At this point in the afternoon
I was less
To be desired
The taproom was occupied
Shoes swarmed the linoleum as cockroaches do
But certainly busy
Everyone seems courteous
Of gratification and straight up
Upon my fourth flight, my bartender and I discussed the Ghoulschip.
It was a
“So they put the house yeast in the batch, but it
To the wild
Yeast in the
We put our noses upon our respective glasses (seriously, who talks like this?)
“Aromas reminiscent of green apples, sharp cheese, slight caramel, wet leaves, kohlrabi, tartness somewhere between a lemon and a lime.” She’s leading me on
Rolling my eyes
Take a sip; upfront—lemony citrus stings upon the tip of the tongue, then comes a sour funk marrying a Danish blue cheese and Camembert or brie. It’s salty. A toasty sweetness follows. (This is probably the toasted pumpkin seeds and the pumpkin, itself—I thought to myself) “Oak-i-ness” pokes through towards the back end, and then dryness emerges. Vanilla flavors develop with tart cherries as the flavor begins to dissipate.
More like Boo Berry
It’s a fuck-up
She looked at me, to the bar, to the patrons, and walked away.
Total fuck up.
Don’t die or whatever.
*9.0 out of 10*