Your intrepid liquor reporter has once more survived the annual bacchanalia known as the Calgary Stampede, despite regular forays of early-morning boozing in while chafing my feet in ill-fitting cowboy boots.
With the economic downturn, this year’s Stampede celebrations were a bit more subdued, as the oil companies in Calgary reined in the spending on the shindigs and parties that normally happen this time of year.
Despite the toned-down spending, many celebrated like there was no tomorrow, almost like the Calgary Stampede has become Alberta’s own Carnaval, Mardi Gras, and Las Vegas all rolled into one. For ten days a year, the normally conservative and buttoned-down Calgarians are whipped into a frenzy of lecherous excesses, where prim and proper accountants drink until they fall off their barstools, often into the willing and eager arms of a boot-wearing damsel not necessarily his wife.
Much like Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro is a celebration of the pleasures of the flesh prior to 40 days of abstinence during Lent, the Calgary Stampede is ten days of wanton depravity that releases those in the hardest working city in Canada from their self imposed workaholic lifestyles.
The sacrifices Calgarians make by working so hard the other 355 days of the year are all forgotten, and any behaviour is forgiven during the Stampede. Similar to the Las Vegas motto of “What goes in Vegas, stays in Vegas”, there is a collective amnesia that grants amnesty for all sins committed during those libidinous ten days.
Naturally, an event of such saturnalian proportions is right up the alley of your long suffering liquor columnist, so I normally spend the Stampede living life to the fullest. From the tequila breakfasts that stretched from the morning to late in the evening, ending with pinching the bottoms of hot and bothered two-stepping cowgirls at Nashville North, I left all modesty behind for those sinful ten days.
Unfortunately for the beer snobs in the audience, stampede week is not an easy time to find a fancy beer. Labatt is the exclusive beer sponsor, so all Stampede venues will only have products from Labatt’s parent company available.
For those who may not recall the labyrinthine organization of the megabrewers of the world, Labatt is owned by the Belgian-based conglomerate AB Inbev, whose brands include Budweiser, Labatt, Corona, Stella, Becks, and a long list of others.
While the vast majority of these beers are brewed at the Labatt facility in Edmonton, having local Albertan macrobrew beer is not quite the same as the tiny craft brews that the beer snobs of the world revel in.
Instead of washing down those omnipresent greasy sausages and tiny pancakes with warm flat beer in a plastic cup, your intrepid liquor reporter dedicated himself to seeking out the classier Stampede Breakfasts, where the warm flat beer in a plastic cup was upgraded to a Mimosa, or possibly the cowboy-ified version of a Mimosa, also known as a Screwdriver, or just plain old vodka and OJ.
Why vodka and OJ? Because, gentle reader, orange juice is widely available at Stampede Breakfasts, and when the vodka is not supplied by the host, your intrepid liquor reporter deftly shakes a dash or two from his well-worn hip flask into the glass for an instant cocktail.
To honor our local booze producers, your humble narrator has been drinking only Highwood Pure Canadian Vodka, made with loving care from fine Alberta wheat and natural spring water just south of Calgary at Highwood Distillers.
Surrounded by the ranches of cattle country, your intrepid liquor reporter considers Highwood Distillers the most rootin’-tootin’ cowboy-bootin’ purveyor of fine hooch at any Stampede-related event.
For the cowpokes looking for something a little more western than vodka, Highwood Distillers also produces a dozen styles of whisky, with one to satisfy every taste. My favorite is the Century Reserve 21 Year, a smooth Rye Whisky with hints of butterscotch and oak. It would be an insult to the whisky to defile it by adding a soft drink mixer, so your humble narrator drinks this straight up, or maybe over a few cubes of ice.
So, gentle reader, remember that the annual bacchanalia known as the Calgary Stampede isn’t just about drinking warm flat beer in a plastic cup. Take the opportunity to class up your Stampede boozing. It might even help attract a buckle-bunny or rugged rough rider for one of those delightfully common Stampede flings!
