Why the OPC?

He's not the first prominent pastor in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church to commit suicide, and I suspect he won't be the last. I know of another during the 20th century, and wouldn't be surprised to learn there were still more. Of course, suicide is rarely mentioned in obituaries, which made the e-mail we received on Thursday all the more surprising. Unlike that previous case (or cases), the family clearly decided to announce the cause of death: "[he] took his own life at the age of 67 after a lengthy struggle with depression." Strangely, I can't decide what to make of their decision.

I don't know whether it's the most prominent, but MakeItOK.org is representative of current voices insisting that the best way to remove the stigma on mental illness is to talk about it; or, more precisely, for those who experience mental illness to make their struggles known. Just as cancer is no longer considered a character defect, depression and suicidality might be accepted as amongst the common risks of living in a fallen world. In that hope, I decided to come out about my own struggles, with decidedly mixed results.

On the one hand, a fair number of people reached out in sympathy. On the other, some used my admission to attack both me and my assurance of salvation. Saddest, I think, was another OPC pastor with a history of depression who tried to reach out with encouragement while warning that discussing my mental condition would make it nearly impossible for me to receive another call; indeed, he said he wouldn't recommend a pastoral candidate with depression to any session. I pray for him.

It's possible yesterday's sobering news will make sessions and presbyteries realize the severity and ubiquity of depression amongst pastors. I have three colleagues with whom I've openly discussed our suicidal thoughts, and I think it's only been three because most are afraid to make themselves vulnerable. Congregations and presbyteries are some of the harshest, judgmental and most unforgiving groups I've ever encountered: to show them weakness is to risk an abbreviated career. Maybe congregations and presbyteries will become more solicitous of pastors' mental health, but I think it more likely that ministers who struggle will now be thought of as even greater liabilities. What session wants to deal with a sudden pulpit vacancy?

This week's shocking suicide was accompanied by the surprising death of David Haney (by heart attack), the moderator of our most recent General Assembly and, more importantly, one of the few truly good guys working at the OPC's denominational level. I say that not to diminish others but to praise Dave, who worked for decades as the OPC's finances guy and always extended himself to help and serve others (and bought me a couple beers that one time). Of late, he led a successful effort to create a denominational Committee on Ministerial Care which consolidated all the OPC had been doing, across its sundry committees, to look after pastors. You couldn't talk to Dave without seeing his heart and recognizing his earnest desire for the OPC to do better by its pastors.

Dave's death makes this week's suicide all the more sobering. He could have provided the leadership to help us all not only mourn, but also to work towards a better future in which pastors are not alienated from their congregations and presbyteries by a reasonable fear of victimization for the crime of being a fallen human being. I can't think of anyone with the standing, courage or vision to succeed him.

Over the last couple years, I've had occasion to become more disillusioned than ever with the OPC. This week's deaths have underscored that for me. If our Church can't provide Spiritual care for all its members, then I'm not sure there's a good answer to "Why the OPC?"

A big two hearted ale

At last, a beer to drink whilst reading my favorite Ernest Hemingway story ever.

It's the little things

Last night I enjoyed my first pumpkin beer of 2017 because the only people who drink pumpkin beer outside the Oct. 1 to the-day-after-Thanksgiving window also wear white trousers before Memorial Day (in other words, satanists).

This morning I awoke to learn that the Denver Post has dropped Fred Basset from its comics section.

As Ice Cube might say, it's a good day.

Another argument for books

As a people, the citizens of the great state of Colorado are united in their confidence in the superiority of Coloradan beer to that of the not-quite-as-great state of Oregon. Sadly, our unity is sorely tested when the craft beer scene of Denver is pitted against that of the All-America city of Aurora. 

(Just how "All-America" is Aurora? Mayor Steve Hogan, an Eagle Scout, personally answered an e-mail I sent to him through the city's website and then gave my Cub Scout den a tour of City Hall. That's how All-America Aurora is. 

But I digress.)

The breweries of both Aurora and Denver multiply at a dizzying pace, and even a dedicated IPA man such as my humble self is torn between Dry Dock's Hop Abomination, Station 26's Juicy Banger, and Comrade Brewing's Superpower. I have also been known to wax rhapsodic about Copper Kettle's Helles Lager. Living in Aurora and working in Denver, I have, like so many others, had my loyalties sorely tested.

That is, until the Aurora Public Library upped Aurora's beer game.

In 2016, the Library system offered a truly amazing deal. Visit four Aurora breweries, get an Aurora Library pint glass. Visit seven, and get a 64 oz. growler. As you will not be surprised to observe, I ended up with two pint glasses and the growler, which is even more impressive given the number of times I forgot to bring my "passport" when stopping by one of the participating taprooms.

In your face, Denver. And I won't even deign to mention how far in the dust this leaves Portland and its lumberjack-bearded hipsters. The Presbyterian Curmudgeon is too classy for that.

Father Curmudgeon's Day

Thing 2 decided to make a play for "favorite curmudgeling" by suggesting a beer tasting for Father's Day this year. Mrs. Curmudgeon did the bulk of the legwork and preparation, of course, pairing each selection with cheeses and sausages (yum). Credit where credit is due: Thing 2 did put together a video presentation on the history of beer. The kid has potential.

That puts me in mind of a Father's Day project he did back in first grade, for which, for reasons I don't entirely understand, he was asked to describe the paterfamilias. Even several years later, his description remains accurate (although I have put on a few pounds since).

Christmastide is beer

It being the 12th day of Christmas already, I had better get to the winter warmers I've newly discovered and enjoyed this yuletide season. Interestingly, none have a specifically Christmas theme, perhaps becaues all lean toward hoppy and pale rather than the stoutness most frequently associated with a belly like a bowlful of jelly.

Hitachino Nest Celebration Ale is a lovely white ale, very hop-forward, and the first from a Japanese brewer over which I've actually gotten excited.

Brrr, from Widmer Brothers, is a hoppy red ale. The hops and malts nicely balance each other; the mellowness I associate with reds gives it a nice finish.

Elysian Brewing Company's BiFrost is smooth, slightly sweet, and with just a hint of hop bitterness. Intriguing.

Finally, it turns out Left Hand's Polestar Pilsner isn't a seasonal. I'm glad to learn it's available year-round, but I'm including it here because I have just encountered it during my annual Christmastide ale exploration. It's got the crispness and hoppy finish for which I love pilsners. This may become my go-to session beer.

The end of Christmastide means the beginning of the long, miserable winter slog. Perhaps these winter warmers will help you get through the dark eternity which is February.

Christmastime is beer (2014)

I have to admit that I've become a little fussy with regard to winter warmers. Since the species tends toward malt, caramel, and chocolate notes, and I tend to prefer hop, citrus, and pine accents, even some of my old favorite Christmas beers no longer appeal. Nonetheless, as I just had a glass of Full Sail's "Wreck the Halls" at the Falling Rock Taphouse, I'm reminded that the Christmas brewing season is wide enough to embrace even an bitters-loving curmudgeon. In addition to "Wreck the Halls," I'm looking forward to Pyramid's "Snow Cap," New Belgium's "Accumulation" (still the archetypal white IPA), and the 2014 Sierra Nevada "Celebration Ale."

Christmastime is still beer!

In praise of MillerCoors

Even I have expressed cynicism about the way the AC Golden brewery is less than forthcoming about being simply another room in the massive Coors facility in Golden, Colorado, but I have enjoyed its Colorado Native lager since it first appeared here in the Centennial State. Not only has AC Golden backed up that lager's name by making it available only in Colorado, they've made good use of that MolsonMillerCoors money by paying Coloradan hops growers three times the market rate to ensure a local crop.

Three times.

It would appear that even a ginormous, soulless corporation whose founder had the misfortune to be named "Adolph" can love Colorado enough to not only not buy the cheapest ingredients (which would come from Washington state), but to pay triple in order to, for all intents and purposes, create a local supply chain.

Coors. I won't drink the beer with that name, but I'll raise a glass of Colorado Native to the corporation.

Ah, when Christmastime was beer

My tastes in beer are constantly evolving, and over the last few years I've come increasingly to prefer crisp pilsners and IPAs. As I returned to past Christmastide favorites this year, I found I am no longer as enamored of the seasonal offerings as I once was. I am put off by the accent on malts, but continue to appreciate those which balance them with plentiful hops. Notable for satisfyingly hoppy finishes, I still enjoy Full Sail's Wassail and Breckinridge's Christmas Ale. Sadly, my increasing finickiness means no new Christmas favorites this year.

But do not despair, dear reader and fellow drinker. As we all know, Christmas is just the beginning of what can be a cold, cold winter (plenty of ice and snow), and the winter warmers have a certain charm. I recently sampled a bottle of Pyramid's Snow Cap Ale which made favorable impression. However, my favorite since the recent solstice has been New Belgium's Accumulation, a white IPA. As every curmudgeon can attest, sometimes bitterness, by way of copious IBUs, is all that can warm a cold, cold heart.

Thanksgiving Day: the waiting is the hardest part

A few years ago, I was briefly enamored with a grilling device which promised perfectly smoked meats. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was basically a convection oven which used charcoal as its heat source, and its "grilling" process involved little more than inserting the food and then leaving said food alone until done. I immediately lost interest, as the entire purpose of grilling is to fiddle with the foods, constantly adjusting heat, position of foodstuffs on the grate, finding the magic point when perfect char has been obtained but just before burning occurs, so on and so forth.

Accordingly, the most trying time for me on Thanksgiving Day comes after wrapping the turkey in foil and adding hardwood. Lifting the lid will only cause heat and smoke to escape, and perhaps lead to an underdone bird. I must wait patiently for three hours, keeping my hands and barbecue tools to myself.

I've learned to occupy myself with hanging Christmas lights from the roof and a bottle or two of Sam Adams Octoberfest (I carefully reserve a six-pack or so for Thanksgiving; this tradition dates back to when I was buying beer past its sell-by dates at a local distributor's dock sale, said business now sadly closed). Not much of a sop to my obsessive tendencies, but it's the best I can do.

Thanksgiving Day, 7 a.m.

I light my coals in a chimney an hour before the turkey is to begin grilling, as the set-up is rather time-consuming. I do this on the gas grill in order to minimize soot on my Weber 22", which I use for all my artisanal grilling.

(Yes, that is an authentic set of vintage Korean barbecue tongs [circa 1968]: a legacy from Pa Curmudgeon's legendary bachelor days which I use to handle hot coals.)

Then I haul the brining bucket from the garage refrigerator (yes, I have to pull out several shelves and let my beer sit overnight at the garage's ambient temperature; no sacrifice is too great for a masterpiece) and drain the turkey in the kitchen sink. Most recipes recommend rinsing the brine from the turkey. However, I rinse the turkey before brining, and my theory is that any residual brine will merely add flavor to the pan drippings, and hence to the inevitable gravy.

This just got real, people

As reported throughout the interweb and other, less-traditional news sources today, the federal government partial shutdown has led to the complete shutdown of the process by which new beers are approved for sale across state lines. This means spring seasonals might not make it to stores in time to replace sold-out stocks of winter seasonals.

On second thought, perhaps this less a disaster than an excuse for me to remain firmly ensconced here at home, where I will still be able to visit and partake from the fresh stock of our great state's nearly-infinite number of craft breweries. 'Tis a privilege to live in Colorado!

Pumpkin beer

Today I used the expression "Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should do it." It's a favorite, one I picked up from two good friends, entirely unacquainted with one another but united in their distaste for pumpkin pie, aginst which they enjoyed deploying said aphorism. But I love pumpkin pie (preferrably topped with vast quantities of whipped cream), and I'm mighty fond of pumpkin beers.

I write as I finish off a bomber of Dry Dock's Imperial Pumpkin Ale, and as with most everything produced by the Pride of Aurora, Colorado, it's mighty tasty. It's got a much higher ABV and maple notes than my more ginger ale-style pumpkin favorite, Shipyard's Pumpkinhead, but at the moment I am more than slightly happy.

My question: does this make me some kind of lightweight beer dilettante sissy, or an adventurous sophisticate?

Braai Day

I have a new personal hero.

Driving home Monday, tears literally came to my eyes as I listened to an All Things Considered (NPR) story about Jan Scannell, who is on a one-man crusade to unite South Africa around the wonder of grilling over hardwood while drinking beer. No country this side of glory can compare to these United States, but I'm almost ready to emigrate just so I can regularly partake of boerewors.

Grilled sausages: that which truly unites all humanity.

Glad tidings of great joy

Just under the wire, I've found a Christmas album for 2012: John Roderick and Jonathan Coulton's One Christmas at a Time, available for immediate download through the wonders of the webernet. Why it's worth your while: the long needed, but not until now composed, song about "The Week Between" Christmas and New Year, when the spirit careens between ennui and despair.

And on that note, merry Christmas!

Holiday cheer

For the second year in a row, I've not found any Christmas albums about which to get excited. The flagship compilation is Holiday Fun, featuring the usual list of hipster musicians and sold by (at least) Amazon, eMusic, and Starbucks, giving it ubiquity; however, it lacks any notable or innovative contributions. Tracey Thorn offered Tinsel and Lights, which maintains her Everything-but-the-Girl post-Ben Watt's electronica phase middle-age melancholy: satisfying song-writing, but not much for holiday cheer. I've also been downloading some Johnny Cash Christmas albums from Freegal, but lest's be honest: this isn't the work for which he'll be remembered.

This year, I recommend you save yourself some money and go to Noisetrade. There, you will find Fireplace Songs and the Paste Holiday Sampler to just as satisfying as anything for which you'd shell out shekels this year.

On the upside, I found a new Christmas beer! The famed Spoetzl brewery of Shiner, Texas, is now offering Holiday Cheer, a "Dunkelweizen brewed with Texas peaches and roasted pecans." I last enjoyed wheat beers around the time I wed Mrs. Curmudgeon (I remember drinking Samuel Adams' Summer Ale during our July honeymoon), but Holiday Cheer has none of the yeast and granular feel on the tongue to which I object. Maybe it's the darker wheat, or maybe it's the peach sugars, but it's refreshing and, simultaneously, bold enough to stand up to other winter ales. I recommend drinking it all by its lonesome in order to appreciate the complex interaction of the flavors.

Get a six-pack of Holiday Cheer, and you may not need a ground-breaking Christmas album.

Pa Curmudgeon yanks my chain

Pa Curmudgeon sent me this article from the Willamette Week, in which the editors attempt to determine the state with the best beer. According the rules of the contest, Colorado (which, as we all know, has a beer culture vastly superior to that of Portland Oregon) came out pretty low, entirely because Fat Tire was chosen to represent the Centennial State. Well, duh.

Not surprisingly, Oregon came out in the top 10, represented by a porter. This is interesting, as the rules of the contest state, "Most candidates are the best-selling local brews in their homeland." A porter is the best-selling local brew in Oregon. Who knew?

While I disdain Fat Tire just as much as the next guy, let me take this opportunity to defend New Belgium. Its flagship product is nothing to write home about, but much of its output is. A few months ago I discovered Belgo IPA, a Belgian-styled IPA. Generally, I find Belgian ales overly yeasty and off-putting, but when combined with IPA hoppiness, this beer intrigues me to no end. I can't say I love it, but I find it endlessly fascinating, a challenge to which I want to keep coming back.

And no, it doesn't taste like Fat Tire.

Racer 5

I am not ashamed to admit I will try a beer for no other reason than an attractive label. When I was at Denver's Falling Rock Taphouse with Pa Curmudgeon last summer, my inner six-year-old couldn't help but notice the very Speed Racerish Racer 5 IPA taphead. I've been back several times and had Racer 5 on each occasion. It may not be the greatest IPA ever, but the logo makes it a thrill. Since it comes from a California brewery, I've only ever had it on tap. Someday, I hope to pick up a six-pack, although that would probably mean setting foot in California again.

In the meantime, Bear Republic has an online gift shop with a good assortment of Racer 5-emblazoned caps and t-shirts. Just in case you were wondering what to get me for this Lenten season.

The Presbyterian Curmudgeon wishes for a merry Christmas album

With just five days to Christmas, I suppose it's time to officially give up on this year's Christmas offerings. Having been enchanted by She & Him's first two albums, I had high hopes for A Very She & Him Christmas, but said hopes were dashed. Not bad, but it felt like they were much too cool to fully commit themselves in the way a Christmas album demands. Having said that, I did like their rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside," in which they reverse the lines assigned to male and female.

As nothing else has emerged to capture my imagination this Yuletide season, I find myself harkening back fondly to Raul Malo's Marshmellow World and Other Holiday Favorites. And being disappointed with She & Him's "Little Saint Nick," I've now determined the definitive version is by Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem on the 1979 classic John Denver & the Muppets: A Christmas Together.

Looks like another round of traditional Christmas tunes for the curmudgelings this year.

Also good in liquid form

Beer: it's literally a life-saver.

Take that, John MacArthur.