7pm Success

Bailey’s had an event tonight for Block 15 brewery. Now, don’t get me wrong; It’s awesome to see a place I love be successful. I’m not sixteen anymore, I don’t feel weird when someone else loves my favorite band.

But jebus people, I need a place to write! Clear a path for a man who has things to do, ya drunks!

/kidding

I work my way through the cue and step up to order: “Hey,” I’m recognized, “you’re a great person for T- to buy a beer for!”

I am? What’s the occasion?

“He’s moving away!” I’m told, as I place my order for the Ferme de la Provision a farmhouse ale with honey adde.

Where are you moving to? I ask, since my benefactor is sitting right there. He shakes his head, “I’m not moving,” he says with his mouth: with his tone he ruefully says, “Bar talk!”

I don’t press on because it’s not my place and I’m taking up valuable ordering space, but thank him for the ale and find a place to stand, sneaking a spot on the rail long enough to take a picture.

This has an orange rind funk that I’d suspect a farmhouse ale to have but the actual beer works like a saison, with a peppery dryness. The middle resembles more a golden than a wheat so it’s a little thin. It’s not bad but I feel somehow that it would be good with contrasts, especially a nutty one. This could totally be a lowbrow beer, eaten with peanuts for some salty/citrus ringside matches in your mouth, or paired with something fancier and lighter, maybe a meringue with almond shaved over it. But by itself, I just want something to eat and I suspect that’s because the body isn’t quite as robust as I might like..

Since I was fortunate to get my first drink free, I shift to the Imagine, a bourbon barrel stout which is everything I love about this style: chocolate nose into oaky mouth with a hint of bubbles on the finish, contrasting the warm alcohol trend making this feel a lot more like a porter. It’s easy to drink–too easy–and I’m rarely thankful for the price tag on a beer but in this case I’ll make an exception, because it throws up a big warning sign, even if nothing else does. The Imagine melts over my tongue, that’s how good it is and if I had an extra twenty bucks and nowhere to go tomorrow, I’d just have two of those and call it a night.