For a long time, it seemed as though I wasn’t meant to ever set foot in the Alibi Room. All of my attempts were poorly planned, and always resulted in arriving to locked doors. I left the city, and the Alibi Room, one year ago, and have long since dreamed of what actually happens in there. Their beer list is pure pornography, and therefore fits in nicely with the other things I look at on the internet. So, after a few attempted entries and plenty of virtual ogling, Vancouver Craft Beer Week comes out of nowhere (see: the well lubricated minds of a few dreamers) and gives me an opportunity to finally get inside.
The kick-off party for the week long event, “Hoppapalooza”, was as eagerly anticipated amongst beer nerds as Star Wars: Episode 1 was among real nerds. The Alibi Room is already a haven for the former, so the inclusion of free rein over the 10 casks and 25 taps, plus a bowl of chili (delicious BTW), in the ticket price was like giving a kid delicious chocolate milk to put on their already delicious Count Chocula breakfast cereal: a fucking great idea.
My plane landed in the harbour (on purpose) at 2:30, leaving me just enough time to hammer down a Japadog before arriving at the venue. Now, with strangely appointed sausage in my belly, I wandered with purpose towards destiny to help out with the setup. Help, I did not, but I most certainly watched the place get put together. Paul Kamon and the other organizers were attached to laptops and cellphones, communicating their asses off, while the staff did all kinds of heavy lifting. The CBC showed up to the party, so I had the opportunity to watch a real live news man do his thing in front of the camera, complete with non-regional diction. If that doesn’t sound interesting, then perhaps an exploding barrel of beer does? While a cask of something delicious being tapped there was a “SHAPAAAAAAAH” kind of sound, followed by laughter and some ricochet noises. A minute passed and the tapping process continued, and that’s when I heard a “SHPEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAW” sort of noise, this time accompanied by hooting, hollering, and hilariousness. Apparently that last one was the sound of a cask erupting serious amounts of foamy beer all over the guys who were tapping it. I felt sad for the wasted beer, but also relieved that I wasn’t the only one excited to be there. A once in a lifetime event wouldn’t be complete without some once in a lifetime sights and sounds now would it?
The organizers eventually put their devices down, and giving way to the most human vice of them all: grub. We all needed to put something down before we put some drinks down, otherwise the magnificent beer tasting opportunity ahead of us would be wasted, because, well, we’d be wasted. Luckily, Deacon’s Corner, is directly across the street, and is just the place to be eating when you’re soon to be drinking. I had a burger, fries, and the last water of the day. It was 5pm, 1 hour till show time, and we were officially satisfied with the grease primer we had applied to our bellies. Back to the Alibi Room to watch the team work feverishly to get it all together before the mayor showed up. That’s right. Clark Kent himself, Gregor Robinson, came by to tap the cask of VCBW’s very own beer, collaboratively brewed specifically for the event by Vern (Granville Island) and Iain (Mark James Group).
I prayed, for maybe the second time in my life, to witness another cask explosion (just for the story), but the damned thing behaved. Instead of tapping the cask and hitting the road, Mr. Mayor came to the party and actually partied. This was approximately as refreshing as the collabeeration, which for the record, was a “West Coast Belgian Ale”. It tasted like bubble gum, complete with some bubbles, and was the perfect beer to start a session to end all sessions.
It should be noted that I’m not blessed with social skills, so I spent the first hour surrounded by strangers while scanning the massive hand-typed beer list for whatever I would be drinking next. Fortunately, beer is capable of waking my ability to converse, and before I knew it (with some help from Paul) I found myself talking with Dave and Sam (Red Truck Brewing), and Ian (Driftwood Brewing). Big thanks to these folks for keeping me company and for answering my nerdy questions (there were plenty). My tasting glass in tow, I made at least a dozen trips to the taps, brushing elbows with a good chunk of the province’s brewing community. It didn’t take long for me to realize that if something were to happen, maybe a terrorist attack from one of the macro-breweries, we’d be fucked. I’m sorry guys, but you shouldn’t be allowed to gather. It’s far too risky, and we’re far too thirsty. One thing I learned about these guys, is that they’re extremely supportive of one another. Surely there is a competitiveness that goes with such a crowded marketplace, but any signs of ill will were well hidden. Being from the kitchen, I’m not used to seeing this sort of open adoration between rivals. You won’t catch me air-bowing for any restaurant other than the one I work at, but these guys were far less frugal with their air-bowing. That shit was going on all over the place. Maybe it was the beer. Whatever it was, it was nice to see.
Given the name of the event, hoppy beers were aplenty, but that’s not to say that there wasn’t room for some diversity. I entered that building feeling like I knew most of what goes on in our craft brew scene; a once over of the list taught me otherwise, as it was chock full of things I’d never even heard of before. Here’s what I managed to taste, in no order in particular. *’s go out to beer I found in casks.
Barley Station Brew Pub – Pale Ale
Conrad’s (Steamworks) - Ginger Beard
Deschutes – HopHenge Experimental IPA
Red Racer – IPA
Red Racer – ESB (twice)
Rogue – John John Juniper Ale
Rogue – XS Double Mocha Porter
Upright Brewing – 5
Upright Brewing – 6 (twice)
VCBW – West Coast Belgian
Driftwood – Belle Royale*
Central City – Roachapalooza*
Dave Varga’s (Red Truck) – Oaked 2 Lions Pale Ale*
Derrick’s (Dix) – Blood Orange Zest Grand Cru*1
All of that stuff was accompanied by some terrific blues, played from a makeshift stage atop some sort of supplies cabinet. Rich Hope was the fellow’s name, and if you get a chance you should check him out. Eventually, however, the music stopped, and the crowd thinned, leaving plenty of beer and space behind. I stuck it out until 11:30 or so, and slurring my way through some conversations until it became obvious that my work was done. I went into the night, a good friend in tow, looking for something to put on top of all that beer.
The availability of so many choices was not unlike being a kid in a candy store. While I typically believe that choice makes people miserable, I’m willing to swallow those words when it comes to a place like the Alibi Room. Owner Nigel Springenthorpe has done a fantastic job pioneering a joint for beer freaks to find whatever it is they need, without having to deal with big neon signs advertising the corporate swill that so many places choose to pour. Quite simply, there isn’t a bad choice to be had, only different ones. Missed opportunities quickly turn into good reasons for repeated visits, where you’ll find something new and great every time.
The whole point of the VCBW was to celebrate the bevy of high quality beer that is brewed within our vicinity, as well as the people who make it. The only way to keep it coming is by continuing to do what we do best, which is drink good beer. While there will always be room for more of the good stuff, it’s never been more clear that there just isn’t enough space for the shitty stuff. I urge you to keep your glasses full of only the finest, and while you’re at it, tell your friends to do the same.
What Would Jesus Drink? You guessed it: craft beer.
