Lawson’s ‘Maple Nipple’ meets a potential maple nipple.
Mikerphone’s ‘Smells Like Bean Spirit’ meets my youthful musical tastes.
Burnt City’s ‘Kveik Minded’ meets a local farmhouse.
Picture a steady stream of gorgeous whole cone hops cascading into a boil kettle. Landing gently in its carefully crafted wort bath, they float majestically, lending their complex and nuanced flavors to your favorite beer. It’s the type of scene that screams for a slow motion montage.
A few weeks ago, I talked to 4th and 5th graders about the job of a historian, the importance of research and the power of curiosity. I must have done a good job, because the 4th graders were impressed that I fashioned myself a historian more than a teacher. It’s likely the last time a lot of these kids hear “historian” without their eyes glazing over, but you can’t choose what you love. Continue reading
Close your eyes and imagine a scene. It’s a late afternoon in June. The temperature is hovering around 75 and it’s a pleasant dry heat. You’re relaxing on a lounge chair in a screened-in gazebo with a ceiling fan lazily circulating the air around you. The smell of freshly cut grass, lilacs and tilled soil fill the air. A horse whinnies in the distance while birds twitter and cicadas buzz. Taking in this idyllic scene, you reach over and grab your drink from the side table. Question: What are you drinking?