Let judging commence!

I rise at 6:30. Have a shower and write up the last couple of days. I’m so diligent nowadays. And also aware that, if I wait too long, I won’t be able to remember bugger all.

I meet Thomas Sjoberg at breakfast. Though he's rather on the late side, having expected the bus to be at 8:30. I’m tucking into my standard scrambled egg and cheese, with a daring addition of ham. Followed by a pudding of fresh fruit. And sides of coffee and orange juice.

A breakfast of scrambled egg, cheese, ham, orange juice and coffee.

Two police officers come in and help themselves to the buffet. Their car is parked outside with its blue lights flashing. Eating at random buffets seems to be a tradition with the police over here.

Judging is in a building next to OX, the restaurant that hosted last night’s event. It’s also on the seafront. If you’re lucky in the table you’re allocated, you can look dreamily at the sea as you judge. Which is pretty cool.

I'm judging with Samuele d'Imperio and Thomas Schramm. Unfortunately, too far in to have much of a sea view. A shame. Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.

There’s not too much hanging about before the first beers arrive at around 10. They're American Light Lager. Lots of oxidation. Plus some DMS and diacetyl as a bonus. Out of the eleven samples, a couple are OK. Could have been worse, I suppose.

Judges judging.

“I expect the second flight will be much better.” I say optimistically. “The Catharina Sours are usually pretty good.”

There are twelve samples. As I hoped, a couple are real crackers. Just bursting with fresh tropical fruit. I do love a good Catharina Sour.

Lunch is a real shocker. It’s not a buffet: hooray! I'm about all buffeted out. I’d assumed it would be. It always is. Sometimes twice a day. Three if you include breakfast. They love their buffets in Brazil. Instead, it’s a proper sit-down meal in OX. Served by waiters and everything.

We're a mixed bunch at the table: me, Thomas, a Uruguayan woman I judged with last year, an Argentinian and some Brazilians.

We have four options. One is vegetarian, one chicken and two steak. Obviously, I choose one of the last two. Though they bring me the wrong one, steak with pasta. Which wasn’t what I ordered. I don’t really care. The steak is small, but good. As you’d expect in a Brazilian steak house.

My lunch of steak and pasta.

Before plunging back into judging, I have a little stroll on the beach. Like every Brazilian beach I’ve visited, it’s lovely. Too lovely, really. The white sand and bright sunlight almost blind me.

Lovely/blinding beach.

Back in the judging room, it’s Coffee Beers next. Twelve samples again. They’re a mixed bunch. Both in style and quality. And in the quantity of coffee. I really don’t think it works in some styles. Luckily, we pretty much totally agree on the three best ones to be passed through to the next round.

The next two flights are both Bocks. Starting with six Weizenbocks. Some of which are quite nice. I’ll just leave it at that.

I’m starting to be rather beered out. Time to cleanse my palate with ten Doppelbocks. Only joking. It’s really hard work tasting them. I’m not joking. It’s really hard work. I’m feeling tired and I’ve judged forty beers already. Concentrating takes a lot of effort. 

Judging samples.

A mixed bunch again. I’m too tired to expand on that. You know what I mean, anyway.

So glad that’s over. My palate is totally gone after sixteen Bocks. I never want to drink beer again.

I feel totally exhausted. If you’ve never judged, you won’t have any idea of how fucking exhausting it is. If you take it seriously. Which I do. Fifty beers in a day is my limit. We judged fifty-one today.

I go and sit in the bus. Waiting for it to fill up so it can leave. It takes a while. I use the time to do something useful: staring blankly at the sea. It’s about all I’m good for. There's a cruise ship out in the bay. With a fake pirate ship and jet skis dancing around it. The sun twinkling off the azure sea. It’s rather lovely.

Back in the freezer (my room), I literally chill for a couple of hours. Before taking an Uber to Marchand. Where there’s a sort of judges event tonight. With one free beer, and a discount for subsequent beers.

Marchand is a brewery tap somewhere in the centre. At least I think that’s where it is. Quite a way from the beach, anyway. It has an industrial sort of look. As taprooms around the world generally do. With 16 taps set into a brick wall right at the back.

For my free beer, I get a New Zealand IPA. It’s OK. Hoppy and a bit alcoholey.

I'm sitting at a long table, mostly surrounded by Brazilians. One recommends the burger with gorgonzola and bacon. You can never have too much cheese. Or bacon. There’s lots of cheese, too. Making it good, if messy to eat. It comes without any sides. Which is perfect. As I don’t want any.

Marchand NZ IPA and gorgonzola burger.

Chris comes up and says:

“They have caipirinhas, Ron.”

I had wondered, this being a brewpub.

“Ooooh. Thanks for telling me.”

Obviously, I get one. I'm not a fool. Or at least not that big of a fool.

Tina Rogers, the other Dutch judge, comes up and sits by me. We chat away for a while. She lives in Rotterdam. I restrain myself from saying anything nasty about the city. I’m an Amsterdammer, me. We’re contractually obliged to hate Rotterdam.

It's getting close to 10 PM. Time to cash out and get an Uber home. It's another early start tomorrow.

While I'm paying, I spot Thomas.

"Do you want to share an Uber?"

"Sure."

Back in my room, I sip on my cheap cachaça while holding my nose and watching some YouTube. I turn in a little after 11. Pursued to sleep by the deeply dodgy cachaça.



OX Steak & Fish
Av. Atlântica, 5690
Barra Sul, Balneário Camboriú
SC, 88330-036.
https://oxsteakhouse.com.br/


Marchand Beer Company
R. Itália, 723
Nações, Balneário Camboriú
SC, 88338-260.


Disclaimer: my hotel and some meals in Balneário Camboriú were paid for Concurso Brasiliero de Cervejas.