Gotta Catch ‘Em All!

Today was the day. In the course of my many, undistinguished years, I’ve visited 49 out of the 50 states in this country. I’m not sure why this is important to me, but it’s been a goal of mine for awhile. I’ve even developed a set of rules for counting the states–for example, simply changing planes at an airport does count. Neither does just passing through on an interstate. For a state to count, I need to place my feet on its soil, have a meal at a local (non-chain) restaurant, and learn something I didn’t know about the state. Even with that fairly low bar, I’ve been unable to claim that I’ve visited all 50 states.

Until today.

Now, I’m sure much of this is due to serendipity, but I was struck by the contrast of yesterday’s stormy, soggy drive through Georgia, and today’s sunny, warm drive through Florida. What’s more, just a couple of minutes after I crossed the state line I was literally greeted by a smiling Floridian offering me a cup of Florida’s Natural Orange Juice (TM).

I drove around the Jacksonville area for an hour or so, admiring the palm trees and the sandy beaches. As I said, the weather was pleasant and sunny, so I just kind of basked in the respite from winter.

All that was left was to have a meal at a local eatery. The breakfast I’d eaten didn’t count, because it was in Georgia. That place, by the way, was perplexing. Remember that Monty Python skit where Eric Idle goes to a travel agency and the receptionist asks if he wants to go upstairs? If not, here’s the clip:

Anyway, I was thinking of Eric Idle’s experience when I walked into The Facility Coffee.The person at the counter looked at me and asked “are you shooting today?,” and when I looked puzzled she hastily added “Oh, or are you here for coffee?” It was at that moment I noticed the various firearms accessories for sale, as well as the fully-equipped firing range in the back. I’m not making this up.

You might think it’s an odd business model, to combine a coffee shop and a firing range. If so, the T-shirts they had for sale probably wouldn’t appeal to you

So when I asked for a bagel to go with my coffee, the young woman pointed to literally two lonely bagels in the case–one plain and one everything. That was it. Surely the coffee shop side of this business was a front.

Anyway, that was all in Georgia. For me to be able to check off my last state I still had to eat at a local restaurant in Florida. So I stopped at the Flying Fish Taproom in Jacksonville (pop: 955,000) and ordered a burger. That task has now been completed, and I’m now able to declare that I’ve visited all 50 states. Finally I can die happy.

Brew of the Day

While at the Flying Fish Taproom I enjoyed a goblet of the Buckle Up Buckaroo Barleywine (which is, of course, not a wine but a beer). It’s clocks in with an ABV of 10.5 percent.

The Buckle Up Buckaroo has a beautiful golden honey color and a thin, foamy head. There’s almost no nose to speak of, save a very slight hint of cloves and maybe some cardamom. Overall, it appears pretty innocuous just sitting there on the table.

Things get more interesting when you take a sip. The taste has something of a Belgian vibe. It’s not sweet exactly, but it kind of brushes up against the sweet receptors on your tongue, similar to when you lick the blood from a cut finger. What, you don’t find that to be an enjoyable taste?

This barleywine imparts a distinct flavor of dates, figs, and maybe a little bit of Ocean Spray Craisin. Underlying that is an earthiness that evokes spoiled milk and apple cider vinegar. This drink is light on the hops but not on the carbonation, so you get a tingle without the bitterness. The overall experience is a taste that’s not immediately gratifying, but which you nevertheless find yourself wanting more of. This is perhaps a cautionary tale in itself.

But let’s talk about the alcohol. For your average beer, 10.5 percent is a lot. But not for a barleywine, which can get as high as 13 percent. (The very term “barleywine” was invented to describe high-alcohol beers. I’d always understood this was because, in some jurisdictions and at some point in history, beers above a threshold ABV were not permitted to be called beer. Readers able to confirm or reject this theory should please comment below!) All that said, this 10-oz goblet knocked me for a loop. By the time I took the final sip I was hugging a lamp post and singing Auld Lang Syne.

Now, the point of the alcohol in a beer is not just to give you a buzz. It also influences the taste and body and mouthfeel. I’d also argue that a higher-alcohol beer imparts a certain warmth, which is welcome on a winter day. It’s not for nothing that St. Bernards carried brandy to rescue snowbound travelers.

But my point is that I was unprepared for the buzz this tiny glass produced. And I’m writing this under the influence. So I’m awarding this barleywine six stars out of five.