This weekend our fun event was the RedHook brewery tour. We went to the Forecaster's Public House for lunch, then did their brewery tour. Both were just OK.
The food was alright, "nothing to write home about" to quote Ryan. The beers were pretty good, I went with the Blonde Ale on a nitro tap. If you've never had a beer on nitro, I recommend it. It makes it very creamy and smooth.
The tour was more of a tasting and less of a tour than we expected. Which was still nice, we paid a dollar each and got generous pours of five different Red Hook beers, and heard about the history of the brewery from a very nice guide. But it all took place mostly in one room, with just a window looking out into the brewery. Also, our tasting/tour was infected with a couple of asshats who wanted to make a spectacle of themselves and talk while the guide was talking.
It probably sounds churlish, but in general, people really drive me nuts with their constant need to be the center of attention at something like this. Like people at concerts or performances who need to yell something during quiet moments. We also saw Lewis Black this weekend and during his act, people kept yelling things to him. You know, the usual "I love you man!" type things. Why don't they just stand up and yell "HEY EVERYBODY LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!" And if the performer humors them by making some comment in return, I imagine they go home thinking "I talked to Lewis Black - I was part of the show!"
On the wall in the brewpub though, they had this excerpt from John Gardner's "On Becoming a Novelist" that I thought was kind of interesting. The connection to brewing is tenuous, except to say that they admired the spirit of mild insanity that infects those who are passionate about making writing great stories, and thought it was a similar type of mania that drove them to make beer.
From "On Becoming a Novelist":
"Like any other kinds of intelligence, the storyteller’s is partly natural, partly trained. It is composed of several qualities, most of which, in normal people, are signs of either immaturity or incivility: wit (a tendency to make irreverent connections); obstinacy and a tendency toward churlishness (a refusal to believe what all sensible people know is true; childishness (an apparent lack of mental focus and serious life purpose, a fondness for daydreaming and telling pointless lies, a lack of proper respect, mischievousness, an unseemly propensity for crying over nothing); a marked tendency toward oral and anal fixation or both ( the oral manifested by excessive eating, drinking, smoking, and chattering; the anal by nervous cleanliness and neatness coupled with a weird fascination with dirty jokes); remarkable powers of eidetic recall, or visual memory ( a usual feature of early adolescence and mental retardation); a strange admixture of shameless playfulness and embarrassing earnestness, the latter often heightened by irrationally intense feelings for or against religion; patience like a cat’s; a criminal streak of cunning; psychological instability; recklessness, impulsiveness and improvidence; and finally, an inexplicable and incurable addiction to stories, written or oral, bad or good. Not all writers have exactly these same virtues, of course. Occasionally one finds one who is not abnormally improvident.
I have described here, you may think, a curious and dangerous beast. In fact, good writers are almost never dangerous..."















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