Before I get to the latest mental trauma (catch up with last year’s creepy encounters), here’s a recap on the ah-frikkin-mazing foods I’ve been consuming this weekend whilst in Fountain Hills, Arizona.
I’ve been enjoying one of these a day: Hearts of palm salad: full of avocado, hearts of palm (still have no idea what that is), romaine and tomato all tossed in a coconut lime vinaigrette.
Breakfast at the lovely Sofrita. When I find something I love, I tend to stick with it.
Bison meatloaf over cheddar-garlic mashed potatoes topped with a rich gravy from a festival food stand. This rocked my world! The pumpkin chocolate chip cookie, drizzled with icing that came alongside nearly made me pass out from sheer joy. I may have gone back today and gotten an entire bowl stacked with those cookies… Maybe…
Last night I enjoyed my favorite amber in the entire world: Odell 90 Shilling (or 3…) followed by a lengthy, tipsy trip to the gym. Tonight I had ONE Odell IPA to help me suffer through the writing of a tedious paper.
I was planning on pairing that IPA with a spicy burger, but the grilled salmon was calling out to me, so this mismatched combination took place. C’est la vie!
I also was hard at work creating a label for my vanilla porter, which is as of now simply called Bexter’s Vanilla Porter. I was contacted by a website – Labeley.com, where you can create your own labels for free. It took a few tries for all the graphics and text to come out correctly, but I think I found a suiting image for my beer! Now to attempt to print it when I get home…
NOW for the creepy encounter:
Becki entered her hotel room with a six pack of Odell Brewing IPA, also known as liquid gold, in hand. She kneeled down before the humming refrigerator and pulled the door open, preparing for the blast of icy air that was bound to escape. Nothing. The refrigerator hummed on, but the three beers from the previous evening sat inside, their labels wrinkled and peeling from lack of chill, warm condensation spilling like tears from their sides. With sadness in her heart, Becki phoned the front desk.
The maintenance man was speedy. Within minutes a knock was heard upon the door of the room. She opened it and was greeted by an awkward middle-aged man with large glasses and a bald spot, wearing a black shirt tucked into high waisted black jeans.
“What seems to be the problem?” He asked kindly.
Becki explained the situation and the maintenance man unplugged the refrigerator and took it to the door. As he prepared to leave, he stopped.
“I’ve been off the clock for an hour,” he began, “But I’m always open to spending time with lonely hotel guests.”
Becki’s danger radar began to send fight-or-flight signals through her brain. Her muscles tensed.
“I’ll bring you a new fridge,” he promised. “But you don’t happen to have a jealous boyfriend who’s going to beat me up if he sees me leave your room, do you?”
Becki stared dumbfounded. Quickly, she regained her common sense.
“My boyfriend will be back soon,” She began. “But I’m sure it’ll only take a minute to bring the fridge…”
“Good,” Maintenance man said. “I don’t want him to see a handsome man leave his girlfriend’s room, get jealous and jump me.”
He chuckled and left the room, dragging the refrigerator behind him.
Becki shivered with disgust from head to toe, then prepared herself for the return of the maintenance man and the new fridge. There was a knock at the door. She dialed 911 on her phone, her finger hovering above the “call” button as she opened the door, just in case. The maintenance man came in, quietly installed the working refrigerator, then turned to Becki.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” He asked.
“No,” Becki replied, “Thank you very much. That’s all.”
The maintenance man pushed on. “Well I’ll be going down to room 105. That room is empty for the rest of the day. I’ll be going down there to rest since there’s no one in that room for the rest of the day. Room 105.”
Becki’s finger hovered ever close to the “call” button on her phone.
“If you need anything,” The maintenance man continued, “Anything at all, I’ll be down in room 105. You don’t even have to call. Just come down and knock.”
A thick silence hung in the air as he let Becki process that information. She smiled numbly and nodded, then avoided eye contact as he dragged the broken fridge from the room. As the door began to close, an echo sounded through the room.
“Room 105.”
Iron Fist is located in a relatively large facility and has done incredibly well with distribution, especially considering it’s just over a year old. If you’re lucky enough to live in Southern California or Hawaii, their delicious brews can be found there!
One of the owners/brewers gave us a tour of the place and we got to try some beer straight from the fermentor.
They’d recently made a beer called Martial Law: a Belgian Strong Ale with cognac soaked oak chips and sour cherries thrown straight into the fermentor. On tap, this is absolutely delightful! It’s always nice to try something that’s completely out of the ordinary, especially when it works out so well!
I was hoping for a growler of this, but as you can see from the simple taster above it didn’t work out… Nitro + growler does not work. Sadness. I got a growler of the regular Velvet Glove instead.
Their growlers are ridiculously heavy-duty and awesome! They’re a bit more pricey than most growlers I’ve gotten, but well worth it for the design. This will be the new centerpiece in my room. It’s that incredible.
Seriously heavy duty.
All growlers aspire to this, I’m sure.
I’m hoping to get down there one last time before Martial Law is gone for good (it’s only going to be brewed twice… So far…).
There were two other people in the place when we arrived around 11am.
