Sunday Beers - In Praise of Milds, Bitters and Brown Ales

 

 Imagine a lazy Sunday afternoon in a warm and cozy pub, maybe on a patio if the weather is nice, but the main components are still the same. Good friends, good beer and hours with nothing to do but enjoy both at your leisure. For a lot of people, the beer is as much a part of the experience as the folks you spend it with and while we are ways off from just all getting out there and filling the pubs and taprooms, the time is coming round again. While many chase the latest craze in haze or double down on big, boozy stouts, I want to take a few moments and talk about the low ABV offerings, why they are so important to me and why I call them Sunday beers.

Sunday Beers are all about the hours. They imply a leisurely pace to drinking them and a focus on good conversation and interaction with your companions than getting hammered while pounding back 8% pints of something hopped up or barrel aged. It is about the 5% and less English Milds, Brown Ales and the like, which bring a fine sessionability to the table along with great flavour and a complex profile that is also ready for multiple pints. Rounds for the table and enjoying food while imbibing in an unhurried atmosphere are what I feel when I pop the top on a Mild. It lends itself to easy drinking, with the low alcohol allowing more than a couple without falling into drunkenness and as I continue to evolve as a beer drinker and a person, I appreciate that a lot more than I used to.

While I suppose any sub 5% beer would do, a lager or pils perhaps, I think there is something about the flavour of these styles that brings this feeling of communal drinking, no time frame and an easy afternoon with your pals. The base maltiness delivers more than a simple lager can and the toffee or caramel combined with a solid bitterness that isn't overwhelming and actually invites another sip and then another. They are easy going beers in a busy world and my love of this style continues to grow. I wish there were more of them and that they were easily accessible for drinking at home right now, at the pub in the future. The problem, of course, lies in profitability and giving the shiny things to the loudest people. IPAs sell, hazy ones all the better. Big and bold pastry or barrel aged beers stouts bring a big price point and fruited sours still drive the pretty pictures on the internet. But and it's an anecdotal one I know, I think their is a market for the Milds, the Brown Ale or even the English style Pale or ESB. These beers have loads character but their accessibility to the novice craft beer drinker is a big plus to their potential.

  I often wonder what things will feel like when we can gather once again in larger numbers in taprooms and pubs. Will it be different? Will we appreciate it more, the connectedness of us all sharing a few pints on a lazy Sunday afternoon? Will we finally find a peace with enjoying a good beer without chasing the hype? I have been feeling nostalgic for a thing I never had when it comes to these styles, perhaps it is my longing for that kind of friendship again that I had when I was a denzien of a Dive Bar...but with better beer. 

Take the road less travelled and marvel at what you'll find in your glass.

Polk

Day Drinking

 

   It's a beautiful morning, the sun is shining and you have the day off. This is an opportune time to get some work done around the house, finish up a few projects and clean up that garage.

Or.

  You could settle into your favourite spot and enjoy a few beverages all day long while doing absolutely nothing.
 
Day drinking is one of those things that few know how to do properly and with society looking on, most avoid. I am not advocating sloppy drunkenness by 10 a.m. but I don't think there is anything wrong with the occasional day spent languidly exploring new beers and catching up on a little time for yourself. 


Here's a schedule for a perfect day spent imbibing and enjoying a little liquid vacation...


9 a.m. - It's time for a porter or stout. Cliché I know, but if your a coffee drinker like I am, that roasty bitterness will help give you a wake up call and a tasty one at that.


10 a.m. - It's time for a little pale ale in your glass as the sun rises a little higher and you want to spread your palate a little. Up the hops and bitterness level for a second pint.

11 a.m. - This is the sweet spot for a good wheat beer in my opinion. Pre lunch and still with the glow of a good night's sleep, the banana and orange notes feel like morning and that peppery backend will wake your palate up for lunch.

Noon - Lunch time! It is important to eat during a day drinking session and I am partial to a nice refreshing pilsner with my midday meal. Clean and crisp, it is perfect for almost anything you'd like to have to eat.

1 p.m. - Full and lounging around under the canopy, you reach for a red or brown ale, something you haven't had in a while and different from what has been in your glass all day. Enjoy a book or a little conversation before that wonderful nap time occurs.

2 p.m. - Nap time! Take a break, close your eyes and set aside your worries for a while. A half hour or so rights any ship and leaves you ready for the rest of the day.

3 p.m. - All the Hops! Time for the first bitter bomb of the day with a classic west coast IPA. It kicks the sleepy thoughts from your mind and pops the taste buds back into shape. Keep it under 7%, still a long way to go.

4 p.m. - That malty hopped up goodness needs a clean follow. Saison time as you prepare dinner. A farmhouse ale, whether funked up with some brett or traditional style will help keep you singing as you head into the back half of your sojourn from reality.

5 p.m. - Dinner time has arrived and as you cook up a feast or a lighter fare, it is time for a sour ale to make its' way into your glass. Tart and kicking up some fruity goodness, find one that suits your mood and enjoy the time spent at the BBQ or stove while your meal cooks.


6 p.m. - Sharing a meal means spending time with people you love. While savouring a fine dinner, why not enjoy a well made lager. Nothing to interfere with the flavours of the food, but rather a refreshing and slightly more flavourful old reliable to wash it all down with.


7 p.m. - Dishes in the dishwasher and a satisfied hunger means it is time to move into the night time. A hazy New England style IPA will do the trick here. Pillowy soft and juicy with a restrained bitterness that sets the stage for a final hurrah of the day.


8 p.m. - As the sun is setting, it is time to break into the cellar for a night cap of epic proportions. Maybe shared with someone close or slow sipped alone in contemplative silence. A big and roasty Bourbon Barrel aged stout or perhaps a barley wine would suit just where you are at this moment. Pour slow, drink slower and let the day end with a smile.


  A list missing a few styles but hey, it's just an idea. Pace your ABV and make sure to hydrate with water all day long. Pause and enjoy each beer for what it is, don't pound and mindlessly reach for another. Spread the joy out the entire day and make sure you have nowhere to go and nothing you need to do.
  Perhaps a little facetious but in all good humour comes a little truth*. Drink responsibly and know your limits.


Cheers!


Polk


*relax guys, it's all in good fun...

Frankie & Cat Stevens - When I was a Drunk in a Bar

 

Order another round Young Polk.

I used to frequent a local hole in the wall bar near my house when I was in my early 20's called Shuffles. The food was outstanding, homemade perogies and cabbage rolls with so many more amazing dishes I get hungry remembering them; it was a fine but simple place with the usual macro beers on tap and some decent but not pricey liquor. The proprietors were friendly people who remembered your name and were a part of why you stopped in as the cold beer you craved. Much like Cheers, it was indeed a place that felt like home and I would drop in almost every day after work to read the paper, have a little conversation and a $5 mini pitcher or 3 of whatever was on tap, more often than not Canadian or Coors light. It was when you could smoke in bars and the blue haze along with a juke box filled with classic rock, country and the odd 90's hit made it feel like a basement hangout, just with a motley crew of East End Hamilton's finest degenerates.
  Becoming a regular in a bar after my divorce caused me to move back home again at 23 wasn't what I had envisioned my life being but I quickly grew to love that feeling when I walked through the doors every day. A couple of my Uncles had long been patrons and many a night I spent at their sides, drinking a few pints and shots, listening to old tales and feeling like I had found my place. I was hurting bad inside from the break up but hadn't really been into drinking for so many years that I didn't see the slide begin. And when I did, not only was it too late, I didn't care any more.
  Many times we made last call and after the door was locked, dimmed the lights, pulled the shades and kept right on drinking. Like I said, we were degenerates but we gave a shit about each other and didn't want the party to end.
  One guy in particular still stands out in my memory and I am certain I am being nostalgic and seeing it with beer covered glasses but he was one of those people you don't forget. His name was Frankie and he was the most regular of the regulars, there when they opened, home for a meal and back again. Slumped against the bar in a legendary pose, smoke in one hand, beer or shot in the other, he would opine about any subject and I often spent my time listening to his glorious drunk talk about loves won and lost and life lived on the outside of normal. We would head deep into that zone only real drunks know where you think you're figuring it all out and wake the next day with the feeling that everything you said was bullshit but that didn't matter because we were getting close. Searching for answers at the bottom of the bottle and not finding them didn't mean we would give up, it meant we would get another bottle and look again. But what I remember most is the music he would pick as his time at the bar wound down, almost every day. 'Father and Son' and 'Wild World' from Cat Stevens are burned into my memory for life as both sides of the same coin. Struggling with the end of what was supposed to be the grand love story of my life, not knowing where to turn next and having little in the way of direction, I felt the loneliness and longing in each note he played. Drunk is no way to try to process life's big questions, but what did I know then. Looking back now with a lifetime of beautiful and sad memories I can feel a tear and a smile at the same time because I know it turned out okay even if I had no way of knowing it would.  
 

Still on rotation in my house.
All the feels.

These two songs always get me no matter what I am doing or feeling, they make me want to remember the times I forgot because I was so deep in the well of depression and self loathing but medicated by booze and beer to the point of pure inebriation. There exist no pictures from these "legendary" times as it was the mid nineties, long before digital cameras and smart phones had us documenting our entire existences. Part of me is grateful for that but there is a longing for a snapshot or two of those times just so I can prove they really happened.
  Frankie was probably a lonely man with lots of friends and I'd be lying if part of me doesn't wonder if I will ultimately end up on that same path. Searching for answers that I don't even know the questions to while drinking myself into oblivion has some pull, even now after the last 3 years of trying to calm that beast inside me. I've worked hard to leave that guy behind me but when the stress of everything life throws at you points you to the bottle and you know it will make you feel good, even temporarily, that's hard to say no to. Even knowing the problems don't go away and in fact could be made worse by drowning them in drink doesn't faze the dark Polk that I know lurks down inside me.
  Choosing life and knowing I don't want to go back to being that guy again has to be a conscious decision. I ponder every beer I drink and try to enjoy what it brings to the glass without pounding it in search of the darkness again. I miss my bar fly days but only in that way we all look back on the simpler times when a beer was a beer and we drank because that was what you did, feelings were for wimps and smokes were cheap. It wasn't better, but it just was who we were and what we knew. Things are different now but part of me does long for a time when I didn't care because it was so much easier to just let go and get bombed.
  I'm not looking to recreate my youth, just ruminating about the times I was so close to just letting my life slide into the haze because it is floating in the ether of my mind and won't let go until it is written. I don't hide behind the booze or drugs, I bring that beast into the open and expose it to the light to kill it and take back my power over what leaves me powerless. It's a good day when I stay in control and the more of them I have, the more I want. Moderation is my watchword now and with a little luck and some attention to the triggers that drive me to over consume I may not end up that old guy at the end of the bar playing songs to bring back the memories only to drown them in my glass.


Cheers.


Polk