Beer stories

A peaceful evening at the Zürisee - the lake of Zurich in local words - can be sometimes difficult to imagine. Lots of people flock to the piers to have a drink, to wait for the local ship for a cruise or just to be hauled over the see, but most of them are there just to walk along the shore and have a relaxed chatter. On the lake, around the few pedal boats lazily drift spotless dinghies or whatever other yacht classes the better off folks can afford to keep on the lake. Keeping the boats on the lake seems to be a whole story, having to move them away in winter but honestly said, I don’t care - I find sailing boring anyway. Myself, I came to the lake only to enjoy a quiet read, a thing I wasn’t able to do since… ever, feels like. Being vacation time and also weekend there’s barely somebody left in Zurich, so there’s no loud laughter, no pick-nick baskets and the terraces are half deserted. I chose a bank directly by the lake and opened the bottle I brought along - an Old World Russian Imperial Stout by the crazy Scots from BrewDog. Until I reached the perfect spot the beer lost some of its chill, but should I mind? Only bad beers really need chilling to be palatable and this stout is in no way related to those. The over 9% ABV can be felt only in the warmth down the throat  because the delicious malt taste, full bodied and without being sweet takes you over completely. Bitter smooth, burnt chocolate tingles your buds, and I know I’m not used to write such things but this dark opaqueness really knocked me over. Add to it the lake’s faint smell and its waves almost splashing over the border, the fantastic story of Michael Moorcock, and the evening couldn’t have been any better.

Where’s the entire Zurich gone? They can’t be all on vacation, all at the same time, leaving the streets on a Friday late evening so depressingly empty… it’s only 11pm and the usually lively Niederdorf - old center of Zurich - looks almost abandoned. A few souls here and there haunting around in the neon yellow streetlights or the blue underground station atmosphere, there’s an out of this world feeling… and rightly so, as the this whole world decided to disappear for a summer retreat, even if only for the weekend. Just not me, I still have to go to work, damnit. But… not now, as Friday evening is for beer! The relatively new metal&rock bar Ebrietas doesn’t brag with a huge selection of beers, heck I couldn’t even get a menu list. Still, you’ll discover here a selection way beyond the average 2-3 sorts local bars usually carry. And hey, it’s called Ebrietas, so let’s start imbibing. With this Brooklyn Brown Ale I landed a nice brew. I just like these dark but not overly malty ales, which allow my unexperienced taste enjoy more nuances coming from other aromas, almost nutty in this particular case. Good and thick beer to sip, good music I didn’t get a chance to hear since ages (yes Rammstein, don’t hate me for ignoring you for so long), nice decoration - again rather unexpected from my experience with metal bars, a promise of a funny concert next evening with a bunch of local metal and punk bands, and a handwritten flyer… all fine but at some point you’ll have to head back home, back through the deserted streets flooded with this eerie yellow mist only accentuated by the apparently (in hindsight) dirty lens and my inability to manage the focus on the darn new phone.

thehighguybenblaze:

I need some of these for my next late night beach bonfire

Howgh.

thehighguybenblaze:

I need some of these for my next late night beach bonfire

Howgh.

(via mindbodysoulandbeer)

microbrewery-is-easy:

You don’t have to sell beer..
Get Drunk All Night: Follow Microbrewery on Tumblr!

microbrewery-is-easy:

You don’t have to sell beer..

Get Drunk All Night: Follow Microbrewery on Tumblr!

hopshack:

bobbycaputo:

The Best and Worst Foods to Cure a Hangover

Definitely need some of this

Just noting how the science level of the article plummets into the negative zone. Vasoconstrictor = swelling of blood cells? Whatta…?!?

hopshack:

bobbycaputo:

The Best and Worst Foods to Cure a Hangover

Definitely need some of this

Just noting how the science level of the article plummets into the negative zone. Vasoconstrictor = swelling of blood cells? Whatta…?!?

There’s a life outside the World Cup! A good one, I must mention, especially when the Bierhalle Wolf restaurant is involved. Somehow we grew into this tradition that every birthday in the family should be marked with a visit to this all-year-round-Oktoberfest-tavern. For my birthday I only managed to get a minor adjournment until having to dive again, head first, in the yodler-schlager-polka milieu of central Zurich. Juu-huii! The only football references were the tablecloths, fashionably lawn-green with white markings, and the all present flags - even though the fllags were rather EU-style, with Ireland and Sweden and some other nations which didn’t make it to the finals. Well, Ingrid and the rest of her Austrian band, from Styria to be more precise, didn’t mention anything about games. The Steirer Boys did their thing and raised as usual the people on their chairs (chairs, as standing on the table is strictly verboten) - people which waved, clapped, whistled and yelled along whenever they happened to know the lyrics (or not). Who didn’t want to stand at least swayed - I mean schunkeln - or cheered, played frisbee with the beer coasters and all in all had a decent Friday evening fun. I got this time a generous plate of “Zürich Geschnezeltes” - beef with a mushrooms and cream sauce, served with rösti and a puny slice of tomato for the necessary vitamins (not overdoing it). What’s that “rösti” you will ask? Well, some other time about it - suffice to say it’s about potatoes. The beer couldn’t miss from this picture, obviously. This Eichhof dark lager showed up in a liter mug (called “Mass”) and made a fine impression. Dark copper under a short lived head, this Swiss beer tasted light, somehow like slightly roasted turf. Yes, Hubertus Dunkel is probably not the best selection for a heavy diner but… I was happy, everybody else even happier, so let the beer flow.

ichoosecake:

On first look I thought this a wonderful dichotomy of digital from analog, using light emitting diodes (led) inside of vacuum tubes.  But on closer look it appears that each numeral may itself be a neon tube lighted in sequence.

Some youngsters never met ‘em Nixie tubes :)

ichoosecake:

On first look I thought this a wonderful dichotomy of digital from analog, using light emitting diodes (led) inside of vacuum tubes.  But on closer look it appears that each numeral may itself be a neon tube lighted in sequence.

Some youngsters never met ‘em Nixie tubes :)

(Source: generic-art)

Every year, the small municipality of Obersiggenthal in northern Switzerland organizes the “Feast of the nations”. All the 86 (eighty-six, right!) different nations registered at this community of 8500 souls (just 8,5 thousands, right!) are invited to participate with a booth, where they are expected to present and sell specialties from their region. This year only slightly over 20 nations answered the challenge but this was more than enough to fill the quite small village square of Nussbaumen - biggest village of the three forming the municipality.

You’d get there yummy apple pies from Bosnia Herzegovina, sweet malt drinks from Angola, Swiss sausages, French “crêpes” or great looking - although a tad salty - “asado”, grilled beef according to Paraguayan customs. At the Kenyan booth I got a… beer. Not exactly the first place springing to mind when you go looking for beers, you’d say. Prejudices aside, the Tusker pale lager wasn’t bad. Weak, right, but probably also the right brew for those hot areas, it tasted ok with nothing notably wrong (except that weakness). Really, I was pleasantly surprised - if I ever go to Kenya I’m covered.

The local Romanian club built their own booth with Romanian food and drinks (some other time about these). Most notably, they invited a fashion designer for a show with blouses inspired by traditional Romanian garb. The show itself in the village hall was so so, people still watched it because outside it was raining cats and dogs. However when the sun managed to shine for a short while at least and the girls rushed outside to grab a few group photos, first just a couple of gawkers stopped by, then another few, finally half the village gathered around to ogle them. This for like ten minutes until rain began again to methodically soak everybody so we all ran - again - for cover.

Except the news.

Except the news.

(Source: beerbottleboogie)