Afterglow 53

A few? several? months ago I heard? read? something by Louise Perry about a newer holiday. Or she was inveighing against newer holidays generally. Her gripe was that celebrations/commemorations of a more recent vintage have shallow roots, they don't have years of tradition behind them to bolster their potency by imbuing them with meanings honed through the ages and handed down to us moderns. It seemed a very silly complaint to lodge. I mean, traditions have to start somewhere; they weren't floating around in the ether waiting on human beings to grasp them; they were purposely created by people at some point to speak to the times in which they arose.

It seemed to be a case of chronological snobbery where new traditions were assumed to be inferior because...well, because. She didn't really offer an explanation and I felt her performance in the piece or podcast or whatever it was to be weak sauce in contrast to her usual thoughtful commentary. I think this was around the time she had converted to Christianity and so she was likely speaking with the zeal of the convert. New holidays, especially those that aren't Christian in nature, don't deserve our attention - their meanings and practices be damned. Age and Jebus are all the count. If her attitude had been more widespread back in the day, her beloved Christian holidays would never have gained traction. Imagine a 4th century Louise Perry arguing against this new-fangled Christmas holiday and instead lecturing people on the great virtues of Saturnalia.

This came to mind last Friday while I was driving north as it was Beltane. 1 May. While I'd rather have been standing around a bonfire marking the Wheel of the Year rather than sitting behind the Wheel of the Mazda, I at least had the consolation of meeting an old friend at the end of my journey. While I am unsure how Beltane celebrations today compare with those of ancient Celts, it really doesn't matter. The important thing is to enjoy all the flora you can as buds become leaves and the great outdoors simply becomes ever more verdant; to enjoy the warmer weather and prepare for planting as the last freeze date nears; and, if possible, linger near a fire. For me Beltane is the fulfillment of the promise of the vernal equinox. And a good excuse to send my friend in Milwaukee a card with a bunch of cats dancing around a bonfire.

In addition to defending Kwanzaa from Christianity, I listened to some podcasts (I'm looking at you here, Danièle Cybulskie) and thought about my divorce. My feelings on the end of my marriage were largely those of anger and I wanted to change that. But contemplating my divorce encompasses a lot more than just the process of ending marital bonds or doing the same old forensics on the decline of my marriage. Now questions like "How shall I prepare to grow old now that I am unmarried?" rear their heads.

I will be better prepared to tackle those types of questions at some point after my divorce is finalized.

It was late evening when I got to Osseo and I checked into my hotel first thing. It had apparently changed hands since I was last there and the new owners had done some remodeling. Some new paint, a completely reorganized lobby, and fancy new door locks with attendant card readers. The woman behind the counter showed me to my room - such service! - and demonstrated the use of the room cards as well as sensors for exterior doors that merely require the wave of a hand to unlock.

I asked her about all the changes and remarked that, despite them, the place still had that 1960's vibe, especially the ribbed concrete(?) walls. I also thought, but didn't say aloud, that it had retained the feel of a motel where guests are not allowed to have guests in their rooms, if you take my meaning.

She replied, "Yeah, it's not too different from when I spent my second wedding night here back in 1993."

Her remark seemed odd to me at first - who would honeymoon in Osseo? - but my mind was quickly gripped by the Baader-Meinhof effect which dictates that, once you are in throes of divorce, it seems like most people have been through it too or are, at least, having marital problems and seem to be heading towards separation. See! Even the hotel clerk has been divorced. No one stays together anymore.

Eventually I made it to my room where I was able to relax for a short time before my friend Jason texted to say he was on his way to Burly-N-Bucks. Sadly the Northwoods Brewpub, our usual meeting spot, was no more. While I grant you that their beer quality was inconsistent, I still have great affection for their Rowdy Rye, a mighty fine rye ale.

I arrived to find my friend conspicuously absent so I ordered a beer and waited. It wasn't long before he stepped in the door and the bartender greeted him by name. Apparently the kid played baseball and Jason was his coach at one time. My hug did not adequately express how good it was to finally see my old friend. Heading north to visit him followed by some hiking had been an annual vacation for me for a few years but I failed to make the trip last year. My life was occupied with a failing marriage, being served divorce papers, moving into an apartment, depression, and a desire to keep a day or two of vacation time in reserve for potential court appearances. It's not that any single one of these things kept me from making the trip but rather, in concert, they threw me into a mode of "I'll sneak the trip later in the year." and I could just never seem to sneak it in.

We caught up on one another's lives. His family was well and his daughter is to marry next year. Being in our 50s, we talked about health issues. An old classmate or two came into the conversation including one whose name we couldn't recall. I just remembered that he was always dressed to the nines and was gay. Jason and I both could picture a face but his name remained on the tips of our tongues. We also tossed around ideas for an off-anniversary class reunion. It was a mixed bag of topics. Oh, and baseball. Baseball is life for Jason.

About an hour in it occurred to me that one reason I enjoy his company so much is that he is genuine and doesn't hide behind a facade of irony and sarcasm. Not that he isn't ironic and sarcastic at times but he hasn't adopted these attitudes as a lifestyle unto themselves. In addition he hasn't become a grumpy old man. Not yet, anyway. He isn't angry and cynical like some of the people I know in my age cohort (I am thinking of my wife here, especially.); instead he is good-natured and gladsome. It must be all the clean country livin'.

Having him return to my life after an absence of decades has been wonderful.

At some point a hard day of coaching baseball caught up to Jason and getting up at 4, working, and then driving caught up with me. Before we parted he gave me some fine reading material.

For my part, I made sure he went home with the bag of treats from Fortune Favors that I had brought. I am responsible for his addiction to their candied pecans and I am unrepentant.

I slept well and was up at my usual time which was before I could get a good cup of coffee in town. The brown water from the coffeemaker in my room managed to stave off my cravings just long enough while I did some writing before I showered. A bit after 7 I was off. First stop: The Nickel Barn.

The Nickel Barn wasn't far away from the motel and I could taste the coffee goodness as I made the short drive just to the other side of the interstate. Stepping out of my car I was greeted by an orange cat.

Seeing him or her approach put a big smile on my face. What a great way to begin my day - with pets. I wandered inside where I got a large coffee and a couple souvenirs. Their shelves were a bit on the bare side but I suppose this wasn't surprising considering that it was not yet tourist season. Come Memorial Day weekend, they'll no doubt be fully stocked with bourbon barrel aged maple syrup, chocolates with animal scat names, et al for the visiting hordes from Chicago.

I wandered through the antiques outside the barn for probably the first time.

While there I was joined once more by the curious orange cat who was out to get more pets.

Alas, the time came for me to hit the road and bid a fond farewell to the feline.

I decided that I'd catch Highway 53 just west of Osseo and take it all the way up to New Auburn. Before becoming an expressway through Eau Claire, 53 is a lovely drive through the country at 55, though I prefer to driver more slowly and take in the scenery. For some reason I especially enjoy the stretch from Foster to Brackett as it engenders feelings of nostalgia within me despite the fact that I have no particular memories of that stretch of highway from when I lived in the area. There's just something about it that brings my high school days back with some force.

It is certainly pretty. On one side there are gorgeous rolling hills while trees hug the other. People's homes are tucked into clearings in the woods and an occasional abandoned farm house zips by in a blur as you drive along. This section encapsulates the variety of inhabitants and highlights the beauty of the area as well. Perhaps part of the reason it resonates with me so is because it's close to where I lived yet I don't really have any memories of it. And so it hasn't changed in my mind and thusly gives no hint of all the years that have passed. When I drive down Highway 93 I notice the changes that have occurred over the past 35+ years. But 53 seems almost frozen in time and in my mind it looks essentially like it did in 1988.

I drove through the Eau Claire area and ere long I was truly up north.

Listening to the voices of the naiad girls during the fermented hours on Bealtaine

Many thanks to Greg Walker at Syn-Phonic Music for the fine Wobbler albums. So much proggy goodness!

Imperial Winter Black: Of Wood and Smoke by Haandbryggeriet

 

What do you get when you cross lutefisk with a hit of LSD?

A trip to Stoughton.

Hopefully a local reads that.

I've had Norway/Norwegians on the brain for a little while now. Next week I am off to Gamehole Con to spend a few days drowning in Lovecraftian chaos as I play Karsten Ekelöf, a Norwegian bacteriologist and physician who goes Beyond the Mountains of Madness. BtMoM is a Call of Cthulhu adventure that takes place in the Antarctic. Here's a bit of his backstory:

Karsten would join the Bratvaag Expedition led by Dr. Gunnar Horn.

Ostensibly an expedition to hunt seals and study glaciers and the Arctic seas, its secret mission was to claim Victoria Island for Norway.

The expedition first stopped at White Island where they improbably discovered the remains of Swedish explorer S.A. Andrée's Arctic balloon expedition. The official story is that only skeletal remains were found but Karsten and company stumbled upon corpses that still had flesh attached to the bones. Karsten examined the corpses and was horrified to discover that it appeared as if much of the adventurers' flesh had been eaten away as if by necrotizing bacteria.

The remains were stowed aboard their ship and Karsten examined tissue samples from them in transit to Victoria Island. Although he was not surprised to find that they were awash with foreign bacteria, he was shocked to discover that the invaders were unlike anything he'd seen previously.

They had strange tentacle-like protrusions and organelles unknown to science...

So there I was contemplating this Norwegian brew and what to do for a picture for this review and my mind started wandering. I thought about Nordic Noir TV shows but discovered that the ones I've watched are mainly Swedish and Danish with the odd one from Finland and Iceland thrown in. Where are the Norwegian TV producers?! Surely Oslo is as crime ridden as Stockholm. You can't tell me that there aren't maniacs living in the fjords or that the Norwegian forests are bereft of fae.

Then it occurred to me that I've been listening to a lot of Wobbler, a progressive rock band from Norway, lately and I have dragged them into this. Heck, they're probably the kind of guys who would drink this variety of beer anyway.

The brew at hand is Of Wood and Smoke by Haandbryggeriet located in Drammen which appears to be an exurb of Oslo. Thankfully some of it made its way to Madison at some point. The date on the bottom of the can was "12-7-202~~~" - the last digit was all smooshed so I guess its date of origin shall forever be a mystery. But, given that December was noted, I take it that this is a winter release.

This jibes with the beer, a hearty brew that was aged in akvavit barrels giving it a potency of 8% A.B.V. Of Wood and Smoke is an amped up version of Haandbryggeriet's Norwegian Wood, a smoked lager with juniper. This stouter iteration is apparently smokier and juniperer, in addition to having a higher alcohol content due to the spiritual comingling.

With the temperatures around here finally providing some much-needed relief from summer, I figured it was time to put this beer to the test.

My pour produced a big tan head which had shrunk a bit before I could take a decent photograph. Holding my glass at just the right angle, I could see that the beer had a deep ruby hue. I didn't notice any bubbles because I just couldn't see that far into the liquid. There was just blackness. Taking a whiff, I first caught booziness, that sharp alcohol smell. Apparently they weren't playing around with the akvavit. Luscious smoke then wafted into my nose and I attempted to discern what variety it was. Ultimately I failed but suspect it was from a fruit tree like apple or cherry. However, that impression may have been influenced by the inviting plum scent from some of the non-smoked malts.

My initial sip revealed a smooth booziness, as if the surely rather large malt bill was able to add enough sweetness to take the edge off of the akvavit. (I'd say the brew had a medium-heavy body.) Just as with the aroma, smoke came next followed by a moderate malty, caramel sweetness. I also tasted some milk chocolate. There was a mild fizz which struggled to penetrate the Maginot Line of malt.

On the finish I tasted a boozy heat which was joined by some lingering smokiness as well as bit of that caramel sweetness and a dash of the juniper. Everything resolved into a mild, slowly fading akvavit burn.

This is a really nice beer. I suspect it was past its prime but I liked it anyway. The smoke was just delicious and the sweetness wasn't anywhere near cloying. The hops and juniper were very much in the background keeping things from becoming a treacly mess and adding only piney/spicy accents. The akvavit I've had was flavored with caraway but I didn't detect any here.

Of Wood and Smoke is surely amongst the most boreal brews I've encountered. The smokiness was wonderful and it kept me warm on a chill autumn evening.

Junk food pairing: Until I can find some locally-produced lefse chips, I will recommend you pair your Of Wood and Smoke with a bag of Sørlandschips Original Spansk Paprika potato chips. The earthy paprika will go well with all of the malt flavors here and the oil will be swiftly cut by all that akvavit.

From Silence to Somewhere. Repeat.

I have listened to this song by Wobbler about 4 times so far today. Longest earworm I've ever had, methinks. Or right up there, anyway.