Book ’em: ‘Lord, what a splendid world we ruined . . .’
The Metro series has captivated me ever since I began reading Metro: 2033 a month ago. After finishing each installment, I’ve immediately gone to Amazon and smashed that buy button on the next book. But now, sadly, I’ve reached the end. I’m about halfway through 2035, and these characters that I’ve only known for a few weeks (but what’s felt like years) are about to be gone forever. Their stories finally finished. Which really sucks, to be honest. I haven’t read a series of books since Hitchhiker’s Guide, and I feel like I’ve grown really close to the characters, what drives them, and what their lives are like.
It’s also been interesting to get a non-westerner’s perspective on things. This is one of the first foreign books I’ve read (it’s translated from Russian), and getting another view on death, destruction, and nuclear apocalypse has been pretty eye opening. The translation is a little shoddy, but it’s totally excusable. I can only imagine how beautiful the book is in its original tongue.
We haven’t really found anything new, lately. My wife and I have been passing time watching Brooklyn 99 and a few others, but there’s one show I’ve been going to religiously after she goes off to dreamland. One iconic masterpiece that I’ve been switching over to as a little guilty pleasure of sorts. And that’s Cheers.
I’ll be damned if Cheers hasn’t held up better than most ’80s sitcoms, and even better than many ’90s and ’00s sitcoms. It’s relatable, it’s funny, and it’s fun to drink to. And who doesn’t love screaming along as everyone’s favorite lovable oaf walks in the bar: ‘Norm!’
I’ll have another:
A few weeks ago, a certain Semi-Major Alcoholic Beverage Online Magazine had an article on cellaring. For the uninitiated, cellaring is the act of taking a beer, putting it away somewhere, and not drinking it. That’s it. It’s that simple. Why would you do such a thing? Because aged beer tastes fucking awesome. Well…sometimes. Sometimes aged beer can taste like a the juices that come off a log that’s been stuck in the ground for six years. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.
Anyway, in their article, they asked a group of contributors about how they felt about cellaring beer, and whether or not they did it in their own homes. The vast majority of answers were ‘I used to, but really what’s the point?’
I’ve had thoughts like this before in the past, where I look in and see all this delicious, magnificent, liquid gold right there in my fridge (Yes, I’m a fridge cellar-er. Sue me.), I think ‘If I die tomorrow, all this goes to waste. I’ll never get to enjoy it, and it’ll just sit here.’ This article plunged me into another one of those dark times where I start to think about my own mortality and all of the wonderful beer I’ll never get to drink if I die tomorrow.
So over the last week, I’ve been busting out a few of those bad boys every now and again, wetting my whistle with the magic inside. Some of my favorites? We busted open a one-year old 120 minute IPA from Dogfish that was magical, as always. Also a 2017 New Belgium Transatlantic Kriek that was amazing. I didn’t know how a lower ABV lambic would age, but it turns out it aged pretty damn well. Another, JW Lees Harvest Ale Aged in Sherry barrels that was…rather subpar. It was a 2014, and usually barleywines get killer with age, but this was teetering on ‘wet log that’s been stuck in the ground’ territory.
But that’s the joy of cellaring. You win some, you lose some. When you lose, you still get to drink beer. When you win, you get a taste of something that almost no one in the world will ever get to taste.