Thursday, September 27, 2012

[A Beer a Day] Punkin Ale | Dogfish Head Brewing | Milton, DE

[An Avenue] is back to celebrate the great beer month of October, a period of 31 days fondly indexed inside my malt-addled brain as the Beer Advent -- an anthology of festivities ranging from the beer-Carnivál known as Oktoberfest, to the SXSW-like, Beer-di-Gras of GABF -- then mercifully ending with the fraudiest-of-children's-holidays distorted to be a massive carousal of adult excess and dumbfuckery.  Typically, that involves feasting on trial-sized Kit Kats and reveling in bombers of chocolate stout while passing out the shittiest of leftovers from my bowl.

And, yes, even in between those heavyweight events are loads of beer festivals, beer weeks, and pre-planned benders designed to create an assemblage of  two-or-more neckbeards within a reasonably close proximity in the name of great beer and troublesome abdominal fat.

The Fall season is essentially beer Christmas, and October serves as the equinox from summer's wheats, pilsners, and saisons to the Autumnal flavors of spiced ales, porters, and stouts.

[An Avenue] will commemorate The Great Beer Month by discussing Pumpkin Ales -- a polarizing style in the world of craft, undone by the carelessness of particulates handled in bulk by the Big Brewers and their chicanery.

The offices of [AA] remain squarely neutral on the style until further potable research can be attained and carefully dissected by our bloodstreams and metabolized by our livers.  Any preconceivences will be dispelled in the name of standardization -- however, our prior stance on the style is that Pumpkin beers rely far too heavily on the properties of baked pumpkin goods, like pie or quick bread, and feature characteristics such as nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, and ginger, instead of the natural, mealy, earthy deliciousness of the pumpkin marrow itself.

So, welcome to [AA]'s multi-part series called Pumps in a Bump: Ignis Fatuus Drinkus


Being a very, very recent liquid-gourd enthusiast, one of only two pumpkin beers that I was typically able to enjoy in the past was Dogfish Head's Punkin Ale.  I have given Punkin a good rodgering in the fall months going back several years, and it has largely averted my disappointment with the style entirely. 

Superfans of the brilliant Dogfish Head founder and brewer, Sam Calagione, will likely have seen the meticulous process by which this particular beer is governed by the brewery in the short lived series, Brew Masters, where in one episode of Punkin brewing, the brewery voluntarily destroyed several palettes of Punkin that had not met their quality standards.  Given that -- at the time of filming -- Punkin Ale was Dogfish Head's 6th-best-selling beer, despite only being available on the market for two Fall months; it was an extraordinary account of best-practice by the brewery.  Dogfish Head just doesn't mess around without benchmarks, criterion, or self-efficacy.

One may have also seen in the documentary film, Beer Wars -- in which Sam is heavily featured -- the brewery's litigious battle with A-B InBev (that's right, Budweiser, the largest brewer in the world by more than double their closest competitors, MillerCoors) over rights to use the name "Punkin", despite Dogfish Head's origination of the name.  A-B InBev threw their massively intimidating and heavily-lawyer'd weight around Milton, Deleware in an attempt to caustically dissolve the brewery under the guise of fair use practice.  Why?  Because Dogfish Head -- along with the 2,000 other U.S. microbreweries COMBINED -- cut into 3% of A-B InBev's potential earnings beyond their $36 billion revenue.  What A-B InBev spends on attorney retainers alone, Dogfish Head probably spends on their entire production, labor, and distribution costs altogether.

But, hey, I'm digressing.  The Punkin Ale, remember?

Yes, the Punkin Ale continues to be available under its original monicker, and continues to be distributed to a fortunate few set of grocery and liquor stores.  But if you can happen across it, it is definitely not to be missed.

Straight away, Punkin Ale gets off to a GREAT start, and my theory is because the base beer itself is a clever little pallet-friendly brown ale; one which makes several cameos in Dogfish Head's catalog of similarly creative, medium-bodied beers.

In fact, Dogfish Head almost features the base beer along with nuanced, mild-but-savvy pumpkin notes, making Punkin Ale a HUGE departure from the typically over-spiced, baked-pumpkin-pie beer that I was discussing previously.

Yes, the gourd's marrow in Punkin Ale is subtle for a typically strong-flavored fruit, but its like an acoustic set of Mötley Crüe, or scrunched footsteps in the snow -- if you listen intently enough, the chords and the tread become more concentrated as it evolves, making it altogether MUCH more prevalent and enjoyable by ounces 11 and 12.  There is no palatal fatigue because its so thoughtfully attenuated throughout.

The fall spices of nutmeg, cinnamon, brown sugar, and allspice are merely backing vocalists to the harmony of Punkin Ale.  And its lightly-malted, bready-yeast plays a nice auxiliary pie-crust percussion to keep the beer on tempo.

It seems as though this series is off to a very positive start.

ABV: 7.o%
Acquired: Spec's
Musical Pairing: Gomez | Liquid Skin (1999)

Friday, September 14, 2012

[A Beer a Day] Devil Dancer Triple IPA vs. Breakfast Stout | Founder's Brewing | Grand Rapids, MI

I.  This World May Lack Style, I Know.

You are about to read the 100th beer entry on [An Avenue].  Congratulations on making it this far, Avenuelings.  To be frank, reading about beer is about as mundane as watching a show on cooking.

I don't really read any of the other fafillion beer blogs on the interporns because the topic bores the daylights out of me, really.  They tend to get muddled with adjectives and descriptives about the beer itself without describing the experience behind it -- something that we here at [AA] feel is THE quintessential ingredient in fermented beverages.

Whereas watching something as insipid as 30-Minute Meals on the telly is the most remarkable waste of time imaginable, [AA] strives to be something more like No Reservations or Good Eats.  We think that a beer-mentor hybrid of someone who is part-Alton Brown and part-Anthony Bordain is right up our avenue -- if you would be so kind as to pardon the pun.   Brown and Bordain present food and adventure as belief-intersecting-opinion using impossible sentences and dry wit when describing the experience of food -- and not necessarily the food itself.

In an overstatement of my capabilities, [AA] strives to reflect that same philosophy; essentially reviewing myself  through the medium of beer instead of peeling back each layers of the bottle's contents and telling a reader what he or she should be tasting.  I simply don't have the expertise to do that since I'm neither a brewer or a barkeep.  I simply want to describe to you how I feel about the shit I'm drinking.

Even worse are the YouTube reviewers.  I'm not particularly fond of watching some fleshy dumptruck in Missoula orgasm over the beer facial he's receiving from Three Floyd's, as he describes bubble gum, alpha acids, and alligator nut sweat emanating from his foamy pour.  These videos always have the same ghoulish-grainy look as if filmed by the Kabul branch of The Taliban's Cranial Removal Department -- and contain about the same amount of topical charm as well.

I'll be honest.  I'm surprised that I've lasted as long as I have writing about a singular topic, albeit, one that could be discussed ad infinitum due to its enormous -- and perpetually evolving -- inventory.  How much can one really say about beer?  Not a whole fucking lot, really.  But how much can one say about drinking beer?  Volumes. 

I can't even tell you at what point in the trajectory this page is currently on.  Originally, I set out to start a site where I could talk to my son about all the cool shit he should know pertaining to music -- (and has now spun-off into its own section of the internet like Daria to [AA]'s Beavis & Butthead)  where, again, not coming from the perspective of a musician, but a scenester-ish 30-something fan of getting the fuck down to some jams.  In between, I talked about beer because I needed more inventory than just music clips and emotional pussery.

Plus, I wanted to document how I was plowing through the beer cellar without the regret of uncorking a five-year vintage on a Tuesday evening, in a pics-or-it-didn't-happen, sort of way.

But MOST-est of all, I wanted to start [AA] so that I could write myself a living, evolving, bottle-fermenting resumé -- so that if the opportunity ever came along for me to do something like this professionally, I will have had some sort of evidence that I am semi-literate and as critically testy as a feminist.

I am wishing that [AA] will continue to be a trending destination for the purpose of -- not beer review -- but beer discussion.  So far, it seems to have gained momentum in readership, which is great to see, despite my objectivity to personal accolade and ballyhoo.  I just don't fancy a floodlight of praise -- but will freely admit that the vibration of an audience has kept me completely motivated to keep drinking myself to death and writing about it.  So, thank-you, jerks.

Still, it is time to re-evaluate where it is I am trying to go with [AA]; and the proclivity to keep writing despite the overwhelming fatigue that comes with a demanding professional and familial schedule -- time, energy, and productivity are enormous commodities at the [AA] household.  My hope is that it is a long time from now, after I've got this all out of my system, I can look back on [AA] to the very first post and say that my point was clear:  

This is my New Years resolution ...

Pretty ambitious, amirite?

I'll probably talk about what everyone else talks about: mundane shit with an outside shot of accidental wit, which personally revolves around the subjects of beer, lad rock, and how much Tim Tebow resembles a choad.

Single fucks you should give: 0

But you should read this anyway since this weblog has sat dormant since I created it FIVE years ago [at the] Copper Star Coffee Shop [in Phoenix], then was mightily distracted by a strawberry cream cheese cupcake -- back before cupcakes were contemporary desserts baked only for the Proletariat. Now, cupcakes are only handed out to the bourgeoisie hanging out below bridges with Pitbull and his Diet Dr Pepper crew. 
The point prevails that both beer and Eng-er-lish boy-rock continue to be awesome and relevant.  Is it also still holds that Tim Tebow is still a Jesus-breathing, genital applicator who has forced me to abstain from wearing undershirts forever.  That was it.  That was the whole point, it looks like.  Perhaps I should redouble my efforts.

One thing I do know for certain is that personal narrative will never reap the rewards of heavy-volume traffic than it would if I just aggregated a bunch of beer articles and splashed them on my front page.  What's the fun in that?  I want someone to read [AA] because they want to hear something interesting, and then return because they find it useful.

Finally, what in the entire fuck am I talking about in this tl;dr intro?  Oh nothing.  I'm just trying to get across in the most long-winded way that [AA] is going on sabbatical for a little while in order to gather up some fresh perspective -- maybe just enjoy beer for the sake of enjoying it again without having to think about it too much; minimize the caveat of writing out of obligation and illiterati disillusionment.  Maybe move on to reviewing hard drugs.

But as Mark Renton would say, Let's be clear about this, there's final hits and final hits. What kind was this to be? 

II.  Each Bud Must Blossom and Grow 

The Question.


Totally inconvenient for me because I never really have a proper answer to give.  And I don't have a proper answer to give because I don't think I have ever came to a real consensus.

What is my favorite beer?  Hell, I don't know -- apart from the obvious and ancient punchline:, 'free beer', I guess.  I don't play favorites.  Most-anticipated seasonal release?  That's a fairer question.  But favorite?  I don't know, like, ever?

I've already committed myself to one woman, so, I'm leaving all my beer options available.

I do, however, have a beer I really feel compelled to drink during the best of times -- and it is possible that I consider it the ceiling by which to measure all others because of this pragmatic consideration. 

And if there is a heaven, then surely there must be some sort of beer hell -- the antithesis of what I consider a compelling, outstanding potable.  Though these would appear easier to find, there are many beers that are already predetermined to be shitty due to the standards of the breweries themselves: Bud Light Chelada, Natural Ice, Old English, Sam Adams Lager.

But finding a true baseline for my palate goes beyond any kind of incapability from breweries like The Big Three -- but, rather a frivolous attempt at a gimmick by one of the most-respected brewers in the brewniverse.

III.  Young Girl, One Day You Will Be Old

Wait just one second, did I just get totally trolled? ...

I did.  I did just get totally trolled by one of my favorite brewers.  I got kicked in the nuts by Founder's and then put in a locker all Wonder Years-style for being a puss.  I'm, like 'Haaans ... Boobie ... I'm your white knight', and then [spoiler warning] got capped in the skull while I stared stupidly in my seat.

All I could do after drinking this was bite my shirt collar and moan the lyrics to Under the Bridge in a steady rocking motion.  I don't ever wanna feeeel.  Like I did that day.

Kiedis surely must have been on the vertically downward end of one of these red devils.  90s schlock-alternative is all so clear to me now.

And just like RHCP covered Stevie's Higher Ground with much more amplitude and vivacity, Founder's is attempting to replicate Dogfish Head's 120 IPA with chainsaws and 17-string guitars.  Fuck this noise.  Devil Dancer's entire intention was to grab me by the balls and keep twisting while stroking its hubristic stiffy.  Sick.  Just sick.  It is difficult to look myself in the eye at all now.

My initial tasting notes as I attempted the Everest called Devil Dancer were of hot, resin-y candi syrup, extremely aggressive booze, and the enamel from my stripped teeth.  Mmmm, right?!

I didn't want to fail, so I continued for maybe another 10 ounces before being worn out from the tonsil beating.  I really didn't want to call my insurance to see if I was covered for this, so I gave up.  I humorously put my tulip of remaining Devil Dancer in the refrigerator "for later", knowing that I could fool my sensibilities into drain-pouring it in the morning because "oops, musta forgot about it!".  But I wouldn't forget.  Nope. Not when there was a badger living in my fridge, raping the vegetables and pillaging the meats.

This is the stuff that, if I had a little brother, I would make him drink it and laugh at his gory demise.  Luckily, I have a wife who is good for that.  As a bonus, she had a friend over for the evening.  Double-trouble!

Okay, so I fell for the most hilarious prank in Founder's repertoire of beers -- and in my defense, it was MUCH more drinkable when I had it in a 6oz serving at the brewery last year --  but at $20 per 4-pack, I think I'll pass on being goosed in the future.

ABV: 12.o%
Acquired: BevCo (Traverse City)
Musical Paring: Weezer | Raditude (2009)

IV.  But the Thing is, I Love You Now
Can you believe that the same brewer that milks the teats of demons, also fashions one of the handsomest beers on the planet?  There is no better sign of imminent relief from summer than the release of Founder's Breakfast Stout.  Whereas Devil Dancer is the despair of heat, Breakfast Stout is the anticipation of Autumn's blanch.

Double chocolate.  Coffee.  Oatmeal.  8% alcohol.

All the essential flavors of the impending holiday season, plus the joyful tingle of being as cabbaged as your grandfather at suppertime.

Although I'm a stouts-for-all-seasons advocate, Breakfast Stout is only really appropriate at the first nip.  Therefore, if you're asking me, what beer do you most anticipate; here is your answer. 

Breakfast Stout has also taken on several other duties as one of the country's liquid treasures, serving as the base beer for its more mature and adventurous cousins, Kentucky Breakfast Stout (aged in Kentucky bourbon barrels) and Canadian Breakfast Stout (aged in spent maple-syrup bourbon barrels).

Still, as a seasonally standard offering, the original is the best out of the entire Founder's catalog, or any other brewery's for that matter.

ABV: 8.3%
Acquired: Jack's Market, Traverse City (RIP)
Musical Paring: Youth Lagoon | The Year of Hibernation (2011)

V.  This is the Last Song I Will Ever Sing

No, I changed my mind again.  GOODNIGHT.  AND THANK-YOU. 

Friday, September 7, 2012

[A Beer a Day] Resin Double IPA | Sixpoint Brewing | Brooklyn, NY

Ugh.  My brain has been playing catch-up with my extremities all day long after a battle with an ornery final pint last night while out with some friends -- and then, of course, the inevitable final-final-last-pint-at-home that is almost always a bad idea.  As GOB would say 'I've made a huge mistake'.  So, I'm writing all of this in somewhat of a delirium.

What I do remember, is starting off my night with a Double IPA, or DIPA for short -- a very dear pal of [AA]'s whom I've kept in my close social circle despite frequent taunts of drunkery, instigation for dumbassery, and persistent political messages through Ecard on Facebook.

Through our collaboration with each other, I've decided that DIPAs are for home consumption only, and drinking any number beyond one in public would be like 4Loko-ing on the Juarez Metro.  And if you ride lil' Baghdad's public transit, you will have a bad time.  Home is a place that has been logistically set up by me when in the state of complete cognizance so that I know all of the soft places to land when contrastingly DIPA'd.

DIPAs are a style that the beer occult have determined to be a noble style, thereby promoting the demand for a difficult, nuanced, style to be made by brewers good and not-so-good at it.   This means that there is a hefty selection of poorly constructed DIPAs out on the market, and its often hard to vet which are worth plopping down the $15 for.

The state of Texas has been on an incredible streak lately in regards to prominent American microbreweries realizing the fists of oil cash we have stuffed in our Stetson jeans, and thus, have started importing, so to speak, by the scooter-load. (See, 'cos, brewers do eco-things like ride bikes and Vespas)

And so, Six Point anoints we Texans with another DIPA to evaluate.

Well, shit dudes, we welcome you and your DIPA!  Why didn't you fucking say so?  I would have rode my own Linus Fixie up to meet you half way.

The first characteristic that you will notice about this beer, is that the vessel is shaped like a phallus.  My best judgement of this reason is that they want it represent the allegory that they are going to put this DIPA in your ass with no lube.  Yes, now after sampling it, they DO want you to be prepared for a hop dong in an uncomfortable place.

I'm all in.  I do unapologetically love me some ultra-strong, ultra bitter, ultra muddled DIPA.  Resin certainly has all of those issues, like a radical problem child tearing through a dentist office Highlights Magazine.  It is wonderfully abrasive, sweet, and hoppy.  Earthy, dense, ... um, resin-y.  There are pulpy fruits like mango and papaya, balanced out with cured tea leaves steeped in cold base beer.  There is a ton of booze here and it doesn't hide well.  But nevermind that, its just hard to sit right now.  This is tough love.

ABV: 9.1%
Acquired: East 1st Grocery
Musical Pairing: Dirty Projectors | Swing Lo Magellan (2012)

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

[A Beer a Day] The Rodeo Stout Series: Beer Geek / Weasel / Whiskey Barrel | Jester King & Mikkeler Brewing | Austin, TX / Copenhagen, DK

Welp, kids ... THIS is how you kick off the feckin' football season -- frivolously shock-and-awe-bombing my lightly-battered, summer-dressed internal organs at the hands of Jester King's Rodeo Series; three potent bottles of limited-release stouts collected and cellared at various points within the last five months for the primary purpose of getting kicked in the nuts during the finest day in sport.

The tricky balance of tackling three heavily-composed beers while watching Michigan State collectively dork through the first important game of the season is staying empathetic of my Sparty-wife's unrealistic offensive play-scheming, staying sprite enough for witty banter during her awesomely improper football aggressions, and yet, still allowing the precious beer venom to slowly resolve my vitals from fatty connective tissue into rendered protein goop.

Lately, [An Avenue] has become like the unofficial online resumé for Jester King's seasonal beers inventory, and though I consider myself a fan, I'm a bit annoyed at myself for participating in the same behavior as those in their cult; a collection of local beer nerds whom I am profoundly unfond of. 

Still, Jester King does have to be recognized as Austin's representative in the mythical National Beer Senate due to their presence outside of the state and the value at which their product can be traded, and thus far on [AA], we've consumed and cataloged Bonnie the Rare, Drink'in the Sunbelt, Noble King, Thrash Metal, Boxer's Revenge, and Das Wonderkind to the tune of six, mostly-benign reviews.

But where Jester King makes up for its butter-face, is in the legs and ass of their sours and stouts.  And as gracious as I was for opening night of college football, I was triple that for opening night of these heavy and dense Jester King stouts -- despite the atrocity of Austin's re-emergent 100 degree thermafuck.

But, if you care enough about something it is almost impossible to stop yourself doing it.  So we dropped the A/C like it was cheap, poured ourselves a quality flight of beer, and rejoiced about the beginning of the greatest four months on our calendar.

Beer Geek, Weasel Rodeo, and Whiskey Rodeo are the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th beers brewed in collaboration with gypsy-brewer Mikkeler, which implies that some collective thought and skill was imparted into this line.  But I am also cautious of overpraising a series that may yet disappoint, because often times, the fates dictate that collaboration beers are contrived and loutish -- and there is no more applicable example than my previous encounter with Drink'in the Sunbelt.  This time, I was hoping Jester King and Mikkeler shan't let those fates dictate the quality of this beer.

Finally, as a general parameter, and to be fair to the beer, our palates, and the lives of all within a 20 mile radius, we poured approximately 6 ounces of each 750mL bottle into tulips for sampling, before selecting the remains of each beer at random by which to get annihilated -- because, well, this isn't 'Nam.

The first sample was also the first in the entire series, an imperial oatmeal stout released in the latter part of Spring -- back when the city was still all megalolz about our tepid winter (so why the hell not crush a stout right about now?).  And though I am a big advocate of 'stouts for all seasons', with thick ingredients like smoked malts, Vietnamese coffee, and chipotle peppers, it was probably best to let this one beast in the cellar for a bit.

My immediate impression -- and that of my interception-worn Spartan -- was that Beer Geek was A-L-I-V-E with perfectly roasted coffee and beautifully imparted chili notes.  Its nose was either a Latin American bakery or a British toffee shop.  It reminded of the coffee-and-churro trattorias of Buenos Aires on the narrow avenues.  This was just simply drinking like a perfectly constituted stout with tons and tons of nuances and diversity:  sweet, smokey, piquant, slightly bittered by coffee and hops, concluding with a slightly firey finish that evokes the same wry grin as The Most Interesting Caballero in the World, slapped right onto the label.

Nothing short of astonishing, Beer Geek is my favorite thing Jester King has done by a wide margin.  It is also the first time my palate has felt obligated to give full credit to something in Jester King's lineup.

ABV: 10.1%
Acquired: Spec's
Musical Paring: Band of Horses | Everything All the Time (2006)

Opening the next in the Jester King series -- Weasel Rodeo -- was like the feeling one got in the early 1990s when a free, unsolicited America Online CD-ROM just randomly popped into your home mailbox!  ZOMG! The fuck is this!

Tasting Weasel Rodeo was exactly the same scenario, but in the mid-2000's.  The fuck is this?

The flavors of Weasel Rodeo don't appear to be anywhere on the spectrum of Beer Geek, which is confusing because the Rodeo Series is presumed to be a linear series intended to be consumed in succession -- but, you know, like whatever.

The most discernible characteristic is that of burnt Kopi Luwak coffee -- which, as you may or may not know is a coffee berry that has passed through the intestines of a weasel-like Asian civet and shat forth onto the earth through its butt.  Its one of the most expensive and lowest-produced varieties of coffee in the world, making it quite an impressive feature for a coffee stout.  Shite coffee.  And for all the good its done for me, I may as well have stuck it up my arse.

But, in my opinion, the coffee was totally overwhelming and honestly, felt like a waste of $160-per-pound of weasel deuce -- a mark-up that Jester King passed on to its consumers.

Now, after some cursory sleuthing on the intertrons, I couldn't find the process by which Jester King extracted the coffee from the beans, but Weasel Rodeo left the impression of drip coffee left oily and black -- as opposed to the implication of a cold-pressed procedure for Beer Geek.

Weasel Rodeo was sorghum-sweet, thick, and resiny, as if strong coffee was the only focus.  This appears to be the only divergence from Beer Geek recipe, as Weasel Rodeo uses smoked malts, Vietnamese coffee, and ground chipotle pepper as well.

Another revelation was that Weasel Rodeo had almost no carbonation at all, making the comparison to refrigerated, day-old, greasy coffee all the more prevalent and pretty much beyond redemption.  Despite that, I don't think it was necessarily a terrible beer; just a terrible value at $17.

And as its label art suggests, Weasel Rodeo is just really a befuddled beer.

ABV: 10.1%
Acquired: East 1st Grocery
Musical Paring:  Band of Horses | Mirage Rock (2012)

With the last iteration fresh on the brain, we opened up Whiskey Barrel with a complete lack of expectations -- other than the knowledge that barrel-aged imperial oatmeal stout would be reeally hard to fuck up.

Oh snap.

Huuge fucking bourbon notes provided the need for a testicle readjustment on the outside of my pants.  Jesus, guys.

This one was off to a great start -- aggressive and biting, leveraging the good parts of Weasel Rodeo with quite possibly the largest bourbon notes outside of Deschutes The Abyss and Brooklyn Black-Ops.  And even then, its kinda screaming for a vertical for comparison sake.

The taste is a bitter-and-burnt cowboy-breakfast: steel-cut oatmeal, open range coffee, and a shot of gut-rot whiskey.  Its slightly acrid and pungent and will put you off your feet -- but in a very interesting and delicious way.  To say that Whiskey Rodeo is a fun beer would be to say that JWoww has an imposing chest.  Both are observable understatements.

According to Jester King, Whiskey Rodeo was aged for six months in Tennessee whiskey barrels prior to its coffee addition, and I will say that each minute spent in the oak was worth the hard time waiting for its rampant weasel consumerism.  The stuff is just really good and should age spectacularly.  I am profoundly delighted that I have another one of these to follow up on that prediction.

ABV: 12.o%
Acquired: East 1st Grocery
Musical Paring: Band of Horses | Cease to Begin (2007)

In conclusion, the Magi of Rodeo Kings were an impressive trio worthy of ringing in the fall, the first big win of the season, and celebrating a landmark 10,000 page views for [AA].

Thats a lot of eyeballs and a lot of attention for craft beer.  So, I want to say thank-you for that.