Highway 13 Revisited: Apple Season in the Apostle Islands

'Zat You?: A Portrait Amongst the Apples by Anna Morales

My restlessness often gets the best of me in the fall. The leaves are changing, the air’s getting colder, something on the wind is gently whispering, “Get the hell out of here or forever hold your peace (at least until six months from now when you finally thaw out of the ground again).”

So Anna and I took a few days off and headed up to the peak of the Wisconsin mitten. If you need a demonstration of said mitten, ask a Wisconsinite where they live, they will hold up their hand like a mitten. Green Bay is in the crook of the thumb and Minneapolis is just off the third knuckle of the pinkie. Up just past the ring finger are the Apostle Islands, a group of 22 picturesque islands, dotted with sea caves, jutting into the largest freshwater lake in the world, Lake Superior.

We took off after work on Friday, stopping at the Farm in Hayward (I’m an honorary ‘Sconnie since I married into about 40 acres just outside of the Muskie capital of Wisconsin and therefore, arguably, the world) to drop off our dog, Joon, with Anna’s parents. After a short trip up 63 and a quick jump on 2 we reached one of my favorite of Wisconsin’s scenic byways, beginning at Ashland’s Lakeshore Drive and becoming Highway 13.

Highway 13 runs up to Bayfield and around the tip of Superior’s south shore and is chock full of scenic overlooks, campsites, state parks and farms selling everything from homemade goat cheese to apple cider doughnuts. Here are a few of my favorite things (in no particular order) that we came across this time on our trip up Highway 13:

1. Bayfield Harbor – One of the most popular mooring points for boats on the South Shore, Bayfield harbor faces east toward Madeline Island and is a great place to hang out, catch some brilliant colors of the sunset and see some truly gorgeous, vintage sailboats.

2. Whitefish Livers and Brandy Old Fashioneds at Maggie’s – Whitefish livers, breaded and fried. Yeah I said it. They’re delicious. I also gained new appreciation for the timeless Wisconsin cocktail, the brandy Old Fashioned, sweet. A friend of mine commented that her mother once ordered a brandy Old Fashioned, sweet at a bar in Seattle and the waiter returned and asked her what part of Wisconsin she was from. Classic!

3. Meyers Beach and Sea Caves – This was a new one for us. We decided to head over to Meyers Beach, almost on the other side of the point of the mitten, near Cornucopia, Wisconsin. Anticipating a fairly short hike, Anna and I soon found ourselves on a moderately strenuous one that was quite worth the walk once we reached some of the most incredible sea caves we’d ever seen. A hidden gem, for sure.

4. Lunch on the Terrace of Blue Vista Farm – Blue Vista is known for their Wisconsin Heritage Site stone farmhouse that has been lovingly restored over the past few decades, their garden of plants that promote healthy apiculture and their delicious blueberries, raspberries, apples and other manner of incredible, homegrown organic fruits. We spent about an hour hanging out on the terrace outside of the farmhouse and having some incredible blueberry preserves and blueberry apple cider from their farm.

5. Raspberry Peach Pie from Egg Toss – Fruit pies are a big thing in our family. My wife is, in fact, in the process of making an apple pie as I write this. So when Anna waxes rhapsodic about the raspberry-peach pie from Egg Toss, you know it’s good.

6. Apple Picking and Apple Cider Doughnuts from Erickson Orchards – It’s apple season on the South Shore. Next week thousands of people will flock to Bayfield to pick apples, drink cider, eat pie and participate in all of the nonsense that happens when thousands of people descend on a town of 600 (getting drunk on Miller Lite, eating funnel cakes from food trucks, etc.) Anna and I beat the rush and hit up Erickson Orchards for a couple bags full of fresh-picked apples and some of their famous apple cider doughnuts. We decided to just buy one doughnut and ended up buying six. They are amazing.

7. The Madeline Island Ferry and Rock Hopping in Big Bay State Park – The last time we were up on the South Shore, Anna and I spent most of our time on Madeline Island, the largest of the Apostle Islands and the only one with paved roads. The Madeline Island Ferry Line (or MIFL if you want to go there, which I do) will take you, your car and apparently most other things across on a bumpy 20-minute ride across the bay to La Pointe, a town of a couple hundred permanent residents on Madeline Island. It’s a fun way to get out on the open water and also get yourself, your car and all of your camping gear over to Big Bay State Park. Once in Big Bay you can either go up the Point Trail which is on the windward side of the island and has some really incredible sea caves and promontories or take the Bay View trail down the leeward side of the island and come across some beautiful stone and sand beaches.

8. Chequamegon Books in Washburn – I’m a big fan of used bookstores. Myopic in Chicago, Magers & Quinn in Minneapolis, the Red Wheelbarrow in Paris (RIP). So it was surprising to find such a great used bookstore in the small town of Washburn, Wisconsin. To me, a great used bookstore should be stacked high with all manner of hardcover and paperback that lets you get lost among the shelves. Situated in an old brownstone building on the main street of Washburn, Chequamegon Books has just the right feel of book-lined austerity, complete with two of those sliding ladders, and also of a place where used books are both bought and sold (we stopped at another bookstore in Bayfield where they were selling used paperbacks for $22, give me a break!). I always come out of Chequamegon Books with my arms full of books I never knew existed.

9. Houghton Falls – I’m reluctant to talk about Houghton Falls because I want to keep it for myself. It’s a little over a half mile toward the coast from Highway 13, but this little nature walk ends in one of the most incredible scenes I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s hard to explain, but if you go off the beaten path a little ways you will come across scenery that looks as though it is straight out of a fantasy novel.

10. Sandwiches at Coco – We always try to stop at Coco on our way back from the South Shore. They make great baked goods, brew great coffee and have a dedication to doing things the right way. We picked up some sandwiches on the way home and ate them at the campsite just north of Washburn. Anna got a trout reuben (yes, trout) and I got a smoked turkey and pickled apple sandwich. They were both incredible. Also, remember that guy who floated with his dog in Superior because the dog had arthritis? Well we saw that guy in Coco. Bonus.

*If you want to read more about the Brandy Old Fashioned, Jeffrey Morganthaler has a great article on the merits of the Wisconsin classic.

Roatan Retreat: Barefoot Cay

We had a rocky landing in Roatan. A cold front had come down from the States and whipped off the coast of Honduras, creating some rough turbulence for our little plane. For some reason, whenever I travel by plane these days I bring along some kind of media about aviation disasters. Last year, when we went to California, I was working on transcription for Sole Survivor. I was working on subtitles for Sole Survivor again when I flew to Chicago. This year I was reading a passage in Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s “Wind, Sand and Stars” about a pilot crashing his plane in the Andes. So far these stories of catastrophe in the air haven’t proven to echo into my life, thankfully. Makes me wonder about my subconscious, sometimes, though.

Our first stop was at Barefoot Cay, a resort on the landward side of the island near French Harbor. Due to a strange layover situation necessitating an overnight stay in Cleveland, Ohio, Anna and I had completely missed breakfast. By the time we reached Barefoot Cay we were famished. Luckily, the kitchen at BFC is open almost all day. But resort food? Yuck. It’s generally the most of tasteless, bland crap that they can get away with, seeing as how you’re already roped in to staying there.

Barefoot Cay, however, is different. They’re not particularly fancy or imaginative, but what they lack in creativity they more than make up for in technical skill. For instance, I had a chicken wrap for lunch. It was the best damn chicken wrap I have ever had in my life. The chicken itself was cooked to perfection, moist on the inside and lightly charred on the outside, the lettuce was fresh and crisp and there was just a hint of gorgonzola sauce drizzled throughout. For lack of trying, I never thought I would categorically announce the best chicken wrap of my life, yet here I am.

Simple, well-executed meals abound on their menu. This morning we had a ranchero breakfast. Succulent beef tenderloin, eggs cooked to perfection (I asked for over-medium, one of the most notoriously difficult egg temps to nail, their cook hit it right on the head) homemade tortillas and a savory ranchero sauce without too much heat on it.

I’ve overheard other travelers say that the food at Barefoot Cay is the best on Roatan. I’m inclined to believe them, but that’s not going to stop me from doing more research.

Loop, The Loop: Downtown Chicago

A few months ago I went on a business trip to Chicago to tighten up the subtitles on a film called Sole Survivor, whose immanent debut I am anxiously awaiting. While waiting at the gate at MSP International I mused in a notebook about the hustle and bustle of Chicago. It's always been one of my favorite cities in the world and is home to some of my favorite bars like Weeds, the Skylark and the Old Town Alehouse. Despite all the time I've spent haunting the dives of Chicago, the Loop has generally eluded me. Gastronomically it's a mix of high-concept restaurants whose chefs have put a lot of time into the philosophy of food and chop shop chicken shacks and burger joints. The former is generally too expensive for me, the latter has yet to show up on my radar although I have still yet to try Rick Bayless' downtown taqueria, Xoco, which remains near the top of my list.

While working at Foundation Content in downtown, however, I spotted a fairly interesting looking place called Sayat Nova, which promised Armenian cuisine. Before I could check it out, though, I was whisked away by Maison's resident mezcal maniac, Liz Pearce, who brought me to a bartending competition featuring free Casa Nobles tequila. Needless to say, all memory of Sayat Nova went out the window. 

Several days ago, Anna and I were in Chicago for a party celebrating the engagement of two of our very dear friends. Finding ourselves hungry and with a distinct lack of free tequila, we took a walk down Michigan avenue to Sayat Nova. 

We were looking for a nice, quiet spot for dinner on a monday night and in that respect Sayat Nova delivered. We got an intimate little booth (all of their booths are in little alcoves carved into the wall) and when we arrived we were almost the only customers save for a long table of positively demure professor-types. For those of you who read this regularly, it will come as no surprise that I had to order the Armenian Sazerac which is pretty true to the original, but the rinse replaces absinthe with an Armenian anisette called arak (why they didn't just call it the Sazarak, I'm not sure) which is lighter than absinthe and gave the sazerac a nice, mellow balance. 

The food was decent, although I was expecting a more middle-eastern tinge to the food. It was very similar to Turkish cuisine: kebabs, baba ghanouj, koefta and lots of lamb. Nothing really stuck out as over-the-top amazing, though, maybe with the exception of the chicken kebabs which were seasoned and grilled to perfection. 

All in all it was a pleasant if slightly underwhelming dining experience topped with a decent cocktail and a lovely walk back to the hotel. Consider my curiosity sated.

Sayat Nova
157 E. Ohio St
Chicago, IL

The Birthday and the Boar

Well, it's happened. Another year down the drain and nothing to show for it but a few fantastic meals, some good stories to tell around the campfire, a wedding and a couple more miles on the odometer. Not bad for a ne'er-do-well such as yours truly. So what should we do to celebrate such a momentous occasion as the anniversary of my glorious introduction to this earth? Some do it with cake, some with skydiving, me, I prefer to do it the old fashioned way, with whiskey and egregious amounts of meat.

Luckily for me, my better half knows when to indulge me. No I am not referring to spending a night home alone eating microwaved hotdogs and drinking Jameson out of the bottle, my lovely and talented wife managed to secure us a table for two at that garden of Earthly delights residing in an unassuming storefront on Hennepin avenue, the Butcher and the Boar.

One thing I look to when giving my own personal snap judgement of a restaurant is their bar. A bar can give you insight into everything from the philosophy of the restaurant to the type of experience you can expect to have. Butcher and the Boar's is certainly a statement. Two tenders behind a dark wooden bar packed top to bottom with rye and bourbon divided by a fairly impressive local, craft tap line. To me this says two things. The breadth of whiskey represented evinces a desire to discover and deliver the best of this specific niche, the locally sourced brews show care for the source, the origins of what they serve. So far, color me impressed.

Then we see the menus. There are almost too many menus at Butcher and the Boar. One for the whiskey, one for the wine, one for the entrees and one for the...well, you know how it goes. It was almost difficult to manage so many menus at once, but Anna and I managed to wrangle them to the point where we were able to order a couple drinks. She ordered a sazerac and I ordered a Basil* Hayden's neat. I was nonplussed by the sazerac which seemed like lazy lip-service to a classic cocktail, however it's pretty hard to screw up high-rye bourbon in a glass which I enjoyed immensely. 

We ordered grilled oysters which were immaculately prepared, followed by fried green tomatoes and smoked olives (which included pickled caper berries and garlic) nice, delicate, smoky with a nice vinegar bite. 

The trouble with a la carte menus is that I could order sides all night long, fortunately our server prompted me to order an entree. I opted for the pork chop which I found out was actually the size of a small child. Immaculately cooked with sour cherries and pecan relish, this double-cut chop could feed an entire village of petits gourmands for several days and, indeed, lasted at our household longer than most delicious cuts of meat make it despite the best efforts of my midnight snacks and lunchtime refrigerator sorties. 

So is Butcher and the Boar worth the hype? They clearly think deeply about what they are serving and why. If they continue on this path, you can expect more great things from this shop, there are a few edges that need polishing but by-and-large the Butcher and the Boar gets my wholehearted seal of approval, not simply for catering to my specific love for earthy brown liquor and cooked meats, but for their philosophical interaction with the food and drink that they serve. Cogito ergo eo e bibo.

This picture does not do justice to how enormous that pork chop was. If I would have fought this pork chop it would have won...

*Pronounced "baw-sil" not "bay-sil" Hayden, for all of you out there in TV-Land who are keeping score, thanks to the effluvious Matt Smith for the professorial pronunciation participation.

Butcher and the Boar
1121 Hennepin Ave
Minneapolis, MN

Pastie Pastorale - Randall Bakery - Wakefield, MI

Autumn is one of my favorite seasons. The leaves turn and fall to the ground, scarves and jackets come out, Nick Drake and Tom Waits are almost always appropriate for road trips and hearty food abounds to ward off the chill in the air. Recently, Anna and I were driving through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (whose denizens, the Yoopers, have given it the somewhat unfortunate portmanteau of "The Yoo-Pee") where we stopped in the small town of Wakefield where, at her insistence, we went to the Randall Bakery for pasties.

Yep. Pasties. Pronounced "paw-steez" not "pay-steez" the latter being what strippers use to cover their unmentionables in more prudish establishments, the former being a delicious type of meat pie perfect for a chilly October day.

A pastie is a Cornish pastry dish filled with  diced beef, onions, potatoes and rutabaga in a pastry shell that should be, "hearty enough to survive a drop down a mineshaft." In other words, ideal fortification for outdoor activity in a convenient, handheld package.

I've had pasties once or twice before. There's a food truck in Minneapolis called Potter's Pasties that does an updated version of the pastie with all kinds of different meat replacing the traditional beef (Jamaican jerk chicken, mmm) and The Anchor which is one of my favorite restaurants in Northeast Minneapolis does a pastie with pork and curry that, while good, in no way approaches their perfect fish and chips. This pastie, however, was different.

While the other pasties I've had concentrated on building a better mousetrap, Randall Bakery has been making pasties the same way for well over half a century. It's not light or flaky, it's real, hard working food. It weighs as much as a brick and sticks to your ribs, fuel to keep the fires lit. In other words, it's delicious.

If you're ever on your way east through the Upper Peninsula to spend a few days in the Porcupine mountains (and might I recommend the Escarpment trail if you do) Randall Bakery in Wakefield will have a nice, hot pastie waiting for you.

Randall Bakery
505 Sunday Lake Street

Wakefield, MI

Sazerac Solitaire: Eat Street Social

So in my previous post I got too sidetracked by the origins of the Sazerac to describe my Sazerac experience at Eat Street Social. Since we here at Vagabond Appetite are nothing if not desirous of an experiential analysis of a culinary or mixological (just made that one up) affair, I am going to devote this whole post to Eat Street Social and their delicious take on the Sazerac.

As I had previously mentioned in my previous post, I visited Eat Street Social after a long day of Art-A-Whirling last week and it was devilishly muggy outside. Let me mention first that this was my third attempt at going to ESS, the first two having been foiled by their complete lack of signage which I totally appreciate, but made it especially difficult to locate from the street. Despite this fact, they were packed, clearly others were much more astute than I.

One thing I like to see when I walk in the door of a new restaurant is a staff that is methodically hauling ass. Especially behind the bar, and ESS features a pretty incredible bar, the bartenders were obviously old hands at efficiently moving at top speed. To me this implies a healthy respect for the craft of bartending itself which is not only mixology, but also customer service, both from the tender's perspective and keeping the server well up to date.

The bar itself is enormous, taking up a good third of the front room, it dominates the initial view of the restaurant which must be on purpose. It's got about 25, 30 seats and at least 3 bartenders behind it, one of whom, from what I saw, only worked the craft well, which is pretty amazing.

As there were five of us, we snagged a booth on the north side of the barroom where we could see most of the action, but also had enough privacy from the high-backed booths that we didn't feel as though we were completely out in the open. The vibe was a wide-open take on Speakeasy Nouveau. Intimate but busy. Where nobody knows your name unless you want them to.

And the Sazerac. It diverges just barely from the classic recipe, replacing the sugar cube with fennel pollen syrup. I tend to shy away from using simple syrups in drinks that are not served on the rocks, it can thicken the drink to a point where it resembles, well, syrup. That combined with absinthe can give a Sazerac an almost Robitussin-y feel. I hope I don't need to explain to you that Robitussin-y should be avoided at all costs. However, as I had mentioned before, the guys at ESS are pros and they did not disappoint here. The drink was very well balanced, just a hint of anise, Bulleitt Rye, served extra cold.

They even went so far as to deliver half of the drink in a separate vessel so that it would remain cold while I drank the first half. Now that's thinking. My only gripe with the Fennel Pollen Sazerac lies in the name. If fennel pollen is going to be your opening drink descriptor, you'd imagine that there would be some kind of fennel flavor to the drink, or perhaps I don't know what fennel pollen tastes like. Unless it tastes like the other ingredients in a Sazerac, however, it wasn't able to make its presence known in my drink. What I had at Eat Street Social was a well made Sazerac without any bells and whistles, which suits me just fine.


Eat Street Social
18 W. 26th Street
Minneapolis

Sazerac Solitaire

Friday night I finally made my way to Eat Street Social after a long day of Art-A-Whirl-ing in the muggy 90 degree heat of Northeast. I arrived, as is my wont, thirsty. After hearing from many sources that ESS' craft cocktail menu was a force to be reckoned with, I was not disappointed with my options.

While I am not opposed to any particular kinds of alcohol I definitely tend to immediately go for the whiskey cocktails. ESS' menu shares my proclivities and has four or five whiskey cocktails to choose from. My problem, then, was finding a whiskey cocktail that would at once be savory while still refreshing in the swampy 9 o'clock heat. What better, then, to fight off the sweaty bayou blues than the official cocktail of New Orleans?

The Sazerac, one of the oldest known cocktails, gets its name from the original type of brandy which was used in the cocktail, Sazerac-de-Forge et Fils. In 1838, a creole apothecary named Antoine Amedie Peychaud created a specific brand of toddy using Sazerac-de-Forge et Fils brandy and his family's own special bitters recipe. Fifty years later, the Sazerac was immensely popular in Louisiana and throughout the south, two notable changes happened to the official recipe, transforming it into the cocktail we drink today. First the base liquor was changed from brandy to Kentucky rye bourbon, giving the cocktail a slightly more aggressive and alcoholic flavor. Second, an absinthe (or similar anisette flavored liqueur, such as the New Orleans based Herbesainte) rinse of the glass gave the cocktail a slight licorice nose which, in my opinion, is what makes this drink so refreshing.

So what's the main idea behind a Sazerac, you may ask? There are several components to the drink, all of which are essential. The drink requires two glasses, one empty and one filled to the brim with ice. Set the glass of ice aside, I will even put the glass of ice in the freezer to get it nice and cold. Next, take a sugar cube (white sugar is just fine) and add several dashes of Peychaud's Bitters to the cube. Bitters bottles are usually outfitted with an inset pour regulator so just give it a good two or three shakes. Then crush the bitters soaked sugarcube, I usually use my muddler, but you should be able to use the back of a spoon to similar effect. Add 1 1/2 oz of rye whiskey on top of the bitters and crushed sugar, stir. Here's where it gets kind of tricky. If you've been keeping your other glass in the freezer, transfer the ice into the glass with the bourbon and bitters mixture and quickly coat the inside of the freezer glass with absinthe. The idea here is to make the cocktail cold without letting any of the ice actually melt into the drink, diluting the cocktail. I find that doing a quick swirl around the inside of the glass and pouring out the remaining absinthe (I like to save mine in a separate glass for later, but the point is you should only have a light coating of absinthe on the inside of your chilled glass) gives me enough time to give the cocktail a quick stir with a bar spoon, just one or two will suffice. Strain your mixture into the chilled, absinthe rinsed glass et voila! Sazerac time!

And here's the proportions:
1 1/2 oz rye bourbon
3 dashes Peychaud's Bitters
one sugar cube
1/2 oz absinthe

Just to get you in the mood for Sazeracs, some turn of the century Bechet:

Sonora Grill

It's been a while since I've been to a restaurant that really knocked me out. Enter 112 Eatery's slinger of drinks, Ben Wright, who dragged me to Midtown Global Market for lunch last week for some South American fare that was truly above and beyond.

Sonora Grill is the brainchild of Alejandro Castillon who cut his teeth at the formidable Bar La Grassa. Now running the show at Sonora Grill, Castillon and crew serve up mouth-watering lunch fare at a modest price.

I had the turkey chorizo (!) bocadillo, a Latin-tinged barbecue style sandwich, piled high with smoky, tender meat and capped with sauteed onions. As a connoisseur of most things meat and sandwich related, the bocadillo is right in my wheelhouse.

I also picked up a couple carmelos which are small, cheap tacos that still pack a flavorful punch. At just 2.50, you can afford to supplement your lunchtime decadence with some skirt steak, pork guajillo or 12 hour roasted lengua (mmm, lengua) without breaking the bank.

All in all, I left Sonora Grill adequately stuffed for just about 10 bucks. Not bad for a weekday lunch.

One thing that I (amazingly) managed to resist, but for which I am bound to return, is their home made, bacon wrapped hot dog. How I was able to convince myself to save this experience for another day is a mystery for the ages. Rest assured, I will be back. Oh yes, I will be back.

Sonora Grill
Midtown Global Market
920 E. Lake
Minneapolis

Himalayan Restaurant: Sher-pa Be Delicious

Wind whipped around my head as I pushed through the door. The small room was decorated with prayer flags and statues of unfamiliar deities. A small man approached me and bade me sit down as delicate harp music soothed my aching bones. Base camp was far away and the rarefied air still burned in my lungs.

Okay, kidding.

There was a small man, and there was also some harp music and prayer flags. And in my defense, it was raining yesterday. However, Himalayan Restaurant is not quite the Shangri-La I was describing just now.

It is, however, a delicious and affordable spot to grab lunch.

Nestled on the east end of Franklin Avenue in the Seward neighborhood, Himalayan Restaurant dishes out delicious Nepalese cuisine from a seriously unassuming spot.

Nepalese cuisine is a mixture of Indian, Chinese and IndoChinese cuisine with everything from tandoori to fried rice. Plenty of spice, lots of veggies and tons of curry. How can you go wrong?

Still have yet to get my lunch buffet on at Himalayan Restaurant but if it's anything like the entrees I am sold.

Buffet is 8 bucks, entrees around $11 for a pretty huge meal (I actually got an entire meal out of my leftovers) and decently priced appetizers make for an affordable and delicious experience.

Also, they have yak. So if you've never had yak and are curious about ingesting exotic animals from around the globe, Himalayan Restaurant is the spot.

TOURING BANDS: If you're playing on the West Bank (Triple Rock, Cabooze, Nomad, Acadia, god forbid Whiskey Junction) it's an easy walk to Himalayan Restaurant although you probably want to get it out of the way before you play as the neighborhood gets a bit sketchy at night.

Himalayan Restaurant
2401 E Franklin Avenue
Minneapolis, MN

The Oh-God-Summer-Is-Over Patio List

Oh God! Summer is almost over! Where did it go? We never went camping, fishing, tubing or anything fun! All we did was worked and sat around in our air conditioned apartments re-watching Quantum Leap (did you know that they have like five seasons on Netflix?)!

Fear not, dear readers. Summer has not quite yet escaped our grasp, but it slips, like sand through the hourglass, through our tightly clenched little fingers. In an attempt to prolong summer’s glory I have been eating outdoors whenever possible. Here are my favorite places for outdoor chow time.

Top Outdoor Patios (Food)
Target Field
What would summer be without baseball? Hotdogs, beer, peanuts and crackerjacks. When the Twinnies are on a winning streak at Target Field you’d be hard pressed to find a better spot to grab a dog and a brew and watch the action. Good people watching, good baseball and stadium food, if the price tag for admission weren’t so high I’d be there every night!

Grumpy’s Downtown
My favorite spot to hit after the game for a drink and some company, Grumpy’s Downtown sports a sizeable patio, a great Greasy Spoon menu served til 11pm and appetizers until 1am in case of extra innings. Also a great place to drink beer before a day game and feel right at home with everyone else who is drinking at noon on a Wednesday!

Common Roots
One of the most charming patios on the list, Common Roots boasts an ever changing menu of locally grown delights, many of which are harvested from a garden in the back yard. With a couple local brews on tap as well as fresh brewed Peace Coffee all day, Common Roots is one of my favorite places to grab lunch or dinner in Uptown.

Victor’s 1959 Revolutionary Café
Viva Cuba! Although Cuba is far, far away, Victor’s is a great place to catch a few rays and pretend that it’s not going to be negative twenty degrees in a few short months. Whenever I can rouse myself early enough (read: when I end up passing out somewhere in Uptown) I like to catch Victor’s early morning happy hour 8-10:30AM on weekdays and grab myself a mimosa and some yucca fries out on their cozy little patio.

Bryant Lake Bowl
Whenever I find myself in Uptown I quite frequently end up at the BLB. Happy hour apps are a must (mock duck spring rolls, mmmm) and the beer selection is unparalleled in that part of town. Although a new law requires you to actually be sitting down while you drink your beer on one of the narrowest patios I’ve ever seen, BLB’s outdoor seating is some of the best people watching in town. Watch hipster moms try to wrangle fixed gear strollers down Lake street and see how many prostitutes they have to avoid! Ten points!

Barrio/Local
Squeezed in right next to eachother on Nicollet Mall, the patios at Barrio and the Local are no-brainers for this list. The Local’s patio is always hopping yet one seems to always be able to find a seat. Barrio’s shoulder-to-shoulder vibe gives the impression of knocking back tequilas in a cramped bar in Oaxaca. Small plates at both places are the way to go. Try the chicken shots at the Local and the Beef Tenderloin Anticuchos at Barrio while you watch the suits scurry home.

Psycho Suzi’s
In my neck of the woods when you think “food” and you think “patio” one name springs to mind, “Psycho Suzi’s.” With a big ol’ fenced in patio, drinks in tiki mugs and a pizza menu as long as Johnny the Shark’s rap sheet, this kitschy, rockabilly themed joint has a lot going for it in the outdoors department. Bonus points for attractive, tattooed staff and clientele.

Bulldog NE
Late night happy hours, tater tots and truffle oil, oh my! Northeast’s premier burger joint has a decent sized patio, cheap appetizers at night and just so happens to be on my way home. Do I spend a lot of time on this patio? You betcha! Grab a Tilburg on tap and sit yourself down with a basket of tots and try to imagine winter, I dare you.

Pracna/Vic’s
Probably the fanciest and/or schmantziest patio on the list, Pracna affords a great view of the Mississippi and her bridges. Bring a date and a full wallet and you just might get lucky, son. If Pracna’s patio is full slip over to Vic’s just down the block and catch a great deal on some wine.

Brasa
Voted number one by my readers and friends, Brasa may not have the best view, but they arguably have the best food. If you’re not hip to the Brasa vibe it’s all South American home cookin’. The patio fills up quick but the garage door windows open up and even if you’re sitting inside you’re basically outside. The cornbread is a must, but really, you can’t go wrong with that menu.

Mill City Café
Probably the most idyllic patio on the list, the Mill City Café is tucked away up here in Nordeast in the California building. It’s a great place to take a date or just to rub elbows with the obscure and artsy but don’t show up too late as MCC is only open for breakfast and lunch. Good food, great ambiance and Mill City holds the distinction of being the only two-tiered patio on the list! Yeah!

Honorable Mention:
Uptown Bar
You will be missed, old friend. When I lived on the south side of town the Uptown Bar was my stomping ground. You can’t beat big ass bloody marys, beautiful people and crazy bums mingling in the street and a hamburger that would make your arteries slam shut in fear. Hopefully the New Uptown Bar can hold on to some of that magic for us.

Iron City Eats: Primanti Brothers, Pittsburgh, PA

I woke up feeling great on Thursday morning. The birds were chirping, sun was shining and far off in the distance, a lone jackhammer hummed into the concrete. I was in Steven’s Point, Wisconsin, more specifically on the front porch of a house, in an inflatable rubber raft.

It was surprisingly comfortable.

Several hours later myself and the boys from Battlefields (in my opinion the best doom/prog metal in the Midwest, hands down) arrived in Pittsburgh, sans inflatable raft.

I’d been in Pittsburgh once before, although my only food related experience was witnessing an argument in front of a place called “Tony’s Pizza” in which a man dressed in stereotypical pizza-cook garb (I’m assuming this was Tony, although I have no proof) berated a guy with a long ponytail, bedecked from head to toe in Pittsburgh Steelers paraphernalia.

This time, however, I arrived with my appetite in tact. We leisurely strolled down Penn Avenue past block upon block of empty warehouses until suddenly we came upon a big neon sign reading: “Primanti Brothers”.

We were completely unprepared for the sandwiches we were about to receive. An old, grumpy Pittsburgher in a paper hat appeared, inquiring lackadaisically if we wanted a “sammidge”* before sloughing off to bring us some bottles of Iron City lager. Though tempted by the “Colossal Fish” sandwich and their “#2 Seller” the cheese steak sandwich**, I ordered the capicola. I have never been more pleased with a decision not to order a sandwich with “colossal” in the name.

Stacked high with big slices of meat, a pile of coleslaw and an armload of homemade fries, my sandwich bore a closer resemblance to a freight car from Pittsburgh’s stockyards than to a sandwich. It was heavenly.

Primanti Brothers began serving up sandwiches for iron workers with powerful appetites during the Depression and have continued their tradition of quick and hearty meals ever since. If you’re ever in Pittsburgh, I recommend you get yez down to Primanti and get yez a sammidge an’at.



*I discovered, through my research, that “Pittsburghese” is an actual linguistic dialect with its very own wikipedia page.

**I wondered aloud what the #1 seller was at Primanti Bros., our waiter hollered from across the room, “Iron City Beer!”

Allons Enfants de la Patrie: La Jour De Gloire in the land of 10,000 Lakes

*VS.



Those of you who know me can attest to my crushing if not frequently thoroughly embarrassing Francophilia. I have drunk cheap wine on the Champ de Mars, a Gaulois lit between my lips, "Du Côté de Chez Swann" under my arm, swinging a baguette and leering heartily from behind a lusty moustache. Stripy shirt and flatulent bulldog and all.

So what's a pauvre grenouille like myself supposed to do stranded in the middle of America when the quatorze juillet arrives?

Do I make a replica guillotine, re-enacting my own Terreur on some watermelons dressed like Marie-Antoinette? Or perhaps I should put some Piaf on the stereo and quote loudly from Rousseau's "Contrat Social"?

Nay, gentle reader, as I write this I am listening to "The Stroke" by Billy Squier, eating a mediocre bacon cheeseburger, drinking Budweiser and watching the MLB Allstar game at a bar which seemingly exists for no other reason than it happens to reside at the intersection of two county highways.

Vacantly staring from the northeast corner of the intersection of Becker County highways 6 and 11 "The Pit" occupies a bizarre section of highway which is pretty damn close to the middle of nowhere (the Pit claims to be in Audobon, Minnesota which takes up about 45 seconds of your time on highway 10 on the way to Detroit Lakes, although it is a good four miles from the Audobon, Minnesota I know with a lot of blank space in between) and also boasts two houses and, you guessed it, a church.

The Pit is not a great bar. Hell, it is not even a good bar, but it has beer and baseball, and sometimes that's enough...

Well, not really, however the bar that I wasgoing to go to was struck by lightning this afternoon and none of its TVs were working when the game started.

So the Pit may not bee a great bar. Hell, it's not even a good bar. But it has beer, burgers, baseball and happened to not get struck by lightning on Bastille Day and that's what I call the four Bs of good livin on a Tuesday afternoon.

Aux Armes Et Cetera mes enfants!


*Many thanks to my friend Benjamin Moses Smith for the gracious use of his visage as well as the other dude whose name I forget.

Apologia

Hey Friends,

Sorry I've been conspicuously absent from VA for a while. Busy, busy, busy! I am going to be doing a set of reviews coming up in the next week though! So keep your eyes peeled and your hands on the wheel!

Cheers,
Bryce

It's Always 11:45 PM in Chicago: The Skylark

Skylark Bartender Nick who not only looks as though he should work in a boxing gym in the 40s, but also recently played one on stage. Nice moustache, Nick.

If ever there was a bar that made me want to spiral off into a Bukowskian barfly bender, slouched in the corner writing poems about flies, making derogatory comments about women and attractive people and drinking cheap whiskey, the Skylark is it. It’s not that the Skylark is covered in dirt and grime, or packed with bar sluts and Johnny Ginblossoms, it’s simply the atmosphere. It's always 11:45pm in the Skylark. Were Chicago a city that still allowed smoking, the Skylark would be in a perpetual fog of nostalgic cigarette smoke. However, appearances can be deceiving as, hidden behind the half burned out 10 watt lamps and cracked linoleum floor is an excellent, always changing selection of beers and one of the best kitchens in Chicago’s shabby-chic hip-kid haven, the Pilsen neighborhood.

While there is a set menu at the Skylark including some of the best burgers the south side of Chicago has to offer, the real treat is their ever changing specials menu which runs the gamut between Moroccan lamb stew, ahi tuna steaks and my personal favorite, t-bone steak.

As a self proclaimed master of the grill, it has been my mission, nay, obsession to perfect the t-bone and, while I have gotten rather good at it, there is no substitute for the Skylark’s t-bone. Juicy, with just the right amount of fat to keep the flavor in-tact, not too much salt and just enough pepper, this steak is like the cover of “Kings of Metal” by Manowar, standing atop all its competitors, sword in hand, lightning crashing down. Epic.

While the kitchen is a pleasant surprise, the integral function of the Skylark is a dive bar. Dark, cavernous booths yawn along the wall as you enter, a few dim lamps and some neon from behind the bar provide the only illumination. Towards the back of the bar, a lonely pinball machine stares down a photobooth. During the day you can usually find some shabby scholar reading Giles Deleuze through precariously perched bifocals as he takes down his third pint.

At night, Pilsen’s good looking art kid population shows up. James Brown and Wilson Pickett go on the record player (yes this bar has a record player, no juke box, just a record player) and tables get cleared for dancing, most of which consists of that old hipster classic: “slightly swaying while spilling PBR all over the floor.”

Perhaps one of the best things about the Skylark is something it lacks, rather than something it has. No televisions blare in any of the Lark’s darkened corners, one feels as if one might have stepped through time back to an era when people went to bars to have conversations, or a quiet drink, without being distracted by the outside world. Also conspicuously absent from the Skylark is the air of pretension which generally accompanies dives where good food meets the art set. The bartenders are laid back but efficient, the patrons, from what I have noticed, seem to simply mind their own business instead of trying to prove something about their wardrobe to the rest of the bar and the mood is always one of affable drunkenness.

The Lark is as close as I’ve come to finding a Gold Standard for dive bars. And believe you me, I’ve seen a lot. From the food to the booze to the crowd to the music, the Lark has got it figured out on all fronts.


NAME OF BAR
The Skylark
2149 South Halsted
Chicago, IL

BEER
Tap: PBR plus a rotating selection of good stuff (Lagunitas specials, Great Lakes, etc.)
Bottle: Seems decent.

FOOD
One of the best dive kitchens I’ve ever seen. Moroccan lamb stew, great burgers and, of course, T-Bones.

ENTERTAINMENT
TVs: None!
Bar Games: Pinball, Photobooth

CLIENTELE
Attractive art kids, old men reading books, lots of ties.

MUSIC
Jukebox: No jukebox, just a record player and a bunch of bartenders with taste.
Live: Apparently there is live jazz on Saturdays, I have yet to verify this, though, perhaps I will have to make another trip.

DÉCOR
Bukowskian Chicago Dive

BANG FOR YR BUCK
Seems pretty decent, PBR’s cheap, generally have beer specials, food is about average for Chicago.

OVERALL RATING
9.5

CLOSING THOUGHTS
The Lark is, as I mentioned before, one of my new favorite bars in the world. Dark and drunk and fun. Check it out in the afternoon for a quiet pint or at night for the crowd.

Charleston, SC: AC's Bar: The Champagne of Beers of Bars

Charleston has a really big bridge. You can see it from miles away. It looks like something out of a science fiction movie, suspended by huge cables in a large arc. Throughout the 16 or so hours I spent in Charleston, I was to become intimately familiar with this bridge.

You see, if you miss the turn for Bay Street off of Highway 17 in Charleston you are damned, damned I say, to cross that bridge, make a u-turn and try it again. However, one thing I learned about the Carolinas is that they only like to mark exits from one side, not the other.

I drove over this bridge a grand total of 9 times.

Not in a row, obviously (I am slightly more navigationally capable than that) but throughout the day I either missed the Bay Street exit or was attempting to get somewhere else and ended up on the bridge 9 times.

Impressive, I know.

During my time in Charleston I came across a little hole-in-the-wall called AC’s Bar (467 King Street, Charleston, SC for those of you keeping score at home). From the outside, one would be hard-pressed to choose AC’s over any of the other bars in the neighborhood. Just a small neon sign reading AC’s and a nondescript awning adorn the façade and one imagines that the patrons like that just fine. Comprised mostly of tattooed rockers, bike messengers, the denizens of AC’s appeared to enjoy their own Private Idaho. And who wouldn’t? A nicely cluttered bar area gives AC’s that lived in feel, scruffy and unpretentious.

$2 PBRs and a damn good burger for roughly $5 make this place easy on the pocketbook as well. I had a straight up cheeseburger which was expertly cooked (not too done, not too raw, with almost a slight char on the outside, delicious).

However, the most memorable thing for me was that the bartender had, apparently, rifled through my high-school record collection and played a TON of music I hadn’t heard in eons. Right when I showed up, in fact, he played Alkaline Trio’s “Goddammit!” record in its entirety. By the time I decided to leave ACs my brain was so addled by PBR and Chicago-style pop-punk I was getting ready to seek out a drummer and write some 2 minute hookfests about drinking cheap beer and sitting on couches, all soaring octave lines and machinegun drum fills. However, I soon put the kybosh on that notion as I continued my journey across that damn bridge…



AC’S BAR
467 King St.
Charleston, SC

BEER
Tap: A few locals and some crummy domestics.
Bottle: Selection seemed pretty good, AC’s has their “Beer of the Month” where you get a pretty damn good bottle for $2.25 . This month it is Harp.

They also have their whole booze selection written on the mirrors over the bar including a section which says, simply, “Champagne: Miller High Life - $2”

FOOD
Excellent burgers, pretty standard bar fare. Apparently they also have the best Philly Cheese Steak south of the Mason/Dixon.

ENTERTAINMENT
TVs: A few on which baseball and America’s Funniest Home Videos bid for my attention.
Bar Games: Pool, touch screen.

CLIENTELE
Rockers, hipsters, bike messengers, etc.

MUSIC
Jukebox: Not that I could see. An iPod that, apparently, can look into my past lives at the bar, though.
Live: There appeared to be a stage at the front of the bar, although there weren’t any fliers up for shows.

DÉCOR
Cheers meets your Uncle’s basement


BANG FOR YR BUCK
Pretty damn good. 5 Buck Burgers and 2 Dollar PBRS. I got out of there for 9 bucks plus tip.

OVERALL RATING
8.5

CLOSING THOUGHTS
Did I give this bar a higher rating because it inadvertently brought me back to my childhood? Maybe. Should you still check it out if you are looking for something to do in Charleston? Definitely.

Springfield, IL: You Can Take Our Land, But You Can Never Take Our Freedom Sandwich

One of the highpoints of travel has to be eating local specialties. Any time I am at a bar or restaurant I make sure to ask if they have some ridiculous food or drink item that is their specialty. Generally if you find a local to take you out they will automatically take you to the restaurant that makes shots in a flaming coconut or has a scale model of the Eiffel tower made out of French fries and cheese.

Or a giant pile of heart attack.

Springfield, IL is home to many wonders. The capital of the great state of Illinois cuts an imposing figure in the skyline which appeared, to Jack and me as we were driving in to the city, to be a giant hand flipping us the bird. Ahh southern Illinois.

Springfield, for some time, was also home to one of the most amazing people I know, Ms Abby Rae Lacombe who is responsible, in some fashion, for the excellent Front Porch Sitters blog and is also a dear, dear friend of mine. Abby, being an ex-Springfieldian, joined us for our show in Springfield and, consequently, introduced me to a sandwich which may, some day, be directly related to me necessitating open heart surgery.

I use the term sandwich very, very loosely. The Horseshoe, which is so famous it has its own Wikipedia page is more of a pile of delicious heart-attack on some Texas toast. The ingredients, from what I can remember are: one huge slab of Texas toast topped by a couple of hamburger patties, covered in French fries and then smothered in some kind of white cheese sauce. There were also some onions in there, I believe. In any case it is an imposing heap of bar food which even I, who fears no burger, could not finish in one sitting.

The best Horseshoe (which, according to Wikipedia, is also known as the “freedom sandwich”) as per Ms Lacombe, is to be found at D’Arcy’s Pint. A relatively unremarkable bar, save for the heaping piles of cardiac arrest they serve on a regular basis, I will blame D’Arcy’s Pint on my death bed as my arteries finally give up the ghost, shaking my fist in futile rage at the Horseshoe for being so damn delicious.

(I should mention that I recently found this website where the Horseshoe should definitely hold a place of distinction if it does not already.)

Right in the Breadbasket: Lawrence, KS pt. III: The Bottleneck

Photo by Jeremiah Hammerling
Note: This picture was not taken at the Bottleneck in Lawrence, KS but at the EP Theater in Chicago, IL about which I will write later.

Another helpful hint for those of you out there on the road, free pool time is your friend. Generally you can find one or two bars in any given town that have set their pool tables to “free” during the afternoon/evening*. These free pool times also usually accompany happy hours which is also a bonus. Free pool is great for myriad reasons.

1) Idle hands are the devil’s plaything.
If you tour like I usually do, you generally have a lot of time on your hands to screw around. They say that time equals money and this has never been more true than when you have a little bit of money and a lot of time on your hands with nothing to do. Free pool eliminates your need for something (which usually costs money) to do. Also, as I mentioned before, free pool is usually accompanied by happy hours which also ease the strain on the wallet. Also if you happen to play in a band with someone who is really good at pool, it gives you the chance to progressively improve in order to one day defeat them**.

2) Hey there Stranger.
Free pool/happy hours are great places to meet people. Don’t know anyone in town? Afraid no one is going to come to your show? Hit up the local beer hall with free pool, play a few games with your bandmates and strike up conversations with people playing near you. If you/they are cool they will end up coming to your show later that night and probably call their friends to say “Hey I met these dudes at the bar earlier, they are playing tonight, let’s go!” You want this.

3) R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Many places you will play on your tour will be bars. These bars will have pool tables, and if you can play a decent game of pool against someone at the bar you gain that person’s respect. This will lead to them sticking around to watch you, buying a t-shirt and maybe offering you a place to crash. Careful though, just because Cletus put up a fight against you and your bass player during cutthroat does not mean that his house will be clean, not covered in cat poop, or that he will not try to tell you about how he robbed a bank and/or try to get you guys to “party” all night***. So, free pool is your friend then, because it offers you the chance to work on your game.

4) Bonus Round.
As you can see in the above photo, you can also take awesome band pictures while playing pool and people will think you are cool.


So after eating a delicious meal at the Mad Greek, Jack and I found ourselves in a position we occupied a lot, namely, having very little money and a lot of time on our hands. So, what did we do? You guessed it. Free pool time.

The Bottleneck is apparently a pretty cool rock club. Although we were there in the middle of the day, the lineups seemed to be pretty cool, mostly touring acts. The Old 97s or some band of that ilk was playing the night we were there. Most importantly for us, though, they had free pool and cheap beer.

We were the only ones there, so numbers 2 and 3 were eliminated, however it did give me a chance to lose spectacularly to Jack about twelve times as well as to consume some of the local Free States porter which was delicious.

The Bottleneck qualifies as a dive bar, for me, dude behind the bar with a bad attitude, nasty looking concrete floor, no door on the bathroom/stall, etc. so, since it’s been a while I’m going to bust out the old DBRS:

Tah Dah!


THE BOTTLENECK
737 New Hampshire
Lawrence, KS

BEER
Tap: Pretty good, a lot of locals.
Bottle: Good.

FOOD
None that I could see.

ENTERTAINMENT
TVs: Meh.
Bar Games: Three pool tables (worn and lumpy just like a dive bar’s should be).

CLIENTELE
Couldn’t tell, as there was NOBODY there.

MUSIC
Jukebox: Above average.
Live: National touring acts.

DÉCOR
90’s Alt-rock press photos/standard rock dive fare.

BANG FOR YR BUCK
Happy hour was pretty decent from what I remember and they appear to have several of them, can’t speak for showtime, though. Also the free pool didn’t hurt.

OVERALL RATING
7

CLOSING THOUGHTS
The Bottleneck seems like it would be a good place to see a show. We certainly had a good time playing free pool and drinking cheap beer there, if you’ve got time to kill in Lawrence I’d recommend it.




*A quick search on Google usually will turn these up.
**Kelsey Crawford, if you are reading this I am coming for you.
*** “Party” generally involves watching CHUD II, drinking the worst beer you can think of and listening to his stories about all of the different ATVs he’s owned in his life. Not cool.

Right in the Breadbasket: Lawrence, KS pt. II: the Mad Greek

Nursing is a particularly handy skill when you’re on tour and broke. Not taking care of the elderly and infirm although theoretically that could come in handy at some point as well, but nursing as in “nursing a coffee for two hours while using a coffee shop’s free wifi” or “nursing a beer because you only get two free ones from the venue and you’re gonna want the other one for when you get onstage”.

Another time nursing comes in handy is when the people who drunkenly offered their couch to you at the show last night wake you up at 8am, frantically shooing you out the door as they try to pull their work clothes on. Then it is time to nurse your hangover with a cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle.

Massachusetts Avenue in Lawrence is replete with coffee shops in which to waste time, leer at the college girls walking by and nurse said hangover. I can’t recall the name of the coffee shop Jack and I found, however I do remember that they had free refills on coffee which was brilliant and that they were playing Amadou & Miriam’s Dimanche a Bamako album. Both positives for me.

After finishing two crosswords, drinking numerous cups of (free) coffee, it was time to get back on the street, maybe find something to eat and peruse the main drag of Lawrence. Much to our surprise a random guy walked up to us on the street and said, “Hey, you guys played at the Replay last night! You were awesome!”

This has never happened to me before, not even in towns where I have lived. For years. I was floored and even more so when we walked by the Free State Brewing Company and someone shouted from the smoking porch, “You guys rocked at the Replay last night!”

At this point I was pretty much ready to cancel the rest of the tour and settle down in Lawrence. Not only did we randomly play at the Replay the night before but we couldn’t have gone on before midnight so the sheer fact that anyone in Lawrence was sober enough to remember us playing at that point is nothing short of Herculean.

Lightning never strikes the same place twice and certainly not thrice, however, lo and behold Jack and I sat on the patio of the Mad Greek and our waiter said, “Hey did you guys play at the Replay last night?” Unbelievable. Apparently our waiter’s girlfriend had seen us last night, picked up a CD and told him about us. How he arrived at the conclusion that we were the musicians about whom his girlfriend was speaking, I’ll never know, nonetheless he was a nice guy.

The Mad Greek is mad delicious. Lots of big Greek-style plates full of gyro, souvlakia, dolmas smothered in tzatziki sauce. Nice big portions (they also have some, delicious looking Italian food but I was on a mission for gyro and dolmas, yum!) and pretty cheap if you can order off of the lunch menu. They also have nice outdoor seating if you happen to be there during the spring or summer. I recommend the gyro.

Welcome, Beeronauts!

Just wanted to take a minute to welcome J. Isaac Burckhard to the VA crew. He is, as you can probably tell from his post, extremely knowledgeable about beer. He is also a very funny guy with whom I have traveled extensively. He will be updating sporadically with new beers for you to consume and enjoy.

Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA

Hello from the Pacific Northwest!
As a first time author on the Vagabond Appetite created by the esteemed Bryce Midas Richardson, I'd like to introduce myself as Justin: the Beer Adventurer! I have been neck deep in homebrew recipies, drowned myself in 2 year-old horse piss swill, encountered barleywines and IPA's of the Gods, and some how managed to come out with an understanding of almost all aspects of the greatest beverage known to humankind: BEER.

Todays beer is SIERRA NEVADAS "Torpedo Extra IPA"


I finished packing all my belongings on a fine Saturday afternoon to move to a new location and find that I forgot to pack one of my most beloved beer vessels, the Belgian chalice. What To DO? I ask myself. Fill it with SN's Torpedo Extra IPA is WHAT TO DO!!!!

Man, this is one of the BEST IPA's I have ever had. Balanced, full, spicy, fruity. And unlike most big IPA's, the Boys at The Sierra Brewery kept the bitterness at a minimum. Lovely. As to allow the tongue to soak up the flavors before the bittering hops take over.

First off, Lets clarify a few things. To those unfamiliar with beer verbage, heres a few basics:

-IPA: India Pale Ale. ( Created By the British, mass amounts of hops in the beer acted as a preservative to keep the beer fresh on the long voyages to the troops in India. )

-IBU: International Bittering Units. (most humans cannot taste IBU's exceeding 100)

-ABV: Alcohol By Volume

-Hops: the flower contributing to flavor, aroma, and bitterness.

Okay, onward!!!

Head Retention- Because I used the wrong vessel (see pic below), I cannot comment on the head retention. It didn't last long enough to create the merengue texture I hoped for. Next time.

Body/Taste- was a deep amber/copper tone that rested on the palette nicely. The taste is well balanced and solid, with a spicy hop bite up front that imparts a more moderate bitterness. This is evened out well by tangy tropical fruits and a mix of grainy and bready malts.

Aroma- Floral, spicy. Pineapple, mango, papaya?? I expected mostly grapefruit as is usually the case in big IPA's.

The reason is the choice in hops:
Magnum
Crystal
Citra

The Citra hop is a new breed of hop funded and developed by Sierra Nevada and a couple of undisclosed breweries.

Now for the fun part.
The name TORPEDO stems from an invention that Ken Grossman and the brewers came up with several years ago. The Hop Torpedo is a cylindrical stainless steel vessel that was developed to harness the essential oils and resins in hops, without extracting bitterness. The device essentially works like an espresso machine.

So theres two reasons to go out and get a 6 pack while they're available.
New Hop breed and the Torpedo method.

ABV: 7.2%
IBU: 70
Availability: 12oz 6-pk, Year round
Brewer: Sierra Nevada, Chico, CA (http://www.sierranevada.com/beers/torpedo.html)