I’m not sure I should be reviewing beer. I don’t seem to be qualified. I mean, I paid almost $5 each for two beers at Fred Meyer. I have heard a lot about Hair of the Dog but had never tried one of their brews for myself. They’ve got a cool logo after all, and we all know I am a total sucker for good branding.

I was not in the mood for a whole six pack and although $4.79 or something a bottle made me think twice, I also thought, “this is going to be some NICE beer!” As I poured the beer in to my pilsner glass (I thought it would be fitting) I was sure my thinking was right. The beer was dark with a beautiful head. I mean, gorgeous. My mouth watered in anticipation.

But before I talk about the first sip, let’s talk about Hair of the Dog. Their reputation precedes them. This is real beer-o-phile beer. The first, called Fred, piqued my interest with the name alone. Fred Eckhard, famed beer reviewer and historian had recently passed away and although I had never heard of the man, I quickly became a fan albeit posthumously. The label on the beer paid tribute to Mr. Eckhardt, sighting him as one of the inspirations for getting in to the beer biz. Cool.

Cool, that is until the first sip. Jesus. Satan? My face contorted and I forced it down. My wife gave me a sideways glance. Typical burnt-chocolaty taste, but this time followed by a finish laced with the distinct flavor or vomit. Yes. Vomit. Not kinda vomit, or vomit-like, or faintly reminiscent of vomit. V-O-M-I-T. If this is a tribute, I’d hate to see what they do for people they hate. Fred Eckhardt is spinning in his grave. Or maybe not. Maybe its me.

I soldiered on. I was determined to enjoy this beer and count myself among the true beer lovers. I screwed up my face and worked through the rest of the pilsner glass. Worked through it like hard labor or passing a kidney stone. Again, sidelong glances from the wife asking, “why?”

On to the second glass. Surely the second glass will be better. This one, Adam (not sure which departed soul this one is meant to offend), offered the same thick brown head and chocolaty aroma. It also unfortunately included the same bitter-vomit taste. I was able to withstand about half the glass. Withstand is the key word here.

So, maybe I should turn in my gun & badge or login credentials or whatever. Maybe Fred Eckhardt would give me a good brow-beating for dogging (pun intended) on his namesake. Maybe. But until Mr. Eckhardt comes down from heaven and tells slaps me on the head, I’m sticking to my guns.

This beers sucks. If this is how we honor our fallen beer lovers then I’m thinking we need to stick to simple burials. The next time I spend $4.79 on a beer it better either be good or accompanied by some good house music.