The Hoppy Nomad

An Urban Quest for Ales & Tales

Tag Archives: beer

I Have to Write a What??

For the past three months I’ve had so many ideas in my head about what to post next, my brain was converted to scrambled eggs.  Luckily I jot down my blog ideas in my trusty notebook that I got for free at a lame conference.  I’m just now starting to gather my thoughts, and organize them like a crazed worker bee so that I may share with you, my dear readers.

Recently I decided to take an online course at Syracuse University (free for me!), and I’m currently in the middle of “Advanced Poetry Workshop.”  Besides story telling, I love poetry.  For the most part my poetry is free verse and tackles many a subject.  Taking this class has been an eye opener for me — I am forced to know and write sonnets, ballads, odes and the like.  One of my assignments was to write a sestina.  Say what?  I had never heard of such a thing!  When the professor posted the description, my body tensed up in fear.  Sestinas are no joke!  Without getting into the technicality of the structure (just Google or Wikipedia it if it interests you), I was deathly afraid of writing what was to be the hardest thing for me to write — not because I couldn’t come up with words or a subject, but because it had to be formulaic.  This poem is mathematical and my head could not wrap around it. I avoided writing it until the last moment.

I was stuck.  I didn’t want to be a bad student and give up, but I really didn’t know where to start.  Luckily, a friend of mine said to me, “Why don’t you write about beer?  Write something light.” And then it hit me!  With his mad Excel skills that saved me, I followed the formula, and the words just flowed (no pun intended)!  Now that my sestina is finished and has my professor’s stamp of approval, I share with you my very first poem about beer:

“Beer”

After the winter’s freeze, it’s time for spring.
The harvest begins her bounty of hops.
Once fully grown, they will soon become a treasure.
I’m getting impatient; I have a great thirst.
After waiting and waiting, the brew finally flows.
My mouth waters as I pour it to drink.

This liquid gold is not just any drink.
It is so special when it touches my lips, I spring.
Just like a creek that flows,
just like a rabbit that hops,
just like a nomad in the desert with an unquenchable thirst,
wandering aimlessly in search of the treasure.

This aqueous concoction, ‘tis my greatest treasure.
In appreciation to Gambrinus, I drink.
One, two, three, four — my mouth is dry, but it still has a thirst.
Just like the plants and flowers need water to spring,
I am an addict to these narcotic hops.
In my blood and veins, the brew flows.

I am the mortal nymph, whose 28 day cycle flows,
beloved earthly life and the sense of taste is such a treasure.
In the wild outback, I’m a kangaroo that hops.
An innocent animal looking for food and drink.
In the presence of the nectar, I am Tigger and I spring.
Wander, swim, and on the hunt, insatiable is my thirst.

Solitary and convivial, no satisfaction, there’s always thirst
that resides from within, and naturally flows.
In my body, my shell, my summer, my spring.
What fills up my holy Grail is a treasure.
I lift it up as if it were a newborn baby, and I drink.
I am a child in Wonderland who skips and hops.

It is this magnificent humulus we know as hops.
Its magical properties bring many a thirst.
I travel endlessly, tirelessly just for this drink.
My imagined heaven is one with a golden river that flows.
Endlessly, bottomless infinity to always treasure.
From childhood to adulthood, there is that special something that makes us spring.

Ireland’s greatest treasure wells from the spring.
I thirst for a Guinness from the Emerald Isle and begin to drink.
I am the Celtic creature who hops to heaven’s liquid that flows.

Too Long to tweet “Tweet”

While I never intended for this to be a blog post, some of my recent observations of human interaction have had me thinking “WTF?”  140 characters was just not enough to post my viewpoint.  So while this isn’t a typical Hoppy Nomad post, I found it appropriate enough to publish now. 

While at work yesterday, I had didn’t have time to get lunch.  I really wanted to get my favorite iced tea at a popular mom and pop eatery.  The line was long.  I knew I wouldn’t have time for my tea if I were to get in line.  So as I’ve done in the past at airport security lines where I might miss my flight, I kindly asked someone — a female college student who was up next — if I could jump in, that all I was going to order was a drink.  It would have been a 20 second transaction.  I told her I was pressed for time.  Her reaction to me was if I asked her to cut off her arm for me.  In a snotty way, she basically rejected me.  I don’t remember the words, just the attitude.

I’m always looking for crafty solutions or alternatives to get what I want or need, be it a professional or personal pursuit. So I simply went to the dude who made the juices, told him my predicament, he gave me a cup, I paid him even though he wasn’t sure how much the tea cost, and he told me he’d cover the rest if he was wrong.  And just like that, I was in and out of there and thanked him very much.

Situations like these can really piss me off and remind me that not everyone is nice.  Again, such was the case at a local grocery store the day before that.  Similarly, all I needed to do was run in, grab a gift card, go to the “under 15 items or less” line and buy it.  I figured three minutes tops.  Usually if I have one or a few items, most people with a full cart will give me the courtesy to get ahead of them and vice versa.  It’s called humanity and common courtesy.  In front of me were two early twenty-something local yokels buying up a few cases of Bud and Bud Light (I won’t even comment yet on their choice of beer).  Again, here I was with one tiny item and waited like what seemed an eternity to buy it.  Perhaps because I’m a Gen X’er and these kids grew up in a different time, disregarding me was nothing.  Or maybe these ‘Git Er Done’ kids just wanted their cases of Bud and start a-drinkin in the parking lot. Who knows. Who cares.

While I am in no position to judge anyone’s choice of beer, I do admit I am a beer snob and would much rather buy a local craft beer not only because it tastes better, but it supports the local economy.  While I’m not crazy about where I live, I do care about it.  These two greedy events reminded me of why I drink what I drink and why I buy what I buy.  First, I always try to buy local, whether it’s cheese, beer, or iced tea.  Second, I try as much as I can to be informed of what’s behind the scenes of that Coors Light you’re drinking or that American Apparel sexy underwear you’re buying.

I am in no way preaching to anyone.  Buy what you want. Drink what you want. Eat what you want.  While some may crave the thrill to debate back and forth over a drink, usually it turns into a decibel-rising pseudo-melee. I am the last person who wants to talk about what you think about Libya or the Pope. Especially over a beer.  Buzzkill. I lived in D.C.  Been there, done that.  For you younguns who don’t give a shit about anything but yourselves, go ahead and enjoy your experiences.  I was probably like that too.  But if you do care just a little bit about your beer choices, young, old, or in between, support your local economy and try something from your area. Try the smaller guys if even they’re not local too. As I’ve recommended before, watch the documentary “Beer Wars.”  If you have Netflix, it’s on Instant Play.  Make your own conclusions.

One last recommendation: be nice to people and they will be nice to you.  Hey, they might even buy you a beer!

Quite an Honor…

One day a few months ago I was checking out the website of one of my favorite breweries, Great Lakes Brewing Co.(GLBC) from Cleveland, Ohio.  In their “Beer Talk” section I read something that caught my eye.  2010 was the year of the “World’s First Beer Blog Conference,” to be held in Boulder, Colorado in November.  This was a dream for me!  Traveling to Colorado, networking with other bloggers, meeting more people in the beer industry and social media experts was tailor made for The Hoppy Nomad!  However, as I have mentioned in previous blogs, money is tight and unfortunately I was unable to attend.

The folks over at GLBC knew that not all beer bloggers were able to participate at conference, and in “Beer Talk,” they held a contest of sorts.  They wanted to hear from beer bloggers who didn’t go to Boulder. They wanted to give those of us a chance to be  highlighted  on their website.  If selected, this could be a wonderful opportunity to reach out to more people.  If the people at GLBC thought my blog and writing was captivating enough, perhaps they would highlight me!  Lo and behold, highlight me they did (do I sound like Yoda?)!

I am very proud that The Hoppy Nomad was recently selected as “Beer Blogger Feature.”  It is quite an honor indeed, especially from a quality brewery like GLBC.  I look forward to my next trip to Cleveland and I hope you make it out there someday, if only to visit GLBC.  It’s worth the visit.  Not only does Cleveland rock, GLBC totally rocks.

To read their post, please click here. I welcome your comments and would love to hear from you!  Thank you for all your support.

Beer. Donuts. Mmmmm. (Part Two)

I feel like Homer!I  clearly remember the weekend before I was to start my new lifestyle, I gorged on cookies, brownies, donuts, beer and wine as if I were a prisoner on death row.  I was already at my heaviest, so why not go out with a bang?  Bombarded with news about obesity and diabetes with shows like “The Doctors” and “The Dr. Oz Show,” I was well aware that eating sweets was something to have once in awhile, a small treat to savor. However, I didn’t make the connection that beer also contributed to my weight gain.  I thought only men like Homer Simpson and Peter Griffin had beer bellies.  Not me!

After following my doctor’s advice and continuing the “lifestyle,” I lost 15 pounds.  I felt great.  Still, I had this gnawing feeling.  I wanted to continue my passionate beer adventures.  Was I now relegated to the tasteless low-carb, low-calorie varieties?  I’d rather drink room temperature flat Diet Dr. Pepper than to give up what my taste buds craved.  My body struggled with my mind, and so reluctantly I bought a book entitled “Does My Butt Look Big In This Beer? Nutritional Values of 2,000 Worldwide Beers” by Bob Skilnik.  My first thought when the book arrived was “what a buzz kill.”  Sorry Bob. Here in front of me were indisputable figures that could affect how I would choose to drink in the future.  I want to consume that cask, absorb that ale, savor that stout, and imbibe that IPA without having to worry as if I were downing a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one sitting.

I must admit it was an eye opener to read the facts and figures in 12 ounces of my favorites (some are pretty reasonable — click on the links in blue for more detailed info).  I always believe it’s better to be informed, and now I have a clearer picture of what is going into my body and its effects.  It was a relief to later read that the maltose, produced by barley in the beer making process, gets used up during fermentation. So while I don’t worry so much about sugar in beer, I occasionally consider the calories.  Do I drink the 64-calorie beer? Never.  I’d rather eat 64 calories worth of Hershey’s Kisses. Do I bring the book with me to every pub or brew fest? Of course not.  I enjoy conviviality, which is a requirement when tipping back a few with amigos.

Mmmmm. In two days I’m off to another brew fest without a care in the world.  After going to the Abbey, my taste buds are ready for some excellent craft beer. What’s different today from two years ago? Not much. Mexican commercials that advertise food and drink always have at bottom of the screen “nada con exceso, todo con medida” which means “nothing in excess, everything in moderation.” If I have a beer or two, I skip the donut and vice versa.  If I cave in to my cravings and have a delicious donut AND a badass beer, my taste buds will thank me and I start the next day at the gym. Carpe diem!

Beer. Donuts. Mmmmm (Part One)…

Read it to believe itIt’s no secret that I’m a beer enthusiast. I recently felt like a kid in a candy store when I was in South Beach and took some friends to the Abbey Brewing Company. According to its website, it’s Miami Beach’s oldest and only brewpub. Not a typical “South Beach” bar, it’s tucked away on a street most tourists would only stumble upon. I reminisced and salivated as I viewed the selection that I knew so well. Not knowing what to order, my friends asked for some advice. Happy to recommend, I could feel my speech speed up, my eyes getting bigger as I talked about the varieties of beer, and my heart race as if I was in love. I had to stop, slow down, take a breath, and order like a lady.

As much as I love all aspects of beer, I was stopped dead in my tracks two years ago when my physician told me I was at risk of getting diabetes since it runs rampant in my family. I was ordered to get on the South Beach Diet (how appropriate!) and to lose 20 pounds. This was a shock to me, as I have always been bony as a girl, skinny as a teen, and slender as a young adult. This was an alarm I couldn’t ignore, so I read the book (written in 2004) cover to cover and vowed to execute this diet to the tee.

No white rice, pasta or potatoes? Easy. NO BEER?? Come on now! Was the universe punishing me, someone who loves and writes about it? In the book, it stated that beer is a big no-no because it contains maltose, a sugar with a high glycemic index. I knew that I had to give up most carbs and sugar, but beer? That’s like telling Mario Batali to stop eating pasta or Paula Deen to stop eating biscuits with gravy. Blasphemy!

Deep fried chocolatey heavenGiving up sweets was no pleasure cruise either. I adore all kinds of sweets from the Pixie Stix of my childhood to cheesecake. One of my childhood favorites I have never outgrown is the headlight (see above). It’s a regional Upstate New York donut, and a wonder to devour. Perfectly round fried dough of perfection sans hole, covered in chocolate frosting and topped with a dollop of white frosting. I’m practically drooling like a dog eagerly awaiting that biscuit as I write this. While I was never one to ever consider the caloric or sugar contents of anything, I knew I now had to pay very close attention to what I ate and imbibed.

To get to the nitty gritty, you’ll have to wait for Part Two, coming soon!