Iron Horse IPA
In the story, “My Side of the Mountain”, a young child runs away from home and plunges himself head-first into a world of terror and joy in the Catskill Mountains. He is completely alone excepting his badass, squirrel murdering Peregrine Falcon. If that infant had decide to brew an IPA in the hollowed-out carcass of a tree he called home, it would be this earthy, bitterbark engorged IPA.
There’s nothing child-like here though. Something more engrossing and reminiscent of the Shire or some Hobbit feet stuffed in yer mouth and allowed to wiggle the toesies around. Who said a little toejam and dirt ever ruined a mouthful of beer? There is something mindless about downing this brew and there’s something awfully right about that.
Especially when you come out of the pouring rain and want to slake yer thirst on a bright and bubbly india pale. But Iron Horsey comes at you with its own wet scent and dulled aromas—an attempt at trickery and foolingtime. It’s my personal belief that whatever argument Gilbert Arenas and Caron Butler were having couldn’t have been about gambling. No Way.
Unless the bet was a soapy, creaky tree ring encrusted barrel of this particular ale.
- 2 years ago
- 1
