Boulder Brewery Bouncing

Since living in Boulder, Colorado, it should come as no surprise that I've developed a sincere relationship with craft beer.  I'm not sure if I've quite reached "hop head" status, but it's safe to say I'm now a devoted fan of the IPA.  My dad has never been prouder!

My younger brother is also in the midst of cultivating a beer passion and this Memorial Day, we spent the better part of his visit in a serious beer daze.  Each day was spent experimenting with a different local six pack from one of the surrounding areas of Boulder.  The brews within the city limits?  Don't worry, we're getting to that. 

Our plan: to visit all of Boulder's favorite craft breweries in one day.  Reality: it took two days, only because we were having too much fun, and savoring excellent flavors, to pass through quickly!  Take a look at our photographic adventure:

The Italian Saint With an Irish Fate

St. Patrick's Cathedral, NYC

Ah, St. Patrick’s Day: the best illegal holiday in the country!  By illegal, I mean that it is not nationally recognized as a legal holiday in the U.S.  You would think after more than 300 years of celebrating, we could at least get the day off work or school.  No matter, it hasn’t and never will stop us from donning green and observing our Irish heritage if it’s part of our lineage, or just adopting an Irish background for the day.  I think you could argue St. Patrick’s Day is one of the biggest celebrations in American culture, spanning over several days and including countless festivals and parades.  Even with that being said, I’m not sure the majority of Americans know how the green day came to be, and who this so-called St. Patrick really is. 

St. Patrick is undoubtedly one of the most widely recognized saints in the world, always connected to Ireland.  Before he became a saint, he was Italian born in the country of Scotland.  Unfortunately, he didn’t travel to Ireland by choice with the dreams of entering sainthood.  He was actually kidnapped as a teenager and brought to Ireland as a slave until he escaped back to his Scottish home in his early 20s.  After becoming a cleric and having a vision to serve the Irish people, he returned to Ireland and the rest is history. 

Irish band at the Boulder, CO festival

St. Patrick’s Day, also known as the Feast of St. Patrick in Ireland, was originally celebrated as a deeply religious day of remembrance of St. Patrick and his work in establishing Christianity in Ireland.  March 17 is believed to be the day of his death.  Throughout centuries of observance, the holiday has become much more cultural than religious, eventually resulting in an annual one-day alcohol ban in the early 1900s which stayed in effect for 70 years.  Can you imagine not being able to indulge in a Guinness or green beer for our dear St. Pat?  I know I can’t.  In the late 1990s, the very first St. Patrick’s Day festival was inaugurated all in the name of tourism, and the holiday most closely resembled its U.S. counterpart and how we’ve always known it to be. 

"Baby Guinness" shooter

The American St. Patrick’s Day has always been a cultural holiday since Irish immigrants brought the tradition overseas solely to remember their home country.  March 17 and the weekend closest is one of my favorite times of year!  It definitely helps that I come from an Irish family, and the first time I experienced Guinness was in the homeland, but the main reason I love this holiday is that Americans, no matter their ancestry, adopt another culture, the Irish culture, for the day.  It might be a little over the top (I’m looking at you, Chicago, dyeing your river green), but that’s the best part! 

"Irish hot dog"

This year, I celebrated all weekend long starting with a quick visit with my O’Connor cousin in Denver.  We dined on whiskey cocktails and what I interpreted as Rueben eggrolls.  So good!  Sunday was the big day, however, back in Boulder, CO.  The only Irish pub downtown, Connor O’Neil’s, had a mini festival, utilizing the outdoor space behind the pub.  Guinness and green beer was flowing, an Irish band was jamming, a sea of green was jigging, and corned beef was warming.  I had my face airbrushed with sparkly shamrocks to match my green attire and with Guinness in hand I was happier than a leprechaun discovering the pot o’ gold (I couldn’t resist the Irish pun).  Festival food trucks introduced me to hotdogs topped with corned beef, kraut, and jalapenos, while I introduced friends to the “Baby Guinness” shooter: Kahlua on the bottom, Bailey’s on top.  They’re adorably delicious.  It was a day-long party lasting until long after dark, but it never waned and I was already looking forward to next year (I found out they celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in South Korea!).

Healthy Shepherd's Pie

I ended the celebrations with a healthy twist on an Irish classic: Shepherd’s Pie.  Instead of ground beef or lamb I used turkey, and I packed it full of spinach, green beans, peas and carrots, and the top was a mixture of pureed cauliflower and mashed potatoes.  It was a perfect way to recover from and conclude the green weekend.  Thank you, dear St. Patrick, for bringing Christianity to Ireland, and in turn, Guinness to America!

...and my most recent (2013), but certainly not the last.

My first Guinness (2004)...

The Frozen Dead Guy

Yesterday marked the final day of the 12^th annual Frozen Dead Guy Days festival in Nederland, CO.  It’s a weekend-long celebration incorporating coffin races, snowy “beach” volleyball, an icy polar plunge, hearse parade, and frozen salmon tossing.  I unfortunately got a late start to the icy festivities on Sunday due to some ice cold drinking festivities late Saturday night (oops!), but I did manage to catch a glimpse of some ice turkey bowling.  Participants were sliding a giant frozen turkey down a snowy lane with hopes of achieving a 10-pin strike.  It gave a whole new meaning to the bowling term “turkey” meaning three strikes in a row (which actually comes from the late 19^th century when bowlers would be prized with a live turkey for the three-strike scoring feat). 

So, why is it called Frozen Dead Guy Days?  Get ready for some Bizarre History 101.  The festival commemorates Grandpa Bredo, a Norwegian outdoorsman who would be 109 years old today had he not died of a heart condition in 1989.  Because of Bredo’s family’s strong advocacy for cryonics, and their dream of starting an “ice preservation facility” (to put it nicely) of their own one day, Grandpa was packed in dry ice soon after his passing and shipped off to California.  After four years of a liquid nitrogen bath, he was off to his current home: his grandson’s shed in the beautiful mountain town of Nederland, CO.  Sadly, his family was deported back to Norway in the 90’s, but Grandpa Bredo is still well-preserved and cared for thanks to his personal caretaker “Iceman”, and the local and international support that comes from the memorial festival.   

Even though yesterday was a chilly 30-degrees, the festival was a hotspot.  Two packed tents set the backdrop with persistent live music.  There were tons of sweater-clad dogs, flamboyant costumes, and dead-guy painted faces.  I, of 

course, was anxious to scope out the festival food.  While I did find the densest of deep-dish pizzas, marshmallow-cereal treats the size of bricks, and hot sausages smothered in cheese and sauerkraut, the fodder wasn’t the star of the show.  I think that award goes to the local beer and live music.  Several Colorado brews were in attendance and the crowd alone was a testament to the musicians’ popularity.  The aura surrounding the tiny town was incredible.  Everyone seemed perfectly content to stand in the cold with each other.  It was almost ironic how visible our breath was when we were there to remember a frozen dead guy.  The festival is called the Frozen Dead Guy Days, but it’s really saying, “We’re still alive, so let’s celebrate!”