Volume 3, Issue 13
June 21 - July 4, 2001

The drunks of the round table met at Old Chicago one Sunday (what the restaurant destroys with corporate schmaltz, it makes up for with an extensive beer list) to tour the world from the outside in. We had all been working on our individual assignments for a week, so our beer palates were lubed up and ready for the greatest challenge: 12 very different beers in one night. Unfortunately, our compadre from Colorado Springs, Ben, was stranded by a broken motor vehicle. Fortunately, that just meant more for the rest of us.

After explaining our mission to a slightly befuddled (but game) waitress, we jumped right in with a round of lagers (apples to apples) from the four corners of the globe.

ROUND 1 (INTERNATIONAL)

Kirin Lager (Japan) $3.25
Steinlager (New Zealand) $4.95
Corona (Mexico) $3.25
Red Stripe (Jamaica) $3.50

Right off the bat, we got a bitter beer face from Lodore with Kirin. The brew had the same skunks-n- farts first impression as Heineken sometimes does, or maybe Grolsch. Phil insisted it tasted Italian, which brought to mind a battle of the noodles on "Iron Chef" ... but I digress. The table dubbed it "the reason to drink sake," and we were already hunting around for food to cleanse our palates.

Steinlager, besides being the most fun name to say (try it with a Sean Connery accent), brought high hopes to the table. First of all, it came in a massive 22-ounce bottle. Secondly, it came from Down Under. Now, Americans expect certain things from Australia: silly accents, bastardized Western wear, and hard core liquor. Apparently, what makes New Zealand different from Australia is that they lack hard core liquor. Steinlager got the "making love in a canoe" award (fucking close to water) from Phil. I was just disappointed it didn't curl my tongue up and give me an accent, or that it didn't taste like kiwi, or that it didn't make me want to wrestle bodybuilders in rugby shirts. Lodore said, "It tastes like aftertaste." If that. It comes in such a big bottle because you'll need that much just to get a buzz going.

To smooth over our diappointment, we went straight for the old familiar: Corona. The king of Mexican beers, Corona is one of the few macrobrews to live up to its own commercials. It was the most drinkable, and had a warm aftertaste. Our food also showed up at this point, so we all hunkered in with burgers, fries, and comfortable beer. (Point of service: we got no limes. That's a cardinal sin.)

Now we were ready to tackle the wild and unusual again. Red Stripe was more evocative of its homeland than Steinlager. It had an apple juice smell, and tasted quite sweet for a lager. This isn't surprising since Jamaica is the home of original root beer and ginger ales. We were all happy ... in fact, giggling happy. Lodore suggested there must be a little Bob Marley in every bottle. We tried to peel off the label to see if Marley's head was painted on the back in black velvet, but it turned out the label was painted on, like Corona's. At this point, we knew we needed a break.

ROUND 1 RESULTS: a three way tie. Phil, in a surprise move, picked Kirin. Lodore went with Corona. I chose Red Stripe. No clear winner meant one clear loser... STEINLAGER SUCKS.

ROUND 2 ( UNITED STATES)

The menu said it came from Kentucky. The name suggested it came from Mississippi. The label said it came from Tennessee. Wherever it came from, send it back. Mississippi Mud arrived in miniature jugs with wee little handles and a label with an alligator on it. Beer drinker's rule of thumb: the fancier the bottle, the crappier the beer. Lodore: "Hey, it does taste like mud!" Spoofing the label text, Phil said it "ruins the traditions of both English porter and Continental pilsner," and declared it, like Newcastle, "a dark beer for people who hate dark beer." The recipe did seem to be mostly food coloring. There was a strong hint of prune juice ... hmmm, maybe the Mississippi Mud part kicks in the day after. Aside from reminding us what floor cleaner smells like, and making Lodore want to start a jug band, this beer was useless.

We thought something strong was in order next, so we dove right in to the Grant's Scottish Ale. Grant's is a reputable brewery from Yakima (Lodore prounounces it 'yarmulke'), Washington, so our guard was down. The very first sip turned to glue on the back of my tongue. It was instant cottonmouth. I never thought I'd say this, but this is a beer that should be watered down. Lodore read the foam like tea leaves, took two sips, then began licking Phil's shirt. Phil just shrugged and said it was "hoppy." Yeah, understatement. I ate a dill pickle to get rid of the taste. The glue was still there. If you have a household project coming up, just remember that a six pack of Grant's Scottish Ale and a little saliva creates one powerful epoxy.

The tunnel grew darker. We moved on to Dixie Blackened Voodoo Lager, possibly the world's first and only Goth beer. Despite being a lager, Dixie (brewed in New Orleans, natch) tasted very much like an ale, and was extremely sweet. Lodore declared she'd rather drink a cocktail. We all studied the label as if it would answer our burning questions. How is it 'blackened'? Is it lager? What's the voodoo part? Are we drinking chicken blood? The label said nothing. Well, it did say, "According to the Surgeon General, women should not drink alcoholic beverages during pregnancy because of the risk of birth defects."

Just when we were beginning to think there was no decent beer anywhere to be found in America, we came to Santa Fe Pale Ale. Arefreshing unfiltered ale with light hops and minimal aftertaste, we were ready to jump out of our booth and order a case after the last three fiascos. Since it's easier to complain than praise, and this beer offered nothing to complain about, we settled in and enjoyed it to the last drop. The big surprise: it's actually brewed in Santa Fe, not made in Albuquerque then covered up with a more chic locale.

ROUND 2 RESULTS: It was unanimous ... SANTA FE PALE ALE RULES.

ROUND 3 ( COLORADO)

This round went considerably fast for a few reasons. First, we had already consumed eight beers (well, seven beers and one Steinlager). Second, our photographer, Sean, showed up and immediately regaled us with stories of prison-style dry humping. Yes, beer is fun to talk about, but prison-style dry humping is going to dominate any conversation it comes up in. Our comments were few and far between, and my notes are mostly unintelligible, but plow on we must, for the good of mankind. Banshee Gold Ale kicked it off with a strong honey flavor that had Phil crying foul: "Too sweet!" Then again, this is the guy who picked skunky Kirin. Lodore declared it the first white zinfandel beer in existence. We enjoyed it, but not that much.

Left Hand Sawtooth left us mostly speechless. Phil and I loved it ... a good strong ale with enough character to stand out even after all the others. Lodore just made her bitter beer face. At about this time, our bladders broke, so frequent trips to the bathroom were giving us a better lay of the land. Our table was littered with bottles (we insisted the bus boy leave them there as trophies). Lodore reported that the women's bathroom featured a vending machine dispensing Obi tampons and Looney Toons temporary tattoos ... which led to some questionable comments about Yosemite Sam mud flaps, if you get my drift.

Jarre Creek brought our attention back to beer, mostly to make fun of it. This supposed Honey Brown had no scent, no honey, no nuts (" nut'n honey"), and no reason for living. And it was brewed in Douglas County, home of Jurassic Park Meadows and golf course neighborhoods. I was just surprised that something coming out of Douglas County actually had color. Phil wondered if we weren't drinking the first case ever brewed (the label contends Jarre Creek has been brewing since way back in 1997). It all adds up to some rich fart with an expensive brewing hobby who managed to sucker Old Chicago into carrying his product. This was even less of a beer than Steinlager. It should have been called Jarre Creek New Zealand Brew. It should have at least come in a fancy bottle. Ptui.

Finally, we braved another Scottish Ale, Laughing Lab from Colorado Springs. Thankfully, Bristol is a damn fine brewery, and this one didn't glue our mouths shut. A great beer to finish off the evening, and we decided to let the comments rest and drink beer the way it was meant to be enjoyed -- as a drink, not a conversation topic.

ROUND 3 RESULTS: Aside from realizing Colorado has better breweries than the rest of the United States combined, we split on the vote. Phil and I went with Left Hand's strong Sawtooth, while Lodore sided with her sweet tooth and chose Banshee Gold Ale. Since it's a democracy, the decision is final ... LEFT HAND SAWTOOTH ROCKS.

--Chris J. Magyar

The LAGERS

I am a total beer snob, but not the kind you're thinking of. I do not sit around swirling and sniffing my ever-dark imported beer thinking about which meal it would go best with ... instead I suck down Budweiser and only Budweiser, like it's my job. Luckily enough, for this week it sort of was!

Let me start with that blue-collar lager-- Budweiser. I would recite the "hail Bud" on the label, but I'm confident you all know it from high school parties. Bud is cheap and very light so it's great for summer chugging, easily done with this beer. The buzz factor is low, but if you're planning a day in the sun it works well.

Mmmmm, Sam Adams lager ... a Boston treat. Way too heavy and hoppy for me. (If you are unsure what hoppy tastes like, think of sucking on a penny under your tongue and add a little sour. Ick.) Sam is alright, but he sure costs a lot for such a snitty little bitch. The only thing he's got going for him is the medium-high buzz factor.

Miller Genuine Draft is the beer I drink when I want a better buzz and I'm feeling snooty. It tastes better than Bud ... a little heartier and a little sweeter, and it's very chuggable. The best beer I ever had was MGD. Nothing like little tiny ice crystals in your beer when it's 95 degrees and dusty! Mmm mmm good.

Coors. Even I ... will concede ... that Coors "beer" ... is crap. You all know what it tastes like.

I never noticed before this weekend, but a freshly opened bottle of Heineken smells like farts! Luckily it tastes better than it smells. It's a little sweet and very chuggable with a decent buzz factor. It'd be perfect for people who can't quite be seen publicly with Budweiser or Coors, but can't make themselves like anything really good. By the by, any of you true beer snobs out there saying that Heinie is not a lager will be happy to know that it is actually a Pilsner hybrid, lager and pilsner (nanny nanny boo boo).

I had the pleasure of sampling an Indian lager, Taj Mahal (brewed in Banglador, India), and was completely shocked! I think if I could get it on tap I might drink it instead of my standby! It tastes kind of woody and fruity (no, not like the guy at the corner of Colfax and Washington) but is not overpowering. It has a very high buzz factor (much like the guy on the corner) and a high chuggability (don't even think it). It is a little thick for more than 3 steins, but by then you'll be drunk enough to move onto something you don't need to like ... Budweiser anybody? --Lodore Brown

photos by Sean Hartgrove Star ratings equal the number of pints one can comfortably enjoy in a sitting.

THE WHEATS

Wheat beers were certainly the biggest beneficiary of last decade's micro-brew boom, mostly because of the rich flavor of their recipe and the ability of the brewmaster to fling mad berries and honey into the mix with (somewhat) decent results. Drinkers who thought beer appreciation meant sampling something as unlike Bud Lite as possible flocked to thick unfiltered strawberry wheats, and before the world knew it another wine cooler craze had conquered liquor stores everywhere. Still, for beer lovers with a sweet tooth, wheat beer is the variety of choice.

1) O'Dell's Easy Street Wheat
The most popular and accessible wheat in the state, Easy Street comes with two hard and fast rules-- always drink it from the tap (never the bottle) and squeeze in a slice of lemon to bring out the taste. Easy Street is highly chuggable for a wheat, and settles the stomach like a stout ... yep, a beer that won't give you the munchies. There's enough fermented crap in it to keep any alcoholic in Buzzville, but the concoction isn't too thick to be enjoyed (see Widmer).

2) Sam Adams Cherry Wheat
Here we have one of those insidious flavored wheats, but since Sam Adams is a reputable brewery with some genuine craftsmen in employ, it's not as bad as it sounds. Just imagine what would happen if you left a can of Cherry Coke open for a year, then recarbonated it. The label promises a crisp finish, which is true if you think the finish comes when you stop sipping. A drinkable beer, but the aftertaste of "natural" cherry flavors will keep you from enjoying more than one at a time. If you're looking for a buzz, make sure your tolerance is rock bottom ... i. e. a good beer to drink when you reach the summit of that 14er.

3) Sierra Nevada Wheat
It comes with detritus in the bottom of every bottle, but this is a good thing in wheat beers, kind of like how it's okay to have chunks of apple skin in a jug of juice when you buy organic. Sierra Nevada's the best tasting brew of this sample, though slightly less buzz-inducing than O'Dell's. At least you won't have to slice up a lemon to get it down. The label (why do we read these things?) encourages pouring the bottle into a pint glass, but beware: Sierra Nevada strongly resembles regurgitated Guinness after a meal of applesauce. I just chug from the bottle, myself.

4) Eddie McStiff's Moab Blueberry Flavored Wheat Beer
Oh my God, I drank a muffin. This batter in a bottle is easily the worst sludge masquerading as beer I've ever attempted to swallow. There's a blueberry beforetaste, duringtaste, aftertaste ... don't be surprised if you piss purple after a few sips. It was chewy, my friends. Chewy. Being brewed in Utah, I suspect this beer is a secret plot on the part of Mormons to get people to swear off drinking forever. It almost worked. Despite valiant (some would say foolhardy) effort, I was forced to use it as sink Dran-O in the end; to nobody's surprise, the beer was streaked purple and white in color, like a bad Cyndi Lauper haircut. The worst part: it didn't even unclog the drain.

5) Widmer Heffeweisen
The only German-style wheat here, and for good reason. People argue American beers are just a pale imitation of the Belgian and German forefa-thers, but when it comes to wheats, give me the statesides any day of the week. Widmer's a decent enough beer, with a good taste when leavened with lemon, but it's thicker than pudding and causes gas something fierce. I can only imagine the cacophony of a German dinner table -- bratwurst and Widmer could have been combined by the Nazis to beat us in the nuclear arms race. The brew does pack a powerful punch, but that's nullified by the water you need to quench the thirst it causes.

THE STOUTS

1) Guinness Extra Stout
Guinness is the benchmark by which all other stouts are measured. Thick and dark, this is a beer to be savored, not pounded in the back seat of a Camaro in the dance club parking lot. It is worth while to try and find one of the few bars in Denver that will serve you a draught Guinness (or "draft" if that is a little too European for you) at the proper temperature. Don't start squealing "ew, warm beer!" like a bunch of pantywaists. It really does taste better when you don't try to numb your taste buds. As an added bonus, if you find a bar that will serve you a proper Guinness, chances are the bartender will be enlightened enough to pour your stout slowly, rather than like a Budweiser, so you don't end up with half a glass of foam.

2) St. Peter's Stout
This was a new one for me, and while I am always up for a new beer, what really caught my eye was the old-fashioned bottle. Okay, I am a sucker for a good package design. The beer was a little less notable. The label supplies the standard marketing tripe about medieval recipes and drafty old castles turned brewery. While the St. Peter's was a pretty good beer, it was definitely not what I expect in an English stout. It was like a mix of stout and ale: too light for a stout, and too dark for an ale. This one is unusual, and I think it is worth a try.

3) Fuller's London Porter
I don't think Fuller's makes a bad beer. I guess it should have it figured out after 150 years. This one is the granddaddy of porters: great rich flavor, and good texture make this one a real treat. The London Porter also has a pretty good kick on it for a porter. It always sneaks up on me. Man, I wish I had one right now. Bars in Denver that have this on tap are few and far between. Unlike Guinness, this one is fine out of the bottle. Even if your local liquor store runs "rise and shine" malt liquor specials like mine does, you should still be able to track this one down.

--Phil Mann

THE REDS

Let me start. Anyone willing to pucker up to a red bitter lager is either nihilistic, or an utter masochist. Bitter, straddled with his adjectival companions tart, acrid, pungent. The idea contrasts words like sweet, honey, candy, pilsner. I've tarried through hell, bounded through France, sucked on a red rocket, and finally it's Sunday night. All I have to show is a flushed face, and a fridge full of Keystone Light.

1) Killarney's
Killarney's, or "it's like Red Budweiser," went down pleasantly curt. Kelley, my cute little research assistant, said giddily, "Ooooh, I like that one, it's sweet like a ditzy blond. You strap her in the back seat and peep at her boobs every few seconds because they're fake, empty, and beautiful." We both had a pint before the appetizer, chugged two more before the entrée, and laughed at the waitress adjusting her bra.

2) Red Rocket
A Colorado fare is Bristol's Red Rocket. The movie theatre blared Elton John in the foyer, and reeled up Quills, those sadists. I have no other comment, except that Geoffrey Rush should have sucked on a bottle of Red Rocket, and perhaps his Mr. Pokey could have been a rocketman.

3) Fuller ESB
The European contestant sauntered to the table, followed by an icy beaker. Her smooth and supple body crashed into the glass, churned seductively, and finally settled, kissing the bottom of the mug. My sober fingers groped and ravaged the beer. I lustfully sipped and swallowed, until the hops bounced in my belly. The second slurp was less attractive, and the third repulsive. But that first unmitigated pleasure was like some bimbo from Europe running off with your husband. Good for a cheap trick, but long term ... yeah right. You're already perched in southern France lippin' a glass of vino with no one but Jacques the bouncer, and Julia the nun.

4) Red Wolf
The most ignominious purchase was Red Wolf on a Sunday morning (since 7-11 was the only shot at beer for brunch). Like my faketoothed granny, Red Wolf has a wicked gnawing bite. The beer rapes your taste buds, and leaves your throat wondering for what does it deserve to serve such pennance. The grizzly wolf on the label must have imbued this crap, because he froths rabidly, daring you to drink the insipid red neck trash. It's as if I'd crossed the river Styx. At first, hell is merely a place where we unenlightened souls reside bearably unconsolable because we didn't know any better. Then you start to feel like a malicious renegade, knowing full well the consequences. And finally you turn into a purely depraved masochist, habitating a perditious world. But, I had to finish my beer.

5) Killian's Irish Red
No one ever decides to study urban rural development, but you stumble to grad school, toxic from the previous night, finally relating to the down and out farmer. You empathize with his passion for Killian's and feel an exorbitant woe. Why should he pay his taxes, when the government won't subsidize hemp? Pastoral poverty stares at him, toying with his helplessness. "I'm not trained to sow, or reap what I sow. How cow do you bow to sows from your trough? I wasn't taught that in grammar school. I was teached to snort cocoa, and save my heroines." You cry to him from your $250k house, weeping that there aren't enough supermarkets, and he can't harvest his crops, and the bars are closed, and the Killian's has been poured all over your hemp rug.

--Ben Harvey