Just the other day I saw a Twitter tout heralding the forthcoming release of a beer called Pink Guava Gose (brewery unknown), which I was informed is to be absolutely crucial given the impending arrival of warmer weather.
Um, well – NO, but before I go any further, a disclaimer.
It’s true that I wouldn’t drink Pink Guava Gose with Franklin Graham’s mouth, or for that matter, with any other theocratic fascist enabler’s Taco Hellhole.
However, you’re certainly welcome to do so.
Please be my guest and pay premium shipping costs to acquire cans of Pink Guava Gose from its point of origin somewhere out west. Rate it and post on RateAdvocate. Pump up the numbers, and help this beer go viral. I sincerely hope the brewery makes bank, and consumers achieve the ever-decreasing sliver of temporary happiness that defines our selfie-driven epoch.
In fact, if the Gose is available in some semblance of its essential, unadulterated native Leipzig essence, without a tiki bar grafted to it, then I’d love to have a sample.
It reminds me of a digression from 2017.
In my current frame of mind, what makes so many contemporary beer drinking venues unrewarding isn’t bad beer. On the contrary, there’s lots more good beer than ever before.
Rather, it’s feeling like a lab rat, as though you’re part of an ongoing experiment in anxiety escalation; like an arms race, always hoppier, sourer, stronger and plain weirder; the wheel constantly revolving, with so little upon which to hang one’s metaphorical chapeau for longer it takes to blow one keg (invariably a sixth barrel), before the next beer begins pouring the diametrical opposite.
In my current job at Pints&union, I’m perfectly willing to throw a few ringers into the beer lineup, which otherwise remains somewhat more predictably fixed than at most area establishments. Maybe even a Pink Guava Gose, although I’m squirming uncomfortably typing these words.
But you see, Pink Guava Gose no longer can be considered revolutionary. My personal contrarian’s theory of beer availability is when the pendulum swings in one direction to such an extent that it’s the norm, it’s time to hurry over to the vacated terrain and own it.
It’s quite possible that by May, Pints&union has a third Fuller’s ale on tap: ESB, the one we wanted to begin with, in 2018, except now it appears the importer actually can manage to persuade Monarch/Reyes (the wholesaler) to carry ESB on a regular basis.
I’ll quite happily pour Fuller’s ESB instead of Whatever Brewing’s Pink Guava Gose, and I’ll keep it there so those who appreciate classicism can develop a proper, loving relationship.
Guess I’m just an old-fashioned values kind of guy.
