Ukrainian National Team

I used to walk around the concourse at Lobanovsky Dynamo Stadium during Dynamo Kyiv soccer games thinking about how lucky I was to be doing my initial journalism internship in a country on the brink of revolution. It’s every reporter’s dream. At least it is for those reporters who got into this to be foreign correspondents. A ticket to the Ukrainian Premier League games was fairly affordable, so I’d buy a bag of blackened sunflower seeds and sit up on the wall of the stadium watching during the late summer of 2004.

After the match, I’d usually meet up with the mixture of journalists, politicians, pundits, bloggers and foreign embassy staff for a stroll through Kyiv. We’d stop at the little roadside kiosks and purchase any cold beer we could find. We’d usually get a few bottles of the Slavutych and walk two or three miles to find a small Ukrainian-style eatery. Sometimes we’d opt for Georgian food in the trendy neighborhoods popping up around the city center.

Beer, politics, football, art, social networking face to face, I cannot think of a more idyllic time in my life. The memories sustain me to this day.

Even in the midst of the chaos of the upcoming national elections, there was an optimism and a calm that ran down the heart of the city like the central metro line. The football matches were almost serene, a far cry from the boisterous English Premier League events where paddy wagons are parked outside to haul away dozens and dozens of rowdy fans at a time.

I missed out on seeing the amazing Andriy Shevchenko, the 2004 European Footballer of the Year, who was by then playing for Serie A Milan, but his legend lived on in Kyiv that summer. On a side note, he’s now back with Dynamo Kyiv, and I look forward to seeing Sheva, as the fans call him, lead Ukraine to a 2012 European Championship.

The thunderstorm that hit in late August was the most violent display I’d ever seen. The green sky reminded me of warnings I’d heard about tornadoes forming, and the thunderclaps were so loud they rattled the glass in our building. I refused to take the elevator, having been stuck in and old Soviet-style elevator for four hours a few weeks before.

We took the subway into the heart of town headed for Olimpiysky National Sports Complex, where the Ukrainian National Team was preparing to play a friendly against arch rival Turkey. There is no love lost between the country of the Cossacks and the homeland of the Tatars, or Turkic raiders.

My companions and I grabbed a couple Obolons, a lesser beer than the Slavutych, but we were parched and tired of dodging the sudden down pours that would flood intersections in seconds. By the time we reached the stadium, my clothes were absolutely soaked, and I had to stop at a restaurant to ring them out in the sink.

I was shocked to walk into the stadium and find the mood much less bright than at the Dynamo Kyiv matches, those sunny, lazy Saturdays a distant blur in the cold, hard concrete of the Olympic stadium. There were guards everywhere, steel-eyed military types with huge machine guns lined every walk way, and this caused us to keep our conversation quiet and to a minimum.

Slavutych Beer

We bought our blackened sunflower seeds and walked to our seats at midfield and about halfway up the deck from the field. We wouldn’t move again the entire match. A line of soldiers bearing heavy duty weaponry extended from the field to the top of the stadium, and at least 300 police officers lined the inside of the pitch looking back at the crowd. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so trapped in such a large stadium in my entire life.

I don’t even remember the score of the game, just that Ukraine went on to qualify for the 2006 World Cup, where they made it to the quarter finals. The difference between the attitude of the easy going Saturday games at Lobanovsky Dynamo Stadium and this International Friendly was amazing. More than 100,000 people filled the stadium that day, and it took us nearly five hours to get home through the crowded streets of Kyiv.

A cold Slavutych or two definitely made the commute easier especially since enjoying your beer while walking around town or riding the subway was perfectly acceptable, but I had never realized the almost frenzied nature of football fans when they take the world stage, and my thoughts on the ride home were about football, guns and beer.

I can imagine there is some of that and more going on in South Africa right now.

Prost,

GG

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A vending machine dispensing Bucanero, a big, malty Cuban beer

There was never a more welcome sight. After several sweltering days in the Havana heat, my brother and sister and I were looking for some relief. It came in the form of a vending machine. A vending machine that dispensed cold beer. At night, after the cafes close, the only options are nightclubs, where every Cuban girl seems to have an American guy radar built in.

For the first couple of nights, we sat on the promenade in front of our hotel. Men with woman on their arms would walk by and pour a shot of fine Cuban rum in your cup, if you happened to have one. If you didn’t, they poured it right into your mouth. And the rum is good, but it’s sticky and sweet, and all the concrete that drowns out the green in central Havana raises the temperature of the city immensely, and it raises your thirst. The water is no good, as I can attest to. I had to drink a little out of a tap after a long hike. Four days later, I felt like dying.

Some say Cuba is a model for socialism. More doctors per capita than anywhere on earth, health care and all kinds of great benefits for the people. Maybe it’s true, when I first wrote about it, I slammed it for being false advertising. I did witness a lot of poverty there. Several years later, I don’t necessarily hold the same opinions about Cuba. As someone aptly criticized in my article, “A yanquee’s first visit is not enough to form a solid opinion on Cuba.”

And the socialistic aspects of Cuba are debatable, but the discovery of a beer vending machine was like finding an oasis for two very thirsty guys and their sister. It was about two blocks from our hotel, and we had to go together, because the pimps would literally strong arm you inside the houses of ill repute. For a Cuban Peso, we’d buy either a Cristal, which is a super-light lager that tastes a little like heaven when you’re thirsty enough, or a Bucanero Max, which is an 8 percent malt liquor. Super heavy malt and high alcohol wouldn’t seem like the kind of beer you’d want in that high humidity, but late at night, beer never tasted so good. Not having to deal with bar tenders in the night clubs or storing beer bought during the day was priceless, and we visited the machine nightly.

In between forays to purchase good Cuban cigars or to check out Hemingway’s Finca de Vigia, we’d sneak back to the machine for a cold one and walk around what had been Chinatown. There were some 20,000 Cubans of Chinese ancestry when the area was a cultural melting pot of Havana before the revolution. Now you’d never know a Cuban of Chinese ancestry to look at them. We wandered around for two days without even knowing we were in Chinatown.

During the hottest parts of the day we’d find some shade and a Cristal to sip on. Mojitos were good, especially at the  La Bodeguita Del Medio, but the Cuban beer made to exacting German standards was some of the best of the Latin American varieties we’d tried. We even stopped in at Hemingway’s old haunt, El Floridita, for a daiquiri Papa style.

But I could imagine the old man sitting on a fishing boat hunting Nazis during the war. He’d have a cold Cristal in hand and another six in a cooler nearby.

At night he probably grabbed a Bucanero for the heavier malt and sturdier taste.  That’s how we imagined it, so that’s how we played it.

At times I think every place should have a beer vending machine. Yes, you’d have to make it inaccessible for kids. I’ve even thought you could put a license reader on the machine that would only allow you to purchase one if you have a driver’s license and are of age but friends poked a lot of holes in that idea.

Whatever, in an urban area that experiences that much heat, I can totally see how beer vending machines would be a very cool thing.

(Author’s Note) This blog post is from a former blog written from 2005 to 2007 called “Will Blog For Beer.” Periodically I like to pull out some of my favorite posts, pictures and videos and repost them here. I took this trip to Cuba during the summer of 2006. During that trip, Fidel Castro handed power of the government over to his brother Raul, marking the first transition of power in Cuba since the revolution. I flew to Cancun that night and wrote  a story that made headlines in my own newspaper in Oregon as well as the wire around the country. You can read parts of my article Cuba Day 1, cuba day 2 and here. Thanks for reading!

Prost,

GG

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This is a long one, but the pub scenes and whiskey stores are fun to see.

Prost,

GG

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This year’s tour started with a bang, as I introduced Oregon craft beer lovers to some of our best Montana beer. We opened bottles of Big Sky’s Ivan the Terrible, cans of Kettlehouse Brewing Co. Cold Smoke and Double Haul IPA as well as some Red Lodge Bent Nail IPA. While I was introduced to new West Coast craft beers that are, as of yet, unavailable in Montana.

The highlight of this year’s tour, other than hanging out with many craft beer lovers who are skilled in the art of conversation, was visiting a restaurant that I like to think I might have had a little influence in shaping.

Many years ago, while my best friend and I were attending community college as full-time fathers, husbands and bar tenders, we would gather, as our schedule allowed, at a small place called Venti’s Bento. Our good friend Dino Venti ran the place on a budget, but the food had out-of-this-world quality and a healthy angle that we were both looking for at that time in our busy lives.

Dino didn’t imbibe, but one day we got to talking about putting on just a couple of taps of something really special. Well, a few weeks later, we showed up and Dino had our favorite beer on tap. A whole keg of North Coast Brewing Co.’s Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout. Our mouths agape, we took a seat at the bento bar and ordered up our first pints ever of that magic elixer. We could not believe we were having it in pints. Bottles are great and have their own magic, but the draught is a deep magic all its own.

Next came a keg of Stone Brewing Co.’s Arrogant Bastard, another gem to have on draught. Soon, Dino had to limit the number of pints served and raise prices, as he was the most popular little three-tap in town.

Flash forward a few years. Dino built a bigger restaurant across the street with a basement bar called, of all things, The Basement Bar. Along with his talented graphic designer wife, Leslie, Dino has cultivated a great hangout for Salem’s bicycle culture, especially the free ride culture. Still, more than anything, Dino is a restaurant owner who cares about individuals. I’ve heard he’ll still care for people who have no food and no money to buy food with.

On Saturday night, I spend the evening with many friends who showed up to just say hello and fellowship for a few minutes before we headed back to Montana.

I noticed a beer menu up on the wall that featured a sour beer from Russian River called Consecration Ale, an Imperial Stout from Rogue and an Imperial IPA from one West Coast brewery or another.

I started with the first and worked my way through the others as the evening wore on. It’s nice to know that Dino still is serving great beers, and unless things have changed, I don’t believe he ever touches the stuff. But he trusts his friends and patrons, and he provides them a place that is truly worthy of conversation and fellowship. At this point, Venti’s Basement Bar is my favorite beer bar anywhere.

If you find yourself passing through Salem on that venerable artery of commerce and culture called Interstate 5, head toward the giant gold statue on the Capital building and look for Court Street. A rooster marks Venti’s Cafe, where you can order a Ninkasi Tricerahops with your teriyaki chicken over rice with vegetables or head down to the basement bar where you likely will find an amazing assortment of beers on tap and in the bottles.

Congratulations Dino and Leslie, you’ve done an amazing job.

Prost,

GG

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I’m not going to assume all of you have seen the movie “Beer Fest,” but if you have, then you know what I mean. I’ve always wanted to drink from a boot, and thanks to beer buddy Beau, I can now say I have.

Oh, by they way, that boot is filled with Bent Nail IPA from Red Lodge Ales. Mighty awesome stuff that there beer. And, I believe it’s available by the keg at Wordens.

Prost,

GG

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Big Sky Brewing Co. has been in the canning business before. Exorbitant prices for aluminum bottles, which they used at the time, took them out of the game just as fast.

Thanks to some amazing new technology, Big Sky is canning again. Their Moose Drool and Trout Slayer beers are available now. Read the story here.

Prost,

GG

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It’s 5 a.m., and I’m in Frankfurt, in the heart of the one of the most dedicated beer countries on earth. I see a guy drinking a huge stein of something pilsnery looking, and I’m conflicted. I’ve just flown from Denver to Frankfurt, and I’m about to board a Boeing 747 to fly over who-knows-how-many war zones on the way to India. I need to sleep, but should I pass up having a beer in Germany. Every beer lover should do that given the chance.

Ah, the good thing for me is that I have a longer layover in Frankfurt on my return flight. I think I shall delight in a Germanic brew upon my return and save my taste buds for whatever India can throw at me.

Next post from India!

Prost,

GG

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I’ve had the great privilege of visiting many of the renowned brewing states that can truly say they fathered a certain style of beer. Perhaps no other place is so romantically connected to beer as India.

The men and women of the East India Company whose thirst for a tasty brew lead to the creation of the India Pale Ale are forever to be thanked for their contribution to the pantheon of beers.

In two days I’ll be in India looking at the roots of IPA. Well, I’m not really going just for the IPA, though that would be really cool. I’m actually teaching journalism at a school in the city of Jaipur. But you can be sure I’m going to have a look around at what constitutes the beer scene in Delhi, Jaipur and Mumbai.

To find a legendary IPA as produced in Britain for the long transit to the subcontinent would be the fullfillment of a dream.

At any rate, I’ll be out of the office for the next two weeks. I’m going to post as often as I can, but do understand if I miss a day or two in between, and keep checking back for updates.

Namaste,

GG

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Craft brew really has made it across the Pacific.

This is from my good friend Peter Bowling, a business man, philanthropist, AIDS activist working in China.

Take it away Pete -

Here’s a shot of the import beer section. There used to be just about nothing in the way of good beer here, but now we are getting more and more appearing on the shelves of these import stores. I took this picture, but almost got my head taken off by the security guard. He came at me swinging his arms hoping to get in the way before I took a snapshot… but obviously he didn’t succeed. ‘No photography in the store… there’s a sign up front…’ I glanced around, half expecting to see armed guards with dogs, and a ‘China Customs – no photography beyond this point’ sign… but there wasn’t… just regular supermarket signage. Oh well. At least they have good beer… so what if they won’t let me take pictures. I’ll just have to be more stealthy next time.

Here’s a lineup of the beers we tasted tonight… only cost me about $20 for 8 bottles of good import beer… we divided the beers between the appetizers, the meal, and post-meal. Dried fish soaked in dark vinegar is really a great choice to go with almost any beer.

This was the first one we tried, and our least favorite. I would choose a Chinese wheat beer over this, at 1/20 the cost. The actual flavor was hard to detect because it was weak, and the beer tasted flat to begin with. I only drank it down because we don’t waste beer. If there’s ever leftover beer that no one will drink, we use it in the marinade brine for the next BBQ.

This was one of our favorites, in our top 3. Not too light or heavy, and an interesting flowery flavor or aftertaste. It’s called ‘island lager’, which I guess it kind of tasted island-ish…

We were not impressed with this beer, which made it into our bottom 3. It wasn’t bad, just wouldn’t be a top choice for me. I don’t know what ‘white beer’ is supposed to taste like, but I guess this is it. It was smooth, not sharp, weak flavor, and kind of murky appearance (as its unfiltered).

I think this is the first time I have tried an ‘auburn Lager’. The color was intriguing. The picture doesn’t show clearly the distinct sharp color. The flavor was a little bit sour, and not as good as the Long Board Lager, but I would still prefer this beer above many.

This beer had a very strong flavor, high in hops, and on the higher end of alcohol (8.5%). I didn’t particularly like the boldness of it. I could tell the beer was quality, the flavor wasn’t bad, and I didn’t dislike it, but I wouldn’t likely choose it very often as it might make me full before my meal does. Somehow this filled me up faster than a heavy dark beer does.

This is one of the beers I have been fascinated by lately. It’s a ‘lambic beer’ made by Lindemans. This is the peach flavor. I like this one as a refreshing drink, but it didn’t make it into my top 3. Very sweet, sour, good full flavor, low alcohol (2.5%). I am most intrigued by the way this beer is made.

This, although it’s not a beer, was a big disappointment. The flavor seemed watery, lower alcohol than I’d expect from a cider (5%), and just overall not very tasty, not refreshing, and not worth drinking again.

Now this one… has been my favorite so far. Since the first drink I had a couple weeks ago, I have been excited about this beer. This is also a ‘lambic’ made by Lindemans, flavored with raspberries. Just the smell gives away the secret that you’re in for a treat. The deep color is amazing, the flavor is like eating a handful of sun-ripened raspberries right off the vine. Every time I finish one of these, I wish I had bought more. And I think I most certainly will…

Thanks for sharing Pete, and keep sending those dispatches from China. We love hearing that craft beer is taking over the world.

Prost,
GG

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This doesn’t really have to do with beer, necessarily, but I thought that with the name being Grizzly Growler and all, it would be cool to refer back to this video I shot last week in Grand Teton National Park.

Enjoy,

GG

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