Beer Zen - Nickel Brook Brewing Double Headstock

 

 Yesterday I stopped in at Nickel Brook Brewing in Burlington after work and was lucky enough to get to try their newest release, the 9.5% Double Headstock Imperial IPA, while also spending some time chatting with Founder John Romano about the state of the beer business in general and reminiscing about the years that seem to have flown by since we first met. I've been a fan of this OG Ontario craft brewer for many years, getting to know the people that work there only reinforced that feeling and when I heard this particular beer was coming out, it brought back a wave of nostalgia from when I first started trying all these "weird" beers back in 2014/15. 

  Up until the end of 2014, I was a dedicated macro beer drinker, the cheaper the better. It was about volume, not quality and I was adept at finding the best deals to deliver the quickest trip to getting drunk. As I started to wander around into craft beer, I was taken aback by the bitterness of IPAs, it threw me off just how full on they were after having spent the first 25 years of my drinking life drinking beers with nothing better than cold as a flavour description. It took me some time to understand what I was drinking and I can tell you that as I see other people get into drinking great beer at a younger age, starting out in my 40's just makes me wish I too had started sooner. It was a tremendous time in those days for me though, it seemed every week introduced me to a new style or a new brewery and I wanted nothing more than to immerse myself into the world I didn't know existed full steam ahead.

  I remember the first time I had a Headstock from Nickel Brook and really understood it. I felt an immense sense of comfort and latched onto to this West Coast IPA with all I had. It delivered everything I had come to love about beer and led me to other styles of IPA that has no doubt helped fuel my desire to keep going with everything I do in beer. There was a real feeling of adventure and anticipation in those days that remains a palpable memory whenever I think back to how eager we were to just be a part of it all. It was a glorious time I'll never forget.

  The ensuing years have seen explosive growth in both the industry and the community that surrounds it. Creativity and innovation not only happens in the brewhouse, but on social media as fans of the beers continue to find new and interesting ways to share their love of the beer they drink. It's changed a lot since I first started and I while I keep doing what it is I know how to do, I applaud and look forward to seeing the amazing stuff some people come up with to spread the good word. Having said that, it is rare that I truly get excited about a beer release, I enjoy new beers and returning seasonal ones too, but it's got to be something real big to get that feeling from so long ago to come bubbling up to the surface again.

 Double Headstock did just that.

  It was like stepping into a time machine from the first sip. A big malt bill, smooth honey like body with the bitter citrus and pine showing me you can go home again. I was immediately transported back to the early 2010's and that bold sense of change I was feeling around me. It was nostalgia mixed with wonder poured into a glass. A throwback to the days when I measured IBU as a personal challenge and beers like Nickel Brook's Immodest Imperial IPA and Sawdust City's Twin Pines shook the core of what I knew about myself. From the first sip, I closed my eyes and felt the woosh of time pass by and all the years and troubles fell away till I was left standing in a singular moment, experiencing the joy that beer can bring all over again. 

  This feeling remained as we talked over the tall boy we had split, sipping as the sun began to fade through the windows and it became time to say our goodbyes. As release date for this beer wasn't until today, John sent me home with a 4 pack and I thanked him for sharing this moment with me. We had talked about this particular idea he had for Double Headstock many years ago and it was a dream come true not just for him, but for anyone who loves Headstock too. As judged by the reaction from people when I posted it later online, delivering an Imperial version of this iconic beer is being welcomed with the fanfare it deserves. I'll be grabbing another 6 pack on my way home for the weekend tomorrow, it is something I relish, this feeling of completeness and joy. That a beer can do that, even if you're only having one, is a tremendous accomplishment and one that I hope more people can find.

Polk

February 8th, 2024

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

Growing Up Happy - Part 1

My Childhood

That hair!

My childhood was wholly unremearkable. Please don't try to misconstrue that in any way other than positive. I was lucky and privileged enough to be born in a time when one parent could stay home and manage the household on a single salary. My father worked at Stelco, the local steel mill, and my mother was the one who stayed with us, being on call for 4 kids whenever we needed her. Not wealthy, but decidedly middle class, we grew up never wanting for the basics and occasionally splurging on luxuries. Growing up in a large family and being the oldest meant I knew responsibility early and was always on the lookout for my brothers and sister.



So young and over 40 years later, still beautiful.

My earliest memories play around the edges of real or nostalgia. All day bike rides with our only connection to home being that it was our neighbourhood and the people who lived there looked out for one another. We had to be home for dinner, but lunch would often be some sandwiches and a precious can of pop tucked into your backpack. Out again as soon as the dishes were done, we would pause only when the streetlights came on and begrudgingly head home, with promises to meet up with our friends the next day.

Pictures were a luxury, as you had no idea if they turned out and getting the film produced cost money that would be better spent on groceries or the ever growing kids in our family. Yet we have album after album of smiling faces, family events and road trips that brought so much joy to our lives. We may have thousands of pictures on our computers now, but none of them compare to those dusty photos of 4 kids and their parents having fun. Smiling faces and happy eyes make me see just how much my parents gave us.

That time we met Gordie Howe!

Summer meant vacation and for my mom, that meant no rest from the demands of 4 busy kids. She always kept us moving, taking us on day trips, making sure we ate and engaging our obsessions, which would change from day to day as we found new and exciting things happening in the world. Our house was often the focal point for all of our friends as its joyful demeanour was a respite from their own chaotic lives. The pool was always full and one of the first outdoor responsibilities that we learned after gardening was if you wanted to have your friends over, you had to vacuum the pool. It prepared me for the many parties I would host over the decades. Always make the house ready and you can enjoy your time with friends. No one was ever turned away from that house on Glassco, the door swung open at all hours and even though I was a kid, I knew my parents were constantly helping those who needed it.

Still cute together and always up for an adventure

Occasionally and with great anticipation, we would go away for a vacation. I can't even begin to imagine the logistics of packing 4 kids, sometimes a dog and all their perceived needs into a car and either going camping or in later years to my Aunt Jennette's cottage in Wasaga Beach. These trips were extra special because it meant that Dad didn't have to work and we could spend some time with him away from the stress of his job. Like most kids whose mother stayed home and father worked, I didn't understand how hard they both worked and it is only with the wisdom of age that I see what they did. A vacation for us kids meant beaches, swimming and other sunny adventures. For my mom, it meant taking care of the 5 of us in another place with more dirt and less amenities. But we never knew or felt that. She always smiled and made sure we were taken care of first. I don't think she ate a hot meal for most of our trips and always put our enjoyment first. It was selfless then and I can't help but marvel at how we never knew she was working so hard to make our lives so much fun. 

Dad always manned the BBQ and of course the Pie - Irons (essentially a cast iron sandwich maker that you use in the hot coals of the fire). Perhaps a beer in hand, he loved to grill up whatever mom had brought and if you were lucky, he'd let you have a little taste of what was cooking. I know now how hard he worked to provide us with everything we needed and the skills he taught me have made me the man I am today. While I inherited his quick temper, I also heeded his wisdom on how to contain it. We were always the focus of his attention, the jokes, stories and he was an involved presence at everything we did. Being a father in the late 70's and early 80's was far different than it is now and his very attentive and sympathetic way of listening and offering advice was years ahead of its time.Our later conflicts brought on more by our similarities than our differences, but the bond forged in my childhood never let me doubt his love.

The boys are forever best friends.
We may not see each other often, but the love is always there.

 All of these memories come from that warm place inside my heart. I can feel the love I was given and the safe embrace of home still resonates today. The things we did as a family and the happiness it created are what saved me when I was at my lowest years later. I always joke that any mistakes I made in life are no ones fault but my own because I had such an easy going childhood and a set of parents who supported me even when I didn't deserve it. All of this happened in a simple house, on a suburban street with two people who gave everything they had to make sure their kids grew up with a sense of family and joy at being part of something bigger than yourself.

Thank you Mom and Dad for always making us your priority, then and now.

 Your dedication to your family is a big part of why I smile when I think back to those days on Glassco and the glory of my youth.

 

The family has grown and the love has multiplied.