I want to believe the best in people, in things, in the world around me. I’m an optimistic man. That’s my nature, really, has been for a long time.
Based on that, I wanted desperately for two of my favorite things to come together in a synergistic holistic fashion and be great together. Those two things being a craft beer and Game of Thrones.
But sometimes I have to face the reality of the world. Not everything can be great.
I’ve enjoyed season 8 of GoT so far, and the build up to the series finale. I’ll be sad when it’s all said and done, but I hold out hope that some magical day, George R.R. Martin will finish the series and I’ll have new GoT content to absorb.
In the interim, well, there’s For the Throne.
Produced by Ommegang brewery in Cooperstown, just a few short hours down the road from me, I was hoping to give this beer a glowing review and offer it up as the perfect compliment to the home stretch of my favorite television show (I watch very little television besides Mets games).
But I can’t do that. Why?
Because this beer tastes like Renly Baratheon’s asshole.
I wish it weren’t so, but it is.
It’s touted as a “strong golden ale is co-fermented with Pinot Grigio and Viognier grape juices, then bottle conditioned with Champagne yeast.” It should sound like an odd amalgam of ingredients and process and it tasted that way to me. Too funky to be fruity, it wasn’t a beer or wine or champagne. It was just a yellowish alcoholic mess, like Barney from the Simpsons.
What, specifically, does it taste like? (Note, these jokes will ring hollow to those non followers of GoT).
It tastes like the underboob sweat of Robert Baratheon.
It tastes, well, I’d imagine, like what it would taste like if you wrung out Master Aemon’s diapers into a beer bottle.
It tastes, perhaps, like the gunk that got stuck in Cersei’s hair when she did the walk of shame.
It tastes, I think, the way I would think a hot pie tastes, if the hot pie was just a crust surrounding horse diarrhea.
It tastes like the goop underneath Ser Jorah’s grayscales when Samwell cleaned him up.
It tastes like the last thing Joffrey tasted before he bellyflopped and died at his own wedding reception.
It tastes, to me, like the bottom of the chest that Varys held his castrator in for all that time.
Maybe others might disagree, think it’s a great and unique and interesting flavored product. But I’m taking the black before I take another sip of this sucker.