This weekend was jam-packed, with Saturday devoted exclusively to the state… of Delaware. We started at Fordham & Dominion’s R2Hop2 Beer and Music Festival in Dover.
Normally I’m not a huge fan of music festivals, sunshine, warm weather and, some might say, fun. But we had a great time at what we realized was our first concert together in the almost seven years we’ve been “Patrick and Liz.” Crazy, right? But yeah, there was beer, great music, sumo wrestling, rock wall climbing, keg tossing contests and tons of food.
I didn’t get to try the exclusive collaboration they did with Mispillion River Brewing — womp womp — but I had Gypsy Lager to lean on. Seriously, I’m surprised how much I like this simple Helles lager. It’s not out of this world, but it’s solid and perfect for sunny days.
Then we took an impromptu road trip, as we are wont to do, to the Dogfish Brewpub in Rehoboth, where we not only had some incredible food — let’s talk about those short rib French fries, because omg — we also had lots of beer, of course, including sampler featuring:
I may or may not have also had 90 Minute IPA, Burton Baton and Palo Santo Marron. Okay, I absolutely did have all of those. But in my defense, I like to embrace every opportunity to try my favorite Dogfish brews on draft. I also wasn’t driving.
Anyway, I know the 120 Minute IPA garners a lot of different feels from different folks, ranging from vomit-y, make-an-example-of-it feels to happy feels. To me, it was pretty darned good. It wasn’t mind-blowing, and my mouth was slightly confused by the sweetness at first, but it was I liked it a lot on draft — I was also thankful it wasn’t the sugary, sloppy mess some had said.
We’ll see how it does out of the bottle later this week.
Patrick was a huge fan of the 2011 aged 120 Minute IPA, however, which tasted like a higher-gravity honey beer. I appreciated it, but the aged version was too much for me beyond a couple of sips.
We hung outside on the patio for the few hours, eating food and talking about everything, as the sun set. Then, after a bit of whining on my part, Patrick drove us to the beach. It was after 9 p.m., and the water was cold. But we played in the surf, collected seashells, held hands as we looked at the lightning storm in the distance and ran around in the sand like a couple of idiots.
I know it sounds silly and hokey, but it was kind of perfect. I love moments like that.
Of course, since we’re 7-year-olds, we couldn’t end our evening on that lovely, romantic note. Instead, we blew some money at Beach Arcade and walked away with some epic prizes: a barrel full of monkeys game and two fireball candies.
One might say it was a perfect way to end the weekend, but that was how we ended our Saturday. Sunday was full of more adventures, but that’s a story for another day.
Ew, that’s something a cheesy writer would say. The kind of writer that spends hours in a Starbucks working on their “novel” — i.e. enjoying being seen “writing” in Starbucks, but not actually doing anything.
Instead, I will say it’s a story for when I don’t feel like butt and have more room for photos.