Your Gal Friday: Guess Who's Back

by Laurel

Photo from Cascade's website

I realize it's not exactly in the best taste (or with Lady Luck on one's side) to begin a post after an extended absence with an Eminem reference, but such are my transgressions toward The Internet at large. So, Shady's back, blah, blah, et cetera. And so am I, as it were. I've martyred myself like a valiant Joan of Arc - Joan of Alc(ohol) - for your sakes during my time away, toasting my way through the long last hours of 2010 and exploding like a firework into 2011. Slim Shady and Katy Perry cast long shadows over the text contained in this post, folks. 


So let's dive right in, shall we? (Click to continue reading)

BUT! Before I delve into the finer points of my boozy reconnaissance mission, I'd like to point out that the structure of this post won't follow like some of my past efforts because unlike those, I won't be discussing hard alcohol today, nor will I be sharing a recipe. Rats, I know. But out of all the things I will (eventually) share with all of you (Absinthe! Cocktails! DIY! Etc!), I felt that I needed to get this off my chest first:


I am in love.


Granted, the object of my ardent devotion is not, in fact, a gentleman (or a lady - behave!) but is, in fact, an inanimate object. Rather, it fulfills the Place and Thing requirements of the noun triunity (and I'm the Person, so you see, we're a match made in Mad Libs heaven). I'm talking about Cascade Brewing Company in Portland, Oregon. 


No less than three times did I storm the gates of the barrel house while home for Christmas, and no less than three times was I simply blown away by the kind of beer being brewed in this little corner of the Pacific Northwest. Cascade is the go-to brewery if sour beer is your thing and oh, Lordy is it ever my thing. If I devised a more perfect beverage to consume, it would contain unicorn tears and cherub dandruff (gold dust to the rest of you unimaginative Plebes), but even my perfect brew would pale (ale - ha-HA!) in comparison to the alchemic magic those wizards are cooking up. And you may not believe me, but I haven't even consumed one of Cascade's brews (or any brew) prior to typing up this review - though my sloppy, drunk-like effusiveness is utterly boundless when it comes to this place. 


All of Cascade's sours are brewed in used wine barrels from the region (otherwise known as Not-As-Expensive-As-Napa-Or-As-Bourgeois-As-Fraaahhhnce), or in some cases, used whiskey barrels. Local fruit and hops are used in abundance. The result is a cadre of sours with an enormous amount of depth and complexity - sweet without being cloying, dry in all the right places, soulfully balanced with that telltale sour nip on the finish. Whether Kriek's punchy cherry wallop, The Vine's nostalgic communion overtones, Sang Noir's bold, brash confidence, or Bourbonic Plague's unapologetic decadence (and really - I could go on), there isn't a single beer I've tasted at Cascade that I haven't loved for one reason or another. Often, once they tap a barrel, what you see is what you get. When it's gone, it's gone. And so it goes for a group of brewers who truly love their craft. 


It's (almost) enough to convince me that I don't really need 362 days of sunshine a year.


Check out their beer list here, or follow them on Twitter. And if you're in the Portland area, you truly have no excuse for not busting a move to the East Side right this second to see for yourself. I even got both of my parents, neither of them beer drinkers, to gush unapologetically about how delicious their beers were. So I'll shout it from the rooftops once more: I'm in love! I'm in love! And I don't care who knows it!