Cultural Learnings From America's Hat

Culinary defication

So there I was enjoying a loud beverage at a local watering hole when up comes this lovely young bar wench. After the mandatory small talk concerning issues such as the weather and how the local sports team is performing she asks if I'd like something to eat. Despite not being particularly hungry the bar wench is pretty fit and I figure the longer I parlay with her the greater my chances of discovering if she is a natural blonde. I therefore respond in the affirmative before asking what she'd recommend.

So then, Fit Bar Wench Whom I am Keen To Discover The Natural Hair Colour Of says "how about a bowl of poo-teen?". Note the italics indicate the phonetic pronunciation of the word. More on this later. So there I am. Faced with a word the meaning of which I am entirely unfamiliar with yet containing potential comic value my brain moves into witty retort mode. Possible responses included:

• "that sounds like sh!t" to
• "so your washroom (Candian term for dunny/crapper/toilet/etc) doubles as the kitchen does it?" and finally
• "is that what the girls in Two Girls, One Cup were eating?".

That final thought was my downfall. Mental flash backs to the Two Girls video overcame my mental faculties. I don't think I even said a word. I actually think I blacked out. The next thing I knew was I had the cheque for my drinks and Fit Bar Wench Whom I am Keen To Discover The Natural Hair Colour Of is standing over by the bar giving me a weird look. Suffice to say I never did find out if she was a natural blonde.

Sorry if this tangent ended abruptly and with no real conclusion. I got distracted by this Swedish bird (non avian variety). They are known for being distracting. The Australian government is in fact considering making it illegal for Swedish women to be within 10 metres of a road unless they are dressed in full burqa style body coverings. It is estimated that motoring accidents decrease by 24.82% if this law were introduced. Anyway, for more context see this wikipedia entry on poutine. Turns out it's not a pile of crap and is actually a very tasty way to serve chips (French fries for our North American friends or frites for our European colleagues).

Jafas and Trade Unions

If Canada is America's Hat then Australian's must be the hair lice on America's scalp. They are everywhere and often considered to be pests that you have to treat with chemicals (i.e. alcohol) to keep them in control. Yes, as a proud Australian it pains me to say it but we seem to have exported a large amount of our bogans and douche bags to Canada. Australia's gain. Canada's loss. If you are a fan of baggy snowboard pants with the crotch worn down around shin height and likely to give the Royal Canadian Mounted Police opportunity to exercise their jurisdictional powers then you'll fit right in. To give you an idea of just how prevalent Aussies are over here, Vegemite is stocked in your local supermarket. Further damning evidence of the plague like nature of Australians in Canada can be seen in the fact that there is a noticeable spike in public nudity, affray, racism, general dickheadery, and other alcohol related crimes on January 26th each year. Australia Day. I tender the following evidence:

8am. 30 minutes before opening time.

Ten Seconds Later

Minus 10 degrees Celsius

What with the best and brightest of Australia on show it's no wonder the locals came up with a pejorative acronym for Australians. Jafa. Just Another F*cking Australian. Ouch. That hurts Canada. Yet despite this seeming animosity towards Aussies, there is a strange symbiotic relationship between Canada and it's Australian guests. One can't live without the other. Like young lovers in the Velcro stage of their relationship (think of the similarities between Velcro and pubic hair) the two are inseparable. To the uninitiated outsider on their first trip to Canada it would be fair assumption that the ski resorts of Canada actually exist in Australia. Every second mountain worker has a name badge saying "Hi, I'm Wayne/Sheila/Norm/Bazza/etc from Australia". Australians seem to be Canada's equivalent of wet back Mexican labour in the US. Everyone complains about them but love the fact they are prepared to do the jobs Canadian's don't want to do themselves. Hell, at $12 per hour even a bogan Australian is pretty good value. This whole situation got me thinking that there would be a fantastic business opportunity for the Trade Union movement here. I've got a mind to come over and start up a union and hold the mountain to ransom. The place would collapse faster than a Latin American. I'd call it the Australian Ski and Snowfield Hospitality Operations Licensing and Extended Services Union (ASSHOLES).



Dope = munchies = rug munching?

Pugilistic Stoners

You would be forgiven for thinking that boxing is the number one sport amongst disaffected youth in Canada today. Why? Because I say so. And because all the kids are talking about is punching cones. Work sucks man...let's go punch some cones bro. My snowboard pants are like way baggy...let's go punch some cones bro. It's raining...let's go punch some cones bro. It's Wednesday...let's go punch some cones bro. After repeatedly telling people they are not American whilst holidaying overseas, getting stoned would appear to be Canada's national pastime. They certainly put our Dutch friends to shame. What with quality stores like BC Smoke Shop (who are sponsoring today's blog) it may not be totally legal to light up but we are sure as hell going to make it as easy as possible for you to inhale.

A is more than the indefinite article

Canadians have bastardised the Queen's English. The word "eh" (pronounced like the letter A) appears at the end of most sentences. The only use I can ascertain for it is to communicate to the other participants in the conversation that one has finished speaking and is likely awaiting a response. It's like using the word "over" when communicating via short wave radio. Over. An average conversation would go something like this.

Canadian 1: Hey bro.

Canadian 2: Hey man.

Canadian 1: So how aboot that ice hockey eh?

Canadian 2: Oh I missed it because I was stoned eh.

Canadian 1: Oh you got anymore eh?

Canadian 2: Eh bro sure do eh.

Canadian 1: Let's go punch some cones eh bro.

Canadian 2: Eh.

I'm oot

So then. Canada. Recommended if you're a stoner with no care for correct grammar who likes vegemite. I'm going to go punch some cones now eh.

Thou shalt drink beer - La Trappe Dubbel

Beer is holy. Don't believe me? Then see below and prepare yourself to be astounded, impressed and just a little bit jealous as I wax lyrical in my latest beer review. The tipple of choice this time is called La Trappe Dubbel.



La Trappe Dubbel - if this was on offer instead of Communion wine I'd consider becoming religious

Nothing this good can be legal. Maybe that's why La Trappe Dubbel is brewed in Holland. Home of tall people, dykes (the water retaining kind, although I'm sure there are a few carpet fans in Holland too), dairy products and lax drug laws.

La Trappe Dubbel, as the name suggests, at least to those who speak French or whom are just great at trivial pursuit, is a Trappist "double" beer. Still don't know what that means? What the hell is Trappist? What is a "double" beer? Read on and I shall educate.

Let's start with Trappist. Trappist refers to the Trappist Order of Cistercian Monks. Yes. Monks. You know, those professional prayers. Fact: a key part of a monk's job is saying prayers for other people. Too busy searching for the Holy Grail or simply tied up raping and pillaging? No worries. Just pop into your local monastery and ask a monk to pray on your behalf. You'll probably even get a mug of beer for your troubles! Monks were actually one of the first known examples of outsourcing. In fact, some of the more technologically advanced abbeys have set up prayer centres in India. Cost per prayer is almost unbeatable. Famous monks include that psychotic bloke in The Da Vinci Code who is trying to kill Tom Hanks all the time, Baldrick during the first series of Rowan Atkinson's (aka Mr Bean) comedy Blackadder, and people who are good at Kung Fu.

So this beer is made by monks. While this may at first seem a little strange, monks have been known to get up to some pretty crazy stuff. Like Italian monk Brother Cesare aka "Brother Metal" and his heavy metal antics.

Brother Cesare Bonizzi - says his prayers at Level 11 

Alongside heavy metal the monks of Western Europe are also (in)famous for brewing some of the greatest beers of all time. This shouldn't come as a surprise given monks can also be credited with inventing what we know as modern day beer. I've touched on this bit of history in previous blogs so I won't dwell overly long. Here is the point form version:

• Monks often observe periods of fast (i.e. they starve themselves)
• Monks are a traditionally smart bunch of guys with a lot of time on their hands
• To get around the rules they decided to try and put food in water. Tricky.
• Grains + water + time = beer!

Some scholars maintain that God had a hand in the creation of beer. Ancient texts record the first beer recipes as written down by Brother Fosters. In these texts Brother Fosters claims to have had a vision of a bearded carpenter turning water into a wondrous amber liquid. Filled with religious fervor Brother Fosters set about recreating his vision. Fast forward 500 years and you've got La Trappe Dubbel. Here endeth the lesson.

So we've got monks brewing beer whilst listening to heavy metal. What about this "Dubbel" business? Unfortunately this story is not nearly as interesting as our monks. Dubbel is just a naming convention taken on by traditional abbey brewed beers. It generally refers to the strength of the beer and the brewing process. There are four basic classes. Blonde, being the light beer (if you consider 5% alcohol light!) , then Dubbel, Tripel and Quadrupel. So Dubbel is a "mid" strength abbey style beer typically tipping the scales at around 7% alcohol.



The actual beer then. As you can see from the picture, La Trappe Dubbel exhibits a deep reddish brown colour that just screams dark malt flavours. On pouring a lively head (insert sexual innuendo here) froths to the top before quickly dissipating to leave a light dusting of foam. For such a dark beer the aroma is subtle. Like German pop star Kim Petras's sexuality.



Kim Petras - I'd hit this...and then be scarred for life



Unlike the aroma, the taste of La Trappe Dubbel is about as subtle as a gynaecologist wearing a gas mask. La Trappe Dubbel is an assault of dark burnt caramel barley malt with the hops, spice and fruit staying just on the edge of vision but never truly being seen. The pure simple taste of this beer on your palate is the definition of caramel malt. If nothing else you should taste it just to appreciate what we mean when we rabbit on about "caramel malt". This is just so good. It almost makes monastic life seem worth the bad hair cut.

So that's about it then. Get closer to God next weekend and grab a La Trappe Dubbel. Your very soul may just depend on it.