The "K" to Become "KC" - Barnes and Sanders Team Up!

The announcement of Kay Barnes as the choice to head up a Jackson County Charter Review Task Force didn't attract much notice, but it could be the most significant event for Kansas City political insiders since Tom Pendergast started selling concrete.

A task force to review the Jackson County Charter sounds like an innocuous, perhaps even dull, assignment for a woman who once spent her days being chauffeured to ribbon-cuttings at taxpayer-financed boondoggles that profited her closest friends. Term limits forced her out of that cushy gig, much to the disappointment of her entourage of developers and real estate lawyers. A subsequent attempt to take her game to the next level by seeking access to the even larger federal dollar pot resulted in a bruising defeat and a nightmarish couple years spent north of the river, miles from the Country Club Plaza.

"Kay and I met one day when she accidentally visited Independence, thinking she would find the headquarters of The Independent, Kansas City's Journal of Society," Jackson County Executive Mike Sanders recounted.

"I saw my opportunity to solve some of the County's real estate problems - namely, the fact that the City has begun to realize that they have no obligation to donate $2,000,000 to the stadiums. Kay has demonstrated a real knack for sticking Kansas City taxpayers with outrageous financial obligations, and that is exactly what I wanted to accomplish."

While the Jackson County Charter Review Commission has yet to hold its first meeting, big changes are already afoot. Barnes is taking a fresh approach to the task, using the opportunity to use the County's governing document to alter some fundamental relationships.

Kay Barnes beamed with excitement as she announced the most visible change. "From now on, the 'K' will be called the 'KC'!," she proclaimed from behind a humongous flower.

While many in the audience assumed that the name was being changed to reflect a more active role for Kansas City, her posse of developers and real estate lawyers were quick to correct the mistake.

"'Kauffman Stadium' will now officially be called 'Kauffman-Cordish' Stadium, and the stadium complex will henceforth be part of the Power and Light District," former City Manager Wayne Cauthen announced. "I had never actually read the contracts between the City and Cordish, but it turns out that instead of promising free parking, like Kay and I told people it did, it actually gave Cordish the rights to use taxpayer funds to directly take over local businesses instead of slowly driving them out of business. Who knew?"

Of course, once Cordish takes over the site, Kansas City taxpayers will be on the hook for all the risk but none of the profit. "That's the way it works," former Mayor Barnes explained. "We're already paying $12 million this year for P&L, up from $4 million last year. What's another few million dollars? The snow on the streets will be melted by the time baseball season starts."

The deal will have a major impact on the management of the Royals baseball team, as well. CEO David Glass made the announcement that Steve Glorioso, longtime aide to Kay Barnes, will be joining Royals management as Revenge Coach.

"For years we've focused on Offense and Defense, but it hasn't worked out very well for us. When we saw how Mr. Glorioso handled the defeat of his chosen candidates in the Mayoral and Congressional elections, we realized we were missing out on an important facet of the complete game. From now on, whenever a team defeats us, we will focus on attacking them, their families, and their supporters. We will contact other teams in the league to badmouth the victors, and then we will badmouth those teams when it suits us." Glorioso chimed in, "Do you know what kind of cars opposing players drive? Do you know that some of them talk to their wives about the games??"

When asked why they were hiring Mr. Glorioso instead of someone with a better track record of success, Mr. Glass explained, "Jeff Roe was already talking to the Yankees, and Steve pointed to his experience."

Critics pointed to a looming problem with the concept of Cordish ownership of the the stadium. A reporter from a small newspaper raised the question - "What will those money-loving #### do when black athletes show up in athletic apparel?"

Cordish was not yet prepared to respond to the issue. "We're at least two task forces and a committee away from figuring out what to do with the dress code issue," Mayor Funkhouser replied. "Until we get it resolved, we will expect all athletes to play in proper 'club' attire."

As the press conference came to a close, Anne McGregor showed up in the parking lot with a few paid petitioners in an attempt to "Recall the Umpire". Upon hearing that there was no legal basis to recall the umpire, she explained that the umpire is the least popular person on the field, and that she felt compelled to try to score a few political points off the opportunity. "Even when - I mean if - I fail again to get the right number of legitimate signatures, I can get some publicity for my effort. Oh, and I'm supposed to say 'Stop the nonsense' - my sponsors pay me money every time I say that!"

In a final note, Cordish announced that the Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame will be broadening its scope. "When we came to Kansas City, the first thing we did was bring in Minneapolis barbecue to replace Lil' Jake's. We want to bring a certain bland homogeneity to all cities, and we see no reason that the Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame should feature Kansas City Royals. We'll be replacing the George Brett statue with a Kirby Puckett statue on opening day," a nameless company spokesperson recited. "The Johnson Countians we're hoping to attract probably won't notice the difference."

Kevin Collison's Tiny Rolodex

This morning's paper brings yet another example of how the Kansas City Star's journalistic lapses have degraded this city's schools, public safety and tax base. This time, it's Kevin Collison who fails to ask questions and present facts to help our city assess a humongous investment of borrowed money. By failing to seek input from the people truly concerned with the real cost of development, Collison neglects to present a complete story.

Page 3 of the Business Section features Collison at his worst, complete with sloppy, lazy reporting and misleading graphics. In an advocacy piece masquerading as journalism, Collison presents the bracingly silly argument that because hotel occupancy is suffering in Kansas City, we need to increase our supply of hotel rooms. In the paper, the headline reads "KC Hotels Seek an Awakening", with the slanted subtitle "Supporters of a proposed downtown convention hotel say it would help increase demand." Uh-huh.

Collison makes quite clear he is one of the aforementioned supporters. In the paper edition of his story, he provides a graphic employing the age-old trick of "truncated scales". Collison adapts Darrell Huff's advice in How to Lie with Statistics (a wonderful book everyone should read): "Chop off the bottom. Of course the eye doesn't 'understand' what isn't there, and a small rise [can] become, visually, a big one." In this case, of course it is a big decline that Collison is trying to exaggerate, so his scare graph shows "KC occupancy rates, 1989-2009" plummeting to near the "rock bottom" of 50% - the drop looks a lot more precipitous when it drops to the bottom instead of hovers above the 50% line.

Collison's graphical tomfoolery is just the most visible bias, though. He quotes Bill George extensively and unquestioningly, despite Mr. George's surprising statement that "We don't believe there will be a problem with the financial success of a new hotel, and we're also looking at what it would do to boost the occupancy of other hotels." This financial cockiness contrasts with the one representative of the hotel industry Collison quotes, who tells us that more than a quarter billion dollars worth of Kansas City hotels are already in financial distress, and that banks have run Kansas City hotels for several years. When our City Council is toying with the idea of tossing tax dollars into a failing business model, it would be reassuring to see some follow-up questions from a reporter.

One explanation of the apparent contrast between Mr. George and the person actually in the hotel industry is not found anywhere in Collison's article. Mr. George made his money in the cab and shuttle business, dropping people off at the doors of the hotels. He also has served multiple times as chair of the Kansas City Convention and Visitors Association. That's not in any way a criticism of Mr. George - he has a legitimate interest in doing whatever it takes to increase the number of conventioneers. He's doing his job.

Unfortunately, Kevin Collison is not doing his job. Where is a quotation from the manager of the Marriott - does he or she buy into the argument that the correct solution to low demand is to increase supply? What about the Hyatt or Westin?

Most damningly, where is the input from the people whose money they are proposing to spend on this project? The decision on whether to divert city assets to a fat-cat hotel is not merely a squabble between current hotel owners and people who want to drive more taxis.

We're talking about tax money here. These people want our dollars. They're not fools - they're not going to gamble their own fortunes on the claim that you should build more supply when the buyers stop buying.

They want to take more of the money that should have gone to clear streets this winter. They want to take money that might allow a few of the schools to remain open. This is not free money that they want to spend.

Why didn't Kevin Collison put in a quotation from a student whose school is being closed? Why didn't he ask a grieving family on the East side about the relative importance of hotels and public safety? Maybe those people aren't "important" enough to wind up in a business reporter's call list - okay, then why didn't he call Crosby Kemper, the head of the Kansas City Library? If we're only going to hear from people who might be found at the River Club, could we at least get a word in from someone who cares about the impact on the taxpayer, when he's writing about spending tax dollars??

Sunday Poetry: There once was a man from Nantucket . . ., by the Editors of the Princeton Tiger

Limerick

There once was a man from Nantucket,
Who kept all of his cash in a bucket,
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man,
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.

- by the Princeton Tiger (1924)
___________________________________

It's the week of St. Patrick's Day, and it's as good a time as any to talk about Limericks. Often bawdy, and usually humorous, limericks are an example of a poetic form working with humor to make something memorable. The example above is a classic, printed in 1924 by the Princeton Tiger and drawing responses from other newspapers. The creative tension of the above poem comes from a rhyme which does not get stated - the reader waits for another "ucket" rhyme that never comes.

Often, the unmentionable does, in fact, get stated, and that is part of the fun. Clean limericks appear in childrens' books and bawdy ones draw a laugh in raucous bars.

I won't go into a lengthy recitation of the history of the lyric, except to observe that Edward Lear's reputation far outstrips his talent (he often repeats the first rhyme), and that St. Patrick's week is a fine occasion to try writing a few of your own.

Real Ragu Sauce Doesn't Come in Jars

It's ironic that if you mention ragu to most Americans, they think of the epitome of convenience - jarred spaghetti sauce. If you mention it to someone who has tasted the real thing, though, it conjures almost the opposite mental image - meat cooked for hours in sauteed vegetables and sauce until it falls apart into shreds, creating a luscious, rich sauce with incredible meatiness.

On Sunday, I prepared this masterpiece for friends with a couple culinary quirks. One does not eat ground meats, and one is allergic to onions. The proscription on ground beef was not a problem for ragu - only bastardized short-cut recipes employ ground beef, but the absence of onions called for a bit of adaptation. I increased the celery and garlic substantially - I would have happily substituted shallots, but I wasn't sure if the onion allergy would extend to shallots. I'll do a lot to increase depth of flavor, but putting a friend into anaphylactic shock seems extreme.

To make my version, I started with 4 pounds of boneless beef chuck short ribs. These have become my go-to meat for stews, chilis, and other recipes where "stew meat" might otherwise be called for. The meat is marbled, tender, tasty and easily available at Costco.

Most recipes call for the meat to be browned in oil, but I'm a Kansas Citian, and I love my grill, so I browned the meat close to charring and made the neighbors drool. I figure that by dripping the fat through the grill, I may be avoiding a little bit of fat in the sauce, and it adds a better flavor than I can ever achieve by browning in a saute pan. That's just Kansas City Culinary Improv - if you prefer to brown the meat on a stove top, then do so.

After the meat was seared on the grill, I roughly chopped a few carrots and 6 stalks of celery, and minced around 12 cloves of garlic. That went into a big pot with some olive oil, and I sauteed them until they started to soften up. While that was going on, I added the meat after cutting it into chunks, and I added a few sprigs of fresh rosemary and a similar amount of fresh thyme. I rummaged through our dry spice jars and tossed other things in - I think some bay leaves, oregano, sage and basil made their way to the pan, along with salt and a generous grinding of pepper.

Let me tell you, meat, garlic, celery and herbs sauteing in olive oil makes wonderful kitchen perfume.

After the vegetables had started to soften, I added a bottle of red wine. Not great red wine, but not "cooking wine", either. I used a cab/merlot blend, but a great dry Italian red would have been more authentic. I simmered that for about an hour, then added two 28 ounce cans of crushed Italian tomatoes, covered it, and put it in an oven at 275 for most of the afternoon.

Most recipes call for shredding the meat with a fork after letting it cool. My sauce was thick enough that I just went after it with a potato masher.

I wound up using the sauce in a rich lasagna, but it tastes great over plain pasta, too. It freezes well, which makes future meals almost as convenient as its jarred namesake.

Beer Scores - No Hardware, but Good Feedback

On Saturday, I picked up my score sheets from the KC Biermeisters 27th Annual Homebrew Competition. I already knew I hadn't won any awards, so I picked them up with some trepidation, mixed with eagerness to get some expert feedback on my beer.

Fortunately, the scoring was not as brutal as I had feared. I submitted 5 beers - 2 I knew were bad, but wanted some feedback on how to improve them, one that was pretty good but around a year and a half old, so well past its prime, and 2 I was happy with. I was surprised that my beers all wound up in the "very good" category, with 2 scoring 30, one 31, one 32, and one 34.

One of the 30s was one that I anticipated would score badly. It was a weizen that I thought had too much tartness and no head retention, and I'm not sure why. The judges, KC Wort Hog among them, picked up on the fact that I overhopped this one a bit, and focused their suggestions on that point. The feedback was good, and the Wort Hog suggested a potential cause of my dissipating foam.

The other 30 was my robust porter, which I knew was past its prime. The judges picked up on some phenols, and a bit of sourness. The feedback encouraged me to brew this one again - it really is a good beer when it's fresh.

My Dark American Lager was one of the beers I expected to score badly, but it got a 31 (including a 34 from a Nationally ranked judge). A dark American lager is a tough beer to brew well - it should have relatively little flavor, like a Michelob Dark, which means that off-tastes stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. I made the beer for the challenge, and the judges seemed to enjoy it, with the only criticism being that it tasted a little too good; there was a bit too much malt and flavor for the style. Fair enough - I was glad to get the feedback without any glaring complaints about my brewing technique.

I love my schwarzbier, which scored a 32. Most of the judges' criticisms focused on the fact it was overcarbonated - I've not yet mastered the science of filling bottles from kegs and preserving the proper level of carbonation. Again, I got helpful feedback from two nationally-ranked judges, which is pretty awesome. I've brewed another schwarzbier since I made the one I submitted, and I totally changed the recipe. I'd love to see how the two score side by side.

Finally, my milk stout scored a 34, which is a pretty respectable score. Unfortunately, there were LOTS of stouts entered into the competition, so I knew I was unlikely to bring home a medal unless my beer was darned near perfect. Again, it was overcarbonated. The judges picked up a lot of chocolate flavor; one suggested that perhaps I had added cocoa to my beer. I hadn't, but I agree that the chocolate flavor developed from the interplay of the roasted malts was strong. It's a likable beer, and I'm glad the judges enjoyed it.

I'm really happy I entered my beers into the contest. Sure, I want to win some more recognition, but I'd rather get the feedback to make better beer. I really appreciate the attention and comments from some top-notch judges - next year, I'll be bringing home some medals.

Sunday Poetry: Morning, Thinking of Empire, by Raymond Carver

Morning, Thinking of Empire

We press our lips to the enameled rim of the cups
and know this grease that floats
over the coffee will one day stop our hearts.
Eyes and fingers drop onto silverware
that is not silverware. Outside the window, waves
beat against the chipped walls of the old city.
Your hands rise from the rough tablecloth
as if to prophesy. Your lips tremble ...
I want to say to hell with the future.
Our future lies deep in the afternoon.
It is a narrow street with a cart and driver,
a driver who looks at us and hesitates,
then shakes his head. Meanwhile,
I coolly crack the egg of a fine Leghorn chicken.
Your eyes film. You turn from me and look across
the rooftops at the sea. Even the flies are still.
I crack the other egg.
Surely we have diminished one another.

- by Raymond Carver
___________________________________________

This poem goes against most of what I like about poetry, but, still, I love its audacity. There is no rhyme and no meter - the poem is carried by the narrative of what he is saying, not how he is saying it.

The final line is a Carver classic - a dramatic opposition to the "You complete me" version of love that Hollywood sells us. The opposition is set up in the third line - hearts are something that clog with grease, not beat in burning unison.

One poetic tradition that is upheld in this poem is allusion. Carver's short poem refers to several other famous poems dealing with the topic of love. My favorite poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", shows up in the hands and prophecy. "Dover Beach" is conjured by the beating waves. I'm sure there are more references rushing past, over my head.

What empire is Carver thinking of in the title? Is it whichever empire produced the old city with narrow streets? Is it the metaphorical empire of love poetry? Or is it simply a contrast to the diminished couple eating breakfast?

Balls

The home-court advantage in college basketball is astounding. While most sports show a tendency for the home team to do better than the traveling team, the world of college basketball provides an extreme example, where even the best teams may lose to mediocre teams on the road, and any road victory is to be celebrated.

Could the reason be that the home team gets to choose the balls, which can vary significantly in size, weight, and feel? And they don't even have to give the visiting team warm up balls similar to the game ball?

Zach Hillesland of the New York Times provides a bit of background.

Shockingly, the reason we don't see college teams playing with the same ball in all locations has to do with corporate interests and money. Shocking, I say.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog - Iniquity, by Southern Tier

Foam, color and flavor are what make Iniquity stand out in the over-crowded field of Imperial IPAs. It's a wildly impressive beer, cleverly brewed to assert true individuality by focusing on aspects that other brewers have overlooked.

Imperial IPAs (or double IPAs) are an American innovation created by the extreme school of brewing. If hops are good, let's add more! If higher strength is good, let's make it stronger! More, more, more. I don't want to imply that the many great imperial IPAs on our shelves aren't well-crafted, nor do I want to deny that the best ones demonstrate a sneaky balance, but I will say that Imperial India Pale Ale is not a variety typified by nuance or subtlety. Make a strong pale ale, toss in hops until your arms are sore, and you have a pretty typical Imperial IPA.

When you open a bottle of Iniquity, you get the whiff of hop aroma that comes with most well-brewed Imperial IPAs. American hops tend to have a citrusy and piney arome, and that's what you get here, with a bit of chocolate in the background.

When you pour the beer, though, Iniquity asserts its individuality in two ways. First, it's very dark brown, instead of the more typical amber of an IPA. It looks like a porter, but smells like an IPA.

And the head is like tan whipped cream. Most IPAs have the malt and hops to sustain a great head of foam, but this one would not fade away as most of them do. Iniquity will give you a beer mustache, and it's one you'll want to lick off instead of wipe off.

Let's take a second to think about beer foam. For most of us, it seems almost irrelevant to the beer-drinking experience. Some foam assures us our beer is not flat, but too much foam robs our glass of the beer itself. As long as it's there but not too thick, nobody really cares about the foam.

But there's a lot more to learn about foam. Foam controls the release of aromatics that get caught up in those tiny bubbles, so a good, long lasting head actually increases the flavor you'll be getting from each sip. Foam also is an indication of the richness of the beer - a thin beer without much protein or hops will tend to have a foam that bounds up and quickly dissipates, like the foam on a soft drink. A good stand of foam is a promise and a benefit for most beers. Would Guinness be Guinness without that rich, creamy head?

One way of telling that you've got well-made beer foam is watching what happens on the side of the glass. A great glass of beer will show rings on the side from the levels of each drink. Between the rings, a "Belgian lace" will look like spiderwebs between the levels.

Iniquity's foam was fantastic. Because the dark beer contrasts so well with the light-tan head, the foam puts on a show that might not be as noticeable in a lighter-colored beer.

And the color is another trick that the brewers play on you. It is simply impossible to drink this beer and not taste some of the characteristics of a stout. Coffee, chocolate, caramel, roastiness, maybe even some dark fruits might come to mind. Except, the more I drank the beer and concentrated, the less I tasted those things. A touch of those flavors remained, but it was subtle.

I believe that the brewers at Southern Tier made me taste their beer with my eyes. When I looked at this dark brown beer, I tasted dark brown beer, even though my palate wasn't really getting very much of it. The next time I buy a bottle of this, I'm going to do a blind taste test, and further explore the disconnect. Again, the dark notes are there, but there's much less to that picture than meets the eye.

Finally, the flavor. You really taste the hops, but you aren't assaulted by their bitterness. Iniquity has the hop flavor and aroma of a beer that would curl your hair with bitterness, but the bite just doesn't show up. Instead, you have a pleasant, citrusy flavor balanced with a malt profile that is solid but not filling. The label tells us that they use chinook and cascade hops in the boil, willamette in a hopback (kind of a hop chamber that the beer runs through between the boiling kettle and the fermentation vessel) and cascade and centennial for dry hops (hops added to the fermentation vessel after most of the fermenting is complete). The hopback and dry hops are where all that hop flavor comes from - because those hops are not boiled, their finer aromatics aren't driven off, and the bitter oils don't get a chance to get isomerized (dissolved) into the beer.

Iniquity is an easy-drinking 9% beer, which may explain the name. I bought a 22 ounce bottle of it at Lucas Liquors months ago - I'll be keeping my eyes out for more.

Free Beer AND Free Chocolates?!

Some bloggers get all the love - Drunk Monkey pens a favorable review of his free Boulevard Dark Truth Stout, acknowledging he got the beer and a box of Christopher Elbow Chocolates from the Brewery.

My agent is in negotiations with the Brewery, and it looks like we'll have to go into arbitration. So far, all they're offering is an out-of-date aluminum bottle of their wheat beer, and a fun-size bag of Skittles left over from Halloween.

Drunk Monkey does convince me, however, that the beer is good enough to buy.

Meeting Candidates - Why Does it Matter?

Political season is upon us, with sequential waves of candidates descending upon us seeking votes for school board elections, followed by County primaries, followed by County generals and Congressional elections, followed by City elections. And, if you take the slightest interest in voting, you will be bombarded with opportunities to "meet and greet" candidates.

It's a strange phenomenon, really.

From a politician's perspective, shaking a voter's hand is THE most effective way of securing a vote. No mailer, no phone call, no 20 page position paper will be as effective for that voter as a firm handshake, a look in the eye, and a couple meaningless words. "I'm Joe Blow, I'm running for ________, and I'd appreciate your vote on August 3," is all it takes.

We voters are star-struck with shocking ease. That's the only explanation that accounts for the incredible success that hand-to-hand political conquest offers.

We voters are fools. We believe, like the Worst President Ever, that we can look into someone's eyes and get a sense of their souls. Spending 30 seconds with a candidate makes most voters think that they've taken the measure of the candidate, and gives them confidence that the candidate is worthy of their trust.

It's not even limited to the charismatic candidates. I'm not immune, and I've seen the phenomenon happen with some of the least charismatic candidates imaginable. Somewhere I have a picture of my son and me beaming with Governor Bob Holden - Holden may or may not have been a good Governor, but he certainly was not a splash of transformative inspiration.

It's the celebrity, I suppose. Meeting someone whose name is in the news gives us a touch of importance otherwise lacking in our daily world. The fact that someone you've heard of is sticking his or her hand out meet you is flattering, and, as much as we want to believe otherwise, most of us vote with our emotions more than our brains. Researching policy positions and comparing them to our own half-formed beliefs is nothing compared to having a politician look us straight in the eye and treat us, for a few seconds, as if we matter, as if we are worthy of respect and attention from someone "more important" than ourselves.

It's not entirely a bad thing. The importance of meeting candidates does force politicians to expose themselves to malcontents and germs, which at least assures us of politicians with a good immune system and some awareness of mental health issues. And, as voters, we are offered the opportunity to weed out a few whose arrogance, general creepiness, or other personality flaws outshine their star power. We may not be able to get a sense of someone's soul, but we can occasionally recognize a total loser.

So, it's meet and greet season, and I'll be out there meeting and greeting. I'll even host a few candidates I feel strongly about, through deeper conversations and more thorough vetting. That's how the political process works, particularly at the local level. It's the best we have, particularly in the absence of an impartial local press that can adequately cover local issues and candidates.

Seek out the candidates. Ask a few questions. See how quickly and intelligently they respond to difficult questons. Shake their hands. But remember to pay more attention to positions and interests than a good grip.

Beer, Olympics, Harper and Obama

It turns out that Obama and Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper had more than national pride riding on yesterday's excellent Olympic Gold Medal hockey game. If the United States had won, Harper would have owed Obama a case of Yuengling beer. As it turns out, Obama owes Harper a case of Molson.

Molson? Yuengling?

Neither is what any beer snob would describe as the best offering of their respective countries. And, while Yuengling carries a certain cache because of the brewery's age and restricted distribution, Molson is as common as tap water in Canada, and is a subsidiary of the multinational Molson Coors.

Did Obama really yearn for a case of Yuengling? Did Harper feel extra passion about the game because of his chances at a case of Molson?

But, while I quibble about the choices, Obama does deserve some credit for relying on beer in matters of peripheral national urgency, as he did with the multi-branded "Beer Summit" after a Harvard professor had a run-in with a police officer.

Not every beer needs to be a great beer, and beer snobbery is less important than simple enjoyment. I hope Harper gets his case of beer, and enjoys it with some friends. I hope Obama goes ahead and gets himself some Yuengling, if that's what he's got a hankering for.

(Yesterday's hockey game was a really great game. Checking on both sides of the ice, hustling after every puck, a last-minute tie and overtime. Plus, as much as I wanted the US to win, in my heart of hearts, I don't begrudge Canada a victory in hockey.)

Sunday Poetry: September, The First Day Of School, by Howard Nemerov

September, The First Day Of School
I
My child and I hold hands on the way to school,
And when I leave him at the first-grade door
He cries a little but is brave; he does
Let go. My selfish tears remind me how
I cried before that door a life ago.
I may have had a hard time letting go.

Each fall the children must endure together
What every child also endures alone:
Learning the alphabet, the integers,
Three dozen bits and pieces of a stuff
So arbitrary, so peremptory,
That worlds invisible and visible

Bow down before it, as in Joseph's dream
The sheaves bowed down and then the stars bowed down
Before the dreaming of a little boy.
That dream got him such hatred of his brothers
As cost the greater part of life to mend,
And yet great kindness came of it in the end.

II
A school is where they grind the grain of thought,
And grind the children who must mind the thought.
It may be those two grindings are but one,
As from the alphabet come Shakespeare's Plays,
As from the integers comes Euler's Law,
As from the whole, inseparably, the lives,

The shrunken lives that have not been set free
By law or by poetic phantasy.
But may they be. My child has disappeared
Behind the schoolroom door. And should I live
To see his coming forth, a life away,
I know my hope, but do not know its form

Nor hope to know it. May the fathers he finds
Among his teachers have a care of him
More than his father could. How that will look
I do not know, I do not need to know.
Even our tears belong to ritual.
But may great kindness come of it in the end.

- by Howard Nemerov
___________________________________________

This is one of those frustrating poems to write about, where I cannot force myself to focus on the meter or the poetic technique, because I'm closest to the subject. Forgive me for a moment, then, while I focus on the thought instead of the poem.

Nemerov captures so much of what my parenting experience has been in this poem. You are given this little bundle to take care of - immobile to the point you can lay it on a pad on the table while you drink a cup of coffee and read the paper, dependent to the point that it would starve if you didn't feed it, and ignorant to the point that the pet dog has a vastly superior vocabulary.

Then everything changes.

I'm particularly wowed by the final two lines. "Even our tears belong to ritual." It is a ritual, isn't it, that we wind up taking our children to schools - society demands that we act out this strange act, leaving our children to others to teach? (Homeschoolers aside.) We do this to our children, as our parents did it to us, and it is a truly horrid ripping, no matter how we prepare ourselves and how convinced we are that we have the best school and the most excited child. It is a societal ritual, where all parents symbolically surrender their children to society, and all children accept that they will need to face the challenges of institutions without the protective gaze of their parents. All lives are changed on the threshold of schools.

And the final line is not a prediction; it is a plaintive prayer. "But may great kindness come of it in the end." Nemerov was a teacher - a professor at Washington University, a few miles from my childhood home. He knew education and academia, and he does not offer an unconvincing declaration like "This is for the best", or "Education will expand their worlds", or even "They'll increase their earning power if they make the right choices". He doesn't even attempt prosaic persuasion - instead, he joins those of us who have abandoned our children to society in a prayer that some greater kindness, some happier outcome, will follow from the tears of division on the schoolhouse steps.

Doppelbock Tasting at Gomer's

If you haven't signed up for Gomer's email lists, you really should. Last night, Gomer's hosted a free tasting of 7 doppelbocks, served with cheese and wonderful herb-encrusted salami, and presented with a brief but informative lecture about the history, composition and stylistic expectations of the style.

I've written about doppelbocks several times before (1, 2, 3, 4). Doppelbocks were invented by monks who wanted to pack as much nutrition and richness as possible into a liquid form, for those long days of Lent when they were required to fast by eschewing food. A loaf of bread in a bottle, doppelbocks are big, rich, warming beers, perfect for sipping on one of these February nights when it feels like winter will never loosen its grip.

The beers presented were Spaten Optimator (noticeable alcoholic warming, chocolate nuance, surprisingly dry), Ayinger Celebrator (some higher alcohols, classic of the style), Tucher Bajuvator (spicy background hops and some fruity esters), Weihenstephaner Korbinian (earthy, rich, smoky - named after St. Corbinian, the Irish monk who founded the monastery which became the brewery), Bell's Consecrator (classical, with a nice clean finish), Tommyknocker Butthead (too sweet and estery), and Sam Adams Double Bock (classical, with rich dark fruit notes).

Alert and informed fans of doppelbock will notice a glaring omission from the above list. Alas, Paulaner Salvator, the original of the style - the beer that the Pope approved for Lenten drinking because it had spoiled on the journey to Rome and seemed properly penitential - was unavailable from the distributor.

Each of the samples was pre-poured in ~1 ounce samples in small wine glasses. While it would have been slightly better to have the beers freshly poured, so that more of the volatile aromas would have been present at tasting time, the size of the crowd (~40) would have made that a challenge without a bevy of staff.

Gomer's South deserves a lot of credit for the effort they have been putting in to hosting regular beer events. Next week, there will be a free tasting of the amazing beers from Founder's Brewery, and last week O'Fallon was featured.

Sheriff Evicts Insiders - The First Victory in the Cleansing of Jackson County Legislature

First, big kudos to Sheriff Mike Sharp, who has taken a stand against the literal insiders who have used courthouse access to unfairly gain early access to getting their name first on the ballots. In prior years, incumbents would use their courthouse passes to get in and file for themselves and friends while the hopes for reform sat outside in the cold.

Finally, Mike Sharp has put an end to that odious and unfair practice. Using his role as chief of security for the courthouse, he decided to take names at the courthouse door starting at 5:00 yesterday.

I had written about the unfairness of the prior system before, when Theresa Garza Ruiz proposed a simple and fair fix to the insider game. Greg Grounds joined her in seeking to eliminate cronyism.

Heny Rizzo voted for special insider privileges.

Dan Tarwater voted for special insider privileges.

James Tindall voted for special insider privileges.

Scott Burnett voted for special insider privileges.

Dennis Waits voted for special insider privileges.

Fred Arbanas voted for special insider privileges.

Bob Spence voted for special insider privileges.

Not surprisingly, even under the new system, Henry Rizzo managed to find a way to use his position to engage in petty cheating. He loathes Theresa Garza Ruiz because she has consistently sought to bring openness and reform to the Jackson County legislature. With that in mind, he let Ruiz's opponent cut in line to get his name on the ballot before her.

Can you believe that? Most people grow out of that kind of behavior in 1st grade, but Henry Rizzo and his friend apparently did not.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog - Stevens Point Burly Brown

Brown ales are an under-appreciated class of beers. They don't get attention because they don't push the extremes. They aren't as hoppy as India Pale Ales, they aren't as dark as porters or stouts, and they aren't as malty as the higher scotch ales. When well-crafted, though, they find that sweet spot, that balance, that makes them truly special.

Stevens Point Burly Brown is, unfortunately, not one of the greats. Pouring a dark copper, the brilliantly clear beer comes in at the light end of the color guidelines for a proper American Brown. The aroma, though, is superb - malty with just a tingle of hops, and a bit of chocolate.

The flavor is surprisingly soft, though. The scent's promise of a rich, malty beer is not fully delivered by the beer itself. Instead, you get a light-bodied, rather bland caramel taste, without the roasty or chocolate notes that add some backbone to a well-made brown ale.

The hops of a typical American brown ale were absent along with the darker malts. While a brown ale should never by dominated by hops, a great one will demonstrate the brewer's ability to use hop bitterness to balance the malt, and hop flavor to add piquant zestiness to the malt. Point's Burly Brown just doesn't go there - a restrained hand with the hops manages to avoid cloying sweetness, but fails to deliver any excitement.

It's not a bad beer at all. I might like it more if it were labeled as an amber ale - it's really a lighter beer in color, taste and body than I expect from a well-made brown. There are certainly better brown ales out there; try Abita Turbo Dog or Moose Drool.

The Star Gives Republican Ryan Silvey A Free Pass to Lie

Jason Noble of the Kansas City Star proved today that he is a stenographer, not a journalist.

Back in the day, journalists had a higher duty than simply copying down whatever lies a favored politician offered up. Instead, they would ask follow-up questions to expose the lie, or even put a sentence in their article explaining that what the politician said was false.

But, at the Kansas City Star, if the lie you are spouting is an attack on our Mayor, you face no such hostility or defense of the truth.

Today, Republican Ryan Silvey pulled a shallow publicity stunt, threatening to harm Kansas City because he wants our city to take tax dollars from basic services and donate it to the County for the stadiums. So far, so good - I understand that Ryan Silvey is part of a minority of people who think that we should not fully fund our police department but we should fully fund stadiums for suburbanites. We disagree, but he's entitled to his own positions.

Ryan Silvey is not entitled to make up his own facts, though. In defending his publicity stunt, Silvey claimed, "Pulling the money breaches the city's contract with the Chiefs and Royals . . .".

Folks, that's a lie. A big, fat whopper of a lie that no serious observer of the stadium drama could fail to recognize. There is no contract between the city and the teams.

Did Jason Noble challenge the falsehood? Did Jason Noble point out in his article that there is no contract between the city and the teams? Did Jason Noble ask a follow-up question to clarify the point?

No.

(Update: A commenter below points out that the Kansas City Business Journal has the journalistic integrity and tenacity to look at the contracts and acknowledge that there is no legal agreement binding the city to any payment.)

Why Should Domestic = Cheap? A Call for Legislation

What is a "domestic" beer?

According to most restaurants and bars, a domestic beer is an American style light lager produced at a factory miles away by a foreign corporation.

On the flip side, a beer brewed within walking distance at a brewery built by people who live in our community - that's not domestic.

It's all about money, of course, with a dash of history tossed in.

First, the history. When I was a teenager and disco was alive, the beer world could be divided into two types - cheap, bland, flavor-stripped lagers brewed here in the United States, and expensive, strange beers brewed in foreign countries, ranging from Moosehead to Guinness. Back then, good beers pretty much all came from other countries, and America pretty much only produced Bud, Miller, Schlitz, Coors, Pabst and a few others of the same ilk. (It's true that there were a few good beers made in America at the time, like Anchor Steam and a few other rarities, but they were very few, and not common enough to add any exoticism to the word "domestic".)

So, if you wanted a domestic beer, you wanted something cheap and cold. If you wanted something else, you wanted an expensive import (which weren't always better, by the way, but that's another story). This is the era that gave rise to the splendor that was "Import Night" at various bars. Now, times have changed.

Let's talk about the money now. American craft brewers are making most of the best beers in the world. Because of the scale and ingredients, these beers are more expensive than the factory beers, and the prices are all over the board. A bottle of beer from the Midwest can easily cost more than a bottle of beer from Munich or Newcastle.

So, now, when a bar or restaurant wants to tell you that they'll sell you a cheap beer really, really cheap, they'll post a sign that says "Domestic draws, $1" or "$4 Pitchers, All domestics". "Domestic" is shorthand for Bud, Miller or Coors, even though they're brewed by foreign corporations. If you want to get a Boulevard Pale Ale, or a Goose Island Honker's Ale, or a Magic Hat #9, you're going to pay a lot more than the "domestic" price.

At first blush, this doesn't seem to be a big problem. I'm happy to pay the going rate for good beer, and I don't expect a bar to sell expensive beer to me at a loss. And I certainly don't begrudge anyone a plastic cup of "domestic" if that's what they want.

But I don't want it called "domestic" any more. It's inaccurate, it's insulting to real American brewers, and it siphons money to foreign corporations. SABMiller and AB-InBev are NOT domestic corporations. There are thousands of true "domestics" crafting great beer, and the American beer scene deserves to be recognized as a point of national pride. When you claim that Miller Lite and Budweiser are the "domestics", you are saying that Boulevard and Schlafly are somehow less American. It's just not right.

Here's what I suggest: Pass a state law that any retailer advertising special pricing for "domestic" beers be required to sell any and all American-produced beers that it carries at the advertised price. My intent is not to harm bars and restaurants; I only want them to start using truth in advertising. If they want to advertise "$1 Bud draws" or "$4 Miller pitchers", that's fine.

But they ought to catch up with the times. "Domestic" beers are no longer limited to corporate factory brewers. America is now a great brewing nation, and our retailers should not advertise that Budweiser is the pinnacle of American brewing.

(Hat tip to John over at the KC Beer Blog for sparking this rant with a comment to this post.)

Reinheitsgebot - Purity at the Expense of Innovation

If you hang around beer geeks enough, you may hear the term "Reinheitsgebot", pronounced rine-HITES-geh-boat. Some will speak of it with reverence, as the first attempt to define and insist upon beer quality, while others will speak of it with eye-rolling contempt, as the enemy of innovation. Both are partially correct.

The Reinheitsgebot was decreed by Duke Wilhelm IV in Bavaria in 1516. While the complete translation shows that the Reinheitsgebot was focused more on taxes than on beer, the portion most cited by brewers stated, "Furthermore, we wish to emphasize that in future in all cities, markets and in the country, the only ingredients used for the brewing of beer must be Barley, Hops and Water." No wheat, no cherries, no rice, no pumpkin, not even any yeast. Yeast which is the agent responsible for changing malty-sweet water into beer was not even identified until the Louis Pasteur fired up his microscope in the 1800s. In 1516, brewers typically used some of the prior batch as a "starter", much like sourdough bakers continue to do.

Despite the Germanic reputation for strict compliance with rules, the Reinheitsgebot was always more of a guideline than a rule. Bavaria has long been the home of astounding wheat beers, for example, and Duke Wilhelm IV was not going to deny himself and his friends a frothy mug of hefeweizen brewed with wheat. Instead, in a classic case of "It's Okay If You're A Ruler", wheat beers were restricted to brewers who catered to the nobility. Reinheitgebot applied only to the rabble, and was intended to make sure enough wheat was available for bakers to stay in business.

Along the way, the famed Reinheitsgebot has been amended to allow for the broader use of wheat, as well as sugar and yeast. Further, Germany's entrance into the EEU made the restrictions inapplicable to imports, and now German brewers are allowed to brew as they please, though many continue to claim compliance with the Reinheitsgebot's provisions as a marketing gimmick. (None that I know of comply with the original 1516 provisions capping beer prices, though, which would lower beer prices to under a dime for a case of beer. Let me know if you find any exceptions.)

Now, back to the debate about the impact of the Reinheitgebot. Did it raise the quality of German beers, or did it squelch innovation? The short answer is "yes". Back in the 1500s, beer was made of a wide variety of crazy materials, and those ingredients were often added with an eye toward producing a cheaper beer rather than a better beer. Local weeds could substitute for hops, rotten apples could substitute for malt, and so forth. Insisting on barley and hops really did cull out the more nasty experiments being sold as "beer", and may have protected the consumer.

The impact on innovation was substantial, though. On the one hand, the Reinheitsgebot encouraged the Germans to fully explore the permutations of all-barley beers. From doppelbock to helles, Germans have produced an impressive range of wonderful barley beers.

On the other hand, the imagination reels at what might have been developed through the years had German brewers had free reign to innovate. Just to the north, Belgium became laboratory of creative brewing, an inspiration to brewers to this day. Even in France, styles incorporating unmalted wheat and spices helped bring refreshment to the world.

Was Duke Wilhelm IV a patron saint of pure beer, or a sinner killing the development of German beers? Again, the correct answer is to avoid the "either or" linguistic trap, and appreciate the good that came from his law.

Sunday Poetry: Dover Beach, by Matthew Arnold

Dover Beach

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

- by Matthew Arnold
________________________________________________

If you're looking for a great love poem to read to your Valentine today, go check out my sweet old etcetera, by ee cummings, or Tin Wedding Whistle, by Ogden Nash (a personal favorite), or Older Love, by Jim Harrison. This one probably won't get you where you want to be.

Matthew Arnold may have been the most morose lover of all time. Scholars believe that he wrote this poem on his honeymoon - one pictures him wandering in after a walk on the beach, his new wife swept up in the romantic seaside, and he starts moaning about his loss of faith, his sadness and human misery. I bet he slept on the couch that night.

But, to give Mr. Arnold a more sympathetic ear, Dover Beach truly is a wonderful love poem. It's not all hearts and flowers in the real world, and the poet shares the feeling that the world lies "before us like a land of dreams,/So various, so beautiful, so new", but he knows that the world is really not as joyful as those in the throes of love may feel. He's not blinded by his love, though he obviously feels those impulses.

"Ah, love, let us be true/to one another . . ." What a brilliant line break! Let us be true - Matthew Arnold cuts through the illusions and wants to share what he feels in complete honesty. He could have written a "roses are red" verse, but he insists on being true to his lover. He knows it's a harsh world, and they will face pain and strife in their future, but he wants to go through it with his lover.

That's pretty sweet, if you think about it.

Let's Talk Politics This Time

Last year about this time, we discussed whether the City Council should make a $2,000,000 donation to the County, in the form of stadium subsidies. I opposed the decision, the Mayor opposed the decision, but the City Council voted 12-1 to give money away.

Since then, the Chiefs and Royals have had horrific seasons with terrible attendance, the City has not had sufficient money to clear streets, our murder rate remains high, a rapist roams Waldo, city employees have been laid off, remaining city workers have had their wages frozen, and we've installed Cathy Jolly's odious red light cameras to generate revenues. All this, and nobody has had the cleverness to point out that the City Councilmembers who voted for the donation should be held accountable for their shocking priorities.

And now the issue is back again.

(As an aside, why don't some of the crack reporters for the Star do an article about the FREE Royals and Chiefs tickets handed out to County and City politicians? Who's sitting in those seats? Are they even being used? I'd be willing to bet there's a story there - either the politicians are handing them out to donors, or they're wasting the tickets. And, as another aside, why doesn't the Star do a story on why, exactly, we even have a Jackson County Sports Authority? How much bureaucracy do we need to pay for simply to keep track of two tenants??)

This year, I'm not even going to bother arguing about the wisdom of stealing $2,000,000 from the city's coffers. My opinion remains clear, but let's look at a much smaller issue.

How do the politics of this debate work this year? Will Funkhouser's suggestion that we end the exemption do him political harm or political good? Will it harm him by showing him (again) as out of step with the Council and willing to risk our sports franchises? Or will it help him by showing him (again) as out of step with the Council and being the only one who prefers to spend $2,000,000 on things like police protection, snow removal, and city workers rather than weak athletes?

I'm curious about what people think. A good friend emailed me when the news came out and said that this closes off Funkhouser's path to reelection - "Voters won’t tolerate our Mayor screwing Chiefs and Royals, regardless of the budget shortfalls." He may be right, or he may be wrong, and the decision could be a step on the path toward reelection. (I know a lot of you disagree with a lot of Funkhouser's decisions, and believe that reelection is utterly impossible. That's fine - but, if you can, try to analyze the politics of this one decision. I'd love to know what you think.)

(Update: A commenter claimed that city officials get tickets, but county officials don't. The commenter is mistaken. Under the lease agreements, County officials get a suite and prime parking. See page 16, section 7.4. It's offensive to think that the City Council would steal money from city priorities so that county officials can watch games from a suite.)

It's Not Hypocrisy, It's Anti-Americanism - Republicans on Stimulus

I try to keep things interesting here, but I confess that the video below is tedious. About 6 minutes into the 10 minute presentation, even the most avid consumer of political trivia will begin to lose interest.

The topic of this tedium is Republicans scoring political points attacking the stimulus package as useless, and then scoring political points spending the stimulus dollars while praising their usefulness. There's even an amusing clip of Louisiana Republican darling Bobby Jindal actually signing a gigantic check, as if he is the actual source of funds.

There are so many examples of this hypocrisy that it's boring.

Republicans are caught on tape attacking a policy that they also claim is good and helpful. The reason for this two-facedness is because they feel compelled to attack the President we elected, which is simply a part of their Party of No strategy.

The Republicans have allowed their unprincipled opposition to lead them into true Anti-Americanism. When you can see with your own eyes the good that a policy is bringing to your own constituents - when you cannot help but share your joy at the opportunities and growth that a policy is creating - and then you attack that policy for cheap political points, you must know in your heart of hearts that your zeal for the political blood has led you to attack America itself.

I had plenty of disagreements with the prior administration, and I have some significant disagreements with President Obama, too. But I praised Bush when he did the right things, and I would never dream of opposing a policy that I knew was good for America simply because it comes from the Republican side of the aisle.

It's okay to be a partisan for your own party, but when it leads you to oppose what you know is good for America, you are actively working against our country. Senator Bond and the dozens of Republicans featured in the following video should be ashamed of themselves, and owe us all apology.

Guinness Master Brewer Coming to Kansas City - Browne's Market Hosting

Guinness stout is one of the classic beers of the world. Browne's Market is one of the classic stores in the city. On March 14, these two classics will be combined, as Fergal Murray, the master brewer of the most esteemed Irish beer will be visiting the most esteemed Irish market in Midwest.

More details will follow in the coming month, but mark your calendar for an Irish beer experience you'll never forget.

O'Fallon Brewery Tasting at Gomer's South

Tony Caradonna of O'Fallon Brewery brought his beers to Gomer's South yesterday evening, and I met two of my beer-loving friends there to sample the line-up. (If you're from St. Louis, you'll want to know that Tony granduated from St. Mary's High School in 1975. If you're not from St. Louis, you don't understand the fascination with high school provenance, but it means a lot to those of us who are. If you think that's just a personal quirk of mine, note that it appears in the second line of his bio. If you look at his staff profiles, everyone who grew up in St. Louis mentions his or her high school at the top, while none of those from out of town mentions the name of his or her high school. What can I say? It's a regional thang.)

As beer-tastings go, this was a casual affair, standing around a counter sipping samples from tiny mouthwash cups. We sampled 6 beers, and they were placed in a thoughtful order. No formal presentation, but the brewer was there to answer questions.

First came O'Fallon Gold. Obviously intended to be a crowd-pleaser, it is lightly hopped, smooth and, frankly, kind of bland. It's not a bad beer at all - I didn't find any flaws with it, and it might be kind of interesting to taste it alongside other brewers' "entry level" beers. An ounce or so of this was plenty to get the idea, though, and then it was upward toward the more interesting offerings.

Next up was O'Fallon Wheat, and it was a clean, basic American wheat beer. Obviously intended to be a crowd-pleaser, it is lightly hopped, smooth and, frankly, kind of bland. It's not a bad beer at all - I didn't find any flaws with it, and it might be kind of interesting to taste it alongside other brewers' "entry level" beers. An ounce or so of this was plenty to get the idea, though, and then it was upward toward the more interesting offerings. Yes, I know I just repeated myself, but the shoe fits. In this case, it might be interesting to try it in comparison to Boulevard Wheat.

On second thought, American wheat is one of my least favorite styles, so why attempt to differentiate between two very competently made, commercially successful beers made by great Missouri brewers? I am thankful that each of them brings in revenue to subsidize the more experimental beers that thrill beer geeks like me. So what if I don't like American wheat beers? Lots of people do, and Missouri produces two excellent, well-brewed versions.

The third beer of the evening was O'Fallon 5-Day IPA. This is the one I bought to take home - well-balanced with hops and malt, it is a great example of an excellent beer that isn't trying to set any records. Too many brewers use their IPAs as entries in a hops arms race, competing to melt your face with overwhelming hop bitterness, flavor and aroma. 5-Day IPA brings a little detente to the IPA world, with a tasty but balanced approach that leads you to say, "I think I'll have another," instead of simply, "Whoa, what just hit me?". This is a really good beer, and it could easily become one of my regulars.

O’Fallon Smoked Porter came next, and it came as a jolt. I'd reviewed this beer 3 years ago in my "99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog" series, and I think I enjoyed that bottle more. The smoke in the beer last night was overwhelming - it tasted like liquid barbecue. Perhaps the bottle I reviewed earlier had aged a bit - aging tends to smooth out strong flavors, and my prior review mentions a slightly tart and acidic aftertaste, which could be a sign of age, and which would have been overwhelmed by the smoke in last night's sample. Even though the beer didn't rank among my favorites last night, it's great to see brewers trying new things and expanding the catalog of beer tastes we can find in our stores.

The fifth beer was O'Fallon Whiskey Barrel Smoked Porter. I wish I had bought a bottle of this to try by itself. As it was, coming right on the heels of the super-smokey Smoked Porter, I was unable to give it a proper tasting. There was definitely smoke there, but I couldn't tell how much of it was due to overlap from the prior beer, and how much was in the sample I was tasting. I picked up on vanilla and maybe even a little honey flavor, but that's about all I'm going to say about this beer until I get a chance to really experience it. I will say, though, that it seemed to have a lot of complexity and that it's a beer I look forward to trying again.

Finally, we closed out on one of O'Fallon's seasonal offerings, O’Fallon Cherry Chocolate Beer. This tasted amazingly similar to those chocolate covered cherries my mother used to get when I was a kid; I wonder if Tony's mom shopped at the same store. I'd never want to plow through a six pack of this beer, but it's a pleasant surprise and, once again, O'Fallon is pushing the limits of what you might expect a bottle of beer to hold. It was also interesting to me that the base beer on this confection is actually a dark wheat, instead of the more typical porter or stout. I would love to see how he makes this beer!

O'Fallon Brewery has a 15 barrel system, which they are using to produce 3,000+ barrels a year. They've been quietly building their reputation and they're the second largest American brewery in the St. Louis area (now that AB has been sold to foreign interests). They recently got their license to produce stronger beers, so look for them to start experimenting even more in the coming years.

(If you're interested in hearing more about tasting opportunities at Gomer's, sign up for their newsletters here.)

Decorating with Books

Books have lost their prominent position in my life.

Books continue to fill shelves throughout my house, they crowd my nightstand, and a trip to the bookstore is an expensive outing, but the ones on the shelves are decorations, the ones on my nightstand are a 2 minute distraction before sleep, and my purchases are mere good intentions. I don't read books anymore.

Of course, that is a bit of an exaggeration. I read the informative parts of cookbooks, and a new book on brewing will be devoured in days. I browse poetry books to give me something to write about on Sundays. But I cannot recall the last time I picked up a meaty work of fiction and read myself into a new world.

Last week, a younger friend told me she had finished reading "A Soldier of the Great War", possibly my favorite novel. She loved it. I was flattered she had invested the time to read such a lengthy book on my recommendation, but, internally, it struck me that I had read the book more than a decade ago, and, if she were to ask me for a recommendation from the vast store of great books written in the past 5 years, I would be a dry well. I was a little jealous of the reading experience she had just been through. I don't really read books anymore.

I read lots of other things, and a lot of it has real quality. Much of the blog world amounts to an elaborate melding of created personae, real world events and selected fiction. Real creativity can be found on the pages of Frighteningly Uncommon Sense, Observant Bystander, and most of the other blogs on the left side of this page. There's a lot more going on than meets the eye.

But it's not a substitute for really sinking into a great novel. I want to spend the time inside a character's skin, and experience life in a way I haven't yet imagined. I want to ride on a raft down the Mississippi; I want to be honestly human in World War II; I want to pursue Fermina until she deems me worthy.

Over the next several months, I may miss a few more blog posts, and I might fall behind on Facebook updates. I hope to be a bit more absent. I've got plenty of decorations to choose from in this house.

Hyde Park - Making Kansas City Just a Little More Dangerous?

Just north of 38th Street, between the north and southbound lanes of Gillham Road, is one of Kansas City's prettiest little parks. It consists of a small valley or a large ravine, with stairs leading down into it from the north end, while the south end is open and inviting. There are few improvements - a couple picnic tables, a swingset, some tennis courts, and street lights.

I've walked down there, and it's a quiet, open, slightly cooler place to escape road noise and surround yourself with pretty stone formations. You can imagine what it was like when it was a golf course, and cows would graze on the greens.

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking on this little gem. Over the years, it will be transforming into a heavily wooded sinkhole choked with leaves and littered with crime. In recent months, some insane arborist has planted dozens of trees throughout the park, transforming its future into a dark forest where crime can flourish and its bucolic past will be obliterated.

Right now, the impact is minimal, but the 30+ trees are sprinkled throughout the small park, spaced as if intended to block sight-lines and create a claustrophobic forest from a secluded open space. They are merely saplings now, but, if allowed to grow, they will change forever the look and feel of what our ancestors saw on the wagon trail between Independence and Westport, perhaps on their way to Santa Fe.

I'm sure that whoever decided that this small patch of historical ground could somehow be improved by jamming as many trees as possible into its open spaces was well-intentioned. Trees are beautiful and they help the environment.

But when trees become a dense, dark forest and crowd out an historic, beautiful space, they lose some of their beauty. If you want to enjoy Hyde Park, you'd better do so in the next couple years.