Tag Archives: Beer

It’s gonna be a Brooklyn summer!

Happy Easter y’all


It’s been a while and I’m sorry about that. Cousin Tommy said I left everyone hanging and indeed, it’s true. One minute we’re in Patagonia and the next…well we’re back in old New York sleeping in our childhood bed, parents yelling from beneath the stairs.

It’s all a bit too much and sometimes the mind drifts. One easter ago Quito was our home, a whole hemisphere away. Good times they were but that was then…

Right now we’re social working it up in ol’ Brooklyntown and assisting the people of Flatbush and Coney Island in reaching their goals, commuting on the century-old LIRR to our quaint lil’ office in Manhattan to type our notes, and getting up close and personal with the big apple.

“It’s gonna be a Brooklyn summer!!” said the hipster to the fly, gliding past in skin-tight jeans and little boots, talking loudly on an iPhone and droning on about all the different types of craft brews he’d be offering at his bday party.

Look, everyone knows that hipsters are garbage and that they’ll do anything to be cool, but this is the kind of shit that would bring out the inner bully in anyone.

Ah but let us not forget that you are a light, that you are a sun. Drift within. This is your body. Did you get lost on the trip? Did you get trapped in memory? Did you forget? What did you do? Virtual mindgame…trivial paranoia… You had to make it a bad trip. Don’t see the light…Do not see right…

In this mirror of confession, what do you see? Your personality… all your goals and your fears? Your ambitions? The chess game of your life; got to check that, you can’t take it on the trip. All those animal impulses that you hide, and keep down below, all this baggage must be checked. You can’t take that on the billion year voyage.

Are you ready?

Then take this chalice, the elixir of life.


Damn son, thank the Gods for Magic Hat and all the hipster nerd beer bullies who sling the Magic Hate at our most favorite brews. More for us to doff and the much maligned Saint Saltan is a veritable treat. The beer police might have you believe that every exceptional brew has to be the equivalent of a fucking carbonated wine with an 8+% alcohol content but this is not the case and a case of Magical Hat Spring Fever offered up this tasty beauty, weighing in at a svelte 4.6% abv. The Manboy motto, more or less, is that a great beer should taste like drinking a glass of delicious bread. Brewed with coriander and sea salt, Saltan is brewed in the “Gose” style (whatever that means) but reads like a pilsner and is indeed delicious. It’s one of the best beers I’ve ever had. An adorable label adds to the charm and Saint Saltan is more God than saint. Bien impresionante…straw colored..remembrances dreampt of Cerveza Austral and the Patagonian hinterlands. In Hat we trust. 

Included along with the saint are a couple of other decent offerings from the Magical Hat spring collection:


Pistil: Pistil dandelion ale at 4.5%. Label states that such is brewed with dandelion. Indeed, it is possible but taste it me nots. Regardless, it is a tasty enough brew and does not dissapoint. Epa Epa! Wey IPAish. Nothing to write home about but it is Magic Hat man and we do love this shit. 

P1060144Ticket to Rye: 7.1% All access tour ticket to Rye. Part of MH’s “Tour of IPA’s” ticket is a darkish brew with an alcoholic bite. An outstanding ale. The taste is strong, powerful even. A powerful brew. Goes well with green corduroy pants on St. Patricks day, but don’t spill it on them. Be careful!

Just remember that the light that glows so bright glows half the night and stay tuned fans for more entertainment! Soon to come are tales of new bikes and dark nights! 


The Daily Penguin

Beer in bed


P1050876Some things change and some things stay the same. Bathing nude in glacial melt and supping seal meat aside, a year and a half on the road and we always seem to end up in the same place: drinking beer in bed and patiently awaiting the end of days. It’s all just a week away they say and we all still can’t just chill out; a pilfered copy of the daily penguin brings tales of woe, brutal muggins and tearful beatings. A world gone mad.


The final hour.

What will it bring? What does it all mean?

Does it matter?

We’ve breached Chile now, and again, and are chilling out in Punta Arenas. Not a bad place to spend some time, whittle away a few kopeks and cut some whale teeth. There’s something of a craft beer revolution going on here and not since Quebec have we seen such a menagerie of different and delightful brews lining the shelves in the local supermercado. The local brews have got something going on indeed and Cerveza Austral presents with a quartet of impressive entries.

P1050955Cerveza Austral: Zounds, this may be the best Latino brew yet! A true surprise! Costing no more than a dusty Quilmes, Chile’s Cerveza Austral is a steal. A wheaty, meady taste that’s hearty indeed. Why, you could have one for dinner. The best of the lot so far of all of continental South America, it’s a shame we had to wait this long. Like drinking a glass of delicious bread. 

P1060051Cerveza Austral Calafate Ale: Legend has it that any manchild who ingests the prized calafate berry will return to the land of their dreams: Patagonia. Can the same be said for cerveza Austral’s Calafate brew? We’ll just have to wait and see but maybe this is the stuff of legend indeed. A delicious brew at the end of the world? Sure, why not and Calafate Ale delivers. Delicious and delightful, notes of the calafate berry are felt, and blueberry-like is this particular brew. Fantastic. Que rico. Damela. Puta. Ahora.

P1050960Cerveza Austral Dark: Not bad, not bad at all. A dark brew indeed it is, but nothing too impressive. Another round for reppin’ the windblown Patagonian tree, knarled and shaped by the relentless winds which sweep and below across the continent. 

P1060033Cerveza Austral Pale Ale: Not disappointing. Pale aley, nothing more. Not as hoppy as one might imagine. Nonetheless, it’s a real Pale Ale and at the end of the earth no less. To the Austral brewery and it’s delicious brews, and to the end of the world. And to the end…



P1060043King Crab empanadas abound in Chilean Patagonia






Beer to my Heart

Boreal Dorcee: Never been a big fan of Boreale but decided to try this brew on a larf. Never seen this one before.  Hey, it’s good! Fresh, tasty. Not decadent but a delicious brew nonetheless. You see Boreale stateside on occasion and they are never fresh. Even in Montreal, Boreale was never good. Well, this one is and it goes down smooth. “Silky, but not sweet. Easy drinking ale. Subtle flavours of summer honey.” All hooligans concur.


Blonde de Chambly: 5% abv. Yet another Unibroue joint. An effervescent brew that is nearly unremarkable save for the coquettish minx adorning the bottle and clever backstory. “Blonde de Chambly honours the heroic Filles a Marier (marriageable girls) later known as Filles du Roi (King’s daughters). These brave single young women came to Nouvelle France in 1665 to help populate the colony. Many of them married officers and soldiers of the Carignan-Salieres Regiment, who built Fort Chambly on the Richelieu River and forged the legendary Iroquois peace of 1667. Most French Canadians are direct descendants of these extraordinary ancestors.  – Mild and refreshing Blonde de Chambly has a floral nose and light citrus bouquet. With its foamy white head and lively effervescence, it is an ideal partner for an unforgettable sensory experience.”  Mmmm…indeed. Go ahead, try one. And while you’re at it do yourself a favor and stare into those coquettish eyes, so wanton for the lonesome traveller.

Brune d’ Achouffe: 8.5% Just another run of the mill delicious French Canadian craft beer. Nothing extraordinary. You expect it to be good and it is. The label is a delight and adds to the enjoyment. A strong brew at 8.5% and a perfect complement to lunch. Baguette with pate and cheese perhaps? Mmm…perhaps. Like so many of these artisanal Quebecois brews, Brune d’ Achouffe is in perfect harmony! Cheers!

And the final reviews are in…

Zero hour approaches and stress levels skyrocket. Lot’s of what-ifs and should-i’s. The end-of-the-world cometh, and goeth. Gatherings and get-togethers galore, cuz everyone wants a piece of the manboy before he departs.

I’ve been drinking lots lately, for both merriment and medication. Maybe I’ll dry out on the great Canadian leg of my exodus. Maybe not.
Regardless, the final reviews are in.

Look, people have been clamoring for these reviews; for they need to know what to drink!

Unibroue Don de Dieu: 9.8%. pours w/ a small head. fizzy. smells like La Fin Du Monde, a tasty smell. Very similar LFDM. Strong, yet not hearty. Definitively Quebecois. Not French, but French Canadian. Goes down smooth, creamy, and sweet: a testament to the north and a great brew. Would pair well w/ some good cheese, perhaps some Gorgonzola? Mmm…perhaps!

Unibroue Mauditte: 8%. pours dark and woodsy like a casked scotch. Tasty. A strong brew no doubt with a high abv but not overpowering. Pleasant. Delicious. There is no syrupy taste, so common with red ales. In fact, it is crisp. Noble, even. Would pair well with some freshly caught game.

Lagunitas Hop Stoopid: 8%. Deliciously fresh as if poured from a cask. A delight. Truly hoppy! Extremely so, even. But yet, a perfect blend of bite. Lagunitas got this one right. High abv content, which is offset extremely well and bears little notice and serves to add to the taste even (a hallmark of a good brew). Delightful aroma and finish. Little head, big brains. A beer for the intellect.
Update: a great beer and makes all those who drink it warm and fuzzy, wistful for the future which lies ahead. Fuzzy. Drink at your peril, or not. Hip HOPs hooray.

Tragic Hat: Summer Soulstice

Hey you!

Imagine my delight whilst shopping for a post pullup (50 straight, beat that) party favor when I done run across this Magic Hat Summer Special Pack. Wait a minute, I thought, hath I not just sampled their Spring Specials? Sure, I reckoned, this must be an old box, some leftover remnant from days past, plucked from some dusty warehouse corner and shelved amidst fresher brews to doff off to an unsuspecting (and uncaring) Long Island populace (they’ll never know the difference anyway (but I will)). But no! A quick check of the freshness stamp brought the realization that these beers should be consumed on or before Memorial Day for optimal freshness. Meh, surely some trick, some scam! Why release the Spring specials and then immediately thereafter the Summer specials? And the Summer Specials are meant to be consumed before summer? Albeit, the date on the box was real, as it would not be wiped off no matter how hard it was rubbed with the thumb.

Well…a message from the Gods no doubt.

I took it as such and scored a twelve pack of PBR on the way out for $8.50.

Note: Sad that such is considered to be a deal in this day and age. The Magic Hat was $19.00. Beer should be free, man.

And so here I sit…on the LIRR going to the big city and rating these brews for your enjoyment:

Single Chair: 5%. Cap reads, “Congratulations, you’re night is about to get better.” But how can it get better if I’m already off to see good pals that will videotape me laughing and shoot it into space? And it isn’t even night time yet. It’s 3 o’clock.  Shame on you Magic Hat. You’re brews should be encouraged to be drank at ANY time, before work or while driving. I’ve heard by rumor that in some Western states, such as Idaho or Montana, one can drink and drive and drink while driving provided one’s blood alcohol content is below a certain percentage. Regardless, this is a really good beer. Actually really delicious. Reminiscent of Encore but slightly different. Refreshing. Not a good train riding beer but a good beer to drink while driving a Montana backroad in a convertible, or motorcycle sidecar even; while wearing goggles and an old helmet. Although I don’t care for the label, which features a ski lift, because I hate skiing, I love the beer. Bravo.

Wacko: 4.5% “A little weak” states Lucinda. A wonderful color and “fruitiness” to this one. It pours out looking a bit like a sparkling cherry juice. A little too bright. The label says that beets are added to produce said vibrancy but I say beets belong in borscht and have no place in beer. A little synthy tasting, Not something I expect from Magic Hat. Lucinda says that Wacko is, “all conceptual but has no soul.” She asked me to quote that.

Blind Faith: 6.2% Tastes like Single Chair if you added more alcohol. The label looks more wintery than summery and I don’t care for that sort of juxtaposition. I’ll take my summers hot and my winters cold please. Don’t try to make me feel cold in the summer or vice versa in winter time. Let me enjoy the heat without being cold. Stop trying to alter my perceptions Magic Hat. I know what you’re doing. Try putting a little puffy coat or vest on your winter beers and maybe a pair or swim trunks or old-timey one piece bathing suit on your summer beers and I’ll eat it up but not the other way around. Embrace the sun. Blind Faith, good nonetheless, but Single Chair is still my fave.

A Rebel Yell of Good Times Forgotten Past

“Stepping out into the morning dew Pipe Adams and Brady Taylor Thomas may have well been stepping onto the sands of some distant moon.

A gypsy approached as they made their way through the station and out into the soot. Clutching in its knurled digits some trinkets, which it offered for sale, it barked something neither could interpret as they brushed past; they held their packs ever closer.

“Cappuccino’s, gentlemen?”

Our boys strained bloodshot eyes to see the Kamhoz hostelier Xavier plying them again with sudsy caffeinated tipples.

“Good mourning Budapest,” thought Brady softly into his pillow. He strained his mind’s eye for a return salutation but none came. For this is a city with neither greetings nor salutations. It merely is and exists independently from all other places on earth.

“Good morning Brady,” whispered Xavier.


Hurtling through the European countryside and on towards Prague our heroes reposed, filled with a certain indescribable uneasiness having just been witness to the theater of the macabre. Wiping the grime from his can of Hungarian beer, Brady filled Pipe’s small plastic cup. Finishing it all in one gulp Pipe continuously bit the cup, marring its lip with uneven striations.

Brady eyed the anxiety riddled goblet without pity.

“I wonder how Marlo fares in the tropics?” queefed Pipe, lazily.

Brady opened his mouth to say something but words failed him. He took a sip of beer. Looking out the window into the Hungarian hinterlands he wondered not about Marlo…”

A recent foray into the refrigerated section of a local fancy organic supermarket yielded the author a bottle of Rebel, a Czechoslovakian brew. A tour of Eastern Europe in years past with compatriot Bradriot yielded unfavorable reviews of any and all Czech beers. With Marlo continuously reminiscing about his times spent studying in Prague and its remembrance dreamt of delicious Czech brews, it was decided to give this lowly Czech brew another run at the taste gamut. Of course, as it should with the sampling of any Eastern European delicacy, memories of a great hurrah resurfaced, and your author slumpt into his chair, sipping beer and dreaming of good times forgotten past.

Rebel (Czech Beer): alcohol content unknoweth. Syrupy in an average way. Know that it will lead to hangover if not consumed in moderation. Forgetful.

The Blue Sabino:
1 Part Absinthium
3 Parts Blue Malina
Drunk with the crook of one arm covering one’s face as if shielding one’s eyes from the privates of a young gypsy boy.

Adventures in Beersitting

The punishment of desire is the agony of unfulfillment.

That’s what they’re sayin’ these days.

Or so I hear.

Regardless, these next two brews left our author feeling fulfilled and a little smug in regards to his purchasing prowess.

Hot off the heels of the winter solstice comes Magic Hat’s fancy little seasonal variety pack which we loved so much during Halloween time. Bearing forth gifts of not only Howl and Encore, but also an odd notion brew, we here at manboyinthepromisedland would not be disappointed.

Magic Hat Odd Notion Winter ’10: 6% alcohol. A beautiful bottle shown with candy cane tower dominating winter hinterlands. Also shown is sleighman being pulled by 3 stars. Orion symbolism? (how droll!) States that it is brewed with hibiscus. What is hibiscus? Some pungent flower no doubt! A nice caramel color is observed when decanted into snifter. Will it be syrupy? No! It is tasty, different. No flowery smell or flavour to note. Starts with a burnt, nutty flavour but finishes smooth.


Next on the docket is Old Timey Samuel Smith’s Old Brewery Tadcaster celebrated Oatmeal Stout. They sell this at Trader Joes. My mom got it for me but don’t tell anyone.

pictured here with lion's head meerschaum, the ONLY way to enjoy such a delicious stout!

Samuel Smith‘s Oatmeal Stout: Wonderful! But not a revelation. Black and dark as night! Tastes not of oatmeal but more of like as a delicious stout should taste. There is no disappointment here. Tasty. Hearty but not Heavy. This is important. A revelation unto itself. Best enjoyed with pipe and quality tobacco and grandchild balanced on lap.

Quadraphenia Redux

Qua-dra-phe-nia (kwa-dra-fee-nee-a) n. 1 A tour of four Levittville bars.

Of the many things and thoughts spoken of and spoken aloud, and sometimes accomplished, but rarely spoken of again and rarer even blogged about, Quadraphenia comes to mind.

As a celebration of Levittvilles finest historical pubs and current trendsetting drinking establishments, Quadraphenia was dreampt ought with the best intentions, as a melding of old and new to bridge the generational drinking gap.
Currently, Quadraphenia rests in the backwaters of the hooligan mind, to be thought of not and its memory dusted off if only for the purposes of this aspiring blog.

Quadraphenia began as any other night, with Pipe Adams growing anxious and commencing activities alone. Drinking. In his garage.

To Gore’s!
A short while thereafter Mr. Adams ventured to Gore’s Olde Tyme Irish Pub and an even shorter while thereafter was he joined by Marlo Leelan Brown and his comfort girl for the evening Loo-loo. A round of toasts and boasts preceded much anticipation, or rather chagrin, for the boy of the evening Brady Taylor Thomas had yet to arrive. The Hooligans amused themselves with the AIDS infected barkeep, who informed our patrons that all is on the up and up at Gores Old Tyme Irish Pub and that it is certainly not a place that where narcotics are brought or bought or even sold. She pointed out the many cameras that Gore’s principle shareholder, Donny, had placed around the place to ward off any evildoers, lest they be captured on celluloid and shown to the authorities. Not only is Gores a law-abiding establishment, she said, but it is also a pretty happening place. However, as luck would have it, the Hooligans had arrived on a bizarre “off-night” where only two regulars sat stinking drunk at the bar. The hooligans did not care. Brady arrived and they bemused themselves with a video poker machine before taking the cue and continuing on with Quadraphenia.

To Fife and Drum Ale House!
Arrgh matey! Arrgh! A true drinking experience in Levittville would not be complete without a trip to the Fife says I!
Oh what glorious times had the hooligans at the Fife and Drum Ale House that evening. Pipe and Marlo regaled Loo-loo and Brady with tales of days past spent at the ol’ Drum, playing hacketty sack and drinking Michelobs on the back veranda inhaling the sickly sweet fumes of the Chinese Food place’s dumpster. In remembrance, Marlo sniffed the air like a finely rolled Cuban cigar and Pipe quaffed down yet another pint. All was well at the ol’ Fife and Drum. It being near Christmas time, the oil paintings and art nouveau sketches which hang on the wall were covered in wrappings, so as to resemble presents. The giggling Brady, ever so mischievous, coyishly eyed one and peeled back the wrapper, in the process sending all the hooligans into laughing fits.
And that is how the hooligans left The Fife and Drum Ale House that wintry eve.
And that is how I’d like to remember it.

To Monsignor Beerys!
The hooligans drudged on in the cold lament and finally made it Mr. Beery’s funtime pub. Hark! Quadraphrenia was now halfway complete!
The hooligans continued to imbibe and this time it was on the most sumptuous brews in all of Levittville. You see friends, Mr. Beery’s funtime pub has the grandest selection of all, with beers on tap from the farthest reaches of the globe. Mr. Beery makes a habit of traveling-ling-ling to the farest, fairest, and fanciest ports of call throughout the world. From each strange new place he’ll select two of the finest casks of beer he can find. But only two because thats all he can carry. One on each shoulder mates! And as luck would have it Mr. Beery was due in at any moment! My eardrums still ring from the whistles and cheers from when Steven Q. Beery burst through that saloon door, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. Onto the bar he placed two weather worn casks. In a booming voice he announced the origin of these brews to be Siberian. Mr. Beery had just walked across the Bering Strait! “But you must rest Steven, you’re feet must be tired!” implored the crowd. With a booming laugh Steven replied that he was merely thirsty. And with that he picked up the cask and finished it all in one gulp. “To Steven Q. Beery” shouted the hooligans in unison, raising their glasses. They followed this up with some slam dancing and were off

To Parkside Pub sirs!
To bring closure to the eve, the hooligans toured the backstreets of Levittville, passing little Mikhail Srogatoy’s cottage with a wink and a nod, on their way to the Parkside pub. There the hooligans were met with a sumptuous holiday buffet. As usual, Pipe engorged himself on chicken parmigiana, buffalo chicken wings, fried calamari, buttered lobster rolls, stir-fried eggplant, grilled cheese and tomato muffins, cans of sardines, snail entrails, spotted dick, gorganzola stuffed avacadoes, peppermint poppers, penguin breasts, stuffed quail, fried soft-shell crab sandwiches, and shawshank redemption sandwiches. Brady had some bits and pieces here and there out of want of hunger while Marlo and Loo-loo turned their nose at the whole affair and a game of billiards was played and lost against a gas pumping Peruvian pool shark. Thoughts and conversations turned to reflection on the evening spent touring Levittvilles finest.

The hooligans made their exit at the appropriate moment and took a long slow cold walk towards home, home being Gores for one last round. And as they made their way through the falling snow flakes and through Levittvilles frost dappled night, the memory of Quadraphenia was filed away forever.

Regentrification of Hooligan Brethren and Sistren or Review of Three Philosophers by Three Philosophers

Oh! Hooligan brethren and sistren! How you have been missed!
The Pilgrims of Pleiades have completed their most recent star cycle and returned to the land of nod in order provide your author with friendly companionship and you, the reader, with most excellent beer reviews!

Sitting down to a delicious afternoon meal of ham hocks, sweet potatoes, and goat cheese ensalada, a bottle of Ommegang’s Three Philospohers Ale was offered up as a sacrifice to compliment the sumptuous buffet, company, and tales of adventure provided by the pilgrims.

Arriving to us in a corked bottle, Three Philosophers bares a clean white label which can make it easily mistakable for a wine or, owing to its maple complexion, whiskey bottle.

Decanting this brew into appropriate goblets, the three philosophers discussed the merits and demerits of Three Philosophers against a conversational backdrop consisting of tales of woe and plenty, warnings against the recreational chemical known as methylenedioxypyrovalerone, and a viewing of Insane Clown Posse’s most recent joint and cultural touchstone: Miracles.

excerpt from Pipe Adams’ beer journal…

Ommegang Three Philosophers Ale: 9.8% alcohol content. Syrupy, says Marlo of 3 Philosophers, and not so much in a good way. Lu.Lu. likes it and notes its creamy headedness with a noticeable alcoholic bite that is cleansing, almost. She philosophizes that it pairs well with hearty food. A winter beer to be sure, and to be had with close friends, owing to its bite no doubt! Fuzzy and fizzy and while the label states that it is brewed with cherries or something, they can be tasted not! Marlo queefs that this brew sits and lingers atop the palette like a 400 pound juggalette.

Mother’s Milk

Note: While it may appear that this website is descending into a hodgepodge of beer and/or bicycle related news bits, please note that the original intent and mission remains true. As the countdown to zero hour approaches, it is hoped that such articles will be of some interest to the like-minded reader/adventurer in the meantime, at any rate.

Now, I know what you all are thinking.

Know that I know about all those thoughts rattling around in your skull like so many dum-dum bullets.

“I wish there was a website that spoke to me directly as a person and not as a dollar sign.”

“Why isn’t anyone talking and/or writing about the things that I care about?”

“Why can’t I find a website loosely devoted to beer reviews, that otherwise doesn’t appear to make any sense?”

“Why can’t I find a website that caters to my perspective/dynamic, the Manboy perspective/dynamic?”

The answer to all of your questions and concerns lies within these pages, so, do not fear!

On the docket for today we have several beer reviews. Pipe Adams has been a busy boy as of late, drinking his fill of delicious tipples and chronicling his thoughts in his diary. The beer store near his house offers a wide variety of all sorts of intoxicating brews from around the globe. A staggering array really, enough to keep any manchild busy.

A constant attractant for the author is anything that comes from Quebec, an exotic Northeast hinterland that enraptures the lonely traveller with adventure served up on an icy platter at all times. Hazy memories of drunken times in Montreal are rekindled when a bottle of Unibroue’s Trois Pistoles is spied, plucked from the shelf, and spirited home. As noted in my previous installment, Unibroue’s attention to packaging is wholly apparent, as Trois Pistoles’ vehicle of choice is a beautiful corked bottle with an image of a winged horse flying majestically over a church through ruddy skies.
Fair enough.

excerpt from Pipe Adam’s beer journal:
Trois Pistoles: 9% alcohol. Delicious. A quality brew worthy of all hooligans. Grapey, winey taste. As noted on the label, “…a remarkably mellow dark ale. To compliment its aroma of ripe fruit, it has a pleasant aftertaste that lingers on like old port wine.” An apt description if there ever was! A beer that should be drunk in a cabin in the woods in the dead of night! In the dead of winter!

Again, I can’t quite say enough about Unibroue’s wonderful and thoughtful approach to quality. They even make up a little story about each of their beers. Please follow this link to learn the legend of Trois Pistoles and become enraptured in ecstasy. Wunderbar!

On a separate note, whilst searching for decadent and quality beers it came to my rapt attention that many, many beers of high quality are brewed by monks. Now, why would monks, a pious lot not necessarily associated with alcohol consumption, feel it necessary to produce excellent beers? An internet query yielded the answer. Apparently, in days long ago it was not always safe to drink water. Beer provided a safe alternative to merely drinking water because, although unknown at the time, the alcohol contained within destroyed harmful bacteria and parasites that made drinking water so dangerous. Of course, this doesn’t really make sense because alcohol dehydrates you. But, we’re talking about the Dark Ages here, so whatever. In addition, the carefully made brews produced by the monastery yielded a relatively nutritious and caloric intake during times of fast. As such, many of these quality brews can be sipped and/or supped as a meal replacement. Travel Tip: You will likely get pretty drunk if you do this.

Next up on the docket is Anchor Steam Brewing Company’s 2009 Christmas Ale. Like Unibroue’s beers, Anchor Steam’s Christmas Ale suffers not the detriment of age and its constitution will, in fact, improve over the years.

2009 Christmas Ale: 5.5% alcohol. Also good. Delicious even. Tastes similar to a Manhattan Special soda in beer form. Name does not disappoint and all the joys of Christmas are imparted unto drinker. Special. Hints of cinnamon, nutmeg, etc.

In addition to the aforementioned alcoholic tipples, our author was lucky enough to meet up with old time crony and enigma unto himself, DJ Jared as a trip to the Peekskill Brewery was in the works! Our dynamite and dynamic duo was able to thoroughly sample both food and fare. A sampler round of eight beers was ordered as the hooligans saddled up to the bar to munch on sandwiches and artisanal meats.

The Peekskill Brewery is a carefully thought out establishment with an air towards quality. Our chums were immediately delighted with the bar seating arrangement, for at each of the corners of the wooden bar a half circle is built into it; which, if you and your buddy sit on either side, functions like a bartop/table hybrid. The best of both worlds!
This establishment is similar in appearance and style to most other brewpubs in that the interior is softly lit and contains lots of wood, which provides for the appropriate atmosphere. The staff is friendly, courteous, and knowledgeable about their products.

Now, although I truly wanted to love this place with all my heart, I found the beer to be lacking…something. I could not quite put my finger on it. Now, it is quite possible that our old friend from Unibroue hath visited this site as an impish saboteur, but this is only theory.

Peekskill Brewery journal excerpt…

Keegan Ales‘ Mother’s Milk: An average brew at best. Nothing remarkable. Only 3.2% alcohol. A tasty stout no doubt but nothing more. Imagined this would be creamier, owing to its name.
Peekskill Brewing Hop Common: Hoppy. Pilsnerish. Nice bubbly bite to it.
Peekskill Brewing Ry Guy’s Rye: Strong alcohol taste that does not quite jive. Not great but not terrible. Fresh.
Peekskill Brewing Cha Cha Chai: Gimmicky. Literally tastes like Chai tea. Halloweenish pumpkiny brew. Another stupid name.
Old Wagon-Ale: Tasty, high alcohol content brew at 8.2%. Nothing special.
Captain Lawrence Double IPA: eh!
Pussy Sweat Pale Ale: Salty and sweet, a true beer lover’s treat!
Lagunitas Brown Shugga: eh. Another stupid name.
Dogfish Head Chicory Stout: a little watery. DJ Jared did not like it. enough said.

And there you have it. I was not impressed, really. Just wasn’t feeling it that day.

We often speak of quality here at the promised land, but one must never confuse quality for the act of trying too hard. I hope you catch my drift. Emoticon: wink!

It is a very hard thing to produce something that is wonderful. You can never really blame someone for trying…can you?