Drink #16 Newcastle Brown Ale

2.5.2012

Giants win over the Patriots with a butt-dropping touchdown, Madonna struts strong for 54, Clint Eastwood is running for President of Detroit, Voltron, Snoopy and He-Man sell-out team-up to sell insurance, Bud Light highlights dog rescue and I try an English ale import.

That about sums it up, yes? Give or take a Bueller, exploding vampire or “don’t try this at home” car commercial.

Oh, and did a chimpanzee give a guy a handy-j, or was it just me? I was only half paying attention at any given moment.

Ok, I’ll stop. You’re not skimming reading this for my Super Bowl commercial breakdown. (Google Hulu)

So the Newcastle Brown Ale. First let me say, I’m starting to really enjoy the less sweet, darker beers. Especially when I’m eating something sweet or spicy–they really bring out the sugars and individual spices of everything. A cookie, a wing, a burger. Everything tends to sing a little brighter when paired with an brown beer.

Similar to the Yuengling Lager I had a few weeks ago, I found the Newcastle musky, yeasty with a olive-pit like quality. However, the Newcastle was far nuttier, only slightly sour, not too sharp. I found it to be a relatively mild beer with an odd burnt toast quality I liked. All in all–especially paired with food–I liked it.

But there was one weird taste note I didn’t care for: the finish. It finished really metallic, like it has been poured through tinfoil. It doesn’t last long, but it’s there.

On the plus side that finish just makes you drink more for the initial tastes. Sneaky, Newcastle, sneaky.

Wow, beer and sports? People who know me must be thinking “Who is this guy? What the hell happened to Ben?! Oh thy alcohol, why must you tether our dearest friend into the clutches of confusion?!" Ok, that last question was from my 18th century imaginary British friend. Seriously, I’m still the same guy.

Don’t worry.

Well… anymore than normal.

But I’m committed to exploring alcohol’s natural habitat when available and opportune. A beer with the Super Bowl, an old fashioned at a historic bar, a kamikaze at the gay sports bar. Who knows what’s next? Moonshine while crocodile hunting? A cosmopolitan with my three city-spinster girlfriends over brunch and gossip? A Zima in 1993?

Time travel will tell, I suppose.

In the meantime, the next Adventure will be a professional wine-tasting event this Wednesday, showcasing Port and all it’s glory where I’ve been invited as the special guest. And by "special” I’m sure they mean “Oh God, totally invite that alcohol virgin guy, it’ll be fun to watch him say stupid shit and use phrases like ‘wet dog’, 'pool water’ and 'children’s cherry cough syrup’, that dumbass.”

But it was just an honor to get the invite. (Seriously, pray for me.)

Until then. Cheers, Ben


PS: Huge thanks for our cousins Nat & Chris for hosting the Super Bowl and for picking up the wings, pizza and Newcastle. Good family, good food, good beer.

PPS: Just having had firstdrink #16, I’m about to start my mini-campaign to find the perfect odd, unique, original drink for #20. So keep your eyes peeled for that and for the upcoming promotion of February’s #firstdrinkHappyHour for charity.