Rome. Athens. Troy.
Places of identity in a sea of time. Icon against which we judge all things that come afterward. This brew sits like Independence Rock on the Oregon Trail; a Golden Hoppy Spire piercing the beerscape as a tower for all other IPAs to gaze upon as a sort of living artefact in the foamy timeline of beerstory.
But, don’t be quick to overestimate the influence of a singular libation, mon frayr.
In the way two mountain lakes can appear frightfully similar, this ale bares resemblance to many other IPAs. Each tiny avalanche (brewer) that crashes into the frozen rocky scree imparts a tiny dose of personality (hops/malts/alcohol) into the valley (beer/glass). But atop a shitpile of ambiguously downed old-growth trunks (barstool) and from across the the water, uniqueness is all a beautiful and dramatic wash (BURP).
There are beers you’ll end up consuming after dragging yer straggly legs across the street from the lake’s trailhead to the local watering hole. Recognize yer longing for the Bayr Republik and thoughts of craft beer but let that feeling totally escape you. Kill some pitchers of swill with the locals and remind yerself how simple and plain the experience of drinking beers can be. Then, come back to the Racer 5 and lose yerself its elegant simultaneity: individuality and ambiguity.
-Pedro Wooly
- 2 years ago
