Fat Tire Chicago Inaugural

I really wanted to like this Ale.

I've been detoxing for a couple of weeks, in anticipation of my upcoming birthday. Not to Geoff's level, nor to the extreme of my most recent program (or whatever you call it), just avoidance of alcohol, sugar, flour, meat and limiting myself to one pot of espresso in the morning (as opposed to my usual 2, plus more in the afternoon), as much as possible. Last time I was more diligent, this time I did have a couple of business dinners (wine, and pasta), and a business lunch (coffee), plus I think I had some chicken in there somewhere.

So, blah blah blah, I decided that this evening, erev birthday, as it were, was as good of a time to drink this beer as any. Except the bouquet is horrible! Bleh. The beer itself is pretty good, interesting multi-faceted palate, pretty color, a B+ in fact. Much better tasting than the beer I made myself recently.

But the smell has a hint of bleach, the odor of old sweat-socks, and pinch of nervous energy. I don't know if it is horrific enough that I will never drink the ale again, but maybe. Oh well. I think I have some Jameson's somewhere. And a little brick of [redacted 'cause ya never know]. I'll be a'right. Me, Billie Holiday, Francis Ford Coppola, Ravi Shankar, William Wordsworth, and even Russell Crowe, Walter Winchell and Jackie Chan, and probably some other schmoes remember the day too.

Note, even though I'd like to beer blog, like the Disgruntled Chemist, I cannot in all honesty promise to follow through. I mean, I was supposed to listen to all of my CDs, and look how far I've gotten (somewhere in the middle of the S's - after starting from Z)

Update: not to mention Albert Hoffman's little problem child was first synthesized April 7th.