Brewery 26’s West Kolsch is up today and it’s got most of the qualities I look for in a Kolsch; faint sourdough bread nose, easy drinking qualities with a clean finish. This maybe has just a pixie shake of lemon in there? I think there is, and I”ll allow it.
It’s not as clear as I’d expect but I am finding myself hard pressed to care that the visuals are not perfect. I brew; visual representation is the last thing I check on.
The West Kolsch feels a little thin, though. Not quite watery, but not as malty as I might like. However, finding a good Kolsch is hard and this is definitely a good one. I’m nitpicking; I like this beer and I’ll have another.
There’s a Primus song that goes “funny thing about weekends when you’re unemployed: they don’t mean quite so much, ‘cept you get to see your workin’ friends.”
In a similar way, time has started to get weird for me. I’m fortunate enough to go into work daily-everyone except me works from home-and things still seem weird. For others, I imagine it’s getting stranger.
Welcome to the pandemic, America, week 3.
This was the week that some of my friends really felt it: the knowledge that this is the new normal sank into their bones. Not a one of them was pleased, and I don’t blame them a bit.
It all came out in different ways; the worst thing for me was that there wasn’t anything I could do to help, beyond witnessing their anguish. It will hit me too, I know. It’s just a matter of time.
A slow motion apocalypse like this one has put the spotlight on what we can and cannot do alone, what we should expect from people who lead and what a failure of leadership looks like, and what kindness, bravery, and intelligence can do for us, at every level.
Across the street, a couple neighbors chat, a healthy distance away from each other. But at least they’re conversing. They’re joking about the crisis they were expecting, instead of the one they got.
Ain’t we all.
Today’s second pint goes to the United Farm Workers.