Thank God, my days of drinking alone are about to be over.
So today, I turned in my last stories at work, submitted my last time card and left early. That’s right, I ain’t been here real long but it’s time to pack up and head back to sweet, sweet Missoula, Montana, where I have landed a job in my field. I am the luckiest person in the world.
Anyway, what to celebrate my freedom with but a beverage? I drove up to Poulsbo, Washington, which is a delightful little Nordic-themed town and this weekend happens to be Viking Fest. I walked around the food booths and the “authentic 900 a.d. village re-creation” which was full of authentic Chinese-made printed cotton scarves and knit hats, and went to the Hare and Hound to see if they had any Slippery Pig Brewery on tap.
I’ve heard tales of this exotic Slippery Pig Brewery and its unique beers like lemon verbena hefeweizen, which sounds more like a kind of spa massage. I had to have some. But I thought the taproom didn’t open until 2, so I had time to kill.
It turned out Hare and the Hound had Slippery Pig’s Rhubarb IPA on tap! The nice bartender poured me off a pint and I could see this was no ordinary beer. They serve from a cask, not a keg, so it was nearly room temperature, unfiltered and uncarbonated. I could see the bits of sediment suspended, unmoving, in the glass. The IPA was less hoppy than I expected and more thick, sweet and slightly bitter at the end. I couldn’t detect any rhubarb flavor, but it was delicious and super strong, which meant I had to steel my resolve and sip it over the course of an hour in order to keep my shit together.
After a nourishing scotch egg with some of the most fiery horseradish mustard I’ve ever tasted, I checked my watch (by which I mean my cell phone) and drove to the Slippery Pig tasting room. After cruising down a winding dirt road, assured by my GPA* I was going the right way, I thought I was lost but saw the Slippery Pig sign on a rusted-out horse trailer directing me the right way. In the midst of a small farm, I spotted chairs and an awning over an open-air bar that must be the taproom.
Not a soul was in sight. I shut off my car and listened to the breeze for a moment. It was only a couple minutes after 2:00, maybe the hours I’d remembered were more flexible. Well, I’d already tasted a really good beer of theirs, and I was not feeling brave enough to wander around a farm all by my lonesome demanding beer, so I left.
And now that I actually go back to the Yelp page, I see the Slippery Pig tasting hours for Fridays are from 4 to 8. Goddammit. Reading comprehension fail.
I can’t wait to go back home, where I know the brewery hours, I don’t have to drive anywhere and my friends can come with me.
*UPDATED TO ADD: I could fix that, but then you’d never get to share in the joy of the most hilarious typo ever.