Last night, Canetto and I went to the Dogfish Head beer tasting dinner with Leon and Amanda (heretofore known as L'Amanda because 1) everyone in Hollywood is doin' it and 2) who doesn't love a name with an apostrophe in it?)
L'Amanda, it turns out, were dressed identically to the authors of "She Said Wine, He Said Beer" that was passed around the tasting. They claimed it was not on purpose. We know better.
There were the usual shenanigans: someone asking if we had seen the "small wood" (a piece of the wooden vessel in which Palo Santo Marron is brewed that was being passed around). Amanda and I said simultaneously, "we haven't seen small wood since junior high." (Pause for laughter that never came...well, other than from us.) Also, Amanda had a boyfriend at the next table wearing an "I >heart< beer" button.
We also tried the 90 and 120-minute IPAs, the Immort Ale (my favorite, and not just because of the name, though it did have something to do with it) and the seasonal Festina Peche (preferred by the Indonesians).
This was all paired with about twelve tons of food. Which was nice, because the 83 pounds I gained over the weekend weren't enough. (A highlight was the portobello and sirloin soup.)
At one point in the evening when 1/2 of L'Amanda went to the ladies room, the host of the beer dinner made an announcement that he was going to wait for the "blonde in the red shirt to return from the restroom" before drawing the number for the door prize (Nationals Tickets). So, when Amanda came back from the restroom, the entire beer dinner was staring at her, and then broke into a round of applause. Now, this happens pretty often for Amanda (as she mentioned), but she was still a little surprised by it. None of us won the door prize, but Amanda did manage to convince Mr.-Beer-Dinner-Who-Noticed-Exactly-What-She-Was-Wearing that she deserved a prize for being such a good sport. With a little subtle urging from the other half of L'Amanda, she ended up with a Dogfish Head trucker hat, that she insisted on wearing the rest of the evening. (Hey, if the F-150's rockin' don't come a knockin')
Addendum 1: As hard as we tried, we never got Leon past the double-shush (our personal best is the triple)
Addendum 2: My liver needs a break.