Buffalo Bayou Brewing Co., 1836 A Copper Ale

"If you have to ask what 1836 stands for, please put down this beer and leave our country."

This Houstonian beer has a request.  You probably read what that request is.  I wrote it down, in bold and italics, centered, as the first line of this week's beer blog.  It's right up there at the top.  Go read it again.

So, what does 1836 stand for?  If you aren't sure, don't know, or know exactly what the fuck it stands for, then you are probably right.  I looked it up*.  Let me just say this: whatever you think or don't know at all, more than one thing happened that year.

I'll go into details at the end of the blog, but first, let's all raise a glass to the hopes of one day razing Houston (the city that shares a slogan with Bruges) to the ground.  If you toasted that disgusting swamp with this 1836, then you already know that you are holding 12oz of 5.7% ABV of "handcrafted" (whatever that means) ale from the good people at Buffalo Bayou Brewing Co.  And you also know that it isn't half bad.

This is a very clean beer.  While mostly balanced, and certainly with a solid malty chewiness, the flavor finishes towards a slightly citrus-y and mildly bitter hoppiness.  There are no frills, no bells or whistles.  Excitement and exceptionalism aren't the point of this beer.  This a beer for a beer drinker, and the aficionados can go to hell.  I'd drink this in a bar with my friends, and I'd be having a good time doing it.

One glass in, and no signs of slowing down.  I was worried the malt might get heavy, or the hop finish might turn my sour stomach, but, no.  I think I need a six of this in the fridge.  I'm glad that I'm drinking this Hoth-cold.  It seems right.  I don't think this a beer that would still work as it warms up.

Hey!  Ben Mallott's Shotgun Suzy just came on, and it might be just the perfect pace and tone to fully enjoy the 1836.  Go find it**, crack a can, pour, sit, sip, and listen.  I think you'll agree that your life is now a slight, but important bit better.  See if your local beer DJ can't hook you up.

But, back to the elephant on the label: 1836.  Did you think of the Alamo?  How about Texas independence from Mexico (because fuck you, Mexico, with your sovereignty and slaveless-ness)?  Did you perhaps conjure images of Charles Darwin and the Beagle returning to Englad?  Well, I don't know what this can was thinking specifically, but it has an old-time-y looking map and a fringed-sleeved arm lofting a rifle, so probably either the Alamo or Texas independence.  For the sake of shitting in Buffalo Bayou's breakfast cereal (for the crime of lacking specificity), here is a short list of some of the notable events of 1836:

Jan 5th - Davy Crockett arrives in Texas, just in time for the Alamo
Feb 23rd - Alamo besieged for 13 days until 6th March by Mexican army under General Santa Anna; entire garrison eventually killed
Feb 25th - Samuel Colt patents 1st revolving barrel multishot firearm
Mar 2nd - Republic of Texas declares independence from Mexico in Columbia
Mar 5th - Samuel Colt manufactures 1st pistol, 34-caliber "Texas" model
Mar 6th - Battle of the Alamo: after 13 days of fighting 1,500-3,000 Mexicans overwhelm the Texans at the Alamo, killing 182-257 Texans including William Travis, Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett
Mar 16th - Texas approves a constitution
Mar 17th - Texas abolishes slavery
Apr 14th - Congress forms Territory of Wisconsin
Apr 20th - Territory of Wisconsin created
Apr 21st - Battle of San Jacinto, in which Texas wins independence from Mexico
Jun 15th - Arkansas becomes 25th state of the Union
Jul 4th - Wisconsin Territory forms
Aug 30th - The city of Houston is founded by Augustus Chapman Allen and John Kirby Allen
Sep 5th - Sam Houston elected president of Republic of Texas
Oct 2nd - Darwin returns to England aboard HMS Beagle (after 5 years)
Oct 22nd - Sam Houston inaugurated as 1st elected pres of Republic of Texas
Dec 7th - Martin Van Buren elected 8th president
Dec 14th - The Toledo War unofficially ends.
Dec 28th - Spain recognizes independence of Mexico
Dec 30th - Lehman Theater in St Petersburg catches fire; 100s die

Did you guess right?  Do you have to put down your beer and leave the country?  Either way, Houston sucks and you don't have to do anything they tell you to.  But do try the beer because I tell you to.  S'good beer.

*Googled it

**https://youtu.be/h1JMp0_Yjvs This is not the best recording, so go buy the album you pirate!

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.

Saint Arnold Brewing Co., Icon Amarillo Hefe

Hey! You want a nice clean and pleasant beer?  Then go grab the hell out of this Icon Amarillo Hefe.  It's like drinking a beer flavored air conditioner, and who hasn't dreamed of doing that?

This bottle of cool beauty has a number of things going for it.  First off, the label is slick as shit.  Matte black with green foil, damn.  Secondly, there is some stupid shit printed on the under-side of the cap.  I think it said, "What's cooking?" or "What's brewing?" or some dumb shit, but, still, it's fun to find a little bottle cap note.  Third, it tastes great.  It was more fun to drink it out of a glass but the same taste-joy can be achieved straight from the bottle (if pretentiousness isn't your thing).  Finally, and this is in many ways a generic claim, if you say "Diet" before "Amarillo Hefe" is has fewer calories.  That last one is a lie, but it is totally true.  I'm digging this beer.

Seriously.  Look at that beautiful bottle.  So dark, so mysterious, so full of promise.  Often a good looking bottle is just a last ditch effort to make a bad beer more marketable (I'm looking at you, Shiner Blonde).  But they just did this beer up proper, soup to nuts.

It has this rich malty flavor, with a nice chewiness, without being overly heavy, and maintaining a light but layered flavor.  It smells a bit like summer, but the hops just sings harmony.  It's like they wanted to step back from the trend of going balls-out in one direction or the other, malty or hoppy, and really put in the effort to make a balanced beer, a good beer.  Who knew Houston could produce anything but horrible shit?

Houston, which has taken to much precious from us all and returned nothing but filth and hate, has finally produced something the rest of the world can approve of, or, dare I say, can even like.  All it took to begin to redeem Houston was Amarillo.

Drink the beer.  You'll enjoy it.  Or, if you don't enjoy it, you are un-American, and the ghost of Senator McCarthy will wait for you under your bed.

No Label Brewing Co., Forbidden Lavender

Ain't it cute when the Grim Reaper sneaks some plants into your beer?  That is the surface of the question posed by the label art on this interesting bottle from No Label Brewing Co. in Katy, TX.  I'll gloss over the part where there clearly is a label, and just point out what seems very odd about it.


You can see at first glance, it's not so bad.  Actually, it's sort of a pleasant label, good fonts, nice pleasing colors, mostly legible.  It has a femininity to the art and an overall curious appeal.  So, you buy it, take it home, chill it, and eventually pour yourself a glass.  But while you're pouring this refreshing beverage, you give the bottle a little twist.  The lines draw your eye to the right, following that strange curve to its terminus.  And then what the fluffy hell are you looking at?  It's the goddam Grim Reaper seemingly stuffing flowers in your beer.  Or is it?  Scratch that surface even a tiny bit, and what you've got there is a picture of the Grim Reaper stroking his bone and jizzing all over the name of the beer.

Go look for yourself.  I'll wait.

You see that shit?  What the hell, No Label Brewing Co.?  Was this lable worth abandoning what is clearly the basic conceit of your brewery?

And look at that smirk on Grimmy... He knows.  He knows you're looking.  He knows what you see.  And he loves it.  Now that he caught you staring, he's going to "finish the whole bottle," if you get my meaning.  What a perv.

Surprisingly, the Jizz Beer of Death is pretty good.  Maybe long-holing those stems is a great way to pack some flavor into a beer.  The methods are clearly questionable, but the results are great.

The label describes it as a "wit style ale brewed with lavender," which doesn't really describe what's going on here, flavor-wise.  The fist thing to hit you is the smell, light, but defined lavender (slightly on the soapy side).  Next the flavors of sweet malt, herb-y lavender, and maybe even a bit earthy on the finish all float across the palate on little happy bubbles.  It's good.  I like it.  Be warned, though: this is definitely a chick beer.  This is even more of a chick beer than Dos Equis, which is the very definition of a chick beer.

My plan is to one day buy another bottle of this Forbidden Lavender, chill it good and cold in the far-far-Narnia-back of the fridge where no one will ever see it, turn out all the lights, and pour my beer into my chilled glass under cover of darkness, sneak into my waiting pillow fort and enjoy another one of these beer as quietly as possible.  You can join me, if you don't tell nobody, OK.

Monchshof Kellerbier

If there is one thing that understands me, it is German lagers.  Which is good, 'cause I sure as hell don't understand them.  I mean, what the fluff does "Kellerbier" even mean?  Does anyone even know?  It's just a random collection of letters, like "Monchshof" and "German."  One thing I do know about German lagers is this: I like 'em.  They taste like good beer.  If I had to die tomorrow I'd want to go out drinking German Lagers, rolling nude in my Skittles pool, spoiled nasty from a lifetime of riches and excess, and surrounded by my spurned and disowned loved ones.

Did you know that the Germans are legally barred from putting any weird shit in their beer?  It's true.  I read about it on the interwebs (those things you are on now)!  The Germans, I believe, hate both weird (non-sex related) shit and bad beers, and I show my approval by drinking their good beers to excess.

Monchshof Kellerbier, from Kulmbacher Brauerei,  is some tasty (non-sex related) beer.  There is a malty perfection, and smoothness of smokey beer liquid in my face.  It has a good body and nice legs.  Not so much by way of tits.  Two out of three, though...  Yup, good beer.

I'd like to wax poetic and ramble on about it if I wasn't so busy drinking.  So, clearly, good beer.  Drink this beer.

The Wild Beer Co., Somerset Saison

My beer, it's looking at you.  My beer is angry with you.  Look at those beerfull eyes, feel the heat.  The label says, "Crisp + Zesty + Spicy," but those eye say something far more menacing.  They say, "Woodland hate."

Somerset Saison, no more.  I rename this beer Woodland Hate, and you are only allowed to drink it after you win a staring contest with it.  Let me tell you a story.

Passing through the aisles at my local, my mind roaming innocently, I felt an intense burning on the back of my neck.  It was just as if some demon's cloven claw-fang snagged on my soul and killed everything I ever loved.  I turned and bravely met the cold gaze of my spiritual assassin.  The hart and I were locked in combat, our wills pressing at the boundaries of each other existence.  BANG!  My hand, faster than reflection, peeled through the onion skins of time and experience, to wrap itself around the beast's neck.  Freed from the ice cave that gave it power and persistence, we fought to the death, and victory was mine.  I possessed my demon and brought it home.

The hart of the Woodland Hate bubbled and foamed an anger that lasted.  Its golden pelt settled into the cage I made for it.  Then I consumed it.  It tasted wild at first, sour, but when we understood each other the rage died as quickly as it had first frothed over.  I was left bitter.  Maybe the disappointment I felt was the curse those eyes whispered to me when I first walked past.

Basically, this beer is jut OK, if you like saisons.  There is also a cool illustration on the label.

NBBCo Mexican Cannon

I smell like bug spray, sweat, and sunshine.  The temperature is a brisk 91. I've got a special Mariachi Puro radio playlist on the speakers.  The lawn is mowed, and it is time for the second installment of post lawn mowing beer reviews.

In honor of Omar's love of Texas history, his current absence from the city, and how he can't drink booze while he's on some meds, I have chosen New Braunfels Brewing Co.'s Mexico Cannon, a "hand made wheat ale."  It was brewed in honor of a cannon given to the colony of Gonzales blah, blah, blah, some other stuff, blah... beer.  Omar does that history shit.  I focus on drinking beer.

I've set the scene for you, so now I take a sip, aaannnnnd... this beer is horrible.  It sucks on a Dyson cyclone technology level.

Have you ever received a present that looks super cool in the wrapping, but when you open it, is really just a punch in the balls?  It is an overrated experience, and best avoided.  But if you're looking for the thrill, this beer is for you.

The label talks about a "briskly sour [taste] with a puckeringly salty lime punch [in the balls]."  It tastes like I dropped my rancid margarita in the gulf, tried to scoop it back into my glass, then took leave of my reason and drank it.  When I read the label at the shop, I thought it could be good.  I still think the idea is sound, but holy hell, this is aweful.  This beer has tainted my post-mow beer ritual.

A part of life's beauty is now dead.

On principle, I'm going to finish this wretched bottle of salty malted shit.  Afterwords, I'll probably have to blow a ship-full of sailors just to get this horrible taste out of my mouth.  I like to think the worst that can happen if I try a bad beer is that I have a beer, which ain't so bad.  After this bad beer, however, I will have to re-mow my lawn just so I can drink a decent post-mow beer.  That may seem extreme, but this beer is seriously terrible.  Now I have to get the lawn mower back out and hope to hell that I have a modelo in the fridge.