Flashback to 2002, when digital designer Carin Luna-Ostaseski was at the tail end of a long day of work and a friend invited her to have a glass of scotch. At the time, scotch was not Carin’s proverbial cup of tea.

“Yeah, so I was a total cliché,” she remembers. “I was that girl dressed all in black, living in New York City, hanging out at hotel bars, drinking martinis. I even had that silly way I ordered them, thinking I was all fancy…”

She told her friend no; she didn’t drink scotch—she’d tried it once and thought it was too strong. He persisted: “One time? That’s like saying that you don’t drink red wine, because you had one red wine, once. Come on; you just haven’t found your brand yet. Let me take you on a whiskey adventure.”

That night she fell instantly in love…with Oban 14. “I love the complexity, the delicate flavor balance,” she says. While staring into the amber depths, she realized she deeply appreciated the very nature of scotch—a legacy drink that requires a patient and thoughtful approach to production. “I love that whiskey makers are putting the product into barrels for future generations—whisky they may not get to taste when it’s finally aged,” she explains.

Carin and I have a few things in common. The first scotch I ever drank was Cutty Sark, and I thought (correctly) that it tasted like furniture polish. I didn’t touch another bottle until several years later when my friend Jeff insisted that I try The Glenrothes, which was a revelation—the delicate smoke, the honeyed depths! I’d never tasted a booze so delicious in my life. I’ve been drinking scotch ever since (though not continuously).

Over the years, I’ve acquiesced to many friends’ invitations to go on “whiskey adventures.” The difference between Carin and me is that my whiskey adventures left me with a taste for expensive scotch and many a brutal headache, and Carin’s inspired her true life mission.

Today, Luna-Ostaseski is the founder of SIA Scotch, a brand that won a 96 point rating from the Ultimate Spirits Challenge, beating out Lagavulin, Glenmorangie, Laphroaig, and Glenlivet. Whiskey Advocate has called it “outstanding,” and BevMo recently picked up the brand for distribution.

SIA is affordable (below $50 a bottle), and its branding doesn’t shout “scotch!” The bottle is tall and slender; the label simple and bold. And neither is the flavor an assault on the senses. Luna-Ostaseski made accessibility in price, appearance, and flavor her top priorities because her goal is to introduce scotch to new demographics, taking it beyond the spirits’ traditional market: old white men. As the 40-year-old daughter of Cuban immigrants, the former digital designer is well-suited for this task.

Her journey from enthusiast to entrepreneur is a scrappy tale. It all goes back to the night of whiskey adventure. She wanted to share that thrill of discovery with friends and became something of a scotch pusher. In her quest to make converts, she soon pinpointed that people were turned off by the peaty nose, which can be overwhelming to first-timers. She needed a scotch that was alluring and easy to drink but with a complexity that would convey the wonders of the spirit.

“I started taking two whiskeys that I thought could balance each other,” she explains. “I’d get three glasses and a mixing jar, and I’d sit in my kitchen and experiment with ratios until I got something I liked.” This experimentation was fun, and she began hosting blind tastings of her concoctions. “You start to get reactions from people,” she says. “Eventually there was one clear blend.”

Not too far into her ongoing whiskey adventure, Carin realized that spirits were her true passion. But getting from daydream to reality took some footwork. Eight years and a 40-day Kickstarter campaign later, Luna-Ostaseski launched SIA.

In the early years, she faced a certain skepticism from the traditional scotch community. “Trying to find a partner was almost impossible,” she says. “I got 80 No’s from people. No, we’re not interested. No, we can’t help you. No, you’re crazy what do you think you’re doing?”

She finally found an ally in Lauren Shayne Mayer of Spirit Imports, and Mayers connected her with Douglas Laing & Co., a Scottish distillery that agreed to work with her specifications. To create the desired blend, Laing would send Luna-Ostaseski samples via mail. She would blind taste and offer feedback. “They told me to make sure to taste it in the morning before you brush your teeth–that’s when your palette is cleanest,” Carin recalls, laughing.

As a woman who was born in the 70s and tends to enjoy things that are traditionally male, I will tell you that it can be intimidating to step into the realm of the old world aficionados. It can be difficult to voice your opinion when you’re told that certain interests are not your natural domain. Even if you’re passionate and knowledgeable, the hurdles are numerous and insidious. And I’m simply talking about gaining the confidence to say what I truly think about a given bottle of scotch–not the confidence I would need to create my blend and then weather the pushback from old guard snobs. So I’ve got to hand it to this lady. For lack of a better word, that takes serious balls.

But I can see why Luna-Ostaseski is confident. SIA is good. The 86 proof blend is 50% Speyside, 40% Highland, and 10% Islay.  I’ve been something of a single malt snob, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover that this blend is delicious—it’s smooth, with a strong vanilla profile, a breath of citrus, a honeyed body, and a delicate hint of smoke. In the interest of science, I decided to compare it with the single malt I had on hand—a 12-year Glenlivet. I found the SIA more pleasant—less complex perhaps, but also smoother and less bombastic.

In a world too often obsessed with the gritty and disturbing, there’s something to be said for the pleasant and beautiful–especially if it’s also bad ass.

The post Discovering SIA Scotch appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

“Hamilton was brilliant, but he was also kind of a dumbass and a bit of a slut. Thomas Jefferson (of all people) publicly shamed him for tomcatting around with married women, and Hamilton was so bombastically obnoxious that Aaron Burr actually killed him for it.”

I’m comforted by immersing myself in a past reality and remembering that catastrophes recede into the past. No matter how bad things get and no matter how awful people are, eventually new leaders and schools of thought usurp the spotlight. Often these replacements are deeply flawed, but somewhere along the way we’ll find beauty, kindness, renewal, maybe even redemption.

So history can be an antidote to trying times, a reminder that life does indeed cycle and that today’s villains will likely come to unpleasant ends. But it doesn’t end there. Even when my depression is deeply personal or — worse yet — that creeping ennui that seems to have no definitive source, I look to my old friend the bookshelf.

History is not my comfort blanket because I want to compare my own problems to the truly disadvantaged. No depressed person wants to be told “Buck up, at least you’re not a starving child in Africa” or “Buck up, at least you’re not barefoot in the snow and dying of dysentery at Valley Forge.” I don’t necessarily read history to remind myself that I have it better than other people. I read history to remind myself of two important points.

First, to remember that everyone makes mistakes. And these mistakes don’t always negate a person’s accomplishments. I’ll use Alexander Hamilton as an example because everyone seems to know who he is these days. Hamilton was brilliant, but he was also kind of a dumbass and a bit of a slut. Thomas Jefferson (of all people) publicly shamed him for tomcatting around with married women, and Hamilton was so bombastically obnoxious that Aaron Burr actually killed him for it.

So was Alexander Hamilton a slutty idiot? No, he was a bastard (literally) from a shamed and impoverished family who managed to vault himself to fame and fortune through his own brilliance and tenaciousness, and who basically invented the US economic system. (Some might view this as a negative, but there’s no denying that Hamilton’s machinations stabilized the new country and positioned the United States as a future world power.)

So next time you’re thinking, “Wow, everyone thinks I’m an obnoxious dumbass,” or “Wow, I’m being slut-shamed,” or “No one ever gives me due credit for my brilliance,” or “I’m way more qualified to be president than this douchebag,” find your solace in Alexander Hamilton, an excellent reminder that life and legacy have dramatic ups and downs. In the current Hamilton mania it’s easy to forget, but ten years ago half of America had forgotten who Hamilton was. The U.S. Treasury was considering removing him from the $10 bill. Then Lin-Manuel Miranda happened to read and get inspired by Ron Chernow’s bestselling hagiography. So no matter how bad your situation looks today, it’s totally possible that Lin-Manuel Miranda might someday write a musical about your accomplishments. You too might garner posthumous glory! Hey, whatever it takes to get out of bed in the morning.

Now, you may be thinking, “This does not help me because I’m not an economic mastermind with a glittering intellect and there’s no way I’m going to improve my shitty economic situation by marrying into one of New York’s ruling families.” Fair enough. But even if other people’s brilliance depresses you, history may still afford comfort. In addition to imagining my future hagiography, I read history because it reminds me that I am, indeed, insignificant. That the anguish I’m feeling is insignificant, a tiny grain of darkness in the great shifting mosaic of history.

Just as the kingdom of Palmyra rose and fell, just as Van Gogh cycled from brilliance to madness, just as my ancestor Wolfert Gerritse Van Kouwenhoven cheated the Indians out of a vast swathe of Long Island, just as disgrace obscured Aaron Burr’s heroism, just as Italian immigrants dreamed the American Dream while laboring in airless tenement sweatshops, just as settlers moved restlessly west…My life is a tiny cycle, one curlicue in a terrible yet beautiful pattern. I read history for the same reason I stare at the stars.

History reminds me that I am nothing, but also part of the infinite.

The post Hamilton and the Link Between Inspiration and Insignificance appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

We are at an unnamed mezcal distillery high in the mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico. The tiny distillery consists of a dirt yard, the pit, and a shed that contains an old copper still, a holding tank brimming with fermenting agave fiber, and an immense stone wheel. Beyond the enclosure, fields of spiky agave, or maguey, stretch up into the forested slopes.

This yard is one of hundreds of mom-and-pop distilleries that dot the mountains south of Oaxaca City. A far cry from the modern autoclaves of the big tequila distilleries, these operations work with fire, dirt, stone, and the age-old art of fermentation. You want artisanal booze? Try something burro-powered. Yes, the stone wheel that crushes the maguey fiber is actually pulled by a burro.

Making Mezcal (the traditional way)

Here’s the process: Men and women harvest agave from the surrounding fields and mountains. Jimadores (professional agave harvesters) cut off the spiky leaves and bury the agave hearts, or piñas, in a giant roasting pit. After roasting for about a week, the smoking agave hearts are removed from the pit and ground to fiber. Next the palanquero (distiller) settles the fiber in vats, where it will ferment for a week or two. At the end of the fermentation period, the viscous liquid is ready for distilling in a copper or clay still. Mezcal is typically distilled twice.

Tequila and Mezcal: What’s the Difference?

Mezcal is a distilled liquor made from the agave plant, a member of the botanical order asparagales, which includes asparagus and narcissus. Historically, mezcal was a blanket term for any type of agave spirits, meaning that tequila is technically a type of mezcal, albeit one made in a specific region (Jalisco and parts of four surrounding states) and from a specific type of agave, agave tequilana.

Today, tequila and mezcal are considered separate designations. Taste-wise, tequila differs from traditional mezcal because tequila distilleries employ industrial processes, replacing pit roasting with modern ovens or autoclaves. Good mezcal is smokier, earthier: these distinct flavors stem from artisanal methods: the smoke of the pit, the use of diverse species of agave (including wild plants) and, sometimes, from the clay of the traditional still. (That said, mezcal doesn’t need to be super smoky in order to be good — some quality mezcals don’t taste particularly smoky.)

Mezcal was once tequila’s wild, unregulated cousin, but these days Mexico has gotten hip to the cultural and economic value of its heritage liquors, and mezcal is now its own denomination, with its own sets of rules, regulations, and certifications. If a bottle is officially designated “mezcal artesanal” and labeled as such, it means that the spirits were made in a specific region by a specific process that may include either pit roasting or the use of masonry ovens.

Varieties of Mezcal

Like tequila, mezcal is sold “fresh” and aged. The current mezcal designations are as follows:

Blanco or Joven — unnaged.

Reposado—rested for a minimum of two months in a wooden container.

Madurado en vidrio — rested in a glass container for a minimum of twelve months. (This has a wonderful mellowing effect.)

Añejo — rested for a minimum of twelve months in a wooden container.

Abocado con — mezcal that directly incorporates additional ingredients for flavor. See fruit, herbs, flowers, honey, vegetables, or insects.

Destilado con — mezcal that’s distilled with additional ingredients, which may range from plums to the famous pechuga, or chicken breast.

Agave must mature for between four and ten years before harvest, which distinguishes agave spirits from all other forms of liquor. More than any other spirit, mezcal is influenced by the plant itself. Thus, mezcal labels often reference the type of maguey used in production. For example, tobala mezcal is made from A. potatorum, a small wild maguey that grows in the extreme highlands. While tobala is sought after, it’s not the holy grail: Tepextate mezcal costs upwards of $200 a bottle because it’s made from a wild agave so rare that a maestro mezcalero might find only five or ten plants in his lifetime.

The politics of mezcal

Mezcal was once the drink of Mexico’s working class, and derided as firewater. These days it’s the hippest thing on the menu from Mexico City to Brooklyn. Unfortunately, the boom in popularity isn’t necessarily helping the rural people who make traditional mezcal.

Many small distilleries don’t have any way to get their product to a bigger market. Big distributors will pay small distilleries a pittance for their quality mezcal, label it, and then sell it for $100 a bottle.

This year, the Mexican government issued a new labeling law: Norma Official Mexicana 177 (NOM 177). Ostensibly mezcal designations allow small producers to differentiate their product from big industrial producers. But the NOM also allows industrial nontraditional producers to label their bottles as mezcal. Mezcal made by old school methods will be labeled “mezcal artesanal” or “mezcal ancestral.” Here’s the breakdown on the new labeling standards:

Mezcal

This broad designation covers “mezcal” produced using the same industrial processes that are used by major tequila manufacturers.

• Agave hearts or juice may be cooked in autoclaves.
• Crushed by basically any method.
• Fermented in wood, concrete, or stainless steel tanks.
• Stainless steel column stills are permitted.

(This doesn’t mean that all mezcals that fall under this label are using totally modern methods. For example, a mezcal may use some traditional methods but fail to meet one requirement for the artesanal label and thus be relegated to the underclass.)

Mezcal Artesanal

• Agave hearts may be roasted in an underground stone oven or above-ground masonry oven.
• Crushed by traditional or industrial methods.
• Fermented in stone, earth, wood, clay, or animal skins. Agave fibers mandatory.
• Distilled with direct fire on a copper alembic or clay pot still. Agave fibers must be included.

Mezcal Ancestral

• Roasted in an underground stone oven.
• Crushed by hand, with a tahona, or with a Chilean or Egyptian mill.
• Fermented in stone, earth, wood, clay, or animal skins. Agave fibers mandatory.
• Distilled by direct fire on a clay pot still. Agave fibers mandatory.

What to drink?

We asked renowned mezcal expert Clayton Szczech of Experience Mezcal to weigh in on a few of our favorite brands. In choosing producers for his tastings, tours, and “mezcal camps,” Szczech considered politics as well as taste. “Right now there’s a real need for people to understand why mezcal costs what it does,” he says. “What I’m trying to do is look at these brands and figure out where more of that money is getting back to the producer.” With that in mind, he came up with four recommendations for delicious mezcal that is produced with respect for the environment and culture of rural Oaxaca.

Tosba

“This is a (rare) producer-owned brand. Mezcalero Edgar González is single-handedly reviving the mezcal tradition in his remote Zapotec village of San Cristobal Lachirioag. He’s produced espadín, tobalá and pechuga from the beginning, and many of his experimental plantings of maguey from other regions are about to mature, and all will be worth seeking out. This is one of the best mescals you will find at such an accessible price point.”

Real Minero

“Real Minero is a family-owned brand of delicious clay-pot distilled mezcal from Santa Catarina Minas. The distillery is run by Graciela Ángeles. She’s a unique combination of traditional (having learned mezcal from her late father) and modern (being a rural sociologist by training) and they maintain one of the most traditional processes of any mezcal you can buy in the US. As demand for wild agave grows, the survival of many species is under threat. Real Minero is doing more than perhaps any other brand to preserve and repopulate over a dozen wild varietals.”

Vago

“I unabashedly recommend this as an awesome artisanal mezcal. Vago was started by Judah Kuper, a gringo surfer who fell in love with and married the daughter of an old-school, traditional mezcalero, Aquilino García, in the remote village of Yegolé. Some Vago expressions are produced by Aquilino, and the even more old-school clay-pot distilled expressions are made in Sola de Vega by “Tío Rey” Rodriguez. Vago’s labels are meticulously detailed, so you always know exactly what you are buying, down to the date it was produced.”

El Jolgorio

“This is a Oaxaca-based brand. They’ve done more than anyone to bring previously unknown magueys to the marketplace. The El Jolgorio line is mostly wild magueys.”

(Still thirsty for more? Consider planning your next trip around mezcal. See Experience Mezcal for details on tours  and camps.)

Looking for a great Cognac for your next event? We have you covered on crafting a tasty Old Fashioned.

The post Mezcal Isn’t Just Cheap Tequila: Here’s What You’re Drinking appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

“In the age of the smart phone, writing is essential to social image, career, and relationships. So you might as well improve your capabilities. Whether you want to write the great American novel, compose a kick-ass cover letter, or just impress on social media, these rules will set you on the path to good writing.”

In the age of the smart phone, writing is essential to social image, career, and relationships. So you might as well improve your capabilities. Whether you want to write the great American novel, compose a kick-ass cover letter, or just impress on social media, these rules will set you on the path to good writing.

1. Before you start writing, pinpoint your primary goal. What is your desired tone? Are you writing to inform, to entertain, to impress? All of the above? Who is your audience? As you write, keep your audience and goal in mind. When you’re finished with a draft, remove  sentences or paragraphs that aren’t congruent with your purpose.
2. Write topic sentences. Does that mandate give you  flashbacks of elementary school? Sorry, but your fifth grade teacher had good reason for belaboring this point. Paragraphs with topic sentences (and coherent supporting details) send a calming message to readers: Yes, this is an organized piece of writing. You want to read it. Carry on.

3. Get specific. A specific noun will transform a sentence. Did you buy her flowers? No, you bought her a bouquet of carnations. Or maybe you brought her an orchid. The sentences convey different impressions—a specific noun or verb can change the significance of an interaction, and add a layer of nuance. Did you see a grove of trees or a grove of spruce? So you ate breakfast? Was it oatmeal or eggs Benedict? Instead of using verbs like “went,” tell us how you got there. Did you drive, peddle, run, or wander? The difference between “went” and “drive” may seem paltry, but the latter offers a picture, a whiff of exhaust.

4. Avoid beginning sentences with “there.” You’ll find exceptions to this rule, but leading with “there” is typically a sign of weak and lazy syntax. There were two plates on the table? The table was set for two. There are three things I’m afraid of? I have three fears.

1. Type cylinder from Munsen typewriter, circa 1890-1912.

1. 5. Use concrete language. In other words, avoid vague phrases. A period of time? How about a week, a month, or a season? The job offers good compensation? The job pays well.
2. 6. Eradicate details that don’t support your point. Sounds like a no-brainer? Maybe, but many a blog post is weighed down by gratuitous rambling. As E.B. White wrote, “The breezy style is often the work of an egocentric, the person who imagines that everything that pops into his head is of general interest and that uninhibited prose creates high spirits and carries the day.” (I’m no doubt a repeat offender.)
3. 7. Replace the word “not” with direct, positive structure. “She was not very happy” is weak phrasing. Replace with “She was miserable” or “She was disconsolate.” Did not like? Detested. Did not remember? Forgot. Not tired? Awake. Not on time? Late. Did not pay much attention to? Ignored. Not important? Trifling.
4. 8. Eliminate empty words and phrases: the fact that, the fact is, the truth is, in terms of, one of the most…
5. 9. Minimize your use of qualifiers. Words like “very” clutter up a sentence. Were you very angry? Why not furious? Are you pretty tired? Why not exhausted? Do you like her very much or do you adore her? Avoid using “some.” She drank some coffee? No. She drank the last of the coffee. She sipped her coffee. She finished her mug of coffee. I have some ideas? No. I have ideas.

   

6. 10. Remember you are not Ernest Hemingway or William Faulkner. Certain writers can get away with leaning into a style. Hemingway is famous for his clipped syntax, while Faulkner was prone to writing page-long sentences, consecutively. These styles worked for Hemingway and Faulkner, but most writing will benefit from mixing it up. Avoid writing a succession of long, loose sentences or a succession of clipped blunt sentences. Instead, establish a rhythm by alternating long and short syntax.
7. 11. Vary your first words or phrases. Avoid writing consecutive sentences that begin with the same word. On a similar note, don’t write consecutive sentences that begin with an introductory clause.
9. 12. Do you want to give your reader the impression that you are a hyperactive child? No? Minimize your use of exclamation points. While we’re on this topic…multiple consecutive exclamation points are not a valid form of punctuation!!!
10. 13. Edit. Unless you are preternaturally talented, good writing is not the result of mystical blasts of inspiration, but of craftsmanship. Good writers sand and polish their work.

The post 13 Simple Steps to Becoming a Better Writer appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

Don’t despair — we’ve got you covered. I’ve driven this highway* hundreds of time and eaten many a mediocre Reuben and uninspired burrito in the quest for greatness. I’m happy to report that my arduous research paid off and I uncovered a few gems.

Best Mexican food on the Oregon coast?

Seaside is more famous for drunk spring-breakers than it is for cuisine, but this local favorite is the real deal. Like most good Mexican joints, The Stand doesn’t go in for fancy ambiance but instead focuses on delicious fucking tacos. Order the carnitas. I thought I’d died and gone to Michoacan.

109 N Holladay Dr, Seaside, OR

Best seafood on the Oregon coast?

That’s a tough one, but my vote would go to Local Ocean in Newport. This bi-level bayside restaurant is a bit swankier than my normal haunt, but damn! The chef sources from the fishing boats in the bay across the street, and you can tell. Although the menu varies from crab po’ boys to mocqueca de piexe (Brazilian stew with coconut milk), the diverse dishes are unified by a fresh delicacy. I particularly enjoyed the barely-grilled albacore tuna kabobs, but everything was good–so good that I’d recommend sharing many small plates in order to sample as much as possible.

213 SE Bay Blvd, Newport, OR

Best Burger on the Oregon Coast?

I am in love with a little restaurant called Homegrown . Everything about this place is good: they use local organic ingredients and quality meat; they pickle in-house; the servers are friendly and funny; the bar consistently offers a fine selection of beer and cider; they have wine on tap; they serve cocktails; it’s owned by a local woman (thereby proving that us small town people can be hip too); and it has an addictive pub plate, with pickled red onions, smoked fish, and chive cream cheese, served with an abundance of fresh bread. I’m sorry, was I talking about burgers? Yeah, the burgers are great. Eat one.

294 Laurel Street, Florence, OR

Best Reuben on the Oregon Coast?

I consider the Reuben to be a kind of deli litmus test. If you can’t make a good Reuben you shouldn’t be serving sandwiches, and if you can make a good Reuben then you earn my undying devotion. Conveniently, one of the state’s best can be found at Homegrown’s extension deli, right next door to the Florence restaurant. The best thing about this sandwich? The bread is appropriately crispy (obviously pressed correctly) and the greasy goodness is cut with tangy red cabbage sauerkraut that’s clearly house-made.

Best Soup on the Oregon Coast?

If you like Homegrown, chances are you’ll also like Siuslaw Riverside, another family-owned Florence establishment with friendly service, a homey ambiance, and tasty soup and sandwiches. The deck-side seating proffers a gorgeous view of the Siuslaw River, and the chef shows real attention to detail–the coleslaw and tomato soup are simply perfect.

1340 Bay Street, Florence, OR

Best Burger in Sonoma County?

The Railroad Station Bar & Grill is so great that I will actually go hungry in order to eat there. (And for me, that’s saying something.) Only 200 miles till Cloverdale, I’ll think as I attempt to sate my appetite with unsatisfying trail mix. So why the suffering? This refreshingly unpretentious bar has superb pub food, a solid beer selection, excellent local wine, brash bartenders, and a roster of salty and gregarious locals. What more could you want? Home cut fries and the region’s greatest burger? Oh yeah, it has that too. Also the salad is fresh with tender greens topped in a tangy house-made vinaigrette — so rare for a bar.

236 S. Cloverdale Blvd, Cloverdale CA

Best food in Eureka, CA?

My hands down favorite is Cafe Nooner, which is also homey and unpretentious with a menu that emphasizes local and organic ingredients. Are we sensing a theme here? The restaurant makes a delicious burger, but you may be tempted by the wide range of Mediterranean and Creole food, including superb, perfectly-spiced kabob plates.

409 Opera Alley, Eureka, CA

Happy eating!

*Due to the enormity of the coastline, here we’ll deal with the stretch of road from northern Oregon to Northern California.

The post Beyond Fish & Chips: Best Food on Highway 101 (Part 1) appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

Food Cooler

Some might say I’m a little obsessed with cooler maintenance. But seriously, I value preserving the integrity of my food and my cold beverages. Have you ever opened a cooler to find your bacon floating in a pool of greasy ice water? To prevent this travesty:

1. Acquire two or three large wide-mouth plastic jars with air-tight lids.
2. Fill the jars 3/4 with water and freeze. These will provide a contained ice situation for the first part of your trip.
3. When the ice melts, you can drink the water or use it for washing, and then refill the containers with party ice or, preferably, small hunks of block ice (see “ice pick” on the packing list). Keep all ice contained, thus preventing the bottom of your cooler from filling with treacherous water.

Another idea: make soup or sauce at home, freeze in screw-top  plastic container (the snap top kind may leak), and pack in your cooler. You’ll conserve ice while freeing up more camping time for lazing around.

Beverage Cooler

Always bring a separate cooler for beverages. This is particularly important if you’re hanging out with beer-drinking buddies who open the cooler every five minutes. If you keep your coolers segregated, you’ll conserve ice and prevent your food from getting rifled. You’ll want to buy ice for your drink cooler from the get-go, but add a couple of frozen water bottles to make it last longer.

Cooler Packing List: 

2 coolers

3 frozen water bottles

2 large plastic jars of frozen water

extra Tupperware for leftovers

ice pick

Permanent Portable Camp Kitchen

Just because you’re camping doesn’t mean you should resort to savagery and subsist exclusively on burnt hot dogs. Camping can be a fun time to do some leisurely cooking. (Tip from a pro: Everyone will be way more impressed with your culinary talents because people have lower standards when camping.) To save the headache of packing, keep a trunk or storage bin packed with a summer camp kitchen, including cooking oil and a box of spices. (You don’t need to spend a ton of money on this–most of these items can be found at yard sales or in your own overstocked home kitchen.)

A note on plates:

I try to be environmentally conscious, but dishes can get out of control if you’re camped in a spot with limited facilities. For larger groups I go with paper boats, which are sturdier, easier to balance, and more versatile than paper plates. You can get a good deal on a huge stack at Cash-and-Carry or another restaurant supply place. Or you can order online (they also have an unbleached version).

Other cool equipment:

1. This koozie is at once functional and pleasingly stealthy.
2. If you’re keeping your eggs in the cooler (a good idea if there’s wild animals around), consider this egg case, which is far superior to a disintegrating egg carton.
3. Luci solar lights are small, lightweight, waterproof, and put out a lot of light. Bonus: save on batteries.
4. I haven’t tried this particular model, but stretchy camp chairs are the best. (The more chairs you have the fewer people will be sitting on your beer cooler.)
5. Kitchen scissors are great if want to avoid dirtying your cutting board.

Ultimate packing list:

barbecue tongs

tinfoil

kitchen scissors

paper towels

heavy-duty Ziploc bags

heavy-duty garbage bags

plastic bin for washing dishes

folding dish rack and/or towel for drying dishes

dish soap

scrubby

2 large frying pans

large cook pot

cutting board

coffee cone

coffee filters

mugs

metal cups

paper boats

Tupperware bowls

extra-large Tupperware for mixing and/or salad

colander

2 decent knives

2 small cutting boards

forks and spoons

2 spatulas

large metal spoon

camp stove

lighter

ice pick

can opener

wine/bottle opener

salt

pepper

spices

cooking oil

drink koozies

pot holder

dish towel

optional (if you’re fancy):

vegetable peeler

cheese grater

kettle

cast iron dutch oven

food tents to keep the flies away

small cooler specifically for drink ice

cocktail shaker

simple syrup

bitters

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In late November of 2009, Capen, 35, decided it was high time he acted on his dream of finding the treasure that’s rumored to be hidden in Arizona’s aptly named Superstition Wilderness Area. He drove south from Denver, planning to spend a month exploring the mountains east of Phoenix. After setting up camp, he climbed to the 4,892-foot pinnacle of Tortilla Mountain and left a note in a metal canister: “Jesse Capen was here. Dec 4, 2009.” It was his last message to the world.

Designated in 1939, the Superstition Wilderness Area now encompasses 160,200 acres of craggy desert. The dry land is crisscrossed with trails, but much of the region is impassible. The rough and steep nature of the terrain allows treasure hunters to dream that the “Dutchman’s” legendary gold is lodged away in some apparently inaccessible crevice–despite the tens of thousands of people who have searched for it.

The legends of treasure are numerous and exceedingly intricate. In one version, the treasure is a cache of gold and silver crosses, candelabras, and chalices that dates back to 1764, when the Spanish crown is expelling the Jesuits from the Americas. Feeling vindictive about getting kicked out of their missions, the Jesuits gather the valuables from  the churches in New Spain’s vast northern territories. Instead of handing these sacred treasures over to the enemy king, they take a mule train to the Superstition Mountains where they hide the loot in a cave near a rock spire.

The next legend is slightly more plausible. In 1840 an aristocratic Mexican family named Peralta develops rich gold mines in the Superstition Mountains. Their activities anger a band of Apaches, who warn the Peraltas to stay out of their sacred lands or face the wrath of the God of Thunder. The Peralta party ignores the Apache threat. The Apaches are pissed and send riders to gather a larger force. When the Peralta party packs up to transport their gold back home to Sonora, the Apache warriors ambush and massacre the Mexicans. The warriors then bury the gold and hide the entrance to the mine. (You can read a detailed version of this legend here.)

Years later, a man called Dr. Thorne supposedly befriends the same Apaches. After he cures a sick chieftain, the tribe rewards him by leading him, blindfolded, to a gold mine. They invite him to take as much gold as he can carry away.

None of these stories have been convincingly verified.

Things get a bit more concrete in 1863 when the famous “Dutchman” enters the story. The man in question was actually a German immigrant named Jacob Waltz, who arrived in the United States around 1839 and was lured west by the California gold rush. He prospected in California but never struck it rich, and headed to Arizona in 1863. He was one of the first pioneer prospectors in Arizona’s Bradshaw Mountains and eventually filed a homestead claim on the banks of the Salt River. Although he farmed the land, he continued hunting for gold in the mountains. He died in Phoenix in 1891, in the care of his friend Julia Thomas, an African American baker.

That’s all verifiable. But from here the story descends into a snarl of speculation. One-hundred-and-thirty years of speculation, in fact. According to most versions of the story, Waltz was a salty white-whiskered codger who would travel into the Superstition Mountains each year and return to town with gold nuggets of unusually high quality. These he would spend on drinking binges.

In one version of the story, Waltz has a prospecting partner named Weisman. Weisman winds up dead and Waltz claims the man was murdered by the ubiquitous Apaches, but locals speculate that Waltz murdered Weisman to protect the secret location of the lost Peralta mine or a hidden cache of Apache gold. Waltz refuses to answer any questions. Many people attempt to tail him into the wilderness, but the wily old bastard evades them all.

Back to the facts: In 1891, Waltz fell ill, likely from pneumonia. On his deathbed, he told Julia Thomas the location of the gold, but his directions were cryptic. Thomas became the first of hundreds of people who would squander their lives hunting for the treasure.

As I mentioned, the story has many versions, and the entire cast of characters is huge — with Waltz’s various friends and neighbors (and their descendants) feuding over maps and clues and the cache of gold that Waltz supposedly stashed under his bed before he died. Then come more recent developments, like the mysterious and probably phony Peralta stone tablets, which supposedly hold the key to the mystery. I’m not qualified to tell that convoluted tale. If you’re interested, you’ll need to look to the folks who’ve devoted lifetimes of study and speculation to the case.

Which brings me to my point. What really interests me is not so much the legend itself — but rather its eternal allure. Three years after bellhop Jesse Capen set out on his treasure hunt, his skeleton was found in a crevice in the Superstition Mountains. But Capen was not the lone victim. Scores of people have died or been murdered while hunting for Waltz’s treasure.

Adolph Ruth is one of the most famous victims. Like Waltz, Ruth was a German immigrant who had gold fever. Unlike Waltz, Ruth was an elderly veterinarian and ill-suited for roughing it. He was 78 when he set off into the mountains with an old map that was purported to show the Peralta mine. In June of 1931, Ruth set up camp in West Boulder Canyon, near Willow Springs. He never returned to civilization. Six months later his skull was discovered in a ravine. Although it seems likely that Ruth died of natural causes, his disappearance spawned the pervasive conspiracy theory that he was murdered for the map. This story was picked up be periodicals and, ironically, helped popularize the legend of the mine.

After that they came in hoards. The obsession with the treasure spawned several formal societies of “Dutch hunters,” including the famous Dons of Arizona, which formed in 1931 and began hosting annual treasure hunts–replete with barbecues and pageants and guests costumed like Spanish aristocrats. Dons of Arizona membership rolls include Barry Goldwater and Harry S. Truman.

But Dutch hunting wasn’t all fun and games. In 1956 a feud erupted between two camps of prospectors who had claims near the stone spire known as Weaver’s Needle. According to Dutchman scholar Tom Kollenborn, the feud began when prospector  Ed Piper arrived on the scene and began squabbling with Celeste Maria Arva Jones, an opera singer from Los Angeles who claimed to have divine visions that had led her on a hunt for the Jesuit treasure. She’d staked her claim six years before Piper’s arrival, had the habit of carrying a sawed-off shotgun, and was not to be trifled with. She allegedly hired a man named Robert St. Marie to settle things with Ed Piper.

Piper instead shot and killed St. Marie, but claimed that St. Marie had attacked him. Piper successfully plead self-defense, and returned to the mountains, where he continued battling with Jones. Eventually the Forest Service got exasperated and kicked everyone out. At that point, Jones disappears from the historical record.

Murders aside, the accidental death toll has been fairly steady since the beginning. Historian Tom Kollenborn estimates that between 50 and 70 people died in the the Superstition Wilderness during the 20th Century. The 21st Century has seen a slight uptick, with an average of about one death a year. Naturally there’s speculation about an ancient Apache curse, but the real cause is probably a tad more mundane. The terrain is notoriously rough and hot. Many of the missing hunters went into the desert alone and under-prepared. A significant number were elderly or out of shape.

Less explicable is the level of obsession. Death seems to feed it. In addition to the legends of treasure, there are now legends and conspiracy theories that spiral from the lives and deaths of countless treasure hunters. One-hundred-and-thirty years after Waltz’s deathbed proclamation, Dutch hunter forums hum with activity. Dutch hunters trade maps and clues. Dutch hunters hold reunions in the Superstition Mountains, where they spin conspiracy theories and argue about the exact dimensions of the floor plan of Julia Thomas’s bakery.

Is greed a factor? Of course. Who hasn’t dreamed of striking it rich? But there’s obviously more to it. The treasure of the Lost Dutchman Mine speaks to the heart that won’t surrender to the mundane. This obsession is so very American: born of a romantic belief in the adventure as redemption, fueled by childhood daydreams that refuse to die, kept alive by the same delusional optimism that spurred westward expansion and forged the country we know today — hidden gold and all.

The post One Great American Mystery: The Tale of the Lost Dutchman Mine appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

If you’re looking for action…You’ll want to consider Sayulita or Vallarta.

Twenty years ago, Sayulita was a sleepy little surf town on the jungled coast of Nayarit. Now it’s one of the most popular destinations in the state, but somehow retains a certain “alternative” credibility. If you’re a hipster who likes to party, this is the place for you. Here you will find your vegan burritos, your yoga classes, your beachside dance parties, your beginner surf lessons. Verdict: my personal hell.

Sprawling along Banderas Bay, Puerto Vallarta is divided into two major areas: Nuevo Vallarta, and the two older neighborhoods, downtown and Viejo Vallarta (old town). Nuevo Vallarta is a hell-zone of high-rise hotels, malls, box stores, and horrifying night clubs. There’s probably some cool places, but I wouldn’t know because I avoid Nuevo Vallarta like the plague. In contrast, the older part of town can be charming if you know where to go. From the beach, the cobblestone streets climb up the jungled mountainsides, and tiled roofs peek through the greenery. If you’re on a budget, check out the hotels on the east side of Old Town. You’ll still be within walking distance of the beach and the famous malecon (boardwalk), but you’ll also enjoy the perks of a real Mexican neighborhood: excellent tacos, carts selling fresh orange juice, and interesting little tiendas. I like Viejo Vallarta because it’s relatively small but offers a gamut of activities: from high-end restaurants to street food, from hole-in-the-wall bars to fancy gay clubs. Verdict: Fun if you don’t mind crowds of tourists. Must see: Wander through Cuale River Island, a forested park between Old Town and downtown.

If you’re looking for a mellow vacation…You’re in luck. The Pacific Coast is dotted with low-key beach towns. For a great road trip, start in San Pancho and drive Highway 200 south to Barra de Navidad.

Just north of Sayulita, San Pancho (officially called San Francisco) is still a sleepy little beach town, albeit one with a decent selection of restaurants and a large population of expats. San Pancho has a gorgeous beach, tasty seafood tacos, interesting shops, and a laid-back attitude. The only real flaw is the huge waves. Swimming here is not for the faint of heart. Verdict: Perfect if you’re looking for a low-key vacation and don’t mind big surf and a scary undertow.  Must see: If you like campy hotels, rent the penthouse suite at Villas Paradise, which is replete with 40-foot ceilings, columns shaped like elephant feet, and amazingly bad art.

Located a couple of hours south of Vallarta, Punta Perula is even sleepier than San Pancho. Here you’ll find a giant perfect beach, thatched seafood restaurants, streetside pozole, classic Mexican hotels, and snowbirds in RVs. Verdict: Ideal if you don’t mind rustic hotels and a limited (but good) range of cuisine.

If Punta Perula is too hoppin’, you’ll want to check out Tenacatita, easily one of the best camping beaches in the world (provided you have a high tolerance for mosquitos and roughing it). Located between Punta Perula and Melaque, Tenacatita is a ten-minute drive from the highway. The beach was once a hot spot for locals, Mexican vacationers, and expat campers.  But in 2010, a developer illegally seized the beach,destroyed the small restaurants and hotels, and blocked public access. The local people fought back and succeeded in getting the beach open to the public. But the battle continues. While the land is in dispute, camping is free, but there’s no facilities. Why go to the hassle? Four gorgeous adjacent beaches, a coral reef, and an amazing mangrove swamp. Verdict: for hardcore campers only. (Although the nearby town of Rebalsito has a couple of small hotels.) Must see: Watch the sunset from the roof of an abandoned hotel; take a boat tour of the mangrove swamp (information available at Chito’s Restaurant, 1 km inland); and visit Restaurante La Mosca at the Boca (ask a local for directions).

If you’re mellow but not THAT mellow…Consider Barra de Navidad or La Manzanilla.

Located just south of Tenacatita, La Manzanilla is small but packed with restaurants, bars, vacation rentals, and Canadians. The beach is nice, the region is beautiful, and the town still retains a Mexican charm. Verdict: An ideal choice if you’re traveling with a group that has a range of needs and interests. Lively enough, but still fairly chill. Must see: Walk the boardwalk through the crocodile-infested swamp.

Twenty minutes south of La Manzanilla, the old pirate port of Barra de Navidad is a fun little town with a handful of bars and a laid-back party atmosphere. Verdict: you had me at pirate port.

If you have kids…Perula is perfect because the beach is reasonably safe and the town is not overwhelming. You might also want to consider Melaque/San Patricio, a classic Mexican coastal town that shares a beach with Barra de Navidad. Melaque has tourist amenities, but retains a distinctly Mexican feel. Be sure to eat in the market. Rincon de Guayabitos has a similar vibe but is located farther north, in Nayarit. Verdict: Both towns are crowded but fun and muy Mexicano. And really, what could be better than that?

The post Exploring the Best Beach Towns on Mexico’s Pacific Coast appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

“It’s probably just a flock of wild turkeys, like that time in California,” I said, taking a swig from the bottle of Siete Leguas and handing it to Rich.

We were scrambling down the side of a volcano in the dark because I’d had a romantic notion that it would be fun to watch the sunset from the rim of the Tequila volcano while drinking tequila.

Inland Jalisco is the epicenter of Mexico’s tequila industry. Agave, or maguey, is everywhere—the spiky blue-green plants cover the rolling hillsides and grow around houses. Some farmers even take advantage of extra space and plant right up to the shoulder of the highway. Every town boasts a distillery or two hundred, and the main streets are lined with folksy liquor stores.

We were three days into an open-ended road trip through the region. Our goal was to get off the beaten path, and enjoy  Jalisco’s famous birria, tacos de barbacoa, volcanoes, lakes, and, of course, tequila. Our first stop was Atotonilco el Alto, just east of Guadalajara on Highway 90. The town was  devoid of tourists and beautiful in a distinctly Mexican way, the market pungent and bustling, the plaza hemmed by colonial buildings painted in saturated colors: sky blue, lime green, burnt orange, violent purple. More beautiful yet was the sight of the giant signs heralding the home of one of my favorite tequilas: the estimable Siete Leguas. I felt like Charlie on his way to the chocolate factory.

Siete Leguas headquarters is not a distillery, but contains a liquor store that reminded me of the duty-free shop at the airport. The woman behind the counter was impeccably made up and seemed confused by our request for a distillery tour. We’d stupidly neglected to make an appointment.

“The tour started at 11,” she said in Spanish. “It’s already over. Just one today.”

My heart sank. We’d driven 3,000 miles to get here, and Siete Leguas had been one of my major goals for our trip to Mexico. We had to be in Guadalajara that evening for a baseball game (Charros de Jalisco v Tomateros de Culiacán), so this had been our only chance to tour the distillery. We were forlornly standing  in the shiny gift shop when an elegant older woman breezed in. She wore her black hair long and loose, and a slouchy black-and-white scarf accented her silk blouse and black capris.

“You’re here for a tour?” she asked, in very good English. I suddenly realized how scruffy we looked, but she gazed upon us with absolute warmth and courtesy.

“Yes. I’m sorry we didn’t make an appointment. Siete Leguas is my favorite tequila.”

“Is it?” she smiled with genuine delight. “I think we can work something out. In fact, I’ll give you a tour myself.” I got the impression that giving tours wasn’t really part of her job description, but she was completely gracious about the interruption.

She led us to a pick-up truck and a mustachioed driver chauffeured us to one of the company’s two distilleries. Due to our negligence with reservations, we were able to see the facility that isn’t a showcase. La Vencedora, our guide explained, is the less-traditional of the two distilleries. At the show distillery, El Centenario, they grind the agave with a traditional stone wheel pulled by mules (a tahona), while La Vencedora uses a roller mill. Tequila from both distilleries is mixed to make the final product.

For a distillery that wasn’t designed as a showcase, La Vencedora was surprisingly old school. We walked into a cavernous building filled with mountains of maguey. Jimadors hacked at the agave hearts with coa de jima (flat-bladed knives attached to wooden poles), and then tossed the piñas into nifty shoots that drop to the room-sized brick ovens, where the agave steams for days.

The overall impression is of a straightforward and meticulous operation. Siete Leguas isn’t cutting any corners. Instead of the speedy stainless steel autoclaves used by bigger distilleries, Siete Leguas slow cooks in brick. We sampled dark pieces of cooked maguey that reminded me of caramelized pumpkin. The distillery also practices open-vat fermentation, which  likely contributes to the flavor of the tequila.

We climbed up metal stairs to check out this step in the process: the fermentation of the baked hearts. Pond-sized vats bubbled with fibrous liquid. With delight, I breathed the sweet, yeasty air. I sniffed the spicy notes of tequila blanco emerging from the tall stills. The entire building was suffused with intoxicating smells.

The copper stills were manned by stern-looking men in work clothes. We watched tequila pour, sparkling, into a metal vat the shape of a giant tea cup. Our gracious guide filled us snifters directly from the spout. The tequila was smooth yet complex, sweet yet spicy, mellow yet vibrant. I must have looked appropriately appreciative, because she looked pleased. “It’s her favorite tequila,” she told the distillers, who actually grinned and seemed genuinely gratified, as though they were surprised to hear that some random gringos would have ever even heard of Siete Leguas.

When we left, our guide casually handed us two bottles of Siete Leguas reposado.

“Two free bottles of some of the world’s finest tequila?” I said in wonderment as we walked back to our dusty Hyundai. “That can’t be typical. Plus, the tour was free.”

“Yeah,” Rich agreed. “I don’t think we’re going to top that.”

Instead of touring more distilleries, we decided to go camping and explore the countryside. We’d do wholesome things like visit ancient ruins, swim at the local water parks, and hike. Which was how we ended up getting lost on the side of a volcano in the dark with a bottle of tequila.

On our first attempt, we’d driven from our camp in Etzatlan to the town of Tequila, which sits at the base of the verdant Tequila volcano. As we drove in circles looking for the road up the mountain, we were hit by a sudden and torrential rainstorm, the kind that turns streets into rushing brown rivers in mere minutes. Visibility was terrible, and we were forced to park the car and wade to refuge: a bar on the Tequila town square, where we drank overpriced palomas and listened to the drunken flirtations of hipster gringos and rich kids from Mexico City.

The following day we toured the ancient Guachimontones ceremonial site, sampled the local pulque, and wandered through a cemetery. In the afternoon, we headed to the volcano. It took us nearly an hour to even find the cobblestone road that ran out of  town and up the side of the  Volcán de Tequila. And then it took us an hour to drive up the  17 kilometer road, which started out bad and got worse gradually, insidiously, until I worried that our axles would snap. We traversed potholes the size of ponds and drove over rubble piles that jacked the passenger side up so far that I worried that we’d flip. But we’d persevered. Because, in addition to have romantic notions, I’m extremely stubborn.

I peered anxiously at the setting sun. “I think we can still make it,” I said. “We’re only a couple of kilometers from the top.” We rounded the corner to face an imposing gate and a number of no trespassing signs.

As we were taking this in, a gang of boys roared down on motorbikes, riding through a narrow gap in the fence. They skidded to a stop and stared at us.

Hmm…A motorcycle gang on the side of a volcano. This was the stuff of B movies. But I tried to keep things nonchalant.

“Hey, is it still possible to get up to the rim of the volcano?” I asked in passable Spanish.

He grinned. “Yeah, don’t pay any attention to the signs. It’s just a little way. You can still go up on foot. It’s not a problem!” He then issued directions in the typically Mexican rapid-fire style, and he and his buddies roared down the mountain.

The sun was sinking low, lighting up lakes like mirrors on the floor of the valley 8,000 feet below. Despite the late hour and my brand-new fashion huaraches, we squeezed past the gate and set off on foot.

“A little way,” turned out to be two or three kilometers straight up. We weren’t even in sight of the top when the sun set, but we paused to stare at the tangerine ball of fire sinking into skeins of clouds over fields so far away that they’d faded to blue. Against the bright sky, the oak and pine trees were sharp black silhouettes. We passed the bottle of Siete Leguas and contemplated the land from whence it came.

We never did see the spine of hardened lava at the center of the volcano. We got lost and we got blisters. When we finally found the car again, it was well into the night. We jolted back down the mountain and drove through the warm Jalisco night. Off the beaten path indeed.

The post Off the Beaten Path: Adventures in Tequila Country appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

Drive. Driving in Mexico terrifies the average gringo, but do you really want to be the average gringo? Once you get over your gut-pounding fear and play chicken with a semi or two, you’ll find that driving in Mexico is actually fun. It’s predictably unpredictable, but the other cars are prepped to that—your average Mexican driver is both more alert and more accommodating than your average American driver. Sure, he may pass on shoulders or blind corners, but he’ll be paying attention when you’ve just passed six cars in a row and are trying to get back into your own lane before you get mowed down by a bus.

Don’t make reservations. Your average Mexican town has more hotels than it knows what to do with. Unless it’s a holiday or Los Tigres del Norte are in town, you don’t need a reservation. Sure, I get it. You’re tired from your flight and you want an immediate shower and a place to ditch your luggage. So book your first night online, but don’t commit. Tomorrow you can explore and find someplace more interesting. Many cheap yet charming hotels don’t even have websites, and there’s always the chance that you’ll meet someone who’ll rent you a room, hut, or beach house for half the price you’d pay on Airbnb. If you give yourself more flexibility, you’ll be better able to take advantage of the many strange and winsome opportunities that make Mexico special.

Take the Libre. Around 25 years ago, Mexico introduced a system of toll highways, much to the delight of foreign travelers and rich Mexicans. These multi-lane highways run parallel to the pitted free roads, and are usually in better condition than an American freeway. The toll road, or cuota, offers a quick and reasonably safe way to get from point A to point B. So what’s the downside? Well, they can be expensive as fuck. And, in true Mexican fashion, the pricing often seems to be completely random. You’ll pay 40 pesos (about 2 USD) at one toll booth and 150 (7.50 USD) at the next. Over the course of an eight-hour drive, you might shell out as much as $75. And perhaps this seems a small price to pay to escape from the death-defying driving on the free roads, or libres. But there’s a hidden tax: missing Mexico. The cuotas bypass cities and towns. Which is great if you’re in a hurry. But if you really want to see and understand the country, driving through random towns is your ticket. Stop at the market and sample the carnitas. Stretch your legs with a walk around the plaza. Drink an ice cold coconut at a roadside stand. Buy a bottle of the local hooch. Or explore anything that strikes your fancy. There’s a reason they call it the libre.

Check out random towns. Puerto Escondido, Puerto Vallarta, Sayulita, Zijuatanejo, Guanajuato, San Miguel de Allende, Aijijic, Playa del Carmen. You’ve probably heard of these places. Why? Because they draw tourists like flies. And sure—they have their charms. But for every Aijijic, there’s a thousand Mexican towns and cities you’ve probably never heard of that are at least as charming. Etzatlan, Uruapan, Hermosillo, Arandas, Punta Perula, Morelia, Colima…The list is long and alluring. Do you like tacos, tortas, old buildings, plazas, questionable cantinas, and friendly people? These towns are calling your name. Just pull out a map, close your eyes, and point.

The post Five Tips for Avoiding the Tourist Trail in Mexico appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

“45.99 gets you two beds, a mini fridge, 23 channels of television and a lot of clowns,” the desk clerk says.

“But not the evil kind of clowns,” the biker adds helpfully.

“Also, you have free access to the attached cemetery,” the clerk adds.

This is why I love Nevada. Like most people, I used to imagine the state as basically Vegas plus big-ass desert. But that was before I exited the interstate and discovered that the back highways of Nevada crisscross through strange little mining towns, eerily beautiful mountains, and glittering deserts dotted with trailer court brothels. In other words: this is excellent road trip territory.

If you loop out of Vegas on 160, you’ll pass through gorgeous Red Rock Canyon National Recreation area, and eventually hook up with Highway 95, which you can take to U.S. Route 50. “The loneliest road in America”  climbs through Nevada’s beautiful forested highlands and past an assortment of odd attractions. This itinerary is just a sampling of what you’ll find if you have the time and inclination to step off the beaten path and into the wilds of Nevada.

Things to check out along the way:

Goldfield, Nevada

In the late 19th Century, Wyatt and Virgil Earp laid down the law in Goldfield, a boom town famous for its rowdy red light district. The many saloons were an asset when the town caught on fire in 1905: as legend has it, firefighters ran out of water but were able to put out the flames with barrels of beer. Though the “Queen of the Mining Camps” is now on the registry of Nevada ghost towns (and a great place to try out a ghost hunting video camera), Goldfield actually has a population of 298 and several interesting establishments, including the supposedly haunted Goldfield Hotel and the Santa Fe Saloon, which advertises “the meanest bartender in the west.”

Tonapah, Nevada

Like nearby Goldfield, Tonapah adopts a regal title: “Queen of the Silver Camps.” The town is livelier than Goldfield and home to the beautifully-restored Mizpah Hotel, which was too pricey for my travel budget. This is how I ended up staying in a Clown-themed motel with an attached cemetery.

Fortunately, I spent my 20s hanging out at a clown bar, which inured me to clown decorations. That said, the biker was lying. The painting above our bed depicts a clown opening a chest that emits glowing light and a host of snarling ghost clowns. But hey, the room is  clean and the attached cemetery turns out to be a real gem. The fenced yard contains 300 graves that date from 1901 to 1911, when the plot was maxed out by the town’s disturbingly high death rate. Most of the tombstones and crosses are marked with cause of death, ranging from “plague” to “mine disaster” to “murdered.”

I’m not one to let my appetite be dampened by the tombs of consumptive children, so after touring the graves we headed up to the Tonopah Brewing Company, an elegant pub with a gorgeous old bar and a stamped tin ceiling. I didn’t really expect either hipster styling or exemplary local beer in middle-of-nowhere Nevada, but we were pleasantly surprised by the beer, which easily competes with the best of the west. Our enjoyment extended to the menu: the barbecue here is legit, with tangy sauces and real southern-style sides.

Hawthorne Ordnance Museum           Hawthorne, Nevada

You could spend a day in the Hawthorne Ordnance Museum. The space isn’t huge, but it’s full of fascinating artifacts, from giant harpoon missiles to a M-47 Patton tank. Glass cases are crammed with World War II uniforms, rations, and the personal ephemera of the people who built and tested weapons at Hawthorne’s giant U.S. Navy Ammunition Depot, which was commissioned in 1930. The staff is friendly and knowledgeable and admission is free (though donations are, of course, appreciated).

The Shoe Tree                                   Highway 50

Thousands of shoes dangle from a massive cottonwood. Located on a barren stretch of highway near Middlegate, the shoe tree is a beloved local landmark. (In 2011, some asshole cut down the original Middlegate Shoe Tree. The local community was so devastated that they held a memorial for the tree and immediately set to decorating a new cottonwood, which is now impressive in its own right.)

Austin, Nevada

Tiny Austin Nevada is home to a castle and three dive bars. If you’re not intrigued, then you should ignore all my recommendations because we’re obviously not at all on the same page. The first order of business: the castle. Located just west of town, Stokes castle is a three-story stone tower built in 1897 by the mine developer and railroad magnate Anson Phelps Stokes, who modeled it on a tower he saw in Italy. After checking out the Roman-style tower, continue your historic journey to The Owl Club, which looks like your grandmother’s living room, if your grandmother’s living room happened to be a very old dive bar. If you’re nice, one of the regulars might fire up the ancient jukebox, which plays 45s from the ’30s and ’40s. Just down the street is The Pub, also a quality establishment, and inexplicably owned by the same grandmother.

The Rest of the Trip

After Austin, there are several potential routes for looping back to Vegas. I haven’t made this leg of the journey yet, but I trust you’ll find a few interesting things along the way. After all, a good road trip always includes uncharted territory…

The post Forget About Vegas: Plan a Killer Nevada Road Trip appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

Everyday Drinking

by Kingsley Amis, 2008

Let’s start with a classic. If a dry gin martini were given human form, it might write like Sir Kingsley Amis. The famously acerbic British novelist is best known for Lucky Jim, his hilarious send-up of academia, but he also wrote prolifically (and emphatically) on the subject of booze. This 2008 edition of Everyday Drinking: The Distilled Kingsley Amis actually contains three booze-related books that Amis wrote between 1971 and 1984. In this day of fennel-infused martinis and barrel-aged cocktails, Amis’s old school stance is like a blast of fresh air.

Contains useful drink recipes and advice on building a good liquor cabinet and bar.

Sample text: Evelyn Waugh’s Noonday Reviver: Put the gin and Guinness into a pint silver tankard and fill to the brim with ginger beer. I cannot vouch for the authenticity of the attribution, which I heard in talk, but the mixture will certainly revive you, or something. I should think two doses is the limit.

Imbibe! From Absinthe Cocktail to Whiskey Smash, a Salute in Stories and Drinks to Professor Jerry Thomas, Pioneer of the American Bar  

by David Wondrich, 2007

Today’s cocktail world can be stiflingly pretentious, and David Wondrich is partly to blame. His drinks columns for Esquire and The Daily Beast did much to revive the art of “mixology.” That said, it’s hard to be mad at the guy when you’re drinking a delicious classic cocktail or reading one of his excellent books on the subject. Imbibe! is stuffed to the brim with interesting tidbits, characters, and digressions on 19th century bartenders and ingredients. Better yet, Wondrich is a former professor and a real scholar, and can be trusted to back up his assertions with scrupulous research.

Contains useful and esoteric drink recipes and sound advice on building a good liquor cabinet and bar.

Sample  text: Everything new always turfs up a few people who liked the old way better. So no one should be surprised that when the plain Cocktail began gathering unto its bosom troubling dashes of curacoa and absinthe and truly alarming dashes of vermouth, fruit juice, and orgeat syrup, there were those who cried bloody murder. 

The Drunken Botanist: The Plants That Create the World’s Great Drinks

by Amy Stewart, 2013

A fascinating breakdown of the building blocks of booze, from the basics (potato, apple, rye, sugarcane) to the esoteric (angelica, gentian, quandong, parsnip). The book is organized by plant and contains a nice mix of history, geography, biology, and practical advice.

Includes cocktail recipes and recipes for ingredients such as homemade grenadine and nocino.

Sample text: Spruce beer was well known to Jane Austen, who wrote to her sister Cassandra in 1809 about brewing a “great cask” of it.

The Life and Times of the Late Demon Rum

by J.C. Furnas, 1965

A brilliant and largely forgotten cultural historian, J.C. Furnas breathes life into the zealous “drys” who formed anti-saloon leagues to fight the “wets” for the preservation of American morals. This history of the Temperance Movement is full of snide comments and funny asides, and Furnas sheds a keen light on the origins of America’s weird attitudes toward alcohol.

Does not contain drink recipes, but does contain an impressive selection of awful Temperance poetry.

Sample text: Prohibition was certainly a ravaging ailment, however, and among the scars and bodily impairments it left were things even worse than the perpetuation of a newly powerful underworld. Thirty years after repeal most of us seventy million Americans who “drink” retain from the excesses of Temperance doctrine what was recently described at an interdisciplinary scientific meeting as “ a sort of societal guilt feeling about alcohol.”

Boozehound: On the Trail of the Rare, the Obscure, and the Overrated in Spirits

 by Jason Wilson, 2010

From the author of the spirits column for The Washington Post, Boozehound is one part memoir, one part recipes, and one part informative treatise on everything from amaro to Zirbenz. Wilson is a snappy writer, and his foray into arcane booze is funny and refreshingly unpretentious. His stories of early drinking binges and recent visits to notable distilleries blend seamlessly with his knowledgeable digressions on bitters, stingers, and the qualities of a perfect Manhattan.

Contains original drink recipes and sound advice on building a good liquor cabinet and bar.

Sample text: We can pretty much blame the vodka martini on Ian Fleming, who introduced it in the first James Bond novel, Casino Royale — along with the ridiculous concept of shaking and not stirring a martini.

The post Booze Through the Ages: An Essential Reading List appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

The Ocean Grove Lodge, Trinidad, 480 Patricks Point Drive, Trinidad, California 95570

Tucked away just off Highway 101, this place is about as NorCal as you can get. The back deck looks out over a Redwood grove, and the dingy décor is representative of the region’s distinct mash-up of hippie and redneck. A surfboard is propped behind a wood stove, and a few dusty Jamaican flags hang on the wall next to a poster that makes the chilling announcement that Dancehall Monday is coming up. Meanwhile, the regular looks like an extra from the Dukes of Hazard and the bar sells t-shirts that say: Trinidad: A Drinking Village with a Fishing Problem. Bonus: if you get too ensconced, you can always stay at the attached hotel.

The Brass Rail, Redway, 3188 Redwood Drive, Redway, CA 95560

The Brass Rail was originally a bordello, a legend that’s supported by the decor: a grand old bar backed with red flocked wallpaper. Because the area attracts migratory workers who come to process or “trim” weed, the clientele tends to be a mix of camo-wearing locals and “trimmigants” from Germany, Australia, and Portland.

The Blue Room, Garberville, 747 Redwood Drive, Garberville, CA 95542  

Garberville is the classic weed boomtown, and the main drag is choked with growers in muddy pick-up trucks, trimmers in vans, and hapless hitchhikers begging for dog food, beer money, and “kind nugs.” The Blue Room offers a welcome retreat, a dim oasis with stiff drinks and taxidermy.

Everett’s Club, Arcata, 784 9th Street, Arcata, CA 95521 

Everett’s is surprisingly clean for a dive bar, but has the rest of its credentials in order, including a veritable herd of elk and deer heads, an old school jukebox with a crappy selection of CDs, and a truly impressive collection of commemorative ceramic whisky decanters. Lest you forget where you are, the front door affords a view of the Arcata town square, which will no doubt be populated by dready trimmers in yoga pants.

Pat’s, Guerneville, 16236 Main Street, Guerneville, CA 95446

Guerneville is an up-and-coming vacation spot, but Pat’s hearkens to the town’s trashier roots. The decor is a mix of weird paintings and beer paraphernalia, the bartenders are entertaining, the drinks are extremely stiff, and the CD jukebox has a good selection of classic bar tunes. As if this wasn’t enough, the attached cafe serves Korean fried chicken that’s addictive like crack. (The restaurant is only open till 2 p.m. and closed Monday and Tuesday.)

The Casino Bar and Grill, Bodega, 17000 Bodega Highway, Bodega, California 94922

Located in the remote town of Bodega (home of the church from The Birds), The Casino is the kind of spacious old-style roadhouse that makes you feel like you’re stepping into the wild west. A pool table, an old-fashioned jukebox, and tasty rotating dinner specials make this 135-year-old establishment a local favorite and well worth a foray off the beaten path.

Turtle Rock, Napa, 2000 Capell Valley Rd Napa, CA 94558

Here we move from weed country to wine country. If well-heeled wine snobs dining on overpriced farm-to-table appetizers make you crave a light beer and a greasy egg roll, Turtle Rock is just the place. A rural roadhouse located near Lake Berryessa, the dollar bill-spangled bar doubles as a store that sells beer and bait. When we arrived at noon for egg rolls and bloody marys, a drunk regular insisted on buying a round of tequila shots for our group of five. It’s that kind of place.

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Arcade Tavern, 135 Alabama Street Bandon, OR 97411

The Arcade Tavern has a lot of windows and is scrupulously clean, which could almost disqualify it from dive bar status. Luckily, it’s cash only, video poker dominates, the bar sells home-canned tuna, and Jameson is by far the fanciest liquor available. At 11 AM on a Monday, the tavern has already attracted a healthy selection of locals in waders, who are shooting pool, playing video poker, and gossiping over beer. The menu is limited to standard burgers, dogs, and grilled cheese, and they don’t have a fryer. Fortunately, outside food is welcome.

Jerry’s Place Bar & Grill, 8274 Rhododendron Drive Florence OR, 97439

Again with the windows and the cleanliness, but Jerry’s makes up for it with personality. At 3 PM on a Monday, the out-of-the-way watering hole is full of regulars. The woman on the bar stool next to us knocks back a shot of Sauza, tells me that tequila reminds her of the desert and The Eagles, and then proceeds to belt out “Peaceful Easy Feeling.” Luckily, she’s got a decent voice. Meanwhile an older gentleman arrives, carrying his pool cue in a special case; his enormous handlebar mustache is dyed red-white-and blue. Everyone knows each other, and the wood-paneled room is cozy as a coastal storm rattles the windows.

Beachcombers Pub, 1355 Bay Stree Florence, OR 97439

Beachcombers has an excellent selection of beer, sells growlers to go, and serves decent food, but still hasn’t lost its divey ambiance, including weird murals, plenty of beer paraphernalia, plus a random and entertaining mix of locals, retirees, tourists, and bikers.

The Bridge Tender, 554 Broadway Street, Seaside, OR 97138

Located on Seaside’s touristy main drag, The Bridge Tender is a welcome refuge from chowder houses, salt water taffy shops, and vacationing families in matching Von Dutch gear. With a view of the river and an old school jukebox, this bar is the kind of place that gives me a wild urge to consume a large quantity of whisky and make friends with the old guy at the bar. At 3 PM on a Sunday, a mustachioed Sam Elliot lookalike is waltzing with a Stevie Nicks lookalike to the tune of Roy Orbison. Good times.

The Salty Dawg Bar & Grill, 375 NE Port Street Waldport, OR 97394

A beloved local watering hole, The Salty Dog is tucked away down by the Waldport docks. The attached restaurant serves greasy yet tasty food. Consider the biscuits and gravy or the fish and chips as you admire the bar’s notable tables, which have amazing treasures shellacked into the tops: geodes, glitter, sea stars, and bottle caps. Each tabletop has a theme. My personal favorite is decorated with Redrum bottles.

The Barge Inn,  358 SW Bay Blvd., Newport, OR 97365

The pub opens at 7 AM to accommodate fishermen and there’s a sign above the door that reads “Home of Winos, Dingbats, and Riff-Raff.” That should tell you everything you need to know about the place.

The post Dive Bar Checklist: Best of the Oregon Coast appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

Even posh neighborhoods bristle with food stalls, taquerias, and hole-in-the-wall eateries that offer up the city’s most famous delicacies  for cheap. But the sheer diversity and abundance can be intimidating if you don’t know your comedor from your cubana. And so, a primer…

“When choosing a food cart, don’t go by spiffiness or proximity to running water so much as the appearance of the food and the appearance of the people running it. If either looks shady, walk half a block down to the next sizzling opportunity”

Rule of thumb #1: Signage and spiffy uniforms don’t mean a more reputable establishment. The world’s best taco is probably advertised by a hand-written cardboard sign. Follow your nose.

Rule of thumb #2: Unless you’re going full-on fine dining, avoid formal “restaurantes.” You’ll get better food for cheaper at diners, food stalls, and lunch counters.

Venues for Cheap Food

Comedors and loncherías: Serving traditional food to working class stiffs, these one-room diners abound in old-school or low rent neighborhoods. Typically, a comedor offers a comida corrida, or daily special, and a few additional items, such as chilaquiles, huevos rancheros, or pozole. Virtually indistinguishable, loncherías specialize in  breakfast and lunch. Proprietors may hang a crude menu on the wall, but the best strategy is to ask what there is: “Que hay?” If the kitchen is actually stocked to make everything on the menu, they’ll point it out to you; if not, they’ll tell you what they really have on hand. The comida corrida is a good way to go. For around $3 US, you’ll get a main dish (usually stewed meat or a chile relleno) served with beans, rice, and tortillas.

Try: These eateries are not destination establishments—just convenient, cheap, and authentic. To eat like a local, choose a comedor near your accommodations. You’ll know it’s the real deal when you spot cardboard signage, a framed religious icon, and a few well-fed regulars.

Taquerias: Mexico City is the Valhalla of taquerias. The city is famous for tacos al pastor, a recipe adapted from Lebanese immigrants. Thin-sliced pork is impaled on an upright spit and slow-roasted in chiles and achiote, then served on small tortillas with cilantro and shaved pineapple. The best taquerias tend to be small, dingy, and crowded.

Try: Unnamed taqueria at # 83 Calle Isabel la Catolica, in the Centro Historico.

Torterias: Because the city attracts immigrants from every state in Mexico, you’ll find sandwich shops featuring the country’s many regional torta variations, from the tortas ahogadas (drowned sandwiches) of Jalisco to the capital’s decadent torta cubana, which overflows with ham, roasted pork, pickles, and—sometimes—a hot dog, just for good measure.

Try: La Torta Brava, # 60 Calle Cinco de Mayo, Centro Historico.

Market fondas: Mexico City is home to hundreds of markets: from permanent mercados in buildings the size of airplane hangars to open-air tianguis (like flea markets) that pop up on certain days of the week. Some, like the Mercado San Juan, specialize in food. But even a market specializing in baby Jesus figurines (yes, this really exists) will have a few food booths. The selection and prices at a market fonda will be similar to a comedor, but each booth is likely to have a specialty: the best pozole, greasy parcels of carnitas, or famous chiles rellenos served in a simmering orange sauce.

Try: Mercado Merced’s Taqueria La Pasadita, just west of the Merced metro stop.

Food carts: Apart from the obvious tacos, you can find fresh-squeezed orange juice, spiced nuts, homemade candy, tortas, churros, and cups of fresh fruit drizzled in lime juice.

Try: Use your intuition. When choosing a food cart, I tend not to go by spiffiness or proximity to running water so much as the appearance of the food and the appearance of the people running it. Does the food look/smell bad? Do the people look shady? I rarely run into either situation in Mexico, and when I do, I walk the other way, half a block down, to the next sizzling opportunity.

The post Eating on the Cheap in Mexico City appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

“Mexico is a cosmopolitan country. Forget piña coladas and Cancun’s Senor Frog t-shirts. Envision eating at a decadent restaurant and shopping for fine leather shoes in Mexico City.”

Rule #1 Stop ordering margaritas

Mexicans, as a general rule, don’t drink margaritas. Perhaps this is because Mexican margaritas tend to be slushy sugar bombs. If you want to impress a local lady or bartender, order your tequila straight. And, of course, eschew Patron for something more interesting. Repeat after me: Un trago de Siete Leguas por favor. Your tequila will appear in a shot glass, but don’t feel pressured to shoot it. It’s perfectly acceptable to sip and savor. If straight liquor’s not your thing, drink like a local by ordering a Paloma, or tequila and grapefruit soda with a salted rim.

Rule #2 Leave the beach

We all need our fix of hammock time, but consider planning an inland vacation. Mexico is a cosmopolitan country and home to a handful of the world’s greatest cities, including Guadalajara, Oaxaca, and, that shining jewel–Mexico City. Instead of guzzling piña coladas and shopping for Senor Frog t-shirts in Cancun, eat at one of the world’s best restaurants and shop for fine leather shoes in Mexico City.

Rule #3 Talk to the locals

A true gentleman understands the art of conversation, and is willing to make the slight effort to extend that art across the language barrier. Take the time to learn the Spanish phrases you need to politely engage. Often a few phrases are enough to get the conversational ball rolling—in cities and tourist areas, most locals speak some English. Your respect and interest will be rewarded with local intel and, often, good company. After all, you won’t find the best restaurants, bars, or music by hanging out with other tourists.

“A few phrases are enough to get the ball rolling. Take the time to learn the Spanish phrases you need to politely engage. You won’t find the best restaurants, bars, or music by hanging out with other tourists.”

Rule #4 Ditch your flip-flops

Speaking of which, if you want to set yourself apart from the tourist herd (thereby improving your chances of getting the benefit of the doubt from interesting locals), pack some good clothes. If the heat mandates shorts, fine. If you must. But pack nice threads too. Show the residents some respect by dressing as good, or better, than you would in your home territory.

Rule #5 Stay awhile

Think slow travel. A month of in Mexico will give you the opportunity to polish your language skills, find the coolest haunts, and forge lasting relationships. Sadly, we don’t all have that luxury. But you can make the most of a short vacation by spending it all in one place and refusing to over-schedule your activities. Enjoy a daily routine, get to know a neighborhood. Rich in strange detail, Mexico is best savored at a leisurely pace, as befits a gentleman.

The post Ditch the Flip-Flops: A Gentleman’s Guide to Mexico appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

“Right now, there’s a dizzying profusion of classic styles on the market, which range from undrinkable swill to perfect expressions of ale and lager. Of course, there are plenty of exotic beers, made with rare infusions, unusual aging, or wild yeasts. Many of these experiments are god-awful.”

So maybe we won’t have a ton of free time, but dammit we’ll be making that time count! And since every summer should involve adventure, why not set some drinking goals? Step away from your old standbys and hunt down 15 of America’s best summer beer options.

When it comes to beer, we’re living in America’s golden age. And a walk down the beer aisle has gotten a lot more complicated. First we encounter the dizzying profusion of classic styles, ranging from undrinkable swill to perfect expressions of ale and lager. Then we have the exotics, made with rare infusions, unusual aging, or wild yeasts. Many of these experiments are god-awful, but some should be part of your regular refrigerator rotation.

To save you from shelling out $12 for a six pack you’ll want to pawn off on your less-discerning guests, I’ve hunkered down to some serious research, sampling many an unpalatable experiment in search for truly divine summer beer. You’re welcome.

Cold Press Black, Bent Paddle, Duluth, MN — 6% ABV

Ever tried to decide if it’s beer o’clock, or time for another cup of coffee? You can thank Bent Paddle Brewing for the perfect solution. Cold Press Black is a diabolical mix of smooth black ale and cold pressed coffee, and the result is subtly delicious and invigorating. Like Four Loko for grown-ups.

RPM IPA, Boneyard, Bend, OR — 6.5% ABV

Bend is a hotspot in a state famous for beer. In such a beer-centric region, it takes a lot to stand out, but Boneyard is ahead of the pack. Brewed with six varieties of Northwestern hops, this well-rounded IPA sets the standard for summer beer.

Organic IPA, Eel River, Fortuna, CA —  7.2% ABV

Want to feel virtuous while you get your buzz on? Done. Brewed by America’s first certified organic brewery, Eel River IPA’s environmental pedigree is as sterling as its flavor. A solid English-style IPA for everyday drinking.

Blushing Monk, Founders, Grand Rapids, MI — 9.2% ABV

So you don’t go in for fruity beers? We made that claim as well until we tried Blushing Monk, brewed with Belgian yeast and raspberries.  Amazingly, the intense raspberry flavor is neither cloying nor overly sweet, but instead has a sparkling bite.

Bourbon County Stout, Goose Island, Chicago, IL — 14.2% ABV

Luxurious and thick, this imperial stout is aged to perfection in bourbon barrels. Be warned: the notes of cherry and vanilla may make you forget the brew’s killer ABV.

Light Me-Up Lager, Hop Valley, Eugene, OR — ABV 4%

Many artisan brewers can’t seem to resist the temptation to fancy up their lagers, but the masters at Hop Valley know restraint. Light Me-Up is the ideal summer brew: refreshing, but not sweet.

Blonde Ale, Hop Valley, Eugene, OR — ABV 5%

Looking for a light beer of substance? This easygoing blonde ale has body yet finishes crisp. Perfect for the moment when you’re burnt out on lager but it’s too hot to switch to IPA. This balanced brew is perfection in a can.

Park Sesh Lager, Stanley Park, Vancouver – ABV 5%

For a truly easy-drinking and crisp summer beer, you could do much worse than this delicious Park Sesh lager from Stanley Park. This 5%-er is perfect for those lazy days in the park when you just want to unwind and relax, and it’s a great all-round beer for parties and other events too.

Double Day Tripper, Indeed, Minneapolis, MN — ABV 8%

With a hoppy nose and a honeyed orange-peel aftertaste, this macho pale ale packs a punch. One of those rare beers that catches and then keeps your attention, growing more complex as you drink.

Cask-Conditioned Imperial IPA, Maritime, Seattle, WA — ABV 7.5%

You’ll have to make a pilgrimage to Maritime’s Seattle taproom to taste this brew, but it’s well worth the trip. Pumped straight from the wooden cask and served at room temperature, this beer retains the flavor of an IPA, but goes down smooth like a Northwestern pale ale. While you’re there, order a round of the best onion rings on earth.

Wild Peach, New Glarus, New Glarus, WI — ABV 7.5%

Another challenge to our prejudice against fruity beer. Tart and complex with a bittersweet finish, this American take on lambic is brewed with wild Michigan peaches and aged in oak. One of the best beers ever.

Maiden the Shade, Ninkasi,  Eugene, OR — ABV 6%

Ninkasi put Eugene, Oregon, on the beer-lover’s map, and this seasonal summer brew epitomizes the brewer’s aggressive yet nuanced style. Milder than your average Northwestern IPA, with a bright, hoppy finish that tells you all is right in the world.

Scrimshaw, North Coast, Fort Bragg, CA — ABV 4.7

Crisp with a dry finish, Scrimshaw offers a refreshing contrast to your average overly-sweet pilsner. Recommended for day drinking.

Damnation 23, Russian River Brewing, Santa Rosa, CA — 10.75% ABV

For the serious beer snob, drinking has become akin to bird watching or record collecting: the rarer the quarry, the greater the thrill. Russian River Brewing has long been famed for producing some of the world’s most sought-after beers, and Damnation 23 is no exception. Although we certainly recommend their most famous brews, Pliny the Elder and Pliny the Younger, this tripel is the better summer beer: full-bodied yet easy-to-drink, with hints of oak, pear, and cherry. You’ll probably have to go to Santa Rosa to get your paws on one, but what is summer without a road trip?

Three Floyds, Behemoth, Munster, IN — 10.5% ABV

The lurid label promises something “not normal” and delivers. A good barleywine for beginners to the category, Behemoth is big and bold, with a fruity finish.

Toppling Goliath, SOSUS, Decorah, IA — 8.0% ABV

A light malt base allows the hop profile to shine on this summer beer. Surprisingly fruity for a Double IPA, SOSUS goes down easy, like a velvet hammer. You have been warned.

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