My Fellow Inebriates,
As promised, here’s a companion review to my rave about Cariboo Brewing’s honey lager. It took me until late this afternoon to compose my thoughts because I missed my habitual bender last night when one of the kids elected me stuffy du nuit, which meant I couldn’t escape her five-year-old clutches all night long, people. Fast asleep, she couldn’t sense my delirium tremens but nevertheless maintained an iron clutch all night long. Love those kids…
Where was I? Oh yeah, I woke up grumpy—grumpy and discarded, forgotten in the breakfast scramble, and not a drink in sight to get me back to normalcy.
Once I resigned myself to pancakes on the table and not shooters, I skulked around the empties for a while, slurping out the dregs. This is how I have to pull myself together, living as I do under the veil of hypocrisy that surrounds drinking in this house. Just as my parents frown on pre-breakfast imbibing, so do they also point fingers at my lack of any ID indicating a legal drinking age. I’m a bear, humans—how many bears do you know with a driver’s license?
The empties gave me what I needed, and now I can tell you about Cariboos (that’s what it looks like on the can) Cream Ale. Ahhhh! Delectable stuff. Creamy, smooth, not too sweet: everything a cream ale should be.
My dad commented that it wasn’t as fizzy as he would have liked. But it’s not like my dad’s writing any liquor reviews, is he? I liked it fine. It wasn’t lacking effervescence the way Boddington’s is; it was absolutely within the typical fizz range and enough to tickle my fur. Yes, this morning’s dregs were completely flat, but they retained the character of several nights previous, which tells me I could do anything with Cariboos. I could let it sit out a few hours, heat it up, put it in the blender, whatever, and it would still be awesome.
I totally RECOMMEND buying a case of this beer, because Cariboo Brewing plants a tree for every case sold, which gives me something to climb up when toddlers attack.