|Desk duty: had to neck this in the office|
due to impending Christmas bash
In fairness, it was one of those episodes straight out of the 'if something can go wrong, it will' book. I was more than happy for a home-brew or two to go into the calendar and Sam was perfectly pleased to oblige. And right there was when the accident began waiting to happen.
Somewhat worryingly, I haven't heard from Sam all day. I'm hoping this is due to him being busy what with the pre-Christmas rush and all and that my potentially over-the-top criticism was laughed off heartily over a bottle of the same stuff, with the thought: "there's nothing wrong with it," crossing his mind and quizzical brow*.
I really hope he's stashed one of the imperial stouts he's brewed in there because I know I like that and I can shower it with praise.
Who'd be a critic, eh?
I'm on more familiar territory with this style, just as it seems England's cricket team is finding its usual modus operandi. Holding the Ashes was good while it lasted, but I suppose it had to end at some point. And after the stick he got a few years ago, it's almost nice that the difference between the sides appears to be Mitchell Johnson. Although that moustache is ridiculous.
But enough of what's not been keeping me awake in the last few weeks and on to something that I hope will contribute to a sound night's sleep on the sofa this evening as I'm accommodating two mates staying over and can't rightly make them take the couch.
You see? I can be nice.
*edit: I have now discovered yesterday's wasn't one of Sam's beers after all. Thank fuck.
Strength: A handily manageable 4.5%
Smell: Like opening a big tin of Quality Street, breathing in the fumes from a cup of steaming cocoa or Shreddies on the barbecue.
Tasting notes: Oh this is good. A tidal wave of mocha bowls up the tongue before washing away down the shingle of your throat. It leaves behind a fantastically tangy flavour and I swear there's a hint of some smoked chilli in there somewhere. But what really impresses is the contrast with the smell. You're expecting a gentle pat on the head to say 'well done', you're given a sharp clip round the ear. But then the resulting sting turns out to be genuinely warming. I really like this.
Session factor: High. High, high, high, high, high. Ooh-hoo. As David Byrne would say.
Gut reaction: For some reason, what's usually a calming influence is today being a mite volatile. There may be trouble brewing.
Actual beer: Box Steam Brewery Funnel Blower. I've had a few of their ales and while the nomenclature can leave a lot to be desired (Piston Broke, anyone?), the beers themselves are really good.
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