Beers Eye Drunk

2006-08-04T17:16:00.000-07:00

Beers Eye Drunk: Sam Adams Summer Ale Review

Sam Adam's Summer Ale: Parts 1-11 of 12

2006-07-17T22:33:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I had the worst ROI of any beer analysis conducted to date. I bought somewhere around $18 worth of beer, including the modestly priced Sam Adam's Summer Ale, on sale for $5.50 a six-pack. Through a series unfortunate events, I found myself drinking the beer rather quickly, taking little note of it at all.

I watched Germany get eliminated from the World Cup and most of the beers disappeared through the course of the game. I remember nothing about the beer or the game. I don't remember hating either. In retrospect, I could have been more present for both.... This is why I don't get very much out of life. I drift off, ignore details, and flop through life moment by moment with no real drive or interest in anything...

So, I bought six more of these Summer Ales thinking that perhaps the beer was so good and smooth I simply drank them too fast to recall them... Well, somewhere in this week's blur of job applications, interviews, and cover letters, five more of these beers got knocked down without so much as a scribbled post-it left behind. And the saddest part, for me and the beer, I don't really remember what the hell this stuff tastes like and can't even begin to describe it. And so there is now just one left, and it falls to the destructive power of video and the restorative magic of video editing to bring artistic merit back to the blog.

In the meantime, I have been craving a beer so bad I even drank four Lone Stars, which is the taste equivelent of flossing with a wet mules' ass hair. But still, I've been too lazy to set up the video camera and there are several lighting issues that I can't quite resolve. Mainly, I'm too lazy to put a new bulb in the living room.

Are we catching the general theme here?

I'm too lazy.... too lazy for the craft of studious beer drinking... instead, I'm a guy without a job, who invests large sums of his shrinking finances on beer, not because he cares enough about beer to even remember how it tastes... Nope. I am a man who drinks for no particular reason, every day I can.

It's really no wonder things didn't work out with me and work... When even beer is too much work, then you've got a serious problem. At least problem drinkers are aiming to get fucked up. I think the only reason I'm not is because it takes too long... I hope to have the second video beer blog up before Friday, anyhow... but I really wouldn't bet on me at this point.

2006-07-11T14:46:00.000-07:00

Beers Eye Drunk: Celis Raspberry Review

Whitbread Pale Ale: England Says Hold the Hops

2006-06-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

Part I:
A Discussion on the Differences Between American and English Beer and Warnings Against Dating While Intoxicated.

There are few things I've learned about the world through drinking beer. Amongst the most important, you don't stand a better chance with women when you're hammered and America is stupid.

Some reasons include:

America gives anything over a measly 6% alcohol the foul label of "malt liquor" and girls give my drunken breath the equally foul label of "get away from me before I kick you in the balls".

America's idea of Hefeweizen is flat, watered down and fruity compared to the European style, which can have a strong wheat smells, heavy carbonation, and a cottony sweet finish, and in the meantime, girls don't like it when you puke on them no matter what consistency or flavor.

America thinks that pale ales have to be incinerated with hops and thus lack subtlety, much like you, loaded with hops, who may stare directly at breasts from across the room for a solid five minutes before going over to talk to them.

Part II: Critical Information about English Ales, Bears

Whitbread Pale Ale is a good example of an English Pale Ale. And when I mention pale ales to anyone around here, they quickly assume that it's a hopstravaganza like Stone or Firestone or something other kind of rock. Even the most well-known pale ale imports, Bass and Harp, are fairly hoppy, though bare the a tad bit of the creaminess and style of some English pale ales. They don't do much to sway the "common knowledge" that pale ales are dry and bitter.

English Pale Ales tend to sit in a glass like beef gravy, rich and heavy, a warm brown liquid that dumps smoothly down the throat at a slightly warm temperature. There can be a good deal of surprises in English pale ales, from a floral smell to baked fruit. Most of the time, they're fairly creamy, fairly sweet, with a long lingering flavor; a crafted design rather than a head-splitting train wreck of hops.

Whitbread, though, will give you a headache for a different reason. At a cold temperature, this beer tastes like nothing but straight-up liquor. The overtones of alcohol pound a dirge into your skull after two sips. And I admit, I was pissed off, since I was expecting a heavy considerate mixture of flavor and not an unwelcome wallop to the brain. Though, after this beer has time to settle in the glass, other characteristics gurgle to the surface.

There's a sweet malty touch to it that's got a bit of a marzipan flavor. If you don't know what marzipan is, then you've got to go out and rent some Paddington Bear cartoons, because he was nuts about it. You could probably buy some at a candy store, but to really get the sense of it, you've got to see that bear. He's incredible. In fact, you're not going to understand much of anything in this world if you haven't seen Paddington Bear and that's all I'm going to say about it. In fact, I will go so far as to say people who do not know and love Paddington Bear should be swept of the face of the earth indiscriminately in some kind of ecological disaster and there's a hint of bitter cherry.

Summary Review of Whitbread Pale Ale

We've touched on a lot of topics... America, dating, England, Paddington... But through this journey, you may feel as though I've inadequately described the overall value of Whitbread. Perhaps, I've meandered off-topic and used too many colorful devices and thus sacrificed the straight-forward character that was the original charm of this beer blog. All right then, you smart asses, let's cut the chase then:

I don't really like it. The bitter start and unsavory malty middle makes me tired and bored, like listening Bea Arthur sing my tax return. It's not a bad beer, but it doesn't speak to me, or if it does, all it’s saying is that in fifteen minutes I'll have to pee. Depth and style are there, but I'm not. I'm watching the history channel completely distracted from the beer. And when the plumbing of Constantinople is overshadowing your beer, it can't be that good.

Samuel Smith's Organic Lager: Say What?!?

2006-06-29T20:14:00.000-07:00

I like to shop at Central Market sometimes. They have good soup and mostly hippies shop there, but it's expensive, so only executive hippies shop there; The kind that listen to jam bands nostalgically in their studio lofts, smoking pot in constant terror of a random office drug test.

The checkout clerk was a forgettable hippy, like most people in Austin, with a zit-ravaged mug caged in dirtlocks which look like the wad on miscellaneous gunk I sometimes find from behind the stove. It took me a full week later for me to actually hear what he said to me, since for me, conversation with strangers is like a sudden-death game of ping-pong on a very short table. I concentrate on fast reactions so I can end it as quickly as possible.

He had stated that Samuel Smith's is the best Organic Ale, he's ever had. And I probably recommended that he shower or try St. Peter's Organic Ale. He asked if they had it at Central Market, and I said I believe so, but later I found that they stopped carrying it. I felt a little bad about that, since I usually like to tell the truth. When I lie, I usually go all out and include Big Foot or UFOs, and it was a shame to have missed the opportunity. Still, I felt better when I realized that I had been somewhat duped by Sir Stinks-a-lot.

Samuel Smith's is an Organic Lager... not an Organic Ale. For you non-beer drinkers, that's like someone saying to you, I think Red Fire truck is the best Red Shoe I've ever worn.

Well, thanks hippy, because I'd have never tried this beer at all if it weren't for your suggestion... And I take suggestions from hippies for the same reason you might listen to a troll under a bridge. You know it's going to turn out bad, but you can't help yourself. It's enchanting, in a hairy sort of way.

Samuel Smith's, however, is the exact opposite of troll-ish, best described as pleasantly clean and crisp. Light in flavor, middle-weight in texture, and a little heavy in the glass, the organic lager maintains a brightness and obvious quality through a very pure flavor, a perfect combination of ingredients, with no overwhelming bitterness or alcohol.

Samuel Smith's is a tad bulkier than a typical lager, due to its full-bodied malt and hop mix, and could potentially disappoint Organic Ale lovers, seeking earthy aromas and fruit finishes, and lager drinkers, expecting something a little more livelily on the tongue. This beer doesn't take any serious chances, doesn't pander to any expectations, instead concentrating on a very pure and smooth blend. In fact, it's complete lack of discernable flavor notes, undertones, and scents, provide an incident free drinking experience. This can be quite refreshing with the right food combination.

. For those without a strong passion for lagers, specifically, I would imagine this beer going over fairly well. But it's like going to the store, asking for rock n' roll and someone giving you Kansas, rather than a Led Zepplin album. Something about that just doesn't sit right with me, which is why I'm not going to give a strong recommendation to this beer. All and all, there's not a whole lot write home about when it comes to this lager. Such a pure and smooth mix, it's like a muted easily digested, Top 40 hit, version of a lager beer. To keep with musical metaphors, Samuel Smiths is able to sing in key of beer, but never quite produce a symphony.

Fyi. If you're on a first date, it is not such a good time to demonstrate your ability to sing in the key of beer. It is considered rude in public places.

Fyi. Bigfoot says this is the best beer blog on the web.

St. Peter's English Ale: Real Good, Even if You're Not Real

2006-06-29T12:06:00.000-07:00

Many of you long-time readers of the blog know that St. Peter's is one of my favorite brewers. Of course, I understand you also probably also know a lot about faeries, snuffalupicus, and the lost city of Atlantis, because any supposed "long-time readers" of the blog most likely belong to the realm of fictional creatures. Since this fact turns the blog into a class of literature akin to a letter to Santa Claus, I won't feel bad about boring you with some trivial details before describing this latest beer selection.

As I sit down to write this article, I am being grilled, excuse the pun, for my inappropriate use of the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Machine. You see, I cook about two to three cheeseburgers a day on the machine as I am trying to gain weight for my pending career as a circus strongman. Until then, I have little to no use for this over-sized leopard-print loincloth I got used on ebay, which is okay, because I think I've only completed 9 of the requisite 47 washings before it is again wearable.

However, in the meantime, I'm getting a talking-to about the grill's complicated fat-trapping mechanism, which is an ingenious piece of plastic that fills with lard periodically. Apparently, lard and discarded cheese attracts bugs, which is bad, however, since I'll be making another cheeseburger in about five hours, I decided to let it sit in the dish choosing to clean it out later in the day... This decision was viewed as unwise by the powers that be, and thus the resulting lashing has put me off a great a deal from the spirit of this article.

I'm no longer in the mood to tell you about St. Peter's English Ale, especially since you the reader are not likely to even exist. So, accept this multiple choice quiz instead of a full review. By applying simple principles of logic, you will rightly guess the character of the beer for yourself. If you do not, and I have wasted your time, remember that you are a fictitious creature and time is likely irrelevant to you, due to the agelessness of your conceptual/spiritual nature...

1. Which of the following statements is false?
a. St. Peter's English ale contains organically grown hops, but is not the same as St. Peter's Organic Ale.
b. St. Peter's Organic Ale is English, but is not the same as St. Peter's English Ale.
c. 1 PINT is 0.9 FL.OZ
d. your mom

2. St. Peter's Pours Like Which of the Following?
a. a brick dropped from a helicopter onto a sidewalk
b. your fat, sweaty cousin rolling off the couch onto the floor
c. like leafy rain water out of a tire swing
d. mostly (c), a little bit of (b), but without the smell, and a tad bit of (a) but less fun

3. St. Peter's flavors and aromas did not remind me of...
a. A lightly sweetened spot of English Breakfast tea
b. Old Farmer Caruthers burning autumn leaves again out behind the barn
c. A wet German Shepard
d. the need to clean the fat trap on my George Forman grill

4. St. Peter's English Ale is...
a. Rich, smooth, but already in a relationship
b. Medium weight, derives its liveliness from complex flavor rather than carbonation, and is gay
c. even more flavorful at a slightly warmer temperature and knows how to kill you with a piece of paper
d. the secret ingredient in Central Market's bean and turnip soup.

5. St. Peter's English Ale is recommended to...
a. Everyone except people from Minnesota
b. Any who likes English style ales, beers with strong earthy flavor characteristic, while not overly filling like many porter/stouts.
c. Professorial circus clowns on sabbatical from Clown College
d. This guy:

Pinkus Muller: German Organic Hefe-Weizen

2006-06-17T12:02:00.000-07:00

Now, I'm very critical of Hefe-Weizens, mostly because they tend to be the favorite beers for brunch-eating, Mac-toting, journal-keeping Indie chicks who don't even like the taste of beer. Many commercial Hefes are watery, weak on flavor and carbonation, and basically exist as a garnish for a lemon wedge. Still, I'd much rather drink a boring hefe with a lemon in it than a hard lemonade.

Hefes can vary greatly in quality and overall effect. Some are very European in character, with a bitter cottony sugar content and heavy carbonation. Some are more lemony with a clean and watery character often chased by a bouquet of fruit flavors. The bookends of bad taste for the genre, though, would be the flavors of sun-throttled oranges and Ivory soap. Somewhere in this spectrum of ill, lies Pinkus Muller, a very disappointing Organic Hefe-Weizen from The World's First Organic Brewery in Munster Germany (the two dots above the U have been painstakingly removed by our editoral staff denoting a mindful lack of respect).

At first, I was very optimistic regarding Pinkus, since the label boasted more than the usual crisp and refreshing promises. It was certified organic. To put it in perspective, my feces is also organic, but I'm not sure it's ever been certified as such. And THAT I was sure would make all the difference. I was at least partially wrong.

Pinkus fell like an anvil flatly into the glass, retaining some lacing, and a powerful aroma that I could only describe as 50% lemon and 50% dryer sheet. The taste was nowhere near as dank and saturated with wheat as I expected from an unfiltered organic brew. It instead bore a mild wateriness that lacked any easily discernable flavor characteristics.

The beer's flatness and lack of flavor magnitude created nothing short of a dull experience. The soapy-lemon overtones were vaguely memorable, but by no means enjoyable. And this beer, I would imagine, is tolerable with a lemon wedge in it, may even be refreshing on a hot day, but so is a glass of water. Last time I checked I could buy a tons more lemons, water, and soap for the $3.00 I wasted on Pinkus.

Pinkus Muller was very disappointing indeed. Interestingly enough, I had an Alhambra before and after the Pinkus and there was no contest. Alhambra had more unique flavors, more liveliness, and a memorable character. German hefes are always a gamble, it seems, either straining to adopt the qualities of a high class pilsner or languishing in a flat uninspired wheat puddle. Spain crushes Germany in this round.

Alhambra: More Spanish Wasted On Me

2006-06-16T16:48:00.000-07:00

I am not a professional beer writer. Today's review is a perfect example of how much my skill has degraded and perhaps, how limited it has always been. My first Alhambra was not properly refrigerated and then, during a scuffle with the dog, it was spilled on the floor. The dog, when enlisted for emergency disaster control services, had tasted some of this beer and gave it an unfavorable review, leaving me to clean up the majority of the mess.

My second beer from the six-pack was accidentally left on the porch outside when I was distracted from my duties by a higher calling to help my girlfriend hang some picture frames. I swear to god whoever invented picture frames must be some rightwing nutcase who enacted his plan to make sure bums like me couldn't sit idol for two solid minutes, even whilst jobless and surely.

Now, I am at last alone, and I strain to find the words to describe the third Alhambra. I'm far too exhausted by my day of solid squalor to even comment on its ample carbonation or the wheaty smell and aftertaste. Nope. I haven't got it in me. This beer has a medium weight to it, with a sweetness that glides gently over the natural flavors of amazingly clear, clean water... But who gives a shit? It's not like saying so will pull me from my dismal state.

Sure, there was a delightful lacing in the glass after the head dissipated, and the beer called to mind some quality Italian brews I fancy... But is that enough to wrench this miserable day up by its balls back into some semblance of worth? No. Let's face the facts, shall we? Alhambra is a great tasting, smooth-beer, whose quality components create a clean and simple delight. Meanwhile, I've spent roughly eight hours picking my nose, festering on my ass in front of the television, wasting my life away. A professional would rise above it all to tell you that Alhambra is definitely worth a try, especially if you typically lean toward watery beers in summer, but would like to take on something a tad heavier and smoother, with no fruit-wedge necessary.

I am no professional. I am a lousy jack-ass, who hasn't taken a shower in three days and smells like moldy bread and stale arm pits. Just know that a positive endorsement from a man in such a reprehensibly miserable state is a fair sign that Alhambra's worth your seven dollars. If you're not convinced by my latest putrid attempts to review a beer, I suggest you promptly eat shit and die.

Ringwood's Old Thumper

2006-06-10T16:50:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been a little bored of beer. It's a good time to be bored of beer, though. I'm looking for a job and going to the gym. Beer-drinking really doesn't really fit into either one of those agendas. It doesn't help beer's cause any that the only beers I've had in the last week or so have been Bitburger in a can and Old Thumper.

Old Thumper is bubbly, a little heavy, and has a tactless smattering of hops and grain, which make it very similar to Miller Genuine Draft. Of bottled beers of a reasonable price, MGD has to rank somewhere at the high-end of the middle, but it's not the spirit any "extra special ale" should be looking to evoke. There's a tough, angry boar as the logo, and you'd think that'd mean the beer was something strong and powerful. After a few sips, I realized that the boar spoke more towards the kind of constitution the drinker would have to have to get through the bottle.

It's not bad, but it's not at all interesting to me. I will say that it's slightly more intriguing a few degrees warmer, which sets it apart from the swill it otherwise reminds me of. It's got some spiciness and ample carbonation. The aroma is lightly floral, and you don't get bells and whistles like that from a C grade mass-produced piece of domestic crap, but Old Thumper will sadly appeal to that crowd just on the flavor similarities alone. I fear, though, that this beer might still be too thick for the casual beer drinker.

I find I have nothing to say about beer lately. Crap like this doesn't inspire me. It takes up space in my fridge while I feel guilty as all hell for drinking it. This shit's been here for a week and it's depressing me. I hate this beer. It's not really the beer's fault. It's the fact that at this time in my life, I need a strong support system, and being stuck at home everyday to face this supreme waste of time is making my brain want to grow claws and dig itself a tunnel to Mexico where it can get better beer... Yes, Mexico!

ugh!

A few closing details:

Shipyard is responsible for this beer... See the side panel for details. I should have known.

Doesn't Old Thumper sounds like it came out of the same playbook as the Dirty Sanchez.. It tastes like it does, too. Btw, Ringwood sounds like something you can catch from too many Old Thumpers.

A follow-up on the Southern Tier beer, my uncles Dave and Dave thought it was the worst shit they've ever tasted... They'd probably sooner enjoy an Old Thumper, though.

Libation Elimination Tournament Delayed

2006-06-03T22:54:00.000-07:00

As many of you are aware, the very turbulent movie deal fell through officially the other day. There will be no movie based on the beer blog. The book deal was also pulled. We're looking for new management right now, and trying to keep our projects and intellectual capital very restrained until we acquire the best representation available.

The other day I bought Bitburger in a can. I thought it was a draft can with a widget. It was just a tall can. Lame. It was still good, though, and then I spilled it on the desk and now everything smells like a combination of oats and sweat sock.

Upstate New York Beer: The Impossible Dream

2006-05-20T18:45:00.000-07:00

In college, I was fortunate to live close to Cooperstown, which sported some awesome beers. I have fond, but very cloudily memories of our trip into the middle of nowhere to a brewery that was more or less a converted barn, which I seem to remember having hay on the ground. We were fortunate enough to load up a keg of the Pride of Milford. I seem to remember sleeping in the afternoon in the middle of my friend's stairwell after undertaking a personal mission to finish the keg myself when only a handful of folks showed up for our “big” party.

I remember this beer being about ten-grades higher in quality, but also hops, than anything I had previously in a keg, and it was strong as hell. Each plastic cup felt like Thor smacking me in the bridge of the nose with his hammer. Unfortunately, I was never able to return to Cooperstown to test the beer for true quality when it would not overshadowed by its quantity.

Upon my recent visit to the Finger Lakes area, I found it difficult to find any regional brews, other than Saranac, whose Pale Ale is still a favorite of mine. After plowing through six of those rich and hoppy amber gems, I was pretty well bored of the remaining offerings. I traveled from liquor store to super-Wal-Mart looking for something new... I found it in the most unexpected place... Aldi's.

For those of you who don't know what Aldi's is, I will elaborate. For those of you who do know what Aldi's is, yes, I'm dead freakin' serious, I found beer... new beer... at Aldi's.

Aldi's is a discount grocery store that cuts overhead costs by being characteristically filthy, leaving the food in crates with price signs someone printed on a dot matrix, charging people a temporary rental fee of 25 cents to use a cart, and offering rejected and strange varieties of existing products, such as the 6oz jar of mayonnaise or the bag of seven frozen, yet pre-sauced, BBQ chicken wings.

Admittedly, this Aldi's looked way better than it did a few years ago. The floor was relatively clean. The checkout girls were not mutants fresh from a toxic breeding pen, and for some reason they were selling things like portables DVD players and boom boxes. I was actually marginally impressed, and only one out of three people working there gave me that look which reminds me of when the people in the gooey cocoons beg to be killed in Aliens. I have to raise my grade of Aldi's from F- to at least a D+.

The beer I found was in a 12 pack that was sealed with clear packaging tape and had dents and scuff marks on it like it had been dragged by rope from a trailer hitch. Because it’s Upstate New York you can’t tell of that’s incidental or occurred after the fact as some kind unfavorable review. All the boxes were like that, so I picked the best looking one.

I had roughly eight hours to drink the twelve beers, and decided that I would only just try each of the four kinds in hopes not to be hung over the next morning for my lovely 6:00am plane back to Austin. Much to my surprise, none of the four brands gave me influenza. In fact, they were all astonishingly good. I won't go so far as to say great, but I'll definitely say they're worth having again. Impressive doesn't cut it, really. It was like David running over Goliath in his H2. This underdog brew came off a pallet on the floor of the discount grocery store and actually turned out to be fairly tasty.

Southern Tier Brewery is somewhere down towards Pennsylvania in an area that I've probably been to, but since it didn't include any less or more cows or rednecks than any other place else upstate, it didn't stand out.

Phin & Matts Extraordinary Ale stood out as the most interesting. There was an almost heavy fruitiness, while retaining a wealth of hops and carbonation. The combination of the hops and the beer’s strong head kept the malty sweet flavors from turning the beer into an un-lively syrup. Though, if you let this beer sit around or get too warm, that's definitely what you ended up with. I could only imagine how good this beer is at its freshest state. No telling how long it was sitting at Aldi's or what truck it fell out of on the way there.

Southern Tier's IPA wasn't bad at all, although I can't say it holds a candle to Saranac. I'm stuck on Saranac, and probably will be for life. With Pale Ales, it's like death metal. Sure it's all loud-ass, uncultured noise, blaring hops for the sake of hopiness... Once you get over the juvenile appeal, if you still like any of them at all, it's the one or two whose particular noise is on your chosen wave-length. I consider my liking of Saranac as akin to my preference of Pantera to Mettallica. We're not talking about picking your favorite symphony orchestra here, just which guys you like yelled at you. Southern Tier made a good IPA, but didn’t win me over.

Another surprise within a surprise was Southern Tier's Tripel, a Belgium style beer made in a place where if you could find Belgium on a map then you'd probably get beaten by the high school football team after school. The Tripel had some of the bells and whistles of the genre, a strong alcohol flavor with a girth of sweetness that's very much like coffee mixed with Jagermeister. Don't ask how I know that. In any event, the Tripel was a nice hail marry pass on fourth and long to say the least. I applauded the effort, but all in all, this beer had very little originally to warrant the gut space. While not a complete flop, it doesn’t stack up to the imports.

Southern Tier also made the obligatory Porter, which was what you might expect; dark, creamy, with aromas/flavors ranging from coffee to chocolate. The porter was so typical that it was almost genius, and a bit of wateriness to the consistency actually kept it from being too heavy. Highly drinkable, without too much to ponder, this is a perfect pub beer, but unfortunately I wasn't at a pub and I was on my parent's couch getting assaulted by their toy beagle who had eaten a large portion of my blanket the night before. However, I do imagine this beer would go over well in large quantities at cold temperatures with good friends. I live in Austin, and if I can get any of those things, let alone all three at once, I'll be happy to drink just about anything.

All in all, the beers got above average marks from me. I am typically very critical of microbrews since there's so damn many of them and they're so distracting from a wealth of high quality imports. It's just too damn easy to get dinged with a sixer of absolute uninspired crap, either a muddy, gritty excuse for a porter or an unbearably dry hop-tastify of an IPA. Very seldom do you see a domestic brewery that's bold enough to put a Tripel in a sampler pack and take respectable swings at both IPA and Porter without failure.

If you're ever in Western New York or Northwestern Pennsylvania or far upstate at a discount grocery store, definitely give Southern Tier a try. It's an experience that will be worth the 25 cents it takes to rent a shopping cart at Aldis...

No Beer This Week

2006-05-10T21:19:00.000-07:00

It is highly unlikely that I will find a beer to review this week while in central New York visiting the family. I did have a Saranac Pale Ale that was left in the fridge from my last visit. It was actually okay, but I threw it out since it probably had the plague growing in it.

Libation Elimination Tournament: Pre-Match Analysis

2006-05-02T20:44:00.000-07:00

The electricity is in the air. Today it even haled. And while it has very little to do with the tournament, you can expect similarly powerful and elegant elemental forces to collide on their collision courses as they violently complete thier paths right into one another followed by a sudden stop of some kind. And it will sound like "pow" only with more bubbles.

In the first round, in what is being dubbed as The Journey to the Darkside, fiesty black microbrew, Independence Bootlegger Brown Ale launches an assault on murky, smooth Mackeson Triple X Stout. Mackeson will try to rely on its rich flavor and milky consistency to slide ahead into the second round. Independence Brown Ale bares the distinct honor of being the only domestic microbrew to pre-qualify for the tournament. Will Indie bring the dark chocolaty pain down on Mackeson in the name of the good ole US of A? This is one match I'll be sitting down for, but perhaps on the very edge of my seat.

Also set to collide in a first round battle of dark beers, Xingu and Baltika will represent Russia and Brazil inverse-respectively. Now there is a very good chance that Xingu, being a fairly difficult beer to allocate, will decline the prestigious honor of a spot in the tournament. If this is the case, than the winner of a slug-fest between McEwan's and Belhaven will take it's place, if there's anything left of either one after those rough Scotts get completely pounded. Xingu vs Baltika is being haled as The Heart of Darkness in which the deep spicy jungles of Brazil unleash their near unholy onslaught of taste upon the powerful black alchol overtones of perhaps the most aggressive porter in the world.

Class meets Grass, when pristine pub ale Old Growler tries to take a bite out of St. Peter's Organic English Ale in a first round battle for the Briton Heavy-weight Championship. Either one of these beers is a shoe-in to win the entire tournament. And this first round clash of true titons is definitely the marquee match of round one. Old Growler is smooth, warm, articulate and still gruff and dank enough to put up a good fight in your mouth. Ounce for ounce, it could be the best beer on the market. And then there's St. Peter's Organic Ale, which boasts a peculiar color, smell, and bottle. But beneath those flashy entrapments there's a real unique style, with an earthy richness that's nothing short of devine. They've both got heart and talent, but only one will advance to round two. The other will become but a burp and a memory.

Old Speckled Hen is another favorite to go far in the tournament; a creamy reddish ale with a flawless drinkability. Though don't count out Hofbrau Maibock, the May brew with German engineering and an undeniable sweet and floral finish. Their colors may be similar in hue, but I'd expect something reddish to be spilled before this one's over. The Speckled One could get upset early by the Maibock, especially now that we're in May giving Hofbrau the home field advantage.

Konig Ludwig is the cinderella story of the beer blog to date. Picked up on sale with very little in the way of expectations, this supposed Hefeweizen turned a lot of heads with its uniquely European taste. Mostly it just titled head slightly backwards, but the impact was no less powerful. But the very first beer review by the blog, Erdinger wants to lay claim to being the best Hefe discovery of the passed three months. Konig Ludwig already has some successful parties and tastings under his belt, while little has been heard of Erdinger since the initial review several months ago. Ludwig's riding high on momentum, but will absense make the heart grow fonder of Erdinger?

Blanche De Chambly was the amazing Canadian upstart, cloudy sweet and perhaps unbeatable. Bischofshof 1649 was a nice, fresh and energetic brew, but it's a tall order for any tall and frosty beer to send the Chambly into a first round defeat. Unibroue's Canadian Crusher is likely to put the beat down on Bischofshof, unless 1649 can become a memorable year for extreme whoop-ass.

And of course, there are still four open slots in the tournament, which are likely to be filled with walk-ons. That could make for some dangers for our known players since there's still a lot of great beer out there yet to be reviewed by the blog. And it's very likely the best beer out there has yet to be tasted. A deadly new-comer could easily sweep the contest and go on to future glory and guzzling.

It's On! - Libation Elimination Tournament Update

2006-05-01T20:44:00.000-07:00

Here are the brackets for the tournament so far. There are four open spaces, a lot of hopeful beers out there and a lot of drunks who are already clamoring to participate. Click the picture and expand it to full size to see where we're at. If your favorite reviewed beer isn't here... well, that's because it sucked.

St. Peter's Cream Stout: Nice Bottle, Okay Beer

2006-04-27T18:12:00.000-07:00

The other day I was at a promotional event for the beer blog, and I needed a date. St. Peter's is always a good choice, never embarrassing, and makes me feel like the life of the party... Unfortunately, my first choice St. Peter's Organic English Ale was unavailable, and having already extended the invitation I found myself unable to refute when offered instead, St. Peter's Cream Stout.

"This ain’t my regula’ ho!" I exclaimed to myself. St. Peter and I have a imaginary trick-to-pimp relationship. I have the same thing going with Cap’n Crunch, who must slap them bitches hard, because they’re nothing but sweet when I get my hands on ‘em.

Now as you may recall from Chapter 57 of the yet unpublished (but often illegally downloaded) novel based on the movie based on the beer blog, I do not fancy Cream Ales. They taste like melted shoe and tapioca pudding.

But it's St. Peter's!?! Your friend! Your buddy!?!

And of course, since my inner dialogue occurred to me already in convincing italics, I was forced into a night with the Cream Stout. And really, I kid you not; I felt lonely and confused the whole time, as if my better half was missing. I kept looking around at all the happy people who got to bring the beer they love most. Meanwhile, I put distance between myself and the Cream Stout, so perhaps if another more tempting beer made itself available I would not appear otherwise engaged. Sure there were some nice intriguing microbrews out and about, but most of the time with those, intriguing just means bitter, hopped up, and lacking in unique flavor. Alas, I had to try the Cream Stout.

How bad good it be, right? Cream Stout is a genre I'm totally not into, but how bad could St. Peter's do? My girlfriend of three years sometimes sings Pat Benatar songs, and I still think she's great. Besides everyone was admiring the Cream Stout's bottle, saying how classy and cool it seemed. And I felt terrible for trying to distance myself without giving her a fair shake. Wouldn't you know it; she turned out to be much more stouty and earthy than creamy and icky. For those who like St. Peter's Porter, this Stout is very similar, though smoother with a great chocolaty aroma and no sluggishness or grittiness found in crummier dark beers.

Cream Stout really didn't float my boat overall, even though I was pleasantly surprised at the quality, texture, and drinkability. For a beer that's smooth and tastes a tad watery, it is extremely filling. It also lacks vigor and liveliness. Cream Stout was cool and intriguing, but spending an entire evening with her could really leave you tired, bloated, and bored. I'm glad she went with me, because I think we both had an okay time, but I really think she's more of the "stay at home, watch a movie, talk about what color to paint the living room" kind of beer.

If you like Guinness draft (for real, not just because it's the only thing you can think of to order when you go out because you're 17, have a fake id, and stuck a box of crayons up your nose when you were 8), then I'd venture to guess that this beer could possible be your new favorite. The two of you can stay home together, never go out to parties and have a happy life together, and guys like me who are still shopping around don't have to feel guilty leaving her behind.

I give this beer high marks and continue to think of St. Peter's as one of the best brewery retailing on the large scale in America from overseas. I have a feeling that St. Peter's is going to start gaining some serious national buzz after the movie based on this blog starts production. We're already throwing around names of people who could play St. Peter. The other day someone said Eric Roberts, and I pretty much had to walk out of the meeting. Some people say I'm being stubborn and that the film will never get made at the rate we're going, but I refuse to see my intellectual capital turned into some defunct USA network made-for-tv reel of poop.

My editors said that now would be a great time to apologize for the misspellings and factual errors in this blog. They often make suggestions and corrections and I delete them, because without me, they are nothing, and in order to keep their egos in check, I must not relent to their ideas of what "grammar" is or is not. However, I will acknowledge that there are 17 basic errors in punctuation or logic in this post alone. And yes, I do know that poop does not typically come in reels, but I'm still not counting that one, because I saw Jim Jarmusch's Coffee & Cigarettes so I know it can definitely happen.

Libation Elimination Tournament Announced!

2006-04-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

As discussed in previous posts, this blog is being made into a feature film and a full-length novel. A lot of other options have been put on the table, such as the musical, the Chap Stick, and the videogame. Yet, as the iron only seems to get hotter, I really see no real reason to rush things. However, I still feel the urge to be innovative. I mean after you pretty much pioneer the concept of reviewing beer on the internet, you're reputation is as much about being a trendsetter as it is about being a mildly eloquent drunk.

A few weeks ago, it came to me. Why not build an Ark? And then I realized, that like e-mail, you really should check you inbox for inspirations more than once every few decades, otherwise you have to sift through a crapload of outdated, unread messages. Apparently, I had the idea for Ipod a few years ago, too, but was just too damn busy to follow through with it. Mine was color first, by the way.

Finally, I got to the idea of having an elimination style tournament featuring beers in tasting competitions, highlighted by special beer challenges, in which this year's greatest reviewed beers will clash for a prestigious title.

The contests will very, the judgments will be harsh and final. There will be only one winner and someone will probably belch. I really can't think of anything better than that.

More details will follow. I will soon release the brackets and match types. There may be a few qualifying matches as this tournament will be very prestigious and only beers of high quality and relatively low expense shall be invited to participate. As for people, I'm only inviting industry insiders and renowned drunks. I'm sorry if that excludes any large percentage of my fan base, but this is serious work and I can't be weighed down by people who will either be smashed in the first round or start complaining that they're full.

Exciting times coming soon for the beer blog. Stay tuned!

Belgium vs Mexico: World Cup of Beer

2006-04-21T18:21:00.000-07:00

Leffe is a very proud and sparkling blonde and it takes pains to remind me of this fact over and over again on the label. I must say that I'm not too interested in blondes because there are a damn lot of them out there. For some who love blondes, the glut in the market is not noticeable, but I find myself discriminating against them as being too plain and average. This means for me to saddle up with a blonde, they have to go to great lengths to prove their quality to me. Touting the sheer "blondeness" of being a blonde comes off as juvenile, while simultaneously pretentious. Leffe even asked to be served in its own glass. Hello! High-Maintenance. To summarize, for Leffe and I, it was not love at first sight.

And it's very hard to build a new relationship especially if you have an old standard lingering around. This is where Mexico's Bohemia came in. And like most folks who would classify themselves as Bohemian, this beer is relatively cheap and easy. I've been partaking off and on for several years, and the combination of smoothness and fruity sweetness make for a very safe choice at the grocery store. Bohemia is a great fall-back beer, and perfect to have around in case your confidence is shaken by a very questionable pursuit of some new flashy blonde. The catch-12oz here is that you never really, fully, put yourself out there to love something new if you're hanging onto your old safety net.

So for the past week, Bohemia and Leffe have been warring for my affections. Leffe had a lightly sweet character and a tad bit more girth to it than the somewhat watery Bohemia. But the memorable flavor and abundantly sweet character of Bohemia made it hard for me to accept Leffe as an example of quality translating into greater satisfaction. Let's face it, who do you want to spend time with? Someone you're struggling to understand or someone you can get fucking smashed with easily for only a couple of bucks?

As the week went on and my supply of both dwindled, I held off making final decisions. I could always have Bohemia; probably would again throughout my life. And Leffe? Well, this might be my only shot to assess it's quality and appreciate its gracefulness. After Bohemia left, probably for some other guy’s house (we have a don't ask, don't tell relationship), Leffe and I had a nice quiet sit down in front of the TV. Neither one of us were really interested in watching it. But silence can be awkward.

As time passed I realized that Leffe wasn't juat an average blonde. No, she was classy, vibrant, and subtle. And while we didn't really hit it off, I managed to retain a measure of respect and admiration for her truly unique charms. Some may ask why I don't just find one good beer and stick with it. Surely, I'd be happy, right? Well, perhaps it's the will for adventure or the stubbornness at their being still so much more to learn. All I can say is that thanks to Leffe, I'll continue to stock my fridge with experimental brews for the sake of a deeper knowledge and thorough appreciation of all that is beer in this world.

Too Much Research

2006-04-08T12:07:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been drinking a lot of beers. Not just a lot in variety, but in quantity. This has stifled my ability to present quality drafts about drafts, leading to several disputes with my editorial staff. To offer the fans an overdue supplement, I would like to provide this assurance that the work I am doing now has some value, at least to me, in preserving a better future for myself and the beer blog.

You see, Nietzsche implied that in order to become the Ubermensch, we must first go under, go inward, become consumed with our chosen work, risking everything to become great, knowing that once we are on top, we will inevitability fall. And this is good. For me, it's a much less dramatic turn. I am headed under slightly, only to emerge later sufficiently atop a level of mediocrity upon which I will comfortably and greedily rest doing as little to no work as possible only to kick and scream little a baby when I begin to lose the triumph and semi-glory I no longer deserve.

In my dark days of all-consuming study, I have tasted the foul and the mighty of this world of beers. This week, I had Rasputin's Imperial Stout, which was heavy and dark like you'd expect, but lacking any chocolaty, burnt character, instead baring a powerful alcohol and spice combination which tangled my tongue in its complexity. Absent of the grittiness of an unrefined stout, it reminded me of a David Lynch film. You don't want to jump up in a room of your peers and say, "What the fuck!?! This isn't good! It's just messed up." Because you know they'll just roll their eyes and say, "You don't GET IT, man!" So you shut up, try to decipher the mystery and at some point you get a wicked headache and certain aspects of the experience haunt you for days and yet you still can't officially give it a grade as either good or bad. It's just there. I will say that you have to be in the mood for it, and since I can't identify when the hell that mood would ever strike me, I'm supposing that means this beer's a bit of dud. At least for me, because I don't get it.

In contrast, McEwan's Scottish Ale, haling from Scotland, is a beer that's simple to place. Yes, it kind of has that oddly wooden, medicinal taste like tongue-depressors, but I'd expect no less from any Scottish Ale. It's pretty filling, not entirely smooth, yet has a charmingly simple character. The two stand-out flavors defining this frothy dark brew are a punch of alcohol along side a burnt-fruity tone like baked bananas. McEwan's is no doubt a fair beer, which won't last very long as the weight and obvious flavor make it the perfect sit-down beer at just below room temperature. McEwan's has an aggressive force that you almost don't even notice. Like a weak old bartender with a crooked look in his eye that almost whispers "You will drink your paycheck here tonight or I'll jump over this bar and throttle you 'till you spit blood and shit your pants". Luckily, none of those things had to happen. In fact, if I had one suggestion for advertising for this beer it'd be the slogan: Quit Your Bitchin 'and Have a McEwan’s.

Now that my McEwan's is gone, somehow I'm in a daze so thick that Michelob Ultra managed to sneak into my refrigerator. There are a few Franziskaners left, but they can't hold off what's coming. At some point, someone has to deal with the situation. I think of it this way, though. I'm more of a Kung Fu master, bred to fight only when necessary and usually only in the big one-on-one final confrontations where people have been waiting the whole movie for me to step from beside the evil emperor and spin kick someone's head clean off. This is how I deal with beers. There's a special beer, a dark and dangerous foreboding beer, then you'd better call me, because I can deal with it using tack and diplomacy. I am not a barroom brawler. You can't drop me in the middle of a ratty 24-pack and expect me to go Jackie Chan on their asses. Maybe I was that guy in college, but I'm not that guy now. Still, perhaps my current lifestyle has afforded me too much luxury. Maybe I've forsaken my roots, forgotten that I am yet a young man, and that in this world, there is much work to be done. It may not always challenge my heart or my mind, but it still needs to be done. And the mark of a hero is not to squander his power and success, but to be ready, ever vigilant, to do what needs to be done for the greater good.

Perhaps the only thing harder to swallow than Michalob Ultra will be my pride.

Sam Adams White Ale: Better Than It Thinks

2006-03-31T20:38:00.000-08:00

With a low price of under $6 for a sixer, White Ale, one of many new flavors of Adams, still did not look appealing. For starters, it was the cheapest of the available styles and I kid you not, the label is actually advertising yet another beer, stating proudly that the Summer Ale is coming soon! What did I just buy, yeasts, grains, and chopped liver? Really, what kind of issues must a beer have to come out and advertise another beer on the label? Tack on the fact that the sampler pack of Sam Adams beers I got a few months ago was barely worth the snide remarks I gave it, and you can see why White Ale had barely anything going for it.

Though I don't know what the Summer Brew's going to be like, this White Ale is actually the first alternative Sam Adams style I've liked since Cherry Wheat. It's smooth, thirst-quenching, cloudy, and intriguing with just a hint of spice. Don't ask me what kind of spice. I couldn't tell you the difference between coriander and that stuff that makes your eyes glow blue in Dune.

I drank three of these in a sitting easily without getting too full, and each one was satisfyingly fresh. And probably the best part about it was how White Ale maintains a flavor very much a kin to the original Boston lager. The unique style with a familiar tone made for an overall positive experience. It was like meeting the look-a-like cousin of the girl who dumped you in high school. Sure, you don't know her all that well, but fooling around with her can help you relive some good memories and help put the bad ones behind you. And while it's probably inconsiderate of me to be with her, knowing I'm thinking about the original the whole time, I feel it is very good for me, therapeutic even. And in some way I'm owed this tasty little fling, because let's face it, that family has hurt me in the past, and while White Ale didn't teach me how to love again, I sure got my six dollars worth and what's left over I'm just kicking curb-side... into the recyclables bin.

Maybe it's the way I've treated White Ale and countless other beers, cheap and easy, that has contributed to her terrible lack of self-esteem. It is with some guilt that I recommend her to my friends, who will no doubt temporarily enjoy her, but never truly offer her love. Maybe someday, when White Ale learns to love herself, then we too will learn to respect her. Perhaps, we will never learn and the shame will forever haunt us. Thank goodness they're always making more beers so we never have to face any of the horrible truths of our existence.

Too Sick to Drink Beer

2006-03-18T20:19:00.000-08:00

Well, last week I bought two beers that unfortunately don't deserve to be given an article. One's a somewhat flat, dark microbrew called Turbodog, which tastes like salt water and ashtray. And the other was the somewhat disappointing seasonal Sierra Nevada called Big Foot Barely Wine Style Ale, a crudely bitter brew tasting of metal and perhaps Dial soap. I've had about three of each and haven't warmed up to either. Both are way too filling for their lack of deep flavor. While the Sierra is a somewhat memorable, snappy, yet uncouth hop-stavaganza, Turbodog is an ultra-typical microbrew that I'm sure will be impossible to recall in a matter of weeks.

I'd do more research, but I've caught the flu and it will keep me out of the beer tasting for this week. Hopefully my sickness will give me some to reflect, and maybe I won't buy whole six packs of questionable beers. Sure, there's a big payoff if one of them turns out to be good, but what seems to happen, more so with the microbrews, is I get stuck with six or twelve beers that I can barely stomach and a lack of fridge space for an emergency replacement.

I will go now and blow my nose for the seven-millionth time and then pass out somewhere with hot and cold flashes only to wake up sometime around 3am soaked with my own sweat suffering from a pounding headache. Yet, I still consider myself lucky to be incapable of having another gritty Turbodog. I'm such an ass when I'm sick.

Julius Echter Hefe-Weiss-Dunkel: The Unauthorized Biography

2006-03-05T13:00:00.000-08:00

To understand this beer, it is important to get to know the character of the man behind the brew. Julius Echter was one of the key names in German history for shaping the religious landscape during his time as Prince-Bishop of Würzburg. He was very ambitious at the start, and very goal-oriented; his goal being a full "ecclesiastical restoration" of his mostly protestant diocese. Can you believe that? The place was crawling with Protestants? Who dropped the fucking ball on that one?

Well history records it was probably a fall-out from the disposed Prince-Abbot Balthasar von Dernbach, whose reign produced nowhere near adequate amounts of inspirado to warrant a beer... not even a hard cider. Let it be noted, if you have a beer named after you, you've profoundly changed religious culture, and if you have a hard lemonade named after you then you're probably famous in your hometown for appearing on the Jerry Springer Show in an episode devoted to your penchant for sheep molestation.

Julius Echter was the driving force behind a new university, which taught all the important topics. With classes for Catholics like: Being a Better Catholic 101 and Catholicism in Everyday Life. And a few diverse offerings geared toward non-Catholics like: Eternal Damnation Workshop & Discussion Group and Protestantism & the Dangers of Burning in Hell 105.

Julius Echter was able to bring in over 100,000 new Catholics during his time, and in addition to the beer, he has a very fine set of towers and a really great hospital named after him. To sum it all up, people not currently burning in hell loved Julius Echter with a passion. And it's no surprise that the people would demand in his honor a beverage with a strong, lacy head, only mild bitterness, and some alluring fruity undertones.

Those unfamiliar with Echter, probably won't fully appreciate the raw historical significance of the flavors. You sort of had to be there, yah know?

So, whether you're at home being Catholic and despondent that you’re hopelessly Protestant golfing buddy is surely going to hell or you're at home being Protestant trying in vain to enjoy life despite the inevitability of God’s fiery wrath, grab yourself an ice cold Julius Etcher. It’s usually less than $2, and Julius, a notably responsible economist, would definitely agree with those numbers.

I have one little adjunct to this review, however...

This beer is kind of watery, a little stinky, and to be frank, who gives a crap about the lacy head or the baked banana undertones. Its main characteristics are that it's kind of watery and bares a somewhat foul sourness in the aftertaste. But hey, if you like Julius Echter the man, you'll find a way to like this beer. It's the same reason I love Mr. T cereal. And if I had the choice between Julius Etcher's hefe and Mr. T cereal mixed in a blender with some Coors, I've got to tell you, it's a toss up.

Mackeson Triple X Stout: Cares About Your Family

2006-03-05T12:59:00.000-08:00

Triple X means a lot of things to a lot of people. So, you could go into the tasting of this beer with a lot of expectations. Folks "in the know" may be expecting a sort of creamy, dark beverage often referred to as a milk beer. Others may be expecting some explosions involving Vin Diesel crashing semi-truck, only to escape death on a snowboard. Some, taking the label for a parental warning, may be swayed from giving this beer to thier children. And if you're in the habit of letting a beer's label dissuade you from giving it to your children, then that’s your parenting choice, and I will have to respect it.

With all that said, let me outline the honest-to-God truth about this beer: Triple X is, in fact, a heavy, almost soupy beer with powerful chocolate flavor and a spooky reddish hue. The beer is surprisingly smooth and lacks the grittiness or an overbearing alcohol taste found in many stouts. It's quite good, quite unique, a little filling, and what it lacks in carbonation and liveliness, it makes up for in drinkability.

Action-packed? - Nope. Not really. In fact, if Vin Diesel drank two of these, the only action sequence he'd be ready for is an inter-galactic battle on the planet Crapper, where it's not so much important that he save the world, only that he lights a match when he's done and maybe changes the Glade plug-in.

Too racy for the kids, though? - Well, if I'm to believe most beer commercials on television, then ALL beer is too racy for children, since it surely leads to irresponsible sexual relations with promiscuous bikini-clad women. The fact that I have not been able to personally substantiate this occurrence, however, furthers my belief that not everything I see on TV is true. Yet, I applaud the fact that Mackeson was tactful enough to put the warning letters on their beer anyway, just in case it may have the potential to corrupt our youth. There are enough things to worry about with kids these days. It's important that these labels are present to help guide us. Otherwise, when we innocently give alcoholic beverages to our children, the next thing we know, without any fair warning, Carmen Elektra could suddenly burst from the closet proceeding to bump n' grind against the side of their racecar beds dressed as a slutty cow girl. Do you really want to take a chance with something like that?

Thanks Mackeson, for looking out for our kids! And thank you for a noteworthy beer experience.

PS. I did not photoshop this picture. I actually found this shit AFTER writing the article. Holy Shit!

Wychwood's Hobgoblin Tricked Me!

2006-03-05T12:58:00.000-08:00

Alas! I was tricked by that rouge nave, Robin Goodfellow. And while he did not turn into a horse and take me for a dangerous joy ride, he did get me to spend eight hard-earned dollars on his beer. As I recall from my English lit classes, you're supposed to be able to make Hobgoblins do household chores for you for some outrageously cheap price like a bowl of cream. Seriously! Things have changed since then! I had Hobgoblin over at my house last night, and I'm not one to lay blame, but somehow the laundry didn't get done and my wallet's a whole lot lighter for it. This beer is false advertising at its most antiquated.

Oh well. Once again, I was tricked by a very, very cool label into buying a beer way out of my price range. And I admit, I almost didn't go for it since I was disappointed by Wychwood's Scarecrow. However, I am really rather glad I got this beer. While not exceedingly memorable or unique, it was brightened by mild hops, while smooth and flavorful. It's a beer with a lot of tiny details that are actually hard to focus the pallet on since it’s so gosh darn easy to kick one back. I went through a six-pack like it was nothing. And you should see the way I go through nothing. I go through nothing like it's nobody's business. And if there's anybody who can go through nobody's business, it's me. Hell, I'm practically been the Nobody's-Business Analyst for my company for the last three years, and I'm definitely through with doing that.

Hobgoblin would suite just about any person who enjoys beer. If you're looking for something that's wild with character and intrigue, then you may be surprised to find that despite a dark and mysterious label, this beer is just good beer. Not a whole lot more too it. No strange spices. No super high hop or malt content. Just a smooth, warm, lively beer that really hits the spot. And while I still think Hobgoblin took me for about $1.50 more than he's worth, I will try to learn from my mistakes. Now off I go back to the supermarket to make more beer selections purely based the coolness of the label.

Maudite: More Evil From Canada

2006-03-05T12:02:00.000-08:00

A long time ago there was an incident occurring when I entered the new Beverages & More in Costa Mesa where I found the beer aisles to be stocked with a ton of satanic beer labels, such as Unibroue and Arrogant Bastard Ale. The devil does not frighten me so much as his pairing with a large corporate beverage store. Throw in the fact that Unibroue beers are from Canada, the place that gave us Brian Adams, and you've got yourself an unholy beer trinity.

I got over that whole experience, because Unibroue, like sin, was pretty enjoyable. I did not succumb to the temptation to try their other brands, because like sin, they can be very costly, to my wallet and in turn, my soul. However, a great fan of the website, whom I have sex with out of wedlock, purchased Maudite for my research and I was faced with Unibroue’s demonic creature, once again, featured alongside a levitating canoe in a darkening red sky. Despite this warning, I expected the beer to be somewhat classy and smooth given the character of Blanche De Chambly. It turned out resembling brimstone in a bottle.

And I know I say that some beers are mean, either because they're super-hoppy or over-powering with alcohol. This beer wasn't really that down-home, angry guy on the porch kind of mean that you get from micro-brew pale ales. It was very refined, direct, and even somewhat sadistic with its brutal alcohol overtones. These overtones were so over, that the tiny undertones of fruit where damned into near subterranean-tones. A somewhat heavy ale with a sharp punch and a snap of bitterness, this beer is perfect for someone who's desensitized by a harsh life of IPA drinking and is looking for something a little heavier with a cold and aggressive kick. This beer is the unfeeling, vicious sniper of red ales with the flavor equivalent to a warm bag of glass.

I know that sounds bad, but this beer is of an extremely high quality. It's not intriguing or deep with a myriad of flavors. Yet, it's ruthless potency lends a shimmering aura to the red ale, which can be construed as awesome... in the old sense, like how if you ever saw God's face your head would explode from too much awe. Beware! This beer is spiked to hell with awe. So, should you choose to try this beer, and step onto the canoe with Satan himself, be ye warned! The stygian stream on which you travel is situated somewhere between awe-some and awe-ful.

St. Peter's Old Style Porter

2006-02-15T20:01:00.000-08:00

Many readers of this blog may recall I have been growing fond of porters. Many readers of my student loan bills may also recall I spent way too much money on beer this month. This means if I don't come up with some good writing about this St. Peter's, then I will not be able to justify any further beer-driven fiscal decline.

Oddly, though, there is very little to say about this porter. It was creamy, rich, but disappointingly flat. Porters can be a little heavy and lazy on the tongue, but usually a nice kick of alcohol is enough to perk up the senses. Not in this cases. The flavor is very subtle, refined, and somewhat elegant... in absolutely lame way, like when your highbrow friend takes you to a dance recital and your sensory appraisal leaves you too bored to even enjoy the pretty girls in tights. Sure, it's undeniably good, in that arty sort of way, but it does not really reach out and grab you... I want a beer like a 3-D cyborg action zombie movie staring Jackie Chan, a trained attack monkey, and a wise-crackin' two-headed transvestite attorney named Larry. This beer was more like a movie staring Colin Firth, Glenn Close, and a loquacious bail of hay with narcolepsy.

I'm really not in the mood to rubberstamp a beer just because they're nothing particularly wrong or bad about it. Frankly, I have always had high standards on just about everything, with notable exception of food, films, and female companionship (They all smell so nice (The Alamo Drafthouse serves food at the movies, which often smells nice, thus films themselves, though not producing an olfactory experience per se (except that one time when I was at the movies and Suburban Commando (the most watchable, and maybe only potentially watchable Hulk Hogan film ever made)got tangled in the projector and caught on fire), the experience of going to the movies can smell quite nice.)!)

Take that, high school English teacher!

Oh well. I've still got a lot of beer left to review. I purchased some Hobgoblin from Wychwood, and then I bested the faerie king whilst blowing upon my magic lute. I'll regale you with that tale of mirth and whimsy after I pour myself a glass and get in my prime sitting spot for the rest of the evening.

Take that, high school gym teacher!