Taste of the Month: Anheuser Busch American Ale
If you’re like me, you try your best to stay loyal to any and all breweries that reside in your hometown– large or small, corporate or privately owned. This was never a problem for me, a lifetime St. Louisan, even with the recent South American takeover of Anheuser Busch. Since that fateful day when Carlos Brito, head hancho over at InBev, sucked the life from the city’s greatest and most emblazoned symbol, I have heard the mutinous cries of my fellow natives that denounce allegiance to Anheuser Busch.
Frankly, I never will see the point. What am I supposed to buy? Miller Lite?
Unless Brito suddenly decides to feverishly cut costs, I will continue to enjoy AB products, my favorite of which is Michelob Amber Bock, a deliciously rich blend of ambrosia and nectar. A faithful patron of dark beers for a long time now, I have seldom strayed from Amber Bock since it fulfills my two-pronged obligation. Imagine my glee, then, when I learned of the newly released American Ale, an AB product drastically unlike any other they offer.
Purchased at my neighborhood Circle K, the American Ale, which runs for a robust $6.99 per six-pack, comes in an attractive, oblong-shaped bottle situated in an eye-grabbing package. Upon first taste, the Cascade hops–grown in the Pacific Northwest–flutter with delight across your palate, finally settling down to make way for an enjoyable finish. Initially, American Ale is a picture-perfect duplicate of Killian’s Red. However, upon further inspection, the after-taste emits a distinct hint of full-bodiness and slight bitterness that makes this ale like no other.
You think I’m full of shit, don’t you? If so, buy a sixer and see for yourself. Or you can trust the reviews of people who actually seem to know what they are talking about at Beer Advocate.
Your Bartender’s a Liar
I can justify not trusting the government, and I certainly have no problem harboring dissention towards that friend who may have or may have not co-conspired with your wife in a steamy affair. In a day when money-grubbing oil tycoons resemble hypothetical sodomists and Uncle Sam is too busy giving out handouts to give a damn, it’s comforting to know you can always seek temporary solace in the company of your friendly drink-slinger at your favorite establishment. Well, no more, my friend, because Smart Money is hear to effectively ruin the rest of your life. As it turns out, that set of sympathizing eyes across the bar is no more concerned for your well-being than the snifter of Glenlivet in your hand. To make matters more appalling, not only is your bartender a heartless shell of a human, but he/she is withholding precious information that just may force you to get back on that wagon. Read the full article…
With the advent of another college football season on the horizon, you must become acquainted with being well lubricated on Saturday afternoons…and the occasional Wednesday, Thursday and Friday evening. Here now to help you map your quest, as well as numb the sting of listening to Brent Musburger for another season, is my guide to all the luscious flavors and intoxicating aromas the fall months have to offer. Even more, each has its own distinct way of tickling your palate right before it shoots down your gullet and induces unadulterated bliss, which, unfortunately, sometimes leads to admission of repressed man-love for Kirk Herbstreit.