I’m not much for roughing it now, but back in the day we did some camp ground quaffing, resulting in a few cross-border escapades. Happy hour in A-Bay *when the Canadian dollar was still paper and worth as much as it’s US counterpart. Can crushing, bar hopping and maple bending**, no time to roast marshmallows on those outings. We certainly weren’t enjoying nature to it’s fullest extent, especially the next morning. Maybe this is what Muskoka refers to as “campfire follies”.
These days I camp out in my lazy boy instead of Keewaydin*, in front of the big screen instead of the big sky, watching Blue Jays instead of the birds, and quaff a cold one instead of…. quaffing a cold one. I call it gramping. And that is exactly what I did with this dry-hopped pilsner.
This brew pours far clearer than my conscious, as in distal and crystal. A light golden pour with an unroasted marshmallow white head. No nose, you know, say it isn’t so. So. Not sure what that means but I couldn’t detect any malt, hops, fruit or associated suds smells to speak of. Tastes of mid-tier malt, a bit of fizz and kind of a flat finish, not the crisp you would expect from a pilsner. A slight fruit tinge of a wisp of a touch of a taste. It is certainly easy going down, but I miss my pils crisp. A slight sweet instead.
A good beer but you get the feeling it could be better.
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