slanted and I could have made it to the bar, I might have ordered a third. We also discovered that there is a bathroom there and if you're using it and somebody comes in the storage room, you can...compare notes! Joan and I decided last time that the place needs a bra on the wall so I was prepared to sacrifice my red New Year's one that's so padded it looks like you've got Beanie Babies strapped to your chest, but I forgot to take it...next time.

Anyway, last weekend, we were preparing to embark on a pre-St.Paddy's inspection of The Little Shamrock, the oldest Irish bar in San Francisco. We anticipated a decent sized group-until the phone started to ring. Illness, family responsibility, livelihood...these are lameoid excuses to miss a HEAD trip! The only valid reason to miss an appointment with historical gustatory destiny is that you have to donate an organ to the Giant's pitcher so he can take the mound in the seventh game of the World Series. We would also accept deciding game of the NLCS. Pussies! By the time the carnage ended, it was just me, Ira,and Jenn. Undeterred, we set forth and talked about betrayal all the way to the city.

Jenn, who couldn't be any more San Fancisco if she was a gay man dressed up like a nun, found a great parking lot and off we trotted to try the beer at a place with Social in the name. it was cool and had pretty good food but it was not at all historical and so off we went to Il Romano for pizza. It was good and the waiter was nice, but the coolest thing about the place was it was opened in 1955, which as we all know was a great year for Chevys, Italian restaurants and women (me). The age of the place doesn't make it historical, just mellow, sultry and incredibly wise...

Stuffed with pizza, we waddled over to the Little Shamrock, bellied up to the bar and ordered. Beer for Ira (there are 17 on tap!)white Russian for Jenn, wine for me. Now the other drinks were normal, but my wine was HUGE! The bartender poured the glass almost to the top! I like her very much. While we were nursing our beverages, we noticed a large group of people all dressed up sitting on couches behind us. There was also a little girl in a twirly dress and hairbow sitting at the bar nursing a Shirley Temple and playing Candyland with another patron.

 We got to talking to the cherub and complimenting her dress. Turns out she is the daughter of the owner of the bar! The family was on its was to a wedding and since it was a Muslim wedding, they were getting lubed up ahead of time. The owner, Saeed, is a very nice and generous man who treated us to a round on the house. Now, I had decided to just stick with one glass of vino since it was so huge, but what could I do? I couldn't be impolite...so I said " What the hell, I' m not driving!" and ordered another tub of Savignon Blanc. The rest of the trip is sketchy, but I do remember backgammon, ketchup, trophies and drinking all of Ira's beer because "What the hell, I'm not driving!". There were also burgers and ,sweet potato fries. It was FUN! Sorry y'all missed it...Pussies...