In her altared state The Department of Morality is sacrament savvy; she can converse on biblical verse until the holy cows come home. Me not so much. When it comes to Sunday service I’m the chauffeur and bag man, I drive the car and bring the cash because let me assure you our church accepts all denominations. But I must confess that my favourite church is nestled away in quaint Niagara hamlet of Virgil, that being Silversmith Brewery.
I’m not sure about a Sunday sunup service at Silversmiths but the sundown service is top notch most evenings of the week. And the brew du jour they’re serving up is an Altar Ego IPA, a member of their Ecclesia congregation. *
This service was a heady experience.
No golden calf or any other part of a sun soaked surfer’s anatomy, this is a hazy orange golden rule of a pour. A dense two finger froth of foam is the head of this church. That dense foam can’t contain the juicy tropical aroma wafting from here to the hereafter. First taste is tropical juicy smooth, with a wet slick mouthfeel, worship worthy. The juice goes to mild hops and pine bitters, but the juice is definitely the topic of today’s sermon and the message is clear. Full flavoured juice, a touch of funk and some subtle bitters, the word heavenly comes to mind.
And the head stayed the course from first seating through to the end of the service. Silversmith calls this one “tenacious and tropical”, I would tack on tasty as well.
After a few of these brews I’d be in an altared state of my own, but the next morning my salvation may be those two Tylenol tablets that Moses brought down from the mountain way back in the day.
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