Whatever You Say 53/Second Pint PRM

I walked to the Zoiglhaus tonight. I’m meeting friends and hoping to get there early so I can write a bit and I have succeeded. But the walk here was akin to wandering through a Mad Max territory, replacing winter for desert.

Portland does not do snow very well. It’s understandable; they haven’t had to until ’12, really, but now it seems like there’s at least one bad winter storm a year and the temps get downright chilly.

It has an effect on my brain, too; I go out walking during these conditions and I start to get very neo-noir detective, a not quite as tough character from a James Ellroy novel. “Empty bottles skidding across the pavement in the wind, the rattle of the skittering plastic sounding like the lost hopes and dreams of once a great city…” That sort of thing.

Fortunately for everyone, rain is expected tomorrow and we should be more or less back to our normal selves then.

There’s only one man at the rail this evening, and he bears more in common with a neo-Viking than with me; military close cropped hair and a blonde beard that goes halfway down to his sternum. He’s got a couple bottles of the schwarzbeir near him and I’m hesitant because smoke beers are hit and miss, but the theme is the theme. Into the breach, my friends!

“I’m having the Doppelsticke.”

Whew. Unfortunately, the concentration I spent on coming up with bad noir metaphors meant that I forgot to take a picture of my beer. It’s a cloudy brown, like overindulgent chocolate milk, served in a snifter style glass. There isn’t much head on it, which I always feel is a dubious sign.

The Doppelsticke is not giving me much in the nose, just faint malt roast, but it’s got some weight to it, sticky, sweet, a blend of coffee and chocolate, it both feels a little hot at 8.9% and finishes with a chalky quality that I can’t get down with.

I don’t hate this but it seems like something went awry here.

Today’s second pint goes to the Portland Rescue Mission.

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