With November rolling along like the teats of a pig well on its way on becoming a yuletide ham, the air is starting to turn cold in Finland. With temperature creeping to that of a well-digger's ass, even Big Bison is forced to burrow deeper into his fur-rug jacket and seek shelter inside the many pubs and bars of the city.
This time, the bar in question was a rather well-respected corner pub with a simple name. Sure enough, there's leather chairs and even a smoking section out in the back. No bullshit about kicking us out to the street to practice our vices. But that's not what this blog is about. Interior decorating, that is. Smoking, though, is big part of it.
Anyways, beer! And not just any beer. First choice happened to be something of a "local taste", a draught beer named after the only decent landmark (a pile of dirt) around: Harju. The second choice was Irish sucker, Kilkenny by the name. Despite how it may seem, the beer has nothing to do with best American comedy around. Instead, it gets its name from some punk-ass Irish city. They probably don't even have hobos on the streets.
So, enough gabbing. Let's see what these bad boys have to offer. Without any fancy words or shit like that. I don't know any of those.
In the front: Harju Pale Ale. Kilkenny is shamefully hiding in the back.
Strength: 5,2%
Served: Straight from the tap
Thought: Better drink this shit fast
So, Harju Pale is bit like that annoying friend you meet while out drinking. At first you're like: "Hey, haven't seen this jackass in a while!" But then, just as quickly, you realize why you originally hated his sorry ass, and just want to beat his face in. What do I mean with this? Other than some guys annoy the hell outta me? Well, lemme elaborate.
The first sip from the glass is soft, I give it that. It goes down your throat nice enough, without any objections. The taste is sorta like syrup on a block of old wood. In other words, it doesn't attack the drinker with the intention of strangling them upon the first encounter. So yeah, it's pleasant enough. Hell, the after-taste is somewhere close to salty liquorice. In other words like ammoniac. Not as bad as you might think. At least it feels that you're drinking something.
But then the magic happens. And I don't mean that in "Disney, Tinkerbell, Fly all the way to England, bitch!"sense. No, this is more like those saggy old raven-hags from Skyrim. You notice that the after-taste, what little there is, doesn't remain for long. In fact, nothing of this beer refuses to sit down and instead books it like a penniless alcoholic in a bar. The taste, the look, the foam... they're all gone in under ten minutes, leaving you with swill roughly the color of that mud puddle outside. There's nothing really to be done after this. All you can shake your head, bare your teeth, and gulp it all down as fast as you can so you can move on to the next drink on the list.
I mean, it's still alcohol. No sense in wasting it.
Now, that said, if you can drink it relatively fast, then this is fine enough beer. Nothing special, and there's nothing new in the taste itself. All the parts can be found in just about every other beer you can order at your local pub. That is, unless you live in USA. Then you're probably drinking something way worse than this. In which case, go for it if you get it.
Grade:
Name: Kilkenny
Strength: 4.3%
Served: Straight from the tap
Thought: Easyrider
So, after the disappointing last five minutes, it was time to get some Kilkenny and figure out the deal with this so called red ale. Of course, it's the inferior brand they ship out to foreign lands. Irish would never part with their good alcohol. Nobody ever does. And I don't blame them. I mean, have you tasted some of the shit out there? Wars could start from ownership of that stuff.
Now, first things first: Kilkenny is a showy beer. It's the type you can sit with in a bar and look cooler than without. So those out there on a prowl for whoever is sorry enough to spend a night with you, that's your tip of the night. Now get out of here. We're talking about drinking, not picking up the lady-folk.
Anyhow, the beer itself: it smells slightly like wood, which is always a good thing. Anything that smells weird is enough to raise my fluctuating interest. Unfortunately, it's here that the weirdness ends. Kilkenny tastes... really normal. Like normal normal. Wake-up-at-ten-and-finish-that-pizza-you-bought-last-night normal. It goes down easy, it doesn't try to fight its way back up like Brian Blessed on Everest, There's really nothing catch interest. And that's big sin in my books. Even bad beer can be nice to drink as long as its different. This thing, though?
Nothing. I might just be drinking back home. At least it'd be cheaper.
Still, I suppose it's easy, like I said. If you need that thing on your hand and sometimes on your lips to pass time, this might as well be your choice. Just don't come crying to me when you can't even remember what it was that you drank. Nothing bad and nothing good. Plus minus zero. Unless you live in USA, in which case you'd be blessed to drink this.
Grade:
And with that, I'm outta stuff to say for tonight. Next up, I'm probably talk about Finnish store-variety beers. There's lot of shit to go through there, and lot of gabbing to do. Least not being to just what depths Finnish beers can sink into.
This is Big Bison, heading out west again.
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