While sitting around and contemplating origins of the universe, one can use up massive amounts of energy. (Although I’ve been around for a long time, I’m still trying to figure out who put that damn “pin point of matter” into infinity in the first place). Even though my incredibly massive brain is constantly functioning at Einsteinian levels I do, on occasion, like to take a break from the heavier stuff and take a stroll around the world. On one such occasion, my hoof got entangled in some vines that some jackass planted on the ground. After I made a couple of false charges at the farmer, Charlie explained to me the purpose of such an idiotic endeavor.
Large orange orbs known as pumpkins, a rather useless vegetable that seems to be the favorite weapon of troubled teens that go about the neighborhood smashing them on the ground, are hot commodities during the fall. (That action, by the way, is also the name of an incredibly woeful band). Chef’s reluctantly work up recipes for these things; serve the dishes to mind numbed wine drinking nannies and the kept women with the men who want to get into their pants. They then file the recipes away in a metal container some of us call, a garbage can, and resume cooking real food. Apparently some highly intelligent beer studs challenged themselves and are trying to make beers with these things. Anyway, as I was scavenging through an inappropriately priced organic food store, I stumbled on “Wasatch Pumpkin Ale”. Get ready.
With great reluctance, I opened the beer and poured it into the glass. What greets you is a unique blend of sensations. The color, although it may seem predictable, had a slightly orange hue to it, which results in a head the color of the filling in a dream sickle. My snout was ringing off the charts with hints of cinnamon, star anise, nutmeg and new leather. It took me about four times to finally take a sip of this thing. I kind of felt like the two kids waiting for Mikey to take his first spoonful of LIFE Cereal. Except this cereal packs buzz and ends your dessert cravings at the same time. Anyway, the first sip has a medium feel that’s accompanied by a slight hoppy sensation and some medium sized pumpkin flavor. Just when you think you’ve tasted all this concoction has to offer, it jumps up and smacks you in the head with seasonal pumpkin spices, like some hooker wanting payment for services rendered. OOOps. Yea, it’s kind of like a full on pumpkin pie followed by a warm glass of brandy.
When I go on foraging sprees, I tend to be indiscriminate when selecting the meal of the day. However, in this case, I wanted to make sure the Wasatch experience was not wasted. So, going with the assumption that the vibrant spices would support something with depth and balance, I went with “Candied Braised Short Ribs with Cranberry Infused Wild Rice and Cinnamon Demi”. The combination was magic, with the meat providing a platform to spring the sugar and cinnamon into action against the spices and flavors of the Beer. You want to relive this combination, over and over but you know you have to be careful. It’s like hitting the rewind button every time Phoebe Cates gets out of the pool, that part is great, but if you play the scene too far you end up with Judge Reinhold in the bathroom. No place for a beer loving food craving boar to be.
The B’Oracle gives this beer three tusks for its ability to ride along with food and some complexity that enables it to stand on its own. The other plus here is that there are fewer pumpkins for the kids to smash. The band on the other hand just needs help. Enjoy.
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