At the lake, address 007, license to chill. Me and Blue Rodeo lost together.* Enjoying a chill swill, the Helles you say, and I confirm. 2/3 of the way through my brew, I receive an emergency directive from the Department of Morality. It appears our buffalo breathed leg humping snaggle toothed canine companion, possibly one of man’s best friends but not mine at the moment, has to go out and take care of business. Tunes on pause, my beer awaiting my return and exhibiting far more patience than I am. In the woods with coyote bait, waiting for her number one to be done. Mission accomplished and back to the cask at hand.
Line 12 could refer to Farmer Steve’s most successful approach to the far fairer sex back in the day, or Studio 51 excess, or the back of the room for the boot scoot boogie. None of the above. It is the name of Quayle’s farm fresh Helles, this evening’s chill pill. A Canada Beer Cup gold medalist with a pedigree much more impressive than the aforementioned huckleberry hound.
A light golden pour, lighter than the night would have you believe. A gold cup crown of a head. A crisp fresh almost mettalic aroma. First taste is a mild fruit apple pear malt combo leading to a very dry finish. My first thought was unique and nice. Ok my first two thoughts for the more pedantic of you readers, which I expect will only be our egghead editor.
Eventually a slight floral flourish joins the crisp dry finish. Not a bouquet or even a flower, maybe 3 petals? Slight as in just right.
There is some big swig potential energy emanating from this pint and my job is to turn that potential energy into kinetic energy.** And it’s a big swig success story.
A well balanced great tasting Helles lager, all those pale parts and pieces perfectly positioned and partitioned for a positively pleasing pint.
0 Comments