A Victory, with Stilton

The month of November was —for three thousand, three hundred, and thirty-eight of us— National Blog Posting Month: NaBloPoMo, for short. The idea was to write and post one blog entry per day.

I managed to complete the month, but only just. Writing 30 short-form pieces in 30 days, of content of worth, of length greater than a Tweet or photo caption, posted relatively on schedule, while holding down a real job, proved downright difficult. The exercise only increased my astonishment that 'real' writers who write for a living —and write much, much longer pieces— do so under (multiple) deadline demands.

Tonight, for this 30th post, I celebrated (and toasted writers everywhere). I opened a bottle of Victory Brewing Storm King and unwrapped a chunk of Stilton cheese.

First released by Victory Brewing (of Pennsylvania) well over a decade ago, Storm King is a very dark beer, and quite strong (9.1% alcohol-by-volume) and roasty. The brewery calls it an Imperial Stout, but with the its aromatic slug of resiny and piney hops, Storm King out-muscles parvenu Black IPAs at their own game. (In the 1990s, there had been no such Black IPA style designation.)


Stilton, a British blue cheese, has a stinky-foot aroma (in a good, non-Rex Ryan way) and a buttery, salty flavor. As I did, eat the cheese while drinking a strong dark beer like an imperial stout. In a pas de deux of flavors, the beer's roastiness will soften the cheese's blue mold, which, in its turn, will calm the beer's roastiness.

Thirty posts written, I'm sipping from a glass of Storm King, and nibbling on crumbles of Stilton. That's a victory. Until next year, NaBloPoMo; until next year.

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By cheese law, Stilton (or, at least, cheese called Stilton) can only come from the three English counties of Derbyshire, Leicestershire, and Nottinghamshire. Cheese made in the town of Stilton, ironically, cannot be designated as Stilton.