Monday, October 15, 2012

Beer Fest

A few years ago, my husband went to the Great American Beer Festival (GABF for those seasoned in the lingo) with his brothers and dad.  He talked and talked and talked about how awesome it was, which really helped to rub in the fact that I wasn't there.

Since then, we've officially become home brewers, which is a whole different set of crazy if you ask me.  There is a little something for everyone in it.

And for those of you paying attention, we elected the beer exception from our new gluten free lifestyle.  ;)

If you like the science part, you'll be geeking out with the books and manuals and precise instructions and the need to sterilize everything in a five mile radius.

If you like the creative part, you get to blend and mix ingredients for different tastes.  Then, if you're so inclined, you can make labels for the bottles.  My suppressed inner graphic designer is showing.


If you are just a bit anal retentive, you get to bottle the beer.  Attention to detail is the difference between perfectly good beer and what are affectionately known as bottle bombs.

If you're a cheap bastard but have good taste in beer, this is marginally less expensive than buying the good stuff.

If you like to drink beer, then this is just a WIN.

Since we are home brewers and all now, we are members of some secret underground club that gets you access to tickets to GABF before they go on sale to the general public.  Which is good, because apparently the thing is sold out within hours.

So we got tickets.

I was not really sure what to expect, but I probably should have been tipped off when the husband bought a box of pretzels and promptly started stringing them up to make necklaces.


We walked in and I was immediately overwhelmed by the size of the convention center.  And the male to female ratio.  No lines for the ladies room, but long ass lines for the men's.



For reals....if you are a single lady and don't mind beards, hang out here.  Men as far as the eye could see.  Mostly with beards.  There seem to be uniform requirements for being part of this secret society.  Men must grow beards and wear goofy glasses.  Then, they must make matching t-shirts and hang out with at least four other guys who look strikingly similar.

This is a team sport, this beer drinking nonsense.

Yes, they were dressed as Shriners.  Little red plastic cars and all.
I have since developed an affection for beards.  Grow em, guys.  Long and strong.  And mustaches.  Real ones.  There must have been at least ten handlebar mustaches walking around there.

Magnificent.

Speaking of the beer drinking group t-shirts, this one by far was my favorite.


I wasn't just there for the people watching, though it may seem that way. I was there to drink a whole lotta beer too.  We hit it pretty hard in the beginning, and one of the best was from an Irish pub in Virginia that ended up winning a ton of awards.  Better that that, they handed out temporary tattoos.

My husband is still rocking his.  Upside down.  Crooked.  Like a boss.

We tried to stick to the porters and stouts.  I'm a knife and fork beer drinker.  And, apparently I am also really a man.

The thing about the porters and stouts is that they almost uniformly have a higher alcohol content.  Even when you're only drinking an ounce at a time, it catches up to you pretty quick.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Some of my favorite beers included:

The Kolob Kolsch Ale from the Wasatch Brewery in Salt Lake City.  A taste out of this world.  But never on Sunday.  (this is hilarious for so many reasons, but if you don't know why, I'm not telling)

The Yeti Imperial Stout from Great Divide Brewing Company here in Denver.  Everyone should have the chance to see a yeti at least once.

The Balefire Irish Red from Echo Brewing Company in Firestone, which ended up winning an award this year.  A fairly new brewery, local and good.

The Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout from Wynkoop Brewing Company in Denver.   And yes, this beer is absolutely made with bull testicles.  It was a little salty.  (insert rim shot)

I hit up the Oskar Blues tent more than a few times, which makes absolutely no sense considering I can drink their beer here at home anytime.  But whatever.

And this, right here, is as close as either of us got to drinking PBR.


There's just no good reason on earth to go somewhere like this and drink shitty beer.  But humiliating yourself publicly by wearing PBR footie pajamas?????  Yes, please.

Hopefully next year the husband won't be on crutches or in a cast. We've got some uniform planning to do.

4 comments:

  1. LOL, humiliating yourself publicly is always better with beer!

    ReplyDelete
  2. PBR did win the large brewery award. Don't know what determines it though.

    ReplyDelete
  3. There is so much awesomeness in this post, I don't know where to begin.

    But your necklace?? You got yourself a winner there (in terms of husbands AND accessories).

    ReplyDelete

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