Your dedicated beer bloggers have been swamped under piles of work that get us out of bed before sunup and keep us working well past decent darkling hours. I keep saying we should be MORE dedicated to our vicarious beer-drinking readers. We’ve had few chances to go out for a beer, let alone go get groceries. Dinner sometimes consisted of whatever could be scrounged from the pantry. Fruit cocktail-Grape Nuts-sautéed onion surprise! Just kidding. We'd never pair fruit cocktail with cereal.
Well, one day, peppermint and spearmint meet up with cocoa and vanilla beans. They have a few drinks, they go to a bar, and then wind up having an orgy with a batch of dark roast malt. And oh what a time they have. It’s probably appeared in a Tom Robbins novel, somewhere in a sloshy, sloppy chapter. You need to be more specific, darling.
When I got to the register, a bit of my whimsy was wearing off. I worried that maybe I was not in a suitable state of mind to buy such an odd beer. Ska is a solid brewer in these here parts. I’ve yet to try something I didn’t like from them. I’m pretty sure their quirky, zesty Molé Stout will become a regular in our fridge every holiday season (assuming they make it again).
I must have looked trepidatious when I put the beer on the counter because the clerk—a wizened old man who needs only a monocle to look like the Monopoly guy with a wicked white goatee (he's named Rich "Uncle" Pennybags. Everyone knows that. Right? Anyone...?)—volunteered his take on the Minthe. “Oh, I’ve had this one. It’s good. Have you had it?”
I admitted I had not but was curious.
“It reminded me of a dirty girl scout,” he said.
I blinked. “You mean like one who hasn’t sold all of her cookies?”
He blinked. Then he laughed. “I mean the drink.” He rambled off the blend of liqueurs and hard liquor that make up the tincture, then we both enjoyed a good laugh. That's it? Not a hearty guffaw? Not a convivial chuckle? Man. Laughing standards have gone down since Uncle Pennybags' day.
I got the Minthe Stout home and lured Zach out of his work chair. It was a bit like coaxing a zombie with the promise of, "Brains. C'mon. Brains." Only I was taunting with, "Beer. C'mon. Beer."
We sat out on our porch looking over the Animas Valley with micro-explosions of green. Spring has come late to our area with a few lingering snow storms, but the blossoms are bursting and the magpies are nesting and there was something in the air Zach and I have not felt for at least two years. I think you call it warmth....
And in that alien-feeling "warmth" we sipped our mint beers, which tasted just like a liquified version of Girl Scout thin mints. We didn't say ewww, but we didn't say oh.my.god.i.love.this.beer, either. Mostly I just made more zombie sounds. It was good, better than you might think beer with mint could be. Ska is reliable like that. Where most beers go wrong with additives like chili, Ska balances it out and make it work. What we found was that the mint comes on super strong while the brew is cold, but let it warm, and the cocoa tones regain a little self-esteem. This helps put the mint in its place and you get a delicious blend of bitter, cooling, and sweet.
This beer would make the perfect accompaniment to a night on the patio supping desserts. In fact, a few nights later we poured the beer over some vanilla bean ice cream and had beer floats! Now those were YUM. The super-sweet ice cream brought out the bitter cocoa and muted the mint just enough. And as an added bonus you don't usually get with root beer floats, we were drunk when our mugs were drained! Speak for yourself. I wasn't drunk. I was simply floating.
So the lesson may be: you don't have to sell all your cookies in order to reward yourself with a beer. And, don't be afraid of the novelty seasonal, especially when it comes from a brewery you trust! That said, I'd be curious to hear from readers who bought a novelty seasonal that didn't exactly float their boat. Did you find a way to make the beer worth the bucks or did you have to dump it down the sink or ladle it to the dog/cat/parakeet or pawn it off on unsuspecting neighbors/friends? We've never pawned off
birdie bogey beers. (Meaning worse than par. Not feeding it to parakeets. Why is sub-par a bad thing everywhere but the golf course, anyway?) Not once. And especially not with a green chile beer that tasted like the bottom of a roasting drum.