It’s Friday night, work is done for the week, and it’s finally time for some brewski. Tonight we’ll be tasting that one sixpack I bought last week before the discovery of the Old Style Krausened new recipe. It was lunchtime today and I walked out to the Manly Garage for a freezer meal. I grabbed an Italian Panini (panina, to be absolutely correct) and the sixpack from the beer fridge. This particular sixer consisted of a population of green bottles from Canada’s Oldest Independent Brewery, namely Moosehead Lager which was priced at $5.99. Why do these brewers bottle their beer in green bottles when they all know that light destroys beer and green lets more light into the bottle? I don’t know either.
When I got back into the house, I grabbed one of the greenies and had a look the label. Crap. This beer is frozen. I could plainly see that the bottle was two-thirds ice inside. 50% of the cache was frozen. I placed the sixer on a towel on the floor in the kitchen and gave refrigeration instructions to my wife. “Keep an eye on these and…” “I know, I know.” We’ve had a rather harsh winter here in the Land of Lincoln but thankfully, it hasn’t penetrated inside the the house.
At work, I fretted about those frozen beers. Maybe the freezing will alter the taste. But I had three unfrozen beers to compare. Surely I’d know if there was a difference. But what about the green bottles? Will that be a factor in the taste?
All those questions will be answered, I thought, as I grabbed the first bottle of Canadian Moosehead after work. As I was pouring the beer into the mug it looked as if it was starting out to be a bit flat, so I raised the bottle higher to hopefully create some suds and… damn! I overflowed it a little onto the desk. The beer was a rather pale yellow but had lots of micro-bubbles rising from the bottom. The head was thick and creamy, but I don’t know if that was a consequence of the violent pour I subjected it to or inherent to the beer. The aroma was beery, with a slight tinge of skunk. Alas, another beer in a green bottle.
The first sip went down and I tasted the sweetness up front and the slight skunkiness in the back. Not overwhelmingly bad, but there nonetheless. The beer definitely has some flavor to it but that ever so slight hint of white-striped rodent was the main detractor. The taste is rather full and the sweetness puts a nice face to it. The skunk adds a wart right there on the side of the nose.
By the time I was part way into the second bottle, my mouthy parts became accustomed to the flavor. That flavor remained this beer’s best feature. Nice and full with the sweet. And still with the skunk. Enough. I think you get the picture.
Ya know what I think? I think that these skunky, green-bottled beers, such as this Moosehead, and others like Beck’s, Heineken, and even Corona are brewed just for the bottle drinkers who just drink for the buzz. The aroma never gets a chance to come out and the beer doesn’t breathe when it’s drunk straight from the bottle. If it wasn’t for that little skunklet, this Moosehead would be a decent beer.
If you’re a Moosehead drinker, the next time you’re going to have your first one, pour it into a beer glass first. Then drink it from the glass. Get your nose into it. You’ll see what I mean.