It was literally, quite literally, solid foam head, all the way to the bottom of the glass.  Close to a pint in volume, 100% head, with nary a puddle of liquid beer at the bottom.  I had done it — I had produced a glass of beer purely in the gaseous state of matter.  This might have been the very worst job of pouring a pint of beer ever, in the history of beverages.  I defy any of you to accomplish this with any other carbonated beverage.

I should mention that this is a highly-acclaimed brew, one of those award-winning stars of the beer world that I have no business rating.  And it was a very good beer, 45 minutes later when we finally got some liquid condense out of the fog.  Very fruity, dark and sweet, practically a meal in itself.  Pretty strong too — our variations on the name “Gulden Draak” were heeee-larious by the end.  I highly recommend it, the most delicious, aromatic quick-expanding foam insulation I’ve ever tasted.

Like the Jeremiah Weed’s fine beverages, this brew is sweeter than cherry Power-Ade, has double the alcohol than yer typical Budweiser, yet is stealthily marketed enough so your buddies won’t realize you’re getting efficiently drunk on something close to a milkshake.  Not that I am one to ridicule — there is certainly a time and place for such a brew, but for me that time was about 1.5 decades ago.  At this point, my refined palate reaches the same state near the end of this beer as when I eat too many skittles.  All in all, it’s not bad, certainly worth considering for dessert, but I’m going to be hunting for some savory beers next time around — does anyone make a roast pork lager?

So now that I’ve established my lack of qualifications to judge La Fin Du Monde, let’s get on to the review.  Tang-errific!  This is an intensely fruity beer — the tang packs a wallop right off the start, yet is really tasty.  Quite surprising with the first sip (woke me right up, I tell you what) but hard to put down once you get a few gulps.  I can see why it’s one of those buzz-worthy award winning beers, though I also think I’ve gotten my dose of vitamin C for the rest of my life.

And try I had to. Apart from Belmont Station and presumably the brewery itself, I couldn’t find it anywhere. So after a trip to the previously mentioned Belmont, I returned home and did the most regretable thing I could have. I tasted it.

Ugh. I didn’t want to be right about my suspicions, but I played a perfect Sherlock on this one. In what has been a steady decline in greatness since then first Stumptown Tart, this year’s (and I’ll bet final) rendition is just not good. Not at all. Not even a little. It’s just ….blech. Barely fruity, barely decent ale flavor. For the first time in four years, I poured a Stumptown Tart down the sink. You can blame the strawberry inclusion if you want (there are almost no decent strawberry beers), but I think it’s just a case of it being time to put the idea out to pasture. ST One was amazing. But like so many ham fisted attempts at cashing in on sequels (cough…Matrix…cough…Star Wars), this beer was phoned in, and it’ll take many more bottles of something good before the travesty is wiped from my memory.

Samuel Smith’s Organic Strawberry Fruit Ale (0/6)
Don’t drink this. Its terrible in a way that only bad fruit ale can be. Rancid sharp strawberry flavor, in otherwise fine ale. Admittedly, I didn’t expect it to be any good, but even I was surprised just how little I was able to drink before I had to pour it out.

Red Hook 8-4-1 Expedition Ale (1/6)
Your mileage may vary on this one, but I just didn’t like it. There was something about it that didn’t jive with my taste buds, and I was generally unhappy with the results. It’s not terrible, rather just the epitome of “That boy ain’t right”.

Full Sail LTD 02 (4/6)
Yay LTD! I just love this stuff. It’s on the maltier end of the Easy Drinkin’ spectrum, but it definitely qualifies as a cooler filler if the occasion arises.

Bridgeport Blue Heron Pale Ale (4/6)
Up to this point, Bridgeport’s Haymaker was holding the crown as one of my favorite Easy Drinkin’ beers. But now that I have had this, I think Bridgeport may have unseated itself. It’ll be perfect for the July 4th BBQ, when you force those family members who drink Budweiser products (…sorry I just threw up a little in my mouth…) to drink quality beer. Easy, non-offensive, tasty.

Great Divide Collette Farmhouse Ale (5/6)
I like Farmhouse Ales, but usually just for tasting. They tend to be a bit strong for a six pack or even a full 22. Collette, however, is an exception. This ale is great. And, although being farmhouse tasty (mmm…farm taste), its mellow enough to be had regularly. Or in large quantities *drunken stumble*

Widmer Sunburn Ale (2/6)
The blogosphere gave this beer a lot of happy thoughts recently, but I just didn’t see why. Widmer has decided to use some new “Citra-hop” variety of hops, which although novel, is super distracting to the taste. Its like beer flavored orange juice. Not a fan.

Dick’s Pale Ale (2/6)
Despite promising to do a huge run of Dick’s posts, I purposefully didn’t mention this one. Not because it’s bad, but just because it practically non-existent. It takes Pale to a new level by being the taste equivalent to translucence (see I know big words!).

Jonathan Edwards “Lost Finale” Lager (4/6)
I round out this blast of posts with a nod to our favorite local homebrewer Jonathan Edwards. Recently, he dropped this German Lager down on my desk, and I can happily say it was yet another notch in his impressive homebrew collection. Its crisp yummy taste helped drown out the sorrows of watching the Lost Finale. And made me buzzed enough to not care about the cheesy cork in the island scene. Prost!

– This is a beer called “Beer From Mars”, and has a picture of Mars on the label.

– Despite being from Mars, the name is in French.

– Comes in a big fat bottle with a champagne-style cork.

– Prominently mentions that its brewed with Brettanomyces Bruxellensis, a wild yeast that creates more sediment than I’ve had in a beer since I accidentally (on purpose) dropped an onion ring into my Pabst.

– Brewed by the Ommegang Brewery, who also brew “Ommegeddon”.

Clearly, this is a beer in need of a hook.  Too subtle!  No personality!  Wait, no, I got that wrong — this is a beer that needs about three less hooks.  “Beer from Mars”?  OK, you got me, I’m a science nerd and I pretty much have no choice but to try it.  But why is it in French?  Here’s my guess:  wild mutant yeast, concocted in a clandestine baguette / beret laboratory in Paris, achieves sentience and immediately set about pursuing a space program.  Thwarted at every turn by lack of reliable second stage boosters and opposable thumbs for golfing on the moon, the Brettanomyces colony forms a thick sludge at the bottom of a bottle, which I then purchase and drink.  Yeah, that sounds about right.

Thankfully, the flavor is quite subtle and understated, a soothing contrast to the jarring thematic juxtapositions on the label.  Nooo, not really!  It’s good, but it’s a big bold mess,  just as WTF-y as the outside.  (It’s a word now.  Rhymes with “swifty”.  So there.)   Really flavorful, very tart, almost like you did a tequila-like ritual involving a shot of beer, a bite of lemon wedge, and a lick of Greek yogurt off your hand.  (Regretting that image.  Much happier about bringing “WTF-y” into the world than that yogurt metaphor abomination.)  It’s very tart, fruity, all-around really bold zesty beer.  This is apparently a result of the wild yeast, which (according to the label) “imparts added tartness, extra zing, and a touch of funk”.  I thought I tasted some Rick James…   Anyway, I do recommend this beer, though it ain’t for sipping in quiet contemplation by the fire.  This beer is best paired with any type of food that requires you clean your fingers with a wet-nap afterward, and best enjoyed while listening to loud live music, preferably a band named “A Touch of Funk”.  Except in French.

The original marionberry Stumptown Tart set a new standard for fruit/beer integration. In addition to being wildly delicious, it was a great “ale” flavor that used the flavors of the marionberry without being too overboard. When the second ST came out, it was a Cherry Wheat. This time, the cherry played a more prominent role, since the wheat element of the beer made for a much lighter beer flavor. This time around, however, good ol’ Stumptown Tart has gone all in with Oregon red raspberry. Or rather, OMG ITS RASPBERRY!!!!

On first pour, the raspberry makes its presence known with a real strong “fresh raspberry” smell. And the first sip? RASPBERRY! This beer has the distinction of being one of the first beers I’ve had that tastes exactly like it smells. Sweet, sweet, alcoholic raspberry. Not the lame “raspberry flavor” you are used to mind you, or even raspberries you may buy at a local Big-E-Mart. This is earthy, fresh, real raspberry flavor, and it’s fantastic.

Now you may have noticed that I haven’t mentioned the beer aspect of this. There’s a reason for that. In what seems like a trend, this year’s ST has even less “beer-y” flavor than the year before. Although it’s made with a Belgian Tripel, they advertise it as a “Framboise”, which in my book defines itself as “Really F-ing Alcoholic Fruit Juice”. And boy is it. In an article on Wikipedia, they make mention that “Framboise is usually served in a small glass that resembles a champagne glass, only shorter”. Stumptown? Nah, that comes in a 22oz. So at 7.7% ABV, you can imagine how high I was flying when I finished my bottle. Just a word of warning.

I now realize that I’ve made in pretty far into the column without ever mentioning if it was any good. For that, I apologize, because it was really good. Crisp, light, refreshing, and wickedly fruity. I imagine it might mellow with age, but for now, drinking it immediately makes me wish to be outside on a warm summer day, instead of watching the rain and hail abuse my patio cover. This beer is perfect for those occasions when you are outside goofing with friends, burning steaks on the grill, and setting your neighbors bushes on fire with a stray bottle rocket. I highly recommend stocking the July 4th BBQ cooler with several of these refreshing beauties. Just be careful not to think that the fun fruit flavor is a tame one. Prost!

But let’s begin. Let me introduce today’s entry. This is Hell or High Watermelon from 21st Amendment Brewery. It comes in a can. It’s brewed with watermelon juice. And it tastes awful.

There is no bitterness to the flavor at all, but I actually think that is a bad thing here. If it had any other characteristics, even cheek smash, I would have had something more clever to say than “it tastes awful”. But I don’t. The best way to describe the experience of drinking this, is to give you a play by play:

1. Pour. Its kind of foamy, but not obnoxious. Typical light beer type pour.
2. Smell. Not bad. Vaguely watermelon-y. Even though I knew this was going to be a tough swallow, I had an actual glimmer of hope at this point.
3. Taste
   1. Light. Not much to it. Hardly more substantial than water.
   2. Ok there is a hint of the watermelon, but…
   3. What is that … fish? ugh…watermelon ala’ fish scales.
   4. (At this point my face kind of scrunched up, and I drank some Tabasco to get the flavor out of my mouth)
4. Pour in the sink. Sorry about that sink.

It’s not the worst beer I’ve ever had. I didn’t cringe, spit it out or want to vomit. But it is really bad. It’s just sort of the definition of what “this tastes bad”, is supposed to taste like.

Believe it or not, I really don’t like giving bad reviews. I love craft brewers, and encourage them to experiment with awesome beers to make us dance and cheer. But since this is clear violation of Frosty Edict #4 – “Enough With The Watermelon”, the voice of the people needed to be heard. So thanks Billy. Thanks for dropping off something on my desk that was as terrible as expected, packaged in BPA lined cans, and nearly ruined my egg sandwich.

You’d think I’d learn after trying an import from Poland (“cool!”) that turned out to be their Malt Liquor (“dag nabbit!”) that trying odd Eastern European imports with labels in foreign languages is a wild gamble.  But if you’ve been reading my posts so far, you now know that I never learn.  Those brain cells died in a puddle of Schlitz long ago.  This time, it’s from Mother Russia — Baltika Number 6, which is something called a “Baltic Porter”.  In keeping with my policy of never learning, I have also not done my homework to figure out exactly what that is, but I drink on, nonetheless.

Baltika Numero Six is not bad, just off a bit.  Not skunky, despite the intercontinental trip to Socal.  None of the flavors are bad, though there are a LOT of them.  Not too astringent, though I was expecting the first sip to dissolve my front teeth, as so often happens with extra-strong imports.  But it’s just… different — an odd mismash of flavors that don’t quite all work together.  Something’s just not quite right — maybe something’s lost in the translation, maybe this is what Baltic Porters are supposed to be, but I’m not buyin’ it.  Why not?  Check out their website – you can look up the Baltika’s official homepage for all their beers (they run from 1 through 9).  For Number 6, you’ll see a strange juxtaposition of hip, modern Russian youngster spinnin’ trax on the DJ set on the left, next to this description of Baltika No. 6 on the right:

“Baltika’s porter is one of the most eminent varieties of Russian beer with a long heritage.  Energy value: 60 kilocalories per 100 g of beer.  Nutritional value: not more than 6.0 g of carbohydrates per 100 g of beer.”

Wow — that has to be the most arid, scientific beer slogan I’ve ever seen.  Keep in mind, this is on their official website, where you’re supposed to sing the praises of your product, not post half of an AP Chemistry word problem.  And it about sums it up for Baltika No. 6 — like the emergence of Russian glam rock bands after glastnost, Baltika No. 6 is just a little too alien for my taste.