After all, Rogue make outstanding beer. Last year, Jennifer, Maddie, and I rambled up to their brewery in Newport, Oregon for the Brewer’s Memorial Ale Fest and had an outstanding time (beer, music, and dogs–how can you possibly go wrong with a combination like that?). And while I’m not going anywhere near their Voodoo Bacon Maple nightmare anytime soon, I’m usually willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Hazelnut Brown Nectar pours ruby-brown with a full–but quick–tan head that leaves behind a clean glass. A nose full of nuts in this one, fresh-ground hazelnuts toasted and caramel-coated. Hazelnut brittle on the tongue; this beer is like candy: toffee, caramel, cocoa, brown sugar, and, of course, nuts. Low carbonation, medium body. Spicy hops lend a slightly bitter finish. Well balanced. I’m half tempted to try this one with a scoop of vanilla ice cream next time. If you’re nuts for nuts, this one’s gonna make you smile.

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Feet are very much a part of our cultural identity and language. If doubt causes you to abandon your plans, then you’ve got cold feet (thank author Stephen Crane, and his novel, Maggie, A Girl of the Streets, for that one). Soldiers during the Civil War marched to a chant of “hay foot, straw foot” because they didn’t know right from left. Some refer to their feet as “dogs,” as in “my dogs are tired,” which comes from Cockney slang rhyming “feet” with “meat” as in “dogs’ meat.” When someone dies, we bury them six feet deep. If your arch collapses, you’ve got flat feet, but if you’ve got flat feet, you’re likely disqualified to be a police officer, also known as a flatfoot. “Footy” is a desirable characteristic in exotic cheeses. Beer, not so much. Don’t even get me started on the foot fetishists (you know who you are).

And even though there are twelve inches in a foot, some feet are bigger than others.

Which brings me to Bigfoot. Also known as Sasquatch, the Redneck cousin to the Tibetan Yeti—better known as Abominable Snowmen—and mysterious Mi-go (those fun guys from Yuggoth), Bigfoot is perhaps the best-known American cryptid. Big, hairy, ape-like, and notoriously difficult to photograph clearly, Bigfoot wanders the Pacific Northwest on his six-toed, two-foot feet, confounding cryptozoologists and monster truck enthusiasts since the early 1920s.

Commemorating the big brute, Chico, California’s Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. has come up with Bigfoot Barleywine Style Ale, a gold medal-winning barleywine boasting “a dense, fruity bouquet, an intense flavor palate, and a deep reddish-brown color” with “big maltiness balanced by a wonderfully bittersweet hoppiness.” Sounds delicious, but I’m used to barleywines like Lagunitas Olde GnarlyWine and Stone Old Guardian. Let’s see how this one stacks up.

Bigfoot pours a bright, outstandingly clear burnished copper with a thin white-tan head that quickly dissipates, but leaves clumpy, abstract bas-reliefs of lacing on the glass. Toasted malt, caramel, and earthy yeasts on the nose, with aspects of fresh pine cones and lemon peel. Pine and citrus hops on the tongue, aggressively bitter, with notes of sweet caramel and English toffee tempering and evening out the bitter bite of the hops. Warm alcohol is very noticeable… but at 9.6% ABV, it ought to be. Mouthfeel is smooth and creamy, with plenty of carbonation, complex and peppery against the back of the throat, and a dry finish that leaves you wanting more.

For beer & book pairings, check out the original Thirsty Thursday post at Bizarro Central.

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The panel was a blast, with a hungry crowd of prospective authors eager to ask questions and demystify the publishing industry, and I was pleased to be able to answer their questions, talk up Night Shade Books and our stable of authors, and give away a big handful of recent Night Shade titles to the eager audience.

After the panel and a handful of hallway pitches, I had a little bit of time to kill, so I ended up wandering up to a bar called The Big Four and having a beer (an Anchor Steam, for those keeping track) with a young writer from Tijuana named Xavier. We talked about graphic novels, literary influences (like me, Xavier is a big fan of William S. Burroughs), and how growing up along an international border–an Interzone, if you will–is, in itself, a science-fictional reality.

Then, I joined in the “Ask a Pro” session, holding court at a table, taking authors’ questions and listening to pitches. One subject that came up was “Imposter Syndrome,” something I suffer from on a regular basis. Imposter Syndrome is the anxious opposite side of the coin that reads, “fake it till you make it.” It’s the fear that someone’s going to call you out, expose you as someone unqualified to belong to the fraternity of creative professionals. It’s the phenomena that causes you to question whether you belong, to wonder what it is that qualifies you to be a part of the community of writers and editors, and whether you have that quality, or if you’re simply faking it.

I’ve known writers and editors at all stages of their careers to exhibit signs of Imposter Syndrome, from first-time authors afraid the other shoe is about to drop to wizened writers uncertain how to navigate the damnable Retail Death Spiral. Writing is a solitary pursuit, wherein an investment of weeks, months, and years can be damned to failure by the whims of a fickle marketplace and the indifference of uninformed and brutal self-appointed critics. Rejection is such a soul-crushing force that even the threat of rejection can stifle the creative imagination and stay the hand that holds the pen. Even success is no guarantee, as writers are constantly faced with friends and family members who either don’t read, or (worse) only read bestsellers, or ask the inevitable question, “You sold a book (or a short story), does that mean you’re as rich as J. K. Rowling or Stephen King?”

As I said, I suffer from Imposter Syndrome myself, even though I’ve worked on hundreds of books, including a few major award winners, over the last five years. How do I fight it? How do I get through? I simply remind myself:

1) My anthology, The Book of Cthulhu not only made it onto the Locus Magazine Recommended Reading List this year, but it’s also made it onto the Locus Awards ballot in the Best Anthology category. (Pssst… You don’t have to be a Locus subscriber to vote, though subscriber votes count double, so if you want to make a difference and show your support for independent genre fiction, drop by the Locus website and vote!)

2) Also on the Locus Recommended Reading List and Locus Awards ballot are a number of other titles I worked on in some capacity, including Greg Egan’s The Clockwork Rocket, Michael Swanwick’s Dancing with Bears, Catherynne M. Valente’s The Folded World, Kameron Hurley’s God’s War, Stina Leicht’s Of Blood and Honey, Will McIntosh’s Soft Apocalypse, Rob Ziegler’s Seed (which I edited), Jonathan Strahan’s Eclipse Four and The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year, Volume Five, John Klima’s Happily Ever After, and Ellen Datlow’s The Best Horror of the Year, Volume Three.

3) Two novels I edited, John Hornor Jacobs’ Southern Gods and Thomas S. Roche’s The Panama Laugh, are Best First Novel nominees on this year’s Stoker Awards ballot.

4) I’m doing a job I love, and having a great time doing it, so I must be doing something right.

After the “Ask a Pro” panel, I took off my nametag, enjoying the sudden anonymity as I walked back to the parking garage, retrieved my car, and drove home to Petaluma, stopping to pick up a burritos from La Azteca before I got to the house. Once home, I cracked open a Hop Wallop from Victory Brewing, purchased as much for the cartoonish prospector on its label as for the promise of a DIPA.

Hop Wallop pours a clear golden with a two-finger head, not much retention, but plenty of sticky, foamy lacing. Biscuity and floral on the nose, with tropical notes of pineapple and grapefruit contrasting against piney hops and toasted grains. Citrus and pine on the tongue; aggressively bitter, but with candied malt tempering the harsh edges and warm alcohol burn. Nicely balanced. Lightweight mouthfeel, tongue-tingling carbonation, and a sweet, citrusy finish. Comparable to Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA, but with a little more octane and kick. Worth sampling.

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“Got a big white X / On the top of his car / Rex keeps his speed / In a little glass jar…” –Big Black, “Racer X”

I am unabashedly a fan of Speed Racer (Mach GoGoGo), the late 1960s anime series focusing on the adventures of race-car driver Gō Mifune (AKA Speed Racer, voiced in English by Peter Fernandez) and his hard-driving family, including his incognito older brother Rex, better known as the masked Racer X. And while drinking and driving definitely don’t mix, there is a certain appeal to knocking back a cold one while enjoying the vicarious thrills of fast cars, intrigue, sabotage, and a pretty girl with her own helicopter.

So tonight, I’m cracking open a Racer X Double IPA, just released by Healdsburg, California’s Bear Republic Brewing (and, I understand, a little hard to find… unless you shop at Petaluma Market), which promises to “put a California twist on English brewing traditions by adding an assertive hop aroma and bitterness that compliments the firm malt backbone.” Bear Republic already produces one Speed Racer-inspired IPA, the very tasty Racer 5, so this NoCal Adult Beverage holds plenty of promise.

Racer X pours bright, clear orange, with a pronounced, two-finger head and plenty of striated lacing. Hoppy, tropical nose: citrus, mango, and pine, with a warm alcohol undertone. Taste is malt sugar and pine, with a boozy kick and notes of honey, pine resin, and toffee. Very nicely balanced; smooth, heavy body and aggressive carbonation. Dry finish, with bready, malty aftertaste. Racer X is obviously Racer 5′s harder-driving big brother, even if it is going to take him a few seasons to figure it out.

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Best part: You don’t have to be a Locus subscriber to vote (though subscriber votes count double), all you gotta do to vote is drop by the web page and fill out a ballot.

So tonight I’m pouring a celebratory Shipyard Brewing Company Pugsley’s Signature Series XXXX IPA. A “non-traditional American IPA” that is “best drunk at 55 degrees Fahrenheit.” And let’s face it, there’s always something fun about Portland vs. Portland.

XXXX pours pale amber with a few-millimeter-thick white-orange head. Cloud animals and dragons frolic in the lacing. Hoppy on the nose: herbed, buttered biscuits and blood orange marmalade. Bitter on the tongue: sour malt, toasted hops, and cherry brandy. Piney middle, tough and bitter against the back of one’s throat. Alcohol poorly hides behind a velvet curtain; big bulge, shoes visible. Medium body and carbonation. Florals and perfumes emerge as it warms. Raisins, resin, and dry, bitter orange finish. Tempting to treat it like a session beer, but packs a wallop (wrapped in an orange peel).

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Beyond that, I’m having and (finally) reviewing Stone 11.11.11 Vertical Epic Ale, which has been available for a couple of months now. I know what you’re wondering, “how’s it stack up?” First, a little backstory…

For the last decade and a dime, Escondido’s Stone Brewing has been producing annual Vertical Epic Ales, released on those days when all the numbers on the calendar line up (01.01.01, 02.02.02, and so on, the series culminating with this year’s 12.12.12). Last year’s offering, 11.11.11, is an “Ale Brewed With Anaheim Chilies and Cinnamon.” I’m a little late, but how is it?

Stone 11.11.11 Vertical Epic Ale pours a rich, chestnut brown, with a thin, tannish, quick-falling head. Cascading lacing and noteworthy viscosity. Green chilies, cloves, and cinnamon on the nose, with strong suggestions of malt sugar, banana, pear, and Belgian yeast. Tongue follows taste: cinnamon and cloves, then warm, sweet chilies, nutty grains, and a bitter, spicy, dry finish. Lightweight mouthfeel, like thin syrup with active carbonation working overtime to spread the flavors around. Nicely complex, with plenty of bite.

And good reviews are starting to hit for February’s NSB titles (all of which I edited), including W. G. Marshall’s Enormity [Review], Jennifer Safrey’s Tooth and Nail [Review], J. M. McDermott’s When We Were Executioners [Review], and Will McIntosh’s Hitchers [Review 1] [Review 2]. And a spot of week-making news: my anthology, The Book of Cthulhu, is now available in the Sonoma County Library system. Sounds like a great reason to crack open a cold one.

So I’m sampling a Ruthless Rye, from Sierra Nevada Brewing, a “complex ale for the tumultuous transition to spring.” Ruthless Rye pours a deep, translucent amber with a thick, fluffy white head. Heavy, sticky lacing clings to the glass in spattered arcs and snowdrift peaks. Earthy citrus hops and spicy rye on the nose, inviting. Citrus on the tongue; grapefruit and orange peel, followed by rye malt crispness, a touch of caramel, and peppery pine resin. Dry, spicy finish with a bitter rye kick. Medium mouthfeel, with plenty of carbonation. Ruthlessly drinkable.

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The Vixen pours near black, with an implicit reddish-brown tinge, and a half-finger head that quickly gives way to an equatorial ring, bulls, and kiwi birds. Chilies, cocoa, and cinnamon on the nose. Suggestions of mole–perfect with enchiladas–on the tongue; warm roast chiles, sweet chocolate, earthy cocoa and malt. Dark, fruity, and candy sweet. Warm alcohol and bitter hop finish. Smooth mouthfeel; goes down easy.

Very drinkable. Fairs well against Theobroma and Suckhole Stout. Paired nicely with dinner, and into dessert, a The Niner cupcake from Sift.

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I have the best intentions in writing these reviews. I believe that brewing is one of the hallmarks of civilization, and that by sharing my thoughts on quality adult beverages with you, I somehow enrich your lives.

Thing is, some of these adult beverages can be a bit strong. And I’ve reached the point a few times, mid-way through a bomber of fine ale, where I’ve said to myself, “This is quite good, but there’s no way I’m gonna be able to objectively review this one tonight.”

So tonight, I’m (once again) knocking back a Butchertown Black Ale, from San Francisco’s Speakeasy Ales and Lagers. For the third time. Because at 8.2% alc/vol, this one packs a wallop.

Butchertown Black Ale pours deep brown-black with an inch-thick toffee-colored head that collapses to a thin cap, leaving splatters, rings, and dashes of lacing down the glass. Toasted malt, chocolate syrup, and spicy hops on the nose. Taste is dark malt sugars, burnished barley, peppery hops. Bakers’ chocolate and a touch of tobacco. A pinch of grapefruit citrus bitterness lingers. Lightweight, creamy mouthfeel. Tongue-tickling carbonation. Deceptively easy-going and drinkable, this one has a habit of lolling you into comfortable submission, then sneaking up on you and BAM!, right in the head. Recommended, but take precautions.

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