Bravo Sierra

Harassing Ford: Sierra Imperial Red Ale
is not a family drink

Oh I knew this would happen, but quite how much I don't want to drink this beer now is difficult to describe. 

I must be ill. There's no way one small bottle of Jupiler and half a bottle of red - on a full stomach as well - should be able to put me out of action in quite the way it has.

This morning was fine. Got up reasonably early, had a nice breakfast, cup of coffee, did a few admin calls and generally thought nothing of it. But since about midday, it's started falling apart.

Hot flushes, shivers, butterflies in the stomach, the lot. Honestly, the thought of drinking fills me with absolute terror. Which is a shame, as I've been looking forward to this one since I crated it three weeks ago. Sierra Nevada is one of the larger US 'craft beer' makers and has been selling its Pale Ale by the bucketload in the UK for a few years.

This one must be pretty niche as there's no mention of it on the brewery's website, so in all honesty I should be moving Heaven and earth to sample it.

But I'm not. I feel drained. I honestly feel like I'd be sick. Right now, if you offered me the chance of feeling better instantly in return for never drinking again, I'd seriously consider it.

And yes, yes, I know, hair of the dog and all that. But almost for the first time in my life (and I realise this is stretching it a bit), I really feel like this is a kill or cure. Here goes nothing.

Beer: Sierra Nevada Imperial Red Ale
Strength: A frightening 8.1%
Colour: Off brown, like an old piece of meat
Smell: Dusty, like the squalid stench of death. Actually, that's not strictly true - usually it'd smell delightful, but it's making me want to heave.
Tasting notes: Ouch, that hurt. I don't think all the most vengeful Gods in the firmament could have come up with a drink I'd like to have less than this. OK, it starts out as well as can be expected with a terrific hoppy burst that would usually have my saliva falling over itself. And it is doing that, but for all the wrong reasons. And as we all know only too well, what starts out with huge promise can quickly come crashing down around your ears and leave you cold. Same goes here. All too quickly, everything turns sour. Well, not sour really. It turns to liquorice. Not good Italian stuff, but the kind you'd get in sherbet dips in the 70s. And this tastes like it is of that vintage. Trouble is, I think I'd really like this under normal circumstances. It's just this is the wrong beer at the wrong time. Curse my pisspoor timing.
Gut reaction: *boke*
Session factor: I just can't answer that in my current state.
Arbitrary score: Five.