The Beer Chronicles, Days 5 & 6 - Ventura County Chillin'

Life's Not Just About Beer.  No... Really!

Driving Ventura's Main Street, We Saw This

After our whirlwind tour of the last four days, the next two were positively serene by comparison, our driving limited to the fertile coastal narrows which housed the collective communities of Ventura, Oxnard, and Camarillo.  And while most of the trip up to this point was focused on seeking out brewpubs, these days our attentions would be moved in different directions.  It had been an unwritten rule up to this point that we would go to at least two different craft breweries a day, getting flights at each so as to sample at least a dozen different beers per 24 hour period.  Keeping that pace would mean trying well over 100 different brews for the whole journey, an adequate amount for a self-described beer blog.

Inside Micheal Kelley Day Spa

But today we had other priorities, not least of which was having a late lunch with my aunt at the awesome Lure Fish House in Camarillo. Prior to that, we indulged ourselves with a mini spa day at the Michael Kelly Day Spa, right in the heart of a more eclectic neighborhood of Ventura, far from the trendy hipster vibe of downtown Main Street.  In this area of town, second hand stores, hair & nail salons, and taquerias predominate, a clearly more working class area of what is otherwise a rather affluent beach community.

Whereas Oxnard is the working class city of the coastal plain, Ventura is cultural hub and Camarillo the rich & trendy outlier.

Me & sis at Lure in Camarillo

After my massage & haircut (the latter in deference to my aunt, who just loves it when I've gotten "cleaned up" for our visits) and my sister's pedicure (her first ever!), we went back to the house briefly to change clothes, freshen up and then make the 30 minute or so drive out to Camarillo for lunch.  The back roads from the Saticoy region of Ventura that led us to Camarillo are a delight, allowing us to avoid the hustle of CA126 and US101 and enjoy the backbone of Ventura County; that is, the roads led us by groves of oranges & lemons, avocados & grapefruit, as well as fields of berries, especially Strawberries for which the area is justifiably famous.  With a 365 day a year growing season, strawberry stands pop up everywhere, selling the succulent little morsels on nearly every country highway corner.  And if you've never had an actual fresh strawberry- not one that was picked green and allowed to ripen en route to other regions- you've never tried one of the greatest foods on Earth.

Finally... Beer!

After a long and fabulous lunch of catching up, filling each other in on family happenings, and pointedly avoiding political discussions, it was time to bid my aunt adieu and start the beer tasting in earnest.  A local favorite of Camarillo, Institution Ale Company was a short 1.5 miles from Lure so we made our way over there for our first flight of the day.... and it was nearly 5:00 pm!  A late start for us, to be sure.

A caveat about Institution:  by the time you read this blog entry, they may well have moved into their newer, larger tasting room.  As for this visit- my fourth time coming to this place in less than a year- they were still in their claustrophobically small room in a small industrial area, with seating for less than 30 in a space that didn't even include an outdoor patio.  But the quality of their beer more than makes up for the less than hospitable venue.  And let me start by staying:  this place is a hopheads wet dream.  From their magnificent session IPA Solitary to their monumental Double IPA Unit 28, they have a full range of IPAs and hoppy Pale Ales to satisfy even the most discriminating bitter lover.

• Piney and resiny?  Yep, they've got that. (Institution IPA) 
  
• Citrusy & melony?  Check! (White Walls IPA)  
• Tropical & floral.  Oh yeah! (Solitary, again)  
• All of the Above?  Try their Progress Series Pale Ales, which singularly feature a new hop with every batch!

Sadly, they didn't have my favorite on tap this time around, a nitro golden stout full of coffee, vanilla and cocoa nibs.  Aptly named Dissonance, this brew ticks off all the boxes for the stout lover in me: rich, creamy, with a chocolately and nutty taste and lovely coffee finish.

MadeWest Tasting Room

With Camarillo in our rear view mirror, the late afternoon lethargy was setting in; after all, we'd been all go-go-go these last few days and, after a big and delicious lunch and even bigger and tastier beers, we were running low on energy today.  Still, we had to meet our quota so we descended on the newest craft brewery in the area, the aptly named MadeWest Brewery.  Just like Institution, this brewery made its home in one of the areas many industrial parks, stretches of lower rent office spaces situated near agricultural fields and usually away from the main hubbub of the trendier spots in town such as the harbor, downtown, and the pier.  Unlike Institution, however, this place was HUGE, with a vast outdoor patio area and an even bigger tasting room right next to the fermentation vessels.

We tucked into our flight with abandon, sampling the five beers that were currently on tap.  The good news?  All of the beers were tasty.  The Prospect Porter was smooth and characteristic of type, finishing with just a hint of vanilla and coffee.  The Red Rye IPA was smokey and complex in its maltiness, the bitterness lingering longer than expected.  Their standard IPA was citrusy, owing to the heavy use of Citra hops, and finished with a hint of tangerine.  Their Pale was a slightly subtler take on the citrus quality of the IPA.  Finally, their Pilsner almost succeeded in emulating its great German counterparts, with banana and clove slightly noticeable on the nose.  And now for the bad news; while everything was decent and massively better than anything made by Budweiser, Coors, or Miller, none of these beers were real standouts in their area.  Good, yes.  Memorable?  Not so much. Now, they have only been open a few months so I have every reason to believe that MadeWest will start competing with the best of the area but right now, Institution and at least two other local breweries are better, even as they make do with lesser space.

Only One on Wednesday

Geocache find in the foothills

On Wednesday, May18th, when we finally got rolling, we opted for breakfast at a Ventura institution, Pete's Breakfast House, which was featured on some Food Network show hosted by a bleached blonde, spiky haired weirdo.  Despite that claim to fame, Pete's does do a rollicking good breakfast and, if you arrive there at "between" hours like we did, you can actually get a table right away.

Walking to Topa Topa on Thompson Blvd

After a hearty repast and some much needing walking to find some geocaches, we were hitting on the noon hour, just in time to go to my favorite Ventura brewpub, Topa Topa.  Situated right next US101 in downtown on the "wrong side" of Thompson Blvd, this place is a diamond in the rough part of town, a tiny brewery with big ambition and even bigger taste.  I first discovered this place about two weeks after they opened and they were nailing it big time even then, grabbing me with their fabulously citrusy session IPA, the Weekender.

But since that time not long ago, they have imagined themselves well beyond the awesomeness of their IPAs and ventured into arenas hitherto unknown in Ventura county.  This is best exemplified i their startling Black Wing, a bourbon barrel aged Russian Imperial Stout that screams out bourbon, vanilla and caramel.  This is a beer for the ages... just not too much of it at 12% ABV.   Perhaps even better is their amazingly good Tux Milk Stout on Nitro, a variety of beer that seldom ends up on my "to get" list but definitely does here.  With the prominence of vanilla throughout the tasting experience, this one finishes with rich chocolate nuttiness and at 5.5% ABV, it's a lot easier going down than the more extreme Black Wing.

But really, these are only a few of a consistently good and innovative menu of brews, all done right there on site in a place that is home to surfers and business professionals alike.  Of course, in Ventura, it's sometimes hard to tell the difference between the two.

Everyone wears flip flops at Topa Topa!

Day Six Post Mortem:  I regret to say that we never made it over to the excellent Poseidon Brewing Company on this trip nor did we make it out to Casa Agria Specialty Ales in Oxnard, the other new brewery in the area that I haven't tried and which wasn't open on the days we were there.  I hope I can include those in my summer travels and write about them later.  For now, you'll have to settle for the three mentioned here.  And let me tell you, that's not really settling.

Next Up, Day 7, when we sample the beer and wine of Santa Barbara County and experience the madness of San Luis Obispo beers, kombucha, and of course, their famous Thursday Farmer's Market! Stay tuned....

The Beer Chronicles, Day 4 - Hugging the Coast

East Ventura to Venice via Malibu

The Mundane & Authenticity

Ventura Buddhist Center

Truth be told, we didn't actually stay in Los Angeles.  In fact, my awesome aunt owns a rental house up on the east side of Ventura- a lovely semi-rural area nestled between orange & avocado groves and the Ventura Buddhist center.  Since the house was between renters in May, she happily let us stay there for our time in the area and, on a good traffic day, it's just over an hour from her place to West LA.  One small problem: her washing machine was on the fritz so Monday morning started off with the rather mundane task of marching bags of laundry to the nearby Saticoy Coin Op before we could get on with the day. No matter: at least it gave me a brisk and heavy mile walk before driving again!

Sabor Decor

Next decision?  Which route to take. It seemed obvious to me that a Monday morning drive along the Pacific Coast Highway would be ideal: not only would the usual weekend automotive masses be mercifully light, but the sights would be spectacular.  A narrow ribbon of tarmac precarious teetering between the parched Santa Monica Mountains and the mighty Pacific Ocean, this drive is one of the greats... when it's not inundated by thousands of land whales from the inland deserts, trying and failing to find beach camp parking on a busy weekend. So by the time we finished with our morning mundanity, it was creeping up on an early lunch so we figured: what better place to spend lunch that at a VERY authentic taqueria in Oxnard? Sabor was right off the downtown Oxnard Plaza and it featured a fabulous chips & salsa bar, succulent carnitas tacos as well as my favorite, fresh fish tacos.  This place is a DIVE in the best possible way: local only traffic, cheap prices, and quick service in a friendly but unassuming atmosphere.  They even had beer although 10:45 am was a little too early for suds even for me.  Finally, there was plenty of parking, nothing to sneeze at in a beach town!

Coastal Cruise

Thornhill Sanddune Near Malibu

We hit the best part of our drive around noon, making the broad turn at Point Hueneme, moving straight towards the ocean and then along the coast.  I try and make this drive at least once a year and now that I have a car that actually likes hugging the curves, the cruise was driving pleasure incarnate. From remarkable vistas of the Channel Islands- hovering like dark opaque clouds on the horizon- to the staggering geology of  wind & water swept chaparral of the mountains, this little slice of driving heaven is also prone to avalanche, fire, earthquake, and mudslides.  Hey, who said paradise comes without a price?  We cruised through the 27 miles of razor thin Malibu in record time, gawking at homes of the rich and famous, marveling at the beauty of the Pepperdine University campus standing like an academic sentinel over the celebrities below, and regretting that we didn't have time to stop at a BRAND NEW brewpub that didn't even come up my searches before leaving on this trip. Don't worry: I'll be back, little taproom!

The End of I-10

Main Streets finest brews

My sis was more than eager to share some very amusing (and not for this page) stories of some adventures she had in the Santa Monica area so it seems fitting that as we broke out of the Malibu area and gazed upon the familiar site of the Santa Monica Pier, we were both ready for some libations.  Santa Monica- the terminus for the nearly 2500 mile long Interstate 10- is surprisingly not known for their brewpubs but they do have a quite notable AleHouse, the Library AleHouse, right in the heart of their trendy shopping district along Main Street, just south of the the famous 3rd Street walking mall and Venice Beach, our ultimate destination.  In fact, we secured excellent and cheap parking only about a mile walk to Venice so we could enjoy a few without having to worry about driving again for many hours.  

Big menu of brews - Library AleHouse

At this time in the afternoon on a Monday, Library was quiet and serene, their back patio empty and their bar with just a few regular patrons... and us.  Last time I came to this place, on a Saturday, it was a challenge even getting a table, with customers out the door waiting to tuck into their widely varied and interesting bunch offerings. Personally, their food was (and is) secondary to their remarkable beer selection.  While they don't brew any of their own libations, they have a huge menu of craft brews (and ciders!) from all over the country, heavy emphasis on west coast offerings. 

And it was here, at this place, on this day, that I had a startling revelation: I love, l-o-v-e, LOVE, Berlinerweisse!  And sours!  And wild ales!  And.... 

Berlinerweisse

The legend says that the original brewers of Berlinerweisse in Germany produced the slightly sour taste they are famous for by burying the beer in warm earth during the summer months, akin to the traditional Korean method of making Kimchi by burying the cabbage and spices so as to produce a control fermentation and rot.  Well, whatever the case may be, most modern sours are produced not by entombing but rather by doing a secondary fermentation with Lactobacillus, a bacteria that vigorously increases the fermentation and contributes to the sour characteristics. Frankly, the beer geek in me is fascinated by this process so much that I have a substantial obsession these days with all things fermented, from beers to kombucha to kraut & kimchi to pickles & yogurt.  So when I ordered our flights, there was a heavy emphasis on the sours, with a few fruit beers thrown in for good measure.

Weihenstephaner Vitus

As usual, my sis was a game student and happily went along with my obsession, starting with a (sadly) ordinary sour from New Belgium, a brewery that continues to underwhelm.  That was followed by a fabulous wild ale called Tangerine De Brettaville from Almanac Brewing Company in San Francisco.  A farmhouse wild ale, aged in oak barrels and fermented with tangerines and oranges and a formidable quantity of Citra dry hopping, this bone dry sour was fabulously refreshing and a real eye opening, enjoyed by both of us.  We then took a step back in time to the 11th Century AD, when the venerable Weihenstephaner Brewery first opened its doors in the Abbey that bears its name. The medieval beer, Weihenstephaner Vitus (7.7% ABV) is a slightly sour bock, leaning heavily on its pronounced banana and clove nose & finish with a boldly biscuity body in between.  

Apricot Wheat

A palate cleanser to be sure, the Stiegl Grapefruit Radler (the Germanic equivalent of an English shandy) came it at a measly 2.5% ABV and tasted of an adult and slightly less carbonated Fresca soda.  Saisons are also a mild obsession right now as well, which is remarkable since the first one I had I hated (where did that one come from?  Yep, you guessed it. New Belgium).  In this case, the Saison Brett comes from Allagash Brewing Company in Portland, Maine, and definitely leans on the sour end of the varietal, with heavy oak aging contributing to its almost Chardonnay-like finish.  Absolutely fabulous! Finally, the favorite of the day- probably owing to how hot the weather was becoming- was an awesome Apricot Wheat coming out of Lost Coast Brewing Company in Eureka, CA. Fruity but bone dry, this sessionable brew was refreshing to the last and belongs on any summer table.  It reminds me of another favorite from the very same brewery, the Tangerine Wheat, something I was actually able to find even in New Mexico.

Walking in Venice

M.I.A. Memorial

And now the walking began in earnest as we began the hot and sunny walk towards Venice and onto Muscle Beach. We were not set to meet our nearby friend Jefu for another hour or so, affording us time to explore the shops, murals, and monuments that Venice is famous for.  The most sober amongst these is the MiA mural, dedicated to our missing GIs, still not accounted for in Southeast Asia.  It was a brief and mercifully shady stroll up one of Venice's vaunted "walking streets" that we discovered this reminder of our past ingloriousness and an admonition that we should think twice before we place our young men & women in harm's way.

A new and predictable trend along the Venice boardwalk is the purveyors of medical cannabis prescriptions, which can be secured for a mere $40, allowing you to purchase legal weed at the many dispensaries that dot Los Angeles County.  But it all fits in rather neatly in Venice, a little slice of urban bliss where hippies, thugs, hipsters, muscle heads, tourists, and even police all coexist in peaceful habitation. And while the temptation to secure some legal herb did have its virtues, this trip is about beer, writing, and moderation so I abjured that vice for a later date.

When the time was at hand, we made our way to the Venice AleHouse, a hopping and happening "gastropub" right on the Venice boardwalk.  Jefu- a friend and partner to another friend for going on 20 years now- was already seated at one of the tables on the small but lively outdoor patio, the even smaller inside area already jammed up with the happy flip flop crowd, ready to dive into pints, mixed drinks, wine, and a varied menu of interesting options. Venice AleHouse is a typically eclectic mix of farm-to-table organic fare and on this day, only one in-house beer, an amazingly hoppy "pale ale" that would be called an IPA in most sane parts of the world (and in fact is labelled as such on Untappd).  But throw sanity out the door in Venice, that's what I say!

In fact, the ale house version of a "flight" of beers is a BOAT of beers, with larger pours and even higher prices to match.  Overall, it was a predictable menu with even more predictable beers but there was a standout and that was the fabulous Solitary IPA from Institution Ale Company in Camarillo, CA, a place we would visit in person the next day.  At a sessionable 4.5% ABV, this tropical-fused IPA is juicy with citra hops, giving it a mango and bright citrus nose, right through to the fabulously refreshing finish.  It was a great way to end our visit and an even greater precursor for what we would try in the coming days.  

Venice AleHouse Beer Boat

Next up: sampling the formidable spoliated barley beverage fare in Ventura County.  Don't miss it!  

The Beer Chronicles, Day 3 - Driving Into Our Past

Our Route

Strange Routes

Sunday, May15, and the winds from yesterday have barely abated.  We arrived in the Palm Desert area in a virtual brown out, a familiar sight to desert dwellers in the N32-35 latitudes.  There's a reason the massive wind farm, an iconic fixture of the Coachella Valley along the I-10 corridor, has been crashing away since the 1980s, providing much needed power for the region and gracelessly annoying many passersby on CA111 out of Palm Springs, who complain about the massive noise they create when it's breezy... which is most of the time.  

As Saturday evening wore on and we crawled our way back to the hotel, there was no sign of the wind stopping like it does in our desert when the sun goes down.  On the contrary: the dust and wind magnified considerably and continued on well into the morning.  We resolved then, to get out of the San Gorgonio Pass ASAP, taking the back way into Big Bear rather than the shorter but likely longer and windier routes to the south.  

Sonny's Dedication Fountain

Strangely, at a pit stop in Palm Springs- nestled quietly away from the bustle of the interstate at the foothills of the 11,500'+ Mount San Gorgonio itself- the wind was nothing more than a gentle, pleasant breeze, cooling the morning desert air and allowing for a brief but pleasant walking tour of downtown.  We secured coffee and a quick stop to "visit" Sonny Bono, arguably Palm Spring's most famous resident before his skiing fiasco, where we posed selfie style with his memorial (and to satisfy a geocache requirement).

Now you may be asking: why on earth would they drive through Yucca Valley and then Big Bear to get to Los Angeles?  Well, my pretties.  That's an interesting story.  Prior to moving to New Mexico at the ripe young age of 12, I lived for four years up in Running Springs, a very small mountain town just 10 miles west of Big Bear Lake in the San Bernardino Mountains, right along the lovely Rim of the World Scenic Byway.  Cheryl too, who predates me on this planet by 11 years or so, also spent some time there in her 20s.  Of course, back in the 1970s when we lived there, the scenic views were frequently hampered by a dense layer of smog that covered the Inland Empire, a monument to dirty industry and a excessive amount of even dirtier cars.  Nearly 40 years later, the smog problem is substantially curtailed thanks to some draconian but effective emissions measures California passed as well as "dirty" industries largely packing up and moving to other countries.  

So to make a long answer even longer, we drove the Big Bear Lake area and subsequently Running Springs for the sake of nostalgia, for touching on a more innocent time of youth and play.  Also, there was a brew pub which served food...

Climbing from Sea Level to 4000', quickly!

The Mountains

Neither one of us had ever taking CA62, which wound its way through Joshua Tree forests to reach

the high desert north of Big Bear, and it was exhilaratingly beautiful.  The windy road that followed up to above 7500' was equally spectacular, if a bit harder to spectacle, given the nature of the drive up and the fact that inevitably got caught behind a "land whale" of an RV on the switchbacks.  It was also a bit disheartening when we came upon the first body of water which you approach coming from the north, Baldwin Lake.  The locals told us that it usually dried up in the summer but even so, this early in the season to see a completely dried up mountain lake was sobering indeed.

As we finally arrived in Big Bear Lake itself, we secured time to find an absolutely spectacular geocache at a Big Bear Lake Inn.  It was quite clever, requiring you to pull the right combo of cords to activate the cuckoo clock and thus open the back of the cache where the container and log were.  

From there it was a hop, skip, and to Big Bear Lake Brewing Company, one of two brewpubs in the city and the one recommended to us by others and the all important Tripadvisor and Google Reviews.  

What we found was a homey, friendly full service brewery with a large food menu, just in time to slake our thirst and fill our bellies.  Not surprisingly, the beers here were big on the pine and resin, as if to remind us that we were smack dab in the middle of a forest.  The Double Down IPA was a strong example of this, a sort of Porter/Double IPA hybrid that came in at a whopping 9.2% ABV.  Even more indicative of our surrounding was the Whisper Pine IPA, which gave off an almost palpable aroma of Spruce and Pine resin and followed with a hoppy punch in the teeth.  

We also sampled their Golden Ale, which strangely had a black licorice finish, their high alcohol Red Ale, and a rather ordinary Hefeweizen and Chocolate Porter.  Still in all, it was a heady mix of quality craft brews, eagerly served up by a young, enthusiastic local.  Side note:  What was considerably more surprising than a quality brewpub in a town of just over 5000 people was the fact that my sis had never had Carnitas before!  Luckily, the carnitas tacos fit the bill to educate her about the marinated pork goodness that this iconic Mexican preparation offered.  Needless to say, I now have a convert.  

Our bellies full and beer palates satisfied, we stopped again to grab a highly rated geocache.  I suppose I should mention: premium member geocachers (those that pay the $30 annual fee) can earn and assign favorite points to caches which they like.  Some, like some virtual at major national monuments, can have thousands of favorite points.  Most, more humble and less visited ones like this clever fake wood knot cache, will be lucky to get to 100 favorites.  Still, this stop afforded us the chance to talk to the cache placers themselves, who lived right across the street, and a fellow geocacher, who found it just before us.  And it's no wonder it was so popular on this day:  it was a gorgeous 65 degrees, sunny, light winds, perfect for being out in the woods.  

My old house, circa 1976-1980

I mention this casual detail because the 10 mile drive to Running Springs, which also dropped us about 1500 feet to about 6000', became anything but.  Low hanging fogs rested between the 4000' and 6000' elevation mark in the mountains, hovering there with cold and frightening intensity.  What was a beautiful 65 degree spring day in Big Bear became a zero visibility 38 degree day by the time we got to Running Springs, freezing fog stinging our cheeks as we got out to find another geocache.  My old home was spared the worst of the fog as Palo Alto Way sat slightly above the brunt of the storm... But Running Springs main street was socked in completely and we were barely able to see 50' in front of us.  

The drive down the mountain reminded me of the terror we all felt at times during a San Bernardino Mountain winter, when thick blankets of fog, layers of black ice, and massive 6-10' drifts of snow made the drive up and down to San Bernardino and Riverside beyond a hazardous, life threatening terror ride.  It was no wonder my mom and dad were all too happy to move to the less wintery southern New Mexico.

Los Angeles

LA's iconic city hall

Full disclosure: I learned how to drive in New Mexico, which is not a great place to learn how to get behind a wheel. Las Crucens have a justifiable reputation for being some of the worst drivers in the US: slow and clueless, fast and clueless, or with just a complete disregard for their fellow drivers.  So I would say that I actually LEARNED to drive in Los Angeles, where the unstated motto is drive well or die; we don't give a crap which one.  I prefer this method of driving, where aggressive competence rules the day, where the rule of the road is stay in formation, go with the flow of traffic and for God's sake, don't go slow in the fast lanes.  

Well, that's true when traffic is moving at all. 
Yes, the notorious Los Angeles traffic jams are a very real thing, something I have experienced in their full frustration way too many times.  On this day, though, the drive into downtown was a cake walk, with only a small delay when we hit the spaghetti bowl of intertwined tarmac where the 110, the 101, the 10 and the 5 all come together in spectacular cluster of freeway madness.  It was no wonder my sister declared that she would be happy to drive anytime on this trip... except in LA.  Point of fact: I did all of the driving, which is just as well.  In Guinevere, our 2015 Toyota Avalon hybrid, there's this little thing called "sports mode", which is ideal for Angelino-style driving.  


Angel City

It should be said that normally, I avoid driving into downtown LA, mostly because I'm usually heading up to Ventura or points north to visit family and/or friends and the route through Pasadena and Burbank is usually faster.  

Well, today was different because we were meeting an old colleague who lived in Torrance for the Angel City Brewery Heritage Music Festival; right at the cusp of Asian, Hispanic, and European cultures, the brewery is at the center of an Arts Distract revitalization, one which I can attest to after visiting their area some 25 years ago and not wishing to return to that torrid wasteland again.  

I should add that my sister spent many of her formative years here, as her dad lived very close to the heart of the city.  So this was a homecoming for us both.  I was born in Hollywood just north of here and she spent a good portion of her teen years in the belly of the beast itself.  And thus we drove deep into our past, only to find that LA has done far more to embrace a vibrant future while still recognizing its cultural connections.  I have spent many years poo pooing the vast sprawl that is the City of Angels, with its myriad of cultural, economic, and crowding problems.  But today, there is a sense of optimism, especially when you spend times in neighborhoods like the ones we did.

Inside Angel City

Now the wasteland is no more, the region punctuated by at least five breweries, a Japanese-style mall, more sushi places than I could count, trendy bistros, and a vibrant sense of a neighborhood on the rise. For me, the core of this is Angel City, a massive city block warehouse cum brewery some 4 stories high, once a place of industrial commerce and now a huge tasting room and brewery; the place also sports a large outdoor area, where additional taps were laid out to accommodate the massive crowds the festival attracted.  Food trucks were aplenty as were drummers, artists, and vendors of all sorts, creating an atmosphere of exuberant but convivial hedonism.  The inside features the largest tasting room I would encounter on this trip, complete with darts, boardgames, and some sort of beanbag toss game that seems quite popular in California.   A metal loft rises up above the main cement floor and it was here that we ran into some truly spectacular brews; the weird and wonderful world of barrel aged, small batch gems were featured here, mostly just in tasting cups as the vast majority of this magnificent space is reserved for fermentation vats and bottling areas for more common fare.

And each one was better than the next. First up was a magnificent beer called the Funky Wit, a Belgian Wit Soured and Barrel Aged to bring out the lemony citrus character of the wit. Then there was the Dark Rye Lager, Bourbon Barrel Aged that accentuates the lagering with an almost molasses finish.  Similarly, the Mouthful Molasses Dopplebock exudes coffee bitterness and burnt sugar sweetness. The Imperial IPA is a hophead wet dream, with tropical passionfruit permeating the palate, nicely balancing the hop bitterness.  Finally, my favorite was the Jameson Barrel Aged Irish Red, a phenomenal 15% ABV powerhouse that tastes of Islay smoked whiskey and Irish Red sweetness.  What a beer!

Keep in mind that should ever decide to make the journey into downtown LA, there's a very good chance that you'll never find these brews. But I'm sure the eclectic geniuses that run the place, like the very city itself, will surprise and delight you with even more delectable and usurious pleasures for your palate.  Just be sure to bring your credit card.  

Wurstküche Pub

Post Mortem:  I wasn't sure if I would include this tidbit- as it doesn't really fit with the local craft beer theme of this blog- but I should admit that my sis, friend and me decided not to indulge in the food truck city of the festival, instead walking two blocks away to the remarkable Wurstküche, a place that has made German food trendy again.  With a huge array of reasonable and house made sausages available at walk up window, the place is a also a trendy pub, with some 30 taps of German and Belgian ales straight from the motherlands.  First you stand in line for your sausages (yes, there's even a vegetarian one for you veg heads out there!), then you sit down at in the pub, where you will happily fork out between $8-10 dollars for a tasty treat from the Old World.

Our plan was simple: Cheryl and Kristi would stand in line and order the sausages while I secured us seating at the bar, ordering libations in the process.  I suffered through a lovely Belgian saison called Brasserie St-Feuillien while I ordered (and sampled) Früli Strawberry beers for my companions. Those Belgians do know their stuff, although the Früli was a little sweet for my palate.  The Brasserie, on the other hand, was a very traditional Farmhouse, giving off an almost meaty quality that paired well with the tubes of pork we were ingesting.

Next up:  Monday, May 16, where we venture down to the beach and enjoy carnitas in Oxnard, curvy driving wonders of Highway One, the trendy hipness of Santa Monica and the funkiness of Venice Beach.  

The Beer Chronicles, Day 2 - Treasure Hunting in the Desert

Morning in the Foothills

We were lucky enough to secure lodging with a friend who lives deep in the Tanque Verde area of Tucson, a lovely foothills paradise of lush Sonoran splendor.  Unlike our home turf of Las Cruces- which resides is the parched Chihuahuan Desert- the Sonoran Desert foothills of Tucson is resplendent with lush desert growth: Palo Verde trees blossom, grasses from spring rains green up, and Saguaros flowers bud like beautiful tumors, all coming to life like clockwork in late spring.  Our host took my sis and me for a three mile loop walk/hike through a neighborhood desert preserve to witness this beauty, helping to cast aside the cobwebs from too little sleep and a wee bit too much beer.

When 8:00 am rolled around, we set out for our 300 mile journey for the day, stopping just long enough to fortify ourselves with coffee from a well-known national chain that rhymes with Barclucks.  A bit of bitter brew later, we were on the road, traversing the light Saturday morning traffic to reach I-10 in record time.  A word of caution about Tucson:  the city planners apparently made a conscious decision to NOT build a loop road for the northeast part of the city.  The net effect of this lack of limited access roads is 8-10 miles of city street driving from the foothills to westbound I-10, which on a quiet Saturday morning was an easy stroll.  During rush hour?  Expect a LONG slog to reach your destination.

Another Hobby on Display

A good friend of mine has accused me of "gamifying" everything in my life, including beer drinking. That might be a bit too close to accurate.  After all, Untappd- with it's myriad of virtual badges you can earn for different "beer accomplishments"- feels very much like another favorite activity of mine, Geocaching, which was on full display this day.  My usual way of traveling, at least when time allows, is to stop frequently, both to stretch my legs and to follow the mantra of many a journeyman: The point of the journey is not to arrive.  It is the journey itself.  Prudence tells us that this isn't always possible, especially in our rush-rush-rush, ticky-tack-little-houses society, but when possible, it makes for a much more sublime, cathartic journey.  This road trip was just such a journey and thus we resolved to stop frequently, treasure hunting along the way.  The first first such stop was at a odd desert park, about 10 miles west of the I-10/I-8 interchange, roughly 45 miles east of Gila Bend. State Highway 84 intersects with I-8 at this point, running a ENE route towards State Route 347 and then due north to the little down of Maricopa after which the mighty Phoenix county is named.

The park, named Pinal County West, is a strangely quiet and rustic little roadside desert oasis of Palo Verde and Saguaro, intermittently punctuated with little shabby shade covers and BBQ grills. And there was also a Geocache, which we took a short .5 mile stroll to find.  Mind you, by this time, around 10:00 am, the temperature was already pushing 90; such is the way in Arizona's beautiful but brutal desert.  I was glad I opted for iced coffee.

Yuma Renaissance

Back in the 1980s, as an undergraduate in college, I used to drive I-8 all the time, visiting friends

attending UC-San Diego.  At that time, Yuma was nothing but a hot, agricultural blip in the road, known mostly for cheap gas at the AM-PM off of the US95 exit which leads down to the Mexican border town of San Luis Rio Colorado in the state of Sonora.  Well, the AM-PM is still there but Yuma has grown into rather substantial hub of SW Arizona, complete with a college, an airport, over 50,000 residents and a winery.  Yes, I said winery.  My first thought upon seeing this was, "How on Earth?  It gets to 110 regularly in the summer here.  How can they possibly grow grapes that don't just make the wine taste of sweet, sugary pap?"

On this trip, I wasn't about to find out because right across from this tasting room was the object of our desire, a brewpub oasis in the Yuma Proving Grounds heat called Prison Hill Brewery, named for the nearby territorial prison made famous in Elmore Leonard's 3:10 to Yuma.  Bonus: this brewery served food, just in time for our lunchtime repast.  While their beers were quite respectable, including a rather nice, smokey session ESB called ES Bueno ESB and a lovely summer Porter called Sally Porter, the standout here was a guest tap from our friends at Victory Brewing back in Pennsylvania.  An amazing Kirsch Gose, this cider-like brew was tart, slightly sweet, and packed a huge sour cherry punch.  Absolutely refreshing!  The food was quite nice but pretty typical pub fare, with standout meatball kabobs and some nice house dressings for their salads.

California Here We Come

I have this disagreement with friends and family all the time:  my eldest sister and brother-in-law insist that the best way to drive to California from New Mexico is through Phoenix which, in ideal traffic situations, is a bit faster than my chosen route.  HOWEVER, I-8 is a trafficless joy of tarmac, a 350 mile joyride for the speed freak who loves to avoid the cavalcade of semis, RVs, and sun-baked yahoos blanketing Phoenix like a bunch of drunk, disoriented ants, forever caught in someone's magnifying glass.

So I nearly always go through Yuma and up CA86, a fast and furious state highway that skirts the western shore of the Salton Sea on it's way to joining up with I-10 in the heart of the Coachella Valley.  Usually this road is limit access and even when it isn't, traffic is light (caveat: if it's during the Coachella Music Festival in April, ignore this advice).

And thus we come to the next part of our story, which is a brief and hot mini hike to another geocache, this time on the shores of the saline sea herself, somewhere within the confines of the optimistically named Salton City, a 1950's preplanned community that had its own idea about whether it wanted to have residents or not. In this place, you can almost feel the sense of hope that developers had, thinking they happened upon the next Palm Springs.  What they didn't account for was the smell: Salton Sea exudes an almost living, palpable stench, the product of Hydrogen Sulfide given off by the waters themselves.  This, along with increasing salinity, decreasing water levels, and pollution from nearby agriculture, curtailed that development.  Now the little berg is nothing more than an unincorporated Imperial county community of about 3500, a mixture of resilient retirees in their Saltillo-tiled homes and ancient single-wide mobile homes, the latter of which are largely occupied by Mexican agricultural workers and service industry 20somethings who cater to the rich and old of Palm Springs.


Coachella Brews

A quick and satisfying check in at the Palm Desert Homewood Suites - a fabulous deal off season by the way- we sought sustenance at nearby awesome Thousand Palms taqueria en route to our true destination and the reason we decided to stay the night out here in the Valley: Coachella Valley Brewing Company, a place that takes beer making to a new level of bonkers.  While their industrial park taproom has only been around for a couple of years now, master brewer Devon Sanchez and company are doing remarkable things, incorporating local ingredients into many of their brews.  For example, they brag about their use of Africanized Killer Bee Honey in their brews, which stands out particularly well in their amazing Desert Swarm, a Double Belgian Wit (not usually one of my favorites) that lingers with hot honey at the back of the palate but with none of the sweetness.  The addition of locally grown kumquats gives it a citrus taste that is out of this world.

The menu was a nearly limitless array of varieties to satisfy every palate, from a slightly sour Berlinerweisse to the gargantuan Grand Conquistador, a Belgian Quad infused with locally grown dates that tops out at a whopping 20% ABV.... and that's without any fortification!  How they managed this magical feat is beyond me but Devon and his fellow beer wizards are truly remarkable. I can't wait to revisit this place come August!






Next time, Day Three of the May beer journey, where we drive the Rim of the World, sample 7500 feet brews, descend into the heart of darkness itself, and get overwhelmed at a cavernous brewery music festival.  Los Angeles, here we come!

First of two flights