Oktoberfest is the most popular town fair in the world. The town, in this case, is Munich, and the party attracts about five million people, yearly. Oktoberfest started when Crown Prince Ludwig of Bavaria married Princess Therese of Saxony in 1810. That party has been repeated ever since - 201 years as of last week - and continues through the first few days of October. Only beers brewed inside the city limited of Munich are allowed in the enormous tents constructed on the Theresienwiese each year, but thankfully we have no such restrictions in the 203. Let's dive in. 

It's only fitting that we start with an actual Munich Oktoberfest beer like Paulaner.

One does not generally drink a turtle, but there I was. The time was last Friday night, and the place was the beloved and reborn Georgia Theater in Athens, Georgia. The night's entertainment was the newly formed Chris Robinson Brotherhood, and the beer was a local Terrapin. The confluence of warmth, fellowship, location and good brews was that delicious kind of overload which tends to put one in a trance like state. Trances are not conducive to note-taking. Er, sorry about that. But do try a Terrapin or a Dale's on the rooftop bar at the Theater next time you happen to come-to in Clark County. You won't regret it.

Imagine yourself in a favorite summer spot. You might be slowly swinging in a hammock in the cool, green shade of sunlight filtered through leaves. Maybe you're rolling through the waves in a kayak, putting a final coat of wax on your car, or clustered with friends in a horseshoe of beach chairs, pushing sand beneath your feet and turning your face up: squinting your eyes closed in the welcome glare. Keep that feeling. Hold onto the details of it, because fall's on the way, and we want to make this summer last as long as we can. Let's take a look at a few more seasonals to keep within our reach as we hold onto the summer.

Holy Mother of God, do I love IPAs. Hops are as important an ingredient of beer as water, in my opinion. Without any hops you may as well put a plate of dry barley and yeast in front of me - I guess I could do something with it, but it's not really worth the effort. Hops are the spice of beer, I've said it before, and as such India Pale Ales occupy the same space in the temple of my mind as Thai and Mexican food. I will shoulder your grandmother out of the way if she comes between me and a kaeng phet. This week we're going to roll around in IPAs like a freshly bathed dog in a questionable pile of dirt. My tongue's already hanging out, but don't worry, hop-shy readers: there's something for you, too.