With his hairy bare feet and a furry white coat, the Yeti searches for true refreshment while hiking up to the top of his peak. There, sitting in the cold, French alpine stream he finds a cluster of bottles tied together and dangling from a branch. Looking to the left, he sees a couple of men fishing, oblivious of the crime he is about to commit. Grabbing the beer booty, he flings the bottles over his frosty shoulder and continues his journey up the steep mountainside. He only stops one more time to pick up a frozen Jedi before entering his humble cave dwelling. He sets his whining dinner aside and takes a chug from his stolen brewski.
“Oh crepe! This is good stuff!” He finishes the bottle in a couple of swigs.
“Ben.” His dinner responds.
“Shut up you, Ken-ig-got! Before I fart in your general direction!” The yeti slaps his hairy head a few times before returning to his beer.

Unfortunately the Jedi overtakes our French Yetti with a glowing phallic weapon, and the rest is history, (or the future in a galaxy far far away).

Lucky for me, I was able to get my own paws on this good stuff. What first caught my eye was the handsome hairy snow creature smiling at me in the beer isle, but then the yeti on the bottle was pretty cute too. This beer is a blonde with a whole lotta fruit brewed inside. It is a great beer to pair up with a summer meal in the warm evening dusk, or to have with blueberry pancakes in the morning. It is refreshing, and not too light. With 8% alcohol, I was feeling pretty good after one bottle. I recommend it, and be sure to toast the yeti who discovered it as well.

I guess I just have a special affection for beers that you can’t see through. While no Blackened Voodoo, it makes a decent substitute. It has that indescribable yummy dark flavor, without a single hint of cheek smash or “lets call it chocolate” twang (yeah you heard me Bison Chocolate Stout). Its good, and I basically have nothing but good to say about how yummy this tastes.

Sadly, since its from Brazil (how the hell do you pronounce that name anyway), you won’t be able to get a six pack for less that 10-12 bucks. Plus, I guess they don’t have good glass in Brazil, since this bottle had the weight and consistency of that sugar glass they use in the movies. If they weren’t so damn pricey, I may have had a few more and drunkily tested to see if it broke over my head. Thank you Market of Choice, for making this too expensive to hurt myself.

To think, this beer survived a voyage across the Atlantic, across this great continent of ours, only to end up in my supermarket, to be tasted by me, whose reaction was… “yup, it’s beer.” Considering the distance it traveled, it sure tastes an awful lot like Rolling Rock. I wonder if I have fallen for the mystique of a beer imported from Italy, which happens to be Italy’s equivalent of Schlitz. Or Rolling Rock. I admit to putting imported beers on a bit of a pedastel, giving them a handicap because you look so Continental when you drink one. “Yes, Yves”, I would say, holding my Peroni in a frosted mug imported from Switzerland, “I do find Andorra to be a bit of a delight this time of year. So, how should I say, Andorra-ble! Har har har har!” Then Yves would slap me with a can of Schlitz. Yes, for all I know, Peroni’s is my own personal equivalent of Christopher Lambert, the star of “Highlander”, so well beloved in America, and yet considered annoying in his home country of France. See — I’m already becoming insufferable after drinking this beer, I’m starting to quote obscure facts about Europe. Somebody take this beer from me before I spend a quarter at the University of Hamburg studying Goethe…All in all, though, not a bad beer. Decent to drink, a little skunky from its trip overseas, but I’d Goethe get more from the store anytime…

Every now and then, when I’ve had tons of the Easy Drinkin’ brews, I hanker for something more experimental. I wander down to the local brew pusher and grab something off the “wall o’ beer”. Sometimes this can have spew worthy results (see Fuller’s Extra Special Bitter … my dad bought it). But on occasion I get lucky, and this stuff is certainly one of those times. Those crazy Belgian brewers have created a fruity sort of yum in a way that Kona’s Wailua missed entirely. It’s a light tasty Belgian Wheat that leaves no crappo aftertaste that can be the hallmark of foreign beer.

The main problem I have with this beer has nothing to do with the taste, its the goofy wrapper. A snail? Really? I mean maybe they market this beer to France, or perhaps it just has some ingredient that the distributor chose not to mention. Either way, it’s a terrible visual choice, and makes me wonder what exactly it was that brought me to pick it up in the first place. Sacre bleu!