We sat down for some good pub grub and conversation and ordered a pitcher of Starfire IPA. Frosty had the Summer Wheat or something because he is a hater. The IPA was distinctly different on the first sip. Both B-rad and I immediately blurted out  salmon. Puzzled, Frosty took a sip and came to the same conclusion. Smoked salmon to be specific. It was nice, kind of mellowed out the hops. It was almost like someone dropped a piece of charred cedar from a smoke house in to the hops.

Pleased with our choice in beer and our interpretation of the flavor we continued to dig on some cajun tots. After a while I took a deep swig from my now half empty glass and caught a distinct whiff of  B.O…. you know, body odor, man-stink. And not just any B.O. I’m talking a true ripeness. Ball-sweat. Taint-drip. Mary Catherine Gallagher neurotically shoving her hands in her pits and thrusting them in her face.

It was the unmistakable smell of your Grandpa’s BVD crotch after a strenuous game of Texas Holdem… and he didn’t come away ahead. You know what I mean? Yeah you do… he was clenchin’ those cheeks all the way to the River.

In the end, however, I learned something about myself. Turns out I can appreciate a good ball-sweat. I mean, I think I am going to refrain from getting it right from the source. That might have some unintended consequences and perhaps a slightly different aftertaste. No, definitely not but I guess what I am really saying is that it didn’t ruin the beer entirely. The unique smoked-salmon flavor really set it apart. I would simply request that those hippy brewmasters down at McMeniman’s refrain from throwing their sweat-soaked frisbee golf uniforms in with the hops.