These are the words, images, and beers that inspired the GBH Collective this week. Drinking alone just got better, because now you’re drinking with all of us.
READ.// “The thing about Duolingo that replicates the real process of learning a language, then, is not the kindly-soccer-coach aspect that promotes the small and accumulated daily doing of a task, but rather the outlandish cruelty that inspires memes. Perhaps Duolingo the emotional manipulator is artificially recreating what it would feel like to get laughed at by French people every day all day for a year and fail to make friends because the skills I learned as a child in English are unavailable to me as an adult in French.” I have a love/hate relationship with Duolingo, and that damn green owl certainly doesn’t help. In a piece for her newsletter, Griefbacon, writer Helena Fitzgerald breaks down why that might be, and why growth and pain are usually intertwined.
LOOK.// The art of self-proclaimed frog queen, Kezia Harrell, is all about being body positive, nature positive, and generally just positive. Their Instagram features their paintings, inspiration, and general musings.
DRINK.// Brato Brewhouse & Kitchen’s Barley Whine
Opening anything during a pandemic is hard. The somewhat antiquated brewpub model proved to be particularly tough going for Brato, which just recently started canning. I’m glad they did: This was probably the most enjoyable Barleywine I’ve had in quite some time. Not too hot and dense, it almost reminded me of a Doppelbock. I enjoyed it straight from the can during a Fervent Few Zoom hangout.
READ.// “I’m stalked by a smell. It’s lurking in my kitchen, in my bathroom, on my breath. It settles on the surface of my coffee and, sometimes, my skin. I can smell it in my perfume and all the food I eat. Most days I think it’s onion, but it’s also close to garlic, or gas, or garlic cooked on gas.” I’m beginning research on a future story about smell loss, COVID, parosmia and phantosmia, and how we’re all reconsidering the formerly least-valued sense these days. This story by Katherine Cowles in the New Statesmen captures the surprising weight of the pain and uncertainty that accompany smell loss, which so many COVID patients are still grappling with.
LOOK.// Right now, a brutal, late-season cold snap is devastating vineyards across France, particularly in Burgundy and the Loire, but even as far south as Bordeaux. It’s terrible luck at a terrible time, but in their own somber way, winemaker Marthe Henry Boillot’s photographs of the vineyards at night—each gridded with small fires made by the growers in a desperate attempt to keep frost and ice off the vines—are moving, and beautiful.
DRINK.// Nightingale Cider Company’s Falstaff Bramley
I was recently invited to attend a Zoom tasting hosted by Sam Nightingale of the eponymous family cidery in Kent, England. I have been admittedly slow to wake up to cider, but I was really taken with the nuance, refinement, and accessibility of Nightingale’s line. My favorite was the Falstaff Bramley, a “semi-dry,” wild-fermented sparkling cider made with its two namesake apple varieties. It tasted almost vinous to me, and I look forward to drinking more as the weather warms.
READ.// “It’s like a whole new math. I have more time and fewer obligations, yet I’m getting so much less done.” I’m very happy to have something in common with the writer Susan Orlean, even if it’s only pandemic burnout. This piece by Sarah Lyall is probably similar to several other essays about hitting a wall, but I don’t remember any of those, thanks to the fugue state I’m in.
LOOK.// Gross Movies, the Fervent Few film club, recently watched “I Come in Peace” (aka “Dark Angel”), a 1990 masterpiece about renegade cops, aliens, and deadly CDs. It is a total mess and currently available for your pleasure over at YouTube. Enjoy.
DRINK.// Staropramen’s Cool Lemon
I know, I’m doing pandemic wrong, but I’m drinking a lot less alcohol lately. Somehow it doesn’t feel like a challenge when you have something good without booze to look forward to after work. I truly enjoy the non-alcoholic radlers from Prague’s Staropramen brewery, especially the lemon and grapefruit versions. Bring on summer.
Curated by The GBH Collective
