Widmer and I go way back. It began innocently enough with Hefeweizen. Pretty ubiquitous around the west coast, it taught me many years ago that there was beer that was actually good. Drop Top was decent for parties, and then came Snow Plow. When I first moved up to Beervana, I wish just giddy for the thick and tasty Snow Plow during the winters.

But as time wore on, and I tried more and more beer, I began to notice the flaws in Widmer. The Hefe was just a touch too bland and overdone. The Drop Top was well, not so great for parties anymore, and the Snow Plow tasted like a burned tree. And so, like that girl in college who pasted a “I didn’t really want to break up, I just wanted to scare you into being more serious” note to my apartment door, Widmer and I were done.

And so it was with Brrr. I wanted to give the local boys another shot, after all, the bottle wrapper was excellent. I poured a glass and drank. At first, it was good. Crisp, a little bite, but tasty. But then I drank more, and the bite continued. With one last swig I tried ot give it a go, and it had just turned undrinkable. I can’t explain exactly what it was. It may as well pasted a note as well, cause I just wasn’t able to take it any more.

I know I can be a cranky drinker, but this one at least is coroberated by Chris of Ruby McGowan, who caught me in the hall to remark that he too had a quick break up … and that he has a winter ale brewing as we speak.

So the lesson to take away is this, no matter how fancy her wrapper is, she has to be smooth on the inside. No wait. No matter how fancy her wrapper is, the second time down she’ll start to bite. No wait thats worse…er…dont drink bad beer.

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”.