Poolside with a peachy pint. Firin’ up the community BBQ for some grillin’ and swillin’, Lord willin’. After a sketchy start we have ignition, and I popped the top on this peachy pop for liftoff. Number four in my Four Peaks trilogy, this golden ale is a fruity concoction. I do love me a nice firm peach, but in my beer? Not so much. But slaving over the hot grill, a chill ale should fill my sail. In such demand it’s right out of the can. Actually, no glasses allowed in the pool area, and a citation from the poolside police could lead to pool privileges pulled.* So out of the can it is.
Flippin’ the bird and tippin’ a brew once again, chicken and beer seem to go hand in hand. Not literally, well not the chicken anyway, unless you want a nasty burn. The Department of Morality’s instructions (don’t burn it this time) seem to be at odds with the COMDB BBQ guidelines (well done is well done) and believe me the odds are not, nor have they ever been, in my favour. I find in dealing with conflicting philosophies a nice frosty brewski can help me to ignore them both totally. And this situation is no exception.
Sorry Virginia, there is no Santa, but there is a peach Fanta.
No pour to speak of since it’s can in hand. Aroma of peach, that’s it and all, peachy on the nose. The taste is peachy pop, mild carbonation and a very mild ale bitter finish. A half flat peach Fanta, not complaining or complimenting, just stating a fact. Very easy drinking, like a cold pop with minimal fizz, big swig hydration in progress. A great hot weather by the pool while burning the bird kind of brew. And removing a bit of the edge of the day while its at it.
Beer done, bird burnt, time to go face the music, an all too familiar tune.
0 Comments