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Depression Series: At least it was for nachos (part 2)

A fair warning is probably needed, I suppose: This post is not and has nothing to do with feer and bood (or beer and food, for that matter). This is a multi-part series I decided to write about living with my depression. Super uplifting stuff (but seriously give it a shot, you might learn something). I guess this second part is about friends. 

On my drive home from the taproom where I worked a shift after my regular day job, I decided I had no desire to cook dinner. For one, there wasn’t anything ready to be cooked, but also I didn’t want to eat any leftovers and sacrifice a meal that would be perfect for tomorrow. So I decided to spend money because of course, that’s what we do, isn’t it? And of course, nothing sounded better than grub from a local taqueria I have fallen head over heels for. 

After calling my wife to tell her (ask if it is a good idea) to get some tacos for dinner, I pull into the parking lot. As I walk in, a man from the neighborhood walks up to me and asks me for some money so he can buy some dinner. The man appeared to be homeless and ill-equipped for the winter weather we were starting to have. Feeling slightly upbeat, I tell him that while I don’t have any cash (and I didn’t), I would be happy to buy him a taco. I’ve done this in the past, I feel like it gets to the heart of the issue with some panhandlers: either they just want your money or they really do want the things they are asking for. In this case, the man wanted the food and he definitely did look hungry to me-- He graciously accepted the taco offer. 

We went into the restaurant together and after an awkward encounter with a patron leaving the place, he looked over the menu and noticed there were other offerings than just tacos. He soon began asking me to buy additional items to which I responded that he pick just one. “Chicken nachos then,” he said, and this was a good choice, I thought, for who doesn’t like nachos? 

After he ordered, the man started to walk around and see who else he could get change from. This was odd, seeing as I had already purchased him dinner, and I could tell the servers were annoyed when he scolded customers that didn’t bus their trays. Finally, he found the drink cooler and after picking some orange soda, he asked the servers behind the counter if he could have it. “$1.08″ they said to his disliking. After a few minutes of him trying to barter with them, he turned to me to see if I would buy it for him. 

“I already paid,” I said. “And I don’t have any cash. Still. Sorry, man.” 

His nachos were ready, a heaping pile of chips and cheese with chicken and beans. You can’t go wrong (well, maybe about the beans. I mean, why does everything have to have beans?). 

The man then slowly started to put the orange soda in his jacket, as if to steal it. The server kept telling him “$1.08″ but it only made him more frustrated. 

Then the man stopped, sighed, and reached into his pocket and pulled out a few loose dollars ... 

... And a crisp $100 dollar bill. 

The servers behind the counter were madder than I was. Honestly, at that point, I just wanted my food to take home and watch The Good Place. I actually found it, at the time, a little funny. I mean, here was this guy that looked homeless (or at least poor) asking me for tacos when he had more cash on him than I’d had in weeks. The servers yelled at him for making me pay for his food, they knew what was up. 

The man put $1.10 on the counter, grabbed his food, and then turned for the exit, but not before telling me “Yo I got you, man.” What does that mean here in this case? That he’s going to pay me back in tacos, that he was going to break that $100 and give me cash for the nachos? That he was grateful? Was that his way of saying thank you? 

He never did actually say thank you. 

I drove home and was still finding the whole situation a little funny when suddenly my laughing became more nervous and suddenly I was anxious about how I feel about humanity as a whole. And then I was in yet another funk. Don’t worry, the tacos and torta I got helped, but I couldn’t help think about how I treat people and how I want to be treated and then how am I actually treated. 

See, my therapist, let’s call her Deloris (because why the fuck not?), thinks I am a bit of an empath. And yet, at the same time, she thinks I have no desire to treat myself with empathy or to try and get better. I try to be nice to everyone around me and I constantly want to please everyone (and people always tell me that I can’t please everyone but then I try it anyways and sometimes it works but what they don’t tell you is that usually the person you don’t ever please is yourself, at least if you do it that way). If you look at my various jobs over the years, they’ve been in areas to help people. Service industry jobs are serving and helping people. At Best Buy, I was supporting stores to ensure no customer went “unserved.” Technical writers write up steps so you don’t misuse a tractor, causing it to blow up (that is, of course, if I wrote tractor manuals). I’m always there offering a smile, a hug, even a meal (like the nachos here or a homecooked meal for a friend). I love hosting. I offer up all my beer and vices to anyone that will join me because I’m just a friendly guy. 

Or so I thought! Dramatic! 

Recently, let’s say the last few years, I’ve felt that I have a really hard time making new friends. I’m almost immediately in my own head, thinking of ways to sabotage the conversation, the moment, the encounter so that I don’t have to talk to anyone anymore. Why is that? I like talking to people, don’t I? And then I listen to them talk about a trip or a new job or a new house or a better life and I know I should be happy for them, but then all I want to do is bury myself alive. It isn’t even logical, sometimes whatever I’m jealous about isn’t even something I care about or am interested in, yet I just can’t stop, and I know it makes no sense, has no rhyme or reason, but I can’t shake the feeling that I just can’t be happy for others. And that prevents me from wanting to be their friend, or even truly being friendly. 

But then I think, wait, I feel these things before I hear about the new job, the trip, the new cat. My anxiety starts going well before any of that, fuck, it starts when I enter a room and don’t light it up. Something stops me from wanting to make friends before my depression and anxiety can step in and make me feel awful about myself and for myself when I hear about all things I can’t do or couldn’t do or don’t do or haven’t done. Odds are, it’s still my depression and anxiety. It’s a weird double-edged sword, cycle thing: I have the tools to see others suffering and to try and help them through it, and I want to do that because it is one of the ways I feel validated, but I have no desire to help myself, which makes me sad so I continue to slip down, which then makes me see how others don’t treat me, how the world really is, which makes me not want to be nice or use those tools to help others. If I meet their lack of kindness with kindness, then it will only make me sad because I’m not being treated how I want to be treated, and if I stoop to their level and treat ugliness with ugliness, then I am doomed to feel worse and feel ugly for not being who I really want to be. Either way, I’m fucked. 

Lately, with this whole introspective analysis on my depression and trying to open up in the hopes of self-discovery, I’ve had this train of thought. Who knows if it’s right or not but... The thing is, I've had a hard time knowing where my depression ends and I begin. I don't really know who I am anymore because for so long I've been trying not to face something that's so very much a part of me and I can’t separate the two. How can I be friends with someone if I don’t even know who I really am? 

The last few months, I've been trying to change (like I said, self-discovery). I've been talking and listening and learning and opening up to the idea that I don't deserve this, that I shouldn't be this sad, that there's more to this life than feeling crushed by a wave of emotion (and I can't swim)... And then there's that voice again, telling me to hate myself. And we start over. The thing is, the important thing to keep in mind is, I am constantly just self-criticizing myself. There’s always something I am doing wrong. But that means I am constantly trying to do more, trying to do better, striving to be better. I have high expectations of myself. I guess I don’t know what I can do to make people actually care about others. Have their own empathy. Like, when I ask nicely for you to move so I can get off the bus and you decide this is somehow my fault and that you standing there is more important than letting me off the bus, how do I meet that with kindness? 

And so, what if this time, I am actually protecting myself? What if I have been so sick and tired of being nice for so long and not getting kindness in return that I am trying to tell myself to be an ass because, well, that’s what you’re going to be to me. What if the reason I don’t help people anymore is that they don’t help me? What if I am getting colder and colder because that’s what I am exposed to? From the people on the bus that decide not to move out of the way to let me off to the guy cutting me off on the highway to the co-worker that doesn’t hold the elevator all the way to the people in Charlottesville rioting on hate to the president of these United States who has admitted to sexually assaulting women to the Harvey Weinstein’s of the world. Are these good people? Are they worth my kindness, my empathy? Or do I just have high expectations for these people, higher expectations than they can actually live up to because they are the expectations in my mind? 

And is any of this rationale, even? Or just more of my depression and anxiety? I’ve often tried to live with the general rule that all human beings deserve respect for the sole reason that they are human beings. Kindness, caring, equity, empathy. All because we are more alike than we are different because we are made of stars. We’re all stardust.  

The truth is, even if it is actually the case, that I protect myself by being mean deep down so I can’t be hurt when I am disappointed, that isn’t a way to live. I don’t want to be that way. I need community. And the bitter truth is, my community is always going to change as people come and go. It’s better to keep it growing rather than tear it down. 

What does this have to do with nachos, John? Well, it would be easy for me to just give up, especially after getting “cheated” by someone pretending to be in need. It would be easy to give up on those that need our help, to use this as an example to give up on humanity. And to use this as another reason to not be friendly, or to be cold to the world. But I just can’t do that and expect to get anywhere. I need to fight as much as I am able this idea that it is me against the world, that I have a chip on my shoulder and everyone’s to blame. Recognizing it, talking about it... that’s half the battle, indeed. 

It’s hard, though. A part of me wants to use my anger that people aren’t nicer as a reason to be nasty, too, fight ugly with ugly. Hell, a part of me has probably already accepted that that's the way to be. But there’s still a voice inside of me that’s laughing and saying, Hey, at least they were nachos.

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

Depression Series: A Working Title (part 1)

A fair warning is probably needed, I suppose: This post is not and has nothing to do with feer and bood (or beer and food, for that matter). This is a multi-part series I decided to write about living with my depression. Super uplifting stuff (but seriously give it a shot, you might learn something). I guess this first part is more of a “What is it and why?” part. 

14 years ago, I was first diagnosed with depression. As odd as it sounds, my depression is one of my oldest acquaintances, always around, hovering over me like a cloud, the persistent voice of negativity and self-criticism that I hear all the time, detracting from... the good things in my life... a constant part of my life for as long as I can remember. And not too long after that, and only recently have I discovered this, my anxiety came with it. 

I try hard not to show it or let anyone see it or know that it's there. For a long time, I thought that it was normal. And then, that changed to me thinking that I deserved it, that I was meant to carry it because I wasn’t good enough to be normal, and that if I ever should admit to it, it would shameful (and don’t even get me started on how pressure men in our society to not show emotions, to not be sad, to not be depressed, on how I was supposed to play football and not do theater or how I was called f*g for crying and showing emotion at Timberwolves camp. I still hit the most free throws that summer). if I just pushed through and lived my life it would go away, right? So that's what I did. I didn't talk about it. I put on a smile, kept my chin up and just carried on, like a good British soldier. Tried hard in school, got a job that turned into a career, got a second job for my hobby, went out with friends, married my best friend, and just tried to navigate each day the best I could. 

But it's always been there, my depression, my anxiety, my passengers, with me along the way, ebbing and flowing and crashing inside me. I see them each birthday to remind me I’m a year older and to critique me for what I haven’t done, they’re there every Christmas to make me sad for the state of the world, for the family not there, or for how quick it all goes and how we chase the joy of the holiday season until it fades like sunlight in winter. When a co-worker tells me news I’m hearing for the first time, my depression and anxiety tell me that I should take it personally that no one wanted to tell me, that people are purposefully withholding information from me, that I am bad at my job for being the last to know, that I am probably going to be fired. When my wife asks, cautiously, if I am in a bad mood, I suddenly become enraged even if I was actually perfectly content moments earlier. And then throughout all my days every day, I am reminded of something of my past or play a memory in my head that brings an overwhelming sense of nostalgia over me like a wave, and suddenly I am sad I’m not back there. They seep through, more and more, as the years go on, causing me to lash out, say things I don’t mean, self-sabotage myself in more ways than I even know (I’m still learning about them all). I am self-sabotaging as I write this (I’ve been picking at my beard since I started, my anxiety takes over). 

Honestly, I find it so hard to talk about. There are so many thoughts that race through my mind that I probably won’t ever share, I’ll just tuck them away deep within, even if they hurt, especially if they hurt. I struggle to talk about this with my best friends because I feel like by doing so, I’m protecting them. And actually, sometimes they just don’t know how to help or what to say. Why should I care if you think I’m a great person if I hate who I am?

And then I think that I’m probably doing a disservice to someone’s real depression, and so I keep shut, I clam up, I don’t talk about it, I stay in my head and I spiral and my attitude changes and I become irritable and then I start to realize I’m digging this hole and everyone around me isn’t happy to interact with me, like they’re walking on eggshells, and I don’t want that so I start to tear at myself to try and fix it and I’m under so much pressure because I keep looking at how much time I’m wasting being miserable, making you miserable.

Sometimes I am lucky to encounter others like me, with lasting depression as a companion, and for a moment you can be reminded that you’re not alone. And then I look at the numbers, and I can see, I’m not alone: 

1 in 5 Americans will be impacted by mental illness during their lifetime. 

We lose about as many people to suicide each year as we do to breast cancer.

2/3 of people with depression do not actively seek nor receive proper treatment. 

Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death for ages 15-44 (42,773 deaths by suicide in the US in 2014). 

Women experience depression at twice the rate of men. 

There are nine different types of depression a person can be diagnosed with.

Depression ranks among the top three workplace issues, following only family crisis and stress. 

OK, I could go on and on here. One of the things that sparked all this was this article about what it is like to be high-functioning and have depression. Here are some quotes: 

This is the ordeal for millions of Americans who have depression: always "on" because of high-pressure jobs, sleep-deprived and feeling like you just have to continue keeping your chin up. Many don't realize that depression can lurk in the background, allowing you to go through the motions but still depriving you of the ability to live life to its fullest.

On the surface, high-functioning depression may seem like it's easier to deal with, but it can persist for years, leading to more functional impairment over time than acute episodes of major depression... Research has shown that the low self-esteem, lack of energy, irritability, and decrease in productivity that accompanies persistent depression is associated with significant long-term social dysfunction, psychiatric hospitalizations, and high rates of suicide attempts. And, ironically, persistent depression also puts people at a higher riskfor major depressive episodes with more severe symptoms.But the stigma around mental illness—or any signs of weakness—prevents people from revealing their stress to friends and colleagues. 

It hit home to me for so many reasons. I struggle that I am too goddamn self-critical to let me slip up and not be high-functioning. And I hate myself for it. The article resonated with me, as if someone else has lived with similar acquaintances, too. 

Why write this, you ask? Who cares might be a more accurate question (aren’t I uplifting?). Not that people don’t care, just maybe not enough to go read a long-ass blog about this kind of thing. Maybe it’s depressing (humor!).  I ask myself these same questions and even struggled to share any of this at all. For the last few weeks, I’ve had this idea to write a series on my blog (it’s about food and beer, but also now I suppose some random thoughts and happenings in my life) about my depression to maybe have the opportunity to reach out to others that might feel something similar. If you feel like me at all and you’re not talking about it, then hopefully this reaches you. I’m starting to open up to someone who maybe knows what they are doing and progress is slow but hey, I got the courage to write all this, didn’t I? I struggle with how we talk about depression. I struggle that there often isn’t a safe place for people to talk about their depression and their thoughts without being labeled or without being seen as unsafe. 

"If you admit that you're depressed or you have a mental health issue, people on the outside, who are not dealing with that, automatically label you as being crazy," Judge says.

I struggle with how depression is so commonly misunderstood, even by some of my friends and family. I struggle with how it’s been portrayed t is yet another one of those topics we just don’t like talking about enough. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see some thoughts out in the open?

I think that maybe, just maybe, if writing is cathartic, and to me and many people it is, that by writing some of this down it might help me better understand not only my depression, but also myself and who I am. And in the end, isn’t that what we’re really trying to do? 

I don’t know what I am holding onto that makes me this way, but I’m holding onto something and I’m getting tired. I’m trying. 

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

To the women standing up and sharing their experiences of sexual assault, thank you for being so brave and so strong. While it might not seem like it, writing “Me too” seems incredibly hard to do. We live in a world where each and every day presents a possibility of women being attacked or oppressed at the hands of someone that feels powerful or entitled. I can only imagine what this is like but for you, it is a reality. AND we have the ability to change this, there needs to be systematic change. I will try harder to open my eyes and call out those that perpetrate these acts, this rape-culture. I see you all, I've seen you all, and I continue to see you. I believe you, and I hope that society, especially men (and men in power) can finally realize the magnitude of this and not meet you with silence which has been the response for so long. I am proud and honored to know you.

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

Numb. Wake Up America.

Note: This isn’t what I normally like to post in my blog, but here we are, in America, in 2017. What a weekend! Worked a shift at the best brewery in the twin cities on Friday, was able to help celebrate the love of two amazing people and party the night away on Saturday, and finished it off by being serenaded by Fleet Foxes on Sunday...

But then I woke up this morning to learn the horrible event that took place in Las Vegas, at a concert, no less. I couldn't help but think, I was at a concert last night, too. What would have happened had someone thought it would be fun to shoot a bunch of Fleet Foxes fans?

I found myself searching for a word, just one word, to try and sum up my emotions and my thoughts. Of course, a lot of words come to mind... Tragic. Terrorism. Outrage. Sadness. Exhausted. Heartbroken. But honestly, the word that shines through the most for me is "Numb." And I've posted/said things like this for past shootings, but it is because they seem to happen with such frequency that the overwhelming feeling I have is to be numb to it all. The subtext to my numbness isn't that I don't care. It's that, like so many of my friends and family, I care too much, I get so worked up, I feel so deeply, but nothing changes. I'll repeat that, nothing changes. The words "semi-automatic" and "mass shooting" just don't phase me anymore.

Most of my friends that will read this feel the same way. More and more Americans think we can do better when it comes to gun safety and regulation, just look at the numbers from the last year, but for some reason, nothing happens. Maybe more and more people realize that "the right to bear arms" had more to do with well-regulated militias with muskets back when you lived 10s and hundreds of miles from the nearest authority than it has to do with your right to own a semi-automatic weapon.

Steve Scalise was shot at a congressional softball tournament, and still, nothing changes. If a GOP congressman can be shot in a mass shooting, and still nothing happens, then how can I expect it ever will? To paraphrase Shaun King, if America couldn't change after Sandy Hook, after little children were gunned down, then why should it change now? I see a lot of, "How many more people need to die" posts and this is a good question, but the answer seems to be, it doesn't matter, this won't change.

And if you pray, if your prayers are with the families and the victims, that's great. I'm so happy that you can find comfort in prayer, in God, in faith. But the pessimistic, nihilistic person in me wants to remind you that GOD ISN'T FIXING THIS! If God even exists, he/she DOESN’T CARE ABOUT THIS! We are on our own to fix this or to accept that it is what we deserve. If your only call from this event is to God and not to your representatives, you're not doing enough. We need YOUR action. We need you to see this and realize that this isn't it. This isn't right. This isn't good enough. This has never been right. If you do anything after this event, do this, ask yourself “IS THIS THE BEST WE CAN DO?” This isn’t a red vs blue thing, this is a HUMAN thing. WE CAN AND MUST DO BETTER. 

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

Beer Review: Deviation 010, Modist Brewing

When do I not have a good time here? That’s the question I am going to start asking myself when debating whether or not to make the journey into the concrete jungle of North Loop, Minneapolis, MN, USA, North America, etc etc, to visit one of my favorite breweries in the Twin Cities (I suppose if that’s how I feel about it, I should probably just go there more often, eh?). Seriously, their selection might not be as large as other breweries, but in this reviewer’s opinion, they always have quality, delicious, fresh beer that pushes some serious flavor boundaries. Face it, like them or not, they always have something different (see First Call, pHresh, Supra Deluxe, TOATS er, I mean False Pattern), which I appreciate wholeheartedly. They are masters and modifiers of their craft, for sure. And so when I walked in today to try their latest invention, I shouldn’t have even questioned if it would be good or not. And let me tell you, Deviation 010 is a good lager. 

Not only is it good, but it is different, just like Modist. Deviation 010 is a lager with a lovely blend of Denali, Heull Melon, and Bravo hops, but it’s also made with 100% experimental huskless barley. What does that mean, exactly? Well, normally, barley comes with a husk or shell (like grains do), but this time the team at Modist partnered with the team over at BSG CraftBrewing to make a beer entirely of this grain. They can do this because they use a special Mash Filter instead of a typical lauter tun, for their, well, lauter (separation of liquid and solid) purposes. Pretty nifty, huh? I don’t want to steal all the fun, you can read more from Modist’s own blog here. 

But this is a GOOD lager here. And I am really only a few years into liking lagers like I like my ales. This crisp beer provides layers of bubbles that dance across the tongue while you inhale a fruity, honeydew melon aroma from the top of the wispy white, single finger head. It has a dull, yellow/orange color that you can’t quite see straight through. It isn’t your typical yellow piss lager, no, this is a craft lager, indeed. Even though it has a great hop lineup, it is only lightly hopped with a slight lingering fruity bitterness that balances nicely with its breadiness. It even gets better as it warms up some. Wow. 

Cheers! 

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

Beer Review: Spirit Foul, My Spirit Full

Super juicy, tropical, and dank”

I don’t know if a beer’s description has ever been more short, sweet, and on point than what Fair State Brewing has said about their new IPA, Spirit Foul. In fact, one whiff from its wispy white, foamy head and a sip of this refreshing elixir, you’ll have a hard time disagreeing. No lie, this beer tastes like a hopped-up tropical fruit punch without staining your teeth red. A collaboration beer with Modern Times Brewing in San Diego, add this beer to the (hopefully) never-ending list of East-coast/ NE IPAs being brewed in this topsy-turbid world. And it might (might!) just be the best NE-style IPA brewed from an MN brewery (though Modist’s “Dreamyard,” Insight’s “NE IPA,” and HeadFlyer’s “It Was All A Dream” all have high marks in my book).

This beer is delicious and yummy, from the first sip to the last gulp. About a finger-width of a white head that disappears quickly after you start drinking it appears after your initial pour. The beer has a dulled, golden, orangy-sunset look like watered down fresh orange juice. It isn’t just “super juicy, tropical, and dank” but it’s super hazy (like, crazy hazy. In fact, you can’t quite tell it is carbonated because it is so cloudy). So, like watered down pulpy orange juice. And the juice comparisons don’t end there. With a distinct and attractive aroma of pineapple, orange, mango, tangerine, and grapefruit, it’s like a tropical, citrus bouquet in your nose. And it tastes like it smells with a thin, softer mouthfeel compared to other NE IPAs out there right now, and a lingering lemon-citrus bitterness from the hops.

Not only is it “super juicy, tropical, and dank,” it's also super limited. In fact, by the time that you’re reading this (people reading my bog? wishful thinking), this beer will probably be well out of stores-- Fair State shipped four-packs (with the art/label above -- super trippy to go along with such a dank beer) to select liquor stores around the Twin Cities for one week only. While you might be able to get a taste (or maybe even a crowler) at the taproom, I don’t expect it to be available for much longer. Here’s to hoping that more of this super delicious beer juice is brewed again soon.

Cheers!

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

If you want to live in a place where people are forced to stand for a flag, try North Korea...they will murder you there If you take a knee. Sounds like some of you would love it there.

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

Beer Snob, what’s in a name?

If you haven’t noticed yet, I kinda have a thing for beer. Don’t worry, it isn’t like I make it obvious or anything (look at the signs: this is a beer and food blog. I am often wearing brewery swag or a flannel shirt, the quintessential beer employee uniform. I send you a lot of pictures and snaps of beer. Did I mention this is a beer and food blog?). Even though I am (not) quiet about it, it is something I have become passionate about. I pride myself in being a true beer snob. 

But what does that mean? I don’t try and push super heavy beer down your throat. I don’t go around knocking red solo cups of piss water out of your hand. I don’t openly bash people’s choices when they order, and I don’t go around correcting your pronunciation of “brettanomyces” (it is pronounced BRETT-an-Oh– you know what, just call it Brett). Well, I guess it means, for me at least, that I tend to like a lot of different styles and I like to appreciate and enjoy all sorts of different flavors. It means that I care about the “craft” of brewing and not just its finished product. It means that I think beer can be a great unify-er, bringing people from all walks of life together. It means that I care about the amount of work, sweat, tears, and (sometimes) blood that goes into making even a small batch of beer. It means I try to deconstruct the flavors that make a beer and appreciate each one as well as the whole. It means I am passionate about good tasting beer.

From as far back as I can remember, my family has enjoyed drinking socially. My parents like wine, they like beer, they even enjoy the once-and-awhile nightcap. My dad would get excited about sharing a new bottle of red he discovered from his local shop (and since all dads are the first hipsters, I am sure it was a bottle you’d never heard of before). My step-dad, who is Dutch, loved and still loves his Belgian beers. My grandparents enjoyed their light, American piss-water (Bud was always the preferred can). And so, there was alcohol at almost every family dinner party my mom would throw and at most family dinners. But the goal was never to get drunk or to pass out. There was never a risk of someone needing a cab to get home. I believe that this instilled in me the idea that you can drink alcohol because you enjoy the way it tastes and because you want to highlight the flavors of a meal or to share a new bottle of something with friends and family. I learned that there were more important aspects of the beverage than just the alcoholic content (note, that still doesn’t stop me from looking at the ABV column on most menus first to get the best bang for my buck). And this isn’t to say I didn’t ever get drunk (of course I have) or that I wasn’t ever irresponsible (oh boy, this one trip to Russia…), it just means that from my parents, I learned how to truly appreciate beer. And I am grateful for that. 

Early on in college, I learned that the beer of choice often came in a 24 or 30 pack for $16.99 (think Coors, Bud, Miller, McGolden, and even the ever-elusive Beer 30) and the sole purpose of this beer was to drink a lot of it fast in the hope of getting you drunk, or at the very least, tipsy. While I liked getting tipsy, I needed to drink A LOT of that sparkling water-like beer to even come close. And I couldn’t taste any of the ingredients, so what was the point? I decided that I wanted, and would eventually come to love, beer that actually tastes good. Imagine that! Ingredients picked to play off each other and balance each other; beer crafted, not just as a cog in some big company’s machine. There’s something about drinking a delicious, layered, well-designed beer and enjoying it for what it is instead of looking for 30 tasteless beers to drink fast enough to get tanked before your sister’s recital (don’t ask).  And so if I was going to drink my bread instead of eating it, then I decided early on that I was going to get picky enough to make sure I chose the calories I actually wanted. And I never looked back.

But while my level of interest in beer only increased as I became more passionate about supporting local breweries, I never got the itch to brew my own beer. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing more rewarding than trying a beer you made in your mom’s shitty soup pot and actually thinking, “hey, this isn’t half bad!” And it can be pretty cost effective if you get into it enough to brew beer regularly. And, I am told, after a few times, you get the process and rhythm down that you can be brewing every few weeks as if it is second nature. So why haven’t I truly taken the plunge?  There’s just so much cleaning involved! The slightest bit of dust or bacteria could ruin hours of work, and I just can’t handle that kind of pressure, I guess. Having helped a few friends and then brewed a beer myself a couple of times, I have an increasing amount of respect and admiration for brewers, both professional, master brewers and the novice home brewer.

Recently, I was lucky enough to design and help brew my own beer at Sisyphus Brewing. And so, the “Orange You Glad You Like Chocolate” stout was born. But it was during this experience that I got to see what it was like to be a brewer for a day.

“It’s a lot of waiting around,” says Nick Walby, the new head brewer over at Sisyphus.  “Some days, most of what I do is just sit and wait.” Indeed, after grinding the malts and adding them to the mash, and then starting the boil, most of our time was spent sitting and talking about soccer (he’s an Arsenal fan, I’m a Liverpool lad). Sure, we were able to check out some of the other beers sitting in fermenters or bright tanks, and we cleaned as much as we could, but that was pretty much it. So not only do brewers have to practice and test making new recipes from scratch or be meticulous about how they want to transfer the fermented beer into a bright tank, but they have to find a way to keep themselves occupied while they wait for their concoction to finish boiling. Of course, that comes with its own set of tasks, too. “We have to make sure to add the hops at certain periods during the boil. That’s how we can determine things like bitterness and hop flavor.” This might seem so basic, so straightforward to some, but during my time as a Brand Ambassador, I learned that a lot of people don’t know what exactly goes into making a beer. And even with me, someone that knows the process very well, it was a completely different experience to do it first hand at an actual brewery instead of in a friend’s garage. Here, I got to really see the impact that adding each ingredient at each stage has on the final product. I suppose, then, it makes sense that brewers just gotta keep practicing and experimenting with different flavors and ingredients until they come out with the product they envisioned. And since brewing takes all day and fermenting takes weeks, you can see that you need to have patience. “Patience might be the most important ingredient, and not everyone has that. And what makes it even harder is that sometimes you have to keep thinking about 10 different things at the same time to keep track for the rest of your day.”  So while the work day is broken up by a lot of downtime, you’re never truly not working. “It can be a grind.” I’ll say. At least when you homebrew, you have your own home to keep occupied. “It can get a little lonely, I suppose, but that’s part of the job sometimes. Plus there’s always something I’m sure I could be doing.”

I guess it takes a particular person and a lot of practice. While I enjoyed my experience immensely and it helps me appreciate the beers I drink and the breweries I visit all the more, I feel like, at this stage in my life, I’m all about drinking it, writing about it, and talking about it than I am about brewing it myself. I’ll keep my beer snob hat until the day I die.

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

It’s Pronounced “Sisyphus,” Why Is That So Hard?

“Craft beers, brewed without a purpose, for a greater purpose.”

Tucked between the bustling Lyndale-Hennepin mess by the Basilica and Dunwoody college sits Sisyphus Brewing, a hidden gem of Minneapolis. With their comically-named delicious beer and their weekly amateur comedy nights, this brewery is sure coming up in the Minneapolis brewery scene and finding its niche. In this reviewer's opinion, Sisyphus is consistently a top 3 brewery in Minneapolis. 

If the taproom looks like it used to be some kind of gutted warehouse or factory, it's because it is. But not without its charm. The exposed brick walls offer a classic vintage feel, the bar itself is an old bowling lane (I think), and they recently put in some rather spacious wooden booths. The shuffleboards, pinball machines, and board game offerings make it the perfect place to hang out with friends and family. The owners also worked hard to add a second space between the main taproom and the brewhouse. This extra room is perfect for events, like a groom’s dinner, but it mostly serves as the taproom’s comedy space where they host amateur and professional comedy shows each almost every week. In fact, on most Thursday evenings, there’s an amateur comedy night where anyone can sign up to tell a few jokes. And it is absolutely free (what a great way to spend your Thursday! And it isn’t like you had anything else to do, right?. Even though the event space is designed as a complete contrast to the main taproom (carpeted, dimly lit, little-to-no natural light, fancy light-up Sisyphus sign with a hipster, vintage wooden backing, and no shuffleboards), the feel is still 100% Sisyphus (and the bar is a gorgeous cut of wood).

Sisyphus is still a smaller brewery, but I think that comes with a big advantage for them: an ever-changing tap list. They typically only have 6-9 beers on tap, but when one runs out, they almost always have a backup ready to go so you might see a changed list over one weekend. This, of course, has some drawbacks. If you really, REALLY like one of their beers, there's always a chance it won't be on tap for a few weeks. But that means you get to try another one of their delicious beer. And that you have to come back because it will be different again and again (gotta catch 'em all, am-I-right?). 

So why is it called Sisyphus? “He’s the greek guy, you know the one that pushes a rock up a hill over and over again,” says Sam Harriman, the owner, and previous head brewer. “We have a small brew system, so we are like Sisyphus, always brewing.” But this is his stock answer. You can tell there is more to it than that. You want his answer? I guess you’ll have to ask him next time you catch him playing pinball. What’s my answer? The myth of Sisyphus tells the story of a man being punished for eternity, which doesn’t make a lot of sense for the theme of a brewery. But, if like Albert Camus (and Sam) have hinted, if Sisyphus is all of us, then maybe we need to flip the myth on its head. Maybe Sisyphus actually enjoyed pushing that rock up the hill. And if that’s the case, then it doesn’t matter if it falls right back down, you enjoyed yourself while doing it. So we need to go find our rock, our passion. For Sam, it’s beer. “I mean, each week we brew a bunch of beer and then people drink it all, so we have to do it all over again the next week.” If you imagine Sisyphus as happy, it changes the narrative completely. 

The brewery always try to offer a tap list with varying styles and strengths so that every kind of beer drinker gets what they want. What kind of beers do they make?

They make lighter beers like their "Anitsocial Apple Ale" (named by Sociable Ciderwerks), the traditional Belgian Blond (recently made with various fruit infusions), or the Citra hop session ale. And drinkable malty beers, like their Kentucky Common, or the "Argyle Penguin Amber" ale. And dark beers, like the "Safe Lady Peanut Butter Stout" (get it?), a traditional chocolatey-sweet porter, or their imperial brown. They make a whole slew of IPAs (I like to think that Sam, one of the owners and previously the head brewer, is a wizard with hops), like their all Citra hopped IPA "The First Beer We Named," the west coast IPA made with wheat called "Isaac the Fax Man," an east-coast style that can only be named "Cloudy with a Chance of Yeastballs," or my personal favorite the "Bottlecap Mosaic" which is an ale with pilsner malt brewed with Mosaic hops (it is really good). They make amazing barrel-aged and imperial beers, like their birthday "Cake" beer, which is actually made with chocolate cakes. And they’ve even started an Employee Beer Series where each employee gets to design and brew their own beer (check out mine, the “Orange You Glad You Like Chocolate” stout). And each beer is $5, no matter what, though some beers are served in a pint glass and others (depending on ABV) are served in tulips. 

I could go on and on here, but the point is, they make traditional beers that are perfect within their own style, they try and tackle all sorts of styles, they play around with different hops and make vibrant IPAs highlighting each hop's unique flavors and aromas, and watch out because some of them are higher in ABV than you might think (delicious and dangerous). The icing on the cake (beer)? The staff are always friendly, the managers are awesome, the owners are so kind, and the brewers know their stuff. The cherry (blond ale) on top? The sales of one beer go towards NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness), so you can feel good about grabbing a second or fifth beer (what happened to 3 and 4?).  I walked into Sisyphus on their opening day three+ years ago and was stunned by how delicious their first beers were and they've been making some of the best beer in the city ever since.

P.S. I work there, so I am biased :-) 

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

PinkU: This Isn’t a Sushi Restaurant

“Do you think we should get potstickers?” As the couple at the register inspects the menu, which is a series of beautifully carved wooden paddles hanging on the wall that each represent a different dish, I can’t help but wonder, how is that even a question? Get 8 potstickers, hell, get 30 and find yourself in the most amazing food coma ever. Its changing weekly specials, not-so-common dishes, and casual dining atmosphere help show just how unique PinkU is. And really, whatever you end up ordering, you can’t go wrong as PinkU continues to impress. 

I think it can be difficult to find a Japanese restaurant in the Twin Cities that isn’t a sushi restaurant first and everything else Japanese cuisine second. The Twin Cities, like most of America, embraced the sushi boom and never really looked back (think about it, Fujiya, Origami, Tango Sushi, even the new/modern Masu Sushi). Then, another movement hit the streets of downtown, and we started to see more and more foodtrucks hanging out during the lunch and happy hours. With those tiny kitchens on wheels, we started to see more of a focus on affordable, amazingly delicious, street food.  So, why not PinkU? 

As you walk around Hennepin Ave in Northeast, it is pretty easy to spot PinkU. Its sign, with vibrant pink flowers, pops against a black backdrop that hangs over an entrance that’s blasted in bright yellow (as if it has been highlighted with a marker). Inside is just as unique, with black walls filled with amazing graphic art, like the giant flowered fish mural at the back of the restaurant. The space is long and narrow, seating maybe 30 people, but stylish and modern with an open kitchen layout so you can see the food prepared fresh. Everything is served to you in minutes on a simple, shiny, silver bento-box-esque cafeteria tray, which only adds to the casual “street food” feel.

With its original and creative menu, it is easy to get addicted to what PinkU has to offer. It's where authentic Japanese dishes and treats meet a creative and original way to get your food. This isn't a sushi restaurant, this isn't a teppanyaki grill: this is Japanese street food. And the best part? They make it all about you. Really!

Though their sushi is delicious, fresh, and hits the spot, this isn't a "sushi" restaurant (like I said). Don't expect to get a chef-selected sushi platter. Looking for a large order of fried tempura? I'd go somewhere else. Want to spend like $40-50 a person? This place will run you to $20 or under, each. Imagine that, an affordable Japanese restaurant where you don't have to sacrifice quality.

Instead of looking for that 20-piece sushi platter, plan on selecting 2 or 3 items off PinKU's menu (or however many items you want, you're a hungry Minnesotan after all!) like the jumbo crispy shrimp on a bed of Japanese rice (or radish noodles if you want to eat what your food eats). So tender on the inside and so crisp on the outside, you might regret only ordering one.  And the sauce those shrimp come with! Oh my goodness, you could live in it. 

I also can't not talk about the "Crispy Rice" dishes. Instead of putting spicy tuna or a seared slice of salmon on a cold ball of sticky rice, PinKU does something different and crisps up the rice base. Think a plain fried rice turned up to 11 and used as the rice pad for your fish of choice. My only complaint is you don't get more of them per order! 

What about something more "traditional" like sushi? They still have items like seared salmon on rice, spicy tuna poke (pok), and then, of course, the "fat rolls" -- traditional sushi rolls with spicy tuna or seared salmon (and by seared, I mean touched with a blowtorch). 

Whatever you decide for yourself, be absolutely sure to then share an order of the delicious, hot, fresh, and juicy potstickers. To repeat, because it is important and I am not sure you read correctly: GET ALL THE POTSTICKERS YOU CAN. Perfectly fried and crispy on one side, they are succulent all around. The best part, at least for me, is that you can really taste the time, love, and thoughtfulness put into each dish. The depth of flavors is immense, the quality of the ingredients is high, and everything is just so fresh. One bite of a potsticker travels you thousands of miles to the house of a Japanese grandmother putting love into each dish. And really, isn’t that what street food is all about? Easy to eat, simply made, not too flashy, perfectly delicious, comfort food. PinkU takes these dishes from home, combines amazing flavors and textures, and brings you to a place that’s brand new yet feels so familiar and homey. The chefs just care. Nuff said.  So, what to get? Everything... but especially the shrimp and the potstickers. But especially everything. How perfect.

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

These Tenants Are Here To Stay

In an episode I watched in a recent binge of Anthony Bourdain's "Part's Unknown," the titular chef states that he doesn't think chefs are artists. Clearly, Bourdain hasn't been to Tenant, the hot new restaurant that has foodies screaming for more.

Tucked away in the old Piccolo spot in the Kingfield neighborhood of South Minneapolis, Tenant is my new favorite restaurant and it might just be the best dining experience you'll have this year.

When you first walk into the small restaurant, you might notice the clean, white walls with the occasional empty vintage frame. You'll see just how small, homey, and cozy the restaurant is, with only a few tables lit by candlelight and then a bar in front of the kitchen that seats about seven or eight people. You might notice the record player spinning staff and guest selected vinyl, ranging from Jay-Z to David Bowie to Michael Jackson, providing a fun and unique feel to the evening. You might notice the amazing smells wafting from the kitchen area. Or maybe before you even get to any of that, you'll be greeted by a member of the Tenant staff, introducing themselves and thanking you for dining with them this evening. Not only are they checking your name to make sure you're on their reservation list (which you will need, by the way), they make you feel welcome and at home. They shake your hand as if you've arrived for a fun evening at a private dinner party at someone's home instead of for a meal at a restaurant.

As you're guided to your table, you'll notice that there are no servers, at least in the traditional sense. Instead, Tenant is a team. You might be served by one of the main cooks. The chef running the grill might refill your water. No matter who comes to your table, you're greeted with kindness and a friendly conversation, as if you're longtime friends. And they're always super knowledgeable of the menu and your meal's ingredients. This creates a unique dining experience as you can't help but feel that you're an integral part of the evening-- Guests of honor, almost. It's easily one of the best customer service experiences you'll have.

And this high-quality customer service is felt throughout the night. Staff members are always looking to refill your water, get you another drink, and ask you about your day. They then want to know all about how you liked (or didn’t like) the previous course. You can tell they actually, care, too, prolonging the conversation and asking you follow-up questions. Even at the end of the night, more than one staff member came around to make sure we got enough food. You could tell that this type of feedback loop is very important for them to ensure you have the best experience possible. The level of attentiveness seen at Tenant will make any restaurant in the Twin Cities green with jealousy. 

Tenant offers up one option: a casual tasting menu of six courses that reflect the ingredients and cuisine of the season. This means you're always going to be dealing with the freshest ingredients. It also means their menu will change throughout the year (so while my photos are amazing, the dishes I got will be different than the dishes you'll get in a month). Each group of diners you arrived with is on the same schedule (adding to the importance of a reservation). This makes it easy for Team Tenant to stay organized and bring out the same courses to all the diners all at once. And they do that part in style, all coming out together carrying the same dishes going to different diners, and then each staff member gives a speech about the dish they are presenting. 

Honestly, I could spend time going over how every detail of each course was perfect, from the fresh herbs to the perfect homemade pasta to the sauces that graced my plate to the rich and subtle flavors that danced across my taste buds. But I'll leave all that for you to discover. 

OK, so there's more than one option if you include the drinks (there's a wine pairing you can add to your meal, as well as a small selection of beer and cocktails). Get the wine pairing if you like wine, or even if you don’t like wine, it’s designed to go well with the food. “Do you think any of us are actual wine people? ... We drink it and think, this will go well with this dish, and so that’s why it’s here” our server told us. These guys are serving up high-quality food but without a hint of pretentiousness. 

In a nutshell, the food was simple, yet out of the highest-quality, perfectly plated, and out of this world delicious. It's an art. It is an art to bring you a coursed-meal that could easily be $100 somewhere else for only $60. It is an art to be this good and yet not be pretentious and fancy. It is an art to bring you foods you know and love, like ravioli, but make it refreshing and new by placing a quail egg and lamb sausage inside. Each member of the staff is an artist.

By the end of the night, you feel like you're part of the Tenant team. Your private conversations will spread to others around you or members of the staff, and soon you're one big group dining together. You’ll be warmed by the cozy atmosphere, but also by the laughs and great conversations of the evening. I can’t help but be reminded by a Dutch word, Gezellig. It is a word to encompass feelings of coziness and a general sense of togetherness. That’s how I felt leaving that night. A fine dining experience indeed and I can’t recommend it enough. Their menu and ingredients will change often, but I hope that Tenant sticks around and stays the same.

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

GET READY FOR FOOD AND BEER POSTS

Here’s the thing, John has been really busy with his beer career ( and day job) so he hasn’t even had time to post in this awesome tumblr he created. Then who is typing this post, you may ask? His loving wife! I know John is a great writer, especially on the subjects of beer and food. See, John is a very humble guy, and he would not tell you this...and rightfully so...I’m gonna brag for him, okay?  John works at Sisyphus Brewing and used to work at Inbound brewing, as a beertender and brand ambassador, respectively. He also frequents the Twin Cities breweries, makes friends with the head brewers, clears empty glasses even at breweries he’s not employed by...the man is a great networker, and very charming and funny. He’s got a brilliant set of tastebuds you can trust (he’s known in his family for his food ordering skills) and knows about every new restaurant in Minneapolis the same week it opens. The point is, this is going to be a great blog once John posts something, and I hope to draw you all in like moths to a flame. Or like slugs to beer....(look it up, slugs LOVE beer) So come, my beer and food slugs, join me on this journey through the Twin Cities Food and Beer scene....

DID SOMEONE SAY FOOD AND BEER?!?!?!