Magic Hat Elder Betty

My first alcoholic beverage was a Smirnoff Ice.  I was suicided, Guildensterned then.  I understand it’s now a full-blown broheme cold war ballistic. Blue Moon we barely knew thee.  Smirnoff Ice in carved-out-books.  Ice in bassinets. But always warm to the wrist.  “Women’s” drinks have become weaponized. So to be clear, Magic Hat Elder Betty is not a women’s drink.  It’s Reagan Star Wars.  Much like Magic Hat #9 – a staple, I think – it’s a little bit of both.  Elderflower – in the form of St. Germain – is, you know, a thing now.  Elderberry, from the same plant, is new, but…elder.  Newfangled, but oldfag.  Gotta remember these ratings, it’s all anybody reads – 3.9/5.0.

Rogue Double Dead Guy Ale

/jumanji dust blow/ As an introduction – my brother has limited himself to one or two beers a week. But he loves beer. This means that over a lifetime, he can be a dilettante in every beer, or an expert in one. He chose expert – in stouts. “Methinks you ice a bro,” I told him, hanging my head in shame. He fed me stouts that tasted like chocolate, oatmeal, bourbon and milk, but until recently, none that tasted like beer. But his alien archaeology has brought him full circle. ‘Imperial’ stouts are dry as fuck. Thinking “imperial” was the bitter signifier (ala, the ‘imperial’ hop-preservative-soaked voyage of IPAs), I tried other “imperials.” Apparently imperial just means booze heavy - which makes a stout dryer, but other beers sweeter. My experience with this whole class of beers – imperials, doppels, trippels – has been mouth-puckeringly sweet, with the exception of stouts, and this here beer. Rogue Double Dead Guy Ale. Definitely a double-strong beer, with all the indicia – zero effervescence, slightly more than zero head, the swirly oil-in-water appearance of a champagne cocktail and that barleywine/mead sweetness. And yet bitter too? Bitchin. Faces on Mars. But truth is a strong term. This beer is not truth. Tumblr? Thoughts? I'm happy to import the old posts for posterity.