Saturday, December 29, 2012

Kalamazoo Stout = Easy Decision

The annals of history are full of decisions made by great men and women, and most can be placed into one or more of the following categories: Good, Bad, Shitty Shitty, Tough, and Easy.

  • Good

All fat. All white. All the time. Also, who the shit didn't sub out Pettis???
My mom bought me a Nintendo with Power Pad for Christmas when I was about 8 years old.  For those of you who don't know about the Power Pad, it is a plastic mat laid on the floor that requires the player to run and jump in order to control the character(s) on the screen.  So it's basically video games and fat camp all rolled into one.  It came with this evil game that required you to run around the woods and jump over logs, and it was fun for the first 15 seconds before I got tired and almost shook the house down to its foundation.  I told my mom that the game didn't work, and I was allowed to trade it in on a new game.  I chose RBI Baseball which to this day remains the benchmark for all baseball video games.  You can take your realistic graphics, season modes, and non-white players somewhere else because RBI Baseball ain't having none of that crap.

  • Bad

So simple yet so evil
I've been blessed with a bladder that's roughly the size of a gnat's turd after a big steak dinner.  80% of my trips to the bathroom have the potential to turn into a Code Yellow disaster before reaching the urinal.  Guess what?  Donning a pair of button fly jeans ain't doing me any favors.  Choke on my wet pants, Levi Strauss.

  • Shitty Shitty

I decided it was a good idea to steal baseball cards at a local gas station when I was 13.  I wasn't aware at the time, but apparently clerks are trained to spot suspicious teens shoving boxes of Stadium Club packs down their pants.  Bad idea but a great life lesson.  But holy shit those cards were glossy as all get-out.  

Did I mention the cards were glossy?

  • Tough

Fuck it.  I'm eating oatmeal for breakfast.

I'd rather solve a Rubik's Cube at gunpoint.

  • Easy

Tim Burton's take on King of the Hill
Ah yes.  This is a beer blog, so maybe I should at least mention beer once in this post.  Bell's is an awesome brewery in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and they have a damn fine selection of beers to choose from.  Their Oberon brew is a great starting point for virgins of the Bell's variety.  However, I'm here to talk about their Kalamazoo Stout.  Put into simple terms, this is a fantastic American stout that has become my "easy decision" when browsing the beer aisle at the local grocer.  The smell and taste makes me think of black licorice (Note: Black licorice is superior to red licorice in every possible way) and hints of coffee.  It's not a "coffee beer", but it has the perfect balance of a rich tasting dry stout and an easy drinking ale.  Most stouts, save for Guinness, leave me full and bloated after a few pints.  However, this is a stout that I could drink all day.  It's not a beer that will blow away your taste buds and rewire your olfactory senses, but it is a beer that will leave you wanting more.

9/10  (or a 1 on the binary scale)

Friday, January 21, 2011

Old Speckled Hen

This is an english ale, and typically I wont even give an english ale a chance. I was drinking a Guiness today at the local pub and I saw someone order an Old Speckled Hen. It cascaded when poured just like a Guiness, yet had an amber color that looked very invited and refreshing. I ordered one and was immediately pleased. This beer is incredibly smooth. It has a nice malty taste with notes of toffee and caramel. I have found other english ales unapproachable but this one was very easy to drink. It has 4.5% alcohol, perfect for a couple pints at lunch before returning to work where I am now, clearly working extremely hard. If you are like me you are the type to not even consider an english ale, give this one a shot. You most likely will not regret it.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Acme California Pale Ale Awesomeness

Do you like beer? Do you like crisp, refreshing, delicious beer? Do you like redheads clinging to a rope with one hand and holding a pale ale that can go to toe to toe with any and all comers with the other?

Then Acme's California Pale Ale is for you, my friends.

It doesn't get much better than this beer. We're talking beer you take to a desert island with you, beer you thank the beer gods for after every sip, beer you pay whatever price they're asking because you'd be a mouth-breathing, drooling, shit-stained moron if you let an opportunity to drink this magic beverage pass you by.

I turned 30 this past Wednesday and received a few gifts from family and friends. All were greatly appreciated and all brought a smile to my face. None bigger than the six pack of Acme California Pale Ale my brother handed over. I love this beer.

Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema: say it four times fast

I'm reading each and every comment left at Anderson Valley Brewery's page for their Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema, and my mind is splattered on the wall behind me. It seems everyone who drinks this beer is head over heels in love with it. Everyone that is, except me.

I'll be honest with you, I love Anderson Valley's beer. I do. I'm an Anderson Valley Brewery fan. I celebrate their entire catalog. For my money, I don't know if it gets any better than their Boont Amber Ale.

When it comes to summer beers, I don't know if it gets any worse than their Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema.

I love summer beers (Sierra Nevada, Alaskan, Sam Adams in particular, in that order) and combined with my respect and admiration for Anderson Valley's other work, I was fucking EXCITED to drink this beer and drink a lot of it. I didn't even know they made a summer beer. This was going to be awesome.


Perhaps I had a bad batch. It could have sat on the shelf too long at a less than optimum temperature. Maybe, and this is a big maybe, a Total Wine employee opened the bottles, filtered it through his socks after masturbating into them and capped the bottles back up. I don't know what happened with the beer, but I know I was not a fan of this particular beverage, not a fan at all.

Instead of a smooth, slightly sweet, easy-drinking beer, I found SSCC (I'm sick of typing that shit out) to have far too much going on. It was fruity, bitter, and even spicy. Beer and spice don't do it for me. Never have, never will (I hope those clowns at Sierra Nevada are reading this and taking notes for this year's batch of that abomination Celebration Ale.)

There's a chance I'll try it out again next year, give it another go, allow SSCC to redeem itself. A slight chance. I don't deal well with disappointment.

Shiner Smokehaus tastes like, well, smoke

Every once in a while I'll have what I call "six pack Friday." I have a certain amount of freedom at my place of employment, where I can nearly do whatever I want. Drinking a few beers at my desk on a Friday is sometimes the thing I want to do.

Today was one of those Fridays, and the beer selection was Shiner's Smokehaus. Now, I love Shiner beer. Everything I've sampled from their brewery has been delicious and I've always wanted more.

Not so with their Smokehaus.

I read the label, and knew full well what I was getting into. It says "mesquite smoked beer" front and center. I have no one to blame but myself, as there should have been some thought in my head of "this beer probably tastes like a combination of Shiner Bock and liquid smoke."

Which it does. It tastes like Shiner Bock when it gets past the lips, and tastes like liquid smoke on the way down and at the finish. I love smoke, I love bbq, I love drinking and bbq'ing.

I do not love Shiner's Smokehaus and it's liquid smoke tinge. It's not for me, and I have a hard time believing it's for anyone out there.

It pains me to say, but I've found a Shiner product I will never purchase again. It's bad enough disliking a new beer, it damn near hurts when it comes from a favorite brewery.

To quote the great Kelly Bundy, "case of rum, case of rum."

Monday, July 20, 2009

Shiner Bock is the Awesome

1 - purchase Shiner Bock
2 - drink Shiner Bock
3 -

I've enjoyed every Shiner beverage I've sampled in my beer drinking career, but none more than their Bock. Delicious, balanced, and reasonably priced, it's my kind of beer.

I don't have any crazy stories to tell involving this great beer, or any jokes to beat into the ground at its expense. All I'll say is if I'm looking to come home from work, do some grilling, listen to Avail, and have a beer or two with dinner, Shiner Bock is at the top of my list.

I'd totally go gay for the Shiner ram.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

High Life still reigns supreme

Holiday weekends kick fucking ass. I know it, you know it, hell, even Michael Jackson knows it, and he's as dead as the pigeon my neighbor's cat gutted and left in my yard Saturday.

There's nothing quite like an extra day away from work, an extra day to do whatever the hell you want, be it sitting on your ass and drinking beer, bowling and drinking beer, grilling and drinking beer, or even mowing your demon of a lawn and drinking beer (hint: I did all of these this wonderful holiday weekend.)

What doesn't kick fucking ass is going back to work. The joy of a three day weekend can only be taken down by the misery of a Monday, and take down that joy is exactly what Monday did to me yesterday.

The details are boring and don't really matter, but my Monday sucked giant donkey balls and left me hating life. Thankfully, man invented beer. More to the point, the fellas at Miller invented High Life.

It's delicious.

It really is. Smooth, tasty, and cheap. It's the perfect beer to drink after getting repeatedly kicked in the balls by Monday. I love it, I love it, I love it.

Now, I've been on health kick recently, and admittedly, it's gotten a bit ridiculous. So ridiculous in fact, I don't drink beer during the week.


However, my new, healthy outlook on life was no match for the High Life last night. It didn't stand a chance. Being healthy was playing checkers while the girl in the moon was playing chess.

A 12 pack of High Life. It'll cure what's ailing you, even a horrible case of the Mondays.