Wow! I just have to say thanks, you guys. Seriously. Your response to yesterday’s confession was mind-blowing. Record page views, folks. (Which we all know = $$$$ for me.) Heck to the yeah!
Last night I went on a fantastic snowy trail run with Kate on the banks of the Indy Canal. (It is similar to that other canal that’s in Panama except its smaller, colder, it doesn’t form any kind of a neat palindrome and you almost never contract malaria or yellow fever there.)
I was still in my old shoes, and my knees and shins are a little twingier for it this morning (reinforcing my conviction that I’m ready for new shoes) but we still did pretty good.
Sidenote: Kate was in some brand-new, retina-searing neon orange minimalist Sauconys and she was off like a rocket; it was all I could do to keep up. So if anyone’s considering buying them, she’ll vouch.
The canal has a nice, long, packed-dirt path; it wasn’t slick at all, which makes it great alternative to road running when there’s snow on the ground.
Kate and I have gone on a couple of really fantastic runs lately. Sometimes we even call each other five minutes later on the way home just to exclaim one more time about how magical and incredible it was. She’s one of the few (nay, ONLY) people I can always count on to go running with me, no matter how terrible the weather.
I really do love running in the winter and prefer it hands-down to running in the summertime. Whereas once, I made excuses for not running outside (it’s snowing! it’s windy! it’s cold!), I now try to justify why it’s not crazy that I’m running outside in sub-freezing temps in blowing wind and two inches of snow.
The other benefit of the canal path is that it’s right next to Butler University’s Hinkle Fieldhouse, which is open late. It’s a great place to meet up, use the facilities and stretch post-run.
When I got home all I wanted to do was get warm and crack open a serious beer. And what better beer to crack open on a freezing cold night in the dead of winter than the 15% ABV Russian imperial stout to end all Russian imperial stouts: Dark Lord.
(Queue: creepy New Age Russian music)
For some reason, I failed to blog about it.
But I’m making up for that now.
When we tried it for the first time nine months ago, both my husband and I remember it being thick as sludge and pretty sharp. Strong tones of vanilla and molasses. Don’t get me wrong, it was very impressive; but the bite was a bit much.
Last night, we both could tell the hops had smoothed out considerably; it was even better than I remember it.
Now, how about some food pairings:
- Mix with maple syrup and use as a glaze for your oven-smoked bacon.
- Dark Lord Tiramasu (courtesy of the Hoosier Beer Geeks)
- Pour a splash in your morning bowl of oatmeal (if you’re man enough)
- Use in lieu of Kahlua for a White Russian*
And some ad campaign slogan ideas:
- Dark Lord: official motor oil of the Indianapolis 500
- Dark Lord: What Happened, I Blacked Out.
- Aches? Pains? Fever? Chills? Just One Dark Lord.
- Dark Lord: the icy peaks of Siberia without all that hopelessness and desolation.
- Dark Lord Brand Airplane De-icing Fluid: Don’t Leave Newark Without It.
I have two more Dark Lords at my disposal; one of them, I will save for future Dark Lord vertical tastings. As far as the other one? I’m thinking of having a crack at that Tiramisu.