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I didn’t expect a whole lot from this beer initially, but I have to say I like it.   I spotted it on the shelf in the import area and noticed it had the same packaging style at the Guiness draft cans, decided that I had completed enough research into it as a beer selection (i.e. none), and grabbed it.  It’s sort of the beer equivalent of bar peanuts, being easy to drink along with a vague pub ambiance to it — pretty smooth, no overwhelming flavor, no complicated affectations to it.  I also like the Guinness-can-style carbonation (or is it nitrogenation? Someone explained it to me once, and I forgot), where the fizz comes from some mysterious mechanism in the bottom of the can when you crack it open, producing this tasty fine-grained foam that’s pretty close to a draught-poured Guinness. Boddington’s got precisely the same setup, down to even the height of the can. It makes you feel a little closer to a 300-year-old pub in Salisbury, than you normally would drinking Bud Light with the same carbonated feel as your kid’s Sprite. Oops, wait, this Bud Light I’m drinking is my kid’s Sprite! What they hey?  Where’s my beer?  Walt Junior, put that down now!

Whew — that was a close one. The little Liquors are only allowed to drink imports.  Here, try some of this Boddington’s in your sippy cup…  Anyway, back to these tall yellow quasi-Guinness-fizzers.  The taste is not spectacular, but is enough to stand on its own for good quaffing with some pub food (or your best homemade approximation, say for example bratwursts).  As with bar peanuts, you might not be instantly impressed with the flavor, but you’ll find yourself taking more sips, cracking open a new one, and before you know it, you’ve quaffed the whole four-pack.  Despite me setting up my beer selection criteria for this website to practically guarantee horrible beers, I’ve actually found a beer I’d drink again…

I’ll admit, I was totally gun shy after installment one. For no good reason, I cringed as I started to drink this beer. But you know what, it was good! Its a nice copper colored ale, with a real smooth drinkability. It has a bit of fruity wheat taste, kind of like the summer wheats I dig so much. All in all, quite enjoyable. Sort of the British equivalent to “Easy Drinkin’”.

In addition to the good taste, I also have to give kudos to the Brits for the bottle. It has that funny British bottle shape, but unlike their smelly southern neighbors, it holds 1 pint, 9 ounces. That my friends, is appreciation for the drinker. And just another reason why England won the war. I’m not sure which war, but damn it I’m sure they won.

The joke of the label itself is a little broad, given the off-kilter Monty Python humor — the beer artwork says “Holy Grail”, with the “GR” crossed out and “ALE” written in below.  Yes, thanks, I got the joke — broadcasting your joke that loudly I’d expect instead from something Jay Leno pasted to a black card, not from the folks at Monty Python.  And yet, the beer is actually really tasty…  it’s got a nice thick ale taste to it, something you might imagine enjoying with a bratwurst or salt & vinegar chips in a British pub somewhere.  I had figured that an essentially gag one-off beer would show the signs of a lack of priority on taste, but it’s the real deal.  Of course after five straight reviews of the very worst in beer (again, see my Stanley-Cup-winning series on Beer Whose Artwork Can Kick Your Ass), Formula 409 might get three out of six from me at this point.  For that reason I give myself a handicap of one off my first impression of 5 out of 6 for this beer.  I heartily recommend it.   And I wear high heels.  And I like to press wildflowers…