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.
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.
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.
