I wound up sharing some bar space with Chris Carlson last night. He’s a man with a passion for spirits. Gin, vodka, rum, you name it, he can speak about it with authority.

Carlson runs spiritsreview.com, on which he categorizes, rates and reviews not only the common stuff but also liquors from small artisan distillers (weren’t they called ‘moonshiners’ in days gone by?) from all over the freakin’ place.

You know, it’s tough enough on my liver just to be a beer writer. Imagine having to taste 100 proof vodka all day. I don’t know how he does it. All I can do is offer up a toast and pray for dude’s brain cells. Cheers, Chris!

In other news, I’m pissed off because I dropped my camera and broke my 50mm lens. So now I can’t post beautiful pictures of beer that are not monotonous in any way.  Oh well, at least I have a reason to wait for the UPS guy.

-Mark

My buddy Mike Cialini, obviously inspired by the excellent blog you are currently perusing, has posted his first beer review.

Actually, Mike’s blog, Leave the gun, take the cannoli, is one of my favorites. His grammar and spelling are an affront to the English language, but the man has a gift for over-the-top satire. Most priceless is his near-pathological disdain for the sport of soccer.

Enough pimping my friends. I’ve been reading a book called Beer, The Story of the Pint, by one Martyn Cornell. It’s a well-researched look at how the brewing industry in Britain developed up from Celtic times.

As a lover of the Teutonic brews, I Sometimes tend to dismiss British beers offhand. Reading about their development and place in society makes me want to dive back in and explore the gamut of milds, bitters, stouts, and pales that come from the isles. Look for my oh-so-fascinating insight in future posts and columns.

-Mark

My buddy Mike Cialini turns in a great analysis of Yankee Fans on his blog.

Being a true Yankee fan is more difficult than being a diehard supporter of any other team. Sure, it’s great when they win, and we get substantially more to cheer about than anyone else’s fans, but with each playoff exit, the torment that Yankee Fan has to endure by the smug and the envious is a heavy cross to bear.

Thing is, I could’ve been a fan of any team. My dad introduced me to major league baseball when I was six. He could’ve taken me to Exhibition Stadium, to kindle a following of the Blue Jays. He could’ve taken me to Three Rivers and I’d be bleeding Pirate…er… brown? yellow? But no, he took me to the Bronx, to see the team he had followed since the days of Mantle, Howard and Berra. He took me into the upper deck of the most amazing place I’ve ever been in my life.

Ths week has been harder on Yankee fans than most. The chemistry seems to be gone, or at least that’s how the media portrays it. Joe hung on to his job by a D-train strap, A-rod had a season most players would kill for and is being inexplicably run out of town on a rail. And then Corey. As a student pilot myself, I can only say trust me, he died doing something he loved.

Now, back to the consumption of beer.

-Mark

For reasons totally unrelated to beer, Bruce and myself will be travelling to Cleveland this February. While there, we hope to find a few good beer bars or micros and have a good old-fashioned epic pub crawl.

Hopefully, someone reading this blog can point us in the right direction.

-Mark