Strange Land Brewery The Old North Road English Strong Ale

"Brewed with vanilla, rum, and oak."  From Strange Land?  For me? Yes, please!

I've had a lot of luck with the fanciful beers of Strange Land Brewery, so this weeks' selection wasn't a big risk.  It has some IBU's and some ABV's.  The label is nice enough to be good, but not so nice as you'd notice.  It claims to be an English strong ale (whatever that means).  And absolutely none of that matters for more than a thought or two.  What matters is the putting of beer into my face.

I'm stuffed up right now, which makes the sniffing of the beer a less than detailed investigation, but even through the nasal mud, there is browns, sweets, and malts.  It's smells like sitting in a comfy wing-back chair, while wearing a smoking jacket and fez.  Yup, smells English-y as fuck.

It's dark.  It's frothy.  It's thick and an all but opaque dark brown.  This beer looks inviting, like it calls to me.  "Come here and drink me! Never mind those rocks, sailor."  While some cowards might lash themselves to the mast, or stuff their ears with cotton, I know that the proper action is to dive into the water and go drink that beer.

It is a very rich, very sweet, lightly coppery, heady, infused with that "barrel aged" goodness, and a very very slow drinking.  There is a sort of brutal directness to the strength and richness of this beer.  I'd call it a beast, but this guy demands to be consumed slowly, too slowly for quaffing.  Sipping is top speed for this guy.  I like a beer that makes me take my time and enjoy it.  I'm at hour 2 on this bottle.  Send help.

Drink it.  Really, drink anything from Strange Land Brewery.  There's no point in reviewing them anymore.  They make good beers.  I'm out!

Thornbridge Saint Petersburg Imperial Russian Stout

Hello Gorky Park!  I love your trees and knapsacks.  And your beer, I love your beer.  Damn it, I love me some Imperial Stout.  So malty, soo rich, sooo many ooooo's.

Thornbridge Saint Petersburg Imperial Russian Stout, from our brothers and sisters from other mothers and misters across the pond at Thornbridge Brewery, Bakewell, England.  It's dark, frothy, rich, comes in a big ass bottle, and has a reasonable 7.7% ABV.  The Brits are good like that

Here in The States (well, here in Texas) we respect the brewing traditions of the Brits, so when I see a style of beer I worship, like the imperial stout, brewed up by some Englanders, I say, "Bring it on."  It's a bottle conditioned beer, made with a focus on malt and chocolate.  The label says some bullshit about a subtle "peat smokiness", but I don't taste it.  Maybe the label guy just had nasty B.O.  Ugh, that sounds gross.  This is why I should never read the label; because someone might have had a repulsive personal stank when they wrote it.

The label on the other side of the bottle does feature a stony white chick, who looks topless, so that's nice.  On the neck of the bottle, the Thornbridge seal is pretty bad ass too.  I bet they have made out of iron at the top of an arch  that you can walk under.  Otherwise, the label isn't all that wonderful for distracting yourself.  I can't even peel it off when I get bored.  It's really stuck on there.

The label is a 5 out of 10, its OK to look at but won't pass the time.  The sweet boozy beer inside the bottle is like a 7 out of 10, which is actually better than it sounds.  I think the average beer is a 2 out of 10, most likable beers get the 5 out of 10 spot, 9 or 10 out of 10 are reserved for those gods among men of beers (I'm looking at you, Fifty/Fifty Eclipse Imperial Stout), leaving 7 and 8 for surprisingly good beers.  Really 7 out of 10 is a huge compliment.  You're welcome, Thorny.

Here's the thing, though: I miss the 9's and 10's.  Sure, a beer like this guy is satisfying, lovely, tastes great, and does it's best to fill that beer-shaped hole in my heart (never let your heart surgeon drink on the job), but sometimes a good beer mostly makes me want to be drinking a great beer.  That's what we got here.  This is a quite good beer, just good enough to make me wish I was drinking a better beer.  Maybe one with label writing from someone who bathes regularly.

Seguin Brewing Co., Honey Pecan cream Ale #5

Do you remember the excitement of trying a new beer?  I always get a tickle when I pull something new and exciting from the shelf, chill it in the fridge, get out my favorite beer glass, and pour a nice fancy glass of adventure.  Even if the beer is nothing special (or often terrible), I'm gonna have a good time finding out.  I am Yuri Gagarin, Tenzing Norgay, and a dude eating truck stop sushi all rolled into one.

Seguin Brewing Co. has offered up this Honey Pecan Cream Ale #5, and I, Yuri Norgay the sushi adventurer, am bored shit-less by it.  It isn't bad or anything.  If it was bad, I'd have something to write about.  It isn't good either.  It's just... well... it might as well be beige.  If someone told me I had to throw the rest of the bottle away, I could do it without a second thought.  It tastes like a medium bodied, honey tinged, generic ale-flavored ale.  It is perfectly acceptable and tastes just fine.  I'm thinking of having some chips.

I'm not even sure why it is so dull.  More than that, I super don't care.  As a beer lover (snicker snicker), I feel like I should have an opinion, be reminded of something, or give even a modest fuck about a new beer.  But, no.  I've watched 3 tv shows and part of a movie while writing this, I still have plenty of beer left, and not a single damn to give.

The lesson to take away from all this is simple: when life give you lemons, make lemonade, but when life gives you plain white sandwich bread, enjoy your dry toast.