A fitting day: I watched broadcasts from St. Paul during the day and tried the Convention Ale at night. Drinkable, with just enough bite to keep it interesting. My wife put it best I think “Kind of like [candidate name excluded]. Good. Pretty non-offensive, but there’s something better”
And as a testament to my steel trap of a mind – I was about an hour past finished with the bottle when I finally got the play on words in the name (conventional/ale)
I was suprised at how bubbly and light in color this was. I had expected something closer to…i don’t know…all the other barley wines I’ve had which have been dark in color and not flat but definitely not lighty and airy. The flavor was not hoppy in the least, but it was sweet and drinkable. I thought about doing a running timeline of how the 22 oz of 9% ABV affected my ability to play WarioWare: Smooth Moves on a Wii. Though I didn’t write it down, I can tell you my play was unaffected.
In his explanation for going with the 22oz bottles, Jeff from Flat Earth stated something to the effect of “if you’re going to indulge in a beer, indulge.” Not an exact quote, but I agreed with what he said. The Belgian Pale Ale was just right in the big bottle. Not too pungent or syrupy to get sick of after a few sips. Refreshing with a sweet, hinting at fruity, tatse. A solid alternative to more hoppy beers – if that’s your taste. I, personally, am not terribly descriminate.
Either my hand shrunk or this beer was built for a giant. Imagine how heavy a 12 pack of these jugs would be. The gigantic bottle provides a nice oversized canvas for the exceptionally tasty Flat Earth Brewing Co. logo and graphics. I read somewhere that the guy in the blue suit is Geddy Lee’s step dad who accidentally discovered the Cygnus X-1 black hole with a pair of ill focused binoculars. Clearly he is a happy man, proudly gazing thirstily at his beer mug, oblivious to the fact that he is about to be swallowed by a swirling pastel vortex.
The beer is delicious in moderation.
Is that a Chank font?
If I were a storyteller:
I would tell about the time I tried Cygnus X-1 and in a flash of light was whisked away to the farthest reaches of space in a giant bass guitar-shaped spaceship with a picture of menacing white owl on it. Then I would tell everyone I knew about what I saw: galaxies and worlds beyond our own, populated by beings who communicate in a language we can only understand if we drink strong, but not lingering porters that are surprisingly refreshing and come in 22 ounce bottles (and sometimes brandy snifters) and, of course, if we fly by night.
But that’s if I could really tell a story. I don’t think I’m very good, so forget it. It’s not important.