special delivery

This one came as a present direct from Poland when a fellow language student went home for a visit.  9 hours in a bus to Prague, almost that long in a suitcase to Madrid, a couple of days in the fridge to cool off...at least it didn't explode.

Never an unappreciated gift

It has a clear, light golden color, very similar to German brews.  The head is snowy white and abundant, although not terribly lasting.  The beer isn't especially aromatic, but leaning into the glass a little reveals promising sharpness, a simple and direct odor, nodding towards a clean taste and thirst quenching.  The flavor doesn't disappoint.  It's sweeter than I expected from the hops featured prominently on the label, but not overwhelming.  Definitely not an intrusive beer, delicately flavored even, not something that would compliment a strong-tasting snack I think.  Unsalted nuts might be good, maybe very mild cheese.  Now I have a another reason to visit Poland, besides it just being there.

Vacations

It was a fitting topic, chosen for discussion just before the regular vacation time started up in Madrid, although I had already left for mine when the meeting happened.  My thoughts come after my vacation month.

Generally, we think of a vacation as a time when we travel to relax.  We unwind, we disconnect, we recharge before going back to the rat race.  Of course, not all vacations involve traveling, as many children at home during summer vacation well know.  So, changing locations must not be essential to the idea.  What may be the foundation of the experience is the break in routine.  The Organizer pondered this in his collection of thoughts for the topic, which argued the biological necessity of such breaks and bemoaned the fast pace of modern life and production just a bit.  The Philosopher also mentioned vacations as signs of a society that values its members, as guaranteed and legislated vacation is something considered a benefit rather than an inarguable need, such as sleep.

What makes a vacation different from other types of rest?  For one thing, a vacation spans days.  Nobody takes an hour's vacation.  We can suppose that the connection of travel and rest make this necessary, since many people travel to places that require hours to get to.  In many instances, these vacation destinations are natural areas, or at least less urban than where the vacationers are coming from: beaches, mountains, and campgrounds are prime examples.  In these places, travelers perform some physical activities different from those they might do everyday, or refrain from almost all physical activity as they lie on the sand, sit by the water or in a boat, or relax next to a campfire. 

There are also "cultural" vacations, however, in which travelers are given the opportunity to visit historic cities, full of museums and landmarks.  This type of vacation seems to be less physically relaxing, given that travelers are often required to tramp through streets and buildings, sometimes running to catch buses, or ascend towers and elevated geographic areas to observe and partake in the culture they offer.  If rest is a necessary component of a vacation, how can these trips be considered as such?  Maybe rest is only a possibility.  Maybe, as the Organizer mentioned, the real necessary ingredient in a vacation is the change in routine.  Whether a vacationer does nothing or tries a thousand activities, they are not what she does in normal life.  They can be hobbies she normally cannot dedicate much time to, sports or amusements she has no time to even try.  Most people who work 50 or 60 hour weeks long for a time to sleep in, to wake up without knowing they have to hurry somewhere.  On vacation, you can create your own schedule, and not feel guilty if you forget about it completely.  This is something different for a great number of people in our society, as they work for others and are responsible to them, so having greater control over their time can be a delicious change.

So far, we have said that a vacation can involve travel, might be based on relaxation, but is almost certainly dependent on being a change in daily routine.  Could we make the argument that by refusing to establish a routine we would have "vacations" everyday and be constantly happy and relaxed with our lives?  Not likely.  While humans do need time for recovery after making any kind of effort in their lives, there is also a psychological tendency to seek out and set routines for the majority of us.  We are pattern seeking animals that often find comfort in familiarity, whereas change is stressful and difficult to deal with.  Infrequent change, such as an annual vacation, is tolerable and even welcome because the stress of the change in habits is reinterpreted as excitement, and is of a different sort than everyday stress anyway.  Vacations are fun because they come after long intervals of routine.  "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," when we think of shaking up our daily habits.

Another question connected to vacations is that of happiness.  Most people imagine the perfect vacation to be one in which they do nothing, even if their real vacations are packed with activities.  Plenty of people even imagine the perfect life to be one free from effort, in which one can live slumped in a lounge-chair or sprawled in a bed while every need is filled by others.  Yet, we know that many people with the financial means to do so do not stop working or taking an active role in the world.  In addition, many people who do drop out of that kind of lifestyle do not seem to find happiness or satisfaction, becoming bitter and frustrated with their existence (and perhaps that of other people who do not automatically validate the loafer's as the center of the universe).  Cracked's list of things we might be surprised to find can cause happiness includes doing chores, as well as multitasking.  We might reason that this is because human beings like to feel that we accomplish things, since accomplishment is a sign of value and worth, something concrete that we can point to in order to promote ourselves to others.  Even if our accomplishments remain secret to all except ourselves, we need to have goals and projects to complete, the feeling that we have purpose and something to work towards.  Wait, what does this have to do vacations?  Sometimes the best vacation is not one that involves travel or doing nothing to relax; as pointed out above, sometimes it is that time we can set aside to focus on hobbies or interests that are normally afterthoughts or time fillers before we fall asleep to prepare for the next day's routine.

white summer

Gruit became known to me at the last craft beer fair, where their low-hop, high sweet brew was a little something different.  Many of the breweries were featured prominently on beer store shelves for some time after that, having done the job of impressing the owners looking for new possibilities.

It comes out with a strange, watery color.  If I didn't know it was a witbier, it would be alarming.  The collected liquid in the glass has a little more color, just a touch of yellow.  The head is white, like marshmallow fluff, and you almost expect it to come close to that sweetness.  The smell is sweetish, but extremely light.  I can just detect a whiff of flowers.  The taste is also quite mild, neither bitter nor particularly sweet.  It makes me think of watered down apple juice.  The literature likens it to dry white wine, and there is a small similarity in the color and unintrusive flavor.  I remember Gruit's Blond being much heavier on the sweet than the Wit is, which hasn't been my experience with other wits.  It doesn't have the fruitiness of Hoegaarden or Medina Blanca, although once it warms up a little there is a fleeting bit of sweet that centers on the back of the tongue.  It has that Belgian tendency to save a little taste surprise at the bottom of the bottle, but where I usually find it too sour from bigger breweries, Gruit hits with a little citrus and a little contrast that really sets off the flavor, even with most of the glass empty.

that's no rising sun

 Although the label looks almost like a painting of Mexican wrestling, Baird Beer is made in Japan.  So, is it going to be something light and inoffensive, daring and odd, or as normal as can be?
There is a nice vaguely sweet smell from the pouring beer, which isn't quite as dark as I thought it might be.  Can't judge a beer by its bottle.  The off-white head does pile up nicely.  The taste is slightly more sour than I usually like from browns, but it's offset by a sort of chocolatey flavor wrapped around it.  There's a bit of stouty earthiness in there too.  Quite nice, over all, a perfectly acceptable offering.  The website lists some more adventurous concoctions, which I'll have to be on the lookout for, at least out of curiosity.  No wasabi or kelp, though.

But who knows what'll happen next time?

preparation 2

Once there was a man who lived in little village.  He and his family were very poor, so one day when a storm took the roof off their shack, he could only go to the altar by the road to pray for help.  The altar was for St. John Nepomuk, so naturally that's who he prayed to, but the saint did not appear.  Instead, a dove appeared.  "I can help you, poor man," it said, "But later you have to help me."  The man agreed, thinking that a dove couldn't ask for very complicated help.  "Good," said the dove, "Now go home.  In the garden you will find tools and material to fix your roof.  When your roof is fixed, offer to help your neighbors.  When nobody needs more help, return here and hear my request."

The man went home, as the dove told him, and found the tools and material.  He and his sons fixed their roof and then went to the neighbors to offer help to them.  Once all was complete, the man went back to the altar and saw the dove sitting on top of it.  "Now hear my request: your youngest son will marry my oldest daughter."

The man worried about what his son would say, but he brought him to the altar.  When they arrived, a beautiful young woman stepped out from behind it.  The young people fell in love immediately and were happy to marry.  After the wedding, they went away to a cabin in the woods for a year and a day.  A problem arose the very first night.  When the sun went down, the new wife turned into a crow, and flew out the window.  When the sun rose, the crow returned to the cabin and was a woman again.  This happened every night.  After the year and the day had passed, they returned to the poor man's home, and the son told his father of his trouble.  The young woman started to cry and said, "Everything your son says is true.  My family is cursed and I am the only one who is even sometimes human.  Will you help us, father-in-law?"  The poor man had no idea how to help, but he wanted his son to be happy, so he agreed.

He went back to the altar to pray, and this time neither the saint nor the dove appeared.  Instead, he heard a voice that said, "I can help."  The voice came from the bottom of a nearby well.

"You can break the curse?"

"Oh yes, it's no problem.  I know how it started.  Your daughter-in-law's great-grandmother offended an air spirit, who then cursed the whole family.  I can remove it, but I need to be surrounded by trees."

"Wait a moment, and I'll find a ladder or a rope."  The man was very happy to have a simple problem.

"No, no," said the voice, "I can only escape with a living thing.  You must find a magic vine that will grow from the water."

The man sighed.  Nothing was easy.

The man and his son set off the next morning.  They went all around the village doing chores and asking about the vine, but nobody knew anything about it.  Then they went to the city with the same idea and had the same luck.  In the evening, sad, they started home.  They had just left the city when suddenly, a man on the road called to them: "Hello, hello!  Good sirs!"

"What is it, chapman?" They could see by his cart of wares he was a chapman. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes there is, my good...carpenter?"  The chapman was looking at the toolbox, "My horse has thrown a shoe.  I simply cannot travel without a horse." He pointed to the heavily loaded cart.  The poor man opened the box and found a hammer and nails, although he did not remember seeing them there before.  He managed to fix the shoe, at least for a while, and the chapman said to him, "Thanks, good sir, many thanks!  I carry no great luxuries, but perhaps your lady wife or daughter would like this cotton cloth?  The dye is guaranteed not to fade."

"You are most generous, good chapman," said the poor man, "and my wife would certainly like this cloth, but what we need now is information, not goods.  You wouldn't happen to know where we could find a magic vine that grows in water, would you?"

"Coincidentally, just this afternoon I made a delivery to the giant of the Black Castle.  In spite of his fearsome reputation, he is an excellent gardener, and uses my cloth to protect his young plants.  He will have the vine you want, or know where to find it."

The son was overjoyed.  "Father!  We can go to the castle now and speak to the giant this evening!  What luck!"  The man was not happy, since he was afraid of the giant, but he wanted to help his son, so they went.  Night had fallen when they arrived and the black gate towered dark above their heads.  The man lifted the knocker and let it fall.  Immediately, a voice shouted: "Go away!  I don't know anything about any maidens!  And I don't want any encyclopedias!"

"But good giant," said the man in a trembling voice, "we just want to ask you about a magic vine that grows in water.  The chapman said you could help us."  The gate swung open and the giant stood there before them.  He was ugly, with black eyes and dirty clothes.

"Come right in!" he roared, "Somebody interested in gardening!  Fantastic!"  And the poor man and his son entered the giant's garden.  They sat in a small patio and the giant brought them large mugs of mead.  The three drank together and the man and his son explained what had happened to them and what they needed to do.  The giant listened and nodded.  When they finished the tale, he said, "It just so happens that I have some seeds right now.  I've been working on them for a couple of months.  Maybe that plant is what you need.  But..." and the giant stopped.

"But what?" cried the man.

"That plant is valuable, you know, I can't just give away my seeds."

"Perhaps, this cloth..." the man began, uncertainly.  The giant laughed loudly at him.

"The chapman already brought me cloth.  Maybe you have a daughter?"

All the way home, the man worried that none of his daughters would agree to marry the giant and he would never get the magic vine.  The poor man had ten children, five sons and five daughters.  The oldest daughter was tall and a little heavy, with small black eyes and hair that always looked unwashed.  But she was also clever, with more common sense than her brothers and sisters together.  She knew this was her best opportunity to marry.  "What woman wouldn't be happy with a garden full of flowers?" she said.

The very next day the poor man, his son and his daughter went to the castle.  Now the man worried that the giant would reject his daughter, and be angry.  They arrived at the castle, knocked at the gate, and the giant opened it.  For a moment, the giant and the man's daughter stared at each other, then the daughter said loudly, "Father!  You didn't tell me my new husband was so handsome!"

The giant roared with laughter and said, "Little man, I've always wanted an intelligent wife!  Looks like a breeder, too.  Do you like children, m'dear?"

"Of course.  My mother had ten."

"Perfect!  We can start right away!"  And daughter and giant strode off towards the castle, arm in arm.

"Good gardener giant..."

"Yes?  You need something, father-in-law?"

"Er...the seeds..."

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, of course," and the giant dug around in his pockets and pulled out a handful of seeds.  He examined them carefully and chose one large, golden one.  "Here.  This seed should serve your needs.  And come visit soon!  With the wife!  She'll want to see the grandkids!"

Then they all said goodbye, and the man and son went back home.  "My god," thought the man to himself, "A giant for a son-in-law, a crow for a daughter-in-law, who would have foreseen it?"

Once home, the man went to the well and tossed in the seed.  He saw a glow in the bottom and the voice said, "It's working!  Now we must wait about half an hour for the vine to reach the top."  The man went for his son and his son's wife, and the three of them were waiting when the owner of the voice climbed out of the well.  They couldn't tell if it was man or woman.  It had long hair that covered it like a cloak and was tall and slender.  It saw their confusion and smiled, "I am a nymph.  Seventy years ago, a young man fell in love with me, but not I with him.  He got angry and threw me in the well."

"Oh dear," mumbled the poor man, "I think that man was my grandfather.  He told us the story of the fairy many times, but I never really believed him."

"Don't worry," said the nymph, "Seventy years is nothing much for an immortal.  Besides, your grandfather wasn't a bad man.  He was sorry he'd done it, but he never knew where to find the vine."

"Can you break my curse now?" asked the young wife.

"It's already broken," answered the nymph as it disappeared among the trees.  And indeed, just then a man wearing gold and purple robes and silk slippers approached them.

"Father!" screamed the young woman and she ran towards him.

"Yes, daughter, we are free," said the man, and they hugged tightly.  "Now, dear man, the time has come for me to thank you.  I am a rich and powerful raj from the East, and I assure you my thanks will be generous."

"I wasn't hoping for a reward, I just wanted to help."

The raj stared hard at the poor man.  "I have a lot of money and a lot of pride.  I will not accept that you do not accept my reward as thanks."

The poor man agreed, and naturally, soon he was no longer poor.  The raj bought him a country house and lands, and gave him money so that his children could do what they wanted.  Some wanted to marry, some wanted to go away to study, and one son opened a shop in the city.  The raj's daughter stayed with her husband in the village, but every year an elephant wearing a jeweled golden cloth came to take her to visit her family in the East, and after a week and a day, she returned.

a taste of honey

Friends and relatives occasionally have messages and opinions about mead, and while this isn't exactly the same thing, it's enough for the very tiny bit of remotely possible viking I could possibly have in my genetic background.

I thought it was a man with a mask at first

The beer has just a touch of honey in the aroma and in the color.  It looks like many craft beers, with a cloudy, unscrubbed look, but the color is even and appetizing.  The head is white and fluffy but not overabundant.  The taste is also sweet and honeyed, but with an undercurrent of bitter.  It does get a little stickier over time, but it's never overpowering.  I don't think it's a good beer for snacks, especially ones that have a strong taste of their own.  Perhaps some very mild cheese would work.

Ain't I sweet?

in disguise

I do love my stouts, although recently IPAs have been attractive and satisfying.  The large print of Imperial Black drew my hand right to it, but then I saw it was actually an IPA.  Should be interesting.

The label lists a number of flavorful ingredients and there is a mild spicy scent when the bottle is opened.  Despite appearances, the smell is IPA all the way, slightly citrusy and sour in a pleasant way.  The taste is a mix of herbal ale and creamy stout, flavors that make an odd clash at first but begin to find their places on the tongue after a couple of sips.  At first I thought the blend was something at least a little psychological, since the beer would fool anyone looking at it into thinking it was a normal stout, but rechecking the label shows a "malt base", so there is some reality in the smooth/sharp coupling.

Better than any Guinness I've had