After trying this stuff a couple of weeks ago, it left me pleasantly wanting more, so Frosty and I managed to escape back to Belmont Station on Friday for lunch so that I could pick up a six pack.

I tried it again with dinner tonight:  Roast Turkey breast, Fried Stuffing, Corn on the Cob, and turkey gravy…all lovingly home made.   Food of the gods washed down with beer of the gods lite.

Wild Raspberry Ale doesn’t rate as highly as Stumptown Tart, but only because it doesn’t have the same depth of flavor.    Wild’s flavor is light, clean, definitely fruity, with a slightly sour wine-like finish.    It’s essentially Stumptown Lite, and that’s not a bad thing.     It’s not a clean drinking meal beer, it’s one of those winding down, sip to relax beers.     You could easily pack away 2 or 3 of these whereas you’d have to “work” to do the same thing with the real Stumptown.

Let’s see what Frosty thinks when I pack some of this along on our upcoming two-family camping trip.

This beer sounded good while wandering around Belmont Station,  but I’m sure Val Kilmer has been guilty of saying this to himself over and over again over the years as he has packed on the pounds.

It would have been a great beer had the heavy handed berry molesters at Laughing Dog not dumped way too many huckleberries in this hootch.   It had a great huckleberry flavor, but that’s all you could taste.   I’m sure there was a beer in there somewhere,  but it was hidden behind someone’s idea of Huckleberry nirvana.

This one gets a solid two and a short essay in pictures.

This,

Plus This,

Plus this,

Equals this.

Don’t let this be YOUR huckleberry.    Now go wash your eyeballs out with soap.

Sorry for the long gap in posts. You see, when I found out that Stumptown Tart was a limited run, and it was soon to be gone forever, I headed over to Magic Beer Station and cleaned them out. Many drunken nights later, I have finally decided to try something new, keeping up the appearance that we actually do something with this website.

On to Wolaver’s Organic Brown Ale. This review is going to be painfully short. Because really, the beer was good. Not awesome, not bad. Just one of those good beers. Calming and enjoyable. The beer version of smoking a nice cigar on a leather sofa.

Unfortunately, its hot outside, I’m getting that sweaty leg on leather thing, and the AC is on so the cigar smoke is swirling around the house making me cough. In other words, Wolaver’s Organic Brown is great beer, but is here too early. Come back in November dear Wolaver, when I’m ready to lement the loss of Oregon sun by wallowing in Thanksgiving turkey and dark malty beer. August is not for you.

Budweiser Ice

The Least Interesting Man in the World Drinks Bud Ice

He lives in a suburb of Columbus, Ohio. He works in accounting for an insurance company that serves other accounting companies. His favorite restaurant is Applebee’s. He is, in short, the least interesting man in the world. And he drinks Budweiser Ice.

Some facts about this man:

• His beard is not on his organ donation card. In fact, there is nothing particularly of interest on his organ donation card.
• He has never surfed, arm wrestled a dangerous foreigner, nor smoked a cigar in a high-g spinning test chamber. He has, however, scored a hole-in-one in frisbee golf.
• A CD, chosen at random from his collection, is 85% likely to contain vocals from Rob Thomas.
• The image on his desktop is one of the default selections that comes with Windows. It is centered, not stretched or tiled.
• Behind his beard, there is not a chin. There isn’t a fist, either. There is another long boring story about the 2006 draft of his fantasy football team.
• He is neither a lover, nor a fighter.

This man doesn’t always drink beer, but when he does, he makes it Bud Ice. Yes, Bud Ice, the beer so devoid of notable qualities one way or the other — it is not a very good beer to drink, and yet not bad enough to at least be an interesting story, like “Country Club” malt liquor. It comes and goes through your life like a ciper, the null set of beer-ness, the beer you’ve probably have had but don’t recall. Have a drink, won’t you, and when you do, please think about the least interesting man in the world.

[end commercial]

[and, end any idea of Walt Liquor's that he could make decent commercials]