The Mafia Beer

So I told my husband to grab me an import while he was at the bottleshop today. Actually we like to call them “specials”. As in: “you want a special as well or just the slab?”. We are so classy.

I was hoping for Kingfisher which is an Indian beer – according to my brother who is currently in India. He was bragging that a Kingfisher only cost him 75c! FWOAR!!!! 75c????!!! Jesus – never mind about not drinking the water overseas – you’d brush your teeth with beer at that price!

However, it was nowhere to be found at our local bottle-o so instead my husband came out with a Birra Moretti, which I instantly recognised as Amanda’s “Mafia” beer from a couple of Saturdays ago!

So, I’m about to steal her thunder and review it…

As the name suggests it is an Italian beer (Birra Italiana!). It’s a lager and is a fine drop I must say.

Got a nice clean “bite” to it. It is very crisp – although not as crisp and clean in taste as a Stella for example, or even as rounded as a Bitburger. I would call the flavour short – and by that I mean that there is no lingering aftertaste. Pretty much what you first taste is what you get. It’s a nice beer. Nothing wildly exciting to taste – but that also means there’s nothing to offend either! Very drinkable and would be delightful with a summery BBQ or seafood.

And it does have have a Mafia man on the front… although now that I’m looking at it sober and not in a dimly lit bar being mesmerised by the way the light reflects off the heavily tanned bongo player’s forehead, I realise that the man on the front looks a little bit too drunk to be in the Mafia.

That just makes Birra Moretti all the more attractive to me because there is one surefire way to advertise beer and that is to advertise that it gets you drunk!

Problem? What Problem?

Have you ever reached a point in your life where you’ve just stopped what you’re doing and asked “well, how did I get here?” (Some one should so write a song about that….)

You just wonder at what point did your life degenerate into such a filthy quagmire that drinkng before the sun is even up becomes not only a viable option but a damned attractive one?

I should set the scene before you conclude that I’ve finally slipped cheerily into the arms of alcoholism…

Yes it is 8:32 am. And yes I am indeed drinking beer. I would like to say in my defence that I don’t have any choice. You see, the day started for me with dear Felix barking his lungs up across the hall and then deciding that if he was awake – everyone should be and thusly shouting at the top of the lungs that I had previously believed had been coughed up. This all happened at 5:18am.

THAT IS STILL NIGHT PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I tried to go back to sleep. I really did. But it’s so hard when an 18 month old child has the uncanny ability to make noises that would put large gardening machinery to shame. And I’m talking stump-munchers here. So finally because I guess he felt sorry for me (and possibly because it didn’t look like I was going to ever get up) my husband rose to attend to the noise disturbance and left me in bed. I still couldn’t go back to sleep. I dozed. In between the thundering of toddler feet on the wooden boards in the kitchen and the sound of plastic-ware being reefed out of the cupboard and thrown at any object containing the most capacity for echo and reverberation.

So I got up. reluctantly of course. And now that I’m up, my husband has decided that he needs a bit more sleep so has returned to bed, (aw diddums!), and my son has eyes that look like piss-holes in the snow and is clearly exhausted so I’ve packed him back off to bed too… leaving me alone and having had only one coffee.

And as everyone is sleeping I can’t make another one because the grinding of the beans would wake people in the next suburb let alone people the next room.

It’s too early for anyone to be on Facebook.

There’s no way I’m cleaning at this hour.

So, I feel I have been left with only one choice: to drink a beer alone and whilst still in my pyjamas.

Bintang. An Indonesian Pilsener. Nice. Quite dry. Curiously refreshing at this hour.

In fact if any of you are considering alcoholism seriously, then I would definitely recommend this beer as a nice starter for you. Goes down quiet easily first thing in the morning.

There’s nothing really remarkable about this beer other than the time at which it is being consumed. But it’s good and I would have it again.

Possibly even at this hour.. if fact I’m enjoying it so much I’m considering making this part of my routine – screw the second coffee! I’ll just have a pilsener thanks!

And welcome to the hazy, neurotic world of drinking problems Jems…

Kegs And Mates

Last night I tried Bitburger for the first time. It was a lovely dry little drop. Quite hoppy and flavoursome. The reason I tried it was because our local bottleshop is having a competition to win a BeerMate but you have to buy Bitburger or Heineken to enter.

Aha! What’s a BeerMate I hear you ask? I know you’re probably thinking that you already have several BeerMates chilling nicely in the back of your fridge but this BeerMate is different…

We’ve always fantasised about having our beer on tap and enjoying a freshly poured 10 oz each evening. The thought of it makes me tingle. But the logistics are frightening. I can see why pubs are still operational because it would take an act of military precision to install a beer tap in the standard kitchen and keeping the keg cold creates a problem that would fry the brain of a quantum physicist.

Well, ok it IS possible but so much trouble that no respectable beer drinker could be bothered.

So the Sunbeam BeerMate is the answer to the age old problem of how to get a fresh icy cold beer poured straight from the keg in you own kitchen without having to turn your house into a pub and employ bar staff. It’s ingenious. And, in our society of the gadget-guzzling-consumer I guess it was only a matter of time before someone invented it and someone decided they needed to buy it.

Basically it’s a household appliance designed to hold a 5 lt keg and to chill – that’s right CHILL!!! – the beer at the same time. It’s about the size of a domestic coffee machine from what I gather and seems to be infinitely more useful! (Says she who nearly went spare without her coffee machine when it spent a week in the shop being fixed – some might say due to a problem caused by overuse…)

My addiction to all things stimulant aside… I think I would like to give this BeerMate thing a try. But at $600 a pop I won’t be buying one on a whim – think I might have to win one. Which means a lot more Bitburger!

Oh well – there are worse things a person might die of… like lack of caffeine…or a perfectly installed tap and no way of refrigerating the keg…

Not Sick, Just Sober

I have a sore throat like I haven’t had since I was nine.

When I still had tonsils. That were infected for roughly 8 months of the year.

There are things on the back of my throat that can only be described as “pustules” … and they look angry. Oh so angry.

So I’ve been duly miserable. Trying to take panodol every 4 hours not every 2 and living on throat lozenges. I haven’t been much fun. And the night before last – I couldn’t even face a beer.

Oh I know. The shame!!! But I just didn’t want to waste the beer on myself… if that makes sense. I felt a bit better last night so i thought I’d have a bevvy and see how I went… and you know what I found out?

I wasn’t that sick. I was a little bit sick and a big bit sober. When I woke up in the morning after tee-totalling I realised that:

a. mornings are far more shit than I could ever have imagined


b. this is how most people wake up every morning:

alert… hydrated… cheery…

OH MY GOD MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So here concludes this evening’s post. When you’re feeling poorly – too poorly to drink – just stop and think, please, that it’s not so much getting you drunk, but more preventing you from being sober.

And if you’re feeling crap, the last thing you want to do is feel crap and feel crap sober…

BBQ Time

I usually have something sarcastic to say. But not tonight. Tonight I just want to say how wonderful summer bbqs are. They are the epitomy of peace. Meat burning on the searing plate. Beer going warm in your hand, although not warm to start with

Tonight we had a summer bbq. It’s only spring, but it was a summer evening, the three of us sat and ate our fatty, gristly meat together, grinning through charcoal crusted teeth, squinting into the setting sun.

It was great. It was just how I imagined parenthood would be. Before I actually had a kid and then realised I would never eat a hot and/or complete meal again without a serious case of indigestion and a nervous twitch in one or both my eyes.

Anyway. It was lovely.

A moment to be treasured.

I’m just grateful I’d only had one beer so I can actually remember it…

Warm Beer?

Lately I have taken to drinking beer warm. Body temperature warm.

Not by choice, but just because that’s the only way I can manage to consume an entire can. It’s kinda for the same reason that I can’t seem to drink a cup of coffee while it’s still hot and not starting to resemble cooling tarmac… because I can’t seem to get to either of them in time.

I have taken on a new project which is to sew handbags and cushions for a funky new homewares store that is due to open at the end of November. I’m really exited about it because it’s a huge oppertunity for me. And it sounds so perfect doesn’t it? Being creative, working from home where I can tend to my delightful family, keep house, and generally be domestically goddess-like…

uh, right…

this is what my house looks like at the moment:

the living room looks like an illegal sweat-shop – except there are more breaches of OH&S, on top of the carpet there is another carpet made entirely of cotton threads, the bathroom is so fluffy it has now become an intricately woven mohair jumper, something smells like it has died in my kitchen (it probably has), Felix’s sheets actually stripped themselves and hopped into the washing machine in disgust and there appears to be a small family of badgers living in the pile of clothes next to my bed…

Also at this time when everything dangerous in the house has to be out at once – ie scissors, needles, pins, sewing machine, prozac – Felix has decided to wholly become his alter ego: Accident Man.

So, in between sewing my creations and attempting to keep everyone from coming down with scurvy, I find I am also losing a little bit more of my sanity every time I hear a crash and the inevitable pain-scream.

I have started just scooping Accident Man up and automatically putting a towel over my shoulder because inevitably there is blood and I’m sick of having a permanent shoulder pad made of blood, tears and booger.

After the screaming has died down and I have restored some semblance of order to the house, this is about when i realise I had made myself a coffee 2 hours ago. And, now, this is truly indicative of how my standards have plummetted since beoming a parent, I just think – Oh! A coffee! It’s stone cold, but at least i don’t have to make one now!

And I drink it.


And I don’t care.

So, it’s the same with my beloved beer. When once i would have turned up my nose at anything less than freezing in temperature, now my first thought is – I KNEW I’d left a beer around here somewhere – WOO-HOO!!!

Just between you and me, I’ve been scouting about the place this morning – looking beneath the cotton thread carpet, in between the illegal sweat-shop workers and the family of badgers – just in case I did leave a half drunk beer somewhere around… coz I could really go a beer now.

Even if it is warm and starting to ferment into something else…

Drinking and Writing: Achieving the Impossible

Oh wow I am the worst blogger in the world! So many months so little time! I think this basically proves one thing though – I am a MUCH better drinker than I am writer!

So basically I have spent the entirety of the last 3 months drunk and have totally lost track of time. I’m sorry. Forgive me. See – you teach a toddler to fetch beer from the fridge and it works a little TOO well!

I’ve mainly been drinking my dear old Cascade Draught, occasionally a pint of the black stuff (you can’t drink a pint of Bovril!), a pint of Pale Ale, a pint of Moo Brew (thankyou Dave you are a sweetheart!) … the common factor here seems to be the overuse of the word PINT.

Now I have had an issue in the past with the pint – it’s too big, gets too warm and is too hard to hold. But I’ve found that when I’m out with people who are drinking pints that drinking a pot is silly. You can’t go in a shout. You need tweenies. And you feel like a total twat-head.

So the morals of this story are:

a) Don’t start a beer blog if you actually intend to drink beer for 12 hours out of every 24

b) You must drink out of the biggest vessel made available to you at all times


c) I should not be allowed to drink without a minder

(that’s more of a mental note to self thing, but maybe one of you might care to remind me of it before the inevitable truckload of trouble finds me next time I am drinking in public)