1. A Mid-Size Brewquet (Kitsilano or Kensington)
I mean sure I work for Brewquet so obviously I’m going to include a Brewquet on the list of best Father’s Day Gifts but professional obligations aside this really is the perfect gift for pops. Does Dad really want more crap that he’s gonna have to find a place for in the garage? Of course not, it’s already a nightmare in there. Do you think he needs clothes? What are you crazy? He’s already done his annual shop at Costco. No, what he really wants is a cold beer and some tasty snacks. Well give him one of these bad boys and he won’t be complaining I’ll tell you that for free.
2.A Small Brewquet (Main Street or Inglewood)
I know there’s already a Brewquet on this list but that one was a contractual obligation. This one is a personal recommendation. Don’t get me wrong, The mid-size Brewquet’s are fantastic but when you think about it who’s the star of the show? The beers, duh. Cut the fat and give dad what he really wants some quality beers.
3. A Large Brewquet (Gastown or Bankview)
I feel bad about that last recommendation. Sure the small Brewquet’s are perfect for a small thank you or an apology (Again Karen I’m so sorry, I hope you enjoyed the beers) but this is FATHERS DAY. A day to celebrate the man that raised you! He gave so much for so long and continues to give everything he has to this day and what do you do for him? The smallest possible version of the best ever fathers day gift? Screw that. Go all out. Chocolate bars, Nuts, Jerky, and of course 5 big ass bottles of beer. You think he’s gonna drink all that beer himself? No, as soon as it’s cold he’s cracking it and pouring you a glass to enjoy as you sit in the back yard and remember all the great stuff you’ve done together. Truly a beautiful moment only possible with Brewquet.
4. A New Tool or Something
Does he do woodworking? I dunno get him a planer? Most people don’t have one of those. He’s your dad figure it out.
And there it is. Darrince saves the day yet again. Any single one of these gifts would be the perfect gift and you hardly had to think about it. You’re welcome.
Love
-Darrince
]]>Ever wonder why that eight dollar beer you got at the 33 Acres came in a little wine glass instead of a regular pint glass and you realize you didn’t see the fine print saying that the “33 Acres of Euphoria” only comes in a 12oz glass and you’re super irritated that the bartender didn’t mention it before you paid but then again you also notice that it’s 9.2% abv so maybe 12oz is enough? Well, Darrince is here to save the day with a handy list of what all those weird glasses are called and what types of beer are supposed to go in them. That way if you ever get served a saison in a pilsner glass you can scoff in the minimum wage bartenders face and berate them for using a glass that inhibits aromatics and demand a refund like a real cool guy.
Pint Glass // Ales, Lagers, Stouts, IPA’s and literally any kind beer
You recognize this one. It’s the Black Keys of the beer glass world. They’re everywhere and I guess that's fine because there’s nothing really wrong with them but, I dunno, are we not bored of blues-rock yet?
Pilsner Glass // Pilsners, Lagers, Kolschs
A narrow glass allows more light to shine through, allowing the drinker to better appreciate the visual elements of the beer like colour, bubbles and head. However, the narrow shape will put one's nose outside of the glass when drinking which isn’t great for aromatic beers that taste better when also smelled.
Tulip Glass // Saisons, Double IPA's, anything with some stank
The opposite of a pilsner glass. The fanned out rim allows the drinker to really stuff their nose in the drink bringing out the aromatic qualities of the beer. Not sure why it’s up on a stem. Maybe it’s so the much wider glass doesn’t get a complex about being fat and also short. It’s ok little beer. Be yourself.
Growler // Anything you want aside from the small batch board
Why are you drinking in this stuffy old tasting room anyway? Go drink in a park with some friends. You know what's going on out there? Life. You’re missing out on life man.
Beer Can in a Paper Bag // Cheap an strong ya hear
If you put in a brown bag then when the cops see you drink it they don’t know its beer. It’s pretty simple dummy.
And that’s it! Every type of glass. If anyone tells you there’s another kind of glass they’re just being pedantic. What kind of asshole is going to be that particular about the names of glasses? Pretentious jerks.
Ok bye
-Darrince
]]>Tracy and Eric are Star Wars fans. Now I know that everyone is a Star Wars fan (If you’re pissed off by that assumption you’re the exception that is proving the rule) but Tracy and Eric are fans with a capital “F”. Conventions, cosplay, meet ups the whole shebang. They met at one such convention. Tracy was dressed up as a sexy Boba Fett and Eric was dressed up as a decisively un-sexy sex slave Leia. After a long conversation about the objectification of women in the original trilogy, the Ewoks as a clumsy metaphor for the Vietcong and which US president Palpatine was meant to be an analogue for they decided to stay in touch. Steve lived in Vancouver but Tracy in Seattle so they maintained a friendship consisting mostly of tagging each other in memes on Instagram and annual meetups at San Diego Comic-Con.
Eventually, Tracy had an opportunity to come to Vancouver. I won’t bore you with the specifics of Tracy's job because, ho-boy, it’s boring but they were opening a Canadian office and needed a representative to head up the new operation. It was a great career opportunity sure but although she never admits this to herself, much less anyone else, she was moving for Eric. They met in person for the first time in nearly a year and again hit it off. A week later she surprised him at the craft brewery he worked at one day with a pair of tickets to a marathon screening of the original trilogy at some indie theatre. “May The Fourth Be With You” read the tickets “A celebration of Star Wars”.
May the 4th, it was about as easy anniversary to remember as there could be and yet here she was staring at a text message that read “Keg cleaner shit the bed, going to be home late, don’t wait up”. She looked from the text back to the date at the top of her phone just to make sure it wasn’t her imagination. Star Wars Day wasn’t just their anniversary, it was a celebration of the very reason they got together in the first place. It was an opportunity to share the love they have for each other and the happiness they now have in life with countless others who have had their lives impacted in similar ways. To connect to something greater than themselves and pay homage to this powerful force that has connected so many people. And yet here we are. Maybe it meant more to her than Eric knew. Maybe it was naive to assume that someone else could care as much as her about something so trivial.
These thoughts were all swirling in Tracy’s head in a relentless loop as she arrived home from work. She buzzed herself into the building and took the elevator up to the apartment they shared, chucked her keys into the little bowl by the door and headed towards the kitchen with the intent of grabbing a beer when something caught her eye on the living room coffee table. A gift basket wrapped in a burlap sac sat carefully. “Brewquet” read the tag. She flipped it over, "I’m sorry I couldn’t get tonight off, I love you. -Eric”. Sitting beside the gift basket were two tickets fanned out carefully. “May the Fourth Be With You, day two, the prequel trilogy - May 5th 2018, Rio Theater”.
Obviously, as the delivery driver, I only saw that tag and all other details are just speculations but I have a real intuition for these things and I feel like this is probably about ninety percent accurate. I also have to assume that she left his ass and moved back to Seattle after enjoying those perfectly curated craft beers because the prequel trilogy is hot garbage.
Kisses
-Darrence
]]>
Strange Fellows - Popinjay Dry Hopped Sour
You’re driving a mustang convertible down a winding seaside highway, wind blowing in your hair. You take a moment to gaze at the ocean hundreds of feet below you and notice a wave. A reef break forming off the next bend of the shoreline is forming a perfect overhead barreling wave. You blink and the wave is no longer hundreds of feet below you but you are inside of it, surfing. A perfect right hand wave with no imperfections, you soak up the light of the sunset reflecting and refracting off the bending water in front of you as well as through the wall of the barrel to you left. Suddenly the wave picks up and the barrel closes in front of you and you’re swallowed up by the ocean. Normally the experience would be frightening but this time it’s peaceful. After a moment you open your eyes and notice you’re not underwater but instead in a field surrounded by peacocks. You gaze deeply into the eyes of the one nearest you and it returns the look with a deeply intelligent stare. In its eyes swirl the answers to all of life’s questions but when queried the bird could only return a loud squawk. Perhaps another sip will reveal more…
Powel Brewery - Ode to Citra Pale Ale
Grass tickles the sides of your head as you gently awake on a warm sunny afternoon. Before you can open your eyes a light breeze brings a citrus scent wafting over your face and unbidden a smile forms on your lips. Without stirring you carefully open your eyes to reveal the scene above you. The sun that beats warm rays gently down upon your previously snoozing body has been replaced by a gigantic mango that fills the sky above you radiating tropical heat. Instead of the white fluffy clouds that you might normally see on a day like float giant passionfruit moving softly on the breeze. One moves between you and the radiant juicy sun and you’re filled with the most refreshing feeling of contentment and satisfaction. You close your eyes again and fall gently back to sleep as citra hops dance gracefully through your dreams.
Bridge Brewing - Side Cut IPA
The trees whip past you on both sides as you rip down the steep moss covered mountain biking trail. Normally moving this quickly on such a technical trail would bring feelings of anxiety but today is different. Your body seems to move almost independently of your mind, anticipating every root and rock, making minor adjustments to compensate. As a result, even though the route is the most technical you’ve ever attempted it feels smooth and natural. Any trepidation is replaced by pure exhilaration. You burst out of the hazy trees into a clearing and come to a stop in front of the shuttle waiting patiently at the bottom waiting to bring you back to the top. And the mountain is a big peach or something.
Off The Rail - Raj Mahal India Session Ale.
I really don’t want to dip into cultural appropriation or insensitivity with this one so… I dunno, build your own flowery metaphor. Lemongrass, lime leaf, citra hops. Big Aroma. Subtle Flavor. It’s a good one I promise.
Storm Brewing - Pineapple Paradise Pilsner.
Pineapple. Do not fear. There is no escape. Life. Death. Existance. Infinity. All is pineapple. All that ever was. All that ever will be. There is no escape.
Anyway, I hope that helps you pick out a couple of new beers you might not of tried yet. Just to be clear Brewquet doesn’t necessarily include any of these within our tastefully curated gifts although I can personally guarantee that any beers we do include will be equally as if not more flowery metaphor inspiring.
Your good personal friend,
-Darrince
]]>Japanese culture has a very unique combination of two traits right now that make it perfectly primed for a hostile takeover of the craft beer industry leadership. The first of these is the deep-seated need to constantly prove that they are the best. Having been completely isolationist until relatively recently the people of Japan have a very proud self identity, so strong that it’s possibly verging on racism. Most truly believe, deep down, that they are the best culture in the world and with that, are determined to prove it at any and all opportunities. I heard a rumour (that, in all honestly, I have had a frustratingly hard time finding any concrete data on) that a disproportionately high number of the worlds best Italian restaurants are in Japanese cities. The story goes that a pair of guys from Tokyo moved to Italy, spent years training in the most prestigious schools, working up the ranks of the most revered restaurants and right as they were posed to become true Italian master chefs they bailed. They moved back to Tokyo and opened a Michelin rated three star restaurant and began an Italian food revolution.
This revolution took off because of the second reason Japan is right for a craft beer revolution. Japanese people love discovering and integrating and improving traditions ripped straight from other cultures. Because of the aforementioned extreme isolation, Japan’s hunger for new experiences is insatiable. Unlike other countries where the idea of a beer that isn’t the exact same pilsner that they’ve been drinking for six generations seems pretentious and gross Japanese people, by and large, are excited to embrace new ideas from other cultures. Its’ not just Italian food: Whiskey, Korean Food, Street Art, Jazz Music, god damn Christmas have all been accepted, even embraced as long as they’re improved on or mastered by locals. In my opinion (and I’m never wrong) Craft Beer is next. They’re popping up, slowly for now but very soon they will be taking over. It will be precisely brewed, inventive in ways you can’t imagine, and most importantly, better than whatever is going in your garbage town.
I feel like this has been an uncharacteristically earnest exploration of a legitimate topic so I’m sorry if you feel like you might have learned anything. I hope you trust me enough to know that this was still ultimately a pointless waste of time. And, if this is two years from now and you’re reading this as a crumpled up, saliva covered piece of paper you just pulled from you mouth and had no idea that I wrote for a beer blog in the first place, please understand, I still think you deserve it.
All my Love
Darrince
]]>Love is in the air. Valentines day is coming up quickly and if you haven’t found someone to spend the beautiful day with yet… well I dunno, It might be too late. I certainly would be a little freaked out if a stranger wanted to spend a romantic Valentine’s Day with me in about a weeks time. Anyway, if you were planning on springing some love on an unsuspecting potential partner there’s no better way than bribing them with some professionally curated craft beer as a lovingly arranged gift. May I suggest Brewquet? You’re already on the website so I assume you’re at least interested.
Contractually obligated promotions aside I really am excited for this coming Valentine’s Day. Despite my notorious cynicism, I have decided to attempt to put aside my reservations about this stupid holiday and celebrate it in earnest. It may have started as nothing more than an extremely transparent attempt by the church to supersede the pagan holiday of Lupercalia (A much cooler holiday, I’ll tell you about it sometime) but it transformed into something else over the years; an even more brazen attempt by capitalist society to replace the solum remembrance of some guy that burned to death with pink and red drenched excuse to sell chocolate, flowers and little greeting cards covered in hearts. Wait, no, be positive dummy. It has transformed into an excellent opportunity to express sincere affection for someone you care about in a socially acceptable and encouraged environment. Unlike the rest of the year when these kind of broad romantic gestures can be seen as annoying, cheesy or even creepy, Valentine Day is a weird opposite day when we are expected to show over the top affection because big business told us we have to.
Sorry, I just said I was going to try to be a little less cynical this year. I have a good reason to try and take it a little more seriously this time around. Yep ol Darrince has a bit of a crush on their hands. I met someone a week ago, Coffee Creator Cellony, and even though I spent the first part of the first paragraph explicitly warning about doing something like this I have a plan to win em over by Valentine’s Day. In the extremely unlikely event that they actually read this blog I’m keeping the proverbial cards close to my chest. BUT, mark my words. By this time next week I’ll be celebrating the terrible cheesy holiday in earnest with the rest of you losers.
Stay Tuned
Love might not be a myth.
-Delivery Driver Darrince
]]>
In regards to my failure to complete my, in all honestly, minimal weekly duties of creating some sort of blog post for the Brewquet website. I had every intention of completing it. The post was to be some of my finest work. The first part of a saga reimagining the tale of Moby Dick through the lens of the Vancouver craft beer scene. It was called “The Search For The Great White Ale. The tale was almost complete and I promise you it was truly my finest piece of writing to date but alas, through no fault of my own it will never see the light of day.
You see, my beloved employer, I was completing another aspect of this job you so graciously employ me for; carefully and professionally delivering a particularly well curated collection of craft beers, when something awful happened. Not to the Brewquet, no that was successfully delivered to it’s delighted recipient without incident. It was after the delivery was completed, on the way back to my vehicle I was distracted by a loud commotion from down the street. No sooner than I had turned my heard to investigate, a figure on a motorcycle dramatically drifted around the corner towards me with two black SUV’s in tow. One of the SUV’s had a damaged bumper as if it had just smashed through, I don’t know, bustling market place full of exotic fruit stalls and men walking around with big planes of glass, and the other had a man hanging out the window pointing some sort of machine gun at the cyclist (does the term “cyclist” refer specifically to bicycle riders or can it also be used for motorcycles?). The gunman opened fire and I dove behind my car to avoid getting hit by the hail of bullets raining down around me. Exactly what happened next I couldn’t exactly say as I couldn’t see the excitement from the safety of my hiding place but after a moment of very loud crashing noises and explosions everything went very quiet.
Once it sounded safe I peered around the side of my bullet riddled car to survey the scene. The SUV’s were both burnt out husks, one flipped on it’s roof and the leather clad motorcycle rider (see that doesn’t sound as good) was crawling down the street away from the burning remains of the bike. I rushed to the injured person to see if I could help.
“It’s ok” I said as knelt by their side. “It’s going to be alright” I unclipped the black mirrored helmet and pulled it off revealing a beautiful woman with flowing black hair and a long jagged scar running across her eye down her cheek.
“Please” She spoke with a thick Russian accent. “You must protect it.” From her pocket she pulled a small golden key.
“Protect it from who? What is it?”
“There is no time” She replied desperately, letting out small gasps of air “They’re… coming” She pressed the small key into my hand and let out a final gasp of air closing her eyes.
Anyway, long story short I ended up on an island in the middle of the pacific fighting Nazi’s who wanted to use a cursed soul of an ancient king to kick start a second holocaust and I didn’t have any cell service. I definitely was not split boarding in the backcountry for a week and shirking my duties. If anyone tells you that they’re probably an agent of the evil organization NAZAK.
It goes without saying that I have not completed this weeks blog post either and you will have to run something else. Good luck dear boss and hope you have a nice day.
-Darrince
Dear Darrince
I have never read such a bold faced lie in all of my life. I pay you every two weeks to write something, anything, to post on the blog once a week for SEO purposes. I give you very little oversight and an awful lot of leeway and you still fail. Maybe if you spent more time doing your job and less coming up with excuses you would be able to complete this incredibly simple task.
Put something up TODAY.
-Your EXTREMELY forgiving boss
]]>
New Years Resolutions, what a, inane concept that is. The idea that New Years in general is a celebrated holiday at all is unbelievable to me. What are we celebrating? The arbitrary day chosen completely at random to write 2019 instead of 2018 for the next rotation around the sun. It’s crazy. And crazier still, this idea that somehow this next rotation around the sun will be soooo profoundly different that you’ll be able to completely change some aspect of your life, at random just through sheer willpower. If Eric had the will-power to get into shape he would have done it by now. The registration date on his soon to be neglected gym membership isn’t going to change anything.
So to you dear reader I offer an alternative. If you absolutely must make a new year resolution do something that you can accomplish. Pick something that you already do but could easily focus on more. Stop doing something you hate just because society tells you it’s good. Pick something that could be done impulsively but irreversibly. You know what, I'll make it easy. Here’s a list of things. Just pick one of these.
Alright well the three of you who read this regularly (I see the analytics I know who you are) may have noticed a pattern in my posts since the beginning of my time here. Weird concept that seems unrelated to our service for the first three quarters of the post with a slap dash last paragraph that brings it all together and allows me to use get paid for doing my night school creative writing homework. This one is going to be different. If I handed this in to Ms. Karminski, she would be very confused and disappointed. Mostly because todays homework was regarding iambic pentameter and this post is going to be more of a public service announcement about the cut off dates for getting Christmas orders in and less of a rhythmic poem or whatever iambic pentameter is (I’m gonna fail this course).
So anyway, here we go.
LAST CALL FOR CHRISTMAS ORDERS
Tomorrow (December 21st) at 8am is the absolute last opportunity for Christmas orders. From the 22nd to the 27th I will not be schlepping through the wet winter holiday hell scape that the city devolves into just because you are a bad girlfriend and forgot to get something for Alex. He told me not to tell you what he got for you, so I won’t but, ho boy, you’re in trouble. I will however resume my schlepping on the 28th so If you want to send him an apology Brewquet for the terrible gift you end up getting him I can help you out then.
Anyways, Merry Season, Happy Festivities, Gladd Jule and whatever other seasonal greeting you subscribe to. See you on the other side.
-DDD
(P.S. Sorry Ms Karminski I’ll have your dumb poetry assignment done tomorrow. )
]]>
Of course the thing on everyone’s mind is the ritual feast. Honestly I could do without all of the bloodshed but upholding tradition is important. At least it ends with enough boiled deer to sustain the hamlet for several moons. Of course, before the feast can begin, toasts must be made to the Gods, all-mothers and the great and mighty King. Toasts such as these are far from a chore but it still it never hurts to have a couple hearty ales sloshing around inside to ease the nerves and lighten the spirits in these grim and cold months.
Nothing is worse than a dry ritual feast. If you can find the goodwill inside to help thy neighbour avoid such a fate it can be kind to provide some libations. But what a hassle! Gearing up an Ox to trudge through the winter cold all the way to the nearest market, haggling with the brewmaster and finally making the long journey up the mountain to the Donnerberg’s (who insist that living up there is worth it for the views but come on). Who can spare the time, we all have stables to muck. So this Yule, save yourself the effort and hire Brewquet, the best way to make this mostly awful season a little easier.
]]>my favourite customers,
Brewquet purchaser’s.
Some of my blog post’s
have seemed a little half-assed
and I really need this.
Sorry, I digress.
This should be about craft beer.
What more can be said.
All lovingly brewed
Carbonated perfection
Bottled and packaged.
Sometimes by my self.
Sometimes by other people.
Sometimes I do this.
Delivering joy.
Transferring love and beauty,
never receiving.
I can only hope
as I type these weird haiku’s
that my boss wont read.
Always Yours
-Darrince
]]>Did you feel that? The clock struck midnight of Hallows Eve and something changed. It might be hard to notice at first. Small things will start happening, maybe a single carton of eggnog will appear in the milk cooler, but the big changes aren’t far behind. Themed drinks at Starbucks, gaudy decorations in department stores, those craft beer advent calendars will start appearing in the beer stores. Yep, that season has come already.
It’s not any of our faults really. It’s the absence of a marketable November holiday that has done this to us. The only thing stopping corporations from shoving Santa Claus down our throat in October is that the green and red ribbons would clash with the orange and purple Halloween decorations. Without that spooky sentinel bravely guarding the tenth month who knows how far back Saint Nick’s infection would spread.
I personally don’t consider the holiday begun until I hear Felice Navidad on the radio without looking for it. It comes down to the wire every time but I cant fathom pretending to enjoy Christmas music for more than a few days. Don’t lie to yourself. If it's so good, why do we only listen to it around at this time of year? How do I keep my sanity and avoid getting sucked into the vortex of forced smiles and ugly sweaters you ask? Two simple rules. Sort out presents ahead of time and avoid the hell hive of jolly spirt that is the modern strip mall at ALL COSTS.
It might seem hard but I’m here to tell you there’s hope. You might not be ready but I’ve trained for this. Send me in your stead. Order a Brewquet and skip the Holiday shit storm.
I believe in you and love you very much.
-Darrince
]]>
Hours of careful plodding pass without incident. A few burnt out husks of buildings, some more withered tree trunks but then, just when you’re preparing for your periodic crisis of determination you see it. Off in the distance, through the dust clouds and orange evening sunlight, an oasis. A single patch of green, the first non beige thing you’ve seen in years. You forget about the straps digging into your shoulders and the blisters on your feet. From deep within comes a special reserve of strength and hope propelling you forward.
It’s the fastest you’ve gone in a long while but time still seems to crawl. Pushing forward it becomes clear what you’re working towards. A hill covered in trees, green leaves rustling in the constant breeze, looms ahead growing ever larger but somehow impossibly far away. Until all of a sudden you arrive and you see what you couldn’t bear to hope for. A creek, a single perfect babbling brook. If it weren’t for the dehydration surely tears would be streaming down your face.
The backpack falls from your shoulders and rushing forward you plunge your hands into the water. The coolness is such a foreign sensation it’s almost painful at first. As quickly as they found the water your hands pull out, cupping the precious liquid. Greedily, you drink from them spilling half of their contents down your filthy shirt. Desperate for more you reach in for a second drink and your hands brush against something unexpected. You pull it out of the stream and look at it. A stainless steel bucket, perfectly preserved by the rushing waters and something else hidden below. It’s been so long since you’ve seen something like this it takes a moment to remember what it was for.
Hands shaking you gingerly pull it free from the rocky creek bed. A bottle opener, the perfect representation of how life used to be back then. Imagine that. A time when opening a bottle of beer was such an inconvenience that we would need a special tool designed specifically for this singular purpose. You turn the thing over in your hand and see an etched engraving on the wooden handle. BREWQUET. Now you really do cry. You may not know what it means but it reminds you so vividly of a time before. Truly a priceless relic, you vow to carry it with you for the rest of your days as a memento of this beautiful moment.
Add a custom bottle opener to your Brewquet order today for only $7! Also included in all “Gastown” and “Bankview” Brewquets.
-Delivery Driver Darrince
]]>
We’re very excited to announce that we have an exciting new announcement to announce. Actually I may have over sold that a bit. We’re moderately excited to announce that a member of our team has expressed some amount of interest in running the blog section of our site from now on. Apparently this is a life long dream of theirs which is great because it’s a life long dream of mine to not run a blog anymore. It’s my pleasure to introduce Darrince the Delivery Driver. Take it away Darry.
Thanks Un-named Brewquet executive! I can’t wait to get started on this journal. I literally can not wait. I won’t wait. I’m doing it now.
As the season of the sun wanes darkness consumes us all
The days are getting shorter, the nights are getting colder and the house decorations are getting decidedly spookier. Seriously spooky, delivering all these Brewquets got me on edge. I don’t know how all those kids muster up the courage to walk up past zombies and ghosts and demand candy from houses of people who are obviously psychotic murderers based solely on how they decorate. And whats with all the spider webs this time of year? Do spiders always make this much web and people have just been taking a break from cleaning it up or is it like spider mating season and all the dude spiders are all compensating with their web size to show off to all the chick spiders. I dunno it keeps me up at night.
If there’s any consolation to all the weird stuff going on It’s that dark beer season is upon us! Nitro Milk Stouts, Pumpkin Spice Winter Ales, Octoberfest Lagers, Orange Dunkels! The list of heavy dark beers with long weird titles is positively daunting this time of year. It’s easy to look up at the ridiculously extensive airport style LED beer list at Parallel 49 and get more scared than me having to walk past a bunch of mutilated burning pumpkins at every single house (WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!). I believe in you though. Sit down with a friend, order a couple flights and figure out what the hell the difference is between an Octoberfest Pumpkin Lager and a Chocolate Pumpkin Porter. They both have pumpkin in the name how different can they be?
After you’re done and you’ve gone home and barricaded yourself away from all the terrifying colourful explosions going off in the streets (IS THE PURGE REAL? IS MURDER LEGAL NOW?) Think back on all the delicious beers you drank, log on to your computer and send your friend some sort thank you gift basket for the great day the two of you shared despite the fact that society is obviously collapsing and that this is the end of the world apparently.
Just do me a favour though and whatever you order, make sure it isn’t a Brewquet. I don’t want to go outside.
Love
Delivery Driver Darrince.
[Editors note: I would like to point out that Darrince, who apparently has never heard of halloween, does not build the Brewquets themselves. We actually have an in-house Cicerone hand selecting local beers and who can absolutely tell the difference between an Octoberfest Pumpkin Lager and a Chocolate Pumpkin Porter (It’s honestly a pretty huge distinction). I’d also like to take this opportunity to mention that we have other delivery drivers who are not afraid of ghosts and will happily deliver your orders at this time of year. Please don’t stop ordering. We are very grateful for you business. That is all]
]]>Did you notice we dropped off the blog and email game? Probably not because we haven't been blogging or emailing you!
It's all about to change. We've been busy creating all kinds of new content and brand partnerships with your inbox in mind. That's right, you're going to be hearing from us more frequently.
]]>Cheers to Andrew Morito-Karn for the assist.
]]>Here’s the thing about Dads.
They carried you on their shoulders.
They threw you way too high in the air.
But they always caught you.
Unless you were in a pool…
Then they’d let you splash on in.
Dads make bad jokes.
Or great jokes…I guess that’s a matter of opinion.
Dads help you with homework.
Help you colour inside the lines.
Help you learn when it’s time to say “forget the lines, I’m colouring here.”
When you move homes or apartments or basement suites,
If they’re able, Dads will pack boxes and lift furniture.
Sometimes they lift things they have no business lifting and throw their backs out.
Throwing your back out is such a Dad thing.
What I’m trying to say is, Dads celebrate you.
They celebrate by throwing, joking, colouring and lifting.
That’s the thing about Dads.
]]>Doug Smith in all his glory.
Here’s a story my beloved Uncle Doug told me about his Mom (my Grandma)
“In the spring and summer she spent a lot of her day out in the garden. Well, when I was in school I’d get home just about the time she was ready to crack a beer. Sometimes it was an Old Style (they call it “Pil” now) or Labatt’s light when it first came out but what she really loved was Olympia.
I’d get home after a hard day at elementary school and she’d send me into the house to get my little A&W root beer mug and she and I would sit on the deck and “spilt a beer”. Well not really because my wee mug only held a couple of sips.
When I was a little older the glass got bigger and we really would spilt a beer. It was our mother/son time and I remember it fondly.”
I love this image of a young guy hanging with his Mom, having a sip of her beer from his own tiny mug.
Mother’s Day is this Sunday.
You know this already.
Every brand’s newsletter and Facebook ad has been reminding you for the past 3 weeks.
Are we any better? Of course not.
There’s still time to order a Brewquet for delivery tomorrow.
Be like Doug, split a beer with your Mom.
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This is my Grandmother, Joyce Smith, drinking a beer.
Why am I showing you this picture? Because Mother's Day is coming up and, like every other business, we want to capitalize on the occasion.
We want you to spend money on our website. Shocking. Here's my pitch.
This is a list of things people will be giving to Moms on May 13, 2018:
Your Mom is the best. Without her, you wouldn't be here reading this crappy blog post. She deserves more than that card with the preprinted message.
Give her a Brewquet. That woman deserves a beer.
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Drinking a beer can be extremely complicated, especially if you find yourself in the presence of snooty, "advanced" and knowledgeable drinkers. With the beer scene in Canada rapidly becoming more pretentious, encounters with “advanced” drinkers are increasingly probable.
If you’re drinking at home alone, pick any clean glass. If you’re ordering at a brewery, request a tulip glass. Then look to your drinking buddies and knowingly state, “The tulip glass helps me pinpoint the more delicate aromas.”
When your beer is served, don’t drink it (duh). Instead, make obvious statements about the colour. Here are a few examples to get you started:
“Lovely colour!”
“It’s much more golden than I expected.”
“I’d like to see this hue in a better light”
Continue to refrain from drinking your beer. Instead, you’re going to smell it. There are several techniques but as long as you sniff your glass with confidence in at least 2 different ways, you’ll look like a pro. Try giving the glass a swirl or running it under your nose in the “drive by” fashion.
Next you will want to make statements about what you have smelled in your glass. The more obscurely specific, the better. Again, here are some examples:
“I’m getting notes of freshly cut grass”
“There’s a hint of rubber with just a touch of banana”
“The aroma is subtle but not unlike movie theatre popcorn”
We’re finally ready to taste our beer. Make a big show out of taking your first sip. You can even go as far as closing your eyes. Take in just enough to coat your mouth. Let it hit your lips, gums, teeth, and all around your tongue. When you swallow that sip, keep your mouth closed and exhale through your nose.
Now it’s time to make your statements about what you’ve tasted. Some common flavours are citrus, nuts, toffee, caramel, and coffee. Don’t be afraid to get creative with your tasting notes. Identifying “peppery” or “jammy” flavours will make you the king of the obnoxious drinkers.
Finally, now that you have proven to the table (or perhaps your cat if you’re drinking at home) that you are an expert in all things beer, you can relax and actually enjoy. Continue to drink your beer in whatever fashion feels comfortable.
Cheers!
]]>"It will be great for your website," they said.
Well folks, here it is. The official Brewquet blog.
Have you been asking for it? No.
Will it be crap? Likely.
The only thing we're hoping to get out of this "blog" is to add extra buttons to our occasional newsletter.
Enjoy!
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