Beer & Drink

It's not often that a man in a kilt sidles up to the bar in these parts, but I've had it happen once or twice. No need to ask him what he wants, rather you let him scan the scotches and let him decide what kind of mood he's in.
Just as the tartans on his man skirt are laced with intricacies that no Yankee would understand, so is his single-malt scotch rife with complexity. Over 80 distilleries line the countryside of Scotland, each adding its own little spin on the drink. It could be how they smoke the malted barley or the water that they add at the very end after distillation.

In a world in which Riedel Crystal uses science to create tulip-shaped fish bowls perfected to enjoy the delicacies of an Oregon Pinot and sexy hour-glass stemware flawlessly crafted so that neat spirits can scintillate one's palate, one must wonder why the latest cocktail glass craze isn't one of these modern-day marvels of craftsman, but rather a glass purportedly created as a replication of Marie Antoinette's perky A cup.

Most weeks, Microcosmos likes to keep our focus on Central Oregon, but a press release from our friends up at the Full Sail brewery caught our attention. The brewery announced this week that it's preparing to release its limited edition Black Gold cask-aged Imperial Stout.

Are you tired of arguing with your Portland friends about how Bend's beers can measure up to any of their city's brews? Well, now you've got some evidence, thanks to Saturday's Beer Olympics at Old Mill Brew Werks, which featured a series of blind tastings that paired Bend beers against their Portland counterparts in 10 head-to-head rounds.

About this time of year, I question why it is that bears get to be the hibernators of the great animal kingdom. Wouldn't we all be a lot more fit if, right after Christmas, we homo sapiens took one deep yawn that led immediately to four months of solitude and rest? We'd no doubt awake with a vigor that could only be explained by months of slumber, relaxation and absolutely no stress. But given that most human beings can't go more than a day without a visit to the restroom, hibernating appears to be out of the question. In the meantime, are you not what you imbibe? If so, perhaps ingesting a spirit that's been sleeping for years on end might just do the trick.

Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the New Year arrives during the bleakest coldest and oftentimes the most depressing time of the year. Christmas cheer can feel commercial and contrived.

Halloween is no doubt the best American holiday. It is impossible to explain to foreigners our passion for wearing panties in public with little ears and platform high-heeled shoes. Children love it because they get to wear costumes, go to parties, and of course, get plenty of free candy. Adults love it because it means getting to escape who they really are, drink until they are silly and hide behind a sexier, more tawdry version of themselves. Nothing is sacred on Halloween night, even Big Bird has been turned into a trampy female transvestite for the sake of having the snarkiest outfit of the evening.

The 21st birthday is the only occasion when even teetotalers hand their kids a 50-dollar bill and tell them to have the time of their lives. It's a day that most 21-year-olds have only a vague memory of, usually only because of a faint facial scar or a fake tooth they acquired during the celebration. It is the last rite of passage for adults in this country and definitely the most celebrated. Now you can drive, vote and drink in a bar. The freshly minted 21-year-old is fearless, with bright eyes and a shit-eating grin that screams: “I'm 21 and ready to take over the world!”

There are three distinct subsets of menu readers that diverge from the mainstream. These are people who regard the menu differently than other people – those who take it and show a distinct part of their persona by the way they handle a simple piece of paper with food descriptions and prices.

“You can stop training,” my coach said to me. “The contest is off.” I put down my weighted shaker, took my headphones off, wiped the sweat from my brow and looked up in disbelief.
The suicide drills between the kitchen and the bar, squats on full cases of beer, lunges with magnum Champagne bottles in each hand, and shaking drills have filled up my free time – and for what? There would be no Best Bartender Category this year in the Source's Best of Bend issue.