9.7% ABV from draught and a bomber
I always workout shirtless. Not cause I’m a vain douche that thinks he has a bangin’ body or something. Rather, because I am one of the world’s greatest sweaters, and after mere seconds of exercise my t-shirts become so deluged with salty water that it feels like I’m jogging around with a flak jacket on. Thus, no matter how hot or cold it is, no matter how fat or slightly-less fat I am, I go running down Manhattan’s Hudson River Park jogging path sans shirt. And, being that I live in gay Hell’s Kitchen and run toward gayer Chelsea every single day, I immediately get feedback on how well I’m doing with my workout regimen via stares by rollerblading homosexuals. At the start of the summer, I was getting no stares in the least. By mid-June I might get one up-and-down per week. And, yesterday afternoon, I got visually objectified by a record-breaking five, count ’em five, skating swishes.
Score! Except for the fact that I’m a heterosexual. And not a single woman ogled me yesterday. Though, I did leer at about 900 women myself. Whatever the case, those stares must mean my jogging is working!
I bring this up because I know that my blog is “working” by the more and more feedback I get from friends and readers. The most prominent feedback I get is from people challenging me as to whether I’ve had some “obscure” beer they just tried and loved. Everytime someone finds themselves drinking and mildly enjoying something that isn’t an American macro, I get a text or email telling me about this great new beer discovery that has just been made.
I take these recommendations with a big grain of salt. 50% of the time I’ve actually had the beer. 25% of the time I immediately dismiss the recommendation because I know it has to be faulty. 24% of the time I file the recommendation away for future considerations. And a mere 1% of the time do I know that I must run out and find the beer post-haste. This happened recently when a friend recommended Avery‘s double IPA, the Maharaja.
On Wednesday, I stopped in at New York’s best beer bar before heading to the world’s most famous arena to watch the universe’s funniest man perform standup. In an act of kismet, Maharaja was on tap. My friend was right. It was fucking delicious. Beautiful amber cherry pour. Frothy, fruity, sugary, tons of hops, and very alcoholic. Complex, a terrific finish, and very drinkable. I could have these until I fell off the barstool.
I liked it so much the next day I went to Whole Foods and snagged a bomber of it which I found equally tasty. I’m gonna put this one into my regular IPA rotation.
A pretty damn perfect double IPA. I think it’s probably Avery’s best beer. Very close to giving it an A+.