Like its milky, viscous cousin pulque, mezcal is made from the fermented sap of the maguey plant, a form of agave. It tastes smokier than tequila and can sometimes be found with a large larva worm floating near the bottom.
Some believe drinking it can help control hypertension and diabetes, while others would rather think it’s an aphrodisiac. In Oaxaca, it’s traditionally served with a side of fried larvae.
There are many bars and stores selling mezcal in Mexico but the most popular and trendy spots are in Mexico City and Oaxaca, a region where many of the finer spirits are produced. You can take a tour of a distillery to find out how small-batch, artisinal mezcal is produced (yes, sampling is encouraged!).
Check out Corazón de Maguey, Los Danzantes, La Botica, Mexicano and Muruka in Mexico City.
Ah, Aspen… Loved by celebs with private jets and people with so much money they could buy the whole mountain if they so desired. But for one week each winter, this mountain resort turns into the biggest LGBTQI party you might ever encounter, and at Aspen Gay Ski Week there’s as much action off the slope as there is on.
Après-ski hot-tub ragers, friendship dinners, art nights and dance parties take over when the hikes, downhill costume parties and bootcamp classes are done for the day. There’s also a (slightly) serious side: all money raised during the festivities goes to the Roaring Fork Gay and Lesbian Community Fund, which supports ventures promoting tolerance, understanding and diversity.
No matter what time of year you get the bug to strap on the skis (or the board), you can take to Oregon’s Mount Hood. Here, you’ll find Timberline Lodge at about 1,200 metres.
During the summer months (from June to September) you’ll find plenty of skiers higher up the mountain at Palmer Snowfield. The best part is you can get up early to do a bit of skiing, then head down to Portland for some craft beer and doughnuts, or go a bit further to enjoy the amazing coastline. Take in artsy Cannon Beach, wander the promenade at Seaside or catch a wave at Indian Beach.
Pack your wettie and your skis and take off on a thrill-seeking Californian day trip. Spend your morning surfing the friendly Bolinas break locals have tried so desperately to keep secret (they remove road signs almost as soon as they’re put up), then buckle up for the four-hour drive to Squaw Valley, host of the 1960 Winter Olympics. There’s no need to rush – runs are floodlit by night, giving you plenty of time to ride the legendary slopes.
While some wring their hands at the mention of shrinking glaciers, a beautiful side-effect of glacial retreat peppers Alaska’s Prince William Sound. A 16-kilometre trail of ever-changing ice sculptures graces the bay, creating a striking landscape best explored by kayak. It’s a two-hour water taxi trip to the Columbia Glacier, but keep your eyes peeled along the way for seals, sea lions and, if you’re lucky, whales.
When you arrive, swap the motor for a paddle and coast around the vibrant blue shards, listening as great chunks of ice crash from the terminus of one of the world’s most rapidly changing glaciers. Scientists predict its retreat will halt in the next five to 15 years, when it will stabilise and cease shedding.
With events including coffin racing, a hearse parade and frozen turkey bowling, Frozen Dead Guy Days seem more like a scene in a Tim Burton film than an annual festival in the quiet mountain community of Nederland, Colorado.
Dreamed up by a cryonic-crazy family that has kept its Grandpa Bredo on ice for years (and across continents), it’s hard to decide if the story behind the festival or the festival itself is more bizarre.
For some, getting choppered to the top of a sheer drop and left to find your own way down sounds like a very bad and somewhat dangerous joke. But for thrill-seeking downhill adventurers, heliskiing is the last word in must-do experiences.
There are a number of operators in Alaska, but we’re into Alaska Heliskiing. Why? Because while the operation is located right on the Canadian border near Haines and ventures to places with runs you can usually only dream about, it’s also got a huge range of options, including some for those who may be light of pocket. For instance, you can go for the whole package – seven nights in a fantastic lodge, 30 runs in the heli, everything included – for about US$6,250, or you can do a day in the big bird for about US$1,050.
Of all the gin-soaked snow slopes in all the USA why would you choose Heavenly? Its eye-popping location on the shores of sapphire-blue Lake Tahoe doesn’t hurt, but it’s the nightlife that sets it apart from the country’s many other ski resorts. Because it’s located in both California and Nevada, there are enough casinos – and all the cheap entertainment and drinks that go with them – to stop you from sleeping. But even if you prefer to stay away from that sort of action you can’t miss one of the most outrageous parties on the slopes.
Unbuckle at Tamarack Lodge runs for just two hours each afternoon, but in that time gets real hot and sweaty. Shake it off with the Heavenly Angels dancers, imbibe some half-price drinks, pose in the photo booth, then ride the gondola back down to South Lake Tahoe. You know you want to.
There was no denying the cinematic setting. Lush, leprechaun-green hills as far as the eye could see launching into a cobalt-blue ocean. Abundant sunshine only made it all the more panoramic. That the backdrop was the swanky Lodge at Torrey Pines resort in “chill, babe, it’s San Diego” only punctuated the life-is-good moment. The occasion? A bites-and-brew Beer Garden celebration of the city’s delicious and famous craft-beer scene.
Then some guy said, “I don’t like beer.”
OK, not entirely expected. This is a city, after all, that’s managed to blow those Budweiser horses off their slick advertising double trucks by cultivating an Evel Knievel culture of I-dare-you-to-brew-that handcrafted beer. A city where the once marginal and now legendary Stone Brewing Co.’s Stone IPA (Indian Pale Ale) slides down a bar just as fast as a Ballast Point Victory at Sea Chocolate and Coffee Porter.
Those beers, and just about every variety in between dreamt up by San Diego’s redoubtable craft breweries, are the focus of San Diego Beer Week, held annually during the first week of November. “When we started San Diego Beer Week in 2009, we were hoping to share our unique brewing scene with locals,” Matt Rattner, president of Karl Strauss Brewing Company and board member of the San Diego Brewers Guild, confides in me. “Five years later, we’re internationally recognised for our innovation, quality and collaboration.”
The event now spans 10 days and takes place all over the city, from local boîtes and spiffy tasting rooms to assorted breweries for beer-pairing dinners.
My first discovery during my first Beer Week this past November was that, in San Diego, beer is as vaunted as wine. Arrive with the idea that beer is trashy, not as posh as wine, and you’ll be chased out of town faster than a bartender can pull a pint.
Which intrigues as to why someone in the midst of this fermented demimonde might exclaim they’re not into brews at all. Luckily his attitude is inconsequential to the brewers and bystanders who realise all this guy needs is an education. The civilised response? “You just haven’t tasted one you like yet.”
Tasting a beer you like, much less sourcing one, is not a problem in San Diego. Unlike conventional breweries or even other cities that have raised a ruckus over their craft beer, San Diego is the capital of cockiness. If it blows or grows, you can be assured a brewer here is throwing it in a vat hoping for a palatable lightning bolt.
A beer for breakfast here is not out of context. In the woodsy garden grotto of Karl Strauss – on a Sunday morning no less – I lingered over a feisty brunch tamped down with a Peanut Butter Cup Porter. “We threw in cocoa nibs and a bunch of roasted peanut powder,” explains Karl Strauss brew master Paul Segura. “It fell short of what we’d anticipated. So we threw in another bag of the powder – figured what the hey, let’s see what happens.” I wasn’t the only one who left with a growler of the velvety, deep-roasted peanut and cocoa brew, evidence that the prevailing wisdom of run-it-up-the-flagpole-and-someone’s-bound-to-salute approach works here.
That was echoed in Ballast Point’s spiffy new Little Italy–located brewpub. Here, ‘pub food’ means serious eats turned out by Colin MacLaggan, a Le Cordon Bleu–trained chef. At all hours the sleek, bright pub and trendy cafe hybrid is packed. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” jovial brew master Colby Chandler assures me as he directs my gaze to the LCD monitor above the bar with a beers-on-tap display. Ballast, like most craft brewers here, encourages employees to spin the hopper and go all in with an original brew. With that in mind, Chandler hands me an Indra Kunindra Curry Export Stout. “Beware, it’s spicy,” he warns. Too late, it turns out, since I’ve been hit already with a slightly noxious-yet-fragrant burst of Madras curry, cumin, cayenne, coconut and kaffir lime leaf. It’s potent, refreshing, tingling and dizzyingly aromatic – in short, a beer that would call to the carpet even the most Indian food averse.
All of this was just a warm-up for the uber beer pub experience: the new Liberty Station compound of Stone Brewing Co. – a name now synonymous with San Diego craft beer. At 2200 square metres, it’s a candidate for its own postcode. It’s so huge I got lost. The former military barracks in Point Loma has a rough-hewn-meets-Rem Koolhaas vibe that effectively masks its capaciousness yet doesn’t mask the brilliance of the beers. Yeah, the go-to Stone IPA is here, but so are scores of others, including the Suede Imperial Porter, a collaboration with Oregon’s 10 Barrel Brewing. I felt it only right to slide towards the truly far out, an altruistic IPA Stone created for Operation Homefront (a military charity organisation). An orange peel brew that’s hopped with Chinook and Cascade varieties then rested in fermenters atop maple Louisville Slugger baseball bats, the beer is, well, woodsy. In a good way.
It was in the spirit of embracing such beer bombast that The Lost Abbey’s marketing guru Adam Martinez slips into the conversation. “International beer enthusiasts love this week because it’s a chance to be part of the San Diego beer revolution,” he says. “Better yet, they get to taste what it’s all about. They have a chance to meet with all the brewers in intimate settings, ask questions, and learn the inspiration and method behind the each beer.”
My beer initiation wasn’t all drinking. It wound down in true San Diego tradition: sailing. So prevalent is San Diego’s nascent alcoholic local treasure, it comes as no surprise the captain of my little skipper was a burgeoning hard cider brewer, who regaled me with tales of his garage-based operation while expertly navigating tranquil Mission Bay. The boat danced upon the water, a bright sun overhead, as we heartily parsed the sublime marriage of roasted pumpkin stout and homemade crème fraîche gelato. It was the basis of a craft-beer ice-cream float at Mike Hess Brewing’s beachside beer-pairing dinner the night before at Paradise Point Resort’s Baleen restaurant.
From there it was back home to celebrate Thanksgiving and the home stretch into Christmas. The season was spiked with a reminder of my recent education: Karl Strauss’s Four Scowling Owls, a citrusy, spicy Belgian ale (diggin’ that toasty note finish) and cult favourite Green Flash’s seasonal Green Bullet Triple IPA, which takes its name from the bitter New Zealand hop. I can assure you, after a swig of each or both, champagne is an afterthought.
By the way, the guy who foolishly declared he didn’t like beer? Guilty as charged. I stand not only corrected but also enlightened. Come November, when it’s once again time to mingle with the beer collective in San Diego, I bet I find myself on that same stretch of rolling green on a sunny Sunday afternoon. At which point I am sure I will exclaim, “I can’t find a beer I don’t like!”
The A, B, Cs of Miami: Art Basel. Bikinis. Crockett. Miami for the masses has always been a heliocentric, hedonistic party zone where chiselled bodies in hot-pink Sperrys fist-pump to killer house music. This is a town filled with epic beach parties and cavernous nightclubs; a town where gravity seems to have no effect on women’s breasts. While a classic night out here might mean drinks at the Delano, dinner at Casa Tua and dancing at Mansion, there is much more to this place than what’s on the postcards.
At the city’s core, you’ll find a style of nightlife that is delightfully and uncharacteristically Miami. Smoky speak-easies, urban disco galleries and island hideaways are all awaiting discovery. This is where you’ll find those drive-through liquor stores, delicious sandwiches at petrol stations, the red to-go cup, and the people who actually reside here. On a friday night we said to hell with reservations, the velvet rope and the all-mighty guest list and went exploring a different type of Miami. This is darkest Miami, after dark.
6.30pm
It may seem early, but at Fox’s Sherron Inn, it is perpetually 9pm. This dark, hard-to-find hole-in-the-wall is the perfect place to start a night of Miami intrigue. Sidle up to the bar and let only the light from the backlit stained-glass fox illuminate your Rusty Nail or Harvey Wallbanger. There are potent two-for-one drinks, T-bone steaks and hearty nachos and, if you’re lucky, you’ll hear Peggy, who has seen and heard it all, tell one of her jokes. For your consideration: “What do you get when you cross a donkey with an onion? A piece of ass that brings tears to your eyes.” It’s funnier after two whiskeys, trust us. Fox’s Sherron Inn 6030 S Dixie Highway, South Miami
8.00pm
After being submerged in a classic 60s throwback for a couple of hours, it’s common practice to shock your system with a little Latin love. It could never be denied that Miami is as much Latin as it is American, and the two are actually inseparable. Barú Urbano is a perfect example of this fusion. With ceviche, street art, caipirinhas and club music, this lounge/restaurant/club has a bit of everything. Barú is the kind of place Warhol would have visited if he was in Ibiza circa 2002. If that doesn’t make your head spin you should try the specialty rum drinks. This place is a triple threat, having tasty tapas, a DJ who seems to only play songs you danced your ass off to while backpacking through Europe, and a wait-staff so hardcore and good looking you can’t tell if they are going to seduce you or mug you. Barú Urbano 3252 NE 1st Avenue, Suite 124, Midtown barurbano.com
9.30pm
Yep, this place would be ordinary… If you were standing on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg. In Miami though, Blackbird Ordinary’s little bit of Brooklyn-off-Brickell is a very welcome addition. Jenga and Battleship, live music and pork sliders, craft beer and perfectly put-together pasty white people make this joint a cathedral to hip. Blackbird is a city in its own right – you can get lost with a party of friends in giant booths, move around its endless bar or head outside to its alfresco arena and let the stars dance with you. It’s a jovial place, full of friends who’d rather talk than shout over club music, with plenty of room to spread out, get into an argument about selvedge denim, or cultivate some new Instagram followers. Blackbird Ordinary 729 SW 1st Avenue, Brickell blackbirdordinary.com
11.00pm
While the island of Cuba has made its indelible mark on Miami’s culture, there is another island that has some treasures to be discovered. After crossing the sexy MacArthur Causeway, many would drive right past Tap Tap, a Haitian stronghold marked only by a high neon sign. It is, however, as close as some will get to taking a trip to Port-au-Prince. The live music downstairs will syncopate with the beats of your heart as you fall in love with this vibrant feast for the eyes, ears and belly. Eat tasty Haitian delights like zepina nan sos kokoye (spinach with coconut sauce), kabrit nan sos (tasty goat stew) and pwason neg (blackened fish). The bold will have an icy-cold natif – part caipirinha, part anaesthetic – or three, which, combined with some high-school French, should give you a chance at understanding the menu. But have no fear: the staff here is friendly and engaging, and will have your belly full and soul warmed in no time. Tap Tap Restaurant 819 5th Street, Miami Beach taptapmiamibeach.com
12.00am
Mac’s Club Deuce is the kind of place your mother warned you about. Cigarettes, Johnny Black and a jukebox seemingly stocked by Johnny Cash himself have made it an institution for good-time guys and gals. Beach kids rub elbows with rough necks and trade stories about old lovers, missed chances and big scores. We’ve been told Deuce is where bartenders go to die – a sort of Valhalla for the keepers of our innermost secrets. It’s the perfect place to turn one hour into three and end up with a new posse of friends. Mac’s Club Deuce 222 14th Street, Miami Beach
3.00am
If you can make it across the street from Deuce then you are sober enough to get inked. Tattoos by Lou is not your ordinary parlour – it’s a Miami tradition draped in neon. If you have a reason, and enough gumption, sit down with Chief (yep, Chief is his actual name) and let him put some art on your canvas. Then, no matter what happened at the five other places you just visited, you’ll have a permanent reminder of your Miami night out. Tattoos By Lou 231 14th Street, Miami Beach tattoosbylou.com
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