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.
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