Bitches Brew

It's Tuesday again, and you know what that means (what? election? huh?): you survived yet another Monday on the floor at the shirtwaist factory and it's time once again for Bitches Brew! This week, your resident bitches will be reviewing two entirely unrelated beers: a Kronenbourg 1664 and a Fireman's #4 Real Ale. Cause that's how we roll.

This week found the bitches back at The Stag's Head for the tasting. Any place that can totally destroy the nutritional value of three different kinds of vegetables by battering and frying them and then serving them up in a basket with a vat of Ranch dressing is our kind of place. Also, they have Mrs. Pac-Man.

Mary Jane: This was a walk in the park, the dog park: at first sniff it had a slight "land mine" odor. Pepe Le Pew is not a good description for a first impression. Pushing through, Kronenbourg 1664 had a minimal head and a sweet, yet hoppy flavor. Despite that, it was somewhat smooth, yet with slightly sweet, skunky aftertones that left thoughts of bad breath and "dirty mouth". Unable to complete a half pint, which is alcohol abuse (never leave a beer behind), this beer immediately brought to mind images of Steve Buscemi, as he appeared in Fargo. "Is that your partner in the wood chipper?" Nope, it's the somewhat nasty remnants of a beer we really did not care much for. Doubtful this is consumed on any other occasion, unless it's free.

Katharine: Mary Jane is being far too kind. The Kronenbourg had an appallingly strong odor of, well, shit. There really isn't any other way around it. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it also had an overwhelmingly grassy scent to it as well: it was as if you were spending the afternoon cleaning your front yard after the neighbor's Great Dane had full access to it for two weeks. Tempting, huh? I understand that the entire appeal of a Kronenbourg is its special French hops -- Strisselspalt, the self-styled "caviar" of hops -- so perhaps we're both missing something here. Or, perhaps -- like most other things French -- it's just another example of the Thomas theorem in action: the French tell the world it's wonderful, and the world buys in. But getting back to the beer: this tasted every bit as terrible as one would expect. There were slight hints of citrus behind the dog feces and mown lawn tastes. And it wasn't as effervescent as your average lager, which is actually a good thing to me. I guess we take our silver linings where we can get them.

Mary Jane: "I'ma get mine so get yours, I wanna see sweat comin' out your pores." in the immortal words of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. This was a superb follow-up to the previous sample and the half pint was slowly savored until nary a drop was left. Fireman's #4 was heady and smooth with just the right hoppy-ness and a good aftertaste. Adios, skunk breath! "Good vibrations" were emanating from the glass, a smooth, almost crisp smell that made us think of fall and big hunky firemen, or a certain undergarment advertisement. If you like ales, this is a must try and is definitely in the rotation to be ordered regularly.

Katharine: I'm terribly biased towards microbrews -- especially Texas microbrews -- so it's important to keep a straight head going into the Fireman's #4 game. That said, there's no bias required to enjoy this beer. For a hoppy blonde, it's incredibly refreshing and is best served nice and cold. This is the kind of beer that you want to relax with on a patio when it's 108 degrees outside, but it also went down a treat with our fried jalapenos inside a muggy pub. This beer is nothing if not versatile. Although there is little to no head on this hazy blonde, that minor nitpick falls completely by the wayside once you taste it: citrusy, fresh, and brisk with a subtle, warm, malty undertone. The Kronenbourg really ought to go kill itself right now.

If you enjoyed this week's installment, stick around for next week's Bitches Brew, where we'll review Broken Halo IPA and a mystery beer!

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Photo courtesy of Flickr user groovehouse.