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I do not have a discerning tongue. Subtle flavors, nuanced tastes, they all escape my Neanderthalian tongue. And that’s why I revere Sierra Nevada’s new Hoptimum IPA: there’s nothing in any way subtle about it.
So it’s time to wax lyrical about that about which much lyric has been waxed: beer with lots of hops. It’s a real phenomenon, this hop thing, and it’s all in celebration of the bold, unrestrained, impossible-to-miss taste. (As well as puns; it’s a near requirement that any hop-...
Has it ever occurred to you that indie music aficionados and craft-beer hobbyists are after the same thing? That despite their radically different demographic makeup* they’re using some of the same criteria to decide worth, namely: rarity, exclusivity of experience, uniqueness? That “I have an original first-release Captain Beefheart record” and “I’ve had a glass of ________, of which there existed only ten kegs nationwide” are logically equivalent as attributive value statements? That...
As it is and was and probably ever will be, the possibility of crushing disappointment is the oft-ignored shadow of our highest expectations. This is the pessimist’s view of the optimist’s hope. And never is my blissful optimism more inhumanly shattered than when I head down to my local Safeway in search of some aged Gouda.
For the uninitiated, aged Gouda is to cheese what the bull is to the china shop. It doesn’t float over your tongue in a passive waltz; it seizes your taste buds...
