Surly Barrel-aged Darkness 2015, with reflections on Darkness Day and other things

Editor's note: I wrote this about six weeks ago, on the evening of November 10, about events two months ago.What have I been waiting for? I don't know. Wait, I remember. I wanted to dredge up pictures from all the years of Darkness Days past. Too time consuming.Time to post. (Also, I wanted to make sure I was saying everything correctly, which is the constant struggle, and keep putting off the revisions.)

There have been ten years of Darkness Day, folks.
2007, 08, 09, 10. 2011, 12, 13, 14, 15, and this year, 2016. That makes 10 years of beer geeks coming together in the name of an incredible Imperial Stout.
I've been to them all. Was one of the first 10 in line early in the morning that December Saturday in 2007 when they first sold the bottles, and I've made my way there one way or another every year since.

My biggest regret is that I'm not a 9-5'er who can take a weekend off of work to hang out in an industrial park in Brooklyn Center to camp out and spend way too much on beer that I'm probably going to trade away for Whalez, Bro. (Clarification: that's not me, that's them. I am not that 9-5'er, with so much money to spare, and bottles to trade. For Whalez,Bro.)

Also, that I didn't figure out many years ago how to bike there, which isn't really that hard, it's only ten miles, if you know what you're doing. I slightly did this year. But, I still got a little lost and was late for first year volunteering for the event, assuring my right to purchase 6 bottles of the dark, delicious Russian Imperial Stout.

Self-Portrait photograph from my pouring station
on Darkness Day, October 15. My first time volunteering,
after attending every year since the start. 

And, oddly enough, this was the first year that no one needed to camp out. There were wristbands left when the line was done, for the first time ever. (Was it the date change, or something else, that kept the fanatics away?) I could have rolled in a few hours later and not spent 3 hours pouring beers, and still gotten my bottles. No matter, I enjoyed it, although it was, as they say, a busman's holiday, doing what I do for a living, for free.

I had my camera device on hand, and took some pics, but when I was freed from my servitude, the battery went dead. No pics of all my friends enjoying this annual event we all love. And that's what I enjoy most about the day, after getting my bottles, of course. The only pics I had were from my stand at the first serving trailer. That's where I had my view of Surly BrewMaster Todd Haug playing two guitars in a wizard's robe (or a monk's?), playing solo, at 11 am, at the start of the event. I wasn't aware of exactly what was going on.  I've seen him playing with various other bands, Powermad, Vulgaari, etc, but never solo. And this was a symphony I stretched my ears to hear, struggled to understand. It was a few days later, on Wednesday, as Jason and I were traveling up to Duluth, that we heard the news of his stepping down from the position he's held for 11 years and I knew at last what Todd was playing that morning. It was his his swan song to Surly.

That news was a shock to some, but not to me. I knew it was a matter of time, especially since his wife Linda's unexpected departure from the company, and it seemed that Todd waited to make it public until he could put that 10th Darkness Day beneath his belt. I only saw him briefly, and not Linda at all, unfortunately, (but I knew that would be the case), before I left the event. I hope it's not the last I see of the two of them. (The pictures attached prove that I'd get my chance.)

He means it with love, this I know.

Man. We take so much for granted. But the exit of Todd and Linda Haug speaks to changes within the corporate culture of Surly Brewing that led them both to go. In only a few weeks after that, the news came that the two are leaving the state to go to Chicago and work for their friends at Indiana's Three Floyds Brewing Company. It's heartbreaking and saddening and how we all wish they would have stayed here forever. Damn it. What happened?

Well, that's not for me to speculate, even as others go nutso over a picture of Omar holding Dick Leinenenkugel in his arms. We know that the brewery will do well with Jerrod Johnson and Ben Smith keeping their capable hands on the steering wheel, nothing's going south, nothing's going bad. For now. Will they be asked to brew recipes that will dilute the brand? Will there be less-Surly beers coming out of the Surly brewery? All in the name of pushing out product? These are the questions raised. I hesitate to speculate or come up with any conclusions out of my own imagination, but if I were to do so, I'd say a little of both. These guys will make some fun beers, that I can assure you.

Squeezing in a "selfie" with the two of them at their
going away party in late November. 

I will suggest that when Linda Haug was in charge of the restaurant / beer hall side of things, that she should have stayed in charge. She did put it together, and steered it towards success, She knew what the Hell she was doing. Everything would have worked out fine if it was just a Linda in the front, Todd in the back kind of production. Maybe someone else didn't like that kind of autonomy going on inside their house.

I recall the early days. It was only 10, going on 11 years ago, after all, and the word back then was "we'll stay this small." Those were wonderful times, before the rest of the drinking public caught on, and it was such a fun and inclusive club that was digging on Furious, and Bender, and Coffee Bender, and Cynic and Smoke, Darkness, SurlyFest  and such. It was as if we had this secret, this special thing that we supported, that we hoped would change the world. Until that changed, and the general public caught on and the pressure to brew more became too much. We want to have our Surly and drink it, too. We want everyone to be like us, and like the beers we like, but we want to be the only ones drinking. When a $30 million dollar brewery isn't enough, and expansion into other states means you can't make some beers like Wet because of lack of capacity, and you still can't make enough Furious, because it's all going to North Dakota and Nebraska, and Chicago. In the beginning, they were supposed to be making beer for us, that wasn't available here. Can't Nebraska come up with their own damned Surly?  South Dakota, what's your damned problem, step up, already, make your own beer, don't make us make it for you!
(I realize I sound like the hipster who establishes his cred by stating he liked that band before they were cool and popular.)

The question is posed in the minds of many: to boycott this Todd-less Surly, or not to boycott. That seems absurd. A few months ago, I had eight different Surlys on tap at Acadia, and thought that I would leave them all on until they run out and we have one left. My boss wondered if I did that because of Todd's leaving. No, not at all, just wanted to bring other local breweries back in, but that last one was Ten, and that meant if I kept my word I had to find replacements for Hell and Furious, which has never been off the taps at Acadia. And were the customers ever confused and perturbed! And, I've had one friend tell me she won't wear any of her Surly shirts anymore, but for Todd the Axe-man. (Oddly enough, that's one I don't own.) Also, my own sister nearly refused a pint of Simpsons Malt Scottish Ale I poured for her and said she was boycotting Surly because they didn't treat their head brewer right. But would folks have considered this boycott if they knew it all along,  that Todd didn't have a share in the brewery?  I doubt it. After all, it is the way things work at most breweries, though we don't expect that at places of Surly's stature and people of Todd's importance.

No, I will support them, and drink them and serve them as long the beer is good. It seems non-sensical to me. I won't jump on the bandwagon that says "it'll never be the same." No, no, it won't. But it will still be good. That's alright.

So, I feel this is a good time to open up a bottle of Barrel-aged Darkness. I only took notes on Darkness one time, when it was first released in 2006, from the tap at the Blue Nile. I never thought to take further notes on other vintages. I rarely drank them solo, usually with friends, when I'm not taking out the notebook, or clacking away on the the ol' keyboard. I have one and only one bottle of this and saved it for a year. And this year, at the Great American Beer Festival, it won a Gold Medal for barrel-aged beers. Surly beers have been so off-style for so long, it's great to see them win an award like this. And I've never tried it. Didn't get a keg of it at Acadia (a point of some contention. What, carrying the beer since the first week, ten years ago,  doesn't get us a keg? Boo.), never found it at any events, bars, festivals. Time to crack open and finally taste it.

Solid blackness, strictly Stygian, with a slim roasted, toasted ring of foam on top.

Nose is all types of richness, the thick of the bourbon, the massive malt, the charcoal and vanilla and marshmallow, the depths of the oak and caramel, the toffee and espresso and cocoa. Gigantic this one. A gargantua, an impressive mixture of all the blessings from the beer and the barrel. anise and molasses and whiskey and more.

In the mouth: Thickness. Richness. Depth. Deepitude. Coats the palate, pours over the senses, takes on every inch and spreads it's complexity for the tongue and the tastebuds to experience. Smooth, mellow, while deep, complex, rich and utterly satisfying. And something swells, something grows and builds within you while you imbibe this. This is absolute perfection. Everything comes together perfectly. Nothing is bigger than the other, nothing is greater than anything else.

Am I just reading things into this, because of other things on my mind, two days after the distress of the election? Am I looking at the drooling vampire bat on the label of this bottle and seeing the looming  disaster of our impending apocalypse? Is the bottle scaring me because the threat of four years of President Trump looms in the forefront of my mind?

Back to the beer, though: It is so good. Well-balanced, well-attenuated, great bourbon-y treated goodness. So good that it keeps every bad thing from the door. It strengthens and fortifies. It builds you up, and builds you up, and now you're solid. Solid as a rock. That's what this love is, that's what we've got, got, got, got got.

And it's damned delicious. Whoa. Got me quoting Ashford & Simpson instead of some Satanic death/gloom metal. Something's wrong with me, clearly.

I didn't want to drink this whole bottle by myself. But, I'm glad I did.

It's so good, so perfect, and so well, you know, put-together. This is my simple solace, in face of tougher times ahead. Wish I had another dozen bottles put away, but alas. I could only wait so long on this one, and the wait was worth it.

What do I predict for the future of Surly? Oh, I don't know. Maybe goodness, maybe greatness, and maybe the end-all, worse-all, of all times. There is so much going on in the local brewing community that a drop-off in innovation at Surly doesn't worry me that greatly. I'm glad they were there to get the whole local craft beer movement going, lit that spark, and set it on it's way. It's fairly true that without Surly, there would be no current brewing scene. And without Todd Haug, there would have been no Surly.

Darkness Madness Part Four

Here's the cover of this year's program. I wish I'd saved them all from year's past, but if you know me at all, you know I have a problem with stuff. Some would call me a packrat, others a hoarder. So, it's a small victory if I don't hang on to a scrap of paper for years. Each year they get more advanced in design and concept, this year they followed the label art and went with the zombie attack idea. However, Surly fans being likened to zombies isn't a tactic I'm espcially keen on, though I know it's all in good fun. Similar, and worse, things have been said about our rabid nature.

We're inside the event, the parking lot turned into  a party grounds. Looking back at the brewery gates, flung wide open. Tents out on the street sell merchandise, and food trucks vend mini donuts and all manner of meals. I do regret not shooting pics of the beer tents, and my volunteer friends handing me cups of deliciousness.

This one needs explanation, and I have none for you. Perhaps I should have asked the ladies why they were decked out as pirates. But, you know me, Mr. Shy Guy. I recall one previous year when Darkness Day happened the same weekend as a Big Lebowski convention, and attendees included Walters and Dudes.

Another one that cries out for an answer. Is this volunteer posing for me with this gesture, or am I just randomly catching him doing that while looking straight at me? Or is that his job, to do the Ronnie James Dio devil symbol in the middle of the event? Someone has to, after all. 

Now here's Cory, either biting his nails, or talking on his cell phone. Behind him, the line going into the brewery to buy bottles.

The last photo before I stopped taking picture is of Surly employee #3 Sarah,  here back to the music stage, not paying any attention to the rock, which seems so unlike her. Her band, God Came From Space, played first, and actually they were at the first Darkness Day. And this marks when it became amusing again to take pictures of people taking pictures.
And so ends another Darkness Day. Eight bottles of Russian Imperial Stout wait me at home, some for trading, some for saving. Though I do plan to open a bottle, along with the previous 4 next Sunday, with 6 lucky friends. This is something I've been waiting to do for some time. Stay tuned for a full report.

Darkness Madness Part Three

As fervent followers of this web-log know, the Bitter Nib is the place you can go for what I call the 3-Selfs: Self-reflection, self-doubt, and self-recrimination. Immediately after perusing and assessing these images, I think on how I did it wrong, all the pictures I didn't take, all the things missing that would make it a proper photo essay. Pictures of the brewery (and the incredible new rooftop mural), the lines, the signs, the free kegs of Moe's and Coffee Bender Omar traditionally rolls out (how did I miss out on them entirely? Too far back in line, maybe?)
It only took logging on facebook later Saturday night to see the kinds of photos my friends took, that I didn't. Photos of the triumpant smiles and the recently attached wristbands. Proud photos of the bottles purchased. Photos of myself with Omar or any of the rest of the Ansari clan. (Pictures with Naseem are just as sought-after  as those with his son.) Largely missing are any photos of myself at all, and perhaps that's for the best. And then, the friends I never snapped a shot of, because I just stopped remembering to do so, or, maybe my phone was running out of charge. A simple visit to their facebook pages shows a wealth of memorable images, such as the brewery crew being transformed into zombies, or the mayor of Minneapolis playing Hammerschlagen.
So without further doubt or recrimination, here's part three of four of the Darkness Day experience in pictures, as taken by me.

Angie is inscrutable. But, Lord, can she scrut when she wants to!

Dave is probably telling me about some incredible beer he just had (I have to thank him for saving a bottle of Foothills  Sexual Chocolate to open when I finally showed up at his table), while a grill roars on behind him.

Nate is espcially preparing for this long night's journey into Darkness morning, coffee cup in hand, pretzels around his neck.

Eric and his Wisconsin pal (damn me for a fool, but I'm horrible with names, especially when it comes to people I only see once a year or so), are trucking down the avenue, ready to enter the brewery gates.

One eagerly anticipated Darkness Day event is the running of the Haugs, as Todd (seen here on his fat-tired Pugglsey, by the other Surly) and Linda roar in on bicycle.

"Get out of my face, Al" Todd seems to be saying. No, he probably really is saying it.

Here, John poses in front of a wall of Surly cans, Furious and Bitter Brewer, just as Omar did on the cover of a recent BeerAdvocate magazine. We are in the brewery and in the long, long line for our bottles. Shelly brought my three to me, but I had nowhere to put them. Holding them all proved difficult, and one fell from my hands. Just another dead soldier in a powder blue night, to quote Tom Waits. With 2 bottles in hand, and a mess I left behind, the Brooklyn Center municipal liquor store clerk selling me my bottles was confused. "You already have two, though." "Yes, and now I want my six, please." Was it too hard to understand, or was I making it difficult for her?

Darkness Madness Part Two

Workers at a neighboring business were so amused by the goings on, they went to the rooftop to photograph the scene. This was just the first instance where I took a picture of someone taking a picture. Is that not hilarious?

Mike is a jovial fellow, brew in hand. He's sporting a Steel Toe cap, in addition to his Surly gear, always leading the charge in support of local brewing, with his wife Kari. Around this time, I opened a couple of bottles I brought along and shared them with friends, like Mike, who were nearby in line. Perhaps the Surly Smoke in his glass, last bottle of the 2009 vintage, is making him smile?

Jesse is plainly a happy camper, though we didn't camp. Our plan was to be there earlier, by 5 am, but there were complications. Chief among them, that Jesse went to Stub and Herb's Darkness Eve event, enjoyed far too many imperial stouts, and had to be awakened by my 4:55 am phone call. I, on the other hand, never went to sleep. Friday night's post about PBR was the last thing I did before locking up, and going straight home, to wait for his call.

Here's Reggie (whose name I hope I've spelled right), who may have some of my Surly Four in her Coffee Bender cup, and whose apprehensive gaze is perhaps due to the young lady coming in our direction, who also had an animal hat on her head. The other woolen critter was a badger, natural enemy to the seal on Reggie's head. Behind her, ...wait, is that guy peeing? Aw, come on! Don't do that! (I was actually encouraged to do that, but instead ran for the port-a-johns far away, and missed out on the wristbands. When I got back, my friends had theirs, and I jumped ahead to catch the volunteers doling them out, assuring everyone that, dude, I was back there, but I just had to go to the john, believe me!)

At this point, with our wristbands on, and our bottles assured, (after all the worry and fret, we were about 50 people away from the cutoff) I wandered up to the front and got a glimpse of what was going on at the tasting tables. On this one we have growlers, bottles, Sexual Chocolate, Canadian Breakfast Stout, New Glarus, Russian River,  Boulevard, water bottles, a program, cups, some Tyranena, Three Floyds, and who knows what else. I do. There's my glass in the corner, and that's Dave Anderson's behind it. So much great beer being shared!

Here's Andy, who does a great deal of work with Harriet Brewing, sometimes delivering kegs to me when I desperately need them. All around him, observe the tents, the campers and the folding chairs. Flannel and stocking caps abound, but, again, it was also 60 and sunny. It's autumn in Minnesota.

Meaghan gives a thumbs up, knowing bottles of Darkness 2011 are in her future.

And Margarita is beaming in comfort, keeping warm with wool and flannel, the sun's glare sufficiently thwarted, and surrounded by plenty of snacks and beverages. In the background, well, I never did figure out what that Beer Geeks truck was all about. Anyone know?

And here we have Daniel, posing next to a lineup of all the beers consumed by his crew.  There was an unopened Surly Five in the mix, and I was shocked by it's inclusion, as if an unopened bottle should stand with the dead soldiers...so I opened it. Mmm, Surly Five. There were many more lined up to capture these images, souveniers of their sumptous beer-y feast, and I began a series of photos of people taking photos, which apparently I still found amusing. I no longer do, so these pictures will not be shared here. Coming soon: part three!

Darkness Madness: A Photo Essay of Darkness Day: Part One of Four

Today was the 5th annual Darkness Day, when thirsty Surly fans convene on the brewery to procure bombers of the dark, dense, delicious elixir. Every years gets crazier and crazier. Year one, 2007, I was one of the first dozen souls in line on a cold December morning, having arrived with Ben around 6 am. There were 480 bottles for sale to 240 people. Wristbands which guaranteed your purchase rights, were available up until around 11:30 am. Evidence of this can be found on youtube. I make a cameo on one such video, making a terrible joke about the group nearly resorting to cannibalism, waiting so long in the cold. Nobody got the joke. We brought plenty of food, after all, and once Omar and the crew let us indoors, there were donuts and coffee. (And beer. I would be criminally remiss to forget to mention that each wristband had 3 detachable tabs, each good for a free beer, poured by Surly staff, family, and friends. Free. That needs to be emphasized again, to curtail the cries of the naysayers.)

Each year, no matter who I travelled with, we arrived around 6:30 am, and each year we were safely in line to get our bottles. And each year, it gets crazier. Now the trend of camping out in tents and trailers has grown exponentially. The first lunatics arrived around 1 pm the previous day. When Jesse, Billy and I arrived at 6:30 we couldn't believe how long the line went. It was unprecedented and amazing. This many were this early? Would we even be among the 1200 guaranteed to get 6 bottles?

I'll tell the story with the photos I took.
Check out Parts, 2, 3, &4, as well.

Jason is happy, even though it's still dark out. He and his sister Angie both agreed that their decision to stay overnight in line, starting at 9 pm, the previous evening was indeed a wise one, ensuring their claim on Darkness. In the background, the bridge that spans the highway, leading to the corporate headquarters of Caribou Coffee. Several people made the trek across on a coffee run. 

Joe looks happy, too, perhaps because the sun is finally out, perhaps because there is beer in his cup. It was  indeed a gorgeous, bright, sunny day, lovely weather for standing in line for hours, waiting to buy some Imperial Stout. Behind him, the industrial boulevard in Brooklyn Center known as Ducharme, that leads to the Surly brewery.

Jon seems happy, as well. Sunshine on his hat make him happy. Sunshine in his eyes might actually make him cry.  We could assume that sunshine on the water looks so lovely. But, assuredly, sunshine almost always gets him high.

Ben assumes a pensive pose. Who can know what goes on in his mind? Behind him, the line stretches  on.  These may have been the unlucky ones who did not receive wristbands. 

Eric seems glum. He was farther down in line than I, and was despondent regarding the possibilities of not getting any Darkness. Those of us who have been coming out here since the beginning did not like to contemplate swallowing a pill so bitter.

Shelly seemed like a potential savior. She only wanted and only brought enough cash for three bottles. If I couldn't get a wristband, here was my hope. She's bundled up tight, but I didn't feel the chill.

Another who felt the chill I didn't was Jeff, who shivered, even under so many layers. I've known Jeff for eight years, buds in the wonderful world of craft beer. Collecting them, seeking them out, writing about the experience on the palate, celebrating them. An aikido master and nature photographer, he's also been with Surly since the beginning, but I don't remember seeing him at a previous Darkness Day. Glad I did today.