“This isn’t,” a man with close cropped gray hair tells me, waving his hand at his drink, “it’s not your usual IPA,” he says of Thirsty Monk’s BBR IPA. He’s got a faintly Slavic accent but I don’t know nearly enough to place it and it’s gauche to ask. So I order the ale and thank him.
Soon after, a woman enters the pub, hugs him and they acquit themselves to a nearby table.
The bartender fills me in; he tells me that the BBR IPA is a collaboration between them and Crooked Stave brewing. A beer that started off as a Brut IPA was remixed with Crooked Stave’s house yeast, giving the nose a special kind of tart, and then rose petals and hibiscus added in, he informs me. It’s light, easy to drink, and not even close to what I think of when I think of an IPA.
But I would absolutely recommend it. The finish is dry in the way that white wine is, which almost , but not completely, covers the bitterness of the hops.
He then asks me about how I shaped my hat, which means I get to launch into the story of how I picked out and made my hat (a gray fedora made my Stetson and it’s awesome) work.
There are, my friends, two types of hats: hats that men buy to coordinate with particular outfits they wear, and hats that men relentlessly wear, regardless of the outfit they have on, until it becomes startling to see the person without the hat, it just is now a part of his features.
Neither is incorrect, but I have chosen the latter and my hat, with it’s warped brim and perpetually rising hatband, is definitely part of the latter crowd.
Today’s second pint goes to Books for Prisoners.