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:

1.

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3.

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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