Tag Archive for brew pub

Mother Road Brewing and Deschutes Unite!

Mother Road Brewing and Deschutes Unite!

Flagstaff, AZ—Mother Road Brewing made the fatal mistake of informing The Daily Discord about an important event. On February 5th they combined forces with Oregon’s Deschutes Brewery to brew one spectacular Super Brew. It’s kind of like that Wonder Twins thing, but instead of rings they use vats. Wonder Twins activate, form of ethanol! Video preview at the end of the article!

And, yes, we will be releasing the entire video on this momentous day, theoretically soon. For some history, about a year ago there were only four brewpubs in Flagstaff. Mogollon Brewing recently closed, but three more cropped up in its place, which begs the question is slaying a brewery like killing the hydra? You lop off a head only to find more sudsy heads emerging in its place?

Hey, just be thankful I didn’t go with my original Mead-dusa joke. You would have immediately turned to Stone…Brewing.

Zano, anymore puns like that and YOU’RE FIRED!!


Pierce X. Winslow, CEO

Hey, I’m working here…

Anyway, it all started when the Discord crew attended the local Brew Ha-Ha on January 19th—which is also where we found and hired our new cameraman Greg, who hence forth shall be known as Greg!

Deschutes Brewery
Visual Design Studio
Alex Bone, Cokie McGrath, Mick Zano and The Pharmacists at Brew Ha-Ha
Alex Bone, Cokie McGrath, Mick Zano and The Pharmacists at Brew Ha-Ha

Yeah, I’ve been working out a little. Actually, that guy in the back tried to photo bomb us, so we showed him…by turning him into me! Take that, brew fest photo bomb dude.

I didn’t cover the Brew Ha-Ha for the Discord this year—not because it wasn’t fun—it’s just I’m getting lazy in my old age. If you want to get the true flavor of Flagstaff’s premier winter beer festival, check out my coverage from last year here.

Oh, but when my agency’s CEO made a surprise appearance this year, for my day job, I was just thankful the gang talked me out of my “great idea”.

“Hey everyone, let’s all run up to him and dump our beers on his head like it’s Gatorade and we’d just won the big game!”

Yeah, my friends…I’m kind of surprised they stopped me.

Meanwhile, at the Brew Ha-Ha we ran into the founder of Mother Road Brewing, Michael Marquess. He is already a bit too familiar with the Discord gang, but despite this fact remained shortsighted enough to tell us about his little Deschutes collaboration thing on the 5th. The idea was for Deschutes personnel to drive from Bend Oregon to Flagstaff Arizona and pair up with Mother Road as part of their initiative to support your local brewery.

Mike started brewing as a hobby in 2000 but now, 13 years later, his shiny new brewery was just recognized by the city of Flagstaff as the Business of the Year—narrowly beating out The Daily Discord, which has over 11 viewers, because our fans go to 11! Mr. Marquess was then presented with the key to the city, which in retrospect the Mayor now regrets as he got the town as far as Sedona before being pulled over by police. It’s sad, really, because no matter how big The Discord gets I can’t see the Mayor handing us anything. That bridge has sailed…or something.

We were able to corner Mike for an interview and here’s how it all went down:

Zano: I have only one question for the founder: why, night after night, do you serve this man (pointing to Alex Bone) when you know what’s going to happen? Isn’t doing the same thing over and over again the definition of insanity?

Marquess: My license states I have to treat and serve everyone fairly, even when he is—shall we say—less than himself.

Bone: (towering over both of us) I’m more than myself!

Zano: I just want to say, your black IPA is phenomenal, your recent Anniversary brew is phenomenal, you are a real up and coming brewery in this little town. Wouldn’t you say your black IPA is your signature beer?

Marquess: Yes.

Zano: Then please tell me how do you brew a black pale ale? That’s an oxymoron like jumbo shrimp or …wait, I have more. I prepared them (Zano reaches into pocket).

Marquess: We can argue all day about Cascadia ale, American black ale, so just call my beer Lost Highway—

Bone: I saw the movie Lost Highway.

Marquess: —keep drinking it, and we can agree to disagree on whether you can call it a pale, or black, or whatever the hell it is.

Zano: I love this man!

Marquess: We like you guys too, but please stop downloading that stuff you’re downloading off our free internet. I keep getting letters from my internet service provider.

(Our answer to this important accusation is best left to our video response. Hint: it involves dolphins.)

Alex Bone then interviewed Casey Carhart of Deschutes Brewery and asked him questions ranging from demonic possessions to zombie apocalypses. Bone isn’t well.

Alex Bone, Mick Zano, and Casey Carhart of Deschutes Brewery
Alex Bone, Mick Zano, and Casey Carhart of Deschutes Brewery

This is another reason I Iove Deschutes. Doesn’t this sound like the perfect event?

Deschutes Brewery

The video captures more of our antics and our ultimate ejection, but we really feel we accomplished some important work that day, or at least that’s what we keep telling ourselves… Our official apology to both breweries is included in the video, coming soon! Check your spam folder. Until then here’s the opening. Enjoy.

Beer and Frothing in Las Vegas

Mick Zano

For my last trip to Vegas, I decided to look beyond the flashing and blinking lights of Sin City and really rate this town.  Sorry, the blinking lights of Vegas are about as close to Christmas as you’re going to get here at the Discord.  The biggest hurdle to my destination came in the form of a brewpub, the Boiler Room, in Laughlin, Nevada.  This pub, constructed like the bowels of a giant ship, had a sign out front that read: Thirsty Thursdays: All Drafts 1 Dollar.  It happened to be Thursday and I was, in fact, thirsty.  Hmmmm.  I opened my wallet and implemented an old college equation.  A dollar a beer, so if I have eighty-dollars in my wallet…then that means I have…er, carry the one…a shit load of beer!

Wow.  This place is so much more inviting than the other sign that says:  Crab Cakes and Karaoke.  The stout at the Boiler Room was very good, and did I mention it was only a dollar?  Shortly into my trip, my plan to stop at three (and only three) places and partake in three (and only three) pints had already been completely blown out of the water (but only off by 77).  In fact, the beer was so good and so cheap, I considered staying there until Happy Thursday slipped painfully back into F-ing $3.75 a Pint Friday.  The dark time period known to the locals as Crappy Hour.

The back of this ship-shaped pub offered a nice view of the wrinkled mountains to the east.  The rocks around Laughlin are more interesting than the landscape around Vegas (as far as rocks go). It was hard to leave.  What helped my decision was the bartender’s suggestion, “Get the hell out, asshole.”

Actually, that was the first bar.  So, with a heavy heart and bloated liver, I drove the forty-five minutes northward to Boulder City.  The old town area had a nice wine bar and specialty beer shop with indoor and outdoor seating, a coffee shop/bar combo, a brewpub, and several other interesting joints.  At the brewpub, the Black Canyon Shitty Stout was somehow masterfully brewed back into something resembling dark H20. The outdoor seating and the service brought the place up a notch (thankfully). But I did not try any of the other beers out of a healthy fear.

The town itself did seem to have a chip on its shoulder, as the main reason for the town’s existence, Boulder Dam, was no longer called Boulder—thanks to one of our worst presidents ever.  The Bite Me Hoover Diner kind of spelled it out for me.

My last stop brought me to Barley’s Casino and Brewpub in Henderson—so close to Vegas you can smell it. In the same way ‘In Bed’ can be added to any fortune cookie fortune, Nevada has discovered anything can be paired with ‘And Casino.’  Apparently, even at rest stops, massage parlors, and laundromats.  Smog Busters and Casino should be coming soon.  Vegas is like a 50’s horror movie: It Came with Blinking Lights.  At Barley’s I ordered a double bock and, I have to say, it was the best double bock I’ve had in some time.  Somehow I managed to procure an outlet and a table, blissfully free of any blinking gaming thingies.  This is a scarcity in Vegas and, for my trouble, the security people immediately started profiling me.

Ah, he’s sitting at the table without any games…yeah, pretty seedy-looking. Doesn’t seem to be eyeing the scantily clad women or any of the flashing lights.  Should I apprehend?

Who works on their laptop in Vegas?  It’s a red flag the size of the Stratosphere.

Sorry folks, but I have a laptop and I’m not afraid to use it.  Of course, I couldn’t get online.  The state of Nevada, or as I have come to call it ‘connection problem’, has serious Wi-Fi issues.  Apparently, Nevada is an old Pauite Indian term meaning “connectivity issues.”  You see, way back when, Vegas had cheap everything just to lure you in to gamble—like a sequin-covered spider web.  Now, it’s top dollar for even Wi-Fi. Bastards!

Hey, a cigar shop!  Why not?

I pulled into the store that said SMOKES/CIGARS.  Walking across the parking lot, I realized this was not the best neighborhood. Hey, this joint is more about joints than cigars.  They had glass blown bongs of all shapes and sizes.  Their store facade should have said Reefer and Smokes.  For a necessary visual aid, the Ghetto Shaman should have been passed out in the doorway.  Then I would have gotten the message sooner.  Next to no cigars adorned their skull-bong filled cases. In this store, under the big red sign that read CIGARS, I had about four choices.  If I wanted a Swisher Sweet, dude, I’d have gone to the Circle K!

This misunderstanding tonight is the single most poignant argument for the legalization of marijuana.  With proper legislation, next time I won’t stop at the Garcia Palace when I am really looking for Humidor Heaven.

I looked around and immediately saw another cigar shop about a block away.  Cool. This town is gaining some points.  I decided to walk it.  As I approached the sign in question a sinking feeling crept upon me.  Bald Tony rarely has running water.  Then came a second, perhaps even more disturbing, thought, the sign over yonder was for the same cigar shop that I had just left.

SMOKES/CIGARS…you know, Reefer and Smokes.

As I walked back—the walk of shame—several groups of thuggy types were heading toward me when the startling realization crept upon me that: 1) I had more money in my wallet than usual (>5); 2) I should have drank more at the Boiler Room; and 3) if I were to die here on the way back to my car while walking toward the sign of the place that I had just left…well, it was then I realized:

I do not have nearly the insight one would expect for a person my age.

I survived.  The thugs were probably intimidated by my Batman T.  I was early, so I decided to hit one more place right by Bald Tony’s.  After making it back to my Impala, I pulled out my trusty Tom Tom and proceeded to make a nearly fatal mistake.  Never-ever search ‘Nightlife’ in Las Vegas on any GPS device.  Really.  Don’t.  The bitch actually started smoking.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to hit one more place before the Great Bald One gets off his shift.  So far Vegas rates an 8.  The scale, however, has yet to be determined…