“Woah” I said as I took my first swig. And I didn’t mean a good woah.

I was feeling adventurous, so I decided to grab this rather cool looking bottle and try something from our friends down south. Apparently “Carnivale” isn’t the only wild and crazy thing in Brazil, cause this beer is wacky. The odd initial flavor, and ass-y aftertaste is difficult to describe. Fruit? Wheat? It is “Unfiltered Wheat Doublebock”. Apparently what they didn’t filter out was the “funk”.

I give it a 2, cause I made it through at least 1/3 of the glass before the inevitable sink pour.

I got what I deserved. Even a non beer drinker would tell you that buying a beer named after a character on the Simpsons was a bad idea. And really, after my terrible experience with Three Stooges beer back in 2000, you’d think I’d have learned my lesson about t.v. themed beer. In a word … Blech.

Ok, so this beer isnt really Simpsons themed, but the name alone should have scared me away. Santa’s Little Helper huh? Yeah maybe when Santa needs help washing something down the sink and there isnt any water handy. Or when “that one” relative shows up who drinks all your good beer, and you want to teach him a lesson.

As you can clearly see, I hated this beer. But I gave it a 2 because those of you who like IPA’s may actually be able to drink it. Its so very hoppy, which I generally am not a fan of, but the fact that it didn’t advertise itself as being so is what got me. Like the similarly themed Hair of the Dog, Santa’s Little Helper has a (Simpsons) name that is truth in advertising.

The other night I sat down to watch the Comedy Central roast of Flavor Flav, and cracked me open a 40 of Steel Reserve. Somehow the perception shift induced by malt liquor renders Flava more normal and understandable.  At the first sip, you’re still approximately sober, and Flava appears (correctly) to be from Mars.  About halfway down, he starts making more sense, and so by the time you’re nearing the bottom of the bottle, it looks to you like you’re watching George Plimpton read from the Economist.  Once you finish off the last foamy disgusting swig, you’re officially a producer on three tracks on the latest Ol Dirty Bastard album. 

Part three in my tony-nominated series of reviews, Beers Whose Artwork Can Kick Your Ass, Steel Reserve is yet another malt liquor beer that I (a pencil-necked balding geek who could get sunburnt from a dashboard light) have absolutely no business drinking.  And yet, it wasn’t bad.  If drinking Schlitz is like punching yourself in the face with a cinder block, Steel Reserve is like slugging yourself in the stomach with a can of pumpkin pie mix.  (And of course Miller Lite is like a weak slap to the face with an envelope of petunia seeds.)   It didn’t have the sharp skunkiness or odd medicine-y taste that the really bad malt liquors have in that first whiff — served sufficiently cold, Steel Reserve will admirably serve your purposes if your purposes are funded at less than the 3 dollar level. 

I realized in writing this review that I should research why the hell there’s a “211″ on the label, and discovered it’s the medieval symbol for “steel”.  There, someone can now use this blog as a book report.  While you’re at it, include this little nugget (and remember to cite wikipedia):  “Due to the high alcohol content and low price, Steel Reserve is widely consumed by alcoholic homeless people.”  Which brings into stark relief for me who the target audience is for my set of reviews on Frosty Goodness.  Unfortunately Steel Reserve is banned in parts of Seattle for this reason (drunken homeless crime, not my posts on this website).  So I heartily recommend this El Cheapo beer, and urge you to try it before it is inevitably banned by your metropolitan area.  911 might be a joke, but 211 makes for one wild night with five-foot-three former rappers…

You know those moments where you remember something so fondly from when you were a kid,. You remember how amazing this one experience was. Then you try it later as an adult and find out it was lame, boring or horribly nasty (hello Nesquik “Strawberry” Milk). Sadly, this is exactly what Widmer Snow Plow did to me.

I can’t remember why it was, but for some reason I had it built up in my head that this beer was this awesomely brewed past lover. I imagined us strolling on the beach together, sharing a good laugh and sipping from each other’s malts.

But in a scene straight out of a college “post beer goggles” morning wake up, what greeted my lips was something just short of totally nasty. Wha? Where was that beautiful yummy glass of pure joy I remember? All I can guess is that some really big burned tree fell in the vat. Because that can to be the only excuse for something that tasted straight out of the SoCal Wild fires.

I wanted to give this beer a 3 for the good times I remember us having, but in the immortal words of Bruce Campbell, “Baby…you got real ugly”.

This beer made me so sad. Up to this point, Alaska Brewing had been batting 100, scoring with the Amber, Stout, and Summer. Endlessly long winters however, seem to have taken their toll on the brewmasters. This beer advertises itself as being brewed with spruce tips..which should be your first warning. When I think of good beer flavor, somehow trees just don’t come to mind. But I was feeling adventurous.

How this beer really tastes is indescribable, since it assaults you with so many flavors you can’t really decide what it tastes like. Except for gross. On the upside, the overly powerful taste worked great for a marinade. Saved from a 1 by the mighty spruce.

My backlog of beer reviews is growing due to “work” and “family” stuff (I know, I know… I need to get my priorities straight). I’ve been trying lots of new brews as I’ve traveled around for my job. I had a Belgian Wheat from Blue Moon ($1 at Tsunami in Charleston, SC) with an orange wedge garnish that was cheap if not pleasing. I also had a Palmetto Pale Ale in while at Slightly North of Broad (or S.N.O.B.) as it is known) which wasn’t bad but may have been good because of the insanely good shrimp & grits I was having. While in Virginia, I went to the Icehouse Bar & Grill in Herndon. I had their New York Strip & Crab Cakes special with their own Ice House IPA. It wasn’t bad, not up to NW standards but it was good to see those East Coast boys trying.

A lot of people (especially those from the East Coast) get offended when you say something like, “The East Coast doesn’t know what real beer is.” They bring up something about Sam Adams “inventing” micro-brewing. Whatever. I’ll give you Sam Adams but that is pretty much the only contribution worth mentioning. They may have started it, but we Northwesters have taken it to the next level. Thats right, and I’ll kick the crap out of anyone who says otherwise.

Anywhoo, my last trip to NYC led me to believe that the other coast was completely devoid of good beer. I’ve heard that DC has some good beers too. Who knows, maybe 20 years from now some East Coast dude will be hatin’ on Northwest beer like its old news.

They say “a picture is worth a thousand words”. And if you take a close look at the picture on the left, you will see something that perhaps tells you more about this beer than even a thousand words could. Can you see what it is? For the astute, you will have noticed that the cap is still on. And that’s the way the remaining bottles of this icky stout will remain.

There are many stout makers that really get what a stout is all about: Black Seal Stout at the Rock Bottom in La Jolla, Snow Plow by Widmer, and our Patron Saint, Guiness to name a few. But then there are the others. Bison Chocolate Stout, Boone Valley Oatmeal Stout, and this one. “Stouts” from brewers that seem to think that burnt wood is a flavor people would like in their beer. I want to believe that they made it taste like this on purpose, but even so it doesn’t make it better. You get some yummy stout flavor on first sip, but then the rest of this bottle is like “juice of firepit log.” Steer clear.

You know how when you taste a particular nasty flavor, it just sort of sticks with you? You may have only had it once, but you instantly recognize it when you taste it again. I can say the same about beers like Coors and Budweiser. Brewed heavily with rice, they have this kind of “crappy beer” twangy aftertaste that screams wifebeaters and mullets.

Unfortunately, the same can be said for Red Hook’s SunRye. The packaging is top notch (cool bottle shape even), and the promise of a yummy summer beer is inviting. But once you have that first light sip… I’d swear this was a Coors in a fancy wrapper. I wanted to like it, I really did, but damn that aftertaste.

It almost meets the criteria for a 3, but my total disappointment, and the fact I don’t want to drink the 4 remaining bottles in my fridge smack it down to a sad 2. If they could kill the post sip twang, this would be some good stuff. But until then, I don’t want to feel like I’m back in high school, drinking Bud or Natural Light in my buddy’s garage while his parents are out of town. Blech.

Usually I don’t buy beer to cook with first and drink second, but I did it with this one. It made OUTSTANDING grilled clams, only because the beer flavor disappeared when the clams opened up, but it’s not quite so nice to drink.

This pale ale is almost trying to be an IPA, but fails. There is a lingering aftertaste that reminds you of drinking and overly steeped cup of tea. I think the brewer left the teabag in this stuff way too long. If you like the wake up in the morning, cotton mouthy taste that this stuff leaves behind, by all means swill a case of this stuff.

It starts out tasting OK, but then quickly goes down hill with the hoppy, gritty, tea-baggy after taste. OK, no jokes about tea-bagging, but Frosty, you know who you are.

I’ll not be buying any more. I might not even finish the two that are left in the fridge. I think I’ll let the kitchen sink choke them down.

The particular 24 oz. can of Mickey’s that I purchased had a picture of an Ultimate Fighting champion on it, with gloves on, dukes up, ready to pummel your liver. Surprisingly, it wasn’t terrible — like most malt liquors, it is tolerable if served extremely cold. Also like most malt liquors, the horribleness factor rises sharply as you approach the bottom of the can. Near the bottom, as your hand’s warmth causes the actual flavor to come out, and as your repeated swilling stirs up lots of frothy bubbles, the remaining beer is absolutely undrinkable. You gotta like the marketing with UFC, though — this beer might be bad, but it’ll kick some butt on the top shelf of your fridge. Don’t put it near the mayonnaise, or someone might get hurt…