Bidding a Fond Farewell to Beer Week 2009

There were so many activities taking place across the city of San Diego these past ten days involving beer and food that I suspect if I had involved myself in even one-tenth of them, I'd be bloated and inebriated and probably lying in a prone position. As it is, with the wife off in the highlands of New Mexico, breathing in the thin, cool air of 7,000 feet and partaking in multi-part spa sessions, I chose to sit out the vast majority of beer-related activities. Some see drinking as a solitary existence. I feel I experienced quite enough of that during her last deployment, and prefer both company and the comforts of home as a backdrop to my alcohol intake.

However. I did manage to experience a few San Diego Beer Week activities, enough to convince me that our fine southwestern city has the proverbial dog in the fight against weak, yellow, fizzy piss-swill that passes for beer in many of the bars and liquor stores across this great land of ours. I think the last time I sipped the liquid dreck that is Miller / Bud / Coors / Whatever was during the Green Bay Packers' ill-fated scramble towards the NFC Conference Championship, which I observed perched on a squeaky bar stool in one of San Diego's countless Irish-themed bars. Glued to the plasma and marvelling at the vast amounts of snow swirling around the Packers and Giants, I ordered a draft for each quarter, which helped increase the camaraderie I felt for the fellow GB fans around me and cushioned the blow of disappointment as the game spiralled into overtime, countless interceptions and a loss at Lambeau Field. Somewhere during the third quarter, the attractive barmaid (is that term even used any more these days?) slid a tall glass of undistinguished yellow liquid in front of me, saying she couldn't remember who ordered it, nobody was laying claim to it, and I could have it. Free beer is free beer, I remember thinking to myself, and set about quaffing it down somewhere around the time Mason Crosby trotted out to kick a field goal. Whatever this vile brew was, it had a bit of fizz, absolutely no hops, and a slick aftertaste not unlike Mountain Dew. I'm led to understand that this joke is the top-selling beer in the United States and beyond. The tears I subsequently shed were equally for Corey Webster's interception and the market dominance of such a sham.

Needless to say, if the above slander makes me a beer snob, so be it, Jedi. I make very little excuses for my extreme tastes - I like my music loud, my literature complex, my food fancy, my wine refined and my beer strong (about automobiles, however, I'm known to take a less refined approach). And a quick glance at the many activities sponsored by my fellow San Diegan beer enthusiasts suggests I'm not alone. Just as film aficionados shun the multiplex and flock to the art house, as music lovers turn their backs on Best Buy and check out the local record store, and as gourmands drive past the Mickey D's and dig into some local organic fare, the enthusiasm displayed for craft beer and intelligent brew culture suggests a larger audience unwilling to accept the watered-down inoffensive nonsense in cans that has been pushed upon us by the powers-that-be. Drink whatever you want, certainly - and if that means Coors Light, well, more power to you. But until you've sampled some of the finely crafted offerings out there and determined that, no, it's really not for me, I can only suggest that you have no idea what you're missing.

In an earlier post, I made reference to the overwhelming response to Extraordinary Dessert's special beer dessert menu. I was able to take part in two other San Diego Beer Week activities, the first an inspired beer and pizza pairing at Newport Pizza and Ale House just a few blocks down the street from our home in Ocean Beach. Newport is locally renowned for having a truly awesome selection of excellent beers on tap ("No Crap on Tap" is their deadly accurate motto) and in the bottle, and on Wednesday night they offered seven courses of specially-made pizzas with paired craft beer, all for the agreeable price of $20. I adored their first offering, a "garden pizza" consisting of basic cheese and Canadian bacon topped with gently wilted spinach, fresh diced tomatoes, and onions. The "Mexican pizza' came courtesy of the good folks at El Rodeo Taco Shop, just down the block below the tattoo parlor - the green peppers gave just the right amount of heat. I even dug the "Thanksgiving Pizza," which arrived boasting a gob of cranberry and roasted turkey. The revolving selections of Double IPAs, Stouts and Bitters were even tastier.

This afternoon, I ventured into North Park for a visit to one of my favorite San Diego restaurants, the farm-to-table mainstay The Linkery. Starting at noon, the restaurant highlighted the excellent offerings of Bluelake, California's Mad River Brewery, with a specially-designed six course menu of Mad River beer paired with appetizer-sized Linkery specials. I didn't have quite the stamina to try all six (sorry Pumpkin Panacotta paired with Pumpkin Ale - I'm sure you were memorable), but I did make a valiant assault.

-Double IPA paired with rosemary-skewered grilled shrimp (a perfect high-alcohol thirst-quencher)

-Double Brown paired with pork mole taquitos (a lovely slow-burn mole that meshed nicely with the nutty brown ale)

-Scottish Export paired with the scotch egg and grapefruit marmalade (the gentlest, flakiest scotch egg I've ever tasted, not that I've tasted many)

-Chili Beer paired with BBQ Pastured Lamb Sliders (don't mean to get too orgasmic here, but the combo of spicy-hot mini lamb burgers with the honest-to-god hot chili pepper aroma of the Chili Beer was food porn of the highest order. I swear you could smell the habanero skins when you sniffed the brew)

-Bourbon Stout paired with the Sweet Potato Pecan Fritters and horseradish aioli (the sharp sting of the horseradish was a wonderful match with the honeycomb goodness lurking beneath the bourbon stout)

One of my friendly waiters told me that Beer Week has proved a madhouse for the place, and that I had been wise to come down for lunch rather than waiting for dinner, reckoning that come 6 PM, they'd be wiped clean of their Mad River pairings. I ended up taking a long walk around North Park, relieving Off the Record of a few of its Feelies and Vaselines albums, and slowly sipping a cup of strong coffee to allow my Linkery buzz to drift into oblivion before heading back to the beach. Thanks for an inspiring week dedicated to craft, skill and responsible inebriation, San Diego - at times like this, I suspect that our city is one of the few in America that is truly made of of individual neighborhoods, linked by geography, each unique enough to keep one interested, all open to the curious and adventurous few that venture beyond the tourist-mandated watering holes and parking lots. Cheers.