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New Glarus Home Town Blonde, Ditsy with notes of peroxide.

What do we have from these Wisconsin scamps up in their frozen tundra north of the wall? A fucking blonde ale? I will say this outright, New Glarus is the Frank Thomas of the beer game, if they whiff it is a solid strike out, but when they get a piece of it, that shit is out of the park.  There is no middle ground with these guys.  Let’s see if this blonde is natural or out of the box in today’s review.

Maybe I just haven't visited enough home towns in Wisconsin to encounter this variety of blonde.

Maybe I just haven’t visited enough home towns in Wisconsin to encounter this variety of blonde.

New Glarus Brewing, Blonde Ale/Pilsner(?) 4.8%

Here’s their pitch:
“Expect to pour an elegant blonde glass of beer, crowned with a rich head of foam that resonates with our chorus of hops. Although delicate in appearance, our Hometown Blonde has a backbone, but of course that’s no surprise in Wisconsin. Enjoy!”

Well go ahead and expect whatever the fuck you would like, but reality will set in shortly and you will realize you are drinking a glass of Bud Dry with a flabbier malt grist.  It has this tarnished brass bedpost like the one nana used to handcuff you to, some ho hum carbonation and a forgettable affair altogether.

"What is Reality Czech? Is it waxed? I AM ABOVE DRINKING PILSNERS"

“What is Reality Czech? Is it waxed? I AM ABOVE DRINKING PILSNERS”

The smell? Well if you have ever worked in a cream corn factory you will appreciate these kernel nuances of sweet yard trimmings from the local dog park, those ULTRA AGGRO Saaz hops what with their 4% alpha acids, a sweetness like crescent rolls dropped on the floor, and a cloying bready sweetness of old baguette.

Surely the taste rolls out something more substantial? It’s kinda like dropping 150 roses on a craigslist casual encounter and it looks exactly like the picture: depressing. If you like sweeeeet pilsners and miss the old days of Budweiser select, you will like this buttery biscuit paired excellently with a KFC double down.  It doesn’t deliver on the cleanliness of a pilsner and the sacharrine from the bready notes keeps the hops from accomplishing anything.  The closer is like it was randalled through a Coinstar machine with a faintly metallic alkaline that makes my tastebuds and testicles recoil like a frightened turtle.

TFW you give your normal friends a craft pilsner and have to listen to their bullshit

TFW you give your normal friends a craft pilsner and have to listen to their bullshit

New Glarus does so many things so well, perhaps the 3 months of sunlight that Wisconsin enjoys makes this beer ill suited for the refreshing sessionable side of things.  Maybe I don’t know shit about Frank Thomas.

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New Glarus Laughing Fox. The Midwest is no Laughing Matter.

Go ahead, laugh at the fox. It only shows your own insecurities.

New Glarus Laughing Fox, Kristal Weizen, 4.5% abv

Alright, enough beating up on other states, time to enjoy winter in Wisconsi- ok fine, on with the review.

A: Well I get the weizen, there’s a deep gold hue like those peddlers in those rich diverse ethnic markets in Milwaukee [FN1 never been there.] It has a rich foamy frothy carbonation that is astounding. Literally, I polished my monocle and pulled a double take at the soapy overflow. Been polishing my monocle quite a bit recently.

S: This has a great cinnamon, clove, banana and belgian trappist ester finish to it. Smells like nana’s blanket that she cools pies upon. New Glarus burned me so bad with the Wisconsin Red and Tart that that Berliner Weiss and R+D Geuze brought me back to neutral, this might just win me over.

This beer makes me feel like I am the butt of an intelligent joke that I just don't apprehend.

T: This is difficult to describe because it’s like describing the absence of a quality to prove its existence, the old History channel/John Locke/every epistemologist way of things. I hope you are very perceptive because the banana and clo- its gone. That fast. This makes the taste of Rolling Rock seem resonant by contrast. I feel like posting a Craigslist missed encounters ad because the half second is so sweet. But, then again, my inbox is already full of so many penis .gifs, I will refrain.

M: Well, imagine the evanescent taste and- yup the mouthfeel is gone. Are you even drinking beer? It’s an exercise in rationalism, its like ding an sich, I dont know if this beer really exists because it is a ghost and I have almost no faculty to apprehend it. Grasping at the watery malt phantom is frustrating and perhaps brilliant marketing because the glass just menacingly drains. I am like the reverse version of Mickey Mouse in Fantasia, you know when he, wait what?

It aspires to greatness, but, something is off.

D: I guess extremely? This depends on if you enjoy your beers seen and not heard [FN2 tasted.] You could seem like a complete champion drinking a case of these at a party, providing you take your old cranberry pills first. Just, lots of urine, that’s basically what I am getting at here. The sweet lil honey ester kiss is like a 5th grade smooch and then, boom gone, and you’re left with empty beer bottles, just like 5th grade. Cursive is hard.

Narrative: It wasn’t that Devin Manning had a disinterest in the corporeal world. I mean sure, he wanted to pass on into the aether, but his attention span was so limited that “fulling his higher purgatorial obligations” just seemed so daunting. “Charles? Come try this pie for me, mmm careful!” Devin would swoop over and inhabit Charles’s mouth for a moment, and then rush away to investigate what was just purchased at Sharper Image. “GOD DAMNIT DEVIN,” phastasmagorial overseer translord of ward IV, aka Ghost Boss, boomed through the house. “Devin, fulfill their palates with flavor, you’re clearly not trying. Do you even give a shit about heaven? Do you want to meet Beatrice?” Devin just gave a weak mealymouthed reply and pushed chinese checkers balls around idly. “Ahhhh, I dont care if this family dont got enough sense to use coriander or boost protein dishes with boullion stock, WHAT’S THAT MY OLD BUSINESS!” Ghost Boss looked down his will o’ the wispy brow and stated solemly, “Devin, you are a flavor ghost of the lower order, you give people with very little taste a fleeting glimpse at greater things, you are fulfilling a debt for listening to Semisonic and the Spin Doctors. You see you lived a life completely devoid of any real taste.” Devin stopped listening and began rifling through a nearby drawer of Dubstep cds. “GOD DAMNIT THESE PEOPLE HAVE NO TASTE.”