Magic Hat Stealin' Time Summer Wheat while watching Alien3

What happens when you combine Magic Hat's Stealin' Time summer wheat ale with a few hours watching Aline3?

It wasn't the best Alien movie.  It isn't the best beer.  But I have an evening to myself and nothing to do but write about beer.  So, I started the movie and cracked my first beer.

The beer was cold when Newt and Hicks died.  By the time Ripley woke up and the dog was clearly going to be in trouble, the bottle had started to sweat.  When the bodies started dropping the crispness of the cold wheat beer was cutting through the heavy handed set designs and color palettes, No beer will ever be enjoyable when a dog is killed (theatrical or not, that was a cute rottweiler).  And by the cafeteria scene I was on beer number 2.

Like I said, this isn't the best beer ever, but it is a good beer.  Pretty much everything Magic Hat puts out is good.  They do some excellent work and keep up a fun and light-hearted corporate nature.  This particular beer is a quality wheat beer.  Do you like wheat beer? If so, you'll like this one just fine.  You won't write home about it.  You won't taste the  tears of god in it.  You certainly won't need a change of pants after drinking it.  But, you'll like it just fine.

And similarly, the movie sure ain't getting a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes (it has a 44%).  The plot is half-assed and regurgitated.  Two thirds of the cast the fans wanted died before the opening credits rolled.  People keep on making fucking speeches and speeches and more goddam speeches. The only real saving grace for the cast that is in this movie is that most of them die horribly.  But, there are some decent performances.  The set design and photography is pretty good.  The whole thing would make a great Doctor Who episode (with barely any rewrites needed, just a few name changes).  Alien3, for all its many faults isn't totally without merit or entertainment value.

You know, by beer three, it's really easy to get into this flick.  I care about how viciously the xenomorph will demolish this prisoners.  And now that the company men are on scene, I want to down this beer to make sure I have a very cold, very crisp beer for when they get theirs'.  Oh, how I hope they get theirs'.

Beer says "F' yeah! Bishop!"  But, human Bishop is bad.  He's a bad bad man.  Magic Hat and Ripley don't trust human Bishop.  Aw, snap!  Human Bishop is a dirty company-man, a repulsive

hold on, need a new beer...

Anyway, he's a shit and Ripley just Terminator 2'd herself.  Perfect form too.  So, yeah... fluff Weyland/Yutani and their bio-weapons division.  And, fluff me, I drank a few beers and have to pee.

That movie mostly sucked, but the beer was mostly good.  I'm going to rename this beer Wastin' Time, because "stealin'", my ass.  This is a time wastin' beer.  I'm glad I wasted time with it, and you will be too.  Go for the 6-pack.

Texian Brewing Co., Summer Sandia Watermelon Wheat

Who can't appreciate a great bad idea?  Wouldn't it be fun to roll down this hill?  Lets challenge the cops to a drag race!  Hey everyone, I brought bath salts!  I'm-a put watermelon juice in my beer!  Delightfully wacky ideas, everyone has a great time.  I'm kidding, obviously.  Yes, try the bath salts, but keep your watermelons and beers separate.  That's just common sense.

"I'm-a put watermelon juice in my beer!"

~Someone at Texian Brewing Co.

Like most people, I spend a lot of time thinking about what I love most about beer.  Clearly, it is the essence of malted beauty.  Yeast is man's greatest domesticated pet.  Its liquid state makes it perfectly accessible via my mouth.  It unlocks bonus dance moves and gives me +2 to charisma.  And, not to be overlooked, has no fucking watermelon in it.  I'm from Texas.  I love watermelon.  Watermelon is part of the soul of summer, and so is beer.  It therefore makes sense to keep them utterly separate.  Unless, that is, you are in Richmond, Texas, where bad ideas go to for $5 handies.

Meet Texian Brewing Company's Summer Sandia Watermelon Wheat.  A seasonal offering meant to evoke the ideal drive through the Texas landscape punctuated with stops at roadside watermelon stands.  A lovely thought in honey-amber.  22 fl oz with an unstated ABV of wheat ale into which has been dumped a bucket of watermelon juice.  What assholes.

Steak and ice cream. Movies and conversation.  Naps and bonfires.  Orgasms and freshly cut grass.  Watermelon juice and wheat beer.  Not all great things go great together.

I knew this had to be terrible when I saw it on the shelf.  How could it not be?  Surely, no one would ever conceive of such a union, much less convince someone else it was a good idea.  But, like the second person to get a circumcision, people can be talked into anything.  So, there it was on the shelf, there I am looking for different and unique, and I love a great bad idea.  So, I buy it, bring it home, pour a glass, bottoms up, and down the rabbit hole we go.

It was a bad idea.  I have regrets.

I remember a time before I tasted this beer.  Back then I still thought of myself as a good person.  I was capable of acts of beauty and kindness.  I deserved the love of a good woman.  I contributed to the betterment of society.  No more.  Now I must be scum, shunned by polite society, embraced only by the skinniest of hipsters, the surliest of Australians, the most successful of bankers, and the rest of the cream of the scum soup of humanity.  But, shed no tears for me.  I strayed from the good path into the watermelon patch of shame.  

Tom Hall sang about old dogs, children, and watermelon wine.  Thank god he never had the beer.  When I am old and flatulent(er), I don't think I'll look back on this bottle with fondness and nostalgia.  Hate.  I'll look back on this bottle with white-hot hate.  I feel like something important has been stolen from me and replaced with this changeling beer.  For fuck's sake they put watermelon juice in beer!  Why would anyone be so cruel?  I bet this is what despair tastes like.

Hoping to die horribly, I tried a sip after a bit of almond biscotti.  Sadly the flavors of the beer were neither transmuted nor simply muted, and then my mortal coil failed to shuffle (merely two-stepped).  If you're wondering what this beer taste like, simply buy a delicious watermelon agua fresca, and a mid-range wheat beer, combine them 1:4, take a fistful of sleeping pills, and chug that mother down.  I'm kidding.  The real stuff doesn't have that satisfying of a finish.

None of this is a surprise to anyone.  I knew what I was getting myself into.  You read the title and made an accurate assumption.  The brewers sacrificed a two-headed goat to their cloven demi-god and got what they asked for.  

An unholy, Richmond-defining, waste of all things good in the world, including anyone who drinks it.

Grapevine Craft Brewery Monarch Classic American Wheat

I think I figured out why people drink all that swill that I refuse to touch.  Not because it is good (it isn't), not because it is unique (also a big "no"), not because they taste some mysterious quality that is hidden from me, no, they drink it because they like it.  That's it.  They just like it.  I don't like it, other people shouldn't like it, but there you go.  People like things, often for no great reason.  Even very bad things ( I'm lookin' at you, Reno, Nevada).  This week, I tried a pointless, unimpressive, and unnecessary beer.  I liked it.

Between Dallas, Fort Worth, and Denton is Grapevine Lake, and to a lesser extent, the town of Grapevine, Texas.  Just south of the southern end of the lake is Grapevine Brewery.  Based on this one beer, I have to assume that from Grapevine Brewery comes nothing of any particular note.  That's not to say I think their beers are likely bad.  Calling them "bad" would be a step too far.  My guess is that their beers don't really deserve adjectives.  Not "bad", not "good", even "mediocre" seems overly poetic and excessive.  I bet their beers mostly exist as beers.  Maybe Grapevine provided the beer in Repo Man.

If I had a blind sip of this beer, I would have assumed the type face on the can was sans serif.  But, unlike the beer inside, the can is quite surprising.  Bold yellow, red, orange, silver and blue colors make up the graphically hip art.  What should be a number of disjointed elements come together quite well, giving me something fun to look at and explore.  Part of the label even announces, "Nothin' fancy.  Just good."  True for the label.  Over-generous for the beer.

As I said, I like this beer.  I like this beer in the same way that I like a date to have two breasts. The "quality" of this beer has less to do with its own merits than on the negative aspects of similar options.  I'd choose the Monarch if the only other beers were Coors and Millers.  Between this and a Lone Star, well... then there is a question of patriotism to consider.  The Monarch may be a touch less watery than those other guys, but that's about it.  It does have a way better can though.

There are many many other beers that I prefer, so I won't be buying a cold six of Monarch for any reason I can think of.  It might make a decent bar-b-que beer, or Igloo filler.  If you are near a bucket of ice and one of these pokes it's head out at you, give it a shot.  It won't let you down, because you should have extremely low expectations.  Maybe afterwords you'll find a better beer somewhere close-by.

For those who give a shit: Monarch Classic American Wheat, from Grapevine Craft Brewery in Grapevine, Texas.  12oz can, 4.3% ABV.  Golden straw color, very mild head.  Could be confused for the Muzak version of a James Taylor song.

Save The World Agnus Dei

When presented with the opportunity, sometimes it is appropriate to Save the World.  Of course, by that, I mean drink a beer.  That's gonna be my contribution.  You're all very welcome.

Save The World Brewing Co., of Marble Falls, TX, Agnus Dei, Witbier Ale.  22 Fl. oz., 5.7% ABV.  Pale yellow and delightfully foamy.

The label: you can look at it.  Its fine.  The backstory: "agnus dei" means "the lamb of god" aaaaaaand, I don't care.  The beer: FUCKS YEAH! I mean it, plural.  I'm diggin' it.

First off, go buy this beer.  Also, drink it once you own it.  Do you like wheat beer?  Good.  Go buy this one a lot.  It has flavors, and tastes, and its pretty, and frothy-frothy, and ooooooooo...  Plus, secondly, I seriously like a solid wheatbeer, or witbeir, or whatever.  I don't care.

Some beers are like that.  Just shut-up-and-enjoy-it kind of beer.  You know what I mean?  Like a sunset or a particularly grand vista that demands you simply enjoy it.  It doesn't have to be rare or even unique, simply of a certain quality.  And, as if you hadn't guessed, this is that.  It has what you want in a wheatbeer.

Contrary to brewery belief, drinking this probably won't save the world, but can you really afford to take the chance?  Seems kind of irresponsible of you.  You will enjoy the beer, though, so, come on, tiger, let's do this.

Yeah, so seriously, go nuts.

That's it.

Les Fleurs Du Mal

Les Fleurs Du Mal (The flowers of Evil)

What a name!  And its got skulls on it, and a scribbly pen kind of text, and crappy flower drawings, and "evil"!   Ooooooh... Stick a fork in me.  Make it a pitchfork.  Taking this guy off the shelf was a no-brainer, it looks way cool.  So, who wants to try a "saur" beer?  

Les Fleurs Du Mal, from New Braunfels Brewing Company.  16.9 oz, 5.74%ABV.  Honey-straw in color with a pleasing but brief head. Hefenweizen? Saur ale?  Saur wheat ale?  I dunno, s'beer I think.

I love the name of this beer.  The design of the label is pretty kick-ass, too.  Tucked up on the left edge of the label it says, "sans cesse a mes cotes s'agite le demon" or, according to Google translate, "always by my side stirs the demon."  Then, like I said, about the skulls and inky pen letters, and half-assed flowers, it is mostly good good stuff.  Even the company logo is pretty spiffy.  But they ruin it with some bull-shit text about good and evil, and why they put lemongrass in the beer.  I read it, and now I am questioning the way I decide to spend my time.  I won't write it out, but it's crap (there is a picture at the bottom, but don't look at it).  Also, it has some weird capitalization choices going on.  I've spent some time looking at it now, and all I can see is that stupid blah-blah crap now.

For context, New Braunfels is a dull town.  Once a year they have an out-of-this-world pork chop on a stick, but the rest of the time, its is just a bathroom-stop on the way somewhere better.  So, I can understand if they were bored and thought no one would notice the vomit-stain of text on part of the label.  Still, though... what a way to ruin an otherwise terrific label.  I'm not trying to insult New Braunfelians, mind you.  Those people know they live in a shit-hole tourist trap.  Power to 'em, I say.  I'll even grant you they have some very accommodating bathrooms located right off the highway.  All the same, making poor decisions about where to live does not excuse polluting an otherwise solid beer label with that crap.  

The beer, though... the beer is surprisingly drinkable.  I'm not usually a fan of the sour beers, but kudos to those guys.  Sip one was a bit of a punch, but this stuff grows on you super quick.  It has this kind of floral sweet/tart thing going.  There is very little of what I usually go for in a beer to be found in this bottle, but, damn, I really like it.  It isn't so much a contemplative beer as it is a fantastic beer for just tasting.  It makes you want to be a snotty-snot and start talking about hints of this and notes of that.  I'm feeling excited to get to glass 2, and I can't even blame the wimpy ABV.  Still, as much as I am enjoying this, I think I might enjoy it more if I was illiterate.  I really hate that stupid text block.  I should keep drinking and see what happens.

Glass 2 and the snotty-snot tasting time.  First the smells: a big sour tinge, just after the sour comes a mildly floral balsamic vinegar, then a bit of that lemongrass they ham-fistedly mentioned.  Now the taste: cool and tingly bubbles become dried apricots and sour cherry, then a wave of vinegar, all while honey sits Fonzie-esque in the back and just hints at its presence.  All of this happens in a field of summer wild flowers while eating a caprese salad.  I know that right now, you and I both kind of want to punch me in the face for saying that, but try the beer.  It could make a lousy poet out of anyone.  The overall effect of a sip of this beer is an electrical storm on a sunny day.  Maybe that is why they throw out all this "evil" and flowers with skulls.  It makes a kind of sense.

I gave this brewery a lot of crap about their label and about being from New Braunfels, but, to be fair, they deserved it.  However, they have made a really good beer.  It is a saur that I could drink a six pack of (if it comes in six packs).  The last time I had a saur beer I would have liked to kill it with fire, also the saur before that, and the one before that too.  Me and this beer, thought, we're friends.  Despite our many faults we like each other and get along great.  Way to brew New Braunfels!  I wonder if they would let me visit the brewery?  I bet their bathroom is great.

Bastogne La Truffette Belledete

"Ew."

This week I am joined by my friend and beer brewing partner, Omar (Omargeddon on G+ and facesbook). We are drinking a bottle we found that looked to have a lot of potential, but ended up simply begging the question: does being a summer wheat beer excuse an un-enjoyable taste if imbibed in winter?  And, I'm with Omar on this one when I say "no".  No sir, I don't like it.

-Swish, swirl, stare, sip, ponder, say, "I think this horse was diabetic."

                                      -A Witty Person

-It's like concentrated Miller Lite-

                                      -Omar

Bastogne La Trouffetee Belle d'ete, a summer wheat with coriander and orange peel.  Brewed at Brasserie de Bastogne, Belgium. 1pint, 9.4 oz, 5.7% ABV. Golden amber with a modest head.

The label is pleasing and features an ugly wood-block boar, evocative of Asian shadow puppets. Why?  Because Belgium, that's why.   The whole look is fun, but not special.  In a bold move  the label offers the e-mail address, info@brasseriedebastogne.be, so, if you have questions (or dick-pics) have fun with that.  Perhaps they would like to see your bottle and cork?

Our opinion is that this beer is crap.  I mean that nicely.  Nice, nice, crap.  Don't drink it.  It's probably low-carb.  Who knows, this swill might be organic or some shit.  At first sip, there is bitterness and a sharp chill.  The advertised coriander and orange peel make themselves known, followed by... disappointment.  Do you remember in that one episode of Better Off Ted, when they have the guy taste testing the lab-grown meat, and they ask him what it tastes like?  He responds, "...despair?"  I'm not saying this beer tastes like despair.  I'm saying Omar nailed it with concentrated Miller Lite.  

The taste break-down... well, I don't care.  It is gross and I don't want to think about it.  I'm sure there are many many good and honest people who might drink this and enjoy it whole-heartedly.  But, that ain't me.  And it ain't Omar.  So, to all those people: good news, you can have mine.

Should you find yourself in a back-alley drinking contest against the Germans, and it all comes down to this final chug, feel free to forget to spin the boot.  Yes, you will lose and be lame forever, but at least you won't have to finish a glass of this shit.