Mecca for the wayward imbiber. The Holy Grail of festivals. Beer Central. Pour-fection. Call it what you like, but there’s no denying that Toronto’s Festival of Beer, aka the Beer Fest for those who prefer the less formal moniker, has come a long way. Or so I’ve been told. (Bashful Note: I’d never gone before this year. Why? I cannot answer, as after Friday’s antics with Sam it’s evident that I have greatly missed out.)
When Nicki assigns a vlog on something like Toronto’s Festival of Beer, my loins shudder in anticipation for several reasons: 1) I get to high-tail it out of the office early on a Friday; 2) I have to drink as much beer as possible to be able to get the full experience; 3) Getting tipsy moves from the realm of Possible Bad Mistakes to the realm of Necessity for Work.
Now, the vlog below details but a minute section of the 6-hour-long Adventures of Sexy Brit and Balding Twit. It can be difficult to say the least to vlog under these circumstances. After your first few beers, you forget to pull the camera out. After the next few, you forget you were working at all. A few more, and all you can think is “Dude! I gotta get all up in Salt-N-Pepa’s face with the camera!”
So while we only “sample” two or three beers in the vlog, we actually tried about 25 or so between the two of us. Sam’s ability to remain lucid through the endless barrage of beers is testament to her British roots. My ability to remember the lyrics to any Mariah song on-demand during the same “predicament” is partly why I’m not so ashamed of my ever-growing beer gut.
As for the brews that delighted our palates at Toronto’s Festival of Beer…Nickel Brook Green Apple was better than almost any cider I’ve ever tried, save for the delicious Foundry Golden Cider that I will most certainly be buying; St. Ambroise Raspberry Wheat is fruit beer heaven; Waterloo Dark is deeply satisfying; Dead Elephant was trunk-a-licious; Iron Spike Copper was better than a penny’s worth; Innis and Gunn Canada Day 2012 had me feeling patriotic; Lucky Buddha was better than a belly rub; and…well…that’s all I can really. After 8pm we kinda lost track.
The food at Toronto’s Festival of Beer was better than expected, with a delectable lobster tail from Rock Lobster; some great Ox Heart Philly Cheesesteak from The Feasting Room; The Dawgfather’s “no lips and nothing below the hips” hot dogs on buttery top-sliced buns were better than any jumbo ball-park frank; and the brisket sandwich we nabbed on the way out from a spot whose name I’m lost on was the perfect end to our night.
Oh…and Salt-N-Pepa was there, in case that sparks some throwback memories for ya. (But for me, My Son the Hurricane with the two rural white boy rappers was a far superior hit.) And(!) I got to smoke a cigar. Now I can legit say I’ve got swagger.
