Locally Brewed Utah Beers With Names That Sound Like Sex Positions

10. The Devastator

The Devastator is an intense, amber lager (8% alcohol by volume). It has a fluffy white head with a bready malt aroma and a rich body that leaves you with a warming feeling.

9. Chasing Tail

Chasing Tail Golden Ale is a delicious English Ale, made from traditional English malt and hops. Well-balanced for easy drinking.

8. Sit Down, Shut Up, & Hold On

Sit Down, Shut Up, & Hold On is an unfiltered Belgian wheat bier, spiced with coriander along with bitter and sweet orange peel. A sharp wheat flavor and heavy citrus tones. Enjoy with an orange slice.

7. Stupid Blonde 

Stupid Blonde ale is a light unfiltered blonde ale. it has low hop character and flavors of barley and wheat. 

6. All the Way

All the Way Alt is an unfiltered German Ale, dry, medium bodied, good bitterness, with little to no hop aroma or flavor.

5. Bone Warmer

Bone Warmer Amber Ale, brewed in the "strong ale" tradition, is a beer of great character, with exceptional malt flavor and warming alcohol content. The resulting ale is the color of roasting chestnuts, voluptuously malty, only slightly sweet, with a hint of toffee and a warming dry finish. Bone Warmer Amber Ale is an ideal accompaniment to rich meaty stews, wild game, roasted fowl or root vegetables, and aged cheddars.

4. Cherry Luv

Cherry Luv is an "Oud Bruin", also known as Flanders Brown style Ale originating from the Flemish region of Belgium. Cherry Luv is a medium bodied, reddish-brown ale with a gentle malty flavor and no hop bitterness. The aroma is a complex mixture of fruits and rich smells of plums, raisins and cherry. Both yeast and red tart cherries were used in fermentation to create an authentic sour Belgian farmhouse ale with cherry accents. 

3. Monkey's Dunkle

Monkey's Dunkle is a European-style dark lager that has a pronounced malty aroma and biscuit like character that dominates over mild hop bitterness. This is a medium body session beer meant to be enjoyed all evening long.

2. Backcountry Cream

Backcountry Cream Ale is a light, unfiltered ale/lager hybrid, low in bitterness and hop aroma, subtle caramel flavor.

Last but not least, the one that started it all...


1. The Park City Steamer

The Park City Steamer is typical steam-style beer that is fermented at room temperature with a lager yeast. Medium body with a full flavor.

vanity

i am really obsessed with my new haircut. that is all.

on the agenda...

today:

go for a chilly run.
do an hour of yoga.
walk to work, sling lattes from 1 - 8:30

also, I am becoming obsessed with filthy dubstep remixes of my favorite songs. here is your daily aural-gasm. I'd put this on my ipod but I don't want to get a boner while I'm walking to work.

let me take a moment to appreciate the little things.

I love picking up a Q and U in scrabble at the same time. I love playing on old and dangerous playground equipment. I love wearing underwear fresh out of the dryer. I love the smell of gasoline. I love wearing jeans tucked into boots. I love discovering the perfect pancake-to-maple-syrup ratio. I love feeling like a princess after walking outside and being dusted with freshly fallen snowflakes. I love achingly scalding showers when it's freezing outside. I love drinking hot coffee on my chilly walk to work. I love being able to wear gloves and scarves and pea coats. I love live music. I love terrible cover bands. I love the roar of 70's muscle cars. I love deciphering archaic text. I love long phone calls with old friends and eating homemade grilled cheese sandwiches. I love being terrible at yoga (but still enjoying it!). I love doing anything that makes me feel like a caveman. I love leftover cake. I love the muscle soreness that follows hard workouts. I love the smell of the coffee aisle in the grocery store. I love swapping smiles with strangers. I love greasy chinese food. I love getting a buzz after a long run. I love crying*. I love smiling and thinking about the past. I love the fact that my future is unwritten.  

I love living. 


*Studies show that emotional crying (versus dry-eyes crying, onion crying, or eyelash-in-your-eye crying) actually releases a myriad of crazy hormones that relieve tension by balancing your body’s stress levels. If you’ve ever heard people say ‘I’m okay, I had a good cry,’ then it could be because crying helps straighten out your chemically crooked self right when you need it most. And let’s face it — that’s a lot better than holding it all in and shorting out all your inner circuitry.

tearing up the streets.

Last night was one of the best nights I've had in awhile. I got to hang out with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Luke. I bought him his first cup of coffee, ever! After we arrived at Coffee Noir (a cool local, independently owned joint) I decided upon a Café au lait as a good introductory beverage.

 

coffee + milk = perfection 

 The blend was an earthy, syrupy, deeply roasted Sumatra. He loved it.

Anyway, to share some background without including the gory details, we were both raised in the same faith but in neighboring cities. He recently defected from Mormonism. Either he's been reading too much, or I'm a bad influence. Or both.

This guy is incredible. He served a Mormon mission in Germany and is fluent in German. He spent the evening telling me about his favorite German poets and authors. I threw in my two cents, but I can only go as far as Nietzsche and Heidegger with a sprinkling of Kafka and Rilke. He has read Nietzsche in German.

He then shared the following poem with me. I listened to it once, he translated it for me, and then I listened to it again. I have provided a translation below. It is devastating.






----------------------------------------------


Paul Celan - Deathfugue

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening
we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night
we drink and we drink
we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped
A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margareta
he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are all sparkling, he whistles his hounds to come close
he whistles his Jews into rows has them shovel a grave in the ground
he commands us to play up for the dance.

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at morning and midday we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margareta
Your ashen hair Shulamith we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped

He shouts jab the earth deeper you lot there you others sing up and play
he grabs for the rod in his belt he swings it his eyes are so blue
jab your spades deeper you lot there you others play on for the dancing

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday and morning we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margareta
your aschenes Haar Shulamith he plays his vipers
He shouts play death more sweetly this Death is a master from Deutschland
he shouts scrape your strings darker you'll rise then as smoke to the sky
you'll have a grave then in the clouds there you won't lie too cramped

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday Death is a master aus Deutschland
we drink you at evening and morning we drink and we drink
this Death is ein Meister aus Deutschland his eye it is blue
he shoots you with shot made of lead shoots you level and true
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margarete
he looses his hounds on us grants us a grave in the air
he plays with his vipers and daydreams der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland

dein goldenes Haar Margarete
dein aschenes Haar Shulamith


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So basically, I need to learn German. He tried to teach me the sounds last night, but I failed miserably. Oh well. I need to practice.

I also was able to listen to an absurd amount of Shostakovich. No wonder I'm so moody and introspective today.

I am officially employed!

Applied, interviewed, and hired within five days of moving to a new city. This has to break some sort of record. The coffee shop is right down town too, so I get to walk to work.

I know, I'm jealous of my life too.

adventure challenge: day one.

First things first: the following song got me out of bed this morning.



Yann Tiersen is brilliant -- you're probably familiar with him, he wrote and performed the soundtrack for the film Amélie (one of my favorites).

As I described to many of you, I am going to force myself to do something new and challenging every day (thus becoming a modern-day renaissance woman/polymathette).

Two things you should know about me (if you haven't figured them out already): I invent words frequently (just call me Ms. Shakespeare) and I'm quite fond of using (unnecessary) parenthetical citations within my text.

Anyway, enough awkward preambling. Today, I am going to:
successfully use public transportation in a new city*

*the key word here being "successfully" 
I have a paid gig on the university campus at 9:30. After that is completed, the city is mine! 
people of salt lake, brace yourselves.
.

stateside, ready for a new adventure.

there is no reason that life -- even day to day -- shouldn't be lived as an adventure.

i'm back from costa rica, but i've decided that i'm going to continue cataloging my adventures here in this blog. as many of you know, i moved to salt lake city about a week ago.

it's damn cold here. it's an adjustment, and i miss california a lot. but it's good for me.

to all of my fervent readers and faithful friends: please stay tuned for more musings from your favorite misanthrope.

in the mean time, here's a tune that represents perfectly my current state of mind: 

Quinceañera!

A few weeks ago, Liz and I were fortunate enough to experience a real Costa Rican Quinceañera. It was for Amanda (the niece of our neighbors Luz and Guillermo). We agreed to help them prepare (Luz was doing the cooking) so we hiked over to their farm early in the morning. We were prepared to work, and we brought changes of clothes, jewelry, and makeup so we could get ready after the preparations were finished.

We chopped vegetables for hours. Hundreds of onions, carrots, peppers, and garlic cloves passed through my fumbling fingers as I tried to match the delicacy and precision of Luz. These vegetables were thrown into a giant pot of carne en salsa – this metal pot was the size of a kiddie pool, and it was sitting atop a roaring fire for hours. These people know how to cook.

We were able to take coffee in the afternoon before we got ready. Liz and I showered quickly – what was really magical was to see all of the girls in the house getting ready. Even the tiny ones wore a little bit of mascara. 

We rode to the Quince in the back of memo’s pickup truck. I felt like a badass – dolled up, wearing a dress – clinging on for dear life as the rickety cab bumped and bounced over every large rock beneath the tires. 

this was awesome

little Daniela riding like a pro!

The party was so extravagant. I’ve never been to a birthday celebration like that. The only comparable events in my repertoire of memories were wedding receptions I attended when I was young. Amanda looked like a princess. Everything was pink – ribbons, candles, tablecloths, flowers. They even had a live band and a disco ball above the dance floor. There was a red carpet extending down the center of the large room. Also: because of my awesome camera, Guillermo and Luz made me the official photographer of the evening. I have included my favorites in this post. Enjoy!

Luz made a ridiculous amount of homemade liquor. When I asked her what it was called, she smiled and replied “contrabano”. Contraband. She brews massive tubs of this homemade chocolate and coconut cream alcohol every time she has a party. I’ve grown to love it a little too much. Anyway, servers kept bringing out trays and trays of this stuff, so about an hour in, Liz and I were hammered. We meandered over to the kitchen later (one of my favorite things to do) and found Dago, Guillermo’s brother, pouring himself a shot of some really strong homemade liquor. He insisted on pouring us several shots, and by then, I was over the moon. It was clear that this alcohol was not meant for everyone. I felt like a VIP at a very important party. Later on, we wandered outside to get some fresh air and met some older Costa Rican guys who were sipping on imperials. They asked us if we wanted some beers, Liz and I readily accepted. The older one was donning dark washed denim jeans, an exquisitely pressed button-up shirt, and the largest cowboy hat I have ever seen. He explained to us that he was the owner of the local bar, and that if we would come dance with them, they’d get us whatever we wanted to drink. I was ecstatic. I figured Kelly (who had stayed home) would understand me accepting their offer.

We had an open bar – free drinks, shots, and cigarettes punctuated by bouts of capricious dancing. They taught us how to salsa and meringue. Looking back, the whole night has become a blur.

Later we decided to head back to the party (to the dismay of newly-found friends we had made at the bar) in case things were wrapping up soon. Outside, we ran into Luz’s little sister and her boyfriend. They conveniently had a bottle of rum wrapped elegantly in a brown paper bag. After being invited to drink more, we conceded gracefully and passed around the rum.

We ended up giving each other languages lessons – they taught me that I was “muy barracha” and liz and I explained the concept of being “fucked up”.

I’m kind of bitter that we just started making a lot of really good friends here, and now it’s time to go. Oh well.

As a side note – I always get barrata and barracha mixed up. The former means cheap, the latter means drunk. Situations where this has been a problem:

“I am really cheap right now.”

“I don’t want this one, do you have something a little more drunk?”

Eventually, Memo and Luz had packed up and were ready to go. The ride back in the truck bed did not help my stomach, but I could swear in that mindset that I was Indiana Jones. Somewhere I never thought I’d be: drunk, in the back of a pickup, bouncing through the rainforest in the middle of the night.

After we got back to their house, Memo and Luz thanked us for our help and offered to let us stay the night. For some reason I wanted to do the straight uphill two mile hike home at night while I was drunk. Crossing the river was terrifying. We made it home safely though, and I will remember that night forever.