Fingerlakes April 2018: Part 1

Situated only about four hours north of Central PA, the Fingerlakes region of upstate New York had eluded me for many years. Brewslut visited several years ago with a group of friends, but I was unavailable (likely due to pesky band obligations). However, the craft beer scene was still in its infancy in this region, dominated by an abundance of wineries.

Rather than the usual Team D(r)INK suspects, the cast of characters this time included four-fifths of my old 80's party rock cover band, Brazilian Wax. Awesome name, right? The brains (and disco tits... more on that later) behind the operation was Adrienne, girlfriend of my long-time musician buddy and studio wizard Mike. (I'd worked with Mike outside of Wax several times, as he's recorded my band herbie for various studio projects.) It was also right around his birthday, so we'd be surprising him with a little drunken soiree at some point during the trip. Also joining us were Mike and Kit (collectively known as the Bodans from here on out) and Kelly (whom you may remember from her role as Designated Driver during our Drinksgiving Trip to VA Beach back in November). the seven of us would be sharing a house right on Cayuga Lake, one of the larger lakes in the Fingerlakes region.

Our mission? To drink, of course! In addition to a host of great wineries, the beer scene was now also quite mature. There were even a few craft distilleries peppered throughout the area. Being the most obvious "beer guy" of the group, I was asked to put together a list of breweries for our itinerary. Sounds like a task in which I have ample experience. Based on the location from our house and the beers listed on each candidate's respective web site, I put together a list of about a dozen places I'd deemed worthy of a potential visit. The only place we absolutely HAD to visit was Two Goats, because... well... GOATS!

Our plan was to leave immediately after the last bell rang at Brewslut's school. We'd planned to meet at a Park & Ride in nearby Dauphin because our home was in the opposite direction. I ducked out of work a bit early so we could ensure getting to our destination at a reasonable hour. We landed at our home for the long weekend at around 7:45 p.m., just in time to down a beer before heading out to dinner, for which we had reservations at 8:15 p.m. Bodan (as he will be called from here on out... I never call a Mike by his first name, only his surname) picked up a few local six-packs on his way from Vermont, so I indulged in a bottle of Caged Alpha Monkey IPA from the unfamiliar CB Craft Brewers out of Honeoye Falls, NY (where the fuck is that?). It hit the spot after the lengthy 4-hour drive and with that, we were off to dinner.

While I don't recall the name of the restaurant, I did consume a yummy grilled chicken sandwich with mushrooms and Swiss, along with a side of sweet potato fries. Brewslut got the same thing minus the fries, and she was less than thrilled with her Caesar salad. C'mon, a salad? We're on vacation. Bring on the fries, I say! I washed everything down with a tasty Mocha Stout from nearby Bottomless Brewing (more on this brewery in a bit).

Friday night concluded with several hands of Cards Against Humanity (arguably the greatest game of all time) and my slow decline into a drunken stupor, which included a solo trip to the hot tub. Kids, don't try this at home, especially after about four pounder cans of Perpetual IPA. Luckily Adrienne came out to check on me because I was starting to nod off. (Washkevich, she's a keeper). Brewslut, on the other hand, couldn't have given a shit about my potential for drowning. Your wife... RIGHT! At any rate, I slept well that night.

I awoke at around 9 a.m. on Saturday morning, as instructed by the group. After a sweet mimosa, breakfast courtesy of the Bodan's, and a much needed shower (yes, my hair frizzes out sideways when introduced to the chlorine-saturated water of a pool or hot tub), we were off on our first afternoon of Fingerlakes fun.

First stop? Two Goats! I'd been excited to visit here for years based solely on its name alone. While we were on our way to Two Goats, I noticed that there was some kind of drinking establishment (brewery, winery or distillery) about every 500 to 1000 feet. I certainly appreciated the convenience of the lay of the land. Plus we had a DD in charge of the drunk bus, so that was an added bonus.

Two... two goats! Ah ah ah!!! (Photo by Kit Bodan)

I must admit, I was hoping to see some real, live goats at Two Goats... at least two of them. Sadly, there were no goats to be seen, other than the signage and merchandise strewn about the small garage-like tasting room. After perusing the list of about a dozen offerings, I landed on a pint of XIPA, which I assume stands for Extra India Pale Ale. Unfortunately, Two Goats doesn't subscribe to regaling its consumers with wordy descriptions of its beers or fancy, adjective-laden names. As a marketing guy, I found this somewhat disappointing, especially since the name of its brewery includes my favorite four-legged friends. The beer started off on the right foot but slowly devolved into a diacytl mess as it warmed up. The initial flavor was pretty solid and the body was nice and hefty, but I'm overly sensitive to the "buttered popcorn" flavor emitted by diacytl when it's present in beers. While the beer itself wasn't undrinkable, the diacytl presence definitely detracted from my full enjoyment of the beer.

Tap handles at Two Goats. (Photo by Kit Bodan)

Brewslut went with a pint of Danger Goat!, a blond Doppelbock that was OK in the grand scheme of things. But Two Goats gets bonus point for the name of the beer as well as the style. I seldom run into Doppelbocks on tap at small breweries, and I'm pretty sure I've never encountered a blond version. I guess there's a first time for everything, eh?

For a final beer, I bought a pint of Dirty Butt, a blend of Cream Ale and Dirty Shepherd Brown Ale, for the group. This one produced a nice layered effect a la Tequila Sunrise, but it definitely was prettier to look at than it was to imbibe. It wasn't very well-received. It wasn't bad, but let's just say the taste was closer to its namesake than not.

While I loved the vibe, goat imagery, and the overall atmosphere of the place, the beers fell a bit short of my expectations. Perhaps I was too excited to fulfill my goat quota for the day. Regardless, I was glad to have finally made it to this brewery after many years of longing to "get my goat on!"

Here's what you do with a dollar, a tack and some change. (Photo by Kit Bodan)

Rooster Fish was up next. Mike and Adrienne had stopped on their way to the house, and Mike gave the thumbs up. He mentioned a Coffee Blonde ale, and that was all it took to sell me on a stop. I mean, it was already on the itinerary, but we happened to be driving right through downtown Watkins Glen on our way to another brewery, so why not get two birds stoned at once? 

I really dug the vibe of the tasting room. It was open and cozy, with lots of warm, rustic wood decor and a sweet standing bar with some cool light fixtures. There was also an over-sized chess set near the board game area, complete with a coffee table and some comfy seating options. I love a good game of chess, but nobody was in the mood for a match with me. Well, except for Pleeps.

Pleeps... King of the Fingerlakes for a few days.

First on the agenda, a pour of the Coffee Blonde. I'd first encountered a string of light-colored coffee ales during our trip to Portland, OR two years ago, and I thought, "Damn! This trend needs to find its way to the East Coast." Well, I'm happy to report it has, and I jump at the chance to try a new one each time I come across one in our travels. This example was pretty solid, though not mind-blowing. As with Two Goats, I couldn't locate any information on any of Rooster Fish's beers aside from its handful of flagships. I'm assuming this one was brewed with local coffee, but who knows? Rooster Fish touts itself as NY's first farm brewery, so I suppose it's possible that they grow, harvest, and roast its own beans. Either way... NEED THE INFO!

Inside Rooster Fish Brewing.

Up next was a pretty nice Cocoa Porter. Again, no information to be found about this beer on the interwebs. However, the description I came across on Untappd made me chuckle.

Pours a clear dark brown body with a small ring of beige head. The nose is a nice mix of cocoa and chocolate malt, fairly dry smelling, some lighter notes of coffee and roast. The flavor is decent, a little heavy on the burnt caramel for a Porter, but some decent cocoa notes. A little roastiness on the finish. Mouthfeel is medium bodied with soft fizzy carbonation and a lingering chocolaty finish. Pretty decent stuff.

Sounds like someone needs to claim its brewery. This write-up hearkens back to my Beer Advocate reviewing days when I used to encumber myself with a notebook and pencil, and sit in the corner scrawling away and blathering on about mouthfeel, frothy off-white crowns of foam, cascading effervescence, and elaborate doily-like lacing decorating the walls of my shaker pint. These days, I just check in my beer and move along.

Anyone know what this is? Rooster Fish has one.

We also shared a pour of an NE-style IPA brewed with New Zealand hops, aptly named New Zealand Party-gyle. OK, at least the New Zealand part is apt. Not sure to what the Party-gyle refers. Either way, this was the best of the bunch, in my opinion. Overall, a nice soft mouthfeel with ample haze and a hop aroma boasting tropical fruit, melon and some citrus. This was a pretty solid interpretation of the style. Plus I love me some Kiwi hops! And with that, it was time to shuffle off across the street for a late lunch at a local Asian place. Brewslut and I split a sushi roll and both had Pad Thai (shrimp for me and chicken for her). Everyone concurred that the sushi was quite excellent, despite taking a very long time to get served, especially since the restaurant was virtually empty.

After filling our bellies, it was off to the next drinking destination, which happened to be Seneca Lake Brewing. This place is an anomaly in that they feature all cask conditioned beers exclusively. One of the first things I noticed aside from the long line-up of beer engines was signage plastered on the walls about a "No Cell Phone" policy. According to this rule, anyone using a cell phone for any reason other than to take pictures is subject to a $10 fine, which is donated to charity. While I'm not sure how enforceable this rule is, I appreciated it (even though I was going to check in my beers on Untappd no matter what the law of the land dictated inside this pub's doors). With that said, I would have loved to have witnessed some oblivious Millennial get bounced from the building for checking out his latest hipster app or logging into his Tinder account. (I still don't know what the fuck Tinder is; I merely know it exists and that young people use it.)

Beer engines as far as the eye can see!

Archie's Mild, a 3.8% English Mild, often referred to as the quintessential English session ale, seemed like an appropriate place to start. This offering was pretty middle-of-the-road with some pleasant toffee and cocoa notes. Brewslut opted for the Steamship Stout, a Foreign Export Stout brewed with Cascade and Fuggle hops. I haven't come across Fuggles in quite a while, so I was anxious to try this one. It turned out to be my favorite of the lot, and boasted complex notes of leather, tobacco, cocoa, and licorice with a faint smokey finish. This sucker was solid!

I rounded out the ensemble with Beerocracy Bitter, a classic English-style bitter weighing in at 3.6% ABV. Typically one of my favorite English beer styles (along with the more robust ESB, or Extra Special Bitter), this one missed the mark a bit for me. It was a bit thin and watery, and lacking flavor.

We had fun playing "Would You Rather," which is now apparently a card game you can purchase. We played this game for free in the herbie van (named Mangina, by the way) for many years, courtesy of our own warped minds. We don't need no stinkin' cards!

One thing I found to be peculiar was that Seneca Lake sold growlers of its beers. In all my years of beer traveling, I have NEVER come across a brewery willing to sell cask-conditioned beer in take-home containers. Given the high tourist traffic the brewery must receive, I suppose it makes sense to have some sort of take-out beer available, especially if the customers enjoy the beer and won't be back for the foreseeable future.

Outside Climbing Bines.

While our next stop, Climbing Bines Hop Farm, didn't make my final itinerary, I'm glad we stopped in for a while. Weather and gray skies aside, the land here was quite picturesque, especially for beer fans. Long rows of hop bine poles lined the landscape, and rock formations (reminiscent of the "inukshuk" on the cover of Rush's Test for Echo album) accented the courtyard area. This would be a perfect spot to take a stroll with beer in hand and enjoy the grounds of the brewery, but, of course, rain, mud, and cold weather stifled my plans, so Brewslut and I made our way inside while the rest of the group took a smoke break.

I just like this photo. (Photo by Kit Bodan)

I knew it was going to happen sooner or later on this trip. Yes, that's right, folks. WOO GIRLS! Anytime you see a young twenty-something woman wearing a sash, a "bride-to-be" T-shirt, or - worse of all - a tiara... well, you need to get as far away from them as possible. I thought Brewslut was going to blow a gasket. These women were drunkenly humping the foosball table, which happened to be a few short feet away from our table.

With Woo Girls flanking us in every direction, I knew I needed something substantial to dull the pain. Enter Barley's Wine, a 10.5% ABV American barleywine with equal parts boozy warmth and fruity hops. Part of Climbing Bines' "Pandemonium Line" of beers featuring hops grown on premises and  organic barley harvested just a few miles down the road at Peter Martens Farms, this sucker was smooth and hoppy. It went down way too easily for a double-digit ABV beer, and I'm glad I got a half pour. The bartender was trying to interest me in a $9 "keep the pint glass" of this beer, which would have been a ridiculous amount of such a big beer to drink while on a long brewery crawl (even for this seasoned pro). The other option was a plastic logo cup for $7.50. I opted for the kid's portion for $3.50, which was by far the best deal (both for my pocket and my liver).

Tap handles at Climbing Bines.

Brewslut opted for the Imperial IPA, also from its Pandemonium Line. Teetering just under 8% ABV, this guy was brewed with Cascade, Chinook and Nugget, then dry-hopped with Cascade for a big citrusy character. She also went for the kid's portion. Not bad overall, although I'm definitely I went with the barleywine, which I enjoyed immensely.

Speaking of Pandemonium, Brewslut was getting quite agitated with all of the oblivious cell phone zombies populating the area. Since we were huddled in a partly covered seasonal sitting area, the exit door was closed due to the chilly temperature. Thus, brewery management affixed a pretty large sign on the door - right at eye level, no less - indicating the following simple instructions: "Please keep the door shut. Thank you." After three customers in a row failed to oblige, I could sense Brewslut's temper beginning to percolate. Two more people passed through and also were unsuccessful in following these basic written instructions. Then all hell broke loose. Yes, the wrath of Brewslut was unleashed on the twenty-something patrons like the apocalypse. OK, so I may be over-exaggerating a bit. Let's just say everyone in the room heard her when she, quite loudly and audaciously, exclaimed in her booming schoolteacher voice, "Will you people please shut the fucking door?!" Coincidentally, the next person to pass through the door was a clearly mentally challenged young man, and even he had the wherewithal to comprehend the simple directions on the sign, and kindly obliged by shutting the door behind him as he exited. Chalk one up for the short bus. It was definitely an ordeal that made me refrain from using my cell phone for a while.

 

Hop bines. (Photo by Kit Bodan)

After the Woo Girl incident, it was time to head to our final destination of the day, Bottomless Brewing. the building was quite large and reminiscent of a cross between a huge barn and airplane hangar. Once we got out of the van, we could hear the strains of that horrendous Proclaimers song (you know, "I would walk 500 miles") being played at a very slow tempo. Sounds like we had some live music in store for us! As me made our way inside, there were two very young girls (one extremely drunk) hugging each other. The less drunk one was kind enough to open the door for us as we filed in. Unfortunately, I was the one who heard the drunk one say, "Don't open the door for them... fuck those people!" Wrong answer. I proceeded with the following zinger: "Have fun getting her home tonight. Looks like someone's gonna get raped." Fuck who?

Once we were inside, we noticed there were two separate floors. Downstairs was small and pretty cramped, with a small tasting bar along the right wall that accommodated maybe 10 or so people. After checking out our options, we ordered a pair of IPAs - Momo IPA and the aptly (and generically-named) IPA - and decided to explore the building. The Momo was definitely the better of the two IPAs we sampled. Of course, it was the hazy NE-style that prevailed. The other paled in comparison. Neither were memorable in the grand scheme of things, though.

Outside Bottomless Brewing.

Heading upstairs, we deduced that the band was housed on the second floor. The sound was pretty bad albeit not too loud, all things considered. I mean, we were in a large, wooden air hangar-like building with no soundproofing. Perfect for live music, right? Washkevich and I noticed a ping pong table at the far end of the room, and we rocked out a quick, semi-drunken game while the band tried its best to work its way through songs like "Piano Man" and "Sweet Caroline." One of the side effects of being a somewhat proficient musician is my unfortunate overly critical opinion of live bands when I come across them in my travels. I've stumbled upon some really awesome bands, and will typically let them know i appreciate their talents, either by tipping them, buying a CD, or just telling them so. Then there are bands like the one rocking out on this particular evening. "Sweet Caroline," eh? That's the hipster version of playing "Free Bird" or - God forbid - "Brown Eyed Girl." It could have been worse, though. It could have been "Wagon Wheel." That's right. Fuck that song. Fuck it up its stupid ass. Perhaps they saved it for the encore. Either way, it was our cue to move along.

However, a quick visit to the men's room revealed perhaps the greatest sink I've ever encountered... anywhere! Yes, it was a cow's backside, and the water came out of the teet. It was a happy coincidence that wasn't lost on me as we made our way back to the house. (You'll soon be privy to the coincidence in the following paragraphs.)

This sink is udderly awesome!

Back at the house on Saturday, it was time to party... disco style! But first, we had to distract Washkevich (the birthday boy) so the ladies could decorate. I was put on distraction duty, and the two of us grabbed a beer and retired to the game room for some billiards. Yes, that's right. Our house was fully equipped with not only a pool table, but also a ping pong table, cornhole boards and bags, an electronic dart board, flat screen TV, and a pair of kayaks, you know, in case we decided to embark on a drunken water sport adventure in the lake across the street. By this time, I was hammering pounder cans of Perpetual IPA and was ready to eat. After about half an hour or so, it was time to head back upstairs for our grill feast - complete with burgers, sausages, chicken, and all the fixins.

Bring on the Disco Tits!

We had a blast drinking and celebrating, which included a cake decorated to resemble quite a set of mammalian protruberences. Actually, all of the decorations were either breast or disco related, from the balloons to the disco balls to the boob-shaped squirt gun. (See? I told you the cow sink would tie in!) We even each got our own Disco Tits koozie. (If you're unfamiliar with Disco Tits, watch this video. I promise you will laugh... a lot.) I'm pretty sure more inappropriate games were played, and more drinking ensued, so much so that we never made it to the hot tub that night. It didn't matter. Fun was had by all. 

Stay tuned for Part 2, which includes... guess what?... more drinking! Until next time...

Photo courtesy of Disco Tits.