When yer feeling you ought to be somewhere yer not: a fruity sessions beer that hearkens years of yoar…
The Oarsman has a surprising panache of saison and pale ale tones that will leave you wanting more with each of his strokes. Whilst you may have pointed yer hull in search of that super harvest moon on the equinox, the clouds left you with a lightning display and an eerie, orangey moon surging through the stormfront. Yonder to the north, yer eyes are caught at the horizon that’s growing rough.
Best not to indulge too long, lest you’d prefer yerself on top of yer upside down dory.
So turn yer bow from the wind and let the oars free as you calmly surf back into shore. Another night will be better suited for the harvest. Hang on to the refreshing, summery splash of the Oarsman Ale and settle into yer chair knowing that yer plans only have to wait till the storm passes.
-Admiral Specific
- 1 year ago
The Goose Island Night Stalker will surmount an unsuspecting burning river chemical blitz via the Chicago Bears linebackers. Speaking of Chicago, I wonder what Sundeep is doing right now.
Ah, Moonshallow. The true Night Stalker, himself. Disguised as a ninja (though he may actually be a ninja - they don’t tend to reveal themselves), this Indian goose will whoop yer ass, but only if you deserve it. He is a most friendly India-Indian man, observant of justice and rightful rightings. Except for when yer in the wrong. Then, watch out!
Unlike the ninjas of Seattle, who impale themselves upon fences, a Chicago Night Stalker is smooth and stealthy, lulling you into comfort and safety with a talking-to-his-mother voice. Of course, those in the know will have prepared yourselves and will subsequently counter his attacks with kittens, samurai stories, and homoerotic entendres to wane the waxed warrior.
So ne’er leave yer eye from the India-Indian, as ye have been warned. Beware the Night Stalker.
-Admiral Specific
- 1 year ago
Fremont Brewing’s Universale Pale Ale
This is a beer of subtleties, suited to be consumed on second dates with the girl you just fell in love with who lives 3,000 miles away on the opposite coast. The awkwardness of the first date is gone and the comfortable tones are readily apparent, signaling that this girl is here to stay for a long time… granted, the Atlantic seaboard is not exactly “here.” So when you walk into that biker bar - the leather kind, not one of those hot-shit hipster biker bars you expect in Seattle - where all the regulars turn to size you up only to see yer sporting a cardigan with a sea green collared shirt, take advantage of the fact that yer with one of the locals and befriend yer bartender. And when he asks if you’d like another pint, ask him what he recommends and he just might point you to the Universale Pale. Thanks, Seamus from Howth.
And - as with yer ventures with the new lady-friend - what a refreshing moment!
This beer has the perfect balance of flavor, body, and hoppiness, that simply makes you wish for six of them at once. Four stars out of Favre… er, excuse me… four, on every one of them. To the untrained mouth, one might think this beer just is what it is at face value. But there’s more that only comes out if yer the guy she wants to reveal herself to. Seriously. Subtleties. Like when yer walking under 520 by the Montlake Playfield and catch some movement out of the corner of yer eye in the marsh. And you realize that yer eyes are fixed on a Favre (4) foot tall great blue heron who’s also wondering if you are what he thinks you are.
“Is that mint at the end of it?”“What? No… pour a bit in there for me, will ya? Just a wee bit… Aye, good palette.”
Thanks again, Seamus.
-The Admiral
- 2 years ago
