Displaying 101 - 150 of 163
it's a love thang - one might paraphrase the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez and reflect, "It is not true that hop heads stop pursuing IPAs because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing IPAs"
baby's got bock - and with a name like Spoetzl, it's got to be good. Man up, confront lameness, and don't give Shiner a black eye; find it in Easter baskets in the spring and in goat's horns in the fall
not generally found at the local opera house, nevertheless a workhorse beverage loved by game-table gamblers, swanky wheeler-dealers and steely-eyed waiters that won't induce untapped bev-Rage
with a horse trader's sensibility and a horse blanket's tender muskiness, this refreshing brown porter gives mud back its good name - use it to help rule your fiefdom like a feudal lord
Down Under's brilliant copper ale is a favorite amongst Melbourne's collarless priests and ex-prize fighters who spend hours drowning the eucalypts with Australia's Famous Beer Brand
throughout the 1960s, Hamm's was venerated by some for it's rock-bottom price point, then subsequently anathematized for its somewhat soppy, milqetoast flavor - yet had a knack for regularly capping off an afternoon's worth of yard chores
after a half-dozen alien abductions, after which a number of my favorite beer cans go missing, I give in and down an astute white ale with built-in UFO protections
Albert Einstein was once misquoted, "Two things are infinite: the universe and micro breweries; and I'm not sure about the universe." Blowing Rock ales should always be there to enhance your poolside parties and innocuous get-togethers
if you loved watermelon candy as a kid (Zotz, Jolly Rancher, Sour Patch), relive the magic without the pink tongue afterslurp - distinctly anti-piratical
take sci-fi night ever higher with a strapping, flavorful backbone, mouthwatering Galaxy hops, and sharp-stick-in-the-eye can graphics
the pale ale doth think it is voluminously hopped, but the defiantly hopped mutha knows itself to be a pale ale - or so it would seem. Sips, swigs and chugs are the righteous paths to enlightenment
hey it's Wonder Bread, Skippy and Smuckers in a pint glass - with a name like Catawba, it has to be good. Stickylicious and woefully madcap
magnanimously crustacean, but not subservient to the citra taste that lands squarely in the center of your tongue upon first quaff
when three sheets to the wind just won't cut it ("I require four sheets," stated my pixilated, crapulous houseguest), break out The Toll Imperial and, at 10.5 ABV, watch 'em fall where they may
Holy Hooterville, Uncle Joe, 11 ABV is slap-happiness in a colorful can - after three of these you'll be playin' "Orange Blossom Special" on a Jew's harp, requiring months of reformative dental work
an unfashionable and ambivalent anti-hero once told me, "Respect other people's pale ale. It might mean nothing to you, but it could mean everything to them." Partake in jocular, yet revolutionary gusto
a tribute to the overly bronzed big shots lounging at the Bellagio pool - not for them, for you - leave the tastelessly smooth Dud Lights for them as you relish a stout imbued with real Nitrogen
next time you're tempted to break out the dreaded 'pepper grinder' on the dance floor, at least look unsettlingly cool by holding a Hell Kitty KItty awesome ale between your cheek and gum
a favorite amongst the feisty, disquieted bigwigs and pretzel-necked geeks who roam the highways and byways of our great land - rye malt never had it so good - and CountChoco-licious
a bear-y nice ale - sumptuous, grand, lavishly appointed - truly sumpin' special. Forsooth, there is no easy ale I trust more
antlers function as objects of sexual attraction and as weapons in fights between males - a rising, rounded alcohol presence in this IPA should help contribute to both
Indivisibly aromatic - land of the brewed, and home of the bravely smooth finish, with liberty and barley for all
after being clocked by your company tech with a clue-by-four when you've downloaded your 100th email virus, relax with this full-bodied, calming, hop-forward ale
paddle out as far as you can with four pints, ride a kahuna, and bask in the tangy undertones - a brazen underdog
blend devil-may-care flavor with the amor of su abuelita y Tia Irma and you might get close to the reckless El Sully, a beer irresponsibly spirited and geared for the High Sierra Trail
break free of a repressive background or Puritanical shackles with west coast attitude in a can (not hindered by 7% ABV, to be sure) - elope with a six-pack this weekend
your eyes will glaze over after reading the 100+ IPA varieties on the can, both real and utter make-believe. Ideally hopped for Saturday night barn dancers or quarreling farm boys
viewing the birth of a pony is a headlong rush, comparable to the rush of a 9.5% ABV drink-a-thon, without the loss of rebellious motor functions. Enjoy with hay
aw Hell's Bells, Have A Drink On Me, you'll be Thunderstruck when you taste Back in Black, so kick back, relax, Give The Dog A Bone, and enjoy this IPA while you Shoot To Thrill
when I listen to punk rock, I'm reminded of the quote from Sarah Dessen, “Don't think or judge, just listen." Oh, I'll listen, but I require three Punk In Drublics first
a Category 5 beer packing furious winds and near-prejudicial surge - high gravity delivers on the promise of overflowing exuberance
at last, freevheelin' mother puckers everywhere now have a strong-willed cuke beverage to call their own - a peerless choice for the latent little general in all of us
holy gose, Batman, if it's kettle-soured with lactobacillus, isn't that potentially damaging to the Batmobile's upholstery? If we spill it en route I mean
lurid red and undimmed yellow can colors serve as eye-openers prior to the ebullient pop of the top, the dark brown pour, and soothing first sips
daring to give Dr. Robert Bruce Banner an Ultra may bring on, "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," but even low carbs will soften the resulting muscular humanoid
in a can this big, the Silver Bullet is really a Silver Mortar Shell - a big-city two-fer that begs to be shared or quaffed quickly lest the contents warm
rock, rock, rock'n'roll Rockdale - light-bodied, a touch ecclesiastical in its tone and tempo, and compassionately unexamined
big, brash, silvery steel with '211' seemingly painted in olde sheep's blood - this is a two-fisted, rear-drive, green-eyed, three-faced four-flusher of a beer
at precisely 2 minutes to midnight, run to the hills to swill premium British Beer - don't die with your boots on, journeyman, quaff a Trooper
kickstart your breakfast of champions with oat flakes, skim milk, toast, jam and an overstuffed pint of Hefeweizen grapefruit beer. An out-and-out vitamin C sensation
smoke 'em if you got 'em Viggoramenstein - rides a wire between smoky and bittersweet. Cloaked in saddle polish and olde English 800
amber haze all in my brain; leichte weisse just don't seem the same; tasting fruity but I don't know why, excuse me while I kiss the sky
mash and macerate the competition at the next Cornhole tournament after downing a pint or three by taking a liquid hammer to your complex neural functions
kindly endorsing Paradise City's tropical notes is our angular polar bear, supplementing a diet of bearded seals and the occasional young walrus. Goo goo gjoob
to paraphrase Denis Waitley, 10.2% ABV is inherently risky, but there is only one big risk you should avoid at all costs, and that is the risk of drinking nothing
relaxing with a hot towel on your head accompanied by this freewheelin' cucumber and cantaloupe concoction has never felt more right - let it all out on your day off
express yourself before you drink yo'self, ya'gotta love colloquialisms, especially when tasting an incandescent java-based libation
an IPA that recalls Malcolm McDowell's rendition of "Singing In The Rain", who would've thunk it? Orange flavor permeates the violent, scrappy maltiness and confrontational hopiness
loyal amber ales show their love in times of trouble, not in hoppiness - hoist a perfect piney pint even when you don't need one
a barrelmaker's delight - fig and raisin aromas mark this bankable ESB, which indulges like an unexpected windfall, worthwhile and remunerative