booze

KILLER BEE Dark Honey Ale

My Fellow Inebriates,

For a bear, anything with “honey” on the label is an instant sell. My dad actually picked this beer out for me, which surprised me so much that my fur is still standing on end. He said since I was being pretty consistent about writing reviews, it was time I had something off the beaten path.

It’s true that bears love honey. My friend Scarybear claims that when he’s in the wild he sticks his paw right into any old hive he finds, pulls out globs of honey, and devours it bees and all.

(This is as stupid an image as I can conjure in my furry head, given that the Scarybear I know spends hours on the couch watching reruns of Stargate and begging his humans to order pizza.)

That aside, when beer and honey intersect, alcoholic bears get excited. The Tin Whistle Brewing Company, in business since 1995, specializes in English-style pale ales, and KILLER BEE Dark Honey Ale is crafted with four types of specialty honey.

Only I can’t taste honey in it. Swirled in a glass, KILLER BEE wafts cocoa and molasses up front, with toffee following. First sips are roasty, toasty, malty with chocolate predominating but not cloying. There’s almost a peatiness to it, an earthy, deep quality that hints of an Islay whisky. Think deep, sonorous tones if you’re into musical analogy.

KILLER BEE is almost stoutish but not quite. (It’s almost a lot of things, including honey-flavored.) While the mouthfeel is full, it’s surprisingly crisp. Initially the carbonation struck me as low, but a few sips convinced me that the Tin Whistle people really hit it on the money.

I am really freaking scared of killer bees, and I totally admire Tin Whistle for courting them so dangerously with this dark, intriguing offering. At 6% alcohol, KILLER BEE is boozy and warming—the perfect sipper while sitting on the couch watching TV. But the flavors are so dessert-like that one’s enough—you need to have something else ready to drink when you’re done with your KILLER BEE. I RECOMMEND it more as a curiosity than as a beer for pounding.

ASTROLIQUOR for Nov. 4-10

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

Tensions at home may be too much for you at the moment, Aries, so here’s a temporary escape hatch:

  • 1 oz gin (check out my BEEFEATER review)
  • 1 oz cream of coconut
  • 1 cup frozen strawberries

Blend with a cup of ice, then garnish with one mint sprig. I know this is kind of a silly drink for you, Aries, but you have some bad shit going on and you need busy work to distract you. Count to ten while blending, and make sure the lid is on.

You’ve been spending a lot of time in your own head, Taurus, developing your emotional side. You’ve realized you need to spend at least as much time on personal pursuits such as drinking as you do on work. So pop some champagne, funnel some pear liqueur into it and take it outside for a nice aimless walk.

This week features real estate and efforts to focus on business, Gemini, so you’ll have to drink a little more to relax. Here’s a start:

  • 1 oz rum (check out my Appleton review)
  • 1/2 oz black sambuca
  • 1 tsp cherry brandy
  • 1/2 oz lemon juice

Often plagued by memory dropouts, Cancers get upset easily and need sweet, comforting drinks. Try mixing apple juice and cognac in a 2:1 ratio, seven or eight times, then practice finding things that are missing. Sometimes I look for my genitals this way.

This week people are boring the crap out of you, Leo, and a few drinks may be required to make them more tolerable. Your patience is thin so get a trained bartender to make you several of these:

  • 2 oz watermelon liqueur
  • 1 oz Blue Curacao
  • 1 oz Stoli cranberry vodka
  • 4 oz sweet-and-sour mix
  • 2 oz Sprite

Put a cherry on top and pound a bunch of these. People should start to seem more interesting.

Virgo gets some bad news this week related to a friend’s health. You’ll need to get messed up with something so bizarre that it prevents you from thinking. Here’s my best suggestion:

  • 1 oz anisette
  • 1.5 oz Kahlua
  • 1/2 cup pineapple juice

You’re welcome.

This is the week to descend on a friend, Libra, bearing tequila and tabasco. Knock it back and get naked.

Take it easy and call in sick, Scorpio—chill with a some strawberry cream liqueur and cinnamon schnapps. Sounds gross perhaps, but if you mix them in an even ratio, you’ll become nicer.

Sagittarius, your spending has been out of control, so it’s time to scavenge through your liquor cabinet and make do with what’s there. How about mixing equal parts vodka and schnapps with whatever juice you have in the fridge? Failing that, go to the bar and mooch.

You have turbulent feelings this week, Capricorn, and it’s your job to bury them so they don’t bother others. Combine melon liqueur, Curacao and pineapple juice, then pound it. You’ll get sick before you get drunk, which will keep you out of people’s way.

You’ll receive an answer to one of your complaint letters this week, Aquarius, and you’ll be happy for a minute, but then you’ll realize the motherf#cker didn’t address your complaint, and then you’ll start drinking in anger. You’re frustrated, so here’s something elaborate to keep you from going out on a rampage:

  • 1 oz rum
  • 3/4 oz EACH dry and sweet vermouth
  • 1/2 tsp cherry liqueur
  • 1/4 cup orange juice
  • 1 tbsp lime juice

Pisces, you need to start thinking about looking for a job. Give it a try, then come back home and mix up some gin, triple sec and Blue Curacao. Add some lemon and bitters, and soon it won’t matter whether you’re employed or not.

BEEFEATER Gin

BEEFEATER gin seems to hold a lot of reminiscences for just about everyone I meet. Perhaps because it’s so ubiquitous, or perhaps because it’s just that good. But chances are, if you’ve had a G&T at any reputable booze hole, it was made with BEEFEATER.

I went to the corporate website (drunk) and found it almost unnavigable, so without benefit of its wisdom I’ll give you my tasting impressions.

BEEFEATER is the most juniper-laced gin I’ve ever tried. In addition to juniper it contains eight other botanicals, the perfect choreography of which dates back to the 1860s when founder James Burrough perfected the recipe.

This sort of pedigree would make me feel comfortable drinking gin with the very elderly. If I were invited to an old-age home to entertain the residents, I’d take along some BEEFEATER and feel absolutely immune from any grey-haired judgment. After all, it was the drink for our elders back in the day, and chances are your granny and granddad were lit up on BEEFEATER all day long.

As forthright as its crazy botanical assortment of flavors is, BEEFEATER is one smooth gin. It won’t ravage your throat, it won’t suddenly disgust you, and it won’t make you thoroughly ill the next day.

If, long ago, you ever managed to sneak a sip from a doddering relative’s gin & tonic, chances are it was garnished with lemon. That’s the English way and perfectly lovely; the North American translation is with lime, and that’s great too. The Liquorstore Bear way is to use both, or any, or neither. With the LB method, tonic is optional too.

My dad thinks of gin as a summer drink and has therefore refused to buy me any, so I am going to appeal to BEEFEATER Corporate to send me some of their newer BEEFEATER 24 product to review for you. I will mention the difficulty I had navigating their website while hosed in the hopes that this will persuade them of my seriousness as a reviewer and my commitment to their beautiful gin. And of course I will assure them that I will in all likelihood RECOMMEND it alongside the tried-and-true original. Wish me luck, humans.