During craft beer week, nearly everyplace worth drinking at is crowded to drink at and Ground Breaker is no exception…except at the rail. The tables are all full so I gleefully take a spot by myself, to take advantage of a chance to be alone in a crowd.
I got the imperial IPA at Ground Breaker because it’s their first imperial IPA and I want to know how it is. Some nights, it isn’t a complicated decision. And the nose is so good. So good! Flowery and a bit of pine, there’s a hint of fresh forest here that has me looking forward to the rest of this beer.
Unfortunately, there’s a medicinal note on the finish. I want to like this beer; it has a solid hop bite and the nose is great. It does what I want an IPA to do with just one notable flaw. It’s a flaw I can’t overlook however. So I rinse my mouth with water and try it again.
Nope. There it is, on the edges of the back corners of my tongue, a taste of medicine, of something that is there to stop my sniffling and sneezing so I can rest flavor instead of hops.
Damnit. I normally would have the Dark ale, which I really like: the chestnut flavor is not only unique but delicious and I have always enjoyed it. I don’t regret taking a chance on a new thing; that’s one of the glories of loving craft beers but it’s a bummer when the beer comes so close to the mark and misses.
Interesting 1st paragraph. I would venture to say that it is the near-misses that make for interesting drinking – and conversation/writing. Somebody once said something like: good families are all the same. Bad families are bad in their own unique way. Wish I could remember that more accurately. Point is still in the quote. I mean, it sounds like you enjoyed, even liked, the beer but it has flaws, like a friend. Could’ve had another but it was time to go: the friend’s flaws had been too prominent on this night.