Port Brewing Company Old Viscosity Ale

Well, I saved the best for last. I'll round out this new year's tour of California micro-breweries by heading down south to San Marcos for a $5.99 bomber of Port Brewing Company's Old Viscosity Ale. If you don't feel like reading a bunch of long winded, rosy prose, I LIKE THIS BEER A LOT AND THINK IT'S REALLY YUMMY! YUM!

As the name implies, Old Viscosity is as thick as used engine oil. Not only is it thick, but it is black as night. I held this pint up to a 100 watt light bulb to see if any luminescence would make its way through, and not a hint of brightness emerged. The ale pours with almost no trace of head, which only reinforces its resemblance to crude oil. Thankfully, the beer tastes nothing like petroleum.

At first, the 10% ABV slaps you in the face. But, as if being slapped by an adored lover, the brash alcohol zip is quickly soothed and transitions into more of a smooth, high end whiskey finish. Old Viscosity is aged in oak barrels, and the cask taste makes its appearance with the whiskey. The co-stars that emerge on the palate are subtle: roasted coffee, molasses, maybe a hint of anise.

This beer made me an instant fan of Port Brewing. The small company has a somewhat interesting story that involves them collaborating with another San Diego area craft brewery, Stone Brewing Company, to increase its distribution. I'm appreciative of this collaboration, since it means that I no longer have to drive to Berkeley to find Port's gems. If you ever find yourself in California, be sure to track down a bottle of Old Viscosity.

Firestone Walker Velvet Merlin Oatmeal Stout

Like Anderson Valley Brewing, Firestone Walker is a fairly small California microbrewery with limited regional distribution. New this year to the Firestone repertoire is their oatmeal stout, Velvet Merlin. According to the packaging, "Velvet Merlin is also partially blended with Merlin that has been aged in bourbon barrels for a year. The aging adds even more complexity to this very rich beer. The use of US grown Fuggles gives the perfect hop flavor to this exceptionally well-balanced beer."

Let me begin by saying that Velvet Merlin is, obviously, a much more appropriate winter beer than Anderson Valley's High Rollers. This oatmeal stout is thick and creamy like any good stout should be. The usual roast grain, coffee, and chocolate flavors are present, but there is a strange, harsh taste that overwhelms the finish. Though Velvet Merlin is only 5.5% alcohol by volume, the harshness seems reminiscent of high proof liquor. Could this be the complexity added by the mixing of bourbon barrel-aged beer into the blend? Despite the harsh finish, Velvet Merlin is a nice addition to the Firestone Walker collection and reasonably priced at $7.99 for a six-pack.

Anderson Valley High Rollers Wheat Beer

Happy New Year! I've never been very interested in celebrating on new year's eve. This is quite likely the result of my tendency to want to be in bed by 10:30 PM. My scrooge-like disinterest could also be attributed to what happened the one time I decided to attend a new year's eve party with Davis thrown by a bunch of Grinnell College alums in the middle of Harlem. Feeling extraordinarily awkward having not attended Grinnell, I proceeded to drink more beer, rum, and whiskey than a D.A.R.E. officer could ever smile upon. My excessive consumption came back to haunt me in two distinct ways in the following 12 hours as I struggled first to enjoy having met my now ex-girlfriend and then, the following morning, attempted to avoid suffocating my now ex-girlfriend as my intestines rebelled. No matter the reason, I'm staying home with the cat and dog this new years and watching The Expendables.

Keeping with the tradition of drinking to ring in the new year, I'll be reviewing a couple of beers I have stashed in the fridge this evening. First up is an unlikely candidate: Anderson Valley Brewing Company's High Rollers Wheat Beer. I just bought a six-pack of this summer ale at a discount grocer for $5, as compared to the normal $9 price tag. The thought of drinking a wheat beer in December seemed absurd, but the price was right and I have a soft spot for Anderson Valley Brewing.

Why do I like Anderson Valley, you ask? Well, they have a large solar array that powers their brewery for starters. The crusty tree-hugging environmentalist in me likes that. The brewery also produces the Barney Flats Oatmeal Stout, which I can credit for helping me avoid therapy my first year of graduate school. Another plus is that all of the Anderson Valley brews reflect an effort to preserve the local culture of the quirky California coastal region. Settlers in the late 1800s developed a unique local dialect called Bontling that peppers the labels and names of the brewery's offerings. From this bottle: "It's a slow lope'n a beson tree," which translates to, "It's mellow and easy going."

Despite my appreciation for Anderson Valley, I have little affection for wheat beers. I have long considered wheat beers the ale equivalent of the Milwaukee Brewers' utilityman Craig Counsell. On all objective measures, both Counsell and wheat beers aren't very good. So, why do they stick around? Well, they are versatile in their respective unoffensive existence. Rather, they aren't very good, but are they really all that bad? I guess they both represent some sort of nostalgic notion of purity, too. Counsell is the unlikely awkward local kid who scrapped his way into the majors instead of attending a baseball academy in the Dominican Republic. Wheat beers are the iconic American summer brew that provide the background to barbecues, the Fourth of July, and, well, baseball (assuming we exclude the macro-brewed rice-based lagers).

Anderson Valley's High Rollers Wheat Beer lives up to my expectations. It's crisp and slightly lemony. There's a slight hint of sweet grain that makes itself about as known as Counsell's bat. Mostly, though, it tastes like Coors without the offensive metallic punch and a slightly higher 5.3% ABV. I can see the refreshing potential of High Rollers on a hot summer evening, but the price better be low... just like Craig Counsell.

North Coast Brother Thelonious Belgian Style Abbey Ale

I drink my Brother Thelonious Straight, No Chaser. Ugh, that's a bad joke that maybe only Ken Burns or my University of Iowa History of Jazz professor would chuckle at.

First, a big thank you to my friend Mark for getting me this 25.4 ounce bottle as a Christmas gift. Second, major point deduction for being the most difficult bottle of beer to open in the world. I spent a good 4 minutes prying at the cork with a corkscrew inserted before I was able to liberate the sweet libation. Third, I spilled a little bit of Brother Thelonious on my cat. He seemed to pretend that he didn't have beer all over his back at first, then proceeded to take great joy in licking it off. If Sig were writing this review, he would say something like "rrow yummy prrr."

Brother Thelonious is, apparently, one offering in the American Artisan Series. As far as I can tell, though, the only other offering is Le Merle Belgian Style Farmhouse Ale also brewed by North Coast. Unlike most Belgian beers, Brother Thelonious is subtle. Not subtle as a euphemism for not having any flavor, but subtle as in not drowning the drinker in a sea of coriander and orange peel and "spice." At first I taste mild cloves, which then fade into a sort of rasiny flavor. The raisins linger while a molasses and anise chord are struck. The finish tastes of peculiar rotten fruit; maybe the result of the beefy 9.4% ABV. I can't say that I'd dish out the big bucks to enjoy Brother Thelonious, but it is a great gift treat. The gift-giver can feel good about himself, too; part of the proceeds from each bottle of this abbey ale go to the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz.

Lagunitas Brown Shugga'

'Tis the season to drink high ABV barleywines and stouts! Though Lagunitas' "Brown Shugga'" Ale is neither (although it is apparently the result of a failed batch of Lagunitas' barleywine "Old Gnarleywine"), it's 9.99% ABV and limited seasonal availability make it a fitting beer for the times.

The bottle vaguely describes the brewing process by stating, "Feeding Brown Cane Sugar to otherwise Cultured Brewery Yeast is a'kin to feeding Raw Shark to your Gerbil." My experience with other alcoholic beverages brewed with raw cane sugar has been very mixed. Chicha, one of the most popular traditional drinks in Nicaragua, is made by adding bricks of unrefined brown sugar each day to feed wild yeast strains in a 5-gallon bucket of water and sprouted corn to yield a highly alcoholic "Chicha Bruja," or "witch's chicha." Some batches of chicha bruja are sweet, smooth, and fruity. Some batches taste like thick corn alcohol and give you the shits for two days after drinking just 8 ounces. Thankfully, the results of enjoying a 12 ounce bottle of Brown Shugga' are not the same.

Brown Shugga' is, as the name might suggest, very sweet. It isn't sweet like a malty stout. It is sweet like an apricot tart that had an extra cup of sugar accidentally dumped into the baking pan that caramelized all over the treat. The 10% ABV lingers quietly, but unmistakably behind the sugary sweetness. Not surprisingly given its origins, the grain palate is almost identical to a barleywine. Yep, Brown Shugga' is basically a super-sweet, caramely barleywine. A 6-pack will run about $10, but is a great way to get socially awkward crowds to open up a little bit.

North Coast Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout

Interesting anecdote about Rasputin: "Allegations of sexual misconduct were no doubt encouraged by his frequently embarrassing drunken behavior; on one occasion documented by a History Channel documentary he is said to have opened his pants and waved his penis in front of shocked diners at a Saint Petersburg restaurant whilst inebriated." It is only fitting, then, that a deliciously potent 9% ABV stout be named in his honor.

Old Rasputin has long been one of my favorite stouts. The alcohol content is high enough that a 12 ounce bottle will typically warm you up just enough to stave off the winter chills. The taste is that of roast grain and dark chocolate: slightly bitter, but rich and thick. I'm also a fan of the short, stocky bottles (also used by Sierra Nevada, Lagunitas, and other mostly west coast breweries) as opposed to the dominant 12 ounce long neck. A four pack will set you back about $7, but the warming effect of the brew will likely offset your heating bill by at least $2 per bottle, so you're essentially earning $1 each time you by a case. At least that is how I've rationalized my consumption...

Aventinus Wheat Doppelbock

Apparently, Aventinus brews this wheat doppelbock "according to the Reinheitsgebot." For those of you who are not aware (myself included), "Reinheitsgebot" translates roughly to "Bavarian Purity Law" and was historically used to restrict the German beer-making ingredients to hops, barley, and water. I did not know this fact at the time I purchased the Aventinus Wheat Doppelbock, but the large, foreign word impressed me enough to buy the 16.9 ounce bottle for $4.19.

The bottle claims that the beer has "received accolades for the perfect balance of fruity spiciness (banana, clove, vanilla) and notes of chocolate." Clove is definitely the most predominate taste, but an easily perceptible chocolate-Twizzler flavor accompanies the spice. As the beer warms and the effects of the 8.2% ABV manifest themselves on an empty stomach, the doppelbock begins to taste more and more like the scented candle aisle at Michael's or JoAnn's Fabric. Not such a good, or pure, way to end, but it was enjoyable until the last four ounces or so.

St Sebastiaan Golden Ale

Ok, I'll admit it. I bought this beer mainly because of the attractive limited edition silk-screened bottle and artsy booklet that was attached. I don't dislike Belgian style ales, but I rarely drink them aside from a Blue Moon at the burger place in Davis every now and then. So, doling out $12 for a 16.9 ounce bottle of St Sebastiaan's Golden Ale was, essentially, an impulse buy.

Like most Belgian ales, this one smells like peaches and tastes "like potpourri, but in a good way," according to my girlfriend. The typical coriander and citrus hit heavy with a clove-laced floral assault. My initial thought was that it tasted like a perfumey cleaning product, but the harshness fades and the complex flavor array lingers pleasantly and easily hides the 7.6% ABV. It's a bit too musky and heavily spiced for my liking, but St Sebastiaan's Golden Ale wouldn't be bad if it were $8 a pint cheaper.

The bottle is really pretty, though.

Ninkasi Oatis Oatmeal Stout

Back-2-back stouts! I had never heard of Ninkasi Brewing Company out of Eugene, Oregon until last week. The brewery was mentioned in one of the anonymous comments written in the monthly food co-op newsletter where people bitch about a low supply of fair-trade organic sustainably harvested filberts and that the energy efficiency of the dairy aisle could be improved by killing all dairy consuming beings. The response to why the co-op did not carry Ninkasi beer mentioned that their brews were "delicious," which of course piqued my curiosity.

After taking the dog on a hike north of Sacramento, we stopped at the Citrus Heights Beverages and More! to stock up on, well, beverages (but no more!). Though the co-op's beer distributor can't provide it, BevMo! had a hearty supply of 22 ounce bottles of the Ninkasi Oatis Oatmeal Stout for $3.99 a piece. Maybe if those filthy hippie Davis Food Co-Op patrons weren't so opposed to driving a few miles for tasty beer, they wouldn't have to complain about not being able to find Ninkasi in the monthly newsletter.

The stout lives up to the hype. Ninkasi's stout is slightly smoother and less acidic than the Rogue Chocolate Stout. There is still a roasted coffee taste, but it is more subtle than the Rogue version. The 7.2% ABV is completely hidden and gives Ninkasi a clear win in the alcohol:cost ratio category when pitted against Rogue.

Pairs well with 2-week old roast peahen stew.

Rogue Chocolate Stout

I don't often like to talk about how a beer smells, unless it wreaks of death or has a really crisp fruity nose. However, Rogue's Chocolate Stout smells good. Really good. Opening the bottle is like plugging in a Glade air-freshener that is roasted coffee, dark chocolate, oatmeal, and malt scented instead of something like "Spring Meadow."

The taste is essentially just like the scent. The stout is thick, but not syrupy. The acidity of coffee (I don't think there is actually coffee in this, but maybe the taste comes from the roasted barley) nicely accompanies the bitterness of the chocolate and the sweet malt. I wouldn't say that this is as good as the Sierra Nevada 30th Anniversary Stout or even Port's Old Viscosity Ale (review forthcoming), but Rogue turns in a solid performance on their $5.99, 6.3% ABV bomber.

PS- The other blog contributors need to drink and/or write more.

Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Jack and Ken's Black Barleywine Ale

I'm always excited when I get a beer in a corked 25.4 ounce bottle. Not only does it bring back fond memories of other delectable beers, like Brooklyn Brewery's Local Number 1, but it's also just fun and sophisticated-feeling to pop open a bottle of beer. Having already thoroughly enjoyed Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Fritz and Ken's Stout, I had high expectations for the 30th Anniversary Jack and Ken's Black Barleywine Ale. The brew did not disappoint.

The barleywine is nearly black and produces a thick, creamy head. My first sip inspired the comment, "holy shit, this tastes like a stout." Jack and Ken's Ale is super smooth and grainy sweet with a slight alcohol finish (which shouldn't be a surprise given its 10.2% ABV). It definitely tastes more like a barleywine as it warms, but it retains that stouty roast chocolate undertone in its flavor assault.

In summary, this beer is yummy. Quit pinching pennies and drop the $10 to buy a bottle of this and another $10 for the Fritz and Ken's Stout, if you can still find it.

Shipyard's Smashed Pumpkin mixed with Guinness Extra Stout

As mentioned in my previous post reviewing the Smuttynose Pumpkin Ale, Shipyard's Smashed Pumpkin Ale is one of my absolute favorites of the fall seasonal brews. A 22-ounce bomber will set you back about $6, but the taste is well worth the investment. Shipyard has managed to do what no other brewery can; brew a pumpkin beer that actually tastes like pumpkin and not just pumpkin pie spice. Sure, the cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg are present, but they are all bound by a sort of meaty-savory pumpkin undercurrent that other pumpkin ales lack. The hefty 9% ABV is very well masked by the complex flavors and textures.

The back of the bottle suggests that the consumer "try adding a little Shipyard Blue Fin Stout to Smashed Pumpkin for a fall warmer." What a novel idea! During my recent trip to Boston, I was tantalized by the availability of Cape Ann Brewing Company Fisherman's Pumpkin Stout. On a solo trip to the bar to watch the Padres bend over and give up a chance at post-season glory, I eagerly ordered a pint of the pumpkin stout. Just as the San Diego Dads disappointed, so did the beer. It was a decent stout, but there was no sign of anything having to do with pumpkins or fall or allspice. The resulting feeling of deception lead me to drink much more than one man should have ever consumed in a 3-hour window.

Unfortunately, Shipyard's Blue Fin Stout is not available in California. After consulting another amateur beer connoisseur with easy access to the stout, I decided that Guinness would provide the most suitable replacement. I love stouts, but I've never been fond of Guinness. I pleaded with my insider source to recommend a delicious chocolate or oatmeal microbrewed stout, but he insisted that a lighter dry stout would be more true to the Blue Fin taste. So, I dropped an additional $4 on a 22-ounce bottle of Guinness Extra Stout and waited for the 100-degree temperatures to subside.

The result of mixing 3 parts pumpkin ale to 1 part stout is delicious. The Guinness completely hides any lingering hint that you might be drinking a 9% ABV brew. The spice and pumpkin taste of the Shipyard ale are somehow accentuated, not dulled by adding in the stout. I'm not sure if I like the "fall warmer" any better than the straight Smashed Pumpkin Ale, but it's damn good nonetheless. I'd like to try this again with a slightly more chocolaty, less objectionable stout.

Stiegl's Lemon Radler

At the height of the Californian summer, my girlfriend, sister, and I ate dinner at a Burmese restaurant in Oakland. The food was fine, but the real highlight of the meal was the small pitcher of "Burmese Cooler" that we shared. The cooler consisted of a light pale ale mixed with lemonade and ginger to create an incredibly crisp, fresh, and dangerously chugable thirst-quencher.

Stiegl's Lemon Radler, brewed by Austria's largest private brewing company (or so it is claimed on the label), was recommended to me by another friend as something comparable to the "Burmese Cooler" that I had described. The Radler is made by mixing equal parts Stiegl Goldbräu Premium Lager and lemon soda in 16.9 ounce bottles that sell for about $4.50. There are apparently two other flavors, raspberry and grapefruit, that are also brewed by Stiegl. The resulting beverage is incredibly light, smooth, and bubbly. The lemon taste is subtle and not really sweet like you might expect a lemon drink (like Sprite) to be. However, the Radler lacks the crispness and refreshing zing that the ginger (and maybe the fresh-squeezed lemonade) added to the "Burmese Cooler." This brew is refreshing at first, but quickly becomes more like drinking a diluted citrus cleaning product as the bottle warms and the carbonation decreases. Ok, maybe it isn't quite that bad, but I'd be very tempted to treat a bottle of this as if it were Gatorade after a triathlon if I drink it again. No need to worry, shotgunning a Radler shouldn't even lead to mild intoxication since it clocks in at a featherweight 2.5% ABV.

Old Dominion Octoberfest! is not a party!

Yes, I know that Anheuser-Busch bought Old Dominion in 2007. Still, I enjoy their Lager, and their Oak Barrel Stout is not too shabby. So when I saw their Octoberfest! [emphasis theirs] at our local grocery store, I thought it was worth a try. I was wrong.

They describe it thusly, "Our Autumn Seasonal beer is a traditional Maerzen style lager. We use eight types of imported German malts and four hop varieties to create this copper-colored fest beer." All I taste is malt. There are hints of burnt caramel and an attempt at spice, but really it's just a strong malt flavor. At 5.6% ABV, it's slightly higher than your typical beer, but a six-pack will run you $8.99.

Smuttynose Pumpkin Ale

Despite the recent string of 104 degree days in northern California, fall is upon us. This means that the thick stouts and porters of winter are just around the corner. Before we have the pleasure of chewing those malty seasonals, we must endure the notoriously hit-or-miss pumpkin ale era.

For whatever reason (perhaps the lack of a legitimate autumn), the west coast seems to provide few pumpkin brews for review. Thankfully, I'm in Boston for a week for my girlfriend's sister's wedding and can dabble in some beer reviews while she is busy zipping dresses and curling hair. I've already inhaled a draught pint of the Dogfishead Punkin' Ale and have been tempted twice by one of my favorites, Shipyard's Smashed Pumpkin. My choice at the liquor store up the street, however, was Smuttynose Brewing Company's Pumpkin Ale.

I like my pumpkin ales to meet two simple criteria:

1. Be brewed with actual pumpkin, not just spices.
2. Not obliterate your senses with cinnamon, clove, and all-spice.

Smuttynose easily passes these two tests. The pumpkin taste is present, but not overpowering. The ale is smooth and crisp at first, but seems to develop a sort of skunky IPA taste as the bottom of the bottle approaches. Smuttynose certainly deserves entry into the upper tier of pumpkin ale brewers, but its 5% ABV $1.80 per bottle concoction pales in comparison to its east coast rivals like Saranac, Shipyard, and Dogfishead.

Earthquake High Gravity Lager

Since some of the blog contributors seem to be either missing in action or going on a crazy bender that will yield multiple reviews upon its completion, I decided to shake things up a little bit. Most obviously, I changed the layout and design of the page to convey more "drinking is enjoyable" and less "let's study 6th grade world geography." As would be my luck, I ran into an opportunity to further shake things up tonight when I found a tallboy of Earthquake High Gravity Lager for sale at the gas station for just $1.39.

Based upon the can design and the ridiculously high 12% ABV, I thought Earthquake was one of those malt liquor/energy drink combos that Davis is so fond of. Upon further research, it turns out Earthquake is brewed by the makers of Four Loko, so my suspicions were not unfounded. To my surprise (and delight), Earthquake is caffeine free and contains no guarana. My praises of this beer end there.

It's never a good sign when a brew is the same color as your piss is going to be the next morning. It's an even worse sign when it smells so strongly of rotten fruit that you gag. I should have stopped there before even tasting this travesty. However, I was determined to make up for the lack of reviews from other contributors and powered through.

Having consumed plenty of low quality malt beverages in my time (see Kiwi-Strawberry Evil Eye, for example), I decided to try to overwhelm my taste buds with a flavor other than stank liquor. With a mouthful of Flamin' Hot Límon Cheetos, I carefully took my first sip of Earthquake. The result was an inappropriately loud "BLECH!" Wow, this is awful! I can't remember the last time I actually considered pouring an open container of beer down the drain, but I certainly did tonight. Imagine what might happen if you were possessed to take a 40 of St. Ides, dump it into a large bowl with several rotten apples and two pounds of refined granulated sugar, then add just enough bleach to sear your throat before mixing up this witch's brew and canning it. What might happen? Earthquake High Gravity Lager just might.

Despite its clear and numerous flaws, this beer is clearly on the market for a reason. Here are some hypotheses as to what that reason may be:

1. To get you really drunk for really cheap (definitely feeling it after just 12 ounces).
2. To create a high level of toxicity in your body to help eliminate warts (will keep you posted).
3. To deter the poor bastards who buy this shit from ever drinking again.
4. To improve the sustainability of the apple cider industry by making use of below-grade product.

Unless you are an unwavering advocate of any of the movements possibly affiliated with theories 1-4, avoid Earthquake High Gravity Lager at all costs and save your money for a bag of California Earthquake Chips.

Bison Brewing Organic Chocolate Stout

As a general rule, I try to avoid organic beer. It has nothing to do with any objection to the agricultural practices behind the organic label; I'm employed by an organic farm. It has to do with the fact that all of the organic beers that I had tried seemed to rely solely on consumers' demand for an organic spirit to accompany their locally grown rutabaga/kohlrabi/beet salad with unpasteurized free range goat cheese. That is to say: they didn't taste very good despite being made with "premium" ingredients that inflated their cost to an obscene level.

In his stubborn insistence to find a beer at the store that I had never tried, AldeBeer managed to shatter my aforementioned organic beer rule. Bison Brewing's Organic Chocolate Stout is, simply stated, delicious. It's thick, creamy, sweet, and even manages to avoid bashing you over the head with chocolate and coffee flavors while allowing their subtly bitter influence to linger on the palate. I didn't buy the 6-pack, but I think it was about $9 for the 5.0% ABV stout. Thanks, AldeBeer, for challenging my beer biases and for kicking my ass at both racket and basketball.

Keystone Light

Sometimes an objectively offensive beer can be delectable if it can capture the essence of a pleasant moment from your past. I was hoping that Keystone Light would do just that for me this evening.

During the winter vacation that followed my college graduation and preceded my departure to Nicaragua by several weeks, Davis and I purchased a 30-rack of Keystone Light to enjoy with an unusual mix of Valley High School alum in my mother's home in Clive, Iowa. Unlike most graduates from the University of Iowa, I had tasted very few macrobrews at that point in my life. For those of you who aren't aware, I didn't start drinking until well after having turned 21. When I did start drinking, I limited my beer intake to local Eastern Iowa brews like Millstream's Wheat Ale. Davis blew my mind with the seductively fruity taste of Keystone Light. Not only did the beer reek of banana peels, it really tasted like one of those weird Laffy Taffy attempts to capture the banana flavor.

I wanted to indulge in that banana brew nostalgia this evening. Unfortunately, I ended up with a more-costly-than-anticipated $8 12-pack of tasteless crap. It certainly seems to live up to its slogan "always smooth," but that watery chugability comes at the cost of an abysmally low 4.2% ABV. Whereas Milwaukee's Best provides a crisp grain subtlety, Keystone Light's predominate taste is water. Props on the ergonomic can shape, but I think I'd have to drink all 12 of these to even feel a buzz.

"Smooth: A hot tub.
Smoother: A hot tub in the back of your limo."

At least I got this helpful life lesson out of the deal...

Lagunitas Hop Stoopid Ale

Any respectable west coast brewery needs a put-some-hair-on-your-chest super-hopped ale. Most of these IPAs brag about the ludicrous amount of hops used in each batch to boost the International Bittering Units measurement to 100 or above. The Hop Stoopid Ale from Lagunitas follows suit by serving up a double IPA with 102 IBUs and 8% ABV. But wait, where is the description of the 400 pounds of Chinook hops used per batch??? Instead of loading down the brew with hop cones, the folks at Lagunitas took a tip from the big macrobrewers and doused the Hop Stoopid Ale with hop extracts. I can't claim that my palate is refined enough to tell the difference without the aid of the text on the bottle. However, this double IPA seems a bit too smooth, a bit less earthy-tasting, and with a bit too much of a concentrated lip-puckering bitterness to be the product of a natural hop infusion. The subtle floral and fruity notes that are present in the other big west coast IPAs are largely absent, replaced with a generically sweet malt finish. Not bad for a $4.50 bomber, but both Lagunitas and the hop-addict can do better than the Hop Stoopid Ale.

Pairs well with Turbos Flamas chips by Sabritas.

Milwaukee's Best Premium Beer

My girlfriend and I just moved from the elitist college town of Davis, California to the blue collar county seat of Yolo County, Woodland, California. There are a number of obvious superficial differences between the populace of Davis and Woodland. There are more manicured goatees in Woodland and more unkempt Marxian beards in Davis. The vehicle of choice in Davis is a bicycle or a Prius, whereas the Woodlander vastly prefers the Ford F-250 with at least a 6 inch lift and a custom skid plate/bumper package. The cancer-averse vegetarians of Davis don't leave home without large sunhats to protect their delicate porcelain skin from UV radiation, while those in Woodland are either Hispanic or sunburned pink, doing true justice to the slang term "redneck."

No one enjoys moving, but everyone enjoys celebrating having finally finished relocating all of your belongings to a new place called home. That celebration should, of course, be paired with an appropriate beer that somehow embodies your new community. Exhausted from hauling boxes, I contemplated my libation options. A west coast über-hoppy IPA to honor the spirit of northern California agriculture? C'mon, too generic. Maybe a bold and fruity Belgian to represent the vast fruit and nut tree orchards that surround my new home? Too pretentious and expensive.

After much deliberation, I settled on driving my pickup truck down to Wal-Mart to buy a 12-pack of Milwaukee's Best Premium Beer for $5.99. I tend to purchase malt liquor when I opt for drinking macrobrews, largely because the taste, body, mouthfeel, and alcohol content of the big rice-based pale lagers are always disappointing. However, this beer lived up to its "premium" label. True, Milwaukee's Best is mostly water at a mere 4.3% ABV. But the thin mouthfeel and hydrating power of the brew make it ideal for gulping after a long day of work. Unlike other macros like Miller Lite and Icehouse that leave unpleasant metallic tastes in your mouth, Milwaukee's Best goes down smoothly and crisply with a subtle grain taste. Welcome to Woodland, folks! Unleash the beast!

Sierra Nevada - Tumbler Autumn Brown Ale

It is only 65 degrees in Chicago right now. Last night I walked home from a bar wearing a tank top and it was a windy 58º. I had enough Four Loko in my blood to keep me warm, but it still sort of sucked. What doesn't suck is the new crop of fall beers hitting stores. At least that's not what the Tumbler Autumn Brown Ale from Sierra Nevada leads me to believe.

The copy on the bottle heavily plays up the malt flavor in this beer, and it really is the star of this brew. The malt is strong and fresh but not overpowering. It features a back-of-mouth taste, with very mild bitterness and a caramel/smoky aftertaste. The sensation of drinking it is somewhat similar to eating a piece of crispy brown toast you made from a piece of expensive, freshly-baked multigrain bread (you know, the kind with sesame and poppy seeds on the outside of the loaf). Other images it evoked in my mind: flannel, cold wet dirt, and Iowa City on a hazy early Saturday morning. OK, enough of the flowery shit. Once you've come to terms with the fact that the summer of '10 is ending, I recommend you celebrate it -- with a sixer of the Tumbler Autumn Brown Ale ($9.99, 5.5% ABV).

Theobroma (Food of the Gods) 9%ABV

Theobroma is one of Dogfish Head's Ancient Ales. Its limited availability (August only) has kept me waiting for a whole year... until last weekend!

On its menu, Dogfish Head describes an ancient Aztec recipe from 1200 BC with cocoa powder, cocoa nibs, honey, chilies, and annatto (tree seeds with a peppery-nutmeg taste). Reading this, I pictured a hoppy brownish ale with lots of bold flavors hitting at once. To my surprise, it was the opposite.

Theobroma is light in color and subtle in taste. Its density is light and translucent; its taste is more alcoholic-y than hoppy; and its finish is nice and bubbly. I could definitely taste the honey, the nutmeg, and the pepper (in that order), but could not place the chillies or the cocoa (perhaps they balance each other out?).

The beer's subtle balance of flavors would pair well with light fare (not meats) and its bubbly finish will refresh a spicy and/or salty palate. I would pair this beer with fish, spicy vegetarian entrees or soups (curried veggies, Thai foods), or salty appetizers or sides (chips, french fries, or nachos).

Rogue John John Ale

I don't drink a lot of hard liquor. Not only do I not really enjoy the taste of most liquor I've tried, I also can't gauge my level of intoxication very well when I down rum or whiskey. This has led to several rather embarrassing episodes in my recent past that have convinced me to avoid booze under most circumstances.

However, I am a sucker for beers that are aged in old liquor barrels. That's why I eagerly accepted a friend's advice to try a pint of Rogue's John John Ale. Here's the commercial description of the brew:

"In a collaboration of crafts, Rogue Brewmaster John Maier and Rogue Spirits Master Distiller John Couchot have joined forces to create a distinct, innovative series of brews called John John Ales. The series will take Rogue Ales legends and age them in Rogue Spirits barrels. A 3,100 gallon batch of John John Ale produces 1357 cases of beer. The first of the John John series is John John Dead Guy Ale, Rogue’s award winning Dead Guy Ale matured in Rogue’s award winning Dead Guy Whiskey barrels.
Deep honey in color with a malt aroma, a caramel, vanilla and oak finish."

The first time I tried the John John Dead Guy Ale was on tap at the Grad in Davis, CA. The brew was kind of watery, but had a deliciously caramel-sweet bourbon pop. The bottled bomber version is similar, but the bourbon edge is slightly more subtle. Thankfully for me, the Rogue Ale is less potent than the spirit that lends it its dominant taste. At 6.5% alcohol and $6.10 for a 22 ounce bottle, Rogue's John John Dead Guy is a unique brew that is worth a try and won't make you puke on your friend's shoes while waiting for the subway train home in which you inappropriately make advances on the girl you are interested in like actual whiskey would.

AleSmith YuleSmith Holiday Ale (Imperial IPA)

While I tend to agree with most of Davis' reviews, his comment regarding his disdain for seasonal brews sat in my stomach as heavily as a 16 ounce can of Rockman. I'm a total sucker for seasonal ales. I don't care for the "winter warmers" with cardamom and secret spice and many of the light, citrusy summer ales are more like Gatorade than a brew. But I do like the idea of pairing certain styles of beer to specific seasons, like the super malty chocolate stouts that come out in the middle of winter and the ginger-infused pale ales that refresh the palate in the brutally hot days of August. So, I was delighted when my girlfriend brought home a 22 ounce bottle of AleSmith's summer seasonal YuleSmith Holiday Ale, an Imperial IPA brewed each year to celebrate America's Independence Day.

Though the bottle emphasizes its enormous hoppiness, YuleSmith is sweeter and fruitier than most west coast IPAs. The thick, white head smells and tastes like apricot-peach jam and is followed by a strong, but not overbearing dose of hops. The sweet fruitiness is well-countered by the traditional hop bitterness. The 8.5% ABV is well hidden behind this delicate blend of flavors. YuleSmith is delicious, but not the super-hopped double IPA that I was expecting. I'd certainly drop $7 to sip a bomber of this while watching fireworks in the park next year.

Can't wait for the rainy days of winter when AleSmith's winter Speedway Stout will be released....

Scandinavian Beers

Hello, fellow bloggers. I apologize for the delay, but I have been a bit pre-occupied with finding a new job, dealing with student loan issues, entertaining guests, and yes, building a mathematics curriculum from scratch. None the less, I have done a wee bit of sight seeing during my furlough months, and I can regale you with at the very least, some suggestions.

You may have heard Scandinavia is expensive. $6.50 Silver Bullets at Coors Field are expensive. Scandinavia is outrageous. I'm talking about 200 dollar train rides, 13 dollar cups (NOT bowls) of soup, five Euro coat checks, and of course, 15 dollar beers. No, not growlers full of your favorite micro brew, or boots full of some Bavarian nectar, but a regular, old, run of the mill pint.

They don't taste good when being paired with succulent, Swedish Meatballs made out of moose. You know sometimes when you eat pork meatballs you occasionally have those pieces of fat or cartilage that wind up squirming their way into your teeth? Well the moose was tender and moist like pork, but there was no gristle. It had a subtle flavor which went along great with the mushroom cream sauce and was augmented nicely by the tangy lingonberries. I was so excited for this meal, I ordered a Norrlands Guld, a traditional Scandinavian lager. But I could only gulp down half of the bottle in-between bites. I have never once splurged on a meal and only ordered tap water, but that would have been a good time to start. They don't taste good when Team USA is winning (take that Algeria, you gormless excuse for football team. You didn't deserve to beat Egypt, you didn't deserve to be on the pitch and play for a pathetic nil-nil tie!); And they certainly taste like shit when Team USA loses.

If one were to start in Norway, and work his or her increasingly impoverished ass Eastward, he or she would come to this bitter sweet conclusion: The beers become cheaper, but they also more gravely offend the palate. I could have picked any of the beers, (Carlsburg, Frydenlund, Falcon, Lapin Kulta to name a few) but Finland's Karhu has volunteered to be so atrocious, that is is going to have the Dunce Cap placed on its head. The sinister bear (pictured) on the can isn't false advertising. This beer's bite is as bad as its bark. As with all the other Scandinavian beers, Karhu tastes like Sunday morning. Don't play stupid with me here people, and don't play innocent either. I know you have all helped clean up a party, still stumbling with a B.A.C which is more than twice the legal limit. Wanting to atone for the previous night's streaking, plane jumps, and skeet stains left on the now overturned couch cushion, you volunteer to help pick up the empties. But they're not empty are they? You bet that Gamma Phi pledge's sweet ass they're not. About half way through pouring out that second wounded soldier it hits you.

"I'm slap happy, still drunk, and desperate. I'm going to pay for this with a wicked hangover later. I need to keep drinking to avoid said hangover. I'm too poor to purchase even a tall boy of Milwaukee's Best."

So you stop pouring out the bottle, and mull things over. It's not cold, but the early morning dew give the beer a cool temperature. It looks like beer. Hell, it even foamed in the sink while you were pouring it out. So you take a swig, and horrified by what has happened to something so scientifically pure, you never repeat such an act again. Now take that swig for twelve to sixteen fluid ounces worth, and you have just consumed the barley pop of the Vikings.

It tastes like it was brewed during those frigid arctic nights, transported in a sauna (a Finnish invention) then stored in cool kegs, poured through room temperature pipes, and served in a hot glass fresh out of the dish washer. The minimal amount of bubbles which rise during the initial pour, decrease at an exponential rate so that after five minutes, you don't know whether a beer has been sitting there for a round, an hour, or a day. What makes Karhu the number one offender is that it tastes like the barkeep threw in a shot of Everclear when you weren't looking just because you're an American and must be a fan of Tiger Woods.

The moral of the story is that when you travel to the lands of the first crackers to set foot on North American soil, bring extra loot, eat the moose, check out the scenery, and drink the Budweiser. At four Euros, it's on special and tastes like a bottom fermenting lager SHOULD taste.

FOUR LOKO

**NOTICE: YOU SHOULD NOT READ THE BELOW REVIEW WITHOUT CLICKING 'PLAY' ON THE ABOVE YOUTUBE**

CBS NEWS ASKS THE QUESTION: 'IS FOUR LOKO LIQUID COCAINE'?

[PICTURED HERE: WATERMELON EDITION]

No, it is not liquid cocaine. Rather, it is like a turbo-charged version of MillerCoors' Sparks, which was neutered 2 years ago by a consortium of overzealous attorneys-general. Thankfully, this formula is an improvement on Sparks in every way: it has double the alcohol (12% ABV) and a substantial amount of caffeine. Reportedly the European version is liquor-based (rather than malt-based) and has absinthe in the mix. Basically, this drink is CrAzY & makes you think you have gone LoCo. Rather than even try to describe it in words, I instead present you with the following pictorial essay about what drinking a can of this is like:

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Atwater Block Brewery - Vanilla Java Porter

I bought a sixer of this beer at the corner store I usually patronize when I want a bottle of St. Ides Special Brew or a tallboy of Four Loko. Unfortunately, drinking my first Vanilla Java Porter from Atwater Block Brewery made me wish I was drinking a fruit flavored malt liquor instead. I had a distinct idea in my head of what this beer might taste like when I purchased it. It would have a thick, rich texture. The coffee flavor would add a neat acidity to the rich porter flavor but not overpower it. The vanilla bean would barely be perceptible - probably just a drop's worth of flavoring per bottle.

In reality, this beer tastes like high gravity lager brewed out of stale Tia Maria. It is disgustingly sweet with a syrupy aftertaste. Despite its sweetness its texture is thin and weak, perhaps as a result of the overpowering coffee flavor. If a good java porter is a latte (one part coffee, 5 parts mixer) then this is a cafe au lait - the coffee is mixed in equal proportion with the other ingredients. This might be somewhat palatable if the coffee flavor was high quality. It's not - it tastes like Sanka concentrate.

Atwater Block Brewery is located in Detroit, MI. After drinking their Vanilla Java Porter I wonder if this is the block they're referring to.

Stone 14th Anniversary Emperial IPA

Despite my profound disappointment with their Levitation Amber Ale, I decided to celebrate the end of my family's grueling five day visit with a Stone Brewing Company ale. My initial intention was to grab and review the Self-Righteous Ale, a black IPA originally brewed as the brewery's 11th anniversary ale, but was tempted by the arrival of the brand new 14th Anniversary Emperial IPA. Here's the succinct review: god damn fuck yes.

The bottle text is unusually descriptive for a Stone brew: "From the imported white malt to the 'Burtonised' water to the rare yeast strain to the most pungent hops Kent has to offer, we used all British ingredients to brew our Emperial IPA." It continues, "In this case, our tastes called for highly intemperate quantities of Target, East Kent Goldings, and Boadicea hops, bestowing upon this dry-bodied ale a powerfully spicy, earthy aroma. On the palate, peppery hops assert themselves early and often, with malt sweetness making a brief appearance before being beaten back by a long complex, and decisively bitter finish."

I opened the bottle with mild skepticism, took a sip, and immediately exclaimed, "oh shit!" The beer unabashedly tramples you with that crisp, peppery hop wallop. The malty sweetness is very subtle, but just perceptible enough to help balance the deliciously bitter/citrus finish. I hate dropping $7 on a 22 ounce bomber, but Stone doesn't disappoint here. And at a robust 8.9% ABV, the Emperial IPA's alcohol to cost ratio is within reason. This brew joins the ranks of Russian River's Pliny the Elder, Stone's Ruination IPA, and Victory's Hop Devil as one of the best IPAs I've ever had the pleasure of inhaling.

Olde English HG800 High Gravity Malt Liquor

What can help you forget the pains of four long days spent with your dysfunctional family? Look no further than a tall boy of Olde English HG800. At a potent 8.0% ABV and just $2.19 with tax, you can forget about the trauma of sharing genes with those people. HG800 is surprisingly soft on the palate for high gravity malt liquor. The high pre-fermentation sugar content is fairly well-masked. Sure, the characteristic sweet rotten-apple taste of high gravity is present here, but it actually helps to conceal the bitter, somewhat metallic Olde English signature that has always made me reach for a 40 of Country Club instead. Hats off, bottoms up, and let's dream of drinking microbrews without relatives around.

New Belgium - Skinny Dip

Seasonal brews are a pretty hit or miss affair for me. I tend to love summer seasonals but I can't think of a single winter brew that's ever done it for me (no, I don't need hints of cranberry or cardamom in my beer). New Belgium's Skinny Dip fits well into this trend, because I think it's fucking awesome. It's light without being too watery, citrusy, or hoppy. It has a pleasantly fresh aftertaste that makes one want to drink more. Apparently its 'low calorie' too, at least by independent brewery standards.

As you can see from the picture, I paired this beer with a medium (accidentally overcooked it) porterhouse steak and sauteed spinach. The brewmaster probably had a lighter food pairing in mind, but I actually thought this one worked out well--the crisp finish on the beer did a terrific job of cleansing my mouth of the salty/fatty taste from the steak with each bite. Skinny Dip is also affiliated with an environmental campaign to clean the Colorado River. I saw this very literal advertisement promoting the beer & the campaign in last month's Utne Reader. Nice butts!

Boulder Beer, taste the Mojo

Burning some time in the Denver airport, I was fortunate to find the Boulder Beer Company, Colorado's first microbrew. I tried the Mojo, their version of an IPA, and was extremely pleased. The sample of their porter I tried was also quite good, with just a hint of coffee. You could do much, much worse than this place. Strongly recommend if you're ever in Denver.

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ICEHOUSE

After a long weekend of drinking $7 cans of marginally cold Bud Light at Lollapalooza I felt like I needed to watch my wallet. The solution? ICEHOUSE. ICEHOUSE is "Ice Brewed Below Freezing™ resulting in the formation of actual ice crystals, delivering the bold, never watered down taste that you can enjoy each time you drink an ice cold ICEHOUSE". The website also added "p.s., ICE ICE ICE ICE ICE" after that sentence.

Honestly though, I subscribe to the "Roger Ebert school" of beer criticism - I judge each beer based on what it's trying to be, not on some abstract Platonic ideal of what the Good beer is. ICEHOUSE tries to be a solid beer for solid dudes - essentially an alcohol delivery system that won't set you back financially, will deliver an above average ABV, won't bother you with unfamiliar taste, and won't make you look like a pussy. It's fueled many a NASCAR race and basement high school banger - ICEHOUSE serves its purpose. Does it accomplish this purpose with the flair of a malt liquor like Private Stock? No. But it does exude a certain humble, Midwestern reliability, befitting of the Plank Road Brewery in Milwaukee where it is made. It tastes ok... like Miller with extra alcohol, which is exactly what it is. It doesn't have a skunky flavor and avoids the aluminum-like aftertaste of many of its direct competitors. At $5.99 a 12 pack, one could do worse. Once I've polished off this 12 pack I'll feel able to afford to review a craft brew or two. For now, I'll just sip my ICEHOUSE and reminisce about the glory that was watching Soundgarden perform "Black Hole Sun" live.

Good Juju...more like Bad Juju

Left Hand Brewing Company's Good Juju.

After a long day of packing and moving, there was nothing I was looking more forward to than a cold beer. I picked the beer solely based on its name, as I often do, and unsurprisingly, like I often am when I make foolish choices, I was disappointed. You figure with a name like Good Juju you can't go wrong, but let me be the first to tell you that you can.

My first taste reminded me of drinking the cup with the quarter in it during a game of chandeliers. There was a metallic flavor to the beer, which I've later learned was supposed to be ginger. The taste was not consistent as I drank the entire beer. I kept tasting hints of other spices, but the metal taste was so overwhelming that it was really impossible to discern the different flavors. Rather than leaving you with a feeling of good juju, the beer left you with a metallic taste in your mouth and an overall feeling of bad juju at having wasted 6 dollars on a pint of metal. On the whole the beer was incredibly disappointing, and as my better half indicated, we won't be drinking that again.

Boulevard Suite: Amber, Bully! Porter, & Single-wide IPA

I used to really dig Boulevard Brewing Co., so it pains me to say that I'm starting to lose my interest. Mrs. Soop is a big fan of Boulevard Wheat, and for a while, it was the only beer we kept in the Soop kitchen. As a result, every beer I drank began to taste like Boulevard Wheat, and I had to get off the bandwagon. Anyway, on to the reviews.

Amber: Heavier texture than I was expecting. I am a big fan of ambers in general (with Michelob Amber Bock as my particular friend). Also not as hoppy as I was expecting. To me, it tasted like a warmer Boulevard Wheat. I guess I'll never escape the taint on my palate.

Bully! Porter: Here, not quite as heavy as I was expecting. A little hoppier than the amber, but not enough for my tastes. I would really give this one two thumbs down, if not for the highly sophisticated bulldog portrait on the label, which I couldn't get a picture of because my phone is a joke.

Single-wide IPA: Not as heavy as the porter, but really hoppy. This beer was also a former favorite of mine, but it was a challenge to finish this one after the first two.

Summary: In short, I've lost a lot of my faith in Boulevard. There ultimately was not much to distinguish any of these three beers from one another, except the amount of hops in each brew, the color, and the texture. The beers weren't very cold when I drank them, which is supposed to help the true flavor stand out a bit, but in reality kept me from enjoying them. I didn't catch the ABV on any of these, and I didn't get any photos I could use this time 'round. I also didn't catch a price because I was drinking for free at my in-laws' casa.

P. Soop

Loose Cannon

Loose Cannon is brewed by Heavy Seas Brewing, which is extremely fond of pirate jokes. Naturally, Loose Cannon is described as a, "hop shot across the bow!" It, "won't send you to Davy Jones' locker, but (added yeast in the bottle) will protect your brew from the rigors of life at sea." Hardy har har. At 7% ABV, Loose Cannon is a true American IPA. It has, "Hops, hops, AND MORE hops--over 3 lbs. per barrel, at 3 different times in the process (emphasis original)."

Seriously, though, Heavy Seas products are all over the East Coast and marketed pretty extensively through Whole Foods stores. Loose Cannon is particularly good if you're in the mood for an IPA--it has caramel undertones, is slightly aromatic, and has a nice, not overpowering, hoppy balance. Shiver me timbers, I'll leave the pirate jokes to others.

Red Oval, a Trader Joe's Special

On a recent trip to a Trader Joe's, a small, cheap, mostly organic grocery store chain, I spotted baby-dolphin-killing six-packs of Red Oval for $2.99. I had tried and liked Trader's Joe's other cheap beer line, the aptly named Simpler Times, and I'm a sucker for six-packs, so I gave this plain can a try. Like much of Trader's Joe's products, this beer's name is made up, and you can only buy it at the Trader's Joe's location nearest you. It's actually brewed in Wisconsin by the Minhas Brewery.

It met all expectations for a $.50 beer, slightly beer-y flavored, with a nice, almost sweet finish. I could drink lots of these really easily, especially on a hot summer day. Don't bother pouring it into a glass; who cares about releasing the aromas or seeing the coloration on a beer this cheap. ABV: unknown.

Shiner's Fröst: A Dortmunder Style Golden Ale

Here's what the bottle has to tell us: "First brewed in Dortmund, Germany for the hardworking coal miners of the town, this deliciously distinctive style bring a hint of malty sweetness that quickly fades to show a crisp, hoppy character." Though I had to overcome some initial hesitation in purchasing an obscure German style beer from a brewery in southeastern Texas, I was persuaded to try Shiner's Fröst thanks to the discount price of $5.99 per six pack at my local Aggie Liquor. I can't say that it was equivalent to a day's work of inhaling suspended particulate matter in a man-made cave, but I did try to pay my respects to the proletarian heritage of the brew by drinking one after a day that involved pushing around 40 tons of cow and horse manure with a front loader, cutting alfalfa, and repairing a worn out belt on a flail mower. Perhaps the vocational difference explains the disconnect between the flavor experienced by my Deutsh counterparts and the one I endured today. Could the coal dust sufficiently dull the palate to make an overpowering, knock-you-on-your-ass-and-make-you-wish-you-would-have-had-a-glass-of-water-instead-of-a-beer maltiness seem like just a "hint" of sweetness? And where is the crisp, hoppy character? Was it accidentally replaced with some skunky spice blend leftover from the Weimar Republic, thus explaining the bargain blow out price? Despite its flaws, the Shiner Fröst is, at very least, smooth and refreshing. At a reasonable 5.5% ABV, the beer provides just enough to replace the annoying tingling sensation in the tips of your fingers resulting from hours spent clenching a fiercely vibrating tractor steering wheel with the more comforting and familiar tingle of a slight alcoholic buzz. And what's more? My cat likes the smell of the empty bottles making for perfect photo opportunities.

Instantaneous Incredulity

No doubt, you have all read A Mer's rousing description of his own beer-drinking bona fides. Thanks primarily to my general lack of wit and individuality, I deemed it necessary to follow his lead before I begin to provide my comments on the wondrous world of beer:

-My first beer also required me to "tap the Rockies" (that's the mountain range, you see, and not the MLB team). It was in the basement of someone known to history only as the BK Broiler, and I was hammered almost immediately thereafter.
-After that, I gave up beer entirely and switched to Franzia boxed wine, because not only am I cheap, I am also Italian. Once I realized that one could be a beer snob without also being a wine snob, I left the box behind and came back to the bottle--although I must say, a nice goblet of Chianti Classico sets me up forever.
-When I come home after a hard day of lawyering my brains out, I like to kick back with a cheap, domestic lager beer, tainted by two-and-a-half teaspoons of reconcentrated lime juice. Yummy. So I won't review that one for you.
-My (rap) name is P. Soop. I am unemployed, and I live with my parents.

Looking forward to participating in this fantastic forum.

In bocca al lupo,
P. Soop

Stone Brewing Co's Levitation Ale

Like all of Stone's brews, the text on the box and bottle are worthless. After a paragraph of rambling prose, the bottle states, "Stone Levitation Ale certainly defies the gravitational forces at work in much of the beer industry today- less character, less flavor, less creativity- and as for any supernatural forces at work in this beer, well we can only guess. (Though brewers yeast pretty much qualifies in our book.)" I'll agree with the bottle that this brew delivers more to the palate than a can of Schlitz, but it certainly doesn't dish up $14 per six pack worth of deliciousness. Unlike most of the other Stone light ales that are dominated by an intoxicating fruity undertone (try the Self-Righteous Ale, for example), the overwhelming Levitating flavor is, as mentioned on the bottle, brewers yeast. The beer is smooth and crisp, but unpleasantly bitter with no hint of floral hops or sweet malt to even out the finish. At just 4.4% alcohol by volume, Levitation Ale can't even compete with the aforementioned Schlitz, which weighs in at 4.6%. Overall, this one's a pretty disappointing contribution from one of my favorite west coast breweries that brings us such delights as their Russian Imperial Stout, the Self-Righteous Ale, and the famous Ruination IPA.

Leinenkugel's Honey Weiss

Leinenkugel is a uniquely positioned beer company. If you live in Wisconsin its brews are sold in taverns for $2 a pint, and you might view it as existing in the same league as Bud Light, High Life, etc. Across the rest of the country it is sold alongside the 'premium' beers for roughly a buck a bottle. In this case Wisconsin has it right. They recently started selling the beer in a can, which is the proper vessel for a beer of this quality. Sipped from an ice cold can the Honey Weiss is solid: smooth and light, with a dull wheat taste. Sipped from a glass it has a slightly skunky aroma and citrusy aftertaste. I don't taste any honey here at all. Overall I'd rate this beer as a loser; if all you want is a watery, drinkable beer for a hot summer day you're better off spending half the price on an American macrobrew like PBR.

1554. New Belgium Brewery.

Twelve fluid ounces of wind-powered deliciousness. A complex, smooth, smoky-chocolatey flavor. Aftertaste is not abundant. The beer is black, but the head and body do not seem to have the density of a stout - in fact, New Belgium calls it a "black ale." Rest assured that the beer's carbon footprint is minimal, having been brewed in a wind-powered brewery in Fort Collins, CO. Recommended - one of my personal top ten.

Instant Credibility

Good afternoon, it's nice to be here. It has been too long since I blogged, but hopefully the wort flowing from my fingertips to the keyboard haven't gone skunky due to extended hibernation. The purpose of this first post is, as the title implies, to give us some credibility. It's noted that this is an amateur's quest to chronicle all of the beers he has sampled. AMATEUR? Preposterous! Outrageous! That is way too humble and self depreciating. We are beer-drinking blue-bloods, and I have the lineage to prove it:

- My first beer was a Busch Light.
- The first time I was ever inebriated off of a malted beverage, Two Dogs was responsible.
- At one point during my Junior year, the amount of Smirnoff Ices I had drank could "Ten-Run-Rule" the number of beers I had drank.
- At some point in my life, each of the following beers has been my favorite... Tequiza, Ice House, Blue Moon.

Although these are "I statements," several of this blog's co-writing aristocracy were present when these historic achievements occurred. As you can see, our beer drinking history is as storied as Mr. Millcoorweiser himself, and those of you who read this blog will be drunk off of more beer information than can fill a two story funnel.

Santé