Happy Valentines Day from The Beer Report! Chud here on this most sad, capitalist cash grab of holidays to bring you a beer review and some much needed relationship advice. Fist off let me give you a piece of historical information on this joyous day. Did you know there were actually fourteen St. Valentines? Yep, there were. What’s the more important to remember though is that all fourteen were martyred. How appropriate for a holiday about relationships.
You may be wondering, “How is it Mr. Chud , that on a day such as this, do you have the time to write us wonderful inebriated soliloquies when certainly your wife must want all of your attention?” Well adoring fans, it’s because AB and I understand something about respecting the truth and it has set us free. Most couples are stressing out about making sure whatever meaningless gifts they decide to shower each other with represent a deep enough cash investment to impress their partner, and at the same time suppress the anxiety they feel that this other person doesn’t really love them, but the stuff they have. We have dug deep and gained a profound secret to give each other what most people in a relationship want. A simple night of solitude to do what ever the hell you want without intrusion. Now THAT’S a fucking gift of love! It’s calm trust that you don’t have to be up each others asses every moment of every day without thinking the other person will be getting plowed by the UPS guy or banging coworkers to spite your inattention. Contrary to popular belief, life isn’t usually short. It’s actually a long fucking time. You’re going to be married most of it if you start before forty. Get your own life and enjoy, let your partner enjoy theirs and you’ll get along much better for it. We’ll exchange sweet glances walking between the kitchen and bathroom, both just generally happy the other one is happy. Is that really such a hard concept to wrap your head around?
On to the beer! I’m having a glass of beer that comes in a bottle size that mirrors most of your relationship skills. By that I mean inadequate. It’s only seven ounces. I have here a bottle of Rogue XS Imperial IPA. It pours like a long married woman; a dark copper color like it’s spent too much time in the sun, not very bubbly, and barely giving any head. This bitch hasn’t bothered getting pretty and putting any lace on anytime recently either. What do you know, she’s quite bitter too! There is a hint of sweetness, letting you know she was probably cool back when she was a teenager, and probably even into her early 20’s, but now it’s a cursory smile before she readies herself to unleash her spite on that annoying cunt in the office who she feels is always condescending towards her. No, not on the woman she’s angry at stupid, she unleashes that shit on you when you get home from work. You’ve got a lot of learning to do newb. Don’t worry, you’ll make some exasperated dick comment soon enough and legitimately turn that anger towards yourself soon enough.
So how’s the beer? Well it’s actually pretty good. Though honestly like Valentines Day it’s atrociously gawdy and over the top. Sure it’s hoppy, it’s tasty, but is worth the kind of monetary investment you made in it? Actually, getting the smaller bottle is probably better. I may have been more upset had I spent $15 on a larger bottle. It has a great base but the mix of Cascade, Saaz, NW Golding, and Rogue hops doesn’t really pull off all it hopes too. If they had gone to just Cascade the hell out of it the beer probably would have worked. Instead it kind of comes off like a warring cluster fuck of bitterness by opposing parties vying for your attention. It seemed like it was probably a good idea at the time, kind of like that threesome that left you both never trusting each other again, but in the long run things just didn’t work out quite as planned. This beer would have benefited from a little of what AB and I gave each other tonight; breathing space. Life is long. You don’t have to drink all the hops you have at once. Relax. Overall, this beer is going to end like most of my relationships. I’ll be sitting at my computer alone and looking for a(nother) beer.
2 1/2 out of 5 I.B.U.’s
Hey everybody, long time no writey. Well, the Chud is a busy man with many important things on his very important plate. But, since February I believe is officially the longest and crappiest month of the year I thought it would be a good time to get back into the writing chair. Really, what the hell is wrong with February? It should no longer be named, but simply referred to as the time the Earth is really pissed off because it’s waking back up. It’s best to stay indoors and just leave the planet alone until it gets some coffee and a bagel. The average workweek should be cut in half and recreational drugs should be rationed according to general public need. I think we can all agree this is a better plan than the current system.
By the way, thank you Egypt for letting us all see how much more fucked we have to get before we finally revolt. We’re not nearly ready to do anything about anything yet so lets all relax and have a beer.
We should in fact start hoarding beer now though. While we probably don’t have much to fear from 2012 being the end of the world as we know it, there’s actually a fairly large chance we will all die in 2039 from a meteorite named, and I’m not even kidding, 99942APOPHIS. It has about a 3% chance of obliterating the western half of the US. Take that pilgrimage to Stone Brewing while you still have a chance.
Anyway, the beer of the night is Smuttynose IPA from Smuttynose brewing out of New Hampshire. They’re a new addition to the line up at Friar Tuck’s and it’s a beer I’ve always heard good things about in print. There are two old farmer looking bastards on the label thinking they are the hot shit Bartles and James guys of the beer world sitting in front of a trailer. I don’t know what the point of this is as I highly doubt these guys would be caught dead drinking anything other than canned bubbling corn water. I’ll chalk it up to marketing gone wrong but if these two happy assholes are drinking it I can be goddamn sure it’s not ten bucks a six pack. On the bottom of the bottle it says “Finestkind.” According to their website it’s Finestkind IPA, though on the box it clearly says Smuttynose IPA. Hmmm… Methinks someone is getting really high while arranging this stuff. I don’t get it.
Luckily the beer has obviously had much more attention paid to it than the job someone’s unemployable stoner cousin is doing they hired for marketing. This is simply a wonderful beer. It’s flashing your normally expected deep golden hue, and looks even prettier due to the fact it’s unfiltered and still has a little funk in the trunk from the bottom of the bottle. In honor of the two manure spreaders on the bottle I won’t talk about the foo-foo lacing.
It’s very hoppy, and gives you a good dose of kick in that area, but it still feels very mellow. It’s a laid back beast with a very plush mouth feel to it. The slower you drink this the more satisfying it actually is. Maybe there’s something strangely archetypal about these plaid clad geriatrics after all that relates to the beer. You know rough around the edges but good natured and fun to talk to. They still make comments about wops, gays, and coloreds, but aren’t really racist, just too old to know it’s no longer acceptable to use those terms. You nod and smile because you know they’ll be dead and you’ll be getting their shit or will have to haul it away soon anyway.
So there you have it. It has hoppy goodness yet is still very smooth and refreshing. It packs a punch but still hugs you after and buys the next round. I still don’t think the old guys would drink it but I’ll probably being picking up another when the weather turns. This stuff has all the makings of the perfectly refreshing spring and summer beer. I would highly recommend picking some up.
4 out of 5 I.B.U.’s