Quaffing

On Monday night I went out to Cafe Montmartre with some friends. They were all excited about the discounted wine prices but I stuck to beer. (Does this make me a prole?) It's certainly not that I dislike wine but I just can't drink a lot of it, especially the red, drier varieties that my compadres indulged in. One glass of the stuff and I've had my fill. Besides, there was the Nectar From New Glarus to be had. But then I discovered that Capital's new Island Wheat was available on tap and I just had to try it. (It won't be available in bottles until the spring.)

While I'm a lover of beer, I am no expert. Giving me the specific gravity of a brew to 100 decimal places would do little for my appreciation of it. I just know what I like, for the most part. The Island Wheat was pretty tasty but not tasty enough. Maybe the stuff I quaffed was from a bad batch, I dunno. I just know that it had a nice crisp and subtle flavor to it but it was too subtle. To be sure, I expect I'll be drinking some of it next July when I'm outside in 100 degree sun having a cigarette thanks to the tyrrany of the Left and it will prove to be remarkable refreshing. But, after one pint, that's about all I can say about it. No doubt I'll drink more to refine my opinion during the harsh winter months, though. I'm of Northern and Eastern European extraction. My ancestors didn't mess around with crisp, clean beers when they were freezing their asses off at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains or in the Black Forest. No, they drank heartier brews that pushed back the cold and Capital has plenty of those such as their Oktoberfest and Autumnal Fire.

A couple hours in, a woman named Maggie someone-or-other (I think) started playing music which seemed to capture the attention of everyone in the joint except us. While I don't want to be harsh considering we heard only a song or two, I found the music to be exceptionally boring. Heck, maybe it was also the mood of my group that made us anxious to escape from her rather joyless tunes. Charles having recently broken up with his girlfriend, was looking for escape as was the Chili Princess who was seeking our help in finding ways to dump her current beau. And Maggie X's music didn't help. I did my best to avoid listening but I couldn't totally escape it. The songs seemed to be of the I-am-woman-hear-me-mope variety. Think these lyrics to the tune of "The Roof Is Leaking":

I got knocked up and
had an abortion
My new man wants me in bed
doing contortions
Oh, men are assholes and
I'm sittin' here cryin'

Blah blah blah. Maggie, if you're reading this, please send me a link to some of your stuff so I can give it a better listen. Anyway, we left and went to The Caribou where we had some Capital Amber and let the Packers get my hopes up that they might actually win. Aaron was bartending and was his usual grumpy self. (I suspect he's even grumpier now that he cannot smoke on the job.) The Amber was mighty fine. And so, while I was disappointed with my first run-in with their Wheat Ale, I shall definitely try it again.

While I'm on the topic of beer, this looks humorous and tasty:



But others are unamused:

But Sen. Chris Buttars, R-West Jordan, isn't laughing.

"I guess some people are going to get a chuckle out of it. I don't see anything funny about it," Buttars said. "Anytime someone (tries to) sarcastically exploit issues of morality in those kinds of ways is very unappealing. But it doesn't bother me, whatever they put on there."

I'm glad the label doesn't bother him. Obviously the bullshit that is "Intelligent Design" doesn't either.

Wasatch also makes this brew:



My sentiments exactly.