I just got back from San Francisco, and you'd think that my desire to travel would be satiated for awhile. Not so. In the last year, I've been on a few trips here and there, but there are so many more that stay on (and keep being added to) the list. And so many to do before I leave the east coast. Among them: Philadelphia to see the city of Brotherly Love, Pittsburgh to see a Steeler's game and eat a famous Primanti Brother's sandwich, a longer visit of Memphis, can't ever get enough of New York, a dive trip in the Florida Keys, and of course North Carolina.
I have not explored enough of the east coast yet, and one of the places I've been hearing a lot about lately is Asheville, North Carolina. As a burgeoning indie music and arts scene, it seems like this might be a town I'd really bond with. The gorgeous wooded landscapes and the serene beaches look amazing, too. As if that weren't enough, I just heard from my friend Kellan that her parents (Hi Jim and Francene!) recently visited North Carolina, and discovered this amazing beer store called Bruisin' Ales.
With over 800 brews, this is a Mecca for beer geeks everywhere. Pray to the east, my friends. They have your everyday favorites, hard to find gems, and even a (gasp!) build your own six-pack program. It appears to be a colorful and cozy store, very well laid out, and a great example of what I hope to build one day. Best of luck to the owners, Jason & Julie Atallah! You've already got a fan made outta this girl, and I haven't even been there yet.
This was a full weekend of working, cooking, and socializing. Saturday was spent working at the wine and beer shop, which is always a good time. I love the camaraderie and sense of community between the owners and the customers, and I never fail to learn something new. And of course, I typically come home with something new to taste, which gives new meaning to “Will Work for Beer”.
This time, I brought home a couple bottles of Southern Tier Crème Brulée Stout and a bottle of Tröegs Java Head Stout. Naturally, the wheels started turning…what to pair them with?
Late last month, I came across a recipe for Chocolate Stout Layer Cake with Chocolate Frosting, and have been doing everything in my power to find an excuse to try it out. I can’t just make a chocolate cake for any old weeknight dinner, because inevitably there will be leftovers, and then I’d feel obligated to eat the leftovers - and the vicious cycle continues. However, with a dinner party to attend last night, I had the perfect reason to test this recipe, but I did it with some small alterations - including changing the layer cake format into individual cupcakes.
Though I found the recipe on epicurious.com, it originally comes from Bon Appétit Magazine, and was written by Bruce Aidells.
This recipe calls for ¾ cup chocolate stout, but strong fresh-brewed coffee is also a key ingredient, which is why I chose to cook with the Tröegs Java Head Stout. After a few sips of this distinct brew, I decided that I’d rather bake with it than drink it on its own. The brewing process makes use of whole Kenyan coffee beans, which are at the forefront of every sip. This was a little strong willed for my taste. However, the finish does have a slight citrus presence, which may be attributed to the way the whole flower Cluster, Cascade, and Chinook hops are subjected to a sort of “French press” style of brewing.
Also key to this recipe is the use of really good chocolate. I used a pound of Callebaut, which is made in Canada by a chocolatier by the name of Bernard Callebaut, whose family has been in the fine chocolate business for generations. It’s not cheap, but it tastes extravagant. I also learned the hard way that the amount of frosting needed for a cupcake is a lot less than the amount needed for a tall cake. No shortage of frosting at my house.
The first batch of cupcake batter went fairly smoothly. I substituted brown sugar in place of white sugar, which I believe may have lead to the too-dense consistency of the cake. Also, I used unsalted butter while the recipe called for salted butter -- something I wouldn’t repeat if making this again. But other than that, the cake batter and the frosting were both pretty uncomplicated, and enjoyable to prepare. And being that it was a cozy fall day here in DC, I chopped a chocolate brick, mixed, and sifted ingredients to my hearts content, content to be dry and indoors.
Unfortunately, the serene afternoon of baking came to a screeching halt when taking the first tray of cupcakes out of the oven. The heat from the pan was too much for my little oven mitt, and in a panic of scorched nerve endings, I ended up tossing the cupcakes all over the kitchen. Ugh.
Cupcakes in the rug, cupcakes smashed on the floor, cupcakes smeared across kitchen cabinets, batter on the wall - it wasn’t pretty. After some colorful cursing, a quick clean-up, and a few minutes of calming back rubs from my thoughtful onlooker, I was on to batch #2.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, in my case) I was out of the Java Head Stout and had to substitute with the Southern Tier Crème Brulée Stout. The second batch of cupcakes was done in no time, and frosting them was a breeze. Without the frosting, though, I’m not sure I’d have much interest in this cake. The dough was a little too dense and heavy, without the über-chocolatey taste I was expecting.
Southern Tier Crème Brulée Stout is the most delectable dessert beer I have ever tasted. This stuff is like sarsaparilla heaven in liquid form. I couldn’t drink more than a small glass, so a bomber can be shared between friends. It’s creamy without being overly sweet, and pours super dark with little carbonation. Definitely one you’ll want to linger with. Maybe over a chocolate cupcake, even.
Last night’s dinner party was great - good friends and good food, hilarious conversation, a side of MLB and NFL alternating channels and a bunch of people streaming in and out of the kitchen all night long. We paired the cupcakes with Cookies & Cream flavored ice cream, which made for the perfect addition. Even though I won't be making cupcakes again anytime soon, I've got plenty left over to snack on. Probably while admiring my freshly scrubbed floor...and cabinets...and walls...with a glass of stout in hand, and a smile on my face.
My sisters and I had to part ways on Monday morning, so we checked out of the hotel and said our goodbyes. With some rainy weather in front of me and a few ideas how to spend the day, I checked to see what time City Beer Store would open. And go figure, they were closed on Monday. Such a disappointment - that was the one place I wanted to go most. Next time, I guess. After a quick call to Shmaltz Brewing, I learned that they don't yet have a tasting room in San Francisco - strike two. And Anchor Steam's tours are booked solid up through November - strike three. What to do with the last day in San Francisco?
Stretching my legs and getting some fresh air seemed like a good idea, so I walked up Sacramento Street from the Financial District back to Polk Street. Lavande Spa has always been a favorite mani-pedi place of mine, and I'm glad I stopped in. A tiny woman scrubbed and buffed my feet to perfection, and with her miniscule hands somehow crunched and manipulated my tired, half-marathon pounding feet into relaxed mush. No sooner than when I left Lavande, the rain had stopped and the day was beautiful again.
After a quick browse through a bookstore, I grabbed a seat at Swan Oyster Depot for a bit of lunch. I love sitting at the crowded counter and watching the guys who work there laugh and joke with each other and entertain the customers as they go about their business day.
In chatting with one of the men behind the counter, I learned that Swan has been open since 1912, but in 1946, upon returning from the war, this guy's dad (Sal Sancimino) bought the place, and it has been family run ever since. (Which isn't suprising - there is a striking family resemblance in many of the guys who work here). The choices are many - fresh lobster, crab, clams, oysters, salmon, squid, shrimp - they've got it all, but the menu is far from complicated. I knew exactly what I wanted, though, and my meal couldn't have been more fitting for this drizzly, sleepy day in San Francisco. A big bowl of creamy clam chowder, a hunk of fresh sourdough bread and butter, and a pint of beautiful, amber-hued Anchor Steam.
Anchor Steam is the quintessential San Francisco beer. Their website gives an interesting and detailed history of the brewery's beginnings, the obstacles they faced, and the manner in which they have risen to prominence today. Steam beer is faily unique as well, and according to their history, Anchor "inherited a long tradition of brewing that had come to be known as steam beer, one of the quaint old nicknames for beer brewed along the West Coast under primitive conditions and without ice. Today "steam" is a trademark of Anchor Brewing." I really wish I could have toured their facility on Potrero Hill, but I suppose there always has to be a reason for a return trip to San Francisco.
Another reason to return would be a visit to the City Beer Store. In thinking back over my trip, I was pretty bummed to have not seen it, and realized that I'd also be sad if I completely missed Toronado, as well. I grabbed a cab and in a few minutes, I was standing on Haight Street, outside of the legendary beer bar.
I'm so glad that my trip crescendoed with a visit to Toronado. When I walked in, the bar was fairly populated for a Monday afternoon. Choosing a seat at the counter, the bartender asked me for my selection, and I whispered those three magic words: Pliny The Elder. This Russian River brew is not available where I live, and I couldn't wait to take a sip.
The bartender checked in with me as my glass slowly emptied, to see if I liked the beer. I said I did, and that since I lived in DC, I'd like to taste the beers that I can't get out East. He responded, "DC, huh. I think the best thing about DC is (insert name of beer bar here)." When I mentioned that I worked there, I'm pretty sure my credibility as a bar patron suddenly rose like a stock ticker in a bull market. He introduced himself as Stephen, and we started chatting about delicious beers and the adventures of working in a beer bar. He brought me a taster of Epiphany Ale next -- the product of Iron Springs Brewery in Fairfax, California.
As one does in a bar on a Monday afternoon, I started chatting with my neighbor* to my right, and beer conversation turned in to running and biking conversation. We compared notes on the ales we were sipping, and enjoyed the quiet day in a musty beer bar.
Next in line was a pint of the Port Brewing Company "High Tide" Fresh Hop IPA. Not my favorite of fresh hop ales. This must be a hard beer to brew (I haven't yet tried) because so far, I have only found one fresh hop style that I truly love, that being the Sierra Nevada Southern Hemisphere. But the ambiance and the company at Toronado was fantastic, so who's gonna complain about one less-than-memorable taste?
Yep, there was even more beer. But c'mon...they were little! Sort of. The next beer was from Drake's Brewing in San Leandro, California. The Drake's Quasar Imperial IPA was delicious. Very sweet and bitter at the same time. I could have had another glass, but Steven had different things in mind for my lineup.
Death & Taxes Schwarzbier is brewed by Moonlight Brewing Company in Fulton, California. This beer gets high marks by some serious beer heavyweights in the tasting world, but it's just not my cup of barley. In fact, at the risk of offending my new friend, I had to push it away. Way too smokey and tobbacco-y for my tastes.
To get the chocolate smoke taste out of my mouth, I indulged in my last brew of the day - the Deschutes Hop Trip, another fresh hop ale. This was good, but still (in my opinion) not as good as the Sierra. But a great way to round out the tastings at Toronado. And really, Deschutes can do no wrong in my opinion.
It was nearly time for me to head to the airport, and start the long trek home to DC. I picked up some Toronado souvenirs, a Rosamunde sausage, and waved aloha to my new friends. Another great visit to my favorite city on the planet, and a few delicious beers along the way. Until next time, San Francisco.
*My neighbor at the bar, though I didn't know it at the time, was Gary Fisher, one of the major influences in modern mountain biking and an all around genius pioneer in cycling. Steven kept saying "hey Gary, can I get you anything?" but I had no clue, even though we talked a lot about biking. He was a super cool guy though, with some amazing ideas about the future of our youth and their influence on the globe. What a trip. Great to meet you, Gary!
Sunday morning at 5:00 a.m., the alarm went off, signaling the need to get ready for the half marathon. I've made it pretty clear that I slacked off with the training, and I wasn't exactly thrilled to be waking up. Reluctantly, I got up, dressed, and ventured out on to the dark streets of San Francisco towards the starting line in Union Square with my sisters.
Runners filled the streets, mostly women, and hip hop music played in the background to wake us all up. Once Beyonce came on, there seemed to be a collective booty shake throughout Union Square while participants started to think that this "running" thing wasn't such a terrible idea. Amie, our default cheerleader and photographer, stood on the sidelines snapping pictures while trying to stay warm. This was the first half marathon for my sister Julie, and we decided to run together. Or maybe I decided to run with her because I couldn't hang on my own with such little training. Either way, we treaded forward, pushed on by the energy of the crowd and the music, and eventually the mileage actually started to feel good.
We were having fun. I liked this. I thought, huh, maybe I have it in me to do the whole thing. Yeah, twenty six miles is only twice as long. I could probably do it. How bad could it be? Maybe I should just go for it.
Then, out of nowhere, mile six and reality both hit at the same time and we ran up a true San Francisco hill. My knees decided that the half marathon was just fine for today, thankyouverymuch, and the countdown for mile thirteen began.
We heaved, we trodded, and every now and then when a wave of energy would hit, we goofed around. Julie would look over at me and sing whatever lyrics were coming through her earphones, and I'd dance back at her with some silly arm movements. We were tired but, amazingly, still having fun.
At the finish, Julie looked determined and happy, but a little pained as well. Nevertheless, her first half marathon was a success. After we got in to the finishers area, she let me know that her back hurt, and we quickly made our way to a medical tent. A volunteer secured an ice pack to her back with some handy saran wrap looking stuff, and together we hobbled over to the meet-up area to find Amie and friends. Julie needed to rest, and wanted to catch up with her friends while holding on to the ice pack, so Amie and I crossed the street to the shining beacon of post-race nirvana: The Beach Chalet Brewery.
Across the street from Ocean Beach, The Beach Chalet Brewery has some amazing views of the sea, good food, and a variety of beers as well. The whole place was packed with runners, yet we still managed to find a couple of seats at the bar. I ordered a sampler of beers, and Amie had a spicy Bloody Mary with all the garnishes. We shared some garlic fries and buffalo wings, and I'm not sure I've ever had better.
Besides serving as liquid painkillers, my samples of beers were really only decent. Nothing remarkable whatsoever, except for the Riptide Red Ale which was full bodied and deliciously bitter. Our food was definitely the best part and our service was very friendly, especially considering how busy this place was.
After our pit stop, we took a look at the Shuttle line to go back to the city, which had wrapped around the block - it wasn't looking good. Meanwhile, Julie had gone from sore to worse. Her back, still iced, was hurting more and more. Eventually, we made our way back to the hotel, showered, and rested for a while.
The goal for the evening was to meet up with friends at Toronado, but sadly that was not to be. We were a little afraid that Julie's back was seriously hurt, so laying low was all we could do. But having not run in weeks, then hitting the thirteen miles with my sister, seeing all the breathtaking views of the San Francisco coastline, and then refreshing afterwards with a few beers - not bad. Not bad at all.
Saturday morning came fast and hard. But, still being on east coast time, I was up and awake well before I would have liked to be. This time, with the inevitable "last night was so much fun" headache.
Kellan and I walked out in her neighborhood to Clement Street with one goal in mind: the healing properties of that tasty Vietnamese soup called phỏ (sadly, the accent over the o just doesn't come out correctly here). We were the sole diners at Phỏ Clement, and ordered a plate of tasty potstickers and a small bowl of steak and tripe phỏ, made with steaming broth and rice noodles, and served with a fragrant, fresh bunch of basil, lime, slices of hot peppers, and cold, crisp bean sprouts. The hot broth, the spicy chili sauces, and the fresh brewed tea were exactly what the doctor ordered. Any memory of a few too many beers was erased after we walked through those doors.
Further down Clement Street is a great bookstore, so we had to stop in at Green Apple Books. I found a copy of Maureen Ogle's "Ambitious Brew" for only $5.98. I love this place! Kellan picked up a Spanish book and we were on our way.
I said farewell to Kellan and headed to the Clift Hotel for check in. But I didn't stay long. What is that saying about roads being paved with good intentions? After dropping my bag, I walked up Columbus Street to San Francisco Brewing Company and had a seat. (I know, I know, I broke my pre-race rule of no alcohol. Bear with me.) The brewpub was just opening, and the bartender was setting things up when I walked in. Bing Crosby played on the stereo, and tourists and businesspeople walked by the open doors as the breeze wafted in and freshened the air.
San Francisco Brewing Company is housed in an old building that was formerly the Andromeda Saloon (circa 1907), dating back to the days of the 49'ers and the Barbary Coast and later became the Albatross Saloon in the late seventies. Its period fixtures and antique ceiling fan and wall art provided a fitting backdrop as I listened to the bartender, Emily Anne, tell me about the early days in San Francisco and the loveable miscreants who worked and drank here.
Miss Emily, also a jazz singer and a student in San Francisco, was busy coordinating gig setups in between entertaining me with stories and beer. (Her myspace page, linked here, has some great music samples!) She poured me a few tasters of their different beers, and it was a delicious way to start the afternoon. After walking past this brewery every day on my way to work, I can't believe that it took being a tourist to actually get me inside.
The first taste (starting in the upper left corner) was the Albatross Lager, and my second favorite of all the brews. A slight hop finish, and lots of delicate lacing. So delicious. Next up, the Emperor Norton Lager. Totally bland, and not one I’d try again. Third in line, the Hugh Hefnerweizen. Huge points for the clever name, and a great cloudy golden appearance. Yeast dripping down towards the bottom of the glass, and a mild, lemony taste.
In the bottom left corner of the photo, and not my favorite of fresh hop varieties, but not the worst either, their Fresh Hop Ale was not overly hoppy, and had a mellow taste to it. Probably wouldn’t order it again, though. The Oofty Goofty Barley Wine, on the other hand, was truly interesting. Pruney, with a sweet taste and a tart finish. Apparently this barley wine was named after a Barbary Coast-era street performer who got his start by tarring and feathering himself with horse hair to look like an ape and locking himself in a cage. As people walked by, he would growl "Oofty Goofty, Oofty Goofty". However, as Miss Emily relayed to me, Oofty Goofty was legendary most of all for allowing people to hit him with a bat for a few cents a strike. According to legend, he could feel no pain. Eventually, his antics caught up with him when he let a man beat him with a pool stick, breaking his spine and leading to his untimely death.
Oofty Goofty also billed himself "The Wild Man of Borneo" - which was particularly funny to me. As a kid, my parents would refer to our post-nap or post-bathtowel mussed up hair as "Wild Man of Borneo" hair. I had no idea that one day I'd be sipping on a barley wine of the same designation.
And lastly, the Shanghai.P.A. was amazing. Definitely my favorite in taste and smell. Low carbonation and plenty of grapefruity goodness. I'd take home a growler if the kind folks at TSA allowed that kind of thing. I think they might change their minds if I let them sip it first...
Sadly, my sampler was finished and I had to get going. Something about having a race the next day? The evening rolled on, and I met up with my friends and sisters for a pasta dinner at Macaroni Sciue Sciue in North Beach, and lots and lots of water. Another great day of walking all over the place, refreshing beer, good food, and wonderful friends. I love this city.
After flying in to the San Francisco airport very late on Thursday night, I was glad to have the opportunity to sleep in on Friday morning. Unfortunately, I was quickly reminded that I am cursed with the inability to sleep in, and I was still on East Coast time. At about 7:00 a.m. on Friday morning, I was wide awake and raring to go.
My friend Tony treated me to breakfast at Javaholic in the Inner Richmond, and we fueled up on some seriously strong coffee and delicious bagels and caught up on the goings-on since we last visited. Afterward, I made my way down to Union Square for the Nike Race Expo. I've participated in lots of races that have expo's, but none quite like this. Nike, as the primary sponsor, made for a very specific and controlled event. Instead of a convention center ballroom jammed full of different types of vendors, this expo had a consistent look and a very "Nike" feel throughout, and any samples or giveaways were specifically themed for the event. An oxygen bar sponsored by Cole Haan, and a bike-powered smoothie machine station sponsored by Safeway, manicures given by Jet Blue - very different than your average race expo.
Post-expo, I hit the Ferry Building on Embarcadero - one of my all-time favorite places in San Francisco. Recchiuti, a local chocolatier, makes a Fleur de Sel chocolate with caramel and sea salts that is insanely good, so naturally I picked up two squares and savored them while strolling along to see all of the other vendors - familiar places like Cowgirl Creamery, Prather Ranch Meats, the mushroom vendor, and one of my favorite plants shops that specializes in beautiful succulents.
I met up with my friend Katie, and we purchased ferry tickets to Larkspur. But, we had some time to spare before our ferry left, so we each grabbed a taste-sized glass of an Austrian Gruner Veltliner at the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant in the Ferry Building. She describes this as a great breakfast wine - which is just one of the many indicators that she is a great person to spend a day with.
The weather was perfect and the view from the ferry was monumental. Days like this are exactly why people, myself included, fall for this city.
Once in Larkspur, we trekked up the hill to Marin Brewing Company. Upon entering the brewpub, we ran in to some of Katie's friends, and we all had lunch and brews outside on the patio together. Katie chose the Raspberry Trail Ale, and I started with a pint of Marin Hefe Weiss. Delicious. This beer has won tons of GABF, WBC, and local awards, and it's obvious why with every sip. Just the right amount of hazy yeast, and on a sunny day this was the right choice.
Second on the drink lineup was a half pint of the Point Reyes Porter, also the recipient of several prestigious awards. Just as the website claims, this porter was definitely rich and velvety.
After an afternoon in the sun, we ferried back to San Francisco. And second only to the view, the ferries in San Francisco are the best in the world because you can order from a full bar. How great is that?? God forbid we should be without options for the thirty minute journey. I took advantage and ordered a Black Butte Porter from Deschutes Brewing. I can't get Deschutes in Washington, DC, so I felt sort of a delicious obligation. Good choice. With Mt. Tam in the background, bidding us farewell, we said goodbye to Marin County.
Back in San Francisco, I walked up through my Chinatown, into Nob Hill and my old neighborhood, over to Polk Street, and met up with friends and my sister at William Cross Wine Merchant. It was just as wonderful as I remembered it! Great art on the walls, painted by the bartender/shop manager/wine guru/artist Jeremy Armstrong himself, and interesting music playing in the background. We all took a seat at the bar and enjoyed drafts of Weihenstephaner Dunkle and Steigl while we laughed and caught up with one anothers gossip. My sister tried to purchase some of Jeremy's art, but at $7000 a canvas, we determined that they were a little too big and a little too expensive to fit in her carry-on. Damn.
Apparently, Weihenstephan beer comes from the oldest existing brewery in the world, The Bavarian State Brewery, which dates back to 1040. Steigl beer, from Salzburg, comes from a word meaning "stairs" and was reportedly the biggest brewery in Salzburg back around 1650. Both were delicious, but my favorite was the Weihenstephaner.
At the end of the evening, Kellan and I cabbed back to her house and stayed up chatting for awhile before deciding to call it a night. Tired and full, I fell asleep in no time. Not bad for a Friday.
