the cool kids

i've been drinking beer for a long time...could it be 12 years now? i am starting to feel like i have this better understanding - a fluency really - about what to order based on my moods, the weather, the occasion, and so on.

standing in front of a case stocked to the teeth with hundreds of fantastic bottles no longer gives me that weird choice anxiety. even the bearded beer dude coming over to chat feels less intimidating now that i can accept that he's not showing off - he just gets true smiles from sharing all his nerdy, sudsy wisdom.

it's no brewmaster geeky secret, though, that as temperatures rise lighter, crispier, often wheat-y beers come into vogue. a glass of berliner weisse or super cold pale ale in blue skied july is divine, melting the edges of even the most gnarly humidity induced angst. much like music selection and lighting schemes, the right beer at the right time can really pull everything together.

but where to go when the mercury reaches sadistic new heights and that coriander flecked white beer might as well be a coffee porter? when the only food that can rouse the least bit of your appetite is raw fruit? when the only energy you can expend is staggering towards a cold shower like a sweaty zombie?

now pull yourself together, man! it's Shandy Time. so round up some fresh fruits, cold beers, and a fistful of fresh herbs and get on this road to recovery. shandies are all the rage in philadelphia this summer, popping up at menus high brow and low. of course i've sampled a few of these offerings, and while the good ones are indeed quite good (the jolly rancher inspired watermelon shandy at morgan's pier and the lemonhead scented one at pub & kitchen are two of the more memorable), but they're often too cloying for my taste. sweetness alone does not equal refreshment for me, quite the contrary, so i thought through a way to find more balance in this juicy beer cocktail (oh, could there be any three words more lovely together??), and this is where i ended up.

instead of starting with an already-fruited beer, i cracked a lovable, affordable, and fuss free standard: sly fox royal weisse. allagash white or walt wit would do just fine, too. since some distinct flavors are going in the mix, a beer of too high quality or rarity might be overwrought. keep it simple, as this cold one may be a matter of survival.

Watermelon Rosemary Shandies
~ makes 4
~takes 5 or 10 minutes, depending on how quick/slow you're moving

ingredients:
a 6 pack of sly fox royal weisse (you'll only need 3 for this recipe, but you'll want a second round, trust me)
about 4 cups of watermelon, seeds optional
2 lemons
3 sprigs of rosemary, leaves stripped off the stems
2 tablespoons rice syrup (another sweetener is fine...just keep the ratio low so you don't make the simple syrup too sweet)

- bring about a 1/4 cup of water to a boil and add the rice syrup or other sweetener. stir til dissolved and take off the heat. add the rosemary and let it steep while it cools. you want to ideally get a lot of herbal flavor, so the longer the better.

- roughly chop the watermelon and puree in a food processor or blender. whiz the hell out of it. strain the juice through a mesh sieve. if you don't mind a texture-y drink, leaving the pulp in could be good, too.

- roll the lemons under your palm to get their juices flowing. cut each in half.

- fill 4 pint glasses with ice. pour the beer about 2/3 of the way up, then squeeze half a lemon in each glass. a seed or two might fall in but that's ok. top off each glass with a healthy slug of watermelon juice, then stir in teaspoon or two of the rosemary syrup. taste and adjust with little splashes of beer, juice or syrup til those suckers are right where you want them. if there's a little beer left over in one of the three cans you opened, well that's just a little bonus for you being such an awesome friend to share these drinks with your pals in their time of need.

- if, at the end of all this there is leftover watermelon juice, rejoice! a wee splash added to even the most sub-par light beer brings it to a sick new level of deliciousness.

viva variations: the lemons can be replaced with limes, or any other sour citrus (seville oranges at brunch time?), and of course the secondary fruit can be swapped to suite your tastes. watermelons are such a snap to puree and strain, though, and blend with the beer so happily, that i cannot recommend them enough. and the herbs really brings it all home, adding some bass to the constant high note that all the sweet and sourness brings. a shandy in your hand and an episode of Frozen Planet cued up, and hey look! you're making it through the heat in one piece.

love,

emily

beer soup for chilled bones

it feels like a very, very long time ago when i last posted, lamenting but also celebrating the finale of a really rad summer. when i wrote that (eep! over 2 months ago - sorry for the extended radio silence) autumn was just edging up against us, but now we're just full on in it: the late november cold rains and windy days. a mild day here and there helps to keep the spirits up, but soon we will have to accept the dawn of winter, which creeps a little closer with each day.

the only real respite from the hunched-shoulder, soggy boot trudge is a cheery yellow kitchen, with warm counter tops and sharp knives. dairy, dark beer, and vintage bowie are small but important accessories of comfort to usher in the premature evening without complaint. one recent particularly harsh weeknight, i decided to go all out and make a decadent recipe i'd been eying for awhile. this goldenrod soup - haughtier than pub grub but maintaining some working class charm - is a pretty quick dinner and you might already have all the ingredients nestled in your fridge. to our true vegan readers: i'm sorry, my more disciplined brethren, but this recipe is not for you.


a gently sauteed mirepoix creates a base for the vegetable broth, milk (heavy cream if you want to get real cray), and a medium bodied english beer. a literal heap of sharp cheddar cheese melts into something spectacular. the first bite of the finished product, silky and rich, is like a hug from the universe. hyperbole? make it yourself one night, as sharp rain pelts your window panes, and see if you don't agree.

Brawler Bisque extremely loosely adapted from a Gourmet recipe
~ takes about 40 minutes

ingredients:
1/4 stick of unsalted butter
1 medium white or yellow onion
2 carrots
2 stalks of celery
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 bay leaf
1/3 cup flour (all purpose, or any other kind to make it GF)
2 cups milk
2 cups vegetable stock (homemade is best)
1 12 oz bottle of english style ale (go local)
1 teaspoon mustard
4-8 ounces of shredded cheddar, totally depending on how cheese-ified you want the soup to be, plus the odds and ends of any forgotten cheeses in the drawer, also shredded
salt & pepper

- melt the butter in a soup pot over medium-low heat. dice up the onion, carrot, and celery and cook them in butter until tender and fragrant, about 5 minutes.

- add the bay leaf, garlic, salt and pepper. stir everything around in the butter for another minute or two. add the flour to the veg mix and try to coat everything in it. let it cook a bit more until the flour gets a bit golden. this is like making a little roux-on-the-fly.

- add the milk, veg stock, mustard and beer. simmer the pot, whisking from time to time. let the whole thing cook gently until the vegetables are softened and cooked all the way through. if you're using some carrots that have seen better days (like i did), they can be tough and might take a few extra minutes.

- turn off the heat and fish out the bay leaf. whizz up the beer-y soup with an immersion blender. if you need to use a regular blender, carefully transfer the soup in small batches, and may god have mercy on your soul.

- once the vegetables are well pulverized, turn the burner back on to a low flame. stirring all the while, add the shredded cheese one handful at a time. when all the cheese is melted, season with salt and pepper to taste.



pour yourself a glass of malty, strong beer to accompany your beer soup. i went with great lakes' edmund fitzgerald porter, a fine brew that fortifies the soul. the label on the bottle features a great ship battling a raging storm, not unlike us east coast kids battening down the hatches for the long winter ahead. i think if we can cook our way through it, we'll be just fine.

love,
emily

best coast // beast coast

well, by all accounts, the trip to san francisco was a raging success. we ate, we drank, we had extremely fun times with friends. we saw sights, relaxed, wrote postcards, ogled adorable dogs and their often adorable-r owners. the weather was sheer perfection: warm, breezy, humidity free. the kind of weather that just makes you super psyched on life; the kind of weather that allows you to eat a massive breakfast burrito and still feel energized and lusty. every day we woke up, walked outside and saw the cloudless sky, we'd giggle. "hey, look! another gorgeous day!!" no wonder californians generally seem more chilled out than most on the eastern seaboard.

it is also entirely possible that the deeply caffeinated, high quality coffee that these folks start their days with has something to do with all the good vibes, too.

if the caffeine gets on top of you, there's always a cold, hoppy beer just moments away from gently bringing you back down to earth.

can't even get into the breadth and depth of the amazingness of the food we consumed - that's fodder for another lengthy post entirely! you know, it's hard not to make east cost/west coast comparisons sometimes. by many accounts, the bay area is a nearly ideal city. there's just so much goodness there.

yes, it's expensive, and the economy is in major trouble. there are surely myriad social, political and practical problems that i'm not even remotely aware of, not being a resident of that city. but each day as i wandered around the mission taking it all in, i wondered to myself, "why is it again that i live in a gritty, troubled city full of hardened, pissed off people?" still, stumbling out of the philadelphia airport on thursday and taking in that first breath of dank, humid oxgyen, i felt the unspeakable joy of Coming Home. the feeling of home-ness is so hard to define that it's almost mystical. you just know it when you feel it...

love,
emily

vacay, it's ok

not much to report from the rest of beer week besides sipping on a few cans of this new beautiful canned beer, working my ass off, and trying to find a few hours here and there to take care of business and relax. what can i say? my beer week plans always seem to get away from me. i'm resolved to not care about it, though. there's always next year.

plus, i'm in full on, full swing (pre)vacation mode! ryan and i leave tomorrow for a week in san francisco and santa rosa. we'll put in some seriously necessary face time with brother steve, and BFF john s. i decided to celebrate my last day at work until next friday by spending my precious lunch hour watching a few innings of the phillies game and drinking a nice, crispy wheat beer at a local watering hole.

boulder sweaty betty - so good!

new shades

i hereby resolve to take tons of photos of all the food and drink awaiting me in northern california. expect a mega post upon my return!

love,
emily

beer wk: sunday boozy sunday

what better way to delay the consequences of a fun saturday night of beers and excessive high fiving, than a boozy brunch with a beautiful broad? that's how i started my sunday - met up with my friend D for the beer week special allagash brunch at the pope. over pancakes, tofu scramble and 2PM beers, we kicked off what would be the first of a multi-hour hang out sesh.

wish every brunch was an allagash brunch

D is a seasoned bartending veteran and a true beverage connoisseur , so i followed her lead when she ordered the allagash vrienden, which turned out to be a stunning ale in the flemish sour tradition. it was, we learned, an allagash collabo with new belgium brewery, brewed with dandelion greens and elderberries (the two breweries even blended their special yeast strains! isn't that cute?). the quiet amber liquid in this glass is the stuff beer week dreams are made of: tart, fruity, strong, and just the right amount of weird. i loved every little sip. i had hoped to catch a bit of the live set by our pals the glotones, but alas, they were breaking their gear down when we arrived.

after our plates were cleaned and cleared, D and i hightailed it over to her place of employ - and the only place in old city i'll regularly patronize - the khyber pass pub. they were in the midst of a supreme beer week jam: saison sunday! ten rare and immensely intriguing saisons on tap. oh dear.


the first of quite a few tulip glasses to grace the bar before us was la moneuse by the belgian brewery blaugies. malty, barn-y, aged to a nice warmth, but still wonderfully effervescent on the tongue, this was a classic saison. literally the perfect beer for a sunday afternoon, though perhaps a brasserie in belgium would have been a slightly more perfect place to be drinking it. no matter: a dim bar in philadelphia with D was a really good place to be, too.

i must confess that i forget which saison was second on my list. the sun was still shining a bit too brightly for the level of tips i was feeling, but our spirits were high, and we were deep in one of those great, rambling conversations. amongst a hundred other things, we talked about men and relationships, food and dietary choices, and going fishing as little kids. the third (and last?) saison i ordered was voodoo brewery's bitchin' camaro. this farmhouse ale is apparently a very new release from the brewery. so new, in fact, that there wasn't really a description for it on the draft list, and in the column listing abv there a mysterious "?." i distinctly remember that the last line of the description read something like, "any beer named after a dead kennedy's song can't be bad." though D wasn't crazy about it, i liked the hefty, malty, boozy kick in the teeth it gave me. if you're already getting loaded on super high quality beers on a sunday afternoon, why not go big?

after dutifully chugging some water, we called it a day, and headed home. woozily walking down walnut at sunset, we hugged on the corner of 6th street. D said she was going home to take a nap, but i was headed off to band practice in east falls. being tipsy on small quantity of good, strong beer is a distinctly light, energizing feeling, with 0% hangover. alright, alright...maybe just a 5% one.

love,
emily

beer wk, day II

philadelphians, rejoice! beer week is upon us. you may find yourself musing, a bit confusedly, "but isn't every week beer week?" if you partake in regular happy hours, distributor perusals, geek outs with the dudes at hawthorne's, backyard/park bottle top pops, etc. then the short answer is Yes. but capital B Beer Week offers hundreds (almost a thousand, some report) of special events across the city and the region in celebration of suds, the geniuses who craft it, and the nerds who love them. the past few annual Beer Weeks have expired with me consistently feeling like i didn't take advantage of enough of the awesome happenings, and this year i am determined to not let that happen. it's really too bad that i am as yet iPhone-less, because they've even rolled out a beer week app to help keep track of all the madness! seriously. dumb-phone laden as i may be, i won't let this one slip away without sampling at least half my weight in saisons, double IPAs and other such glorious libations.

so, i had to work on friday night, and thus missed the official first day of beer week. however, i did jam a few much needed pints of sixpoint at the abbaye afterward, so maybe that counts for something? last night, post-ballgame, ry and i decided to bike over to fishtown to the 'it's a firkin riot!' event at johnny brendas. the night air was cool enough to require a denim jacket, and the ride across town was just lovely. we rounded girard to frankford ave. to the familiar, fuzzy sight of this fine bar.

inside, our pal herbie was spinning all manner of british tunes, and hoisted above the bar in a purely brilliant set up (whoever built this thing deserves many accolades), was a row of the firkins, tapped and pouring beer like there was no tomorrow. for a quick and painless explanation of what a firkin is - by a badass bearded brewer dude no less - see here. the firkin loft was even outfitted with packs of dry ice (i think) to keep the beers mildly chilled. i can't get over how cool this apparatus was.

the $5, 10 ounce pours allowed for a wide variety of tastes, but i was most impressed by the weyerbacher verboten, a belgian style pale ale with all the crispy, clean, gentle fruity yeasty-ness i could ever ask for. these went down easy peasy. a little too easy...

i also tried the standard pils, a new local collabo beer that was a delightful quaff. as a few sweet friends joined us at the bar, our glasses were emptied and refilled as our tab did grow. herbie kept it solid at the turntables, and the place just got more and more packed out. i hazily realized that one potential down side of these beer week shenanigans is the increased presence of douchey dudes. i almost NEVER get approached by men at bars, but last night i was hit on by not one, but a handful of drunk, drunkie drunk drunk amateurs. i will give a certain red-cheeked young fellow credit for at least using "what beer should i order?" as a pick up line, instead of whatever other hack bullshit the ladies of the world must endure.

the bike ride home was punctuated by a stop at maoz, followed by an impromptu 2am viewing of the film indecent proposal. in a stroke of luck, i don't have to work my usual shift this morning, and so could sleep in, rock some brunch, and prepare for the day's beery activities...long live my liver!

love,
emily

tap that

it's proof that a place is special when you've been there countless times, and each visit renews your love tenfold. this is how i feel about the south philly taproom. yeah, the service might not always be at 100%, but i'm learning to chill out and slow down in my older age, and not get all annoyed when a server is sort of moseying around instead of hustling toward my table. the rest of sptr (or "spitter," as i sometimes call it) kicks so much ass that i can safely call it one of my favorite bars/restaurants in philadelphia.

the decor and layout of this joint are spot on. during the day with the windows open, the dining room is happy and breezy. at night, rustic vintage light fixtures keep the bar dim and cozy (but not too dark), good tunes float through the speakers (but not too loud), and you and whomever you're with can settle in for a real good time. the draft list consistently reads as a who's who of local craft beermakers with a few midwestern, west coast, and international brew dudes thrown in for good measure. i can always find something i'm stoked to sip on, and they have, like, a majillion bottles to choose from if you're not feeling draft-y.

the food menu is also simply stellar with clearly marked vegetarian options aplenty. vegans, fear not: the spitter has got you covered. there are some decent soups and salads, but their vegan hoagie - packed to the gills with savory tempeh, marinated mushrooms, lettuce, tomato and thinly sliced red onion - is not to be missed:

there is a wonderfully unconscionable amount of vegan mayo on this roll

sandwiches come with a side of thick cut fries, chopped salad, OR pasta salad. hooray for choices! to boot, $3 gets you a dish of bangin house made pickles and, according to the omnivores i know, they also prepare delicious meats. for brunch, the dairy-free inclined can rock a very interesting plate of mushroom studded tofu scramble that comes flanked with a watercress salad and hard-to-describe but FANtastic white rice dumplings.

it really does something for me when an establishment has different kinds of seating for different kinds of moods. the taproom offers lots of options: well worn stools at the long, curved bar, plenty of high top tables, intimate low round tables, and a big booth in the back by the windows, perfect for gathering with ten or so of your BFFs.

best seats in the house

south hicks & mifflin maybe used to seem like a random corner for a great lil pub, but the neighborhood has come a long way, and outside tables provide copious people and cute dog watching. they also frequently host cool events, including a well edited selection for the impending 2011 philly beer week (including a lagunitas "420" event on june 9th featuring stoner snacks - does it get any better?). sptr- what can i say but: i love you!

xo,
emily

motto: friendship

lauren, halimah and i recently got back from a westerly sojourn to visit our dearest friend mary in houston,tx where she is studying architecture at rice university. besides little overnight trips here and there, this was my first real experience with a ladies only vacation. and let me tell you - it was amazing! we bonded deeply over serious confessions, embarrassing stories, nonsense jokes and sex talk. we stayed up late, whispered once the lights were out, slept in daily, traded accessories, shooed off male suitors in bars, and drove around listening to oldies.

but, perhaps most importantly, we ate and drank our asses off. from the high brow to the low brow, we left no culinary stone unturned. during a week when most americans are cursing themselves for their holiday indulgences, and swearing to do better this time around, our appetites took houston by storm. we scarfed trashy tex mex at chuy's, gorgeous waffles at baby barnaby's, light-as-a-feather gourmet pizzas at dolce vita, and simply perfect avocado tacos from the truck adjacent to possibly the best dive bar that side of the mississippi, the west alabama ice house.

my favorite meals, though, were the ones we prepared for ourselves in mary's tiny, charming kitchen. except for sunday brunch, we made breakfast each morning, small, balanced little meals, much like the ones i make at home before work. toast, coffee, yogurt, fruit.

there were a few lovely home cooked dinners, as well, usually preceded by a hasty trip to the nearby h-e-b for ingredients and beer. buying a 12-pack of cheap craft beer in a grocery store is such a succinct pleasure for a pennsylvanian. back at home base, we'd share the prep work with jangly tunes from the college radio station as our soundtrack. the fragrance from the simmering pot filled the small apartment, and a voice from the couch would pipe up, "what smells so good?" while i whipped up the salad dressing, mary would spread out her prized vintage place mats, and uncork the wine. finally, we would all sit down together, a tender ritual that recalled the glory days when we all lived under one roof in west philadelphia.

my favorite dinner was on saturday night. at that point, we'd been in houston for a few days and had all fallen into an easy groove with one another. there were still a few days standing between us and our departure, and if i stretched my imagination a bit, i could pretend that we'd never have to say goodbye. earlier that day, we drove out to galveston to rest our eyes on the gulf of mexico and explore the meager town. standing with my bare toes in the sand in early january, the wind whipping through the beleaguered palm trees, felt cinematic and intense.

as we returned to houston, restless from the sluggish highway traffic, we pulled off for late afternoon milkshakes from a charming diner. an hour later, overloaded on sugar and a bit regretful for it, we were all craving something inoffensive and clean for our pummeled palates. mary, who somehow always knows what's right for every occasion, suggested a fennel-studded tomato soup recipe from a homemade life, the beautiful memoir and cookbook from one of our favorite bloggers, molly wizenberg. lauren gifted me this book for christmas and i'd devoured nearly all of it on the plane ride from philly to houston just days before, so it seemed extra fitting. single handedly and with the grace of a true cook, mary put together the most splendid meal i've had in ages.

alongside the tomato fennel soup was a salad of lightly dressed bitter greens with apples and shaved aged provolone, a hunk of 3-seeded bread, and roasted cauliflower with a pungent, citrusy sauce. it was flawless. after the plates were cleared and the dishes done, we played rounds and rounds of our favorite card game, which became increasingly rowdy with each beer we drank. at some hazier point in the night, we popped a bottle of prossecco, and toasted to our love, which is especially appropriate in texas, where the state motto is "friendship."

Tomato Soup with 2 Fennels

from "A Homemade Life," by Molly Wizenberg

~serves 4-6 (generous helpings)~

~takes about 40 minutes~

ingredients:

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 yellow onion, thinly sliced

2 medium fennel bulbs, trimmed and thinly sliced (save some of the fronds for garnish)

4-5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

1 teaspoon fresh thyme or 1/2 tsp dried thyme

2 28 ounce cans whole or chopped tomatoes

water

3/4 teaspoon salt

sugar, to taste

pepper and vinegar, to taste

- in a dutch oven or soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. add the chopped onions and fennel, and sautee for 5 minutes.

- add the garlic, thyme and fennel seeds. cook, stirring occasionally, for another 5-8 minutes.

- if using whole canned tomatoes, crush them in a food processor, with your hands, or however else you'd like. if using pre-crushed, no need to crush further. in any case, add the tomatoes and their juices to the pot and stir everything together.

- fill one of the now empty tomato cans with water and add to the mixture.

- turn the heat down, and let the soup gently simmer, uncovered, for 40-45 minutes.

- when the fennel is very tender, and the tomatoes have reduced to make the soup taste full-bodied, it's done! add salt and pepper to taste. if the soup is too acidic for you, a pinch of sugar will mellow it out. if you want a little more bite, add a small splash of red wine vinegar.

- ladle into soup bowls, and top with a pinch of fennel fronds, and a dollop of yogurt or sour cream (optional, of course!).

- serve, very hot, preferably to a table of your best friends.

love,

emily