As I straight, mad chill whilst listening to my nearly-completely-mixed new EP (coming soon), I find myself enjoying a real treat that I had only recently discovered: Pumpkin Ale. It’s a long story and I shall tell the whole damn thing as I am generally wont to do; but first, let me give a bit of back story. I was raised a poor… No. Too far. Let me fast forward through video games and all that silliness and just come to the more important point and that point is beer.
Now, we know that I love beer. Who doesn’t? Beer is glorious. Gangsta Vicki loves beer also. She mainly rolls with 40′s and all that sort of thing; cause, ya know, she’s gangsta, dig? But Gangsta-V, or V-Diddy if you prefer, kind of got me going on the more robust ales and hoppy dranks. I’d always been a “cheap” beer kind of dude. In college I drank “The Beast” and sometimes ‘Frat Light.’ Those, of course, would be Milwaukee’s Best and Natural Light. Ah, yes… I loved those beers. In fact, I drank “The Beast” red label. Oh yeah, motherfucker… No light beer for this cat. No sir. Full bodied flavor for a skinny ass drummer dude. I mean, more alcohol content and who gave a shit about calories back then, amirite? I was totes “whatev’s” back in the day, dawg.
I thought Miller Lite was “good” beer. Guess what? I STILL think Miller Lite is a good everyday beer. Hell, I drink Budweiser Select 55 as my everyday beer–either that or Michelob Ultra; but I still, to this day, get stoked when I realize that I can totally by myself a twelve of Miller Lite if I want to. You never lose that–I don’t think you ever should. If it’s fancy once, it’s always fancy. It’s when we grow too big to enjoy the good things in life and feel that we require the “good” things in life that we just miss the fucking point, in my very humble opinion. I like all three of those beers and I don’t roll with beer snobs who insist on touting a microbrew as the reason they deserve the oxygen they breathe and/or validate lack of erections and absence of personality. No offense to microbrews, either–I enjoy quite a few of them as well. I just don’t get why if you view something as “better” than something else that you have to disparage the thing that isn’t quite as fancy. Fuck snobbery. It’s just another instance of someone knowing about something that you don’t know about–and believing this knowledge somehow makes them better than another. Why that would ever make someone cool is beyond me. Good is good.
Theobold McDouchebaugh, last seen wearing two popped collars and a sweater tied around his neck. Authorities believe he was beaten to death by a rogue band of six year old girls.
Moving right the hell along…
As I said, I love beer. I also love wine; but I ain’t blogging about wine today. Nope. Today is beer. And not just any ole beer. No way, home-skillet. No, today we’re talking about seasonal brews and a very specific seasonal brew at that… (yes, i’m lending gravitas to this because pumpkin ale is the shiznittobangbang)
And O’ Brethren and Sistren! I speak of the glorious pumpkin ale!!!
Let me step off the pulpit a bit and tell you how I came upon this glorious concoction of spicy-alcoholic-goodness.
You see, four score and seven… Yeah, I don’t exactly remember. I just remember it was right around the time I got married. You see, we loaded up our truck with booze to take to the mountains and one of the types of beer we took with us was Einbecker Schwarzbier. Well, we loved that black lager so much that we decided to go see if they had any more when we got back from our honeymoon. They didn’t… BUT, I saw something that would forever change my autumn drinking habits… Pumpkin ale. Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale.
-Cue glorious choirs of angels-
First off, it’s a badass looking bottle and label. Second, it tasted crisp and spicy and pumpkin-y and awesome. I LOVE pumpkin pie with whipped cream. I love pumpkin seeds (roasted with garlic salt and pepper). I loved carving pumpkins when I was a kid. Fucking pumpkins are so much cooler than any other gourd-like squash in the entire fucking world. Suck it, other gourd-like squashes!
Mostly, I was just stoked I had found a new type of beer that somehow made autumn better, ya dig?
If you know me or have read enough of this here blog, you’ll know that I absolutely love autumn. Summer blows, dude. Yeah, yeah, I get it… Chicks in bikinis, dudes in banana hammocks… No big whoop for me. It’s too damn hot. It’s fine if you’re outside a lot; but I’m almost always chained to a desk. So fuck summer. Besides, thanks to genetics, I’m at a higher risk for skin cancer and like, fuck that, ya feel me? Not worth it. I fucking love the beach; but last time I checked, Nashville is landlocked until Cloverfield or Cthulhu decide to bite off most of the states east of us.
Yep. That's apparently a very decidedly female Cthulhu and he... er, she is wearing a bikini. I thought it might be a longshot; but I should have been assured I'd find it on the internet. Never doubt the internet, my friends... And be careful in your searches; for that way lies madness.
Well, barring any Old God snacking on North Carolina (no pic of that, sorry), I am landlocked, I do not really love summer and I like pumpkin products and beer. Moving right along…
At present, I have tasted four different kinds of pumpkin ale:
I like them all for different reasons. I have been holding off writing this blog because I had not yet found a store carrying my beloved Shipyard Pumpkinhead. But now, all that has changed…
I hold in my hand, an ice cold frosty mug full to the brim with the pimp of pumpkin, the Voivode of autumn brew, that difficult to find but worth the search ale known as the Head of Pumpkin. Now. Let us drink…
AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…
Nutmeg. Cream. Pumpkin. Cinnamon. Light. Rich. Exactly as I remember it tasted. Glorious.
“That’s all very nice, Jas; but this is a blog and we’re not drinking what you’re drinking so get to the frigging point, you ass-bag!” I imagine is probably close to what you’re saying; though, you may have called me an ass-clown–sometimes my inner psychic stops listening when you get pissy. Alas, you are correct. I shall not bother to try to tell you how it tastes or dance and taunt you verbally while flipping you the finger. No, dear friend… Not I. There are many other blogs that will describe the taste for you and I will let them do it. (clicky the link for a well-written synopsis of the taste of pumpkinhead ale. I do not know the young lady who has written the rather apt ode to our beloved Shipyard; but she does a far better job than me and does it with nice words instead of naughty, potty-type like yer ole buddy Jas).
Rather, I shall continue the tale of how Pumpkinhead and I became acquainted.
As I said, we were back from our honeymoon and we had gone in search of more Einbecker Schwarzbier–also a more difficult beverage to find in Nashville. Well, we didn’t find Einbecker but I looked around the store until I saw something that made my breath catch in my chest and my eyes widen in disbelief. Pumpkin beer? Not only that, but a bitching cool label of a headless horseman (only with his pumpkin head on his shoulders instead of chilling in his hand) brandishing a glass of his namesake brew. Now, you know I love me some video games and shit and I love myths and legends; so this label really caught the attention of my inner young drunk.
Let us pray...
I said something along the lines of, “PURE STOKE!” Or maybe it was, “MY! WHAT A FUCKING LOVELY MOTHERFUCKING LABEL! I DECLARE I SHOULD LIKE TO SQUIRT THIS SHIT DOWN MY TUBE!” It was probably unintelligible and involved a lot of excited hooting and whining at my wife to loan me tree-fiddy so I could buy it–cause, you know, singers be shopping and musicians be broke these days. Regardless, I cradled my treasure all the way home which is very hard to do and still drive; but I’ve seen people doing ninety on the interstate doing all of the following at once:
Smoking, drinking, eating, talking on the phone, changing lanes, flipping me off and applying makeup.
I figured holding my beer so no one looked at it wrong would be okay.
It was.
I saved the first drink for a special occasion so I could sit down and really dissect the flavor. I didn’t want to rush into it and just guzzle it without really being able to enjoy the taste–or not enjoy the taste and try to figure out what would make someone make a pumpkin ale. Yeah, I basically paced back and forth in front of the freezer until it was cold enough to drink–sigh… Okay, I’m lying. I cracked it before my wife had opened the front door. The point is that it was a flavor unlike anything I had ever tasted. It tastes like autumn and honeymoon and holidays and a roaring fire and turkey dinner and my wife’s toes after wrestling in pumpkin pie after a few too many…
Ahem.
Too many pumpkin beers and your wife's toes are only the start of things you probably shouldn't mention in polite blog company.
It fucking rocks, Brah!
Yes, I realize that I may have associated the flavor with a good time in my life and therefore have a soft spot; but it’s more than that. Shipyard is glorious. No question. Beer advocate does not agree with me. That’s okay. They’re excellent at what they do; but one should always remember to use a critic’s opinion as merely that–an opinion. Hipsters hate Coldplay. But I dig em. It’s okay to disagree. Drink what you like and what you like will… Ummm… Okay, so I don’t have an adage for that; but just trust me. Critics can RAVE over complete dog shit sometimes. They’re not always going to be right, especially in matters of taste.
Again, moving right the hell along…
I was only able to find one six pack of Pumpkinhead ale last year–by the time I knew about it and had luckily bought a sixer it was far too late to find any more. Believe me when I tell you that I used the remaining five sparingly. Unfortunately, six beers only last so long, ya feel me? Therefore, I knew this year I should totally be prepared to buy up all the damn pumpkin ale I could find. I succeeded to a point. I found lovely and glorious Saranac and Lakefront and to a lesser degree, but still refreshingly enjoyable, Blue Moon.
Alas, it was not until today that I found Pumpkinhead.
For that reason, I want to give a very thankful shout-out to Lewis’ Cigars and Brews in Nashville TN. If you are looking for a great cigar and beer shop, then this is your joint. There are several places in town that I dig; but man, Steve over at Lewis’ C&B was just an awesome dude. I called over there and not only did he have my Shipyard; but he had it at a great price and very amiably chatted me up about great brews and smokes. The place is really nice and clean and comfortable inside. When in Nashville, pop over there and tell him Jas says hi. Oh yeah, join up on his email list and you get a 5% discount on your brews–%10 on your stogie.
Some schmuck touching my frigging Pumpkinhead ale. That guy just looks like trouble... But... Ummm... You should definitely buy his album.
So as before stated, I’m really not your guy if you like actual reviews or synopses about… Well, anything! I tend to write in a stream of consciousness style and therefore suck it. Ahem, what I mean is THHHHPPPPBBBBB!!!
I ain’t writing no damn term paper here! I’m enjoying a nice cold beverage and giving shout-outs to other nice cold beverages.
But seriously, folks. If you’re never tried a pumpkin ale before, then you’re missing out. They’re all different and they’re (so far) all wonderful. Saranac and Lakefront are just fucking incredibly great. Shipyard Pumpkinhead is the very same. If you’re more into just a hint of pumpkin and spice and not a fan of the sweeter varieties, then Blue Moon is your bag.
I don’t recommend drinking any of these one after another. My thought on that is always more like, start with the heavier or sweeter or more novelty brews. Have one or two. Move on to your everyday beer. These “nicer” beers or shall we say, ‘flavored’ beers really do taste better in single or double servings. More than that and it starts to lose its panache, its character and moreover, you couldn’t fucking tell the difference between em after a few anyway. Why waste them?
Good beer and wine are not for the guzzling. They’re your fancy friends. They’re your friends that you want to think that you’re a wine and sushi cat all week long. Sip em. Cool out with em. Then go party with your club friends.
…
Holy fuck balls, dude…
I’m talking like a hipster again!
I need some cheap beer.
Excuse me. I need to go turn on the foosball game and put my hand down the front of my pants. GO TEAM!
In all seriousness, thanks and mad love and respect to Saranac, Lakefront, Shipyard, Blue Moon and Lewis’ Cigars and Brews; you all make and sell great products! Thanks for being good sports. Cheers!
