Oh how I would have loved to been on the islands while drinking this. My sweet, lovely mother snuck me back a can of this light lager and I was incredibly excited to sip on this brew while eating my home-made double decker tacos. The Maui Brewing Company only bottles their beers in cans, citing their care for the environment, and keeping the beer protected from sun light. While I'm not a huge fan of cans, I let it slide considering the awesome drawing of a bikini babe on the can, and since my mom had to beg the stewardess to give her an un-opened can of the blonde as well.
The color was a light yellow like a blonde should be, yet cloudy at the same time which caught me off guard, but also got me excited to give it a try. MBC created a very mellow taste that was very complicated at first. While their web site claims that the beer is crafted with 100% malted barley, the after taste really had a subtle, smooth hint of hops that is incredibly unique that I've never tasted in a blonde before. It may be the perfect beer for right after a long surf/bogey boarding session, depending on your preference of water activities.
If this beer was a person, this beer would be Diane Kruger. Well known for looks, but there's definitely something deeper and complex about the beauty. I mean, she did help Nick Cage find the hidden treasures of the Freemasons; she's got to have some brains right?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Today was my day off
There is a small organic market on a corner in Eugene. Sundance Natural Foods. I rode my bicycle there this evening, a beautiful balmy evening, and I bought a beer. I bought one twelve ounce bottle of Workingman's Brown Ale by Dick's Brewing Company. I also bought an artisan loaf with cilantro polenta and cracked pepper and a small wedge of smoked gouda. The total came to seven dollars, eighty four cents and printed on the receipt was a quotation:
"If God Dwells inside us like some people say, I hope He likes enchiladas, because that's what He's getting" --Jack Handy
I didn't notice the quotation until later, after the bread and cheese washed down with some brown. I was sitting on a gravebench in the pioneer Masonic cemetery, four blocks deep off the market, watching the beautiful summr evening relax into the sunset. I had taken off my shoes; my knife sat next to me. The empty bottle sat next to the knife and I sat watching the colors filter through the trees' silhouettes reaching towards eachother.
I took the reciept out of my pocket, looked at it, read it and put it back. I picked up the bottle and examined the label. It featured a man with his sleeves really rolled up. He was binding grain with his bare hands and behind him were hills of fields. More work. I looked at him and I felt guilty, like I was drinking his beer while he was still on the clock. I was sitting here, feeding myself metaphorical enchiladas, and all he got was the 5 cent deposit.
Seriously. I recalled my thoughts during my meal. How pleasantly the brown ale soothed my tongue after the peppercorns had bitten it. How comfortably the cilantro had rested against the smoky cheese. And how refreshing was it to imagine myself tilting the bottle back, silhouetted against the setting sun, draining off the last drop of the day.
I looked again at the man in the bottle, sweating under the blue hot sky and I hoped that he would be finished soon and that he could go home after a long day and sit and watch it come to a close. I hoped that on his days off, when his evenings were free like mine was tonight, he came up to a good sight, took off his shoes, ate a snack and drank it all in.
www.dicksbeer.com
"If God Dwells inside us like some people say, I hope He likes enchiladas, because that's what He's getting" --Jack Handy
I didn't notice the quotation until later, after the bread and cheese washed down with some brown. I was sitting on a gravebench in the pioneer Masonic cemetery, four blocks deep off the market, watching the beautiful summr evening relax into the sunset. I had taken off my shoes; my knife sat next to me. The empty bottle sat next to the knife and I sat watching the colors filter through the trees' silhouettes reaching towards eachother.
I took the reciept out of my pocket, looked at it, read it and put it back. I picked up the bottle and examined the label. It featured a man with his sleeves really rolled up. He was binding grain with his bare hands and behind him were hills of fields. More work. I looked at him and I felt guilty, like I was drinking his beer while he was still on the clock. I was sitting here, feeding myself metaphorical enchiladas, and all he got was the 5 cent deposit.
Seriously. I recalled my thoughts during my meal. How pleasantly the brown ale soothed my tongue after the peppercorns had bitten it. How comfortably the cilantro had rested against the smoky cheese. And how refreshing was it to imagine myself tilting the bottle back, silhouetted against the setting sun, draining off the last drop of the day.
I looked again at the man in the bottle, sweating under the blue hot sky and I hoped that he would be finished soon and that he could go home after a long day and sit and watch it come to a close. I hoped that on his days off, when his evenings were free like mine was tonight, he came up to a good sight, took off his shoes, ate a snack and drank it all in.
www.dicksbeer.com
Friday, July 25, 2008
Fun Fact Friday!
In a generic discussion the other day, I was told that the process of a woman giving birth on her back was started by the French King Louis the Fourteenth. Up until his time, women would stand to give birth rather than lay down. However, this was more difficult for Ol' Louis to watch the child birth. Why he would want to watch I'm not sure, the scene from Knocked Up is enough for me, but I digress. Since everyone wanted to be considered royalty, or apart of the upper class, giving birth on back became a trend to prove one's sophistication. I'm sure today there are some medical reason's why women continue to lay while giving birth, or maybe it's more comfortable, I do not know.
I can just imagine the pick up line with this little nugget right now: "We don't got to follow Louis' lead girl. If you want to stand while giving the baby we make tonight I'm cool, I'm down with women's rights." I think there might be something wrong with the way I think.
Regardless have a fun and safe weekend, and look forward to a beer review on monday!
I can just imagine the pick up line with this little nugget right now: "We don't got to follow Louis' lead girl. If you want to stand while giving the baby we make tonight I'm cool, I'm down with women's rights." I think there might be something wrong with the way I think.
Regardless have a fun and safe weekend, and look forward to a beer review on monday!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Curriculum Vitae
The first beer I can remember drinking was a Miller Genuine Draft with a chunk of lime crammed down the neck. I was seventeen and sitting in the back of a pickup truck singing about the emgeeeeedeee sunrise coming up over the rest of the campground. I drank that beer, and I drank a few more, and I decided that I didn't like it because it didn't get you drunk fast enough and it tasted like shit. I spent a few more years like that, swilling the cheapest of vodkas and grudgingly imbibing thirtyracks of pisswater. I loved it; ignorance was bliss.
When I was almost nineteen, I tasted my first beer. I thought that the Deschutes Cindercone Red Seasonal Ale gripped in my fist was perhaps the foulest beverage I had ever allowed to pass between my lips. A friend of mine had shoved it off on me after he stole it from his dad's fridge.
"This shit is gross. Do you want it Pat? You'll drink it right?"
True to form, I answered "Probably," and probability proved a blessing. I took one swallow, coughed it on my jeans and poured the rest down the sink. At that moment though, the flicker of curiosity that governs the world of beer jumped, igniting the now comfortably ablaze appreciation I have for a good brew. That one bitter bite showed me that there were more options to beer than just lite, ice and original.
Two years later, I had my first pint. I had been twenty one for about six minutes, had a glass in each hand and another resting on the table. In the name of efficency I tried to drink all three at the same time. I coughed those on my jeans too. However, the following day, I had my first real pint, sitting and relaxing, enjoying the intricacies and delicacies of each little Drop Top sip with my beermigos. Now, I can't help but think, just a little bit, just the tip, about the composition, the make up, ingredients and process that goes into every beer I drink. Some beers don't require much thought, but others keep my head spinning, even to the point where the room keeps moving once I lay down and try to sleep.
Beer is good. It is healthy and delicious. I have tried many and I plan to try more. Someday, I might make my own for you to try. But for now, I will describe, in too much detail, my relationships with beer for your amusement and education. Thus is my mission.
Peace,
Pat
P.S.
Top five beers off the top of my head
1. Dollar Pabst (any form)
2. Pitcher of Blue Moon
3. Pint of Deschutes Black Butte Porter
4. Amnesia
5. Case of Fat Tire
When I was almost nineteen, I tasted my first beer. I thought that the Deschutes Cindercone Red Seasonal Ale gripped in my fist was perhaps the foulest beverage I had ever allowed to pass between my lips. A friend of mine had shoved it off on me after he stole it from his dad's fridge.
"This shit is gross. Do you want it Pat? You'll drink it right?"
True to form, I answered "Probably," and probability proved a blessing. I took one swallow, coughed it on my jeans and poured the rest down the sink. At that moment though, the flicker of curiosity that governs the world of beer jumped, igniting the now comfortably ablaze appreciation I have for a good brew. That one bitter bite showed me that there were more options to beer than just lite, ice and original.
Two years later, I had my first pint. I had been twenty one for about six minutes, had a glass in each hand and another resting on the table. In the name of efficency I tried to drink all three at the same time. I coughed those on my jeans too. However, the following day, I had my first real pint, sitting and relaxing, enjoying the intricacies and delicacies of each little Drop Top sip with my beermigos. Now, I can't help but think, just a little bit, just the tip, about the composition, the make up, ingredients and process that goes into every beer I drink. Some beers don't require much thought, but others keep my head spinning, even to the point where the room keeps moving once I lay down and try to sleep.
Beer is good. It is healthy and delicious. I have tried many and I plan to try more. Someday, I might make my own for you to try. But for now, I will describe, in too much detail, my relationships with beer for your amusement and education. Thus is my mission.
Peace,
Pat
P.S.
Top five beers off the top of my head
1. Dollar Pabst (any form)
2. Pitcher of Blue Moon
3. Pint of Deschutes Black Butte Porter
4. Amnesia
5. Case of Fat Tire
Beer Resume by John
Years drinking beer: four
First beer: Henry Weinhard's Private Reserve
Favorite beer styles: Pale Ale, Amber Ale, Pilsner, Blonde, ESB, Lager, Stout, IPA
Favorite bars: Sam Bonds Garage, Jameson's
Why you should consider what I say: Plain and simple, I love beer. Very rarely do I find a beer that I don't like. So maybe I'll have somewhat of a bias towards every beer, but I can't pretend to be someone else, I have to be me. What I hope to do is give you, the reader, an idea of what the beer tastes like so you can decide for yourself whether or not you will buy it next time you see it in a bar or a store.
Why I love beer: It has a versatility that I find very hard to compare to any other type of food or drink. Not only are there multiple styles of beer that vary, each individual brewer has their own take on the style. This creates a beautiful platform for the creative mind in constructing something that is delicious and can portray different cultures of the world.
First beer: Henry Weinhard's Private Reserve
Favorite beer styles: Pale Ale, Amber Ale, Pilsner, Blonde, ESB, Lager, Stout, IPA
Favorite bars: Sam Bonds Garage, Jameson's
Why you should consider what I say: Plain and simple, I love beer. Very rarely do I find a beer that I don't like. So maybe I'll have somewhat of a bias towards every beer, but I can't pretend to be someone else, I have to be me. What I hope to do is give you, the reader, an idea of what the beer tastes like so you can decide for yourself whether or not you will buy it next time you see it in a bar or a store.
Why I love beer: It has a versatility that I find very hard to compare to any other type of food or drink. Not only are there multiple styles of beer that vary, each individual brewer has their own take on the style. This creates a beautiful platform for the creative mind in constructing something that is delicious and can portray different cultures of the world.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Welcome!
Just as an introduction, this is Beer-migos! We're three guys drinking beer, and writing down what we think about em. If you've been thinking to yourself that you need to try a new beer, but you just don't know what to get, we are here for you. Consider us your taste testers, guinea pigs if you must, in the world of beer. Read our reviews on the beer, and decide whether it's worth trying. Yet then again, in our opinions, there's never been a beer we've never wanted to try. We'll be posting soon, so come back in a day or two.
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