Mondays are not normally a day for a quick beer, but this Monday had been particularly painful. I felt that as a reward for surviving through the cold and unforgiving ay I should grab a beer from the fridge, sit on the sofa and contemplate my life choices.
I opened the can and the air filled with an aroma of toffee and citrus, something that I was not prepared for. I poured the amber fizzy beer into a glass and admired the nice head that had formed. This was a good-looking beer. Its appeal went a lot deeper. It was tasty, thick, and smooth like a proper no-fuss beer should be.
Despite alluding to be one of those awful fruity beers this one made my Monday night by being a good down to earth drop of beer, suitable for celebrating my survival of another Monday
I had spent the afternoon pruning trees and generally deforesting the back garden. The pruning wasn’t the heard bit but clearing the mess to return the garden to a tranquilly oasis of calm was. I sat down, hot and sweaty and surveyed my work. All that was missing in the picture was a cold beer in my hand. That was something I could fix.
I could smell the fruit the moment I opened the bottle, its fragrance filled the air. I poured the very pale clear golden yellow liquid into a glass. It looked flat. The odd bubble made its way to the surface but that was about it.
I took a sip and instead of a beer I discovered a sweet passionfruit cordial. It was a nice drink for a hot day, but it wasn’t really what I would call a beer.
It was very hot outside, far too hot to be doing anything that could be labelled constructive. I escaped the heat by retreating to the living room, sitting under the air conditioner and watching people hurl themselves down snowy slopes in another part of the world. I still wasn’t cool enough. I needed liquid cooling. A visit to the fridge later and I had an ice-cold glass full of beer
It looked very yellow and cloudy. It was the sort of yellow than warns about radio activity. I didn’t take this as a good sign. The fruity mango smell suggested that this could be yet another orange squash beer. I took a sip and realised that it wasn’t, it was a mango squash beer. It was pleasant and light and did the job of cooling me down with some added taste. I could have just had a cordial from the fridge, but this beer was good enough.
There was a lot of pomp and tradition to watch on the television this evening, I don’t normally watch that sort of thing, but I made an exception. I sat down with a selection of cheese and biscuits and felt that a nice beer would help the experience.
I began to think I had made a mistake in my selection when the strange smell of sickly flowers filled the air. It rose above the muddy dark orange liquid and did little to entice me to drink. I summoned up some courage and took a swig. It was, and I cannot emphasise this enough, truly hideous. The soapy liquid flavoured with passion fruit and grapefruit had no redeeming features whatsoever.
It is very rare that I pour a beer down the sink, this was one of those occasions.
Some Saturdays are full of activity, this was one of them. I’d started the day with some exercise on the bike and then turned my hand to some chores around the house. It had got to that time of day where celebrating successful outcomes was applicable, even if those outcomes were tired legs and a tidy garden. I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, poured in into a cold glass and sat down for the first time in what seemed like an age.
I was hoping for a nice solid IPA, what I got was a cloudy and orange concoction that smelt of mango and tasted of grapefruit. Refreshing, yes, but not very different from a fruit cordial. This was very much an orange squash beer.
I wanted something weak and wet to cleanse the pallet after a particularly good meal. This one looked like it would fulfil that function, so I poured myself a glass and settled down on the sofa for a post dinner drink.
It looked a bit muddy and smelt of bread, I took this as a good sign as bread and beer require yeast. I couldn’t think of a way to justify the muddiness. Maybe taking a sip or two would give me inspiration.
Taking that sip was the wrong thing to do. This drink was a thin and pleasant fruity drink that was only a distant relation, possibly third or fourth cousin, to beer. I finished it but won’t be having another
I find that a long and hard exercise session require a long and hard sitting down session to balance things out and retain an equilibrium. After a bit of staring into the middle distance for a while I felt that my equilibrium could be further restored with some hydration. It would have been rude not to have a beer.
I put the dark amber beer into a glass, the smell of mango filled the room. I was surprised that it wasn’t accompanied by some citrus.
The beer went down nicely, it had the bitterness of a pale ale and a little bit of mango, much less that the smell would have led me to believe, but without the sweetness of mango. When I first opened the can I thought it may have been an orange squash beer, but it wasn’t. This is a beer that I would happily drink again.
I had a hard day of sitting in the sun and sampling cheese. It was a hard task, but I felt that I was up to it. My friends had been drinking wine and I was the designated driver for the day. Once I got home, I felt that by abstinence should be rewarded.
I put my reservations about name dark pale ale to one side, I’ve been boring on the subject before, and poured the beer into a glass. It looked terrific. It was a proper dark beer with a thick creamy head. I could almost mistake it for an ice cream.
It tasted as good as it looked. It was bitter and smooth with a malty taste followed by an instant bitter aftertaste that disappeared in an instant. This beer was perfect, with, or without cheese.
I’m not a big follower of football but I live with someone who is. I have to, when their team is playing, find refuge in the spare room. This allows them to cheer, hide behind the sofa, yell at the ref and all the other things that football supporters do without me being in the room to point out the obvious bias. I sit in the spare room and watch programs that they don’t want to whilst sipping a beer or two.
For tonight’s refuge beer I’d chosen a hazy pale ale, based on the fact that it was the only one in the fridge. As I poured it into the glass it filled the room with the smell of grapefruit. This was not a subtle aroma. I didn’t have to put my nose close and sniff. It looked very orange and very fizzy.
Unsurprisingly, it tasted of grapefruit. I would have been surprised if it smelt of anything else. It was clean and refreshing but very much an orange squash beer.
I had got to the end of the evening after attending to no end of personal trivia. These were the kind of things that I should have done the moment they appeared but had left until they gathered like stubborn dust balls under the bed. After spending the evening crushing the trivia, I needed a drink to settle down. The name of this beer appealed to me. I felt that I had slayed the trivia beast and now I could drink the beast as well
I wasn’t sure what type of beer this was going to be. The label was vague on that point. It was a pleasant surprise to find it was a dark beer that yielded to a thin creamy head at the top of the glass. I knew form the look and the sweet smell that this was a beer I was going to enjoy.
It was a beautifully thick beer; it was almost chewy. It had an unsubtle malty flavour complemented by a bit of bitterness that quicky hid itself.
Even though this is a strong beer and not really for bulk consumption I would have happily drunk a few more bottles.