Stop putting shit in my goddamn beer.

Stop it. Stop putting pumpkin, cherries, berries, seeds, vegetables, lemons, cinnamon, nutmeg, umbrellas, etc in beer. Many have come before you and most if not all have failed. The trails of creative fermentation are well trod and thousands of years old. You are not going to be the one who finally finds the one ingredient when added to beer makes it better without making it much worse so stop kidding yourself. The last successful modification was the addition of hop flowers so let's leave it at that. The Germans know this, that's why they made the Reinheitsgebot.

I see the need to innovate as largely an American compulsion, novelty as commodity. We haven't yet learned that some things are perfect the way they are and that crafting within well established guidelines to achieve categorical excellence is an art form and should be celebrated. We're not comfortable with operating within standards so we create our own, thereby bypassing the mechanisms of proper evaluation. The end result: beer coolers filled with expensive niche beers that I feel obligated to try despite my better judgment. Some brewers can lay claim to 20+ oddball varieties of libation, but of those, how many are drinkable? Of those drinkable ones, how many are actually excellent? My advice to the brewer: drop the weirdo ingredients and focus on the art and craft of creating highly desirable, repeatable beverages, even if that means having a small selection of beers.

Dogfish Head Black & Blue*
This beer sucks unless you savor a mouthful of unripened berry puree. Though I can barely taste it, I get the impression that the base ale used as delivery vector for mouth puckering novelty is actually quite good, but of course they ruined it by dumping crap into it. I won't list the ABV or IBU's because it doesn't matter, you won't drink enough of it to worry or care. Just pass on this one, folks.


*I took a picture of the bottle, but I just don't care enough to upload it.

Peak Pomegranate Wheat Ale 6.0% ABV

Sometimes in life, we make bad decisions that we can't take back. Like eating at Taco Bell, smuggling drugs through a Turkish airport, or spending the night in a strange girl's bed at an off-campus party on Young Drive. Or drinking Peak Pomegranate Wheat Ale.

Recently I invested a minimal amount of time in researching the subject of beer tasting. So for the past few weeks, I have been equipped with a marginally better sense of what makes beer good and bad.

This is a horrible beer.

What I really wanted was Erdinger. But guess what, the Erdinger keg was dry. Changing it out for Peak Pomegranate, she said. Alright, fine - I'll give that a try.

Holy sh*t. One sniff should have been all the warning I needed not to even take a sip. I actually smelled a beer for the first time a week or so ago. Long Trail Ale. Smelled good. Had this really neat sweet smell to it that I can't quite place.

Oh guess what I can place though. The smell from Peak Pomegranate. It smells like a g*ddamn dumpster. I mean straight up dumpster runoff. You would never smell something like this and decide that it was okay to drink. You would drop it like a poison grenade with the pin missing and f*cking RUN. However, it's a beer - beer of any kind is meant to be consumed, and this is this only piece of logic that allowed my brain to OK the tasting portion of this experience. Idiot.

In the mouth. BLECK. My senses are immediately overwhelmed now. A whole spectrum of bad tastes are dancing around in my mouth. It's a veritable orgy of faintly fruity awfulness. I can't even tell what is going on anymore. Stunned at how disappointing this beer is, I'm drinking it out of anger now. Bitter feelings propel every awful sip down my throat; every sip wishing it was the Tuckerman I didn't re-order. I am a moron, and the self doubt is now propagating slowly through my organs, infecting my soul. This beer is so terrible I would rather put an ice pick through my face just to distract myself from the thought of ever having tried it. If this beer was the only thing left to drink on planet earth I would rather die of dehydration a thousand times. I would rather chew leaking batteries, I would rather piss staples, I would rather slam my tongue in a car door, and I would rather invent an elaborate process to distill and drink my own liquefied farts than have one more sip of Peak Pomegranate Wheat Ale. If someone gave me this beer and told me to bring it to a party, I would execute that person and throw the beer in a bottomless pit, which is the only place I know that it will not harm anyone. It doesn't deserve to exist. Don't buy it. Oh but it's organic. Hey guess what. Piss is organic too. I don't drink that either. Peak Pomegranate is obviously some kind of screwed-up mistake, much like the current recipe for Winter Warmer. Don't buy that, don't buy Peak Pom, and use this holiday season to get back to old fashioned family helpers like Captain and eggnog, Gritty's Christmas Ale, and Captain and eggnog.

Shipyard Smashed Pumpkin (Pugsley's Signature Series) 9.0% ABV

It was time. Enough of this cat and mouse charade.

Pulled from the very back right of my refrigerator. A spot reserved for only the finest and most storied beverages. Your cap surrounded in a shroud of golden foil, off it goes; removed with needless care. The murky libation splits evenly in two pints. One for me, one for my best girl. She would sip, but I would sample and savor. Pumpkinhead is here, I can sense it, but we have company. There's a sweetness that betrays a great and wonderful ABV. And absent Pumpkinhead's watery finish there is a peculiar parting bitterness. It begs another taste. And another. And a third. And I've finished. And I'm already asking if we can go to the store and get more. Inspired and insistent, I can feel the surge of emotion; I'm pleading as a child would plead for a gumball or a quarter for the horsey ride. Can we please. Please. I know where to get it. But in no shape to drive, there will be no horsey ride. Horsey ride denied. Not tonight.

They next day I rushed to the only place I knew to find it, and after months of patient stalking, there they were. Dozens of them. Dozens. A miracle. The miracle I have waited so long for. Feigning class for a moment, I discarded all tact and brought an armload to the counter. At long last, Smashed Pumpkin is mine. The magically potent orange trophies are mine. Truly everything Pumpkinhead could be, if it only tried.

Giddyup.

Dogfish Head Punkin Ale

It seems everywhere you go these days, pumpkin flavored items are all the rage. Every brewery around is milking the sweet teet of our orange autumn friend. Its only a matter of time before we see Turkey, Gravy or Cranberry Sauce flavored beers. Then it will all digress into a messy giblet flavored beer; the edible offal of a fowl, typically including the heart, gizzard, liver, anus in a cheery toasted hops and malty concoction. Yes I'm calling that one now.
Capping off a month long all things pumpkin binge, I've finally found the holy grail of "pumpkin" beers. That beer could only come in the form of Dogfish Head's aptly named "Punkin" ale. If you're a follower of hillbilly triathalons and backwoods smithies then you'll recognize the spelling of this beer is a homage to the greatest event on earth, Punkin Chunkin. That event in itself a walking billboard for ridiculousness, similarly so is this beers goodness.
You can pick up Punkin in a 9 dollar 4 pack just about anywhere that sells good beers. I scored mine up at Bunnies, and shared it with my dad. At 7% after two I had a nice light buzz associated with a higher ABV beer. The taste of this beer is unassuming, a distinct brown with solid flavor. Dogfish didn't even bother trying to make the beer taste pumpkiny, they just brewed with pumkin meat and the end flavor is what you get. Get some now, or be a looser and wait for some Sam Adams Giblet Stout.

Samuel Adams Coastal Wheat (huh?)

Hey you like Sam, you don't like Sam. Personally, I'm a big Boston Lager fan - if it's on tap & super fresh, there's nothing like it I think. But generally I'm not overly enthusiastic about everything they make. Across the lineup it's just ok for me. Cherry Wheat though - f*cking terrible.

Anyway.

Coastal Wheat just hit the streets. It's excellent. It's lighter bodied than typical Sam fare, and the lemon is really more of a hint than an outright flavor. It's not the overwhelming, almost dry grain of paradise taste, as found in Summer Ale. I actually think this could and should replace the traditional summer offering. I guess I wonder why we're seeing it for the first time...in October.

Oh, but the name. Oh I know precisely where it came from. It came from one of the many surveys Sam sends out. I got that survey. As most of their surveys do, it pissed me off to no end. I really tried to finish it, but the damn thing went on forever, offering the same exact choices, using slightly modified iterations of the same exact question again and again and again until my f*cking eyeballs bled and I begged the internet and any listening deity for mercy. 'Coastal Wheat' was one of the choices; as I remember, one of the worst. My guess is that no one actually completed the survey, Sam put the choices in a lotto drum, and this is what came out.

So ignore the name, label, everything on the outside, and enjoy this little bit of summer in October.

Peaches and Herb said it best

Much time (two weeks) has passed since the season's first taste of Pumpkinhead crossed my palette. That lifeless liquid anticlimax, for some reason my favorite fall beer of all time. But such contempt? It didn't make sense, and I searched for the reason.

Weeks of experimentation with Wolaver's and a renewal of interest in Autumn Brew ensued. I savored both, appreciating their distinctive, spicy slaps to the mouth. I enjoyed them, devil may care, as my compatriot from Portland sat idly by, wondering when I would return. When would I? I couldn't say.

Then a chance encounter at Firefly saw my old friend paired with Stoli Vanil. A time honored combination. To me it represents what Pumpkinhead could be, if it only tried. Of course, this is the tale of the tape for Shipyard's Smashed Pumpkin, which I believe is only a fairytale beverage. But staying on point - without Russia's finest, what is Pumpkinhead anyway. You can't put Brian Daubach on steroids and call him a great hitter.

More days of Wolaver's, and a return to form with Halloween Ale. But a collective buildup of flavor that was reaching a pinnacle now. Little did I know.

An icy cold Pumpkinhead draft last night at the Backroom spoke to me. Suddenly, after weeks of flavor anhilliation, the senses were liberated. For the first time, the subtlety of Pumpkinhead shined through like a vehicle mounted spotlight pierces the translucent curtains in a random woman's bedroom window on a cold November night. The stunning simplicity struck me in way it never has. Or maybe it was the effect imparted by pounding two in a row. Nonetheless, in that moment, we reunited. And it felt so good.

Hello old Friend!

Beer date: September 2. After a morally satisfying 10-mile mountain bike ride in the quiet night wilderness of Bear Brook State Park, I take my usual seat at the roadhouse, where I order up the season's first Pumpkinhead. Steeped in anticipation, my mind floods with pleasant memories of my favorite fall staple. It arrives; it's subdued coppery hue looking just as wonderful as I remember. In my haste, not a taste, but a first gulp - and it all comes back to me now as I sit here. Watery and completely unfulfilling, this is Pumpkinhead.

Three Philosophers

Ommegang Brewery
9.8% Alc./vol.
Unknown IBU

I've never been a big fan of belgian or "Belgian style" beers which this brew happens to be. There have been a few I've enjoyed, but for the most part I'm a meat and potatoes kind of beer drinker. I get more excited by the masterful execution or a novel twist of the more pedestrian styles of ale than I do sampling exotic brews.

I'm about 5 sips in so I'll start with my first impressions and see how it progresses from there. I began by pouring my first glass into the wrong type of glass; a Duvel tulip. Three Philosophers should probably be served in a Chimay chalice, but I can't find mine at the moment. I'll toast St. Anthony and see if he knows where it is.

The initial pour released a surprisingly complex arrangement of fruit, champagne, floral notes and a hint of yeast. Very pleasant, but it dissipated quickly. Thick, rich and foamy head tinted slightly beige. The flavor is subtle, malty with a hint of cherry. It finishes sharp and dry reminiscent of biting into a green apple. I'm reminded again of champagne and wouldn't be surprised if they used champagne yeast in the final fermentation. Clean aftertaste though slightly boozy, which I like; kind of a warm fuzzy feeling.

Three Philosophers is a Belgian style ale blended with Kriek, which explains the cherries. I can tell while sipping that if it weren't for the Kriek, this would be a very rich and sweet ale. The Kriek balances that out nicely and counters the sweetness with sour cherries.

All in all this is an enjoyable beer, but not an everyday one for me. The clean taste makes it a versatile beer and would be welcome at cocktail hour, during and after dinner or even with a sorbet and fruit course, if your pants are fancy.

Wolaver's Will Stevens' Pumpkin Ale ?ABV

I know Andy told me Wolaver's is never good. I understand Andy. He had a bad experience with swimmer piss. So he is cautious.

I like shiny things so I bought this. I had two (2) (1+1 other) and put on some Richard Burgess. And Spase Peepole. All the hits. Jennifor Hal-o-way.

I think I'm halfway bombed. I'm such a lightweight.

I have to go

Just when I thought I was off IPA

XXXX India Pale Ale 9.25% 70 IBU
Shipyard Pugsley's Signature Series

I've been drinking Smuttynose IPA almost exclusively for the last six months but the resulting hop induced perma burn (heartburn) has made drinking IPA's less appealing.

Anyone who is a fan of the American IPA would admit that we have abused the little flower, concocting mouth puckering and palatte destroying hop bombs of beers. Such is not the case with XXXX IPA. The hops are there, but mostly in aroma. They are used to balance out the syrupy sweetness inevitable in a beer this big (9.25%), but not to the point of obliterating the sweetness or overwhelming the malty flavor. The richness of this beer doesn't make it a chugger, but it would fare well alongside some 'que, mexican or anything with some heat.

This isn't the best I've had of its type, but it's good and worth a shot. Like other Pugsley Signature beers, I believe it's only available in the 1 1/3 pint bottles which I call "samplers."

Summer Round Up

Ah, fleeting summer. Before you know it Pumpkinhead will be........holy sh*t are you serious? It's the first week of August and it's already in every neighborhood cooler. That should excite me, but the concept of Pumpkinhead 2 has me extremely distracted.

A few brief reviews:



UFO Raspberry Hefeweizen 5.1%ABV: Is good. It could be better but it's good enough.
















Leinenkugel Summer Shandy 4.2%ABV: Ack. Shandy. When I think of shandy I'm reminded of my 'ol Irish friend John who used to run a pub downtown. "ETS FOEKEN BEEREN SPROIT" he'd say. Don't go out of your way to figure out what that means or to try this beverage.











Tuckerman 6288 Stout 5.9%ABV: Named for Mt. Washington, it is basically impossible for this beer to suck. Like Wash it is epic and awesome and takes me way too long to finish.







Kona Wailua Wheat 5.4%ABV: Boring. This is one of the most uninteresting things I've tried since I tried wiping front to back. Yes, people say it's different but it's impossible to really tell and in the end you accomplish basically the same thing. If you understood any of that, don't buy this yawn in a bottle.

Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA 7.2% ABV

Here's how to enjoy Sierra Nevada Torpedo:
1. Buy some.
2. Throw your keys in a pond. You won't need 'em.
3. Drink.

Holy crap am I hung over. Good luck.

Schwelmer Pils

As a rule I don't trust two things, German Beer and names that don't carry at least 25% vowels in them. This beer fails both tests. The old-man picked me up a nice sixer of this stuff at the redemption center on ultra clearance, which means he paid 3 bucks or less. It comes in a cutesy little boutique case and the bottles have the Grolsh beugel type bottle. Brewers like these bottles because of their re-usability; I like them for my collection of piss and bile. Back the the review. This beer was drinkable, but boring, stale and lacking of testicular power. I don't remember the ratings we give on this site mostly because alcohol has long ago clouded my memory and left me for dead at a Holiday Inn on Rt 1-A; but if I were to rate this, in the German spirit I would give it two out of four "Rusty" berets.
Next review - How many "Full Moons" can you drink in an art gallery before you think its "ok" to touch the Renoir?

Arrogant Turbo Bastard Dog

I wanted to try new stuff tonight. But minutes are simply not enough when browsing the Strangebrew beer menu. When she came to take our order, I blurted out "Sam Winter" in haste, not wanting to miss out on the first round. But Sam wasn't my endgame here. So I pounded it.

On to something new. I ordered Anita Brewing's Turbodog. I wish I could remember what it tasted like, because I pounded that one too. The problem here is that we had momentum going.

Sometimes momentum can be hard to stop. Next on my list was the Arrogant Bastard. It spoke to me from the menu. I have some recall of this beverage. It was exceptionally hoppy. But I could discern no further detail at this point as a consequence of my earlier decision to simply tear through my other two pints. So I more or less tore through this one too, since I didn't really feel like having a super hoppy beer tonight, and I didn't feel like savoring it.

The moral here is that this was a terrible combination of pace and mixological execution. By virtue of my ever-expanding body mass, I was by no means impaired. But this morning I sure feel like I must have been. I usually try to follow a 1:1 glass of water to beer ratio before hitting the pillow, and in spite of that, I felt none too good at sunrise. I have a wound up dog trying to scratch it's way out of my skull, and an arrogant prick kicking me in the back of the eyeballs. Alright I'm exaggerating. Anyway drink those beers and not in that order and not in the same night the end.

Endurance Pale Ale; Ephemere chaser

A stop in at The Squealing Pig in Mission Hill left a plethora of options. First order of business, the Endurance Pale Ale, a product of the Commonwealth. Hoppy, sure, you betcha. Bitter, oh sure, just a bit. It was halfway up the trail between my good friend General Chamberlain and a typically stiff IPA from the Portsmouth Brewery. But how could I concentrate with all this food. And with the Mars Bar Toastie coming quickly, I had to find something lighter.

A scan of the beer menu led me to "Eph-emmer", which was promptly corrected by my server. "Eph-uh-mare" she snootily mused. Oh for the love of G*d whatever lady.

Call it what you will; I call it a sleeping pill. Those canucks put the kibosh on the rest of my evening in one fell swill. It was like drinking Unisom. Or maybe my hipster waitress spiked it and slipped me something as punishment for my awkward mispronunciation. Who really knows. Blame her for this sh*tty review.