Halloween Crush

I abhor orange-flavoured pop.  Every brand I've ever tried tastes bitter to me.  Like medicine, artificially flavoured to make it more palatable.

My husband is my polar opposite in this respect.  He loves orange pop.  It's his beverage of choice, and he seems so disappointed when it isn't on a menu.  I can usually ignore this character defect.  But when I noticed him carrying a bottle of Orange Crush recently, I saw something I couldn't ignore.

It appears Orange Crush has been transformed, at least temporarily, into Orange-O-Lantern Crush.

Never in my life had I wanted so badly to like, actually like, orange pop.  But it seemed impossible.  So I hurried to the nearest store.  If the orange flavour had been transformed, maybe Crush had similarly altered its Grape, Lime, and Cream Soda flavours . . .

And indeed it had!  Lime, Grape and Cream Soda had become "Slime", "Gruesome Grape", and . . . . "Blood Cherry"?  Apparently there was no way to make Cream Soda sound spooky.  So of course, I scooped up one of each.  Relieved that I didn't have to subject myself to the horrors of Orange Crush.

Gruesome Grape is my personal favourite.

of fishing towns and crystal skulls

I had long since given up on the possibility of finding the elusive crystal skull of vodka at my local liquor store.   I had buried the resentment I felt that vodka made in Newfoundland was unobtainable just one province away.  I had overcome my bitterness that Dan Ackroyd, Canadian Dan Ackroyd, had not stepped up to ensure that this product with which he was associated, was readily available to all of his fellow countrymen.
 
And then I walked into the liquor store in Digby.

I found myself in Digby on a recent fall weekend road trip. And as on any road trip, a visit to the local liquor store is an absolute necessity. When I saw the display standing prominently in the centre of the store, I was surprised.  But merely assumed that it was finally being made more widely available.   Not so, said the clerk.  This vodka would not be found at any other liquor store in the region.   It was obtained specifically for this location.  So what makes Digby special?   The occasion, each Labour Day weekend, of the Wharf Rat Rally.    Apparently there's nothing bikers love more than crystal skulls of vodka, and a supply is ordered especially for the event.  I suppose I should feel fortunate that there was some stock left over.

And now, I am gradually working on emptying my new possession.  Nothing quenches the remnants of bitterness and resentment like vodka from a skull-shaped bottle.

All is forgiven, Mr. Ackroyd.

pumpkin chai

It may have been the cover photo on the brochure that drew me in.

I've been needing to replenish my tea supply for a while now, and Davids' new fall list gave me the motivation to do just that.Pumpkin Chai is described as tasting of "Cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, plus the sweetness of caramel and pumpkin candy."  I can attest to that.  This tea may surpass pumpkin ale (of which I have found few that I truly enjoy) on the list of my autumn beverages of choice.

But it still lags slightly behind pumpkin spice latte.

something old, something new

It's that time of year again.  When I begin to scan the magazine shelves regularly, looking for that first smiling jack-o-lantern staring back at me.  So far, there have been only a couple of autumn offerings to tempt me.  And then, as anticipated, the first true sign of Halloween.

I greet the appearance of this magazine each year with mixed emotions.  I know it's filled with cutesy crafts and recipes recycled and modified only slightly from year to year.  I couldn't begin to count how many versions of the Rice Krispie jack-o-lantern I've encountered in my lifetime.  But as I stand there in the grocery aisle, it is unfailingly the first glimpse of a Halloween magazine that I receive every summer.  And I can't resist it.

So maybe it's just me.  Maybe this summer's incessant rain is making my brain soggy.  Or maybe it's simply a result of my diminished expectations.  But this year's offering seems to be a modest improvement over recent years.  Particularly in the beverage section. 

This cider is at the top of my list if the Valley's apple crop survives the summer.

And if September's weather turns out to be warmer than August's (as it sometimes does) I may opt for a cold smoothie instead of hot cider.

Yes, as I eagerly turned the pages, I was impressed with several of this year's recipes.  Maybe there has been a conscious effort on the part of the magazine's producers to add some variety and freshness to their standard repertoire. Or maybe I'm still giddy from that first glimpse of orange.

a beer by any other name . . .

So while planning the drive back to Nova Scotia from Tarrytown, it seemed best to break it into two days. Sixteen hours of non-stop driving wasn't terribly appealing. And completely contrary to the word "vacation". So I booked a hotel in a spot we've visited often and always enjoy. The town of Rockport on Cape Ann in Massachusetts. And since the drive took us within five minutes of Salem, it was unthinkable that we wouldn't stop for a visit. Salem in July is a completely different experience than Salem in October. Much quieter. Much warmer. Much less Halloween in the air. But it is still a lovely little city and we enjoyed our afternoon wandering around the streets and shops.

There was more, however. I had an ulterior motive for stopping in Salem. On our last October visit, three years ago, we ate at the Salem Beer Works. And whilst devouring our nachos, onion rings, and chicken wings, I noticed that the brewery had its own line of Salem/ Halloween themed beer. I was beyond excited. What was more, they were available in bottles that could be purchased at the adjacent brewery store. Perfect. Or so I thought. Sadly, my joy was short-lived. I had made this discovery on a Sunday. The beer store was closed on Sunday. And we had to leave early the next morning.

Someday, I promised myself . . . someday . . .

And finally, "someday" had arrived. "Someday" was now. After wandering the city, we all converged at the statue of Samantha in a town square and made our way to the beer works.

Irish for a day

I've just been reminded that tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day.





Time to get out my green-beer-drinking t-shirt.

success!

So upon my return to the specialty liquor store to pick up the bottle of Ghost Town stout which I had so callously rejected on my previous trip, I discovered that I was incorrect about its origin. It is not produced by the same New Brunswick brewery responsible for the mediocre Dark and Stormy Night, but by a Quebec brewery called Brasseurs de Montreal.

Furthermore, it appears that my local liquor store has entered into some sort of seasonal beer pact with Quebec breweries. Because suddenly, there were several Halloween themed bottles from which to choose. Many with names that required all my powers of high school French to translate. So nice to see my favourite liquor store branching out.

I walked out of the store with Ghost Town. And Corne du diable. And St. Ambroise Pumpkin Ale, which had been recommended to me by a fellow blogger, but which until this year, I had never seen on the shelves.

Yes, it was quite a day.

As expected the Ghost Town was very . . . stout. But pleasant. And filling. In fact, it would make a nice autumn meal all on its own. I may need to revise my previous opinions of stout. The Corne de Diable was bitter and almost undrinkable. But the St. Ambroise Pumpkin Ale . . . The St. Ambroise Pumpkin Ale was fabulous. Finally! After years of fruitless searching. Years of dashed hopes. Years of crushing disappointment. Finally, a pumpkin beer that tastes as a pumpkin beer should. With autumnal flavours of pumpkin and nutmeg and allspice and a wonderful cinnamon aftertaste.

My dreams have come true.

it was a dark and stormy night

Dark and Stormy Night lived up to its name. It was certainly dark. And if "stormy" means a sour aftertaste, it succeeded on both counts. Suddenly, the pumpkin ale isn't looking so bad.

But at least I have a new bottle for the collection.

new bottle, same beer

During the past two Octobers, I have documented my at first, futile, and finally, unsatisfactory, search for a pumpkin-flavoured, or otherwise Halloween-themed beer in my city. The sole pumpkin beer I was able to find was Propeller Pumpkin Ale, produced by a local micro-brewery. And it was a disappointment.

But with October upon us once again, I decided to give it a second chance. Perhaps, I reasoned, it is an acquired taste. One which I wasn't able to acquire with just one tasting. And ultimately, I realized it would be the only pumpkin beer I would likely get this year. Yes, it deserved a second chance.

I made my way downtown to the specialty liquor store. Because you can't just buy pumpkin ale anywhere around here. And I was pleasantly surprised. Either Propeller had increased its production of pumpkin ale this year or my timing was impeccable. Because when I walked into the store, I was confronted by a four-foot-tall display of Propeller Pumpkin Ale. And in larger bottles than last year. Yes, it definitely deserved a second chance. If they had changed the bottle size, they may have changed the contents. So I purchased a bottle. Just one. No need to be overly optimistic.

And rightly so. New bottle. Same beer. The only hint of pumpkin I could detect was the picture on the label.

But there is still hope . . .

While in the liquor store, en route to the pumpkin ale, I carefully scanned the shelves, alert for any new seasonal additions. There were two. Both from a New Brunswick brewery. One of these I bought. Dark and Stormy Night. Who could walk away from a name like that? It will be opened tonight, as accompaniment to this week's classic horror movie. The second beer, however, I did walk away from. Ghost Town. A stout. I'm not fond of stout.

But no sooner did I walk away than I began to chastise myself. How could any self-respecting Halloween enthusiast walk away from a beer called Ghost Town? Stout or not. What was I thinking? So if the Dark and Stormy Night proves pleasant, or even if it doesn't, I will have to return. Before the end of October. To the abandoned Ghost Town.

dark and spooky and Irish

While I will be observing the time-honoured tradition of drinking green beer on St. Patrick's Day, it likely won't be Guinness. First, because green food colouring would be barely noticeable in a pint of Guinness. Second, because my tastes do not lean toward darkness. At least not in the realm of beer. However, if these coasters were available at my local pub, I might have to change my mind.

classifieds

So I'm quietly sipping a rum and eggnog and flipping through the free glossy magazine that my liquor store gives away to entice me to buy more liquor.

As I turn the pages, contemplating the recipes within, my eyes suddenly fall upon the words "hell" and "death reaper". Intrigued, I read further.



A clever spin on the seasonal "don't drink and drive" reminders.

just one more

I think I have a problem.

I have just returned from Superstore with yet another container of President's Choice Key Lime Sherbet. I fear I am well and truly addicted.



My story begins in the last frenzied days before Halloween. I had invited friends for dinner on the 30th and decided to try out a recipe I had noticed while flipping through an old Halloween magazine. A recipe entitled Witches' Brew.

As it turned out, there was more food for dinner that evening than anyone could realistically eat. So the Witches' Brew was put on hold. Until Halloween night. That night, when we were invited to a neighbour's house after the trick-or-treaters had gone home, Witches' Brew seemed the perfect accompaniment. The amounts of ingredients listed seemed small, however; not nearly enough. I quadrupled them, and added vodka, like so:

Milk - 4 cups
Key lime sherbet - 4 cups
Frozen lime juice concentrate - 1/2 cup
Vodka - whatever feels right

As I hurriedly mixed the ingredients with the blender, I was somewhat surprised and annoyed that the key lime sherbet was white. I had expected green. Lime green. Bright green. Witchy green. Who knew that President's Choice had eliminated artificial food colouring from its line of Blue Menu products? Just when I needed it most. Even with the addition of the lime juice concentrate, it had the distinct appearance of Colgate Winterfresh toothpaste.

No matter. It tasted great. And the presence of vodka more than compensated for its less-than-witchy appearance. Two litres of Witches' Brew disappeared quickly that evening. But I wanted more. And it wasn't just the vodka talking. Upon reflection, I realized that what I really wanted most was the key lime sherbet.

It's shockingly addictive. And delicious with cranberry mincemeat.

Now, as I open another container, I console myself with the knowledge that there are far worse things to be addicted to. And the knowledge that Superstore is only ten minutes from my house.

a beer for Halloween

Anyone who was reading my blog at this time last year may recall my futile quest for local Halloween beer. After a fall trip to the United States, where I was able to choose from several Halloween-themed offerings, I returned home lamenting the lack of such specialty beer in my province.

And then I learned that a small local brewery was producing a pumpkin ale. Local pumpkin ale made with local pumpkins. I was ecstatic. Off I went to pick up a bottle. But there wasn't a bottle to be found. It seems I was not the only one with a desire for Halloween beer. Propeller's Pumpkin Ale had sold out as quickly as it had appeared on the shelves.



So as this October crept closer, I plotted my strategy. Noticing a Propeller Brewery rep at a local harvest festival in September, I approached him with questions. Or more specifically, with one question: when might I buy some pumpkin ale? He was evasive. He hoped it would be available on October 1st. No guarantees of course. Apparently you don't need guarantees when you produce the only pumpkin ale available within a day's drive of the city.

When October 1st arrived, I was optimistic and went in search of the promised ale. The beer was indeed ready, they said. Unfortunately, there was a problem with the labels. Check back next week.

I didn't like where this was going. Memories of last October haunted me. Still I remained hopeful. Surely a happy ending was within reach.

Walking into the liquor store the following week, I glanced around tentatively. And there, off in the distance, on a tall central shelf, a row of bottles with jack-o-lantern labels sat grinning at me.



Victory was mine. And it tasted . . . mediocre.

Which merely reinforced my conviction that I like beer labels more than I like beer. And the bottle does fit in nicely with my growing collection.



Still, I cling to the hope that the perfect Halloween beer is out there. Somewhere. In fact, I just heard that Propeller's competitor, Garrison Brewery, has produced an Octoberfest beer. Perhaps I'll pay them a visit.

long week's journey

Once again, those intrepid souls at Canada Post have successfully completed their mission. Sort of. Delivering a package from Quebec to Nova Scotia, across the vast province of New Brunswick, would take time. I knew that. So I waited. And I waited. And I waited. And when it seemed like I'd been waiting a ridiculously long time, I tracked the package.

Imagine my surprise. It seems it hadn't taken it that long to arrive after all. It was here. They just hadn't bothered to tell me. Kudos on another job well done.

And thank you Pumpkin Brain for your contribution to my small but expanding collection of Halloween-themed beer label art. They'll fit in beautifully.

gifted

Day after day, I made the trek halfway down the street to my mailbox. Trusting naively in the efficiency of Canada Post. Believing that their delivery estimate was a worst-case scenario. Surely it wouldn't take that long. I could drive to Toronto and back at least eight times within that time frame. If I didn't need sleep.

And then one day . . . there it was.

Quickly shutting the mailbox door, leaving the bills for another day, I dashed back to my house. Parcel in hand. And eagerly began to tear it open with my bare hands. It wasn't long before I was faced with a hard truth. Bare hands don't work well on multiple layers of packing tape.

Returning from the kitchen with sturdy scissors, I continued the task. I successfully removed the outer layer of packaging. Only to reveal . . . more packaging. And it warmed my heart to know that my parcel was so safe and secure and well-protected on its long arduous journey. But now the protective coating had to go.

Finally, a glimmer of hope. After cutting and tearing and cutting and tugging and cutting, the package began to reveal its contents.

And there at last it stood before me. Shiny and metallic and colourful and much taller than I had imagined.

Perhaps at this point, I should explain.

Months ago, in the dead of winter, I began rambling about Halloween-themed beer and my love affair with the imagery that frequently graces the bottles. I came to the conclusion that it wasn't actually the beer itself that appealed to me, but rather, the labels. I felt I'd be perfectly happy to have someone keep the contents and simply send me the container.

And someone did.

Fellow blogger, Ghoul Friday, very kindly packed up and sent me an extra container she had in her possession. And packed it very well, I might add.

And that wasn't all. As an extra surprise gift, I also received this nifty Silver Snail Comics bag. Thanks GF! I love that store. How did you know?

cold

I was walking past a local wine merchant today when something in their window caught my eye.

With a name like that, I couldn't resist buying a bottle. Especially in light of the 15cm of snow that fell, like some sort of a cruel atmospheric April Fools' joke, on my deck chairs and freshly-raked yard.

At least it helps keep the wine chilled.

it's all about image

I've had an epiphany.

Last week, following the purchase of my first Wychcraft beer, and subsequent discovery and admiration of the brewery's line of themed beers and ciders and their accompanying imagery, I realized something.

It isn't about the beer at all.

I'm not even terribly fond of beer.

And while I do believe I would enjoy a true pumpkin ale with it's lingering aroma of nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon, most of the "pumpkin" or "Halloween" beer I have had the opportunity to try has been mediocre, or at best . . . acceptable.

But the bottles themselves. Or, more specifically, the labels. This is where the wonderful flavours of the season truly reside.

In fact, someone could drink the beer and simply give me the empty bottles to add to my collection. I think I'd be okay with that.

Labels and more labels

wychwood brewery

While savouring my recently purchased Wychcraft ale, I decided to visit the brewery's website. After all, they were offering T-shirts for bottle caps. Perhaps there was more.

There was.

It seems that in addition to the Wychcraft ale, the brewery offers a whole line of themed beers: Hobgoblin Dark Ale. . . Circlemaster Pale Ale. . . Black Wych Spellbinding Stout. And there was still more. The brewery is located in Oxfordshire, England, near medieval Wychwood Forest. Which reportedly boasts its share of legends and myths.

And. . . I can enter to win a haunted weekend in a 15th century inn! No. Wait. That's only for UK residents. No matter. Just one more reason to visit England again. In the meantime, I'm hoping to persuade my local liquor store to stock some Hobgoblin Ruby. I may never need to search for pumpkin beer again.

wychcraft

I was in the liquor store last weekend and as I walked past the wall of beer en route to the wine section, something caught my eye.

Beer is not usually my drink of choice. Apart from summer afternoons on my deck or the occasional evening in a pub, I prefer to drink wine. Or vodka. Or rum. Or Kahlua.

But I couldn't look at that bottle and simply walk away. So I brought one home. The label promised me "thrice hopped" goodness . . . a "pale golden potion with delicate red hues". . . "a truly magical brew". And while it wasn't the best beer I've tasted, it wasn't bad. Certainly a notch (or two) above the pumpkin ale I ended up with last Halloween. I think I might buy it again just for the label. And for the T-shirt offer on the back. Time to start saving those bottlecaps.

in search of pumpkin beer

Reading through some of the blogs out there during the past month or two, I’ve noticed posts evaluating various brands of pumpkin beer. Sounds tasty I thought. I’ve never had pumpkin beer. And now I think I know why. A quick trip to the liquor store confirmed what I had suspected: pumpkin beer does not exist here. Discouraging. However, all was not lost. During my recent trip to the U.S., pumpkin beer was everywhere . . . and with great names like Pumpkinhead Ale, Red October, Sea Dog Pumpkin Ale. It was a difficult decision indeed, but I finally settled on a few bottles of Jack’s Pumpkin Spice Ale and excitedly brought them home. Finally, I thought, I get to discover what everyone’s been writing about. And I must admit . . . I was a little underwhelmed. The only pumpkin spice I could detect was a barely-noticeable cinnamon aftertaste. Disappointing. So much pumpkin beer to choose from and I chose badly . . . lured by the grinning jack-o-lantern on the bottle. Oh well, I thought, maybe next year. And then . . . I saw an ad. It seems that a local microbrewery is offering pumpkin beer during the last two weeks of October this year! Better late than never. And not just any beer. No, this beer is reportedly made using local award-winning pumpkins. It just doesn’t get any more promising than that! So it wasn’t too late after all! I was being given a second chance at pumpkin beer. I immediately dashed to the nearest liquor store and tried to locate the beer. I looked . . . and looked . . . and finally asked for assistance . . . only to be told that no, this beer is being sold in select liquor stores only. Hmmm . . . seems we have an elitist microbrewery at work here. But okay, I’ll play along. So my next stop was one of the “select” liquor stores in the city, where I was promptly told: “Sorry. We had a shipment last week but it sold out in four days.” Seems I’m not the only person in town desperately seeking pumpkin beer. But there’s more. Apparently, the brewery will not commit to a delivery date for the next batch, simply stating that it will be there when it’s ready. Not only elitist, but power-crazed. This is pumpkin beer insanity! The nice liquor store guy suggested I check back next Thursday or Friday. So tomorrow, I’ll be giving the Propeller Brewery one more chance. By this weekend, I’ll either be enjoying the local pumpkin beer that I struggled so hard to obtain, or I’ll be sitting at home dejectedly, finishing off the rest of my mediocre Jack’s Pumpkin Ale.