C'mon Get Happy, Dog!

With two visits in less than seven days I can safely say that it's been a Happy Dog kind of week. I chalk my not-so-sudden desire to consume encased meats with beer chasers up to the start of baseball season, but that's neither here nor there.

After my first visit to the Happy Dog I began to somewhat systematically taste and test as many of the toppings and sauces as my palate would allow. To date there are 15 options I've yet to try, but my apologies to the cabbage and bok choy based toppings: it ain't gonna happen.

The first trip to the HD this past week was for my birthday and the construction of the Breakfast Birth-dog:


Since these images never turn out quite perfectly it's a hot dog topped with: bacon, egg, chipotle hollandaise, habanero pickled onions, and nacho cheese. The perfect marriage of comforting breakfast fare and spicy zing. I got my tater tots with chipotle ketchup, raspberry crunch mustard, saffron aioli, and "killer" steak sauce. While I'm glad to have tried it, I wasn't blown away by awesome with the raspberry mustard. The rest were all solid in their own right, especially the steak sauce, which makes A-1 look like Z-26, if you get my meaning. And I think you do.

We swung by again last night after an evening work event for more hot dog on beer action. I took the topping approach in a totally new direction this time and came up with the Asian Invasion Dog:



For the sight impaired and/or those reading this on an iPhone this one goes like so: hot dog with teriyaki onions, marinated portabello mushrooms, wasabi peas, Thai chili-garlic sauce, and black truffle honey mustard. Like a pan-Asian vacation on a hot dog! Got some tots with mustards, both traditional yellow and dijon, along with Momocho's habenero hot sauce and chipotle hollandaise (my favorite). Both the mustards were incredible, making their store bought cousins seem weak and wimpy in comparison. Momocho's habanero was excellent if not what I expected. It's thick and creamy, like an aioli, whereas I was expecting something thin and vinegar base. Regardless the spice/taste balance is perfect, plenty of fire, but not so much that it overwhelms any other flavors or leaves you burning in agony afterward.

Liver Punisher's WTF Dare Shots

Lots of bars, especially in college towns; spring break locales; and resorts, offer up specialty house shots. These are generally outlandish or extreme in some nature, often using “extreme” ingredients or including incongruous liquors. To whit the Mexican Revolution, a shot consisting of equal parts tequila and 151 proof rum topped with a generous spray of hot sauce. Or maybe you prefer the 3 Wise Men, a shots whose contents are hotly contested, but generally follow the guidelines of alcohols named after dudes with “J” names. Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo, and Johnny Walker are the most common components.

“Dare Shots” is how I generally refer to these concoctions and had I not tried a few of them over the years, usually on my birthday, I would chalk them up to the same urban mythology of zany sex acts like the Abraham Lincoln, Jelly Donut, Hot Carl, and the notorious Orange Ronald. That said, I’ve dabbled in the invention and execution of a few of these myself and thought that the day after my birthday would be just as good a time as any to share them with the world.

First up is the Tijuana Prostitute:

Ingredients:

- 1 shot tequila blanco

- Squeeze of lime

- Teaspoon of cottage cheese

- Several healthy shakes of hot sauce, habenero would be best

Make It So:

Squeeze the lime into the shot glass them pour in tequila. Top with cottage cheese and hot sauce. Shoot it and enjoy!

Second to the party is the Mexican Gentleman:

Ingredients:

- Cold gin

- Salsa

Make It So:

For each person partaking pour one shot of gin and a heaping spoonful of salsa into a shaker. Shake vigorously then strain into shot glasses. Shoot and enjoy! You may also add lime juice or hot sauce to the shaker to taste.

Good luck with these, I hope they make your night a little better sometime soon!

Lolita and Edison's Pub, March 25, 2011

Michael Symon’s cadre of restaurants are some of the larger jewels in Cleveland’s restaurant crown. So it hasn’t been active avoidance that’s kept me from dining there, more timing and opportunity. That was until this past Friday when my friend Kate and I took a drive to Tremont for night nosh at Lolita’s Happy Hour part II.

Lolita wisely re-offers the chance at food and drink specials starting again at 10:30pm and we were lucky enough to snag the last two seats at the bar—specials are available at the bar, only. In addition to Lolita’s modest but powerful dinner menu we received the Happy Hour specials list which offers a few delicious bites for $5 as well as a heads up on what drinks are on the cheap that night. We ordered a round of $2 Sierra Nevada Pale Ales and poured over the menus.

Yeah, $2 Sierra Nevada Pale Ales. Most joints you’re lucky to get $2 Miller Lights at happy hour, but Lolita offers up one of the finest mass market brews at an unbeatable price.

Picking from Lolita’s menu would be hard enough on its own, but coupled with a selection of amazing $5 choices made the picking all the harder. Kate was the first to make any sort of decision, stating that we must get the crispy chicken livers from the appetizer menu. I countered this with roasted bone marrow, something I’ve wanted to eat for a while, but had yet to find it on a menu or in my price range. $8 seemed like a fair price for an experiment. While the whole $5 menu was piquing our interest, with two apps ordered we selected only the fried Brussels sprouts. Needing to round out our faux tapas meal with something of substance we agreed on the duck prosciutto pizza.

Business was booming for 10:30-11:00 on a Friday so we sipped Sierra Nevadas and caught up. I’m not entirely sure how much time had passed but was pleasantly surprised when our food arrived. Everything looked and smelled amazing and there was little hesitation before diving in. Having had a long standing issue with the consumption of offal I decided to dive in headfirst with some chicken liver. I’ve tried fowl liver in the past and never had anything pleasant to report about it. With one bite this dish changed my mind. With their outsides perfectly fried and crispy I was surprised when the insides all but melted in my mouth. The last time I tried liver I remember it tasting extremely metallic, but these were robust and meaty, a strong flavor that was certainly chicken at heart but approached beefiness in its power and weight. The livers were served on a bed of some of the creamiest, delicate polenta I’ve ever crossed fork with and garnished with bacon and mushrooms. Easily one of the best things I’ll eat this year.

Next we moved on to the marrow. I’ve long been intrigued by the consumption of marrow. It always seemed like a very primal, animalistic thing to eat. That only lions and bears and Vikings and other beasts of their ilk would crack open the bones of another animal and suck the rich, fatty substance from therein. But apparently it’s for fancy pantses, too. We received 3 stout bones that had been sawed open to expose the marrow and make for easier scooping. The marrow had been roasted with a simple salsa verde and was served with pickled onions and toasted bread for spreading. I scraped out the contents of half a bone and spread it on the bread. I could almost tell as the bread and marrow entered my mouth that this was going to be amazing. Marrow, if you’ve never had it, is the essence of beef flavor. Like bacon its flavor is fatty in the best possible way, and the marrow’s concentrated beefiness is like getting punched in the mouth with a steak filled with hamburgers. It’s beef to the highest degree and should be experienced at least once. I’m so happy to have tried this and can’t wait to have it again!

With the wild cards successfully played we moved onto the fried Brussels sprouts. Ranging from slightly charred to perfectly cooked, these sprouts offer a variety of tastes and textures on their own. They are then tossed with anchovies and capers for some salt and walnuts for extra crunch. There was also the perfect hint of sweetness throughout the dish which my taste parts noted as balsamic vinegar or a reduction, but it’s not listed on the menu so I can’t say with 100% certainty. Arguably as good as Melt’s sprouts in cherry lambic glaze, Lolita’s sprouts number amongst my favorite preparations of these tiny cabbages for both taste and approach. Finally we came to the pizza. Topped with a couple of soft cooked eggs, parmesan, rosemary, and gorgeous flakes of duck prosciutto this simple little pizza was the perfect marriage of sweet, salty, fatty, cheesy, and carbs. As fantastic as it was, a solid “B” for sure, in light of the three other “A” plates it just felt a little flat. Accompanied by less ambitious sides I’m sure it would’ve shined, but with the livers and the marrow on the table, few things would have seemed as bold and flavorful.

Full and more than satisfied we hung around to finish our beers before making our way to Edison’s Pub for a night cap. We were lucky enough to find Stone’s Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale and Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale on tap and had a few. The Bourbon Barrel ale is golden in color and produces a modest head with little lacing. It smells primarily of malt with hints of oak and maple. Its primary flavor is malt mingling with the woodiness of the barrel aging, with hints of vanilla and maple from the residual bourbon. A wonderful, hearty “dessert” beer if ever there was one. The Stone offering is on the completely opposite end of the spectrum. Classified as an American black ale and clocking in at 8.7 ABV the Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale is not to be trifled with. Its nearly pitch black in a glass with a small head and modest lacing. Its faint aroma is a mixture of hops and dark malts, both of which are subtle. With such an subtle fragrance I was surprised by how much depth of flavor this beer has—it’s from Stone so I shouldn’t have been. There’s a quick jab of malty-ness at first which I quickly overwhelmed by the dueling flavors of dark roasted malt and a heavy dose of pine-then-citrus hops. All together an amazing, flavorful, powerful but balanced beer, and proof contrary to my long held belief that black IPAs are generally unsatisfying. I realize that this isn’t technically a black IPA, but it does prove that dark beers can be made hoppy successfully.

From the Liver Punisher WTF Files: Wienie-tini

Nicole’s roommate, Morgan, recently won a bottle of Bakon brand bacon flavored vodka. Let me reiterate the fact that this was won and thankfully not purchased. Once the seal was broken and the bottle open we all waited patiently for her to dole out some tastes. I was excited by the prospect of this bizarre draught, but was quickly disappointed.

The initial taste is of ultra-astringent cheap vodka, like the kind for sale a grocery stores and convenience marts in plastic gallon jugs. The cheap-stuff burn is bad enough, but it’s quickly replaced by an overwhelming smokiness which isn’t apparent in the “bouquet,” like chasing a shot of cheap vodka with a slug of liquid smoke. While neither of these is appealing, the actual worst part of the whole experience is the unaccountable-for fatty aftertaste. I don’t know how it’s done, but the after taste and mouth feel are similar to that of chomping on a nub of bacon fat.

And while this is most certainly a no-thank-you for me, it’s not the weirdest meat flavored vodka on the market, the Alaska Distillery has the corner on that market. But I was definitely curious so I visited the Bakon website for more info. After scrolling through some basic web business boiler plate I hit the mother load of what-the-fuckery: the recipe page.

My first though after tossing back a spot of this off-putting drank was bacon Bloody Mary, it’s their “flagship” cocktail, and something I’m sure tastes more than a bit like barbeque sauce juice. My favorite, and the most appealing by far, is the Waffle Shot, equal parts Pinnacle Whipped and Bakon. And the list goes on and on and on and never really sounds appealing, to whit the poorly named and awful sounding Scottish Bacon, equal parts Bakon and Scotch. Mmm… pass. But as off put as I was by this train wreck, I couldn’t stop thinking about how to work this into a silly little cocktail with a silly little name, and thus the Wienie-tini was born.

Ingredients:

- 2oz Bakon brand bacon flavored vodka

- 1oz grape vodka

- Dash hot chili sauce

Make It So:

- Pour vodkas into a shaker with ice and add hot sauce to taste

- Shake and strain into cocktail glass

- Garnish with a cooked and cooled cocktail wiener on a sword

- Enjoy?

My favorite aspect of this drink is my painfully clever name, so that should tell you something

about it.

The Liver Punisher and the Triumphant Return of the Liver Punisher Drink of the Month Club: Drink of the Month

While there is some serious shittalking and muckraking done on a regular basis in the name of food—proper seasoning etiquette, rare vs. well-done, etc.—it’s arguable that the only thing people get more riled up about than how their steak is cooked is their booze.

Bourbon or Scotch, lager or ale, gin or vodka, Mickey’s or Colt 45. There are as many fair arguments to be made as there are taste buds in your eat hole. Perhaps there is no booze related argument more heated, though, than what constitutes a “correct” martini. Dryness and the proper inclusion of vermouth being the chief sources of these arguments. A classic martini calls for a whopping table spoon of dry vermouth stirred with 2oz of quality gin, a delicious and acceptable recipe. On the other hand, noted martini enthusiast Winston Churchill’s recipe called for ice cold gin served by a bartender who had glanced at a bottle of vermouth while shaking the drink. All other recipes fall somewhere in between, save for the inverted or “upside-down” martini which calls for 2oz of vermouth shaken with half an ounce of gin. Yum?

My personal history with this most iconic of concoctions is checkered at best. The first few times I tried this at home I wound up with a glass full of no-thanks and a long held belief that gin was just the most worst thing ever. A gin-and-tonics phase, and gin better than Tanqueray, helped erase that erroneous belief, but the martini still left me cold. Gin, basically on its own, is a bitter, pungent, astringent quaff that falls squarely in the learn-to-like camp with Scotch. Slowly I warmed to the idea of a glass of icy-cold gin, nudged along by my introduction to Hendrick’s. (Occasionally derided by “purists” as “novelty” gin as it’s distilled with cucumbers and rose petals, there is, in fact, no gin governing body or—please forgive me—Gin-eva convention regarding the production or ingredients of gin. Gin is basically defined as neutral spirits flavored with juniper berries and other botanicals. What those other botanicals are is left to the distiller’s imagination.)

With my interest in martini’s renewed I began playing around with the basic ingredients again. My initial results, while not amazing, were on the right path. With due diligence I continued to experiment and finally reached some common ground with the martini. While I certainly like and understand the appeal of both the classic and dry martini, they are almost painfully simple. Gin. Vermouth. Two notes that sound fine together but need to be supplemented in order to form a chord (metaphor courtesy of Alton Brown). And so it is with great pride and pleasure that I present to the world the Liver Punisher Tonic-less G&T Martini:

Ingredients:

- 2oz good quality gin

- Splash dry vermouth

- 1 dash bitters

- Generous wedge of lime, about 1/8-1/12 lime

Do It:

- Fill glass with ice and water, set aside to chill

- Fill a mixing glass with ice

- Pour splash of vermouth into mixing cup and swirl to coat ice and sides of cup. Pour off excess vermouth

- Add one dash of bitters and a generous squeeze of lime to the mixing cup, then add gin

- Stir for about thirty seconds

- Empty chilled glass and drop in spent lime wedge

- Strain drink into chilled glass and enjoy!

This martini, like most great drinks, is a pleasure for both the mouth and nose. The pine-y pungency of the gin is well balanced by the bold citrusy nose of the lime, while the subtle hint of the vermouth and bitters and the sour bite of the lime balance the ultra assertive taste of the gin. If made correctly the aftertaste should be very similar to a well balanced gin and tonic. And that’s one of the things I found most appealing about this recipe, the result yields a drink where taste evolves as each sip passes over the palate and down the throat.

The Return of the Revenge of Ridiculous Eats, Part 2: Eating Eggstravaganza!

Not long ago a fellow food fiend posted this how-to slide show for Grilled-Cheese-Eggie-in-a-Basket. Take a moment to follow the link and click through. It’s cool, I’ll wait.

Back? Drooling? Me too. Her posting of this was totez ironic, and by “ironic” I mean completely coincidental, as I had just recently posted my suggestion to dip, not toast, but grilled cheese into a sunny-side-up or over-easy egg yolk. My one had just been upped.

Graciously accepting my second-place trophy I headed for the store for supplies. A dozen eggs and pack of cheese later I was ready for action. (Of course I already had bread and butter, how else am I supposed to make praline cinnamon toast? Duh.)

Back to matters at hand. With all the fixins and hardware in place it dawned on me that cooking two whole slices of bread and their centers separately in my modestly sized frying pan wasn’t happening. So I improvised. If you have been graced with an outsized frying pan, by all means follow the Serious Eats method, if not I think I finally got the medium-pan-method down after five tries.

Ingredients:

- Butter

- Cooking Oil

- Two Slices Bread

- Two Slices Cheese

- Two Eggs

Make it Happen:

- Place your well oiled, modestly sized frying pan on oven and begin heating to the medium range
- Assemble sandwich in traditional grilled cheese fashion, but don’t butter yet.
- Using a pastry ring, cup, or some sweet, sweet eyeballin abilities excise the center of the sandwich.
- Butter top and bottom of both parts of the sandwich.
- Place all parts in pan and allow side one to fry at medium for about a minute-and-a-half to two.
- Increase heat to high and flip sandwich parts.
- After a minute crack two eggs into the hollowed out center of the grilled cheese.
- Continue to cook on this side until the bottom of the egg has completely cooked and is solid enough to flip without running or leaking.
- Flip sandwich and center again, still on high and cook for thirty seconds to a minute to ensure both sides are sealed.
- Check the center cut-out for doneness and remove from heat if necessary, then reduce heat back to medium and cook the outside for two to three minutes.
- Plate.
- Enfuckingjoy!

This method has worked great for me once, really well for me twice, just “OK” once, and too runny once when I was rushing, hence the extra minute or two at the end which is dependant more on your runny-whites preference level. I like them pretty firm, but even the longest cook time I gave this never solidified the yolks, which is key. Without a pastry ring or round cookie cutter I found that eyeballing it and cutting out a square center was easier and more effective than trying to cut around the mouth of a small drinking glass, and buttering after cutting ensures that the butter and bread don’t stick to the cutting board/plate/counter.

And in a best-of-both-worlds coincicurrance chopping out the middle leaves a mini grilled cheese behind for yolk-dipping satisfaction. Like Paul Giamatti would say: “Win. Win.”

The Return of the Revenge of Ridiculous Eats, Part 1: Give Me Lenten Pizza Specials, or Give Me Death!

Perusing Cleveland's Scene magazine has become a staple of my work-day lunch breaks. Cleveland's weekly alternative paper is one of the better free publications of most large cities I've been to. Competent writing, plenty of show listings, and hilarious ads. What more could one ask for? The comics back, for starters, but that's another article for another outlet.

Anywhozle, for the past few weeks I've been seeing adds for a pierogi pizza being served up by a Parma pizza palace called P. Jay's. Surprised? Maybe if it wasn't in Parma. Curious? You bet!

A very small amount of Google detective work led me to the P. Jay's Pizza website. A click or two later I arrived at this image:

Bam.

What more can say? What more could one ask for? I suppose my one question would be: Is there really extra butter added? In addition to the butter sauce? Seems a bit much, but then this wouldn't be a ridiculous eats entry if it wasn't, right?

I'm hoping to make it all the way out to Parma to give one a whirl soon. Further review when that occurs. In the mean time, sit back and revel in the knowledge that this is out there in the world, waiting to cram your arteries and gullet with buttery, pizza-y goodness!

Another Bullshit Night In Suck City

I am a forgiving person by nature. Holding a grudge feels unnatural to me. It’s always seemed like way more effort to maintain animosity towards someone. This isn’t to say that trespasses forgiven are also forgotten, or that if I’ve been wronged by someone that I’m quick to let them back into my good graces, but I’m certainly willing to accept an apology and get on with it.

There are few facets of daily life in which I am more forgiving and understanding than the service industry. I’ve worked enough customer service jobs and have run across enough asshole customers that I am almost entirely empathetic with wait staff, bartenders, delivery drivers, operators, etc. These jobs are not the most fun or pleasant occupations. People expect pizza to be there as soon as the phone is hung up, they want to be the first served at the bar, and they want their problems fixed immediately despite the fact that it can’t be done, or that it can, just not by you and yelling isn’t going to make things happen faster. I get it. Believe me, I do.

And so it is extremely difficult for me to say this, but our service at XYZ the Tavern last night sucked. Worse than that if fucking blew. But more accurately it just wasn’t there. Bad service would’ve been an improvement and something that might is forgivable, but no service is completely and utterly impossible to ignore.

Now, quick readers will note the dates. Today is March 18, which means last night was… St. Patrick’s Day, one of the busiest bar days on the books. We knew that going into our evening out. We expected the bar to busy, it was, and the tables to be full, they were. But the staff, accommodating at first, cleared and cleaned the first available table. Brought us water even. And then…

Nothing.

Well, once I finished the little bit of beer I had left from the round we ordered at the bar while waiting it was bussed, but other than the busboy, I don’t think anyone noticed we were there.

But it was St. Patrick’s Day, be patient! We were. Very much so. Watching waiters and waitresses constantly pass by, delivering menus, drink, even food to every single table around us. Yeah, we had a menu, but we’d picked one off the bar when we came in. Certainly no one had brought one to the table. So we waited. And watched. And grew hungry and impatient until finally we left.

Do you know how many times I’ve done that? None. Never. Even at places where I’ve received terrible, slow, indifferent service I’ve never just left. And we tried and tried to justify this awful service, but as we could plainly see every one around us enjoying at least some attention from the servers we really couldn’t find a good reason to be treated so poorly.

It’s really difficult for me to write a bad review of anything, but there is no way I can find anything even remotely positive to say about XYZ the Tavern. And were the service merely poor or the food bad I might’ve been willing to try again someday in the future, but I can’t imagine a circumstance in which I would be willing to try eating there again. I’m not saying never, what I am saying is: really unfuckinglikely. And it pains me to say this as well, but this experience was so bad that it will be a while before I go back to ABC.

The Beauty Is In Its Simplicity

As I'm sure I've mentioned on this blog before, I love breakfast. Save for oatmeal there aren't many breakfast dishes I dislike, but eggs in almost any form rank right at the top of the list, often in sandwich form. So, it was some surprise to me a month or so ago when I was contemplating a bacon'n'cheese sandwich a realised I didn't really want one. I wanted all the components of it, for sure, but not in the way I ususally constructed and consumed it.

I took a minute to think about it and began deconstructing the sandwich: eggs, cheese, bread. Simple. How could I reconfigure these in an equally delicious way, that sounded more appealing than the old-standby? Thankfully the answer struck me within a minute or two, and it was so obvious that I couldn't believe I'd never thought of it before. Take the egg out of the sandwich, use the cheese and bread to make grilled cheese, fry the egg over easy, dip the grilled cheese in the lovely, runny yolk, then enjoy some fried egg and grilled cheese. Simple, delicious, and absolutely satisfying, especially when doused with a little hot sauce.

I'll assume the average reader has grilled at least one cheese in his/her life so I'll skip that, but if you've only got one decent pan to your name I like to pop my grilled cheese in a 250 degree oven for a minute or two while I fry the eggs. Now, the only hitch is making a proper over easy egg, which I finally, after years of broken and over cooked yolks, discovered the secret to: a well oiled, screaming hot frying pan, non-stick if you got it. Crack the eggs into the hot pan and allow them to cook until they're set just enough to flip them. Once they've reached this stage quickly, but carefully, flip the egg and kill the heat. The pan is certainly hot enough to cook the top of the whites and lightly seal the yolk without totally cooking it. Let them sit this way just long enough to pull the the grilled cheese, then halve the sandwich and plate. Again, hot sauce is a nice addition, but completely optional. I think provolone and/or Swiss make for great grilled cheese, but Muenster and/or pepper jack are excellent, too. And a few strips of bacon couldn't hurt either right? And if one were to fry the grilled cheese and eggs in the rendered bacon fat, that wouldn't be too terrible either, right? Right.

The Fracas Affair

Fracas, an American Gastro-Pub, is the latest addition to Cleveland’s ever expanding restaurant roster. Opening late last year in the Centrum Theater at the corner of Coventry and Euclid Heights Boulevard, I’d been curious about before it even opened due to its Gabbo-like hype campaign. A hand painted sign reading “Fracas” first appeared on the awning buttressed by the Dog House and Chipotle. Later a sign in the window declared that it “[was] Coming.” Eventually the signage disclosed that Fracas was going to be a restaurant around the same time I started seeing ads in Scene, Cleveland’s free weekly. So my curiosity had been piqued already when I noticed that the print ads Fracas was running were declaring it “The Best New Restaurant in Cleveland!” A rather bold statement, I thought; a challenge even. And so with little hesitation I agreed to accompany Nicole to this new spot for dinner this past Tuesday.

Luckily Fracas is only a few blocks from either of our apartments so braving the latest storm-of-the-century-of-the-week was little problem. We entered the front doors of the old Centrum building to find the hostess sitting behind the disused ticket counter. She quickly escorted us down the hall and into one of the theaters. With no real way of knowing from the outside, I was slightly shocked to find that Fracas is massive. With a 3 or 4 story high ceiling and taking up almost all of the theater’s former seating area, Fracas has the potential to accommodate some large crowds, throngs, even. A huge peninsula of a bar juts through the middle of the dining room, adorned with fifteen taps. Surrounded by several dozen high stools, the bar alone seats more than some restaurants in the area.

It seems we were the first to arrive, and being the only two guests in this cavernous space was a little strange, but the staff on hand was amazingly friendly so the slightly uncomfortable feeling was quickly assuaged. Glancing through the drink and food menus I was relieved to find the drink menu was notably larger than the food. While I appreciate options at restaurants I feel, sometimes, that a menu too large spreads the quality too thin, at least when it comes to food. A competent bar tender should be able to master a laundry list of libations, but too much variety in the kitchen can compromise quality even in the strongest kitchens. Making a final choice was tough, so we just picked drinks first. I went local with an Old 21 Imperial IPA from Strongsville’s Brew Kettle. A rich, gold/blond colored ale with a touch of head and decent lacing, Old 21 is packed with citrusy hops, mostly grapefruit with a hint of orange and pine, and a pleasant bitter-malt aftertaste that borders the taste profile of some barley wines. Nicole chose Stone’s Levitation, an American amber ale with a strong hop presence but without the heft of a lot of Stone’s other offerings. Similar to Arrogant Bastard, but it’s possible to drink more than one or two Levitations in an evening if inclined.

With drink orders in we were still uncertain of our food choices so we selected an appetizer from the simple but well appointed offerings. House made potato chips with bacon onion dip was the final call, although the calamari, shell fish, and pretzels also sounded promising. The chips were solid, but not the best homemade chips I’ve ever had, they either needed to be dried more thoroughly pre-fry or drained better post-fry. Either way a fair few were greasy and limp and still tasting of fryer oil, the successful chips were wonderful. But the real star of this opening act was the dip, taking rich, decadent onion dip, always a favorite, and ratcheting up the deliciousness with bacon was inspired. The sweet/saltiness of the bacon balanced out the creaminess of the dip base, while the pork fat partnered with the mayo and sour cream for a ménage trois of artery wrecking flavor.

Our minds now slightly relieved of order anxiety we were finally able to place entrée orders. I selected the angus burger under the belief that most restaurants can be reasonably judged based on the execution of their burger. Nicole chose excellent sounding gnocchi. On such a slow night orders arrived quickly and we were able to dive right in. My burger, ordered somewhere south of medium and north of medium-rare, was cooked perfectly, solid seer on the outside, equally pink and brown in, allowing for the maximum flavor combination of meat and heat. And, man, was it meaty! Like beef on ten, just a few nibbles of meat this good could convert most of PETA. Topped with caramelized onions in Port reduction, apple wood bacon, and smoked Gouda, Fracas could almost be accused of gilding the lily with this dish. Luckily all the ingredients married so well that it was like devouring a four part harmony between grilled brioche. For my side I picked the fries (the other option being the chips, but we’d already ordered those), which were obviously cut fresh and delicious, if a little soft on the outside. Nicole’s gnocchi was also excellent. Locally made Ohio City black pepper gnocchi came swimming in a smoked gouda Alfredo and accompanied by wild mushrooms, leeks, English peas, and grape tomatoes; as rich, hearty, and delicious as it sounds. My main concern when I saw the menu entry for it was that the gouda Alfredo would overwhelm the rest of the dish, but it was elegantly subtle, offering a rich smokiness on the back end of the palette, while allowing the rest of the swimmers room to shine. The meaty wild shrooms were the co-stars of this picture while the leeks provided some much needed onion-y high notes in this sumptuous affair, and the tomatoes and peas provided color and texture contrasts. An absolutely delicious but extraordinarily filling dish.

We agreed that our first experience with this new restaurant was great and warranted another visit in the near future, possibly for the fish and chips, meatloaf, or risotto. Or maybe just to try the intriguing beer-amisu from the dessert menu. Maybe not the best restaurant in Cleveland, Fracas is definitely a welcome addition and well worth a stop.

We Should Just Quit Now

If you haven't seen the Epic Meal Time videos on YouTube, what the hell are you waiting for? Canadians pwn the laughable food market on teh internets...

12 Beers of Christmas: Great Lakes Christmas Ale

Ohio beer lovers (especially Clevelanders) always get giddy when November rolls around because that means it's Christmas Ale season. It's kinda ridiculous how much hype this beer gets in the Buckeye State, and this year was no exception. However, to throw a wrinkle in this annual tradition, Great Lakes Brewing Company sent a larger than normal percentage of their seasonal Christmas Ale out of state, leaving a smaller supply here in Ohio.

As I mentioned when I first started this series, I had to check several places before I finally found a shop that had any in stock, and even then sales were limited to 1 per customer. When my review copy was inadvertently consumed by a certain very occasional poster to this blog, I temporarily freaked out, knowing that more Christmas Ale would be hard to come by. My ladyfriend and I were at our local Giant Eagle grocery store when we saw a patron exiting the premises with a sixer of Christmas Ale. We immediately made haste for the beer aisle, only to find out that he had bought the last one. We momentarily considered heading back outside and jumping the poor bastard for his beer. Figured we should probably take his shoes too while we're at it, since there's precedent.

We headed back to the Pace-High carryout, the site of my initial score. Unfortunately, there was no Christmas Ale in the cooler. Dejected but not defeated, I asked the guys there if they were going to get any more in. One of them answered "I can probably spare you a six pack," and headed for the stock room. Our eyes lit up. Upon his return he told us "We're just trying to keep it fair. People are actually selling this stuff on Craigslist."

Whoa. Further research would prove this claim to be true.

So I guess the over-arching goal of the 12 Beers of Christmas is to see if Great Lakes Christmas Ale is really the king of the holiday beers, or if it's just Cleveland pride run amok. After 11 beers of varying strengths and weaknesses, it was finally time to put Great Lakes to the test.

The pour is a coppery amber and crystal clear. The off-white head is thick and persistent. Not only did it have the longest duration of any of the beers I sampled, but it also laced to the glass quite nicely.

The beer gives off a strong aroma of honey and ginger, the latter I'd expect from a winter warmer, but not the former. It's not playing coy: this beer wants you to smell it, and you don't have to try very hard to pinpoint the rich ingredients.

My first sip delivers on the honey and spices, but with a more robust malt character. I get a very nice base of sweet toffee beneath the strong ginger and honey flavors. This is medium bodied with average carbonation. The finish is a really nice caramel sweetness around the malt.

This is an astounding tasting beer that will leave you craving more. You'll have to be careful drinking more than one of these, as the high gravity 7.5% ABV can get you shit-cranked in a hurry. That's what a winter warmer should do, but it does bear precaution.

Overall, I have to say that Great Lakes Christmas Ale is worthy of the hyperbolic accolades bestowed upon it by proud Clevelanders. Several of the beers in this feature have rated very highly (Columbus Winter Warmer, Shiner Holiday Cheer, and Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale in particular), but the Great Lakes edges all of them out. This is one beer truly worth searching for.

Beer Advocate readers: B+
Justin: A

12 Beers of Christmas: Shiner Holiday Cheer and Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale

Texas governor Rick Perry recently said that he'd support his state's secession from the Union and turn Texas back into an independent republic. While this treasonous outlook is cast off as little more than political rhetoric, the idea that some of the Lone Star State's finest products would only be available as "imports" frightens the hell out of me. For one thing, I don't want to have to show a passport just to be able to eat some of the world's best BBQ brisket. For another, if my access to Shiner Bock is cut off, I'll have to drink Michelob Amber Bock, which gives me nasty nightmares and hellacious hangovers.

I'm a big fan of the Spoetzl Brewery, makers of Shiner beers. When choosing my 12 Beers of Christmas, this was a no-brainer. I've never been disappointed by any Shiner product, not even their Smokehaus lager (though it may have been the single strangest beer I've ever tasted). The only disappointing part of this beer, to me, was that I had to wait so long to finally review it.

Shiner Holiday Cheer is based on the Dunkelweizen style - literally a "dark wheat" - but has its own special character. The pour reveals a clear beer with a deep mahogany color, the "dunkel" in "dunkelweizen." It has a tan frothy head with minimal lacing.

One of the first thing that strikes me about this beer is the strong aroma of peaches that it puts off. There are also traces of brown sugar and lightly toasted pecans, but the fruit is the major player here.

The taste follows the aroma as expected with something unique like this. The peach and pecan flavors are dominant, with some Belgian-like wheat notes filling out the body. The sweetness and nuttiness play off each other perfectly, and while there are no obvious hop tastes to speak of, the other flavors are very well balanced.

Holiday Cheer is a crisp drink, medium thin body, with a very pleasant toasted nut finish. I was already craving another one of these before I even finished the first one. At 5.4%, it's not going to kill you to knock a few of these back. I'm sure since it's fruity and without a prevalent hops flavor, a lot of of beer purists are going to knock this. Too bad for them: orthodoxy often leads to killing your enjoyment of anything new. I'll bet Rick Perry still eats hot dogs with ketchup and PBJ sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

Beer Advocate readers: B
Justin: A-



I feel the need to come out and say that I am not a hop-head, not even a little bit. I generally avoid pale ales and IPAs like the plague; I just don't dig on all that bitterness. Don't get me wrong, I've had some wonderful hop-heavy brews, but it's not my cup of tea, er, beer.

That said, I've never really been a huge fan of the Sierra Nevada offerings. Their pale ale is almost a standard in the style and is so popular that you can find it at even the least reputable watering holes. I realize that it is a really good beer, but it's never my first choice, probably not even in my top 50. So when I read the label and it said that Celebration Ale's primary job is to show off the first batch of hops from the growing season, I figured I was in for a tongue punisher.

Celebration Ale pours a coppery amber, and it's cloudy, probably because of it's hop concentration. It's got a thick off-white head that laces to the glass and doesn't let go.

Not surprisingly, the aroma is primarily hops. I get a lot of grapefruit and a little bit of pine. I don't necessarily associate grapefruit with a winter beer, but I'm keeping an open mind on this one.

The taste is a surprise. Yes, it's very hoppy, as an American IPA should be, but it's luscious. Strong hop bitterness, but rounded out by a citrus sweetness complimented by earthiness and florals. It's got a medium body with crisp effervescence. The finish is hoppy dryness, another IPA trademark.

Even with my general avoidance of hoppy beers, the Celebration Ale really impressed me. It's well-rounded character was a pleasant surprise after the aroma led me to believe this was going to bruise my taste buds. This beer is getting high praise and it definitely deserves it.

Beer Advocate readers: A-
Justin: A-

12BoC: Goose Island Mild Winter, Harpoon Winter Warmer & Magic Hat Howl

Hey, it's Christmas time; a guy's gotta do his shopping sometime, right? Sorry to have left you sans beer reviews. Here's a tripleheader to get us caught up.



I used to have a bunch of friends in Chicago, since the stylish thing to do after college was to move to the Windy City. Most of them have given up on Chicago, but I've inherited quite a few new friends due to my impending nuptials. My old friends and my new friends are quite disparate groups, but they all have one thing in common: they like drinkin', and Goose Island is a pretty impressive Chicago brewery.

I've been known to knock back their 312 wheat ale, the Summertime kölsch, and even their IPA when I'm feeling masochistic. I have to admit, though, that the Mild Winter was not in my original review queue. I only picked it up after the project started, but I was pretty impressed by this and I was tired of writing bad reviews of beers, so I bumped a beer which shall not be named and never looked back.

Goose Island classifies the Mild Winter as an American Mild Ale, but it could just as easily be called a Rye Beer. It pours out a deep rich brown with a frothy, bubbly, off-white head that laces itself to the glass. It doesn't have a very strong aroma, some caramel malts and a slight whiff of dark fruit. On the surface, not altogether impressive, but looks (and smells) can be deceiving.

Upon first sip, I thought maybe I was drinking a coffee stout. Coffee and roasted malts dominate here, with a healthy amount of rye and cinnamon, though not overpowering. It's got a very pleasant sweetness to it, and at times a little bit of candied apple poke through. Really nice, unique balance of flavors: rye has a tendency to want to dominate a drink, which makes this even more impressive.

The aftertaste is primarily malty sweetness, but not too intense. This is very drinkable, and at 5.6% ABV, not likely to put you on your ass without a concerted effort. Like I mentioned from the outset, this was a really good brew that wormed its way into the 12 Beers through sheer merit. Kudos to Goose Island and here's to wishing a Mild Winter upon my Chicago pals.

Beer Advocate readers: B+
Justin: B+



A couple of days ago while reviewing the Flying Dog K-9 Cruiser, I wished to Santa Claus that some of these Christmas beers would either be objectively exceptional, or at the very least flame out trying to do something unique. Harpoon answered my call, putting forward a polarizing Winter Warmer that would make grading this beer very difficult.

I have to admit, I have never had a single beer from the Harpoon Brewery, a Boston institution since 1986. This being my first, I'm interested to try their other varieties because if they go all out with those like they do with the Winter Warmer, I'd imagine they're worth a shot.

Pouring this out, you get this beautiful reddish copper color. It's crystal clear with some visible effervescence, and the creamy off-white head is just icing on the cake. Or should I say pie?

You can't miss the aroma of this beer, as it assaults your olfactory nerves with an onslaught of spice - cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger - it really does smell like a pumpkin pie, minus the pumpkin, of course.

The first sip surprised the hell out of me. I knew I was going to get a fair amount of spice, but this beer tastes like it was stirred with a candy cane. Very sweet with a blast of cinnamon and nutmeg. It's very crisp despite its sweetness, thanks in part to the juniper-esque hops used to balance the malts and spice. The slight hoppy finish is enticement enough to find the bottom of the glass and then refill it.

This beer is not for everyone. It is a textbook winter warmer: heavily spiced, though a little on the light side at 5.8% ABV. A lot of people are going to be turned off by this as it doesn't have much of a hop or malt character. I, on the other hand, really enjoyed this and wouldn't hesitate to pick up another sixer to get me through the rest of this holiday season.

Beer Advocate readers: C+
Justin: B+



On Monday night, instead of reviewing Christmas beers, I was getting soused on Magic Hat #9 with my ex-bandmates, The Kyle Sowashes. Ever since Columbus Brewing Company discontinued their Apricot Ale, #9 has been my go to when I get a hankering for apricot beer.

Aside: this peculiar palette demand was opened up by drinking Rolling Rock when I was in college. My dad always swore that Rolling Rock was about a step and a half below piss, and while I acknowledge that it's not a high-class affair, I'll defend my consumption on the grounds that it was what I could routinely get for free or cheap that wasn't Natty Light. Also, my dad drinks Milwaukee's Best Light. 'Nuff said.

Anyway, I'm generally amenable to Magic Hat brews - their summer Wacko was a big hit for me - so I figured this beer would do OK by me. The Howl, marketed as a "black-as-night winter lager," started off by at least living up to its description. It is incredibly dark, though not as dense and opaque as the Anchor offering, which was virtually impenetrable to light. The bubbly beige head has a little bit of lacing against the glass.

Now, this is a lager, so I wasn't expecting a knockout aroma, but I also wasn't expecting it to be as subdued as it is. I have to strain to get the faintest whiff of smoky malt and maybe a hint of black licorice. Weird, but acceptable from a brewery that regularly churns out "Odd Notion" beers.

Howl is another very roasty brew, kinda like the Goose Island above, but not as well balanced. The roasted malts play with the bitter hops to produce some unholy amalgamation of toffee and charcoal. It's a pretty thin beer, as lagers generally are, and it drinks more carbonated than it looks.

Here's the real downer: the I get that black licorice back in the aftertaste, but it's laden with ash and rancidity. I've pretty much got to force this one down, and I am not compelled to drink another one. In fact, I pretty much just want to wash my mouth out. This beer might be appealing to somebody (judging by the BeerAdvocate ratings, more than I can imagine), but I will never put this in my taste hole ever again. I'll keep it out of the "avoid" range if only for the fact that it's still better than Beast Light.

Beer Advocate readers: B
Justin: C-

12 Beers of Christmas: Flying Dog K-9 Cruiser Winter Ale

OK, I'm kinda getting sick of these Christmas beers. Really, who's great idea was this anyway? The reviews almost write themselves at this point: "malty, spiced, strong, 'B.'" I'd really like more of these beers to excel (like the Columbus offering) or at least flame out spectacularly trying to do something different (like the Anchor).

I had some hopes for the Flying Dog entry in to the holiday fray: a strong English ale called "K-9 Cruiser." A brewery that has built its marketing around being "out there" - they're big fans of Hunter S. Thompson - should be able to make this a remarkable beer.

Think again.

I could probably cut and paste the review for the Columbus Winter Warmer, then take out everything that I enjoyed about it and have an adequate review of the K-9 Cruiser. Starting with the pour, we get a rich reddish-amber with no cloudiness. The head is impressive, a light creamy color that leaves very good lacing despite its quick dissipation.

The aroma doesn't jump out at you. It's a repressed mixture of malt, cinnamon and copper that doesn't really make me want to drink it. It certainly doesn't make me want to smell it.

Like the Columbus beer, the hops are the star of the show here, but not in a pleasurable way. You get the blast of piney hops with a little bit of light roasted malt and some well hidden spice notes that are blasted away by the hops. Don't get me wrong, we're not talking IPA-level bitterness here, but it's turning me off as far as winter beers are concerned.

It feels a tad thicker than previous offerings and isn't heavily carbonated. Still at a strong 7.4% and with this much bitterness, it's not the most drinkable beer I've tasted in this experiment, which leaves me wondering if it has any real redeeming qualities. I guess if I were a bigger hops fan and this didn't advertise itself as a winter ale, I might like it. However, as is I've gotta put this K-9 to sleep.

Beer Advocate readers: B-
Justin: C

12 Beers of Christmas: Columbus Winter Warmer

As much as people around these parts clamor for the Great Lakes Christmas Ale, you'd think nobody in this town brewed anything worthwhile. Enter the Columbus Brewing Company. I've been a fan of most everything this brewery produces, but especially the Scottish Ale (formerly known as the 90 Schilling Ale), the Summerteeth seasonal, and the recently discontinued Apricot Ale. So, when I got a chance to pick up their Winter Warmer, I jumped at the opportunity.

This one would not disappoint, and after my experience with two of the beers in this project (the Bell's and Brooklyn offerings), I needed something to come through and wow me. This is a true winter warmer, clocking in at a heavy 6.8% ABV.

The pour is nothing special: a reddish-amber color with some slight cloudiness. The thin, white head was somewhat disappointing, but would prove to be the only real low point of this beer.

The preliminary smell test reveals a robust aroma of pine, ginger, cinnamon, and lighter notes of berries and caramel malt. Definitely smells like a winter warmer should.

The initial sip gives me a hoppy hit, the first of these beers to do so. Most of these winter seasonals have been all about the malt, but the Columbus Winter Warmer gives a great first impression with hops reminiscent of juniper mingling with the heavy presence of ginger and cinnamon. There's a really pleasurable caramel malt body here that serves as a base for the spice and hops, rather than overpowering you with sweetness. Really nicely done.

It's got a pretty thin texture, not heavily carbonated but still feels crisp. Since the hops are the main player here, I'm not surprised that I get a slight dry, hoppy finish. This is one that I could knock back a few pints of on a cold, Columbus night. Matter of fact, I think I may already have accomplished that particular mission.

CBC really hits a home run with their Winter Warmer, and I'm not just saying that as hometowner. This is more than worth a try and gives the highly vaunted Great Lakes varietal a serious run for its money.

Beer Advocate readers: B+
Justin: A-

12 Beers of Christmas: Brooklyn Winter Ale

There aren't many things in Brooklyn that are genuine (obvious link to Look At This Fucking Hipster here), but the Brooklyn Brewery is one of them. From the heart of Williamsburg comes an unpretentious brewery that got to where it is through hard work and offering something of substance. Weird, right?

Brooklyn Winter Ale - much like the Bell's Christmas Ale - eschews the trappings of the Christmas/Winter beer varietal. No additional spices, fruits, etc.: this beer is a traditional Scottish ale, envisioned to be a tasty companion to a long winter. I guess I just don't understand this trend of creating something and pretending it's something else. Then again, I'm not from Brooklyn.

The Winter Ale is a deep reddish amber, clear but with heavy visible carbonation. The light beige head is very thin and dissipates quickly.

It doesn't do much for the nose: some caramel malt aroma with a slight undertone of pine from the Willamette hops.

The taste follows the aroma with caramel malts being the key player. Very strong and complex malt character, just like a Scottish should. There is one flavor note in this that cuts through the malts: iron. Like blood. Gross.

It's got a smooth body and the initial effervescence dies down after a sits a minute (as evidenced by the rapid dissipation of the head) which makes it quite drinkable. The aftertaste, thankfully, is slight, made up mostly of sugary malt sweetness.

It's really too bad that the one metallic note ruins this whole beer because I really enjoyed most everything else about it. But, like Brooklyn itself, it only takes one bad element to tarnish the entire beer's reputation.

Beer Advocate readers: B
Justin: C

12 Beers of Christmas: Bell's and Breckenridge Christmas Ales

Sorry I missed you guys yesterday. As it turns out, committing to do something every day requires, um, commitment. I'm making up for it today with a double dose of holiday hops.



Ah, Bell's. Creator of the famous Two-Hearted Ale, the highly demanded Hopslam seasonal, and the Oberon wheat ale (one of my summer favorites.) The brewer's reputation is beyond reproach, so was I ever surprised when I tasted this bland, boring, run-of-the-mill "Christmas Ale." In quotes, you see, because this is not really a Christmas ale or winter warmer at all: it's essentially an amber ale, which is strange since Bell's already has an Amber Ale.

According to the brewer's statement, Bell's set out to create a beer that "would stand apart from the array of spiced winter warmers that are typically introduced this time of year." No spices, no outlandish flavors, just Michigan-grown barley and hops. Am I the only person who thinks that it's a cop-out to call this a Christmas ale? If I had known what Bell's was shooting for, I would've left this one on the shelf.

As you can see in the photo, this beer is a rich amber color and a little cloudy. The head is off-white and medium thick. You can see the effervescent build-up on the side of the glass. The appearance of this beer would turn out to be the high point.

Holding the glass up to my nose, I get... nothing. OK, maybe not nothing, but not what I would expect from a Bell's product. Very slight hop aroma and a little bit of copper. Metallic. Mmm, totally makes my mouth water.

Now that I'm all warmed up to this, let's take a sip. Part of the mission here was to make this drinkable (a "session" beer), and at least that part was accomplished. At 5.5% ABV, I could probably take down quite a few of these. It drinks easily: subtle flavors of hops, citrus peel, and a hint of granny smith apple make it palatable, but the intense carbonation distracts, even detracts, from the taste.

Not much of an aftertaste - hops and a touch of leather - nothing that would cut into this beer's precious drinkability. It's too bad that all I'll remember about Bell's Christmas Ale is how many of them I'll drink in a row. Or not.

Beer Advocate readers: B
Justin: C



Two years ago I spent a week in Denver for the Democratic Convention. I don't remember many details from that week, primarily because a great percentage of Colorado breweries are phenomenal. New Belgium, Left Hand, Great Divide, Boulder Beer Company, Avery: these are no lightweights. Beer is a big, big deal in this state. As if to prove it, the governor-elect John Hickenlooper is the founder of Wynkoop Brewing Company, Colorado's first brewpub.

Breckenridge may not have the national profile or the celebrity factor, but they make some fine brews. I remember downing some of their Avalanche Ale during my time in Denver, a nice cold amber ale that washed away those hot August days. Yes, I was drinking in the daytime.

The Christmas Ale is Breckenridge's only winter seasonal, available in November and December. The brewers call it an "American strong ale" and it is strong at 7.4% ABV. Despite their self-classification, this is a pretty traditional winter warmer and not a bad one at that.

The pour reveals a beautiful, deep mahogany color. This beer is as clear as the mountain stream water used to brew it. What, they just use Denver tap water? Um, ok. The head was a complementary beige and somewhat thin. Just a gorgeous looking beer.

The malty nose was fainter than I expected, with hints of blackberries and mild spice. The taste followed the aroma, but with more robust caramel malts and spiciness, maybe even a little bit of red licorice. Its relatively thin mouthfeel and light carbonation make this an easy one to drink. Just remember this one's packing a punch, cowboy.

It leaves a very slight sugary aftertaste, and I really wish that this aftertaste is what I had gotten from the Anchor Christmas Ale I reviewed on Day 1. If that beer had this aftertaste, it would've been an "A-," maybe even an "A." Of course, if the Breckenridge had anywhere near the flavor profile of the Anchor, it would rate higher. And those guys at Breckenridge would be rich and up to their butts in medals.

Overall, this is a pretty good entry, but lacks a real standout flavor to carry it up to the next level.

Beer Advocate readers: B-
Justin: B

The 12 Beers of Christmas: Anchor Christmas Ale

My ladyfriend had been jonesing for the 2010 version of Great Lakes Brewing's Christmas Ale, and as any good man should, I scoured the city in search of this 4-time gold medal winner. I had heard that it was in high demand and short supply this year, but I didn't believe it until I struck out a handful of times trying to find it. I finally descended upon one of my favorite Columbus specialty booze retailers, Pace-High Carryout, where the victorious glow of Great Lakes Christmas Ale was eclipsed by a hand-scrawled note on the cooler door: "One 6-pack per customer." Since I couldn't stock up, I took advantage of Pace-High's charming "build-your-own-six-pack" cooler and cobbled together a variety of Christmas beers, winter warmers, and other year-end brews.

BEHOLD! THE TWELVE BEERS OF CHRISTMAS!!!

I will review one holiday beer every day through Christmas Day, starting with this venerable tradition from the Anchor Brewing Company.

Anchor's Christmas Ale (formerly known as "Our Special Ale") is a standard-bearer of the Christmas beer variety. 2010 marks the 36th brewing of Christmas Ale, with the recipe changing annually. Anchor changes the tree that adorns the label every year as well; according to this brew's marketing materials "Since ancient times, trees have symbolized the winter solstice when the earth, with its seasons, appears born anew." This year's tree is the ginkgo biloba, which may be fitting: this beer comes highly touted, but its merits are questionable when compared to the hype.

As you can see from the photo above, this beer is dark, something similar to an American brown ale as far as color, body and malt complexities go. Held to light, it doesn't appear very cloudy, but it's so damn dark that it's hard to tell. The head is a light tan and relatively thin: it dissipated while I was grabbing my notebook to jot down my observations.

This beer emits a strong aroma of dark fruits - especially cranberries and tart cherries - that dance within roasted malts and nutmeg. This just smells like a Christmas beer should, and it seems like it would be a perfect compliment to a well-brined roasted turkey or goose.

I take my first sip and it hits me like a tannin-rich red wine: sweet and bold, but with a sharp nuttiness. The fruit flavors take the lead, complemented by roasted malt undertones.

Seeing a beer this dark, I expected it to have a porter-like texture, but it's thinner and more delicate. Still, very smooth with little carbonation, almost velvety if it weren't so thin.

Unfortunately, after the bold, fruity body, you're left with a dry, bitter, almost medicinal aftertaste of roasted malt and citrus peel. A real disappointment since I was so impressed with this beer until the very end.

Beer Advocate readers give this an "A-" based on 163 reviews.

Justin gives Anchor Christmas Ale a solid "B."

The C^6 or: ConstantCommentChocolateChocolateChipCookies

A coworker recently suggested that we have a holiday cookie exchange at work this week. Always game for some baking I said I'd participate, but what to bring? I flipped through some recipes I had saved on my computer, but nothings sounded that amazing. I mean they're all good picks, but I'd made them all before and I try my best to not repeat a performance in the kitchen, regardless of the projects success of failure. There are just to damn many recipes in the world to shackle myself to one or two for all of eternity. So I was thinking about flavors and Googling random combinations of words when it hit me.

I suddenly recalled a few weeks prior when I'd been snacking on some chocolates and a cup of Earl Grey tea. While certainly no stranger to the delightful combination of citrus and chocolate I was struck by how exceptionally delicious this particular mixture was. For the rest of the day and maybe the day after I pondered further applications of these flavors. Earl Grey Hot Coco? Earl Grey Chocolate Cake? But was ultimately stymied in pursuing these ventures by my lack of Bergamont oil, the cornerstone of Earl Grey subtle yet sumptuous flavor. Not yet foiled I began to consider other similar combinations. Didn't Constant Comment also feature a bold citrus note? Did it not also feature a melange of spices that sang alto and tenor to the orange-y high soprano? And wouldn't a rich, booming, chocolaty bass note round out this gastronomic barbershop quartet?

With the idea in place I began to piece together the puzzle of this recipe. It would be a chocolate chocolate-chip cookie for sure, light on the chips, with the spicy, orange zing of Constant Comment hidden within. The cookie part was easy, a simple variation on basic cookie recipes, but unlocking the secrets to the spices would prove to be harder.

Consulting the side of the box and the Bigelow website was about as helpful as asking the Colonel for help in decoding the secret to chicken seasoning, or Mr. A-Cola for the secret to his coke recipe. "Black tea, orange, spices" were all the help they were going to give. I started to scour the Internet for hints or ideas as to what spices should be employed and more importantly in what proportions.

Any drinker of Constant Comment will note that the spices, while bold and assertive, never dominate the flavor of orange and tea, it's a very delicate balance that has been struck but the Bigelows are traipsing that tight rope with ease. My concern was both over and under spicing the cookies. Too much and the cookies would be ruined. Too little and, well, what was the point of digging through the spice cabinet?

Eventually I'd found a few recipes in which people had attempted to channel the flavor of Constant Comment into assorted pastries, primarily cakes. While the amounts and formulations for a cake batter and cookie dough would surely be different, the consensus amongst internet bakers and tea aficionados was that cinnamon and clove where the important flavors in CC, but how much was an entirely different story. Checking the recipes for a number of spice cookie recipes I soon noticed a trend in spice ratios. Specifically checking the cinnamon-to-clove rates it seemed that for every teaspoon of cinnamon being used there was usually about a quarter teaspoon of clove for a comparably sized recipe--that is to say 3 cups flour, 2 sticks butter, and sugars in a pair, tree. The only other component to quantify was the orange. What was the best way to get orange flavor into a cookie? My first thought was liquid orange extract with a boost from real orange zest. My shopping excursion failed to yield any such elixir, but from various web recipes I was able to determine that truly orange-y cookies required an orange's worth of zest or so. But the big, bad bass in these cookies was going to be brash and robust so timid little orange was going to need help making its voice heard along with all the other voices. I invited a friend along for the ride.

With all the players in place I set out to create my cookies, but would they turn out? Were this going to sing with the angels on high or would the be, "kinda pitchy, dawg"? I would soon see.

When I finally hit the kitchen, iPod ready to rock, this is the recipe I was packing:

Ingredients:
• 2¼ cup flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• ½ cup unsweetened cocoa
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• ¼ teaspoon cloves
• 2 sticks butter, softened
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1 cup brown sugar, packed
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• Zest of 2 medium/large oranges
• ½ bag dark chocolate chips

Directions:
• Preheat oven to 375
• Sift together flour, salt, baking soda, cocoa, and spices
• In the work bowl of a blender cream together granulated sugar and butter until light an fluffy
• Add brown sugar and continue to cream
• Once butter and sugars are well combined add the eggs one at a time followed by the vanilla
• Add orange zest and mix
• Gradually mix the flour mixture into the butter/sugar mix
• Once all ingredients are thoroughly combined stir in chocolate chips
• Drop by the tablespoonful onto parchment lined sheets
• Bake on center rack of oven for 10-12 minutes or until edges are slightly darkened and just set
• Allow to rest on pan for a minute before transferring to wire cooling racks

If the smell of the dough and the baking cookies were reasonable indicators, as so often they are, then I felt for sure I was on to something. And when the first sheet emerged from the oven and had cooled enough for consumption I was more than pleased with what I had wrought. One of the most interesting things that occurred during the prep, cooking, and eating of these beauties, though, was the dominance of the spices in the dough and the emergence of the orange in the finished product. Smelling and sampling some uncooked dough I was pleased by the spiciness. Cinnamon's tenor and clove's alto were harmonizing beautifully while chocolate did it's best Barry White, but sweet little orange, while on stage and belting its lungs out, seemed to have a bum mic. However, following an intermission in the oven and a second act on the cooling rack orange found its voice, dueling with chocolate for vocal supremacy while relegating the spice twins to the status of the Pips, Vandellas, or Miracles. No less important, just less recognizable

In closing I offer these variations for future applications of this recipe. Enjoy!

Options:
• Try using orange extract in lieu of vanilla for a stronger orange flavor
• Try using 1½ teaspoon of cinnamon and ½ teaspoon of clove for a more intense spiciness
• Try cocoa nibs instead of dark chocolate chips for a more bitter/sweet taste, 4-6oz should do