4.9% ABV from a pitcher

Our trip to Kansas (beginning of course in Missouri) started off well. A brief flight on the impressive regional Midwest Airlines (first class seats and fresh-baked cookies for everyone!) before landing at the comically miniscule Kansas City International airport where the pilot hit the trunk pop button and we retrieved our belongings. Quite frankly, we were surprised KCI had interstate flights, much less international, as I’ve seen airports invaded by zombie attacks that were more bumping. The city was likewise dead, the streets so empty during “rush” hour that we were easily able to pull off several mid-highway u-turns after getting lost trying to follow their poorly labeled signs. Luckily, though the city epically sucked, we had enough preplanned activities that we figured we could easily make it through our single night in town.  On hopefully the only night of our lives in Kansas City, we began at Arthur Bryant’s, often cited as the best BBQ joint in the world.

At the corner of 17th and Brooklyn we found an absolute dump, but a cafeteria-style line out the door meant the place’s reputation must surely be accurate. Waiting to order, we salivated looking at the piles of food people were retrieving on upturned shield-sized plates, while also goofing on the folks considered big enough celebrities in Kansas City to earn a framed autographed picture on their wall. Believe me, the Vice Blogger is more than famous enough for such an honor and I was sure to leave behind a dirty napkin with my signature on it. No word if it has been matted and mounted just yet.

We ordered a full slap of ribs, a pound of their noted burnt ends, a huge side of potato salad, and a pitcher of Boulevard Pale Ale, a local brew. Total cost, $32. Unbelievable. The ribs were sublime, literally falling off the bone as we scarfed them down. I would have to call them maybe the best I’ve ever had. The burnt ends were hearty and tasty and the potato salad was rich, cool, and delicious. The beer was better than expected too. A terrific smell and a decent taste. Pretty good but ultimately unremarkable. I think it could have been a truly great one if it had more hops and a higher ABV. Having said that, it was eminently drinkable.

Overall, It was a meal fit for a king. Unfortunately, there wasn’t exactly royalty in the place, every other guest in the restaurant being an obese hillbilly trying to handle their BBQ without getting any on their finest Larry Johnson t-shirt jersey while completely ignoring their rugrats. The restaurant was full of red-sauce covered brats sprinting around, making noise, and nearly touching me with their grubby paws–a prevailing theme for the weekend–but even they couldn’t ruin one of the best meals of my life.

I’m a shameless homer who will never call a BBQ joint better than Dinosaur, but Arthur’s Bryants is right up there. I encourage you to order some of their sauce, it is without question the best I’ve ever had, a flawless blend of sweet, tangy, and spicy with a most unique gritty texture due to the crushed-up dried peppers in the mix. Seriously, order it. You’ll soon enough be pouring that stuff on top of everything you eat–meat, salads, banana splits, everything–it is just that good.  I can’t stop thinking about it.

With inexplicably no moist towlettes in the joint, my hands and especially cuticles would be covered in BBQ fragments for the rest of the evening, but that was fine, it left a beautiful reminder of my splendid meal as we headed off to catch the Triple-A Kansas City Royals in action.

C+

5.25% ABV from a bottle

I typically don’t drink Bloody Marys, mimosas, or certainly motherfucking bellinis whilst brunching–unless they come free as part of some deal–so if I want to have an adult beverage with my Denver omelet, and not look like a deviant for ordering an Old-Fashioned, I have to go with a lighter beer. And, hopefully even a fruit beer to replace my O.J. Saturday morning I brunched at the terrific Bourbon and spied this apricot beer on the menu. I’m pretty sure I’d never had a pop from the Seattle brewery and I’m damn near positive I’ve never had an apricot-flavored beverage in my whole life.  But, we all know of my somewhat shameful passion for fruit beers so I had to give this one a shot. I ask the disenchanted hippie behind the counter what he thought of the beer. I always ask bartenders about a new beer before I try it, even when I’ve made my mind up, and nothing they say short of “Neo-Nazis brew this beer, lacing it with hints of aborted baby” can sway me from ordering it. I’m not sure why I do that. Any how, the bartender responded that the beer was an “Eh.” In my book that’s an absolute indictment of a beer as bartenders usually call the absolute worst brews in the house “pretty, pretty good” ala Larry David.

Whatever the case, I ordered the Apricot Ale. It smelled fantastic. The taste, not so much. How would a “professional” review a beer with an “A” smell and a less-than-stellar taste? I’m not sure, but I have to give it a mediocre overall score. Because, let’s be honest, sniffing a beer ain’t gonna get me drunk.

C+

5.8% ABV on draught

Before going to the Nats game, my friends and I hit some Capital Hill bars, wanting to throw back a few quality pops before going to the stadium. The first watering hole didn’t have that great of selection but they did have a free taco bar because I guess they like giving their patrons the shits. Correction, the bar actually had mini-tacos. They were like fucking taco sliders! Awesome. Every food tastes better when it is miniaturized and allows a man to feel like Goliath. I won’t say they tasted great and they kinda creeped me out in the same way the free buffet at a strip club would, but they still hit the spot.

I “paired” my taco sliders with Bell’s Oberon Ale, the only beer on tap I hadn’t had before. I don’t know much about the Bell’s Brewery as we don’t have much distribution of the brews in New York. I certainly wouldn’t call DC a better beer city than New York, nor a better drinking town, but they probably get a more diverse selection of beers from across this country. Each state’s “best” brewery seems to be well represented in the District. I would assume this to be because each state is well-represented by humans in the area, each of whom want to feel like they’re back home by drinking the brews they were weened on. My DC friends tell me that Michiganders consider Bell’s God’s gift to beer-drinkers. And, I must admit, the only previous Bell’s I’d had, their Two-Hearted Ale, was pretty solid. My friends further revealed that Michiganders seem to consider the Oberon the pinnacle of the brewery’s line. They told me that if talk beer with someone from The Wolverine State, The Great Lakes State, The Automotive State, or the Water-Winter Wonderland (why does Michigan have so many fucking nicknames?!) they would yak my ear off about Oberon and punch me were I to criticize it.

Well, get your knuckle sandwiches ready, Michigan. I didn’t love the Oberon, despite the fact that because I’m a huge nerd that plays bar trivia I know that the beer is named after the outermost of the major moons of Uranus which is actually named after a fairy character in Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Of course, it was served with fruit, one of my beer pet peeves. I found it lacked smell and was overly light in taste. Citrusy, but not much else. A little spice and a little hops perhaps. I’m actually shocked the ABV is so high. It’s better than macro shit like Blue Moon or Shock Top (though slightly different styles of course), but not much better, and it’s certainly worse than a Sam Adams Summer wheat. It goes down well though and I wouldn’t actually mind day-drinking outside with a few on some weekend. But inside, at a bar, give me something with a little more taste and bite.

C+

4.5% ABV from a can

My earlier lambasting of Corona resulted in me getting a flurry of angry e-mails, texts, and carrier pigeon missives. I always knew there was no way that Corona was the official beer of Mexico, but who know that swill was the official beer of American douchebags and pre-pubescents? (“d00d how can u hate on korona??!”)

Most people simply wanted to know if not Corona, what was my favorite Mexican beer? What would I order while grubbing on some fajitas or quesadillas? To that I answer…can I opt for a frozen margarita instead?

Well, Negra Modelo is the only good to great Mexican beer that I know of, but there are a several I enjoy. Pacifico is pretty good and at least doesn’t come in a clear bottle. Dos Esquis has several bottlings that ain’t bad and seem to at least be brewed with more ambitions than to simply make you piss a lot. And, of course, Corona is a terrific bottled water as you at least you know it’s been purified.

All things considered, though, my favorite would have to be Tecate. A beer that is prohibitively cheap, even in NYC where a sixer of cans will set you back like $3 (age 29 and I still enjoy ripping beer cans from the plastic ring) and a tallboy checks in at like a buck. It doesn’t taste that great I will admit, but there’s just something that makes me like drinking and getting drunk on Tecates. And, if it’s a beer that’s good enough for the hard-nosed bordertown rancher played by Tommy Lee Jones in “The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada” then it’s one that is good enough for me. Sometimes you just need to pound a few cans of Tecate to make you feel less like a cosmopolitan northeast urbanite and more like a gritty badass.

C+

5.9% ABV on draught

This beer upsets me less for what it is than for what it isn’t. I popped into a new, out-of-the-way bar for a single drink and amongst their plain Jane collection of taps there were actually, surprisingly three beers I didn’t know anything about. I was intrigued and tried to get any info on the three beers from the bartender. Her expertise seem to lie more in shaking up overly-sweet shot concoctions, flirting with the unemployed poet at the end of the bar, and rigging the jukebox to play nonstop Smiths songs than in giving me the scoop on her own fucking bar’s craft beer selection. I even pulled out my old trick where I act absolutely torn by the selections, hoping this will lead to the bartender giving me a little taste of each. She was too busy reading her poet suitor’s latest Sonnet to a Slutty Barkeep to help me out though. Thus, I was forced to take a chance on the beer from the only one of the three breweries I had heard of, Arcadia.

Thoughts: Arcardia IPA has a nice smell but it is fairly muted. It also has a bit of a sour taste I don’t like. Not like an enjoying hoppy sourness, but just a bad sourness. Speaking of hoppiness, this beer could use a tad more bite, surprising since it’s around 6% which is what I consider a good level for an IPA. Give me more hops though, I’m a man, I can handle it. This one almost taste like the tap wasn’t hooked up right and the beer was flat. It still had it’s charms though.

That is, until I returned home and hit up Beer Advocate like a big nerd to check out the two beers I had passed on. Not surprisingly, those beers scored respective A and A+ ratings! Goddamn, did that piss me off as it is unlikely I will be back to that bar any time soon and thus missed a chance to drink two fairly obscure masterpieces that I had never seen on tap before. It’s like finding out at your ten-year reunion that the hot cheerleader had always had a crush on you. And, it kinda made me hate Arcadia IPA like the single mother hates her accident baby for ruining her life and not allowing her to hit the clubs any more.

C+

4.7%, IBU 12

“Good people drink good beer.” HST

I’ve had several Flying Dogs and I’ve pretty much liked them all, but the only one I’ve truly loved is the Gonzo Porter. Whole Foods had some sort of “summer sippin’” promotion which roped me into buying this brew. I’m a sucker for thematic promotions that’s for sure. I love the smell of wheat beers, typically, but this one just isn’t wheaty enough for my liking. No hops, far too lemony. I like a hefeweizen with a little more bite (Brooklyn’s Weisse for example). The In-Heat Wheat almost tastes like a Blue Moon which is odd cause it’s a completely different style of beer. Whatever the case, it’s not good if I compare you to Blue Moon because I consider that faux-Belgian highly sub-par. Typing this drunk I accidentally wrote suck-par, which is apt too.

I suppose the best thing about this beer is the awesome Ralph Steadman label drawing. I love his work.

C+