Burnside’s Sunsplash Kolsch with ginger, orange zest and sorrel is my order. I can’t pick anything up on the nose and that’s pretty detrimental to the beer. With that many flavors, I should get something, right? This muted presence runs through the beer as well and that isn’t good. Is there anything wrong with it? No, not to my tongue. But all I get is a little tingle on the right side, on the tip. I can’t pick up anything involving flavor at all.
Which is a disappointing end to what has been a disappointing week. Earlier in the week, a I had been on a date with a lady who decided to give me a kiss at the end. That was rather nice, as one might expect. She’s since ghosted on me and while I don’t blame her for it, you can’t help but feel a little rejected.
Because it feels like I did something wrong. Even if I didn’t, exactly. So time spent wondering what-if instead of looking forward is…well, it’s wasted but the brain is a funny thing, sometimes.
So I am spending the dusk of Summer at Bailey’s with this beer that I don’t understand.
On my way here, I walked by Brewed Oregon as it was closing up, the clerk sweeping the dust out the door a dog was helpfully standing in, checking everyone out.
As I passed by the dog took a step towards me and I stopped.
“Are you friendly?” I asked, hunching over a little, holding my arm out, palm up.
“Too friendly,” the clerk said.
But the dog gave my hand a couple sniffs and looked at me skittishly, sniffed a little more. I motioned my hand as though to pet the dog, but it shied away.
“Ah, it’s OK.” I said. Still, you can’t help but feel a little rejected.
A pint for Dionysus 