Boulder, baby.
Where else could you ever see a shirt like this (even in a “vintage clothing” shop?)
I regret to report that I was not man enough to make the purchase, but I was aware enough, for better or worse, that I was witnessing something…special and had to at least preserve the memory. And after seeing a shirt like that, drinks needed to be consumed. Fortunately, we were in the backyard of the great Oskar Blues brewery. Their product is legit (trust me), and I was delighted to visit the makers of the beer I fell in love with this past year, Dale’s Pale Ale (which, like all of their beers, comes in a can). Seems like a novelty at first, but as the wise folks at Oskar Blues indicate, it actually makes a ton of sense (financially, aesthetically and otherwise) to do the aluminum thing, and we will see a lot more of this in the future once other breweries see the light (and keep the light out of their beers by no longer bottling them. Get it?). Here is the word, direct from the source:
But then we discovered that the belief that cans impart flavor to beer is a myth. The modern-day aluminum can and its lid are lined with a water-based coating, so the beer and the can never touch. Cans, we discovered, are actually good for beer. Cans keep beer especially fresh by fully protecting it from light and oxygen. Our cans also hold extremely low amounts of dissolved oxygen, so our beer stays especially fresh for longer. Cans are also easier to recycle and less fuel-consuming to ship.
These guys got game:
So, the love affair was solidified (I would say consummated but I don’t believe you can consummate anything with a beer, and believe me, I’ve tried) and drinks were enjoyed.
But the kicker was, while sampling their specialty beers (meaning the beers not available anywhere else but on the premises, which means they must be consumed, even if it’s lunchtime), the lovely bartender happened to mention that their new brown ale had a clever name. Leroy Brown Ale. Suffice it to say, that resonated with me on multiple levels, and I explained to her (and, eventually, the rest of the incredulous staff) that whether they knew it or not, their beer was named after the coolest brown schnauzer who ever lived. Beer, and karma, abounded.
Bottom line: I can’t back to Boulder quickly enough.
