Craft Beer & Other Terrible Concoctions
Now that Boston is on this kick where it likes to pretend that its not racist and has class, it’s seeping with yuppies and terrible people making $100k a year thinking that they’re Robert Kraft or the person who invented Kraft Mac N Cheese (probably the same person, what do I know), and unfortunately BREWERIES. Every fucking where you look, it’s like Vermont or Denver or wherever else there might be no identify whatsoever except beer and hippie jams. That vibe doesn’t fit in with Boston’s $3500 average a month apartment so they really have to play up the marketing on this. They get guys who play intramural softball on the weekends to pretend like they’re really bringing something delicious to the table when in reality its just beer something that they call “flavor” which is the equivalent of White Claw tasting “fruity and delicious”. White Claw tastes like if a mango had a taint and you’d lick it before sticking your head in a hot tub and gargling so I’m all set with that acquired nonsense.
I mean let’s get a run down of what breweries do: they make something that already exists and is totally fine already, and then they try to make it their own aka “uNiqUe”. If this was the 80’s that would be called QUEER. It’s fucking beer. It’s not a new band looking for a cool, hip sound. It’s beer. It works. It does the job its intended to do and the only reason we think it tastes good to begin with is because when we drink it our brain pulls a little cord that reminds us it gets us drunk. Kind of like when I smell a crisp, sunny November afternoon and I’m like “oh yeah, skipping school and playing beer pong” except I’m stuck in traffic in the Tunnel wanting to kill myself. Isn’t the human brain fascinating? Let’s not reinvent the wheel here people. It’s like they have lager that tastes like all the other breweries’ lager except the few with weird after tastes aka “their super cool brand”, they have sours which loosely translated means “heartburn” I think in Latin, they have an American take on that German heiwverswven (you know what I’m saying there, which yesterday I learned they only pronounce the V, so moving on), and then of course double IPA titty twister snoozinmarook. And the names of these things are like “Clown Shoes” and “Cloud Booze” and “Gussusinhoodlukes”. First of all, I do not go to the bar to recite Dr. Seuss books ok? I go to be social…by sitting alone and watching cable TV and reading the news on my phone. And for the record “Go Dog Go” was the superior children’s rhyming tale, thank you P.D. Eastman.
I’m just saying, we didn’t invent beer here. Stop trying to pretend you do it better than the Germans. Let’s let them have the one thing that they really enjoy (NO, not THAT thing, the beer thing) and continue making our enjoyable water beers that you can drink 25 of in a sitting and be hydrated enough to go for a jog or sit on the beach. Restaurants need to stop pretending that this is what people want when they go out. It’s like, not only do I have to go to a new eatery and learn a new menu and probably some words because the head chef loves to pretend he invented the art of reduction. but now I need to learn an alcohol menu. With absolutely nothing on it that I know. “OHHH but Kerry, that’s so fun, try new things”. Yeah I like to try new things like going on vacation which will be a new thing for me if I can ever afford one again, but sometimes I just want to try one new thing and have some comfort Corona and/or Tequila with my new thing. Unless we’re talking street food in Vietnam. Then fuck me up fam.
Now that we’ve addressed my distaste for craft beer, I’d like to talk about some classic cocktails I avoid. Won’t you join me?
Aperol Spritz - My girlfriend and her friends love this one. You make it by putting bubbles with Aperol, which in terms of how I like my alcohol (simple), this should be something I could get behind. I am NOT behind it whatsoever. Liquors (like how a French person would say it, not like the plural see: lickers) in general should be reserved for 14 year olds sneaking into their parent’s liquor cabinet looking to get drunk but never quite getting there. There’s a reason they don’t make Aperol nips, I’ll say that much. Aperol Spritz taste like a mimosa with all the fun taken out of it, and replaced with children’s cough syrup. Hold the cough syrup for me thanks.
2. Fernet - Don’t even get me started. I’m pretty sure I’ve used Fernet as the punch line in this blog at least six times before. That should say enough. I know it’s an after dinner drink that people consume to settle their stomach but nothing I ever spend money on should taste like that. I’m just going to give myself a licorice enema while I’m at it.3. Old Fashion - Ah yes, just what the doctor ordered after a long day at the office. The fucking outer shell of a fruit that typically goes in the trash while you enjoy the edible part of the orange. Why in the hell would I want something in my drink that tastes like seltzer water pretending to be an orange? Great, now let’s top that off with bourbon, because that goes REAL good with the trash peel. OH and before I forget, a maraschino cherry! Because in the equation of trash + gross + sickly sweet, you ALWAYS get a delicious drink.
4. Martinis - If you just want to drink straight vodka in a glass, no one is going to stop you. But don’t sit here and pretend like you’re better than the rest of us by putting in a fancy glass OK? And don’t even get my started on Vermouth. It’s one of those Apreolly things. Belongs in the trash.
5. Manhattan - May also be pronounced “Manny-hattan” aka an Old Fashion’s weird creepy sugar daddy uncle. Call me American Pie in this scenario because rye whiskey just doesn’t sound like something I want to consume and I’m going bye bye. I just had to look up what rye whiskey was - it’s the kind made here in the south, not the Irish kind. There’s a reason why Irish people are drunks and its not because of rye whiskey. If I see someone with a bottle of Jim Beam in their house, I’m going to be concerned. Not because of the bottle of Jim Beam, but because of the box of 12 empty ones sitting next to an empty trash can. Oh look Vermouth again. Pass.
And that today concludes our tour of why a shot and a beer will always be a simple yet affective tool in navigating adulthood. Until next time GRB fans. (insert proper spelling of German’s saying goodbye because I can’t even get it up on Google).