Beer Review: Dead Guy Ale
For those of you who don’t know, a law has been passed recently allowing liquor stores to stay open on Sundays. It’s a great triumph for the masses, for they will no longer have to stock up on Saturdays for football games, barbecues, etc., or suffer the indignities of 3.2 beer if they forget. A whole new era of happy weekends has opened up to them.
To me, however, it means my scruffy, lay-about Sundays are over. I get to sit at work watching all the happy, smiling people wander in, gleefully stack their real beer on the counter, and answer their questions about “So what do you think about this new law?”
I usually just grunt an answer.
So, as you may have guessed, I’m a bit surly. The extra money is nice, sure, and things will work out like they always do, but if I see a rock or some sand in the street when I’m sulking, you can be damn sure I’m going to kick it.
If any of you have come across me on these days, I apologize. It’s not the law that makes me bitter, it’s the fact that I lost one of my only days off, and with each smile I see, I’m reminded of the days when I could sit in bed eating breakfast burritos and watching trash TV with my girlfriend late into the evening.
I sound like a whiny bastard, but I don’t care. My social life feels dead, so I felt that Dead Guy Ale, brought to you by the folks at Rogue Ale Brewery of Oregon, would be an appropriate beer for the week.
Dead Guy Ale is a maibock, from the bock family of beers, and one of the flagship beers of Rogue Ale Breweries. I first came across it two years ago when a friend of mine bought a seasonal growler of the stuff for Halloween. Nothing beats drinking from a pitch black jug with a skeleton on it when you’re dressed as Dracula. I’ve been a fan ever since.
When poured onto the street for your homies, Dead Guy Ale has a light copper appearance with subtle orange tint. The foam is thick and tan, and stays with the beer throughout the drinking experience.
The smell is fruity, surprisingly, and welcoming. It’s vaguely reminiscent of apples, but that might just be the memories of a carefree childhood screwing with me.
The first taste of a Dead Guy Ale is sweet, but it finishes bitter. It’s a complex flavor that balances out nicely and seems strangely appropriate for its title.
With a 6.5 alcohol content, it’s a little stronger than your average beer, but it’s a smooth drink all the way through and it never leaves you feeling six feet under.
Whether you’re a jerk or a saint, Dead Guy Ale is a great overall beer to enjoy for any occasion. At $8.99 a six pack, it’s a bit pricier than I normally enjoy, but sometimes you got to wallow in your misery to get it out of your system.
Dead Guy Ale gets a 5 out of 5. See you Sunday.