I can make stuff.

I just made pumpkin muffins.

I mean, I got a pumpkin, cleaned it out, cut it up, baked it, pureed it, mixed it with pumpkin ale and a bunch of other stuff, poured the mix into a muffin pan and stuck it in the oven until it became muffins.

And they were delicious.

If you knew what a terrible cook I was, you'd understand: this is significant. Maybe I'm not a cook, but a baker. That must be it. I am a baker. I bake. Feel the power.

(Credit is of course due to seven cookbooks, the internet, my wife who was in the next room, and to whomever at Schlafly posted Andy White's Pumpkin Ale Bread recipe on Twitpic. Thank you, thank you all.)

Coffee Stout tapped today at the Tap Room!

Coffee Stout tapped today at the Tap Room!
Coffee Stout tapped today at the Tap Room!
Coffee Stout tapped today at the Tap Room!
Coffee Stout tapped today at the Tap Room!
Coffee Stout tapped today at the Tap Room!
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Pete Brown nails it. Again.

My favorite English beer writer wrote a post recently about the World Cup idiocy involving ABInBev and the Dutch brewer Bavaria. It's a rant to be sure, but it's not some casual AB bash. It's a story that is truly, as he says, scary.

I am so proud.

Check out this great story (and an even better video segment) produced by the BBC about local brewers reclaiming our city's beer heritage. The BBC!!

Somewhat less amazing, but nonetheless cool, is me in the Sunday New York Times. The Royale was listed as one of two bars to hit if you have only 36 hours in Saint Louis (the other being Fred's Six Feet Under), and there's a picture of me pouring beer for a few of my favorite people.

The Schlafly "Sale"

Everybody take a deep breath. The Saint Louis Brewery, makers of Schlafly Beer, is not, repeat, not for sale. For some reason, the owners thought it would be a good idea to let the world in on their inner workings a bit, and the story got all crazified. The owners are planning ahead--years ahead--for their retirement, and to ensure that the brewery doesn't end up in the wrong hands, the very long process of eventually selling the biz to senior management has begun. That is it. I'm not buying it, ABInBev's not buying it, some faceless investment bogeyman isn't buying it--the biz is staying in the family. Period. Now go have a beer.

iTap Soulard

Hooray for the International Tap House guys! For bringing good beer to the Chesterfield Valley, for being successful enough to open a second location, and for having the wisdom to open that second location in the City near my house. Methinks I will be catching quite a few World Cup games there this month.

Opens Thursday June 17th.

Almost forgot

There's a new Dave Bailey joint opening up downtown, next door to Left Bank Books and down the street from Bailey's excellent spot Rooster. The Bridge will be opening sometime this month. The Post has this blurb about it (http://tinyurl.com/y9g8u7v) and that's all I know. Dave knows his beer, so this "tap house and wine bar" should have an excellent selection.

January

Hello again. The holidays are finally over--well, The Holidays are over. Personal celebrations continue unabated, filling up my schedule like a dance card.

Like Burns Night at the Tap Room on Jan. 25th. Scotch ale, Scotch whisky, scotch eggs, bagpipes and haggis. And my mother-in-law drumming in the pipe band! Best way to start the new year.

Then there's my buddy Joey Finn's 30th birthday at some dive bar on the Southside. Joe isn't really my buddy, though--he's family. He's the seventh Thenhaus. He's the only non-blood relative who can walk into my parents house, grab a sandwich and a beer, park it at the kitchen table and watch the game and no one bats an eye. Happy birthday, brother.

Two more occasions at the Tap Room follow. The Royale is having their "Xmas party" there next week, and then Schlafly holds their annual Employee Reunion party the week after. Good thing it's one of my favorite places.

This month of fun winds up with my old man's retirement party. Thirty-four years and two months of working for the Veteran's Administration and now he gets to put his feet up. Which of course he won't do. He'll still be running around his back yard chasing my two-year-old, helping me put my house back together, and climbing onto his roof every Christmas to put the damn huge star up. Saturday the 30th, we'll try to get to sit down and enjoy himself in his own home, surrounded by all of us ne'er-do-wells, raising a glass in his honor. Congratulations, Dad. You made it.