9% ABV on tap
Aaron is Celebrity Spotted. (Almost.)
The cute blond walked into the bar and instantly I knew that I knew her. But how? From college? Naw, she was too young. Had I drunkenly hooked up with her in my past? No, too good-looking to forget. Then what? She sat five barstools down from my friends and then it hit me.
Nearly a year ago a girl had discovered my blog and sent me a nice e-mail. We wrote back and forth a bit, semi-flirtatiously in that way people who have no chance of having anything ever happen write–she lived several state away–but we mainly focused on beer talk. And oh boy did she know a lot about beer. Far more than me. Eventually, we friended each other on Facebook and I saw that not only was she smart, she was damn cute too. Cute for a normal girl in society, smoking hot for a beer geek. Alas, we eventually ran out of things to talk about and, thus, quit talking. And now she was sitting ten feet from me.
There are obviously bad things about being a celebrity but the good far outweigh them. Getting to throw out the first pitch at a baseball game. Instantly turning women 500% more promiscuous. And having people walk up to you and go, “Say, aren’t you…HIM?!” As a shameless narcissist, I have always dreamed about having someone come up to me and go, “Say, aren’t you Aaron Goldfarb?!” Now was my chance for this to finally happen. But she just wasn’t looking my way yet.
I didn’t tell my two buddies what was occurring, wanting to blow their minds while acting super-smug if and when she finally approached me. Their eyes agog as I responded, “Why yes, yes I am Aaron Goldfarb, but hey, keep it down, don’t want to get mobbed. Here, I’ll autograph this cocktail napkin for you.”
But she still wasn’t looking my way. I began jutting my head out well over the bar so she could see my face in all its glory. Didn’t work. I started laughing uproariously loud at my friend’s jokes. Didn’t phase her. I began inserting my name into my own conversations. (“So then the guy looks at my driver’s license and goes, ‘AARON GOLDFARB? That’s funny, my best friend’s name is AARON GOLDFARB, who would think there’s another AARON GOLDFARB in this city?”) She remained unflappable. My friends must have thought I was losing my marbles with my atypical behavior.
I began to pull out the big guns. I loudly inquired about incredibly obscure beers on the bottle menu, even asking what vintage they were. I made pedantic explanations of style to my layman drinking friends (“…and that is what differentiates a saison from a biere de garde…”) Started throwing out all sorts of arcane beer argot (“I expected this one to be more phenolic and less diacetyl…”) Quizzed the bartenders on the taps (“And what’s the original gravity of that? Say, is that on nitro or cask?” I began drinking my beers like a beer geek loser par excellence, histrionically swirling my glass, sniffing it with a aggressiveness more akin to a coke fiend, and slurping my sips with my tongue in order that it tickle each and every one of my taste buds.
Didn’t matter. I got nuttin’. She totally ignored me. I thought about going up to her, tapping her on the shoulder, “Hey, aren’t you a fan of mine?!” But I figured that was uncouth. Not to mention it kinda negates the coolness factor if you celebrity spot yourself.
Eventually she left and I was left with just my beer. Bear Republic’s Racer X. A draught-only offering I’d been wanting to try for quite awhile. This is a bit of an oddball of an IPA. Actually smells like a barleywine, while tasting like a DIPA. Bitter and slick with an intense sweetness on the back end, I greatly enjoyed this beer. And, following it up with Bear Republic’s 7% Rebellion IPA–I found it very bitter and not complex at all, a little too light and watered-down as well (B)–I got a good comparison for how very good it is. The Racer X absolutely dwarfed Rebellion. Still, I’m not sure if it’s a Top 100 beer in the world–and I’m pretty sure I prefer the smells-like-a-dimebag hoppy freshness of yet another Bear Republic IPA, Hop Rod Rye–but this is a very good brew nonetheless.