Good People Brewing Co. Collectivelly Sell Souls to Devil, Gets Baseball Park Built Across Street

IMG_3473It seems too good to be true: a small Birmingham craft brewery looking to make it big moves to an out of the way warehouse in Alabama, a state peculiarly unfriendly to beer makers and just downright rude to beer drinkers. Before them obstacles fall and opportunities arise. The City of Birmingham green lights a plan to build a new 8,500 seat stadium for AA baseball’s Birmingham Barons directly across the street from them. The pro-beer organization Free The Hops successfully lobbies the state legislature to pass The Brewery Modernization Act allowing them to open a tasting room bar in the brewery itself. Luck? Insider knowledge? Well placed bribes? Shrewd business sense? On condition of anonymity, a Good People Brewery employee gives mightstainyourshirt.com a glimpse of those behind an ambitious brewery on the cusp of realizing their dreams.

“It has to be about the beer,” says our insider, Qfwfq (not his real name). “The beer has to come first. If you skimp on ingredients, if you take shortcuts, you fail yourself and you fail your customers. Early on… we were learning as we went so, sure, we played up the Good People ethos,” he continued. “Not exactly ‘oh shucks’ or anything like that, but we knew there would be mistakes in the beginning so we adopted an attitude that said to our customers ‘Look, we make great beer, but the scope of this thing is new to us. We will fuck something up, but we are on the lookout and whatever mistakes we make, we’ll fix.’ People understand that. If you let them know where you are headed and demonstrate that you are on the path, they forgive the occasional foamy keg or sour ale.” He pulled on his cigarette and looked at me with earnest eyes. “We made it this far and can see even brighter days coming. We have a product we are really excited about, experience, and a tried and true process that consistently scores us high caliber brews. We are where we want to be now, but I really feel like it was our ability to convey our goals to our customers that kept us afloat in the early days. As a back up, we sold our souls to Satan, our Dark Lord and Master.” Continue reading

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Literary Cravings Part The Second: Oxtail and Barley Soup

Game of ThronesAs I have mentioned before on these electronic pages, I have no defense against a well written description of food. I want what the characters in the book I’m reading are eating and I want it regardless of season, availability, or health implications. There are limits. I don’t see myself salivating over any passages containing sensibility shocking words like “mayonnaise” or “mustard” but I can scarce imagine any author of talent jarring their readers with such grotesques any more than I would expect them to us the phrase “genital warts” when describing a love scene. Doesn’t work (even in a parenthetical).

I am currently reading the series A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin (“R.R.” apparently being to creators of immersive epic fantasy what “Earl(e)” was to killers over the last couple of centuries). Continue reading

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Lenten Friday Recipe: Marcella Hazan’s Fish In Crazy Water

Medieval PoachingThis is an interesting take on sous vide done with out the wrap in a process called “poaching.” The practice of poaching began in the Late Middle Ages when peasants were banned from hunting wild animals, such pursuits being reserved for the nobility. Although poaching the King’s deer or pheasants was punishable by death in many places, the practice proved nearly irresistible to the peasant classes, enamored as they were of eating game in this fashion.

Poaching continues to this day, though is mostly limited to reserves or protected areas of Asia and Africa. Occasionally a case of poaching is prosecuted in the United States. Best to check your local ordinances before trying out this Italian classic from Marcella Hazan. Continue reading

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Hangovers, Scotsmen, and a Certain Team That Won A Certain National Championship Game Last Night

Glaswegian cough syrup.

Glaswegian cough syrup.

When you wake up with a hangover, the first thing to attempt to bring into focus is that you probably had a good time the night before. Of course there are hangovers that follow bad things like the passing of friends, divorces, or the election of a Democrat, but more common in my experience are hangovers preceded by wonderful things: weddings, holiday gatherings with friends and family, or increasingly, the victory of your favorite college football team in the BCS National Championship Game.

I can’t speak for everyone as different fan-bases experience different emotions and have different reactions over the course of a given season, but fans of a certain team which I won’t mention out of respect to the rest of the college football world have got to be saying to themselves, “Damn. This is the third hangover I’ve had in four years. Why does my team keep doing this to me? Do we have to be champions so often?” It’s getting to be a real inconvenience and one that is not likely to go away. I read several articles about the team this morning and the word “Dynasty” appeared prominently in most of them. What is a fan to do? Continue reading

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Some Things of Interest 12/7/12: Have A Greasy Kind of Christmas

John Travolta and Olivia Newton John are back! Ever since 1978 when they taught a generation of young girls that the only way to get the guy is to stop being yourself and just dress like a tramp, fans have been begging for a reunion. Shrewdly piggy backing their glorious return on the wave of John’s recent massage publicity, they are once again singing their way into our hearts:

Mind numbing? I wish. Unfortunately cognizant of the happenings on screen, my mind fought for an escape that was not to come. Note the 2:18 mark. Was I the only one who thought “Unattended Bags!”

Every so often, the mists clouding your mind clear, the cobwebs part, and clarity ushers in revelation. Something before you, so obvious now, but never noticed before leaps forward. How could you have missed it? How did something so blatant need to be realized in the first place? I had such a moment yesterday while reading about football. Galaxy Quest is The Three Amigos in space. It’s the exact same plot.

Marcella CucinaNew Cookbook! New Cookbook! I’ve made no secret on these electronic pages about my love for Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. She is hands down the best cookbook author I have come across. I want to have her children or some other fawning cliche. I recently picked up Marcella Cucina and am again rapt. Abruzzi style tomato sauce with lamb (page 174) is right up my wheelhouse (I have heard that phrase four or five times this week and have no idea what it means) but I had no idea how much it had impressed until two days after we first made it when my wife came home from the grocery store with the ingredients to make it again. Hazan’s instructions are clear, each recipe is introduced with an observation or anecdote from her travels, and all in crisp prose. It’s worth buying just for her note on the evils of finishing sauces with some of the water the pasta was cooked in. She tut tuts with the best of them.

NCAA Football: SEC Championship-Alabama vs GeorgiaI mentioned football a moment ago. It has not escaped my notice that my beloved Crimson Tide is playing for it’s third national championship in four years. These are the salad days. A lot has been made about Georgia’s coach Mark Richt’s supposed mishandling of the final drive against Alabama in the SEC championship game. It’s a widely held belief that had he spiked the ball, he would have had time for two or three plays. Critic also point to the outcome as evidence that Richt’s decision to run a play was the wrong one. Richt correctly points out that spiking the ball takes time. Had the final fade gone long or been dropped there would still be time for another play. Add that Alabama has had trouble dealing with hurry up offenses and that a spike would have allowed Alabama to bring in different personnel and the decision makes more sense. As per usual, Smart Football has a good take on things gridiron here. To paraphrase on of the comments on that post, Georgia took a calculated risk and calculated risks should not be judged by the results.

Etc. A brief history of Ketchup… So what do you do for a living?… Enjoying your burger Earth hater?… I will be the the first to buy the t-shirt!… “I was surprised at the amount of contraband and drugs that can be put in a football,”… Just read the reviews.

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P.O.E.T.S. Day: Walt Whitman, The Anti-P.O.E.T.S. Day “Poet”

Walt WhitmanFrom the more rugged part of the British Isles, where whisky is spelled properly, we take the P.O.E.T.S day tradition (Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday). This week’s patron falls somewhat outside of the traditional P.O.E.T.S. Day mold, having never been in prison, died of natural causes, and only rumored to have been tarred and feathered for sodomy although all his biographers call BS. Side note: who believes I have read all his biographers?

When someone says modern in poetry, they rarely mean modern in the modern sense. They mean modern in the passe, pre-Post-Modern sense. Historian Paul Johnson captured the mood of in his excellent Birth of the Modern: World Society 1815-1830According to Johnson, Einstein and Freud did science and non-scientific types adapted the concepts to everyday life. Relativity seeped into the psyche, so to speak. I’m on record as loving Modern Poetry while generally hating modern poetry. The former were kick ass war poets who had serial muses while the latter net less scribblers have so cheapened the form by including any indented rant as poetry that nothing can not be counted as a poem. P.J. O’Rourke, In Holidays In Heck, quips, “More modern poetry is written than read.” He’s right. Rhyme and meter are hard and require real work. Free verse requires a turtle neck, a sense of entitlement, and a deep distrust of parental values. Whitman, the father of free verse, is to blame. Continue reading

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Black Friday Idiocy and Questions You Should Ask Your Accountant

Itzaida Díaz. Hands down. Best accountant in the free world, manages money like a champ and understands that time and money are the same thing. Case in point: No one better understands the economic benefit of time well spent. Others waste billable hours doing billable things. Diaz camps out in front of Best Buy for five days in order to save an estimated $200 on her $1500 worth of planned purchases.

Financial planning is no science, an art at best, except for all that math that makes it kind of like a science. So to those that point out that Diaz could, at only eight hours a day at minimum wage while ignoring completely the other sixteen hours a day she spends waiting for her ship to come in, pocket the extra $90 miss the point. According to the web site Best Accounting Schools, which admittedly is dying for you and all youren to become accountants claims “The average salary for an accountant in 2008 was $65,840 per year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.” Well played Ms. Diaz. Well played. Continue reading

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Foccaccia Pizza with Anchovies and a Bit of Flash Fiction, Because, Why Not?

I was so happy with my jaunt into to baking that isn’t really baking because it’s only flat bread that I’ve gone and done it again. The classic Neopolitan thin crust pizza with tomatoes, anchovies, mozzarella, and basil as seen through different, more discerning eyes that envisioned it on thick, dense bread. But as it turns out, the more discerning eyes were bleary and bloodshot because as good as it was on foccaccia, it was a sad shadow, a bloated sad shadow, of what Naples blessed us with all those many years ago. With these ingredients, stick with thin crust.

Still, it looked great. So great that my enthusiasm for capturing it overcame my circumspection. I failed to remove the volumes of poetry that are my constant cooking companion and aid me in aligning competing muses through various shakras. I’m embarrassed. Really I am. Continue reading

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P.O.E.T.S Day: Christopher Marlowe

From Scotland, the top of the world’s acceptable living conditions, we take the finest tradition of the working class: P.O.E.T.S. Day (Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday). This weeks patron is Christopher “Kit” Marlowe, so possibly Shakespeare if you forgot your aluminum foil hat.

Marlowe’s first problem was his name. Not all Christophers are called Kit. But of those that I came across in historical records that did enjoy the nickname, many of them – Kit Carson, Kit Burns, Kit Coleman, and Kit Klein – died. Parents take note when choosing your child’s name. Continue reading

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Freaking Awesome Turkey Sandwiches with Kale Chips

The simple pleasures are almost always the best, especially when you can wreak unholy havoc on them by increasing the complexity of each and every step of assembly with the clear and certain goal of making an amazing mess of your kitchen. Indelible jam stains on your shirt? Check. Flour on the baby’s forehead? Check. Olive oil on the …. if you can name it, there was olive oil on it. (There are two readers who know who they are and should be ashamed of themselves.)

First off, jettison that loaf of bread you bought at the store. We are doing this like our forefathers did when they weren’t making our foremothers do all of the cooking. Throw out that bag of chips while you are at it. This is roughing it in a very easy-to-adapt-to-prepackaged-ingredients type of way. Continue reading

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