Thursday morning opened on an absolute WBC first. Proof of the evergrowing importance of the competition, the judging could not have been ended in two days, and Chris Swersey had solicited the aid of volunteer judges for an extra morningsession of judging. Characteristically, all European judges, member of MGBJ, had immediately volunteered - small wonder, as it wouldn't make sense having travelled all those thousands of miles, and then refusing to play the game… And not unimportant, the organisation hence agreed to pay for an extra breakfast that morning. Why a room does not include breakfast automatically, is another American habit I don't quite dig. Not that I ought to have worried about food, really…

Immediately after the last judging, fever grew. The table at which I sat, was relatively early in its decisions (a full hour before the last table!), hence I saw the opportunity to visit the by then opened Exhibition. Not before lunch, however, because some generous firm had provided ample lunch at the habitual place. Better even, as quality seemed to go up daily - one day (forgot if it was Friday or Saturday), we even got Oriental spicy titbits that were delicious… as if to shame the organisation. So, Carl and myself went round the Grand Hall, together with Ann De Ryck. It was remarkable to see how differently a professional brewer goes around such thing - she kept asking for info at several stands, who were only too happy to oblige. Remarkable, I say, because 90% of the stands at a Dental Exhibition could sell as well crushed concrete as far as I'm concerned…

Whatever, exit was planned at 16.00 sharp, since Carl had secured another info, care of Peter Bouckaert. It seemed that the famous Frisco Toronado pub, was opening a second venture, in San Diego, and was inviting specific people to come over. By the time we found the assembly, however, Peter had gone with the wind (or a yellow cab), and only a long-time habitué (I still don't know the guy's name) of every imaginable beerfestival in the civilized world, was waiting for a taxi. Since the man had one for his own, he was only too happy to share. First indication that this pre-opening (the whole shebang was bare, for some wallbanks and the counter excepted, and technicians were mixing with the crowd), was what the French call so gallantly " un secret de Polichinelle" - a secret that isn't one. Half the Beercrowd seemed to be there: from Vinnie and Nathalie, over Dr. Bill, the full staff of New Belgium, to the local brewers and DenvernowCaliforniaLogan. If choice had to be more restricted, I was more than happy with a special Russian River offering for Toronado itself, and I snubbed the Westvleteren Dr. Bill was pouring.

So far, everything had gone to plan, but now, things seriously threatened to go haywire. Carl had thought judiciously to link our fortunes to Jeff Bagby, but with a typical SoCal flair, that gentle giant had himself seriously underestimated the possibilities of getting hold of a cab in San Diego… By the time he finally ushered us in a cab, the buses were on the brink of departure for San Marcos… Oh, I've lost you, sorry. Well, Thursday evening was going to be THE event of the week, barring maybe the gala: the official launch of (Isa)Bel(le) Proximus, paired with a giant gourmet-and-beer dinner, dreamed up, if I got that right, by the owner of the PizzaPort chain.

But those buses were parting at the Town & Country Resort, and NOT in uptown San Diego! Jeff swore he'd get us to the dinner, were it in the back of the brewery's pick-up. Thank God, nothing so drastically rural American was needed, as our bus, far from plenty, left in fact a full thirty minutes after the theoretical departure time. At San Marcos, only aperitif was in full swing, so the only setback was trying to find an as yet unoccupied chair, in order to obtain some food.

It still is a matter of marvel to me, how they fit that bunch of greedy eaters into the cramped space of Port Brewing, but somehow, they managed. It wasn't as comfortable for some as for others, but the quality of the offered was such, that nobody gave a damn. It was just great, and Isabelle proved a lovely girl, despite (or thanks to) her many fathers. Kuaska was included in the homage, seen that he was instrumental in the whole five-brewers tour, as well as the beer that was the offspring of that adventure. Remark: I still think nothing at LA/PB beats that Veritas…

It proved unfashionably late, when the buses put us back at the Resort. Not that bed was so inviting, the one hundred taps at the Pavilion, however….

Joris

2 May 2008

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