Fish Brewing 10² Anniversary Ale
Sometimes, when you are a cornsnake during the month of February, a process called brumation affects your body. You coil your legless cord of skin around the warmest object nearest you and sleep incessantly. Less studious reptilian experts call this phenomenon “hibernation”. What is should be called is: just plain lazy.
When El Niño relents to traditional weather patterns and you long for warmer wetness, forage through the beery woods of your local grocery for this fine ale of Olympia origin. Be sure to bring along your favorite gay Canadian/violinist, Owen Pallett, to provide musical distraction—this hunt will be long and tedious.
When you finally arrive at your liquid destination, rejoice and erupt with excessive amounts of hissing. You are bucking the trend of your species. It’s only a short deviation from your brumation but the highlights of your drinking vacation will tally up IBU after IBU as well as gorgeous dollops of alocohol. Intestinal fortitude is required during your succulent winter consumption so gnaw on the finest buffalo chicken or andouille meats and you’ll survive until the spring.
There’s nothing overtly reptilian about his high-powered ale. But it is a rollicking adventure of delicious proportions that’s unavoidable as the cornsnake’s genetic conservation of energy.
-Pedro Wooly
- 2 years ago
Apparently, the recipe for a decent night’s sleep and a healthy start to your day follows this equation: 1 baguette + 1 bottle of Olde Gnarlywine. Recipes aside, welcome in the new year properly with a shiny new bottle of this sinewy, syrupy liquidity.
Nothing’s sweeter than winning a soccer match by the slimmest of margins. Especially when the strikers’ self-congratulatory groans and grunts echo into the night and against your seething eardrums. Well, I suppose you could equate this drink to the gut-wrenching happiness of that victory over those selfish bastards.
Be sure to chomp on a wholesome, seeded baguette while you imbibe. Because that blurry, warm sensation in yer tum tum is an alcohol induced rumble worthy of going magma-2-magma with the 1700 Cascadia Earthquake. Don’t try digging in to yer spleen, liver and other internal organs—yer going to feel like a lighthouse in a fog bank for a couple hours.
Settle down for a minute and contemplate what wonderful things you’ve done to yer body with this magnificent ale. You’ll be prouder than a Father on Father’s Day in the Fatherland.
-Pedro Wooly
- 2 years ago
- 1
Dagger teeth form on the insides of yer skull as you get older. So maniacal and pompous dentists say. To speed up this regression to a Cretaceous dental heritage, consider this aggressively ancestral brew.
Like a wasp behind yer teeth, this demon-dark beer stings the first thing in its path: the tip of yer tongue. There’s an angry amount of alcohol inside the bottle and it’s rather cross that you didn’t age this bitch 4 years longer. Survive the onslaught of flavor across the bow of yer dainty palate and you’ll have some pleasant liquid islands of tranquility to pillage and savour.
In a David Lynchian vein, drinking this ale manages to frighten and humour you. Imagine consuming the creature, Bob, from Twin Peaks. Lynch created an atmosphere of terror around him but Bob remains hopelessly white-trash and richly hilarious with his mullet and jean jacket. And chocolatey. Use yer Dale Cooper powers of intuition and conjure up some Himalayan gods to guide you, Bob, and that jailbait babe Audrey on a booze-flooded vision quest into yer liver. Only good things will come of this.
This bottle has the night-ending potential if used unwisely. Or consumed in tandem with it’s brethren of high-alcohol coffee stouts. But sturdy your light heart and forge into the belly of this beast, hook its thorny appendix and gorge yer now razor jaws on the nectar of its primordial bile.
- 2 years ago
