What's the Best Island Whisky

HOW AN IRISHMAN TAUGHT ME TO LOVE SCOTCH

In my early twenties, I moved from Hannover to Karlsruhe. Hannover is notorioulsy Germany's grayest city, so I moved to Germany's sunniest city. Supposedly, Karlsruhe was inspired by the sun's rays shining through branches as the prince napped beneath them. He woke up and planned "Sonnenstadt" setting up the streets to emanate from the palace like sunbeams. He called it Karl's rest, but many called it sun city and still do. Some even say it has ties to sun worship and the occult.

Karlsruhe 1721

There's a grave in the middle of the city that looks like a pyramid. Inside is the prince. It's one of those cities city planners, transit designers, and architects know about. I taught English around town and spent most evenings at a pub called Flynn's Inn.

Dave Flynn was a guy who traveled around the world opening Irish pubs for other people until he got sick of that and opened his own pub in Karlsruhe. Flynn's Inn was where every English-speaker in town congregated. It was home base. Dave was a whisky nut and had a secret stash from Kildare and other parts of Ireland he'd share with regulars and friends.

I think it's safe to say I knew almost nothing about whisky before knowing Dave Flynn.

One of the bartenders, Simon, a kind Irish poet, rented a room from me for a while. And even though I never had any money, Dave took good care of me and even let me take advantage of some whisky tastings. At one of those tastings I had a glass of my all-time favorite Scotch: Scapa 12-year.

It tasted like a little bit of peat mixed with the sea and grass of Scottland. I couldn't get enough. It transported me to windswept cliffs. I got really romantic about this Scotch. The host of the tasting told me they let Scapa Flow flood the distillery every year and do nothing about it. I can't find any evidence of this online, but I like the legend, so I'm going to keep repeating it until the distillers write me and tell me to stop.

My last night in Germany was spent in Flynn's Inn surrounded by friends I'd mostly never see again.

Stateside, I almost never found Scapa, but when I did I flipped out (I found it at the Franklin in Vegas and nearly drank them out of it). And when I was in Europe I usually sniffed some out. Their 12-year tasted like an 18 and brought me back to unknown shores. Little did I know Scapa produced no new juice from 1994 to 2004.

Now there's the Orcadian, widely available at least in the western states.

The Orcadian is a smooth and super-quaffable 16-year. It's all honey and salt and citrus, and so delicious it's hard to compare it to anything the same age. That seems to be the magic of this distillery: everything tastes much older than its age statement claims. That means it's a bargain because something of similar quality with an older statement is usually MUCH more expensive. Also, they claim that their angel's share is far less in comparison to other distilleries because of their location. Scapa is on the bank of Scapa Flow, and they're the second-most northern distillery in Scotland (Highland Park has them beat by half a mile).

The new packaging screaming for Americans to love them makes me think I'll be able to get this for a while into the future. And it's pretty and blue and has a little boat on it, and I love it. 

I miss their 12-year. That might be just my nostalgia. I love the Orcadian and want to drink more of it and tell my stories of my expatriate days when the only place I could speak English was with the other foreigners at Flynn's.

I don't know what happened to his spot in Karlsuhe, but Dave Flynn has a Flynn's Inn in Bonn now, and I hope to visit him some day. 

What's the Best Cheap Wine

THE BEST CHEAP WINE IS CK MONDAVI

The first time I heard the term Sommelier, was at a place called Club 33, a hidden club at Disneyland. His name was Pierre and he suffered me as a buser who asked too many questions. I learned more about drinks there than I would anywhere else.

I'd find out how to make drinks at the bar from a magical bartender named Lee, and I'd make them for my friends at home. But Pierre was more about wine and Cognac of course. He'd let us try a little bit each day to train us on what we were serving. And at the end of the night, if guests had left bottles not quite empty, we'd help ourselves to their leftovers. It was a great way to learn about wine.

Pierre was from some famous steakhouse in Texas, but he didn't have a Texas accent. He had a very posh American accent; he never said "y'all," but sometimes "you all." And I liked him a lot because he seemed to know everything I didn't but wasn't a manager and didn't lord it over me. My managers there were nice enough, but it was only the second time I'd worked in a real restaurant, and since we were all pretty young, they had a lot to do with training us; they had to be really hands-on.

So one day, I went to the supermarket and saw a bottle of Mondavi,and I bought it because I thought wow, this is the house wine at Club 33. This is really good stuff and it's on sale. I brought it home and shared it with my roommates and went on and on about how good this wine was and regaled them with all the things I knew.

They were sufficiently impressed.

I went into work the next day proud of my accomplishment and told Pierre. He looked at me sideways and asked which Mondavi I'd bought, and when I told him, he burst out laughing in my face.

Apparently CK Mondavi was the cheapest, bottom-of-the-line wine I could have bought. I didn't know anything about how much a bottle should cost or anything.

It took a while for the burn of that embarrassment to cool down--YEARS! I had to leave America a year later, travel the world, and come back to America, before I thought it was safe to drink ANYTHING from Mondavi again. But when there were hard times and I was broke as hell, I drank CK and let it remind me of a simpler, less weltschmerzy time.

CK Mondavi is available in a 1.5 L bottle for around $10.00, and it tastes as good as it did before I knew any better.

At the time this story took place, CK (Charles Krug) was owned by Peter Mondavi, who studied oenology at Berkeley. The vineyard was known mostly for mid-range affordable wine, and still is. Up the street about six miles, Robert Mondavi, Peter's brash brother who'd been forced out of the family business due to sibling rivalry, was busy making premium wine and using his family name and penchant for marketing (he and his brother both studied econ and business at Stanford)  to build an empire. In 1997, the brothers weren't talking except in court.

If you didn't know who Robert Mondavi was, he's the guy who really put Napa Valley on the map. He's also the reason why Americans (and now consequently most of the world) refer to wines by their varietal rather than their region names. For example a Beaujolais is a type of wine that refers to a very specific region. You'd have to know what grapes grow in that region to really know what grapes are in your Beaujolais-Villages (mostly Gamay).

Mondavi hated that because he wanted to grow whatever he wanted in Napa. He wanted the consumer to know what a Napa Cab tasted like versus a Cab from anywhere else, but he also wanted to grow Chard and even Sauvignon (Fume) Blanc blah blah blah. This isn't as controversial today as it once was. And many places were too far in to back up and do it like the Americans. Most people don't know what's in a glass of Champagne, for example. And most mortals don't have the faculties to remember every Italian grape varietal.

Anyway, he changed the global landscape and language of wine. And you can buy entry to that rich history for little more than the change in your pocket, and if you want to fly first class, Mondavi's got you covered there too with much pricier options.

Lee's blog »
In 2008, I ran into Lee at the Claremont in Oakland, and he remembered me 10 years later.

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Last bit of Mondavi history I think is kind of important to mention:

A lot of people think of Robert Mondavi as a symbol of everything that's wrong with globalization, and they might be right. But I think it's much more interesting than just this current generation. Cesare Mondavi, the family patriarch, was an Italian immigrant who ran a fruit packing business that shipped grapes to the east coast during prohibition for illegal wine-making.

I don't think it's a stretch to say he was a mafioso bootlegger. Cesare was just really, really smart. He didn't run booze; he ran grapes. He put warnings on the grapes that essentially told people how not to make wine so that people could reverse the instructions and make wine at home. He dealt a lot with a company called Beringer in St Helena, CA, shipping "raisin cakes" and sacrament wine. Later he'd buy a vineyard named Charles Krug basically next door to Beringer, and plant the seed of global wine domination.

If they had been Irish instead of Italian, they'd probably have followed fellow-bootlegger Joe Kennedy into politics.

These powerful dynasties are not exclusively American, but the prohibition of alcohol certainly helped. I wonder what families we'll be talking about in 50 years who made their fortunes in the illegal drug trade.

Homophobia at Bulleit

WHY I DON'T BUY BULLEIT BOURBON ANYMORE

I was on the Bulleit train from almost the beginning. I love their rye and their bourbon and drank them often, as I'm addicted to Manhattans for half the year, and I don't mind a Boulevardier when I'm feeling saucy. But now I've officially disembarked.

For better or worse, America went with capitalism, and the only way for that to work is for consumers to vote for the world they want with their dollars.

That's why I'll never go to a Hobby Lobby and why I haven't drunk a drop of Bulleit Bourbon for almost six months now. 

The story goes that Tom Bulleit's daughter Hollis Bulleit made the brand the powerhouse it is through dogged ambassadorship but was pushed out when her sexual orientation became public. I guess it shouldn't surprise anyone that a Kentucky-based family's patriarch is a homophobe; homophobia and racism are rampant down south unfortunately. But I don't care that I'm not surprised, and I'm not going to support a brand that I know is anti-gay.

There are other great bourbons at the same price point anyway.

There's a Slate article about how family businesses are more susceptible to such problems. It makes me think of Marxist notions to abolish the family unit. I don't understand how people spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with racist/homophobic family members. If the world is going to be a better place tomorrow, eye-rolling isn't enough; pillory your grandparents if you have to.

Diageo owns Bulleit and Johnnie Walker and countless other brands. As a consumer, it's hard to pillory Diageo. Remember when Dove was running ads about all women being beautiful while Axe was running ads about all women being sex toys? Unilever owns both brands and didn't care how anyone felt about that if you kept buying their products. That's just how branding works and why Diageo is so powerful (and also dangerous).

For now I'm drinking Buffalo Trace and Gentleman Jack, owned by Sazerac and Brown-Forman, respectively, both of whom have probably had similar issues in their histories. . . but what else am I supposed to do?

---

When I was living in Virginia, my ex-in-laws were horribly racist, sexist, and homophobic. The father of the family would proudly declare himself one from time to time. When his daughter was dating a black dude Big Daddy announced his intention to "tie him to the back of his truck and drive down a dirt road." When his daughter pointed out that her father had expected her brother to marry a Chinese girl, he proclaimed "I'm a racist and a sexist."

When you talk like that you deserve to lose your brand—you're a nazi. Nazi's, contrary to Trump's view, are the enemy because they threaten peace and hinder progress toward equality.

My ex-wife often sided with her parents. That drove a rift in our relationship. It was the thing we fought about the most, and it eventually tore apart our marriage. I thought I had to tolerate it until we had the chance to move far away from her ancestral home. But when that became a real possibility, it became clear she would never be out from under their influence.

And I'll never take that train again.

Flaming Margarita

Working at abar means you get to try out some cool things you find on the internet. I found a flaming margarita on the web, and I just had to try it. Of course, legend has it that flaming drinks are against the law in Clark County (Las Vegas), so I can't serve these, but they're still pretty cool. 

I made a normal Cadillac and peeled the rind of a lemon and lime and poured 151 Cruzan Rum in there and lit it on fire. Don't put a straw in there, because you'll melt it!

This is something like 1.75 Azunia Reposado, .75 Triple Sec, fresh sweet & sour, and .5 - .75 Grand Marnier. I can't actually remember the exact measurements, but this isn't really a post about cadillac margaritas. It's about lighting shit on fire!

Also, I think it's ridiculous we aren't allowed to serve flaming drinks in Las Vegas. Plus, I keep looking for the law online and can't seem to find it. I don't actually believe it's illegal.

Dunk the fruit before you sip, and the rum gives the margarita a nice float of woody sweetness and fire. Not just something for the eyes, it really gives the drink a little something extra that I like.

I guess I could have used a high-gravity tequila, but I thought the rum would be a nice touch especially with the Grand Marnier float already in there. They mixed nicely, and I highly recommend this version for quiet nights with friends, far away from the long arm of the law.

Proof

I read a book called Proof: The Science of Booze. I happen to love science and drinks, so when I found out about it, I couldn't resist a trip to the library.

The book goes from yeast to fermentation, to distillation, to tasting and smelling, and ends with a hangover. Although, for some reason Adam Rogers refuses to use an article when writing "hangover," which made me wonder what the proper way of using that word really is.

It's a cleverly constructed project that somehow manages to spice up some pretty dry material with some pretty witty fun. It's like a conversation with your favorite nerd about everyone's favorite drug. Plus, there are Star Trek references.

Rogers travels the world with microbe hunters and yeast cultivators and booze hounds, which is one of my favorite things about the power of beverage: its ability to connect with people and places across time and space with the simplest of gestures. And I've said for some time that we are in the scientific era of beverage in which we'll eventually develop the ability to crack the magical codes of aging and the effects of every congener. So I loved this book.

The adventures of a scientific reporter are enviable, and I wish I knew Adam so that I could have a drink with him and nerd out about Single Malt Scotch and Romulan Ale.

Financial Wellness

I hate thinking about money. My way of money management has always been one of least resistance. Oh, there's some kind of savings plan through the company? Fine, take some of my paycheck. I can split up my direct deposit into a savings and checking account? Fine, take 40%. I'll spend the rest.

I'm great at spending money. I don't buy many things. I don't care about big TV's or new couches. I prefer the lending library to the personal one. I prefer the radio to the record collection. My zen-like approach to the corporeal comes from crossing continents and oceans, shuffling off worldly possessions like a molting crow. Vinyl and paper are just too heavy to lug around the world. Since I don't want much, I basically buy whatever I do want and if there's something left over in the end, great. If not, who cares? I'll make more money.

Student loans have essentially destroyed my credit. I never paid attention to my credit score, so I never did anything to combat the effect of my federal student loans. I went to buy a car a few weeks ago and learned my score for the first time in my life. Low. I still got the car I wanted, but only because I'm making pretty OK money these days.

My structural engineer is a financial genius. He chastised me for not being smarter about my money.

I've decided to take a more active role in my financial future. I downloaded a budgeting app, took the personal budget online course on MGM's M-Life Insider Education site, and I've been talking with experts.

Here are a few things I've learned about myself:

1. I spend more on alcohol and bars than any human ever should.
2. I spend less on clothing than anybody would ever guess.
3. If I spend only $200/month on alcohol and bars, I could pay off my student loans in just three years(!)
4. Investing in my 401(k) makes me feel a lot better about getting old.
5. With apps now, financial stuff can actually be fun.

I'm starting to look at this like a game. I always looked at it like a chore. If I'm clever, I might have a crazy credit score, own a cool condo, and have all my federal debt paid off soon. I never thought any of that possible.

I'm using Mint. Maybe you'd like it ↯
I like this article about how attracted people are to financial stability ↯
I'm looking forward to digging into this blog ↯

I Found 52 Bottles of Belle Epoque

My boss gave me our dead stock list and said, "see what you can do with this, bud." It was divided into liquor/beer/etc., and I went straight for wine. One of my favorite bottles of Champagne jumped out at me: Perrier-Jouët Belle Epoque. And you know what? 2004! 2004 was the first year they started painting the bottles since 1902!!!

I couldn't believe it. I wanted to just open a bottle and drink it. If this were my spot, I'd take one home and drink it alone and take pictures. I still got to taste it, and holy crap. It's 2015 now. So, it's about 10.5 years old, I'd say. That's about the perfect amount of age on a bottle of Champagne, and I have to say, this juice has done well. I mean, this is kept in MGM Grand's cooler, which is perfectly maintained.

Toasty almondy, appley gold, and just a touch of lees to make you know it's been done the old-fashioned way. This is an elegant lady the rougher beasts of this breathing world won't appreciate, but if you've got any finesse, any passing grace, you'll notice the subtle curves in her bubbly mouth. And the outside of the bottle is nice, too. It's hand-painted, designed by a famous Japanese artist, and inspired by Art Nouveau, which is one of my personal favorites when it comes to architecture and design.

Essentially, I found a treasure. I put it in the Mansion bar at MGM Grand a few days ago, and we've sold a couple bottles. I priced it at a seriously low cost because I was really excited about sharing it: $283. That's a steal... like, really.

Anyway, it's my dream that someone will come into the Mansion bar, find it through the high-roller casino, and ask for this very special bottle. Keep the bottle, take it home with you and put it on a shelf. It's special.

Check this out ↯

Ellis Island

Ellis Island is a brewery in Vegas, but who cares? They're not winning any awards any time soon; so what? They're selling their brews for $2.00, and some guy who sounds exactly like R. Kelly is on stage singing Karaoke.

A couple guys sit with me at the bar. They're in Vegas from Colorado to tell resorts if lightning would ever strike the hotel ten times all at once. "No. Well, maybe in ten thousand years. Mostly we tell them what'll happen when the biggest flood Vegas has ever seen comes around." They tell me which properties are safest when Noah's deluge comes round, but the conversation starts and ends with talk of zombie apocalypse. "But we're nice guys; we're not all doom and gloom."

One of the guys sings. it's almost closing time. The lady who sang Amy Winehouse perfectly when I first arrived can hardly stand on stage now. R. Kelly can't read the words on the teleprompter. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.

It's a great crowd. People carry crooners through the choruses, the Karaoke jockey cranks the back up vocals during the verses. There's no shame to be spotted. A group of black ladies gets up and tries to sing Pussy Cat Dolls.

Last call lumbers in like a Lazarus Bukowski because I thought this place was 24. Most of us shuffle out and find our way to the buffet, which is about to open. I make a quick lap of the casino instead and take in the decor and study their brewery through the glass for a few minutes. I've got to keep moving.

I've had a great time, but I'm in no mood to loiter in the light. There's entropy in the air, and I'm starting to think there's an apocalypse afoot. But isn't there always?

Atomic Cocktails

I was really excited about this one. One of the bartenders at Herbs & Rye suggested it as an after-hours spot (they're open until 4), and I love Herbs & Rye, so why wouldn't I love this suggestion?

I went to their website and read about how they found an old safe and how they totally retrofitted everything and how people used to watch the atomic testing from the roof. I was amped.

I walked from the top of Fremont and when I got past El Cortez, there was a fleeting moment when I thought maybe I'm getting too old to just be walking into bad parts of town, and I chuckled to myself. This isn't really the bad part of town, but it is very close, and I've seen worse. It does get darker quickly once you get past the Container Park, though. If I were smaller or a woman, I wouldn't want to walk it.

Once in the door I took in the atmosphere, which is a retro, low-light, very Vegas feel... still in love. I recognize the very bartender who recommended me come here sitting at the far end. I recognize a tourist I'd met the night before. I say hi to both. I sit down. A guy with a beard asks me what I want. Then everything kind of started sucking. I got into conversations with a couple people at the bar about cars, and that was cool, and there was a lady bartender there who seemed to be on her shit, but this bearded guy was far too douchey for the vibe at Atomic Cocktails. Dude rubbed me the wrong way.

I'm not the biggest stickler, especially in Vegas, especially after midnight. But this was my day off, so it was probably only around 7 or 8, and this place came pretty highly recommended. So, to have a douchey bartender is just unacceptable and puts a damper on what was otherwise a good beverage adventure. Plus, his cocktails sucked. I can drink a shitty cocktail from a friendly bartender or a great one from a dick hole, but when you're a prick serving me crappy cocktails, I'd rather just go to a local beer bar and save my money.

I'll probably go back some day and try not to sit in this guy's section because I really liked the feel of the room, but not for a bit. My days off are too few to be sold garbage drinks by a guy whose beard is his most interesting attribute.

The tourist and I went to Le Thai and Downtown Cocktail Room.

Aces & Ales

I heard Aces & Ales was one of the best craft beer bars in Las Vegas, so I went, and it's true.

It's got fire pits and great tables, it's really dark inside, and there are video poker games on the bar. They play good music, and the service is fantastic. Tons of TVs. Plus, free wifi so I could use Untappd to log all the beers I drank. Actually had to get a DD on this adventure because I planned on doing some serious drinking. It pays to have a cool friend who's Mormon (Thanks for driving, L).

The thing I liked most about this place was the staff. Two ladies were working the bar, and they were excellently friendly. I ordered the first couple beers on my own, but then I asked if there was something on the list I just had to try. She then revealed herself to be a wonderful guide and in possession of Cicerone-level beer knowledge. I love it when someone is really into what they do. You'd think that'd be an easy thing in beer, but a lot of times craft beer people can be snobby and aloof. Not at Aces & Ales; she was excited to share and happy to serve. When I got my bill I had to double check the prices because I thought it was light. But their pricing structure is very simple and cheaper than I expected, which is always nice.

Overall, a very pleasant experience. I can't wait to go back.

This was at the Tenaya location (there are two).

Tenaya Creek

I went to Tenaya Creek. It's the second oldest brewery in Las Vegas (15 years). They've won a couple medals at GABF, and it's clear why: their beer is pretty delicious. Their taproom had video poker at every stool, and everyone, patrons and service, was really friendly. I ended up getting in conversations with a few people and even a famous doctor who was in town on holiday.

  

Video poker installed at almost every seat, and they have pinball too. I put 50 cents in their Lord of the Rings machine and played for 40 minutes. I dug their wrought iron flight-holding thing that looked like a sculpture.

They've got a few flagships including a fantastic Brown (not too sweet, a little nutty) and a Pale Ale you could write home about if you wanted to make your mom happy--she doesn't hear from you enough! But they also had a bunch of seasonals that were really quite impressive in that there were five of them and they were all kind of epic. The seasonal that stood out for me was the DIPA and their Barley Wine.

 

Someone ordered a Cosmo, and I asked the bartender if they got much call for that sort of thing. She said a lot of people come for the atmosphere even if they aren't beer people, and I can see why: it's a really chill place with friendly locals. Who wouldn't like that?

BLVD Cocktail Company

I went out with a showgirl. The first time we went out, we met at the BLVD Cocktail Company. It was busy and loud, but actually a perfect place. I don't really like the LINQ very much, it reminds me too much of Downtown Disney or the Irvine Spectrum, but this place is worth checking out.

The reason I wanted to go out with this particular showgirl, despite my personal ban on all women who dance for a living, was the way she talked about Boulevardiers (there were tons of other things actually, but this was the thing that caught my attention and really won me over). And what better place to get a Boulevardier than BLVD? We showed up at 12:30 AM. Live music. Packed.

BLVD makes their Boulevardiers with a chocolate bitters that really rounds out the rye in a way that makes it sinfully delicious and smooth. Garnished with a cherry, it's a treat.

My first round was a Dry Manhattan made to perfection and served by a lovely model/cocktail waitress who was very attentive.

At one point, we had an uninvited guest. His name was Phil. I thought he was with my date at first, but it turned out he was just a passing reveler. He drunkenly complimented us, saying I have an awesome shirt and that we look like a great couple. Then he disappeared into the night, leaving a $10 beer on our tab. Our model/cocktail waitress happily deleted it.

I hope to visit this place again soon. 

I went on a second date with the showgirl. It was even better than the first. Then it fell apart. Personal ban: back on.

Liquid Nitrogen and Centrifuges

Liquid nitrogen is a toy I'd love to play with. I remember thinking it could freeze a person instantly like Sylvester Stalone and Wesley Snipes in Demolition Man. Now I want to chill glasses with it and make weird caviar things.

Maybe it's my love of science, maybe it's my love of good show, but I really want to have a go with it. What excitement people demonstrate when they see the explosion of gas or get super-cooled strawberries in their mouths and breath cold white smoke out their noses like dragons! And it happens to be useful.

I also want a centrifuge. I want to separate the solids out of juices and carbonate them in bottles. Once at Billy Sunday in Chicago I had a Fernet and Cola in a bottle that was made that way. I don't know if they used a centrifuge, but it was a perfect drink, and I think doing Gin and Tonics that way could be incredible. Also, punches might be interesting to serve in house bottles. ARGH! the possibilities are limitless.

If I get to manage a cocktail bar soon, or if I start my own speak easy up again, I'm going to get a centrifuge at the very least. I'd love to get a freezer cold enough for liquid nitro, but that might have to wait. They're a little expensive.

But the future of mixology is now!

Some of it's so old it's new again. Dave Arnold is also using hot pokers to burn up some hot cocktails the way they did in the olden days at his bar, Booker and Dax. I love this guy and what he's doing.

Here's a link to an article about some of the cooler cocktail bars I like out there »

The Dirty Martini

I've always enjoyed a Dirty Martini. It's one of my all-time favorite drinks. I fill a shaker with ice, pour in gin (usually Tanqueray), dash in just a bit of dry vermouth, and I give it a good dash of olive brine. I swirl the shaker, a compromise I settled on during a shaken-or-stirred discussion long ago. Then, I strain it in the art-deco ornament that is the towering, unwieldy cocktail glass. I throw two olives straight in, so they rest at the bottom.

Why dirty?
First, the saltiness is a reminder that this is an adult activity. This is not a saccharine sticky dessert. This is not a stash of candy to lure the unsuspecting tween. This is a true testament to alcohol and maturity. But that's not all. The olive juice can ruin the drink if you're not careful. A bartender can screw the whole pooch if he or she adds too much or too little. It's a challenge. Plus, you've got to have decent olives. No one wants nasty old stale olives.

But if you're making it yourself at home, what could be easier? Make it to your own taste and enjoy. If you're at a party, everyone will make it differently, which is kind of fun.

And there's something classy about this silver fox. It's one of the oldest cocktails, and all kinds of celebrities have uttered all sorts of wonderful quotes about it. If you like the Dirty Martini, you're in good company.

Here's a good short article I found about it »

Anyway, I've been drinking a lot of them lately.

It might be because I'm currently out of Fernet and the liquor store is sold out for now.

Starr Hill Logo Rework

Sometimes it's fun to take a logo and redesign it in such a way that takes the branding in a completely new direction. I spend a lot of time thinking about brewery logos and branding, and I started thinking about Starr Hill's logo. It's a giant star that looks like a sheriff's badge from the wild west. I like it. It's simple, bold, immediately recognizable. I'm not trying to "improve" anything (just as a disclaimer). I'm a fan who wants to reimagine the corporate identity of one of my favorite breweries.

Anyway, here's what I was thinking: Blue Ridge, nighttime music festivals, soothing, modern, and military.
The star always looks a bit military to me. I used a camouflage swatch set to come up with the color motif. I want more than one star to give us the idea of a good night and even a little magic (think a sorcerer's cap). I kept all caps on the logo for strength, but I used Helvetica to make it simply modern. I think it's a good contrast with the rounded corners of the bounding box. It makes the beer look accessible and easy. It's also fine when it goes black and white with a little help.

I worked the golden mean a bit more than I usually do on this one. Also, I wanted it to be reminiscent of patriotism. . . I'm kind of dancing with the military thing a bit.

Just to restate: I am not criticizing Starr Hill's logo in ANY WAY. Think of this like you would Twilight fan fiction. I'm just a fan having fun with design.

Highland Brewing Trip in Asheville

The first place I stopped when I got to Asheville was Table, where my good friend Connie Coady works as a manger. It's a great restaurant with great cocktails. I missed Connie Coady a lot. It is one of the great tragedies of living a peripatetic life that one rarely gets to spend time with the he people he loves. But it's also, then, even more wonderful seeing long-lost friends across chasms of time.

Minouche is kind of lady in charge over at Highland Brewing Company. She's a wonderful person who is a credit to the industry. She gave Connie Coady and me a tour of the brewery. We'll get to that later. First we tried a bunch of wonderful beer. I love this brewery. They're the best-selling craft beer in North Carolina, and I'd really like to see them do more up here in Virginia.

Asheville is filled with breweries. You can just wander around the town and find something cool to check out if beer is one of things you find cool, and why wouldn't you? Above is a picture of Lexington Avenue Brewery (LAB). LAB makes some good beers, but what I like about their brewery the most is their streetside outdoor eating area. I met some new friends out there, and they drove me to the next brewery--people are really nice in the south.

The next brewery we I went to was Asheville Brewing Company. They had a firkin going. I'm always trying to get more spots to do firkins. It is a one-of-a-kind beer every time, and it's the perfect reason for a person to go out and visit a bar or restaurant instead of sitting at home. If you're looking to give your guests a special experience and get more folks to pay attention to your beer program, talk to your vaeagle rep about firkins today!

Then a friend from Staunton, VA came to meet me there. Nuit is a person who's full of awesome energy, so she was up for continuing my adventure with me. . . after a few drinks, of course.

More beers need to get ninja.

After hitting a drum circle and a couple more breweries, we made it back to Table. We hung out with Coady's S.O., Alex Matisse, and he took a picture of me with his friends from Texas. Upstairs, there's a great cocktail bar. We closed the bar.

Ornate entrance to the brewery.

Taps at Highland.

Giant Papier Mâché Scottish Highland mascot.

Master brewer on a lift.

Even the coffee bars have craft draft in Asheville. Fantastic. I hate it when people tell me they don't have the space for draft beer. This is a tight space pictured, and it works fine.

A cup of coffee was the last thing I drank with Conn Coady and Alex Matisse. I wish it were in one of his incredible cups.

If you haven't been to Asheville yet, go. It's a lovely town filled with lovely people and lovely beer. There are great restaurants, cool bars, and even a store that only sells belt buckles. I bought one that says JACK because I was told that was a thing in the south back in the 70's or something.

I can't wait to go back.

Sweet Water Trip in Atlanta

For the first time in a very long time, I missed my flight. For the first time ever, I was one minute late to something. The plane was still there, but they wouldn't let me through. Charlottesville airport FAIL. But I didn't miss anything through a miracle twist of fate, someone was too drunk to get on a plane in Charlotte, so I slid on in their place and made it to Atlanta just as the taxi was leaving the hotel to the brewery.

And the luckiest guy in the world made it to the brewery as scheduled.

And the taps had me excited to be there. When you're at a brewery, there's a lot to discover.

The obligatory glass of beer shot. I needed the refreshing embrace of a crisp IPA after the stressful journey.

Special-release beers everyone can fall in love with. I'm a sucker for the good stuff available only in deuces.

The experimental "Dank Tank" is a brewer's playground. Incredible juice comes from this thing, and it's painted in a way that celebrates the ritual.

Sweet Water also hand-paints their Jockey Boxes, which I think is particularly cool.

The place is gigantic. at 450,000 BBL capacity, I was thoroughly impressed. I spend a lot of time in smaller breweries.

Drinking the beer that is being made right there. I always love that. 

Big bottling lines remind me of Laverne & Shirley.

I'd been keeping touch with Sweet Water online, so I had a friend there when I arrived: Brian the Social Media Director. Cool dude who was interesting to talk with, he gave me advice on where to get the most out of the Atlanta craft beer scene. 

The brewery filled up with people, and I made friends quickly. People in Atlanta are exceedingly friendly. Breweries are really great places to meet people.

I went to Sweet Water as a representative of Virginia Eagle Distributing. We're hoping to represent them in Virginia. To me, it'd be a privilege to share their brews with Virginians, and I'm really crossing my fingers.

I loved Atlanta, and I love this side of the business. I learned a ton on this trip from restaurant and bar owners and the awesome people at the brewery. And Atlanta is an open city if you're willing to throw yourself in. If my phone hadn't died, I would have kept taking pictures of my epic adventures, but people were calling me from the office to see how the meeting went. It went well. I would have a great time getting this beer into the mouths of Virginian beer-drinkers.

I didn't want to leave the city without drinking a Coca-Cola. The morning I left I woke up just in time to get to the airport, so it was a last-minute thing. The woman in line with me said she drank six a day. Atlantans love Coke.

If you go to Atlanta, make sure to try these places:

• Sweet Water Brewery Great Brewery with great people and great beer.
• Argosy Super chic craft beer bar and wood-fired pizza. Excellent.
• Midway Pub Tons of taps and laid back atmosphere. Serious dart players. 
• Church "A goddamn bar" with so much character you'll never want to leave. Educated doorman clued me in on some cool spots. Ping-pong upstairs and a nun hanging from the ceiling rotating in space to hit a ping-pong ball.
• Trader Vic's The last of the once-great empire of tiki bars on the east coast. I'm in love with Trader Vic's and will go to any one I can find. Inventors of the Mai-tai, but they also make delicious Suffering Bastards.