As I waited for a seaplane to carry me from the Victoria harbour to downtown Vancouver, I ate fish and chips in the rain and minded my own business until a stranger approached with a big hunk of metal and proceeded to tell both the stories of the metal, and how he came to be standing before me whilst holding said metal. He stood in the rain, completely unfazed by the wind and the fact that my lunch was winning almost all of my attention, and explained that he had just pulled the metal from the water, it was almost 200 years old, and it was definitely left there by either the Illuminati or the stone masons. Between this piece of metal being placed and him eventually finding it, he managed to travel around the world 4 times, marry 3 women, have a few kids, and retire in Victoria. He had a knack for releasing his life story from his face hole like water from a freshly cracked hydrant, and though it was interesting, I couldn’t help but care more about the plane and where it was taking me, the Vancouver Craft Beer Week. He would be the first and strangest of the many people I would manage to meet during my stay in Vancouver, all of whom were as enthusiastic about craft beer as he was about that hunk of iron.
Upon arrival, I was greeted by the same shitty weather that I hoped to be leaving behind, which fortunately wasn’t shitty enough to keep the plane from flying in the first place. I made a phone call and hopped on a train, and eventually found myself on Commercial Drive where your tireless Editor, Paul Kamon, swung by in his sweet chariot and delivered me from the rain to the Urban Diner lair, which would serve as home base for the duration of my four day eating and drinking extravaganza. I took a minute to change my costume and headed right back down to the Drive with food and beer on my mind. What followed is a wee bit blurry, but I’ll do what I can to show and tell you all about my VCBW experience.
St Augustine’s
When I find myself in a good restaurant, I’m known to order more than I can eat. My opportunities to be a customer are few and far between, so I forgo sensibility and almost always cram too much grub down my gullet. The same goes for a well curated beer list; I can’t help myself. So when I had 2 hours to burn on the Drive, I angled myself towards a seat at St. Augustine’s, who do a nice job of supporting craft beer by serving it exclusively. The selection varies from approachable, session worthy beers like Driftwood’s White Bark, to challenging and hard to find offerings like James from Storm’s Black Currant Lambic. Whether an indication of a problem or a past life as a beer hound, I don’t find much beer that I’ve never tried before, so I was both and amazed and impressed by their list that featured at least 10 beers that I had yet to sample. I held back and tried six. The figure would be alarming if 4 of them weren’t sample sized, which is always enjoyable because it makes me feel like a giant. The two highlights were Driftwood’s “Spring Rite”, a Belgian style Abbey ale made entirely with Vancouver Island grain, and also Crannog’s “Red Branch Irish Red Ale”. If those beers tasted like 10’s, then I’d be stunned if St. Augustine’s had anything that rated lower than an 8. Victoria, known for it’s alarming ratio of craft breweries to people, is starving for a similar concept. It’s worth noting that without the Alibi Room, St. Augustine’s may never have happened. It’s nice to see that the city is willing to support two such establishments, and I won’t be surprised to find out that more are on the way, and that they’ll be able to thrive as well.
Deschutes & Biercraft
Way back when Biercraft was still Stella’s, I took in a hockey game and tried to drink all their Belgian beer. Trappist ales and Lambics galore; Dubbels, Tripples, and Quadrouples as far as the eye could see – truly a place to worship beer. A while ago they adopted a new monicker, Biercraft, reinforcing their dedication to good beer through namesake as well as concept. With VCBW in full swing, I had the opportunity to revisit the newly coined Biercraft to attend their collaboration dinner with the Oregon Brewery, Deschutes, who are notable for quashing the ridiculous idea (I still don’t know where it came from) that American beer is inferior to Canadian beer. If it weren’t for a fateful six-pack of Mirror pond, I may still be lost in a sea of nationalistic craft beer bias. American craft beer is amazing, and there’s an absolute ton of it to try, which suits my need to taste new beer on a regular basis.
There was a section of about thirty people tucked away from the rest of the restaurant, all there to enjoy Biercraft’s food matched with Deschutes’ beer. Thankfully I had been set up to sit with “fmed” – a notorious Urban Diner forum member and an enthusiast of all things good in food and drink. Hands were shaken and names exchanged, and before long we found ourselves being addressed by both the brewery representative, Lance, and the Chef/Owner, Don. They explained the reason for the little container of whole cone hops steeping in water in the center of our table. Apparently they were the “Cascade” variety, used liberally in Deschutes’ brewing processes, and were the focal point of all of the food pairings.
The opening course played off the traditional pairing of oysters and stout, two flavours that compliment each other to the point where there are recipes for stout that include actual oysters. The stout, Deschutes’ Obsidian, and three preparations of oysters, baked, fried, and raw, mingled nicely together, providing delicious evidence of their storied compatibility. Up next came a tidy portion of Biercraft’s “poutine”: crisp frites smothered in “stoofvlees”, which is a traditional Belgian beer stew. The blatant richness of the combination was deftly severed by the sharp bitterness of Deschutes’ Mirror Pond Pale Ale. The tasty interpretation of the Quebecois classic was followed by a salad of greens, crumbled blue cheese, and citrus. The tasting notes of a classic northwestern IPA usually read like this: floral, pine, and citrus (often grapefruit, specifically). The large grapefruit segments served as illumination; it all finally made sense. The two are perfect for one another, and the blue cheese provided a welcome foil for the intense hoppiness tabled by the “Hop Henge Experimental IPA”. This is approximately the exact moment my body figured out just how many drinks I’d put back before supper, and was no longer advocating further involvement. I, however, become classically ignorant at this stage of intoxication, and forged onward without the blessing of my old friend “common sense”. Liberated from inhibition, I embraced the next pairing of glazed and roasted beef tenderloin atop corn puree with “hickory sticks”, and the Red Chair Northwest Pale Ale.
The Red Chair has yet to hit shelves in our part of Cascadia, but when it does I’ll be there for it. In terms of hop aggressiveness, the Hop Henge is a pitbull on amphetamines, the Mirror Pond a skeptical German Shephard, and the Red Chair a sedated Golden Retriever. It’s the perfect gently hopped session beer, pushing bitterness to the side and embracing the floral tendencies of the hop. As well as pairing well with the beef here, it should also work well with patios, decks, and porches. The king and queen of flavour country just might be peanut butter and chocolate, so it was nice to see them show up at the end of a very lovely beer dinner. The “peanut butter crunch bar”, chocolate crumble, peanut butter mousse, and dark chocolate ganache, was served with a malt ice cream they made with a wort reduction, and paired with Deschutes’ excellent Black Butte Porter. The prominent roasty flavours of the porter were a nice fit with the chocolate, and the ice cream conveniently saved the whole thing from getting lost in a sea of decadence.
This was but the second beer dinner in my life, and the first of two that I was to be taking in as part of VCBW. As with the first dinner, I was impressed both by the turn out, as well as the overall tone of the experience. There was education to be had if you sought it, while pleasure was clearly the point from the start. As quality beer becomes less of a surprise and more of an expectation, I fleetingly wonder whether the culture will ever descend into condescendence. I certainly hope this isn’t the case, and hopefully dinner’s like the one hosted by Biercraft and Deschutes will become emblematic of what a beer dinner should aim to be: modest, jovial, and delicious.
Thanks to “Fmed” for the company, Deschutes for the beer, Biercraft for the roof as well as the food, and VCBW for an excellent beginning to my trip. Stay tuned for part two of my VCBW adventures.
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Thanks for the company Jacob! The beer was delicious.