CSotD: Tiny bubbles
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I don't pretend to uphold any higher standard here than whatever amuses me on a given day. This Monty hits me about six hours after an 800-mile drive back from a family reunion in Ohio where I got to try some of the beer my younger son has just started brewing recently (his older brother having been making his own for several years now).
There were a couple of choices. I tried an Irish red beer that tasted very mellow but then seemed to turn my knees into Jell-O. I was surprised, because my experience with the high-octane Quebec brews is that the alcohol gives them a sharp finish that I don't really care for.
I also don't like doing a face plant after one beer. Tends to scratch up the specs.
This had none of that boilermaker edge, so I asked my son what the alcohol content of this smooth brew was, and he began to explain how they started to make it with an extract but then decided to use grains but then added both, plus more grain than needed and I didn't understand what he said. Which may have been the effect of the beer.
But he had started with, "Yeah, it does have quite a kick," confirming that it was indeed the beer and not just the Midwestern heat-and-humidity cocktail, which I have avoided for years since it tends to knock me down and fog my brain.
The combination made for a pretty interesting evening.
I would note there that my generation has pretty much fouled up the American tradition of leaving our children a better world than we came into. On the other hand, we seem to have left them a world where the beer is a whole lot better, whether they buy it or make their own.
Makes me proud on so many levels!
(For anyone who didn't recognize the reference in today's headline, here's a video showing that getting loaded isn't just for our adult children.)
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