Have you ever found yourself at that company holiday party—you know—
A couple of your chuckle-head pals from the office and then the rest of the miscreants are there– an assortment of various cheeses and crackers dazzle your eyes
Shit, is that Colby Jack AND pepperoni?
You bump around in close quarters. People you couldn’t care less about are screaming and cheering. You slug back a few non-alcoholic brews because that’s all the company can afford on that non-profit money. You spin around and begin to dance to the Barry Manilow Christmas hits…
Just you and him.
Together, in Yuletide bliss…
Those silver locks..
Those dulcet tones…
The record comes to a halting screech as you bump into your boss.
Disoriented, mostly from the bootleg (literally)
Beer you snuck into the Hilton
You both slowly notice your respective positions beneath the mistletoe.
“Ahem, “ You enunciate, clearly—like, you weren’t even clearing your throat, you were literally saying ‘ahem’– `
People begin to look around, and finally, at you.
“Let’s not make this weird,” you say, as you lean in, coolly, for her sterile lips.
“Justin, I’m afraid you’re making it a little weird, already.”
“Bullshit, plant me, boss.”
Yeah, that’s how I felt drinking this beer, Harpoon.
Your Winter Warmer is like opening your sister’s stocking on Christmas, by mistake, and finding a dildo.
It’s like, you have company visiting for Christmas, and you have this weird jar sitting on the coffee table, and they’re like, “what the hell is up with this goddamn jar on this coffee table? It’s so ugly.” Then Dave realizes it’s where you keep the spent ashes from the fireplace, and it’s super-full, so he throws them out for you. Once you’ve noticed after checking on the holiday ham for the fifth time, you freak right out.
It was grandma.
Enough with this fizzy crap.
The head dissipates too quickly.
WAH WAH WAH
God, this is such an awkward beer.
Sure, it looks nice. I’ll give it that. It’s a brilliant red. No, it’s a comely garnet—happy now? There’s some moderate carbonation, I suppose. The beer is strangely transparent. It smells like fancy cola—like organic shit. There’s very little hops to speak of. Of course, there is some obvious cinnamon, and nutmeg is there, but not as much. It has sort of a “snickerdoodley” smell to it. The malts lend a biscuit, shortbread kind of flavor. Just as I thought; it tastes like someone dipped a snickerdoodle cookie in some coca-cola and then ate it.
Geez, why don’t we watch reruns of This Old House and slam back a few of these cold ones, already?
It’s coppery and metallic when cold. There’s a slight hint of ginger as it begins to warm. The flavor is uncomfortably thin. Nevertheless, there are strong brown sugar notes throughout, to the point of caramel. If anything, there are very light hops at the very end.
I will admit, It’s highly drinkable. While it has a rather thin mouthfeel, carbonation lightly prickles the tongue and adds to a pleasant, reinvigorating finish.
Or, shit, shit—So, you’re, like, taking ornaments out to get them ready to hang on the tree and you see you and your mom and a man of a different race on one of them, like—you know, one of those portrait ornaments or some shit; and then, you’re, like, “who’s that guy?” Her reply is all like, “that’s your dad” or something.
Or wait, yeah, It’s like a Secret Santa thing, and you give your deaf uncle a copy of Angels and Demons on tape, but, you know, he’s deaf.
…Yeah, that’s it.
*6.8 out of 10*