So I get the Pistol Fingers, a west coast IPA. The nose fades too quickly-before I’ve gotten my device opens to write about this beer, any hop nose has been replace by some malt qualities. Suddenly, there’s some alternate dankness to the beer too, and now I’m confused. I could’ve sworn I had a big whiff of just malt, but it’s all dank hops now. So maybe I was mistaken?
On my way to the pub tonight, I passed by someone who was walking two corgis; they had LED collars of red and purple, their stubby legs propelling them in the amusing way that corgis have.
It’s things like this that make me glad I walk a lot. I see people out and about, sometimes just moving from A to B, but often walking dogs. They’re civil and friendly and sometimes they even let me pet their dogs.
It’s hard to have a bad day, if you can pet an animal.
The flavors from the Pistol Fingers are a separate thing from the nose; the bitterness is more straightforward. There isn’t a citrus or forest tilt to them that I can pick up. There is a sweet malt moment but…I can’t quite pin it down. It’s not caramel-there’s nothing toasty enough in this beer to give me that. And the finish is starting to tilt a little vegetal, the more I sip.
It’s subtle though, showing up well after I’ve swallowed the beer. But something still ain’t quite right here.
At the next table a woman pulls a man close to her and says, “Thank you for marriaging me. You’re like, the only thing that doesn’t give me anxiety.”
And you know, there are forces that want us to feel anxious all the time. But…when I look up, I can’t help but think that most of us want to do good. We’ll do our best, if we are given clear, good information from someone we can trust.
It’s the erosion of trust that we have to combat the most. Because you have to trust people, if you want a world that isn’t rushing to extinction. Trust is the enemy of anxiety.
The second pint is definitely lacking on the nose. I triple checked it. I don’t think it’s the pour, either, but looking at it, this head is thinner than Trump’s toupee. C’mon people; IPAs are all but defined by two characteristics: the hops on the nose, and the bitterness on the finish. If you one-bun the thing, it’s either an adequate pale or a deeply challenging…something.
In the end, it’s just not an enjoyable beverage for me. Imbalanced and lacking dimension, the second beer has told me what I need to know.
Today’s second pint goes to Books to Prisoners.