7.5% ABV bottled

For years, I’ve lived just a dozen or so blocks from the Trump Riverside complex and never thought much of it.  I just assumed the buildings housed your typical breed of Manhattanite high-rise-living stereotypes.  Then, this weekend, needing to get from Hudson River Park across to see a friend on the Upper West Side I decided to take a route that cut a swath through the middle of the massive development.  And, oh boy, was I quickly on another planet, man.  It was like an Oz in the middle of New York, a total self-sustaining upper-upper-class commune of the kind of yuppies you only see in movies.  Powerful forty- and fifty-something finance-type men with their thinning hair, primary color Polos pulled taut over their respectable paunches, slightly too-short pairs of those navy shorts that are kinda like a rich man’s version of cut-offs (if the material cut off was from a discarded pair of Boss suit pants), and Cole-Haan loafers, worn sockless natch.  Walking the sidewalks of their secluded high-rise villa holding hands with their younger never-had-a-job-before trophy wives as each partner used their one free hand to push a massive SUV stroller that costs more than two-month’s rent for plebes like me and you.  It was eye-opening I must say.

As I mentioned, the Trump Riverside community is seemingly totally self-sustaining, but this is no kibbutz, brother, not like these folks are growing their own maize and hemp, so of course they have to have their own fancy-pants stores.  And I shouldn’t have been surprised to come across their supermarket, a gourmet place called Jubilee.  Now, I’m like an old lady who has to go into every antique shoppe she comes upon to look for dumb knick-knacks, as I am cosmically compelled to enter every new supermarket or beer store I come upon, despite the fact that I was overstocked with supply at the time.

I was not surprised in the least to see that Jubilee had a phenomenal beer supply, surely one of the biggest grown up soda secret stashes in Manhattan.  All sorts of oddball stuff I had never seen before and in many cases never even heard of before.  I was psyched to see literally just a single loose bottle of Nugget Nectar (and for only a buck fifty!).  A buzz-worthy beer that I know is not so rare, at least in PA, but which never makes it to NYC.  I also realize it is quite a bit out of season as it appears to release in February–and was no doubt on the Jubilee shelf since then–but for such a hopbomb I don’t think that should have mattered freshness-wise.  I could be wrong.

God, I loved the smell of this one.  Like inhaling a Christmas tree.  And the taste is about as hoppy, piney, and floral as they come.  Right up my alley.  A nocturnal emission for hopheads.  Not exactly sure why this isn’t an IPA, but whatever they want to call it, I loved it.

A-

6% ABV on draught

I’d seen this brewery’s beers around quite a bit and I knew they were fairly well regarded, but the terrible brewery name just turned me off. I mean, the name has a fucking umlaut in it. Get the fuck outta here you Mötley Crüe wannabees. Tröegs has got to be the worst name for a brewery this side of Grolsch. Their taps are terribly ugly too. However, I’d pretty much had every draught at the bar so I asked the nerdy bartender for a rec. He told me Tröegs. I begrudgingly ordered the Harrisburg, PA beer but I’m truly glad I did. It was terrific and incredibly refreshing. Citrusy, floral, and piney with a solid amount of hops. Went down quickly and easily. I could and would drink this all day and night. I guess I’ll have explore more Tröegs beers in the future despite their unappealing name.

B+