Another spectacular omelette from John and his staff at The Old Stage Coach Inn, phone calls home to loved ones and then a big blue beer bag repack with the generous gifts from Vermont’s finest.
Highway driving through the beautiful scenery of Vermont’s snowy hills and mountains, heading for Maine.
The wonder twins bickered about driving skills and who was the worst at navigation and what the warning lights on the dash actually meant. Mik, quietly sat in the back of the Nissan Rogue, updating this blog, reading his book and wondering when and how the front seat antics would finish.
Sadly, Anne was off site, but had kindly let the bar tender know we were headed in.
One of the most well thought out and beautifully presented tasting rooms we have visited in all of our beer travels. Only recently opened, it was light and open, and very very welcoming.
Meeting Liverpuddlian expat Phil, the brewer, we handed over some of Ressa’s finest as payment for the tour of the facility.
A GEA three vessel 80hL brewhouse, a small batch DME 20hL system and a pilot system are just some of the toys they play with. A lab with some kit, that had Hamish pre spending money on presents for Mel and Alex back home.
Dinner, the beer, not the meal, was a delightful match to Lunch, the meal, not the beer. (Talk about nailing your beer names…)
All the beers are bottled and kegged, none of that can fad for this brewery.
Another example of great brewery generosity to us. Maine Brewing Co, you are always welcome at ours.
Back on the interstate, the wonder twins were bushed. Braving the wrong side of the car and road, Mik stepped up, accepting only Siri as his navigator, it wasn’t long before the other two were snoring in unison to the sounds of local radios hits of the 80s.
Driving to the dulcet rumble and The Steve Miller Band, Mik proceeded to teach other drivers his unique use of the vernacular. His volume at times, made deep sleep near impossible.
The scenery of Maine and New Hampshire gave way to the traffic of Massachusetts.
The outskirts of Boston, notorious for bad traffic. The pleasure in seeing a driver pulled over, waving her middle finger at the Highway cop, as he wrote out the ticket.
Seems to be on most beer tourists bucket list. We can tick it off. Four beers between the three of us, Guava (didn’t tell me that was coming) IPA, Stout and a couple of NEIPAs.
A peak past the bar at the brewhouse, a quick look at the merchandise/growler store.
Time to head for the Airbnb.
Mazen back piloting, Hamish calling the turns, the car returned to its preferred equilibrium.
15 Draper St, Boston, a pretty little house, in a gentrifying part of town.
Beds allocated, bags dumped, dinner.
Legal Sea Foods, Boston Waterfront.
Two of us enjoyed clam chowder, Lobster and Lobster rolls. The seafood allergic sales guy struggled through a steak. Red Sox on the TV.
Seemed like a fairly authentic New England dinner.
Bed blessed relief after a four state traverse and a lot of early mornings and long days.