So it was with some trepidation that I sat down with my on again off again lover, New Belgium, to try their latest fruit beer concoction. The first thing I noticed was the audaciousness of it. This wasn’t your standard “gonna try it but not commit” 22 oz, but rather a full on 6 pack of bottles. Buying a six pack of something like this is a real commitment of trust between the brewer and the buyer. As in, this better be good, or there will be 5 unused bottled flying through the air toward Fort Collins.

Thankfully, due to a sale at the beer swiller, I took that leap of faith, and brought home a 6 pack. Now, home, I popped one open and braced myself. I was ready for tang, I was ready for yuck, but what I wasn’t ready for was….what the hey, this is good! It was a nice mellow brown ale, with a raspberry flavor that complimented it, without punching your tastebuds with a “HEY IM RASPBERRY, TASTE ME!”. In the summer time, sipping a beer in the shade by the grill, this Ale would be a perfect easy drinker; an ideal fruity escape from the cheap boxed wine your neighbor brings to the 4th of July party.

It is a bit sweet, so one a day certainly was enough (still not quite sure about the 6 pack thing), but I must tip my hat to old NB for making something that did the fruit beer world proud.

Sam Adams on the other hand, takes a beer type I generally enjoy, Bock. And turns into something more like BBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCCCCCKKKKKK!!! Like punch you in the face with malt Bock. This stuff was terrible and totally undrinkable. Tastebud attack!!

This weeks entry comes from Elysian brewing. I had never heard of Elysian, but the local beer pusher pointed it out as I stared at The Wall, and said to me “It’s the best pumpkin beer ever made”. Really? Ok then. So I bought it, and hoping for something better than the sorry entry by Blue Moon, I chugged it down.

Sure enough, this one tasted pumpkin-y. A bit of nutmeg and coriander. All the hallmarks of the standard “pumpkin ale”. I’m not sure if I would call it “the best ever”, but it was drinkable and didn’t feel like a pumpkin to the face.

Now wait you say, why is this tagged “New Belgium”? Let’s just says that my impressions are perhaps tainted by a bit of cheating I noticed while reading the bottle label!

(For those of you who can’t decipher my phone’s sucko camera, it says “Brewed for Elysian … by New Belgium Brewing”.)

For some time now, skylark and I have had an argument. He has claimed that you were unimaginative. He claimed that all your beers tasted the same. He claimed you weren’t the awesome microbrew heroes you claimed to be.

And all this time I defended you. I said “No, 1554 is original!”. “New Belgium is awesome”. “They GET it.” I believed it in my heart… and then I saw this.

There you were, nestled up next to the Pabst Blue Ribbon. And me, standing there mouth agape. How could I face skylark now? It’s like I was the guy angrily defending the fidelity of his best girl…while she bangs some guy under the bleachers at the monster truck rally.

Good bye New Belgium. You can keep the singing fish plaque and the Garth Brooks CD. You’ll need it where you’re going.

- Frosty

Fellow reviewer skylark (whose wife recently gave birth to a bouncing baby boy), and I were having an argument … er … discussion once about his assertion that New Belgium beers all taste the same. Having now tried all but 1, I have to say that Mothership Wit tastes nothing like 1554, and publicly decry that he’s just bitter that New Belgium doesn’t make IPAs.

I also have to give this beer extra kudos for being organic. Up here in the land of Birkenstocks and hybrid cars, labeling things organic gives you extra points with the “boutique grocery store” crowd. Even the hippies my kids played drums with in the park would approve. Not of showering perhaps, but drinking this beer for sure. Then recycling the bottle to water your “medicinal” herbs, man.

Perhaps its my affinity for beer I can’t see through. But when I read “Belgian Black Ale” I was sold. Someday, if I ever go to Belgium the country, I am going to get so wildly drunk on Belgian beer that I may forget I was ever there. Of course, with the way internationalization goes these days, Belgium is probably full of Budweiser and Coors. Then I’ll just drink milk and wonder why Belgian beer only tastes good in America.

Of course, I’m going to enjoy the rest of my six-pack. In the end, maybe that is the message: if you love New Belgium and they’re all out of  Fat Tire, don’t worry about it. Just have some Skinny Dip or 20 Below! They all taste pretty much the same.

I need to come clean about something first, when I went to the store I intended to pick up a case of my old favorite, Miller Highlife. However, when I got there I wasn’t in the mood for the Highlife. There was also someone else there and I was ashamed. But as I drink my Skinny Dip, I am glad my shame led me to by it. Light, but with that Fat Tire full-bodied taste, and a burnt-chocolate finish. Very yummy and light too! So I won’t gain any weight, right?

If you’re looking for a light beer that REALLY tastes great, Skinny Dip is it. Prost!