Tastebud Massacre - Spring Break Saison

Author's note:  I have been holding on to this for a while, not sure if I should publish it or not.  I finally decided it was worth it to share for a good giggle.  We're lucky (heh) to have this brewery in our backyards, and hopefully they can take a little ribbing from a beer fan.

Dear Lucky Bucket Brewing Company,

I love you, man.  I do.  I think the fact that you’re practically in my backyard is awesome.  You done made me proud on more than one occasion.  But, we have got to talk about this seasonal brew of yours.  The Spring Break Belgian style saison was more of a letdown than the IRS declining to investigate Amy’s Baking Company for tax fraud.  

I’ll admit, I was enthralled with your Snowsuit Winter Abbey.  Loved the stuff.  So, when your packaging described this seasonal as; “A bright and vibrant ale tailor-made for the season of renewal” I was intrigued.  You painted a picture of lazy days on the front lawn, watching the frat boys down the street parade around shirtless in their inebriation when you described the beer by saying, “The floral and citrus notes of this delicious ale pair perfectly with clear blue skies and sunny afternoons.”  I salivated a little thinking about frosting a mug in the freezer and enjoying this new discovery in the company of friends.

I hope that my writing chops are enough to convey to you the depth of my disappointment upon my taking church key to bottlecap.  After lovingly pouring the bottle into a mug steaming as it slowly defrosted in the humid Saturday night air, wearing a quarter smile, I closed my eyes and took a deep sniff.  I expected to be reminded of sunscreen, sand volleyball, objectifying hardbodies around a body of water, and foam koozies hugging the curves of a bottle like Urkel on a pity date with the prom queen.  What greeted my nose instead was a gazpacho made from Love Canal runoff, items found abandoned in the back of Dahmer’s crisper, and distinct high notes of Jabba the Hutt’s belly button lint.

It has been said that I overlook as eccentricities what others would call red flags.  Red enough flags that “normal” people would call the police and file for a restraining order.  That’s the only explanation I have for why I continued to lift the glass to my mouth.  I will spare you the description of the tragic death of thousands of innocent tastebuds.  (Think of the children!)  What I will say is that having lived through my share of Spring Break revelry, I expected to taste much tequila and regret.  But, since this is a beer, I can’t fairly say I was expecting the tequila, but the regret was instantly overpowering.

Using words like “citrus” and “crisp” as a description were correct, but not in capturing the beer’s flavor.  I would use them more to convey how strong the cleaning products were to clear the taste from my face crater after that bomb went off.  Do you remember the scene from Ace Ventura after Ace reveals Lt Lois Einhorn is really Ray Finkle?  The one where he’s brushing his teeth down to nubs and gargling with ammonia and tears to wash away the disgust?  I’m very against homophobia, and yet this is the best approximation I could come up with to describe what happened over my kitchen sink.  For the record, I will never be able to enjoy the Twizzlers lemon filled ropes again as theirs and pine-sol’s flavor are unnervingly similar.  

In closing, I’d like to say that on a scale of ranking Spring Break, you guys scored more Community College than Florida University.  Better luck next time.

(Editor’s note - This letter is for comedic purposes and is an exercise in hyperbole.  It’s true I didn’t enjoy the brew, but I will continue to support my local brewery through the hard time they’re having with their current seasonal.  You should too.)