Beer & Loathing in St. Louis: Part 2

For those just coming into this post for the first time, please read Day 1's exploits HERE.  This write-up came about during a trip for Limited Release for the Barrel Aged Abraxas release at Perennial Brewing.  I might have been reading Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas at the time...

Chapter 4: Urp

The black-out curtains worked well, until that single burning ray of sun reached my eyes, singeing me and raising sparks of flame and pain in my retinas.  Afraid I would spontaneously combust like a Hammer Horror vampire or a drummer for Spinal Tap, I rapidly burrowed deeper into my hotel bed cocoon.  Too much, too soon!  I had peaked my first day in St. Louis, with nothing left for the coming day.  I had not run the marathon...I had run wind sprints!  My late night had ended with a troubled and fitful sleep, filled with strange dreams of riding past an endless Anheuser-Busch complex with Hunter S. Thompson in a convertible.  Behind the wheel was Ron, pedal down, eye red-rimmed and frightening, the size of dinner plates.  I was frantically cautioning them not to stop in Bat Country.  The copious amounts of red meat and alcoholic toxins fueled an epic thrashing night of what Rob calls "The Meat Sweats".  Sitting up slowly now I took stock.  Head, though seemingly swollen and filled with thick cotton batting, was still attached to my neck.  Good.  Eyes--I didn't want to think about them.  Not open them.  Stomach, queasy, but holding in there!  Limbs--floppy and made of rubber.  Weak like those of a newborn kitten.  "No problem," I thought, "I can do this!"  I had lasted as long as my hard-living and hard-drinking colleagues, and there is no way they could be doing better than I!

Staggering about like a lurching zombie from a classic horror flick, I met up with Rob downstairs at the hotel breakfast café.  In a show of possibly poor judgement, my compatriots had apparently gone back down to the casino floor after I had wandered off to bed the previous night.  Food was far from my mind, but the necessity of a strong caffeine bolus to get me started up again prompted me to make this trek.  Once I had some coffee in my veins the shaking subsided.  Watching Rob gustily devour his enormous mound of fried chicken atop a mountain of waffles, my stomach writhed and slithered about in my chest like an enraged eelpout.  It was dicey for a while there.  Our service was very slow, making the clock-less time of the casino drag even more strangely, disorienting and odd.  Ron eventually joined us, showing off his own particular brand of zombie shamble.  In between rolling hops and dips of my suddenly soaring stomach, I managed to stuff in a small amount doughy biscuits and slippery gravy.  Perhaps not the greatest of plans, but my brain didn't seem to be functioning correctly.

Chapter 5: Return to Perennial

Properly fed and caffeinated, our humbled trio drove slowly back to Perennial Brewing to set up our cameras and equipment to record the third day of the Barrel Aged Abraxas release.  This was our mission, our quest, our driving force for traveling to St. Louis!  Having had a taste of the event (and that wonderful beer) from the previous evening, we thought we knew what to expect.  It had been busy and somewhat crowded but not as insane as Darkness Day or Dark Lord.  We arrived about 45 minutes before the tasting room officially opened.  Already exhausted staff bustled about making last minute preparations before the crowds returned.  We set up cameras, moved heavy boxes of priceless Abraxas, and even interviewed a few of the helpers.  Safe inside the shelter of the taproom, we watched a growing line of beer enthusiasts forming outside--a lengthy snake of thirsty humanity.  Ominous clouds rushed in, dark and tortuous, promising wicked rain.  

Inside I met my St. Louis counterpart: Eric Hildebrant.  An extreme beer geek, hooked into the local community, and blogger for STL Hops.  Perhaps this seemingly friendly alter-ego was my Nemesis for the trip?  Did his easy smile hide a wicked doppelganger with a nasty desire to take over my life and connections upon my return to Minnesota?  No, that would be crazy.  Wouldn’t it?  I would keep a sharp eye on him from now on...

Outside the treacherous clouds worsened.  Shadows fell upon the land, plunging the poor folks outside into a deep despairing darkness.  One of my best friends, Bryan, his girlfriend Megan, and friends Charley and wife Elizabeth, were out in that deadly weather.  With a crash, the bottom dropped out, instantly drenching the restive waiting line with a torrent of cold rain.  I hoped my friends were under cover.  

Within a few more minutes, the doors were opened and the crowd crushed into the small taproom, seeking refuge from the deluge outside.  The bar was filled in seconds, the mob, as a single entity, reaching for the precious dark Abraxas.  We struggled to film this madness from several angles, while still trying to get some of the beer for ourselves!  After throwing a few elbows, groin kicks, and Judo flips I was able to get my glass.  Two seconds later, they were out.  27 minutes and the keg was empty!  The humidity was nearly unbearable in this press of rabid humanity.  The overhead metal piping dripped with perspiration, as did all of us.  In the oppressive heat we sipped on 12% ABV thick and sweet spiced, barrel aged Imperial stout.  Not the most refreshing of beers for the heat, but so tasty that it was worth our trials.  When the keg had kicked they put on the Mint Imperial Stout Barrel Aged 17, to tempt us with more heavy ale.  Our friends were miraculously able to find seating and I finally had time to relax with them.

This day was also the release of Side Project Saison du Fermier.  Side Project is just that: a brewery within a brewery, where head brewer Cory King of Perennial does his own wild and barrel aged beers on a much smaller scale.  The release on tap of this saison started about an hour after Abraxas ran dry, encouraging all of us to stay longer.  Two lines, one for picking up Abraxas and one for Side Project, coiled through the brewery like living, pulsating, sweaty THINGS made of hot and sweaty people.  I had tried the wonderful Saison the night before, but on this close and sweaty day the beer was the refreshing blast I needed to keep functioning.  

Later, as the crowds died down, Rob, Ron, and I were invited into the inner sanctum of the brewery.  Large stainless fermenters crowded the back brewery rooms.  Heaps of filled kegs and pallets of bottled Perennial beers were stacked everywhere with seemingly frantic abandon.  Several large wooden foedors had just been delivered and somehow Ron managed to talk Cory into getting inside one for candid photos.  Ron, who when drinking decides that everyone else should be keeping up, handed me a full glass of an amber viscous substance that tasted of burning and my upcoming doom.  As we set up cameras and I interviewed Cory about his brewing, I kept setting the glass down or forgetting it in different places.  The glass would appear again in my hand as if by magic!  A small group of us got to share a bottle of last year’s Abraxas side by side with this year’s beast.  Both were amazing, but this trial, in addition to my boomerang glass of George Dickel whiskey was starting to affect my judgement.  During this time Rob and Ron interviewed Rachel, Perennial’s resident PR goddess.

When I thought the afternoon could rise no higher, we were invited into yet another secret and mysterious area of the brewery.  This was the dark and cool barrel room, where hundreds of bourbon and wine barrels, filled with mystical beer, slumbered away in silent repose.  One could smell the spirits diffusing through the wood and feel a subtle dampness upon the skin.  I talked to my possibly evil Doppelganger back there under the dim Christmas tree lighting, trying too decide which of us would leave this room alive.  Cory pulled rare samples from barrels to serve us.  We awaited with upturned mouths, cheeping baby birds waiting for our mother to regurgitate half digested food into our waiting beaks.  That damnable whiskey found its way back to my waiting hand like some demented and ill mannered hound!  Just then a loud and discordant symphony of warning klaxons bellowed from nearly everyone’s cell phones, startling us out of this dreamy reverie.  Tornado Warning!  At least we were already in the deepest recesses of the brewery and as safe as we were likely to get.  Shrugging off the fear of being crushed beneath tons of brick rubble and large wooden casks, we continued our after-party.  I ended up getting a chance to interview Phil Wymore, previously of Goose Island and Half Acre, and now Brewmaster of Perennial.  During our interview he held his young son in his arms.  Phil managed to keep his cool and answer all of my obscure questions, while his son pulled hilarious faces at the camera the entire time.  All joking aside, the entire staff at Perennial treated us like kings and I will always remember their hospitality.

The Barrel Room!

Chapter 6: Don't Bogart my BBQ, dude!

All good things must come to an end--and ours was ended by voracious hunger.  While barrel aged Abraxas was certainly filling, it was nearly 4 PM and we were in dire need of true sustenance!  I thought I could hear the building rumble around us, but instead of rampant tornadic activity, it was only Rob’s belly crying out in complaint!  We pulled Ron away from his recording and sampling, kicking and screaming out obscenities.  We were on a mission to get some filling food and only one thing would do: St. Louis BBQ!  At the suggestion from nearly everyone we talked to, our quest led to Bogart's, a family run classic BBQ joint not far from the brewery.

After parking nearby, Rob and I took some pictures for posterity and Ron ran ahead to scope out the terrain.  We had heard that Bogart's often ran out of food by this time of day and were desperate for some smoked meaty goodness!  Ron came running back, face aglow with adoration and excitement.  

“He is here!  Hurry up I need a picture with him!”  Ron gasped out.  He turned back and ran panting toward the restaurant.

We turned from our shooting and hurried up behind Ron.  Inconceivable!  It couldn’t be!  Standing next to an exuberant Ron with a pleasant and somewhat resigned look upon his face was Wallace Shawn.  Star of our childhood favorite, the Princess Bride, and more recently the voice of Rex in Toy Story, it was a strange and fortunate event to meet him at Bogart's!  We snapped a few shots and let him get back to eating with his family.  The three of us basked in the glow of celebrity proximity, residual blood alcohol levels, and a gratuitously large platter of smoked meats.  We ate with gusto, cramming our gullets full of protein while we watched the disappointing loss of the Triple Crown on TV.  

Chapter 7: A Civil Life

Sated for now, we headed out for another beery side trip.  This time we met up Bryan and his crew at Civil Life Brewing.  While 4 Hands is known as the “hoppy” brewery, and Perennial is the “artisan” brewery, Civil Life is the “session beer” brewery of St. Louis.  They focus on styles of beer under 6% ABV, mainly English and German styles.  With the Perennial Abraxas release this weekend, many more hordes of craft beer drinkers were in town and on the move, resulting in this being a very crowded place.  We met Bryan and posse, as well as Joe and some others from the Perennial event.  We took over much of the upper balcony area and shared many half-pints of fine lower alcohol beers.  Now this was the way to pace yourself!  With 4% beers I get full or have to “excrete” the beer before I get drunk.  Perfect!  I tried Eric’s Special Beer (ESB) named after my evil doppelganger-body-donor, Eric Hildebrandt.  It was wonderful.  Perhaps there was something in this special beer to help Eric take over my excessive lifestyle:  a genetic mutagen, slow poison, mind-control drugs?  It was so good that I would have to risk it.  

I went back downstairs, pushing past throngs of hipsters and ordered more beers from the Gary Oldman look-alike bartender.  I finished up with the Milk Stout--one of the best I’ve ever had!  I also met a few nice local homebrewers that I later would run into at NHC.  Strangely, instead of getting more paranoid after all the beers I’d had, I became more friendly and talkative than usual. 
Something in the ESB working at eroding my own will?  

It was not incredibly late, but we were full, dehydrated and drunk on life (and possibly beer), so we headed back to our base of operations at River City Casino.  We dropped off our equipment and headed down to the casino floor.  Again the wall of smog hit me and triggered my allergies almost immediately.  With a series of gagging coughs, weeping eyes and runners of snot dripping down my face, I tried to ignore it and moved on.  We lost more money on slot machines, many of them strange and incomprehensible to my slowly spinning mind.  Shiny!  Lots of beeping!  Around us were yet more septuagenarians selling away their pensions and spouses’ life insurance money on the repeated push of a button.  An air of desperation, sadness, and lost hope surrounded us.  I laughed in the face of my $20 spinning slowly down to nothing!  Ha!  Ha!  Nooooo!

Despite our encumbering lead-weight meat-meal from  Bogarts, we desired more food.  And beer of course.  The casino floor had both kinds of beer: Bud and Bud Light!  (The spectral hand of AB-INBEV cracked its knuckles and chuckled at our disgust.)  We discovered that the Beer House restaurant and bar in the casino actually had a decent tap list, but closed early.  We splurged on terrible (for us) nachos, wings, and rings.  If the beer didn't destroy my liver this trip, the food would likely cause my heart to burst from my chest like a violent alien fetus.  While eyeing my thudding and deforming chest suspiciously, Ron handed me the sizable beer list.  With excitement we discovered that they had 48 oz. mugs that we could take onto the casino floor!  Feeling like hobbits that realized beer came in pints, we all ordered one of these gargantuan beers.  The huge ceramic stein was difficult for me to lift with two hands and even more difficult to drink without spilling all over myself.  Rob’s bear-paw tipped his stein back like it was a half-pint back at Civil Life!  

Rob indulges his fetish for both kitties and sparkle!

We dragged our gratuitously sized mugs into the casino for some serious gambling.  Figuratively thumbing my nose at AB, I sipped at this growler-in-a-mug of Civil Life Brown ale for quite some time.  We joined a blackjack table, where I was thrust into the hardcore gambling life.  We had an ever rotating series of dealers, and a lady pit-boss that was rough around the edges and simultaneously hilarious.  At a table across from us a woman with a cackle to shame the Wicked Witch of the West would intermittently burst into this shrill and earsplitting sound.  Soon our entire table would echo this shriek in protest, and the poor dealers and staff would cringe.  Oh we were having fun!  My money slowly trickled away and Ron or Rob would stake me so I could continue.  I’d win small and pay them back, starting the process over again.  Our table included Angie, a fairly big winner who seemed to bring us some measure of luck, and certainly added some more fun to our game!  We ran through several dealers.  Keisha was great and at least entertained us when we lost.  Then came Amarr--that bastard!   He would give a little knowing smirk as we all lost big and then a small shrug of the shoulders to indicate that our luck had run out.  Later Keisha came back and stole more of our money, but killed us with kindness so it didn’t hurt so much. The smoke billowed about us like a second malodorous skin.  The shouts, bells and Witch-Cackle resounded through the casino floor.  I lost money but strangely felt OK with it.  I had payed for an experience and these were the wages of sin.  Oh, and I borrowed the money from Ron, so it totally didn't count.

48 oz and ghetto chiller...

Tired of hemorrhaging cash like a hemophiliac sticking his hand in a Cuisinart, we moved our party back to Ron’s room again.  There we drank some more Civil Life beers in their tiny medicine bottle growlers, listened to more music and discussed our epic day of debauchery.  To top this night of excesses, we cracked one of the best sour beers I have ever had.  This was the mythical Side Project beer called Fuzzy.  A very tart ale created with wild yeast gathered at Cory’s family farm, this beer was sharp, puckering, and incredibly complex with a lingering taste of fresh peaches.  Lucky for me, my compatriots are not sour beer fans, so I drank the lion’s share of this fermented wonder!  A fine way to finish this gonzo day.  1000 thanks to Cory and Perennial!  

Chapter 8: The Aftermath

We won't speak of the following morning.  But I had slowly, staggeringly, run the marathon.  We eventually gathered together to fill up our car with equipment, luggage and spoils of war.  We hunched briefly in the chill shadow of AB for a small segment for Limited Release.  We took some pictures at the Arch.  We had a quick lunch at the Shlafly Tap Room and sampled yet more beers.  Hair of the Dog and all that.  Then back to our respective homes, limping home, tired, overdosed on fine ales, gambling and too much meat.  In the end my nemesis was only ME!  There is no other moral to this tale.  Watch our old Limited Release episodes and keep an eye out for the upcoming episode to see us in action HERE.  A huge thanks to the fine folks of Perennial, and 4 Hands for treating us so well during this trip!

30 Word Thursday--The Bride

Derelict building hunches amongst its condemned brethren

Lost areas of The City

Urban sprawl

Urban decay

Urban renewal

Ghostly bride peers out at the wreckage

Wistful for times long past

This week's 30 Word Thursday picture was taken during a recent trip to St. Louis.  The city is full of character, but many areas we drove through were broken down, decrepit and bombed-out.  I was in the back seat with my camera, and snapped this picture of the building.  Only later did I notice the creepy and somewhat ghostly figure of the bride in the window.  Mannequin?  Or spectral observer?  Check out the other 30 Word Thursday entries at Erin's Treasures Found Blog!  

Beer & Loathing in St. Louis: Part 1!

Chapter 1: The Yeti; Strange Trip

I looked at my traveling companion with a sleepy eye.  Rob was a big, happy, bear-like man, perhaps hiding some Maori or Samoan blood in his family tree, and was also one of my oldest friends.  As my financial advisor and personal chef-to-the-stars, he was also indispensable for this trip.  We rode in our other friend Marty's vehicle, Rob scrunched into the back seat and making the old import list to the left and rear.  Marty navigated his heavily laden car seamlessly though the darkened streets of Suburban Minneapolis.  We called him The Yeti, as his image had never truly been caught on film, other than blurry fast-moving shots reminiscent of the Zapruder Film.  He is a survivalist, blacksmith, environmental scientist, and military man.  Our luggage nestled in the trunk with The Yeti's favorite axe.  Hey, you never know when you will need one!  While his favorite travels with him, he has a whole room full of axes in his country-side compound for unknown and unknowable uses... 

On the way to the airport I thought back to what had prompted this potentially foolhardy trip.  At a dinner of red meat and copious amounts of 5050 Eclipse Imperial Stout, Rob had convinced me to join him for what promised to be an epic trip of obscene proportions.  We would travel to St. Louis to film the release of the fabled Perennial Barrel Aged Abraxas--a white whale of a beer to rival Ahab's Moby Dick.  Having made a less than lucrative side career of such beer-travel with our other friend Ron, Rob worked hard to sell me on the deal.  I had only heard stories of their previous exploits, (and seen the footage from their Limited Release web show of course,) so I was intrigued.  Hopped up on Eclipse and copious amounts of meat, I agreed and the stars aligned to make it happen!

After arriving at the airport, unloading our luggage, and watching The Yeti screech away from the curb--avoiding unnecessary scrutiny and photographic evidence--we arrived at our gate.  Rob and I sat in the crowded airport, waiting with a mass of ragged humanity for our oversold flight from Minneapolis to St. Louis.  Hopped up on extreme amounts of coffee and lack of sleep, things took on a hazy and ominous cast.   In a quiet voice I asked him if he had managed to smuggle our needed supplies into his luggage.  This trip would require massive amounts of sustenance, but in recent years our ability to transport precious beer in carry-on baggage has been lost. 

"I was able to fit a couple bottles of Surly Darkness into my checked bag.  I just hope they don't open it up and remove the packing..." He whispered back, looking around himself surreptitiously. 

"That's all?  How are we supposed to stay properly fueled throughout this trip?  I knew we should have rented that convertible and packed the trunk full of beer!" I responded. 

Just then Rob grabbed my arm with his massive fist, looking across the gate with a paranoid look.  I turned my gaze to see what he was looking at and spotted Him.  Lurking amongst the traveling rabble was a man in an overly tight martial arts t-shirt sporting a Snidely Whiplash style goatee and twirly mustachios.  Perhaps it was nothing...but maybe Mister Mustache was studiously ignoring us.  In all great stories the protagonist needs a powerful antagonist.  An anti-hero.  A villain if you will.  Was this outrageous man with the villainous facial hair to be my nemesis?  Would he have the audacity to wear his shear evil right there on his pinched face? 

We boarded shortly, keeping a watching eye on our kung-fu villain.  We did not see any overt dangerous behavior.  I kept expecting him to pull out a monocle to polish, but if he had one, he kept it well hidden during our flight.  Our plane kept hitting pockets of wicked turbulence throwing the steward staff and some overhead roller-bags careening around the cabin like a demented pin-ball game.  I crossed my fingers and gripped my armrests until I felt they would tear free of their moorings.  I do not travel very well.  The main stewardess would periodically announce things over the loudspeaker with a subtle slur to her speech, showing evidence of either a stroke, or possibly of hitting one too many tiny bottles of booze on the flight... With a long bounce a loud rattle of plastic and metal shearing apart, we slid into St. Louis.  My villainous friend was nowhere to be seen.

Rob and I hustled our luggage into a waiting cab.  Upon hearing our destination, the cabby hesitated a beat and with dollar signs and sudden fear in his eyes he drove us far across the city.  We rode along glorious old-money boulevards and sprawling highways and byways.  We passed a huge complex of red brick buildings emblazoned with an enormous eagle.  Anheuser-Busch!  The enemy of craft beer?  Perhaps my nemesis was not to be a person at all, but a monolithic globe-spanning empire bent on winning market share and convincing people that cold is a flavor!  With AB's shadow looming over me upon the highway, this idea didn't seem far fetched.  Who else would want to silence our upcoming aria about the special release of a craft beer idol?  I would have to be cautious.

Come visit…Forever!

Passing bombed out brick buildings, razor wire with flapping beards of shredded plastic bags, junked out cars, and check cashing joints, we were nearly upon our destination.  We were dropped unceremoniously at a curb, near a large and mostly decrepit industrial building.  Thinking at first that our cab driver had refused to drive us deeper into the urban jungle and decided to dump us off quick, I made sure to grab all my bags fast.  While Rob paid our ludicrously high cab fare, I did finally spy a small sign for the Perennial tasting room upon a nearby wall.  Ah, safe indeed!  No problem other than walking through a borderline sketchy area with several thousand dollars worth of camera equipment--and rare Surly Beer!

Chapter 2: Perennial; 4 Hands



We met briefly with the staff at Perennial, all of whom were friendly and wholesome to a fault!  Ron was already there, awaiting our arrival and showing us the ropes.  We quickly learned how to dip bottles of precious Abraxas into hot wax!  A valuable skill for the future?  The brewpub is small and spare, clean and with artistic photos of the brewery upon the walls.  A small bar, one large table and several smaller ones provide limited seating.  Nestled in amongst the industrial sprawl of the building are apartments, a small salon, and the South Side Fight Club.  No one would talk about the fight club...

With a longing look back at Perennial and those unopened bottles of liquid black gold, we headed out for our next destination.  In another industrial area, past more battle-ground buildings was 4 Hands Brewing Company.  The brewery's sigil is four green clasped hands surrounded with leaves and resembling a hop cone, but eliciting a unnerving hidden Masonic message vibe when I looked very closely.

There, the three of us were greeted by a friendly bartendress and the owner, Kevin Lemp.  We were treated to high hospitality and drank many fine beers while filming segments for our magnum opus of beer journalism.  The Chocolate Milk Stout and Passion Fruit Prussian Berliner Weiss were incredible!  Behind the counter sat an ancient wooden warhammer, wrapped in iron spikes, making Thor's Mjolnir look like a children's toy.  I could barely lift this weapon, but Rob wrapped the handle with his massive paw and swung it about like a maddened atavistic Viking.  His normally placid eyes sparkled with mayhem and blood-lust.  Maybe I was wrong about his Maori blood...perhaps Old Norse?  Ron and I eased away from him and distracted him with more large beer samples.

We were given a personal tour of the back rooms and even upstairs in this old building to see the future expansion of the brewery.  With as much space as the lower level, the second floor will greatly increase their capacity for barrel aging beers.  But for now, it was a blank canvas.  A huge empty room with gaping holes in the wooden floor, daring one not to fall to a splintery death below!  They still have a bit of work to do, but this will be amazing!  Below, in the brewery, the heat and the noise was incredible.  We were able to interview the brewer Martin Toft, a good sport and a great brewer despite his suspicious lack of facial hair!  We shared a large plate of charcuterie from the world's tiniest kitchen and basked in the glory of rich food and an even richer group of beers.  Kevin, wonderful man that he is, sent us on our way with some parting words and some special beers.  Now this was how to start a beer adventure!

With that, it was time again to hop in Ron's rental car with all our gear and weave back (under the evil grinning shadow of AB) to Perennial for the release.  Ron, a professional race car driver, has a heavy lead foot and a propensity for taking turns using the hand-brake.  Arriving at the brewery, stumbling nauseously from the car, my vestibular system still spinning, I staggered past Fight Club and into the waiting tap room.  We were able to shoot past the gathering line of locals who had already received a ticket for their bottle of Abraxas.  Some were sharing mysterious bottles already--getting prepared for a beer that would blow their minds!  Rob and Ron set up their cameras, and I scurried about taking still shots of the brewery.  An air of frantic expectation abounded as staff hurried to prepare for the upcoming onslaught of beer geeks in search of their quarry. 

Ron took me aside for a quick pep talk.  "You are new to these limited release parties, and need to keep one thing in mind.  Think of this weekend as a marathon, not doing wind-sprints until you hurl!"

With those kind and true words, the flood gates opened and Perennial was flooded with beer aficionados of every stripe and color.  A hipster with curly mustachios and skinny jeans.  A couple of guys in business suits.  Girls wearing beer shirts.  Lots of larger men with varied beard styles.  Girls in summer dresses.  Babies and toddlers.  The crew of Limited Release.  After the initial burst of excitement to get a snifter of the fabled beer, things quickly relaxed and many formed an orderly line to gather up their precious bottles.  I was finally able to sneak forward to the bar and snag a glass of the elixir.  Barrel Aged Abraxas!  Deep black and viscous, like motor oil, with almost no head left on it.  The beer was sweet, alcoholic, with subtle spicing of cinnamon, chili, and chocolate.  At nearly 12% ABV this beast was dangerous and wonderful beyond mere words.  With language deserting me, I fell back to pleased grunts and coos of happiness.  This beer could mess you up.  Was this deadly beer itself my Nemesis?  Would this complex and boozy Black-Blood-of-the-Earth be the end of me?  With Ron's warning in mind, I decided that only time would tell…








Abraxas was fleeting, running dry quickly under the heavy pressure to drink it down.  I had to try some of Perennial's other beers of course.  For research.  The beers mostly had lyric and magical names like Aria, Saison de Lis, and Tart Hopfentea.  And then there was Plan B.  My tongue and mind reveled in these artisan ales, ranging from saison to sour to tea-infused.  Their IPA was aged with the remnants of Louisville Slugger bats!  Despite the promise, it did not knock me onto my buttocks. 

We interviewed patrons, all of whom were discerning and knowledgeable about the brewery and craft beer in general.  We did not unmask any potential spies and infiltrators from AB, though we asked probing questions to attempt it.  Our Abraxas sizzled minds were convinced that they were there at this crowded event, gathering data for their focus groups and marketing men to dissect, attempting to discover just what it is about "Craft Beer" that has taken the world by storm.  The shadowy fingers of the once local giant must be unwilling to release their death grip on the market.  They will forever be confused by us!

Chapter 3: Trouble!

Eventually we had to head to our hotel and get food to soak up our ingested liquid repast.  Just a short jaunt away from Perennial was the River City Casino.  With a bellow of  "We've got trouble, right here in River City!"  I entered this den of iniquity.  Arms laden with camera equipment, luggage and boxes full of beer, I flailed going through the rotating door.  My new 4 Hands coffee mug went flying in slow motion to shatter in a million jagged porcelain bits across the lobby.  But the box full of Abraxas was safe!  With an entrance like this I expected the music to stop, the lights to turn up and everyone to turn with a surprised look.  I was dead wrong.  There was nothing.  Perhaps all the denizens of this place were so jaded or deafened by the cacophonous sounds of the casino floor that they had ceased to notice the world around them! 

We headed for the fancy steak house in the casino for dinner, dropping half a Benjamin each for our overpriced meaty repast.  Not surprisingly, our waiter knew little about beer.  We all ended up getting gratuitous 50's cocktails to fit our Mad Men dinner fixings.  Rob sipped on a dainty martini, gripped like a tiny glass tea cup in his massive hand.  Ron had a gin and tonic.  I had a booze-laden Old Fashioned against my better judgement.  Rob and I each ordered the all meat sampler platter, and found both to be tough and overdone.  After sending them back in dismay, and starting to feel the Old Fashioned effects upon myself, we were entertained by our erstwhile waiter showing off video of Cher on his cell phone.  This night was just getting stranger and stranger! 

Booze in belly and cash in pocket we rolled out for the casino proper.  Eating, drinking and gambling!  Having become accustomed to smoke-free environments, the wall of cigarette smoke hit me like a tangible thing.  A haze of grey-white smoke swirled about us, enveloping us in it's carcinogenic embrace, welcomed us into the cavernous room, filled with death and despair.  The crashing, jangling, beeping babel of this place was obscene, yet strangely familiar and not entirely terrible.  We wasted some of our time and money on slot machines of lurid and strange design.  Dolly Parton sang to me sweetly as she stole my money.  The bizarre 1970's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory machine taunted me with strange throw-back images and clips from my childhood...as it stole my money.  Alongside us were plentiful obese and elderly women working hard on developing lung cancer and gambling away their life savings. 

Stepping from this dark and cacophonous place, a last twirl of evil mist clinging to our bodies, we headed upstairs to convene in Ron's room for a finish to the evening's niceties.  Ron magically produced a deck of holed cards from somewhere and began dealing out hand after hand.  Not having been sated in our desire for good beers with the limited options below, we cracked in quick succession the bomber bottles from 4 Hands.  The Cuvee Ange was an unusual mix of blackberry, raspberry and wine barrel aged beer--perhaps a bit too sweet, but wonderfully complex.  We listened to obscure Pink Floyd songs and continued our debauchery!  The next beer was Volume #1, a miraculous bourbon barrel aged Imperial Stout with coffee and cocao nibs.  The labels on these beers were actually made of nearly paper thin wood!  And I lost some more at cards.  As the beer flowed and the world got shiny, we expanded our listening selections to include Steel Panther, and Rob showed us YouTube videos that we can never un-see!  We opened the appropriately named 3 Kings: a great tripel with coffee--strong and sweetish.  A celebration of We Three Kings of St. Louis!  And our final drink of the evening was the amazing Side Project Saison de Fermier--dry, tart, barnyard goodness.  

Three Kings!

Head spinning with lack of sleep, wicked demon alcohol, atrocious videos, and some of St. Louis' finest craft beers, I stumbled up to my own room for bed.  Less than a full day in this city and I may have met my match!  Pacing.  Pacing.  Pacing!  Ron's cautionary words rang in my head with the sizzling fuzz of too many strong ales: must run the marathon, not wind-sprints until you hurl!  

To Be Continued in Episode 2!


Author's Note:  This write-up may take slight liberties with reality.  The author happened to be reading Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas while on this trip, and the stew of poor sleep, alcohol and this over-the-top book led to what you have read.

Anheuser-Busch Brewery St. Loius, MO

For a change of pace on our recent trip to St. Louis my wife and I took a tour of the biggest, baddest, brewing behemoth to be found in the USA:  Anheuser-Busch Brewery!  Let me first off explain my thoughts of AB.  I came to the beer scene late, (despite helping my mom brew when I was much younger,) I really didn't get interested in beer until I tried Pyramid Apricot Ale and Sam Adams Cherry Wheat.  Realizing that all beers were not pale fizzy flavorless macro-swill I tried my hand at homebrewing some of my own and really learned a lot about different styles by hanging out at Goose Island Brewpub and tasting all their concoctions.  As Goose Island grew, they tried new things like bourbon barrel aging and sour beers, and I continued to love these interesting new beers.  Not too long ago, my GI was bought by AB to the consternation of many of us beer geeks.  I have to say that so far the only change I have noticed is increased distribution and availability of their beers, and no big drop in quality.  AB has brewed many attempts at craft beers on their own, but they always seem to pull back and put out a product that is too sweet, too light, too flavorless to really appeal to the craft beer drinker, instead aiming at trying to get the widest audience.  I have viewed AB and the other macro companies as more interested in marketing and selling product than being concerned about actual beer quality.  So going into this tour, I had some serious preconceptions, making this trip almost an ironic one. 

On arrival, we entered through a large entry way decorated by a glorious wooden eagle symbol, seemingly made just for photo-ops.  Beyond this was an enormous open gallery area filled with cases of AB paraphernalia from the ages.  Cool old pocket knives, bottles, logos, and a full sized old beer truck.  Since we arrived early we had time to check out all this neat stuff, really getting a feel for the age and scope of one of the early and most successful breweries in the USA.  They had a collection of the old German style intricately decorated beer steins that were amazing to look at, and I'm still mad that they didn't have any replicas for sale in the gift shop.

We chose to do the Brewmaster's Tour for a more in-depth visit of the brewery than is given for free to the general public.  Our tour started promptly at 10 AM and consisted of us and one nice couple from Canada, obviously big fans and decked out in Budweiser gear.  Our Tour guide Jonathan was a very friendly guy and quite knowledgeable about brewing and the history of the place.  He started working there before he was legal to drink and was excited to finally be old enough to give the tours.  We started out in a cozy room with plush leather couches and a big TV.  There was a quick overview of the brewing process and looking at hops and malts.  I was passed a canister of Black Patent malt and snarkily asked what AB beer that was used in.  The answer was none...it was just to show the potential differences in color of malts.  Maybe they should start using some...  We received an AB ball cap, protective eye wear and headphones.  Once we were all decked out in our gear we started the tour proper.

First stop were the glycol jacketed primary fermenter conicals.  These things boggled the mind.  I've seen all types of conicals ranging from homebrew 7 gallon to New Belgium's large tanks, but the monolithic nature of these tanks was insane!  I couldn't fit a whole fermenter in a picture!  It was also somewhat chilly in there.  We discovered why we had headsets since the background noise would overwhelm a normal tour guide...we simply turned up the volume and learned more about the capacity of those enormous tanks.  Do I remember any of that info?  Nope, my mind is like a sieve.

Next step was the secondary fermenters, smaller but still huge.  Very cold in here and I'm glad we had coats on!  They showed us the large stainless tea-ball apparatus filled with beachwood chips that help with clarification and fermentation of the beer.  These strips of wood are boiled to hell first so they don't impart any flavor to the final product.  One of the perks to the Brewmaster tour was getting to try a fresh sample of beer right off the fermenter.  That day we had Bud Light: brewed at about 8.5% ABV and unfiltered at this stage, it tasted like a cloudy Imperial Cream Ale.  Best Bud Light ever!  This would eventually be filtered and watered down to its final light beer status, and no longer taste like anything.

A word about the brewery grounds.  Massive.  That is the only word that describes it.  The complex takes up several city blocks and is made up of dozens of huge brick buildings, all of various vintages, shapes and sizes.  Some of the buildings are original from the 1890's, others from 1910, and onward.  The grounds themselves are very well-kept with gardens and trees abounding.  Even the trash cans and man-hole covers have the AB eagle symbol on them.  A large clock tower sits in the center of this complex, flanked by eagle-topped pillars.

Our next location was the brewery itself filled with gargantuan stainless mash tuns.  This is the fanciest brewery I've ever seen.  Two extensive hop bine chandeliers dangle over the brewing area, which is beautifully tiled and accented with gold leaf.  There are large and impressive paintings from one of the old World's Fairs in the building as well.  Scroll work metal railings look out from each floor into the central area and sky-lights let in what little light there was on this cloudy day.  I could have spend an hour in here taking pictures, but we were on a schedule.

A bit farther to walk and we came to the packaging building.  This was built just prior to prohibition and was initially meant to be used as a hotel if the brewery was threatened with failure.  Because of that, there is ornate tile work and fanciful light fixtures.  Each corner of the building boasts a large rock Bevo: the man-fox holding a mug and a chicken leg that became the mascot for AB's non-alcoholic malt beverage during prohibition.  Bevo also frolics amongst the tiles in the lobby of the building.  Upstairs is the bottling line.  Even with earphones turned up, it was very difficult to hear our guide inside.  They were bottling 40 oz Becks beers that day and I can't even imagine how many bottles there were zinging this way and that on the extensive and maze-like apparatus.  Labeling, filling, capping, boxing.  One lady was pulling off the low-fills and tossing them into a big dumpster.  Green glass littered the ground.  That is why they have about a thousand warnings about no open toed shoes in the literature and agreement for doing this tour!

From Bevo, we caught a cool old wood-lined Budweiser trolly to the Clydesdale stables.  They keep a few horses here for show as well as a bunch of the old tack and bridles.  The majority of the horses are bred and cared for at a large stable outside of town, and travel in air conditioned padded (and big) trailers to their other home and for special events like the Superbowl.  Much like the rest of AB's grounds and style these horses are freakishly huge.  They stand 6 foot tall at the shoulder, making me feel like a small child next to one.  All of the horses there that day were not cooperating with good picture taking and all I could get was a few pics of unusually large horse behinds.  They also had three of the red wood and sparkling brass beer wagons that are usually hauled by the draft horses.  Very neat, but the glare off all that brass also made for crappy pictures.

At this point it started to lightly rain, which I had been expecting for a while now.  We continued to walk between towering buildings that cut out most of the wind and rain.  We passed a white metal trailer covered with bio hazard symbols that houses the limes for Bud Light Lime.  I had no idea they actually used limes in that!  Not sure why they are so hazardous though... Just past there we saw a tanker truck filled with clam juice for the Clamato.  Our guide said that when they spill some of the clam juice it stinks up the whole complex.  Of note at one point in our walking tour a group of people hustled past us frantically donning yellow hazmat bunny suits.  Perhaps they were on their way to clean up a clam spill?  Or dealing with dangerous limes?

We came next to the chilly bright tanks, where they lager the beer before bottling it.  Our guide inserted a pig-tail into the grand tank and Budweiser began to spill onto the ground.  We were given AB tasting glasses with the eagle logo etched into the bottom for better bubble formation, and got to fill them directly from the tank.  Probably due to the cool factor of getting to drink directly from the tank, this was the best Budweiser I've ever had.  Don't worry, I'm not going to suddenly drop craft beer!

To cap off the tour we walked into the large tasting room.  Our guide led us through the room past all the coolers and taps and back to the room we started the tour in.  "We don't drink with those people," our guide commented.  Back in our comfy warm room with big leather couches we were shown to a mini fridge packed full of beers, and told that we had about an hour until the tour was officially over.  The regular tour gets two samples at the tasting room, but we could open whatever we wanted.  Pretty cool, but would have been cooler if the beers were better!  We tried the nasty Wild Blue, and a bunch of the Shock Top flavors...all of them just not quite getting the amount of flavor right to be called craft beer.  The Bud Light Lime was surprisingly good, I could see drinking it on a hot day with tacos.  Dangerous limes though...  The Lime-A-Rita sounded gross, but wasn't too bad.  Not a beer though.  The other guy on our tour really had no interest in trying the other beers, he just wanted his regular Budweiser.  This is one of the core difference between craft beer drinkers and macro drinkers.  Most people find a beer they are comfortable with and know it will taste the same wherever they are, sticking to it forever.  Craft beer people always want to try something new, but can still have favorites that they return to.

This was a great tour and a really interesting way to spend the morning in St. Louis.  Despite my thoughts of the beers in general and of the predatory practices of the big companies, I was pleasantly surprised with the trip.  To come full circle, like Goose Island being bought out, AB themselves have recently been bought by In-Bev, the Belgian based macro-giant.  Looking at the history of this place and the generations of brewers and workers that have been here, I regret that the company is no longer a true symbol of American industry.  Who knew I would ever feel bad for AB?

St. Louis: Rain, Bowling and Beer

For our second day in St. Louis we had unfortunate weather, overcast sky and frigid rainfall.  Luckily our wonderful hotel provided a large umbrella for our day's explorations.  We had a very pleasant breakfast in the Moonrise Hotel's restaurant which was decorated in awesome Flash Gordon-esque pulp sci-fi art and had a giant funky juke box in the bar area. 

From there we wandered in the rain along the Walk Of Fame, featuring stars for such folks as Scott Bakula and Chuck Berry.  Most of the shops along here didn't open until 11, so we mostly window shopped until our walk back.  We saw a strangely large amount of Thai restaurants including Thai Pizza, as well as many small independent art galleries and curio shops.  I discovered a Vintage Vinyl, a large music store with actual CD's!  I bought the remastered Sugar CD Copper Blue and a Yes box set to fulfill my Alternative and Progressive rock needs.  Sj got some CD's by a band called Wussy that she had seen in concert recently...they are really good!

Our next stop was the Schlafly Bottle Works, the other location for this fantastic local brewery.  Located in a large warehouse building with a large but very wet outdoor beer garden, this is the larger of the two brewpubs.  Inside is a bit more modern and industrial than the other site, but still welcoming.  Black and white pictures of the brewery and brewing equipment line the walls in the dining area, interspersed with fantastic colorful chalkboard art and label paintings.  I tried the tasty and drinkable Belgian Singel, and the New Zealand hopped Tasmanian IPA.  Love the Schlafly beers!  My food was an enormous pastrami sandwich that made me not want to eat for a day!  Over our trip we found the Schlafly beers pretty much everywhere we went and it was always a great go-to brand.  Try the beers if you get a chance.  I bought myself a present there: a heavy stainless steel tap handle with 6 interchangeable beer displays.

On our way home we my have become lost briefly, but ended up running into a most impressive animal and jungle structure made entirely of iron.  We stopped the car and made sure to get a closer look.  This was near the entrance to the Zoo, but we didn't have time to really go in there.  An amazing piece of work!

Next up was Six Row Brewing, a newer and smaller brewery located in the old Falstaff Brewery building.   This is a small brewery, reminding me a lot of Barley Johns in Minnesota.  The bartender was very friendly and attentive, and knowledgeable about the beers.  He took our picture climbing up the stairs to the mash tun.  Overall the beers were not great, but I've had far worse.  The Whale (wheat pale ale) was interesting, but not my thing.  The special release Killer Whale had some fermentation issues:  Sj sniffed hers and gave me a funny look...yes buttered popcorn diacetyl was strong with this one.  Knowing we had more drinking to do this evening, we left some beer unfinished and headed to our next destination.


Our next stop: Urban Chestnut Brewery.  This place was in an old mechanic shop, with the brew system visible through the large garage doors.  The Tasting Room was concrete, solid wood chairs and tables, and a very nice wood bar.  One group of beers they brew is the Reverence Series:  more traditional ales and lagers like Zwickel, Pils, and Belgian Wit.  They also have a Revolution Series that is aimed more at pushing the envelope:  STLIPA (St. Louis Double IPA), Winged Nut (nice brown with real chestnuts,) and Old Tjikko spruce ale (Pine-Sol in a glass.)  All the beers (minus Pine-Sol beer) were very tasty and there was something for each of us to enjoy.  The tasting room was busy but not insane on a Monday night, but I bet this joint is crazy on the weekends.  The brewery style was great and I'd love to spend more time here.  No samplers, but they will serve a taste of something for free when you place your drink order.  One of the bartenders steered us toward two more places we should visit tomorrow...showing off the collegial nature of the local beer scene.

Next stop Three Kings pub for food and more drinks.  Captain Crunch Shrimp = awesome!  Great burger with deep fried jalapenos, spicy mayo and pepper jack cheese as well.  They had a great beer list and did samplers.  Got to try the Schlafly Bourbon Aged Imperial Stout that was quite tasty...but I wouldn't want more than that sampler size of it.

By now we had been out on the town all day and were back by our hotel.  Not to stop the excellent day we were having, we opted to try out the Pin-Up Bowl right next to the hotel.  A lot like a newer and less crowded Bryant Lake Bowl, this place had great beers and cocktails.  They have an excellent pin-up theme with cool posters and of course hipsters abounded here.  We actually had the place nearly to ourselves late on a Monday night, and bowled several frames getting ready for our JAB homebrew club bowling coming up later in the month.  I beat Sj two games and came so close to catching up in the third.  She really hates losing.  And wearing skanky bowling shoes.  But we had a great time and I'd highly recommend the place.  A quick wander back and we were at the hotel...up early in the morning to visit Anheiser Busch Brewery!

St. Louis Trip 2012: The Arch...and some beers!

Last week my wife was in St. Louis for a conference and I flew out on Sunday to join her for a few days of concentrated fun in a new city for both of us.  I was out there one time just after graduating college, and remember seeing the zoo, but not much else, so this was really mostly new to me.  At around noon I picked up a rental car and with the help of my trusty and out of date GPS, I managed to find Sj at her downtown hotel and find a parking spot nearby. 

Keep in mind that small building back there is a huge Cargill malt house!

We walked across the highway to view the incredible work of architecture and human hubris that is the St. Louis Arch.  There is no way to truly describe this amazing monument that will get across the scale of it.  All of the pictures I've seen before failed to demonstrate the sheer size of this titanic structure of metal.  I am afraid of heights and just looking up at the top of the arch was making me want to sit down and hug the earth.  I had planned on going up in the little 1960's era yellow pods that pack 5 people in and hoist up to the top.  That did not happen once I saw how far up that really was.  Luckily Sj had figured I'd gimp out and had gone with a friend the day before. 

We went into the subterranean structure beneath the arch that houses a gift shop, mercantile and a free museum of the Westward Expansion. For the second time in one day I had to go through a metal detector, with security being almost as good as the airport.  The museum was fairly cool, and apparently set up pretty randomly.  Can't complain about free though! 

By this time we were getting a bit hungry.  Not wanting to settle for a crappy national chain, I wanted to try something local for lunch.  I checked out my trusty iPhone and discovered a brew pub within walking distance and we headed out in search of adventure and food.  We found a street of clubs and bars that looks like Mini-Bourbon-Street and the pub was very busy.  Morgan Street Brewery was on the end of a block, taking up a large space in a very old red brick building.  We talked to the host and he said there was a 45 minute wait for a table and there were no seats left at the bar.  He promptly left us hanging without waiting to see if we wanted to get on the list.  Of note, he apparently was helping a big group add a 4-top table to their seating arrangement to make room for more people joining them.  Sj and I were not pleased and very hungry by this time (2 PM.)  After some evil stares we moved to an empty area of bar-top where other tables had stolen the stools from.  5 minutes passed before we even saw anyone working the bar.  2 more minutes and we had made eye contact with no less than three people to make it known we were waiting.  7 more minutes and a bartender finally came over and helped us.  They did have a sampler of the beers on tap, and we ordered one to quickly share.  I tried a marzen (OK,) a honey wheat (meh,) Unbreakable Girder (a mediocre Imperial Pilsner,) and a pretty decent Pumpkin Lager.  Overall, not fans of this place.  I'd give them another try on a quiet day, but the beers were not enough to get me back here.

While I was finishing off the beer sampler, Sj was in contact with our local friends Steph and Paul and organizing our next stop.  "Why are you drinking at that place?" They asked, as we got directions to a "Real" brewery:  The Schlafly Taproom.  This place was much more like it!  Taking up a large old brick building not too far from where where we had been, it boasts a large white tank, some foliage and a few old barrels outside.  Inside it has two large seating areas, each with a separate bar, and large wooden beams and open duct work.  Each bar is unique, with my favorite showing a back-splash of deep green tiles and a goat, hop and grain crest in complimentary colors.  I was able to get a sampler of six beers, but they had about 12 on tap, not including one or two cask offerings.  All the beers I had were quite good.  The coffee oatmeal stout was well done, with a perfect mix of coffee and malt.  My favorite was a 2011 vintage barleywine that had a deep color and lots of dark fruit complexity and firm hopping.  I bought a bottle of this year's vintage to age on my own.  Thank goodness they had some food!  I had amazing fries that came with a sampler of 5 different dipping sauces, as well as a spent-grain beer bread with a blue cheese spread.  The feel of this brewpub is relaxed, comfortable and classic brewpub.  I automatically felt like this was "my" local brewery and I would certainly spend a lot of time here if I lived in town.  Reminds me a lot of Town Hall Brewery in Minneapolis, but with slightly more upscale food.

From here we checked into The Moonrise Hotel, a really unusual boutique hotel featuring a ton of moon related art, and memorabilia.  A TV in the lobby plays old moon-landing footage, and old toys and decorations line packed cabinets around the place.  A huge moon rotates on the roof, up by the (closed this time of year) Rooftop bar.  Tastefully frames old 1900's prints of people hanging off moons adorn the walls in the room, adding some charm.  The service here was amazing with everyone we met being incredibly friendly.  The place is located along the St. Louis Walk Of Fame on the loop and is walkable to a lot of cool stores and restaurants.

For dinner we walked across the street to Pi, a local pizza place featuring fresh local ingredients and amazing pies.  They had a great beer list and did samplers, so we got to try some more local brews without over doing it.  One beer in particular was Pi Pale ale brewed for them by upstart local brewery 4 Hands (more on them later!) Also a great California Common brewed for them by Schlafly. 

After this we were in food and beer coma mode and promptly staggered back home and to a restful night's slumber under the watchful winking eyes of several moons.