“Who is more foolish? The fool, or the fool who follows him?”
-Benjamin Kenobi

Juan de la Cueva may have been a loon. For some reason in 1575 he wrote about some dish that combined Jalapenos and ale. Crazy? Maybe. But the real fools in this instance are the guys at Rogue Brewery who decided that this obscure story would make for a great beer.

Have you ever tasted a shoe? No? Well, I’m not sure I ever have either, but immediately after taking a sip of this beer I was convinced it tasted like one. Then the shoe flavor left, and the real horror crept in. Repeat after me: Peppers do not belong in beer.

The aftertaste was so wrong, completely awful on so many levels, that I was convinced I couldn’t really have tasted that. I tried again. I had Grandpa Goodbeer try it. All to no avail. This beer is gross. As soon as the otherwise odd flavor goes away, Rogue Chipotle Ale attacks you with the nuclear bomb of all Aftertaste Attacks. Dry, tangy, salty, throat scratchy, gross old jalapeno flavor. Its actually much worse than it sounds, if you can believe that.

On the other hand…

I did have to give it a 2. It worked pretty awesome as a marinade for Tilapia.

I applaud Rogue for trying new things, I really do. But much like that random hallucinogen I tried in college, not all experiments are a good idea.

The only thing “spring release-y” about this stuff was the hopefully upcoming release of it a few hours later from my bladder.   Even then, it would probably be the same pitiful trickle that my first, and last, taste was.   I tried, I really tried to like it.  Honest.

I took a 6-pack of this camping along with Frosty and our families last weekend and figured that a nice cream ale would be a good choice for camping festivities.  This choice was Siriusly wrong.

Lagunitas appears to have taken this beer way too seriously and made something too “sirius” to be drinkable.   It’s a concoction that’s loosely  musty, hoppy,  and overly spiced.   My wife says it tastes like grapefruit and she willingly, YES WILLINGLY, agreed to drink the rest of this vile swill.

I’m only going to give it a 2 because previously I really have tasted worse and probably will again.  I’m saving my ONES for gag reflex inducing future Swillfests.   My faith in the American brewer has been tainted once again.

Only the “reserve beers” (Alaskan Summer Ale, Stumptown Tart, Fat Tire, etc) from the home stash saved the weekend from being a total Swill Ride.

This has to be the fiercest beer found in “regular-folks” circulation at grocery stores — you of course can get much odder, harsher beers at specialty stores and Trader Joe’s, but this is as far as you can go into dark cheek-biting beers that are stocked next to the baloney at Ralph’s. So I suspect that this beer is to potent stout beers as Avril Lavigne is to punk rock.  This beer is also the next in my Macarthur-Genius-Award winning series on Beers Whose Artwork Can Kick Your Ass.  And in this case, steal your soul and possibly lead to a communist revolution in your very home.  For those keeping track, this is Part 6 in the series, which includes four malt liquors, a viking, and now an indestructible quasi-priest with a serious beard.

And, I might add, serious cheek bite.  Holy mouth burn, does this beer bite!   You may want to go over your tongue with a pumice stone for a few minutes before drinking, just to warm up.  Certainly it’s not the biggest offender out there — specialty store stouts could bite your cheek twice as hard, I’m sure.  Somewhere, somebody is probably brewing some prototype Nuclear Stout that contains so much hops that not even light can escape, a beer that will blast your cheeks into next October, where they will suddenly reappear after you’ve learned to cope without them, reattach to your face and hurt like hell for the next twenty years.  But as far as beers that you can readily find during a trip to buy diapers, this is pretty sharp.  Not a bad taste, though — I do like stouts quite a bit (Guinness being my all-time favorite beer) and so it was definitely a good diversion from the usual horse pee I drink for entertainment’s sake on this site.  But I must ashamedly admit I bought it more for the label, once again suckered in by soul-less commercialism.  Isn’t that how Rasputin would have wanted it?

This has been a bad week for my stomach.  First, we went to the county fair, where I had — you better sit down for this — 1) a deep-fried twinkie, 2) deep-fried oreos, 3) deep-fried Spam, and best of all, 4) a deep-fried WHITE CASTLE BURGER.  I believe these are coincidentally the forms that the four horsemen of the apocalypse will take when they reappear on earth.  Fortunately for us all, I neutralized them with my stomach.  Then, I found this beverage.  It was a moment that will forever live in infamy, a moment that will have entire chapters devoted to it in my children’s high school history textbooks, a moment that as we speak is forming the foundations of new religions.  The moment that I found…   Budweiser and Clamato.   Yeah, that’s right — Budweiser, a perfectly normal, profitable company, has put out a product that consists of a can, a can that contains beer, tomato sauce, and clam juice.  The resulting concotion is salmon-colored, cloudy, and carbonated.   And it looked just as disgusting as it sloshed down the kitchen sink drain as it did sitting on the shelf in the store.

 Clamato, as I read in wikipedia, is a mix of reconstituted tomato juice concentrate, reconstituted dried clam broth, and high fructose corn syrup.   Oh, and MSG.  Who the hell decided they needed to add beer to the mix?  It’s apparently very popular, particularly in Canada, but it is easily THE WORST BEER I’VE EVER TASTED.  And keep in mind, I’m the guy who actually finished forty-ounce bottles of Schlitz, King Cobra, and something called “Country Club”.  I managed two sips of this abomination before I had to eat a mop to get rid of the flavor.  It takes quite a lot to disgust me, and the fine folks at Budweiser have done it.  I raise a glass of Tums to you in salute.

 Sadly, I had poured it all down the drain before I realized I had not maximized the potential of this drink — clearly, what it’s meant for is dipping sauce for deep-fried White Castles.  Maybe next year, unless I wise up before then.  If I could give this drink a negative six, I could, but let’s just say that my digestive system will never be the same…

Old Milwaukee… just sounds delicious, doesn’t it? This beer dates back before they named brews after snakes. I’m not sure if this is technically malt liquor or merely cheap beer, but I drank it from a 40-ounce bottle shaped like a Saturn rocket booster, so I’ll refer to it as the malt variety. Once Frosty hires a fact-checker for us, I’ll be more diligent in my terminology.

This one was not terrible, but it really stands out for fizziness. The “beer” was astoundingly carbonated. Just so much bubbles, fizz, and accompanying bloated feeling, that I wondered how much actual beer there was in the bottle along with the CO2. If it’s warmer this month than usual, blame my beer review for doubling the global warming effect. Malt liquors in general are more carbonated, and oddly carbonated, than regular old beer — you can tell that whereas a homebrewed beer, for example, contains bubbles from natural fermentation processes, malt liquors contain bubbles thanks to the support of some scary industrial surfactant. Needless to say, I was absolutely charming in the eyes of Mrs. Liquor that night, with my horrible beer breath and need to burp every 3 seconds.

What’s this I see on the label? Lo and behold, Old Milwaukee is brewed and distributed by Schlitz, which makes my least-favorite malt liquor to date. Given the flavors of both, it seems that Old Mil is the upscale, high-quality product, the Lexus to Schlitz’ Toyota. I’d drink this over Schlitz, but not much else — I really can’t recommend it for taste. If you’re entering a burping contest in the next 30 seconds, or you need to inflate a lot of backyard jumpy toys by hand this evening, I heartily recommend it. Otherwise, save your money, and save our world from more global warming!

Whats the only thing better than drinking beer? Drinking beer someone gives you! Ok, so maybe there are a few things better than drinking beer, but its sure nice when a generous coworker comes wandering by with a bottle of home brew for you to try. In this case, the brave soul was our own British expat, Jonathan Edwards. I had the pleasure of sampling one of the last bottles of dear Mr. Edwards Birthday Bitter, named in honor of both his birthday, and the birth of his cute little daughter Elizabeth.

Now, some of you who know me well may be wondering about me using the words “pleasure” and “Bitter” in the same sentence. I have been know in the past to strictly avoid Bitters, every since Grandpa Goodness had me try one that was the beverage equivalent of being punched in the teeth. So it was with a bit of trepidation and politeness that I geared up and gave Jonathan’s freshman brew a swig.

And wouldn’t you know it, as it turns out, Mr. Edwards has no idea how to brew a tooth punching Bitter. And I love him for it! This beer was really good. Despite its depressingly low alcohol content (2.6%!), it was a perfect complement to the Disney character shaped pasta the little Frosties and I had were having that evening. Full flavored, with a touch of hoppiness. After finishing it, Mrs. Goodness and I both remarked that it was very close in flavor to some of the Red Ales I enjoy. Kudos Jonathan, for renewing my faith in “Bitter” as a term not indicative of the experience of drinking it.

April is my birthday month and I am lucky enough to have good friends and family who love me. Sometimes people show their love and/or friendship in different ways. Some give kisses, some hugs, some bring the hard rocking. I am here to say nothing says love like the gift of beer. Frosty delivered a surprise package of three Ninkasi point twos (thanks to Liddell I know what that means). I’ve enjoyed the three distinct brews over the last few days.

In part one I’ll cover my favorite of the three; the Ninkasi Tricerahops Double IPA. But first, a little background on Ninkasi and my introduction to it.

I first heard of Ninkasi at John Barleycorn’s tavern in Tigard. I sat at the local McMenaman’s with my friend Ken listening to him, a fellow beer connoisseur, rant about how mediocre McMenaman’s beer is. Personally, I’ve never had a problem with a nice Rubinator (Terminator and Ruby) but I have encountered some interesting flavors in the past. In the end, I respect Ken’s opinion and like him, will continue to drink the swill the McMenemin brothers are serving.

As we were talking, Ken motioned to a nearby table interested in the conversation taking place. Evidently, the table guests were made up of some McMeniman’s big-wigs and the brewmaster from Ninkasi. Ken wondered what they could be talking about and pondered who it would be better for, McMenemin’s or Ninkasi. After a few minutes Jamie Floyd, Ninkasi brewmaster and owner, came over and said hi to Ken. Being fellow Eugenians they had met before. I was struck by how Jamie talked about his brews. He described them the way an artist talks about a series of paintings. He described them with beauty and vision. I had to try his beer. Its taken a few months and an especially painful close call at the Ship (in Multnohmah Village) but Frosty delivered Ninkasi to my doorstep.

So how does it taste damn it! Tricerahops Double IPA doesn’t disappoint. The first thing that took me was the complexity of the flavor. Hops for sure, but not just hops. Many brewers think they can create a great IPA  just by doubling or tripling the hops. Lagunitas and Rogue have been able to do it successfully but most fail with thundering cheek-smash.

Ninkasi Tricerahops Double IPA is a work of art.

This is Chris McGowen. Everyday that you go to work and your computer doesn’t die a horrible death from viruses and botnets (assuming you use McAfee), you should be thanking Chris.

Personally, every time I’m thirsty and am looking for solid alcoholic beverage to chill with on the patio, I thank Chris. Cause by golly, does this guy brew some tasty beer. Not just tasty, but in a true nod to the comfort in his manliness, a fruity beer. Very fruity, and perfect for a warm evening BBQ, or for boozing up your lady for a night of lovin’.

Chris’s entry was a tasty ruby ale that we at the Goodness have name “Ruby McGowen”. The name makes me think of one of those waitresses you’d order pie from in a Texas diner. Sweet, but with a hint of sharpness if you push her. In this case, Ruby had a cool, sharp flavor on first sip, then went down with a mellow fruitiness.

And unlike some fruity beers I’ve had, it had no sugary aftertaste to sicken the palette. (McMenamins!!) All in all a worthy brew that I hope I can con Chris into giving me some more of.

As an aside, I would like to acknowledge my restraint on not making a joke after I wrote the words “went down with a mellow fruitiness”, as well as give a mild taunt to the one called “Jilot”. Mr Packer, along with Chris himself, claimed that Ruby was overly “heady”. Well my friends, take a look at the picture of this pour. I call it skill. Or perhaps a testament to how much I drink…

Welcome folks to the first installment of a new series here on Frosty Goodness, the “He brews beer” collection. Quite a few of our fellow drunkards have begun brewing beer of their own, and we would be remiss if we didn’t highlight the ups and downs of their foray into garage speakeasies. So without further ado, lets begin.

This is Doug Boyer. Doug is a great guy, and when not coming up with ways to make our livers swim, is actually in charge of shaping our future as a big wig at a local school. Doug’s submission into the always dangerous hands of Frosty Goodness was a dark and tasty porter that we at the Goodness have officially named “Boyer Bathroom Porter“. (More on the name later)

Many of you no doubt know that I am no real fan of porters. They tend to have this “gristle” taste to them, as if someone just shoved a bunch of junk in a pot and cooked it until it stopped wiggling. I have had in my day, a few good ones. But until I sat on an empty stomach in Doug’s kitchen and drank 20 or so ounces of this beer, it had been really shaky. Kudos to Doug then for curing my fear of the dark yummy roast. BBB as we’ll call it for short, was super drinkable, had a yummy “toasty” flavor, and gave me a wicked buzz that carried all the way up to me putting my swooning head to bed. Luckily for me, if not for my liver, I walked away with “one for the road”.

In revisiting from above, why the name “Boyer Bathroom Porter”? Well, I really hope it had it’s brown color before the fermentation process. Because as it turns out, Doug did his fermenting in the downstairs family bathroom. Which as I told him, is a statement that is really a joke in itself.

After reading about Frosty’s “Stump Tart”, I went on a swilling run to Haggen and raided their beer stash.

I didn’t find any of the fruity Bridgeport swill in stock, but I did stumble across two nice surprises:

Fraoch Heather Ale - I expected horrible things to happen in my mouth when thinking about tasting this, but my love for Celtic culture made me ignore my misgivings.

It turns out that I was correct to not listen to my brain when selecting beers. This stuff is fantastic; even at $4.50 a bottle! It’s very well balanced and easy to drink. You can almost taste a little bit of the heather flowers this stuff is brewed with. So, if Frosty can go fruity, I can go flowery and call it a good day of swillage. The world takes all types, flavors, and colors.

Coopers Brewery Sparkling Ale - The sparkly name on this puppy (paying homage to Frosty’s shiny beer choice recently), and it’s decent single-bottle price tag made it worth a shot to try. Another blast over the outfield fence here.

It’s not quite as “clean” as the Fraoch stuff, but it’s still infinitely drinkable and tasty. It’s got a little bit of yeasty funkiness, but it works well in a beer this clean tasting. It’s Australian even.

My two forays into the world of other-worldly, or other-country-ly, beers was a distinct success and renewed my faith that there are still great, if previously unknown, beers to try on the shelf at your favorite swill emporium. Both worked well with the smoked salmon spread on crackers that the wife and I had for a late-night TV viewing snackfest. Both even tasted good with the apples & caramel dip wehad for dessert.

If you had to choose only one of these two beers as your choice for a dying wish beer, go for the Fraoch Heather Ale! You’ll die with a foamy, Heathery smile on your face, even having never been with Heather Graham before your demise.

This Swill Jockey was glad to have hopped in the beer saddle last night. Two solid 5s here.