Even though it was still hot as Hades each day, the school year had just started and that meant one thing for the BC4M.......NFL football was making its long awaited return to the 65 inch LED display at Fred's house. What better way to kick off the 2010 NFL campaign than with a BC4M meeting. The troops gathered at Fred's on opening night that Thursday to watch the Who Dats from N'awlins take on the Purple People Eaters from the land of 10,000 lakes. While working virtually every one of those 10,000 lakes as an itinerant fish cleaner/love shaman during his summers while going to school at the University of Minnesota-Mankato, J. Wilder had become a huge Vikes fan. As Wilder was hoping Father Time himself, Brett Favre could conjure up one more drama filled run at a Super Bowl title, we opened up our first bottle, Alesmith IPA (7.25%). The bouquet was piney and hoppy but the taste didn't live up to the scent. Crazy Ken said, "a good at best" while Bim declared, "I sure as fuck ain't bowled over by it, but its decent", so we gave it a good. Next was Southern Tier Imperial Extra Pale Ale Hoppe (8.0%), that featured a snooty label that stated "We craft this much like a sculptor who uses only a hammer and chisel to shape stone into a masterpiece". Fred said, "who the fuck are these guys, this beer reminds me of a redneck eating chicken fingers at a European film festival", but even with all that, the taste was smooth and refreshing with surprisingly little hoppy bite at all, so it only got a good. Two Brothers Hop Juice (9.9%) was offered, and it held 100 IBU's of tongue bittering flavor inside the bottle. The label had what looked like a pair of Channelock pliers squeezing a virgin hop cone for all she was worth. This one was too dry for our taste so it got a so-so. Cricket Hill Nocturne Dark Lager (4.75%) poured like a flat Barq's Root beer, and it tasted like the runoff from the garbage disposal so it rated a sucks. Fred disliked it so much, he talked about adding a category to the rating system for "really fucking sucks", but we figured why beat the brewer while he is down since sucks seems to be a bad enough rating. New Belgium Lips of Faith Eric's Ale (7.0%) was a peachy flavored sour ball that caused Ken to say, "I could use this shit to fuel my weed whacker, this is terrible", while Fred and Wilder both liked it. Ken, while still trying to uncurl his tongue said, "smells like waterlogged tennis shoes that have been dried out". This one was in the words of our immortal sour beer lover Bim, "sour as fuck!", and once again we gave it a split rating of good. The next two beers were collaboration beers from Dogfish Head, Stone and Victory, Saison du Buff (6.8%). As you may recall, we had tried the Saison du Buff that was brewed at Stone and had given it a good. The brewers take the same recipe and brew a batch at each brewery and then send it out to the market. This beer is a weird mixture of rosemary, parsley, sage and thyme. "What the fuck" said Ken, "is this a Martha Stewart recipe?" The Victory version smell reminded Wilder of fresh cut crabgrass mixed with dandelions and the taste reminded Bim of "pisswater mixed with sweaty socks", although no one is sure how he knows what that tastes like. The taste was awful, so it got a sucks, while the Dogfish Head version was actually much better and cleaner tasting. It was amazing that the exact same recipe could taste that much different, but maybe the boys in Rehoboth Beach used better ingredients, like Papa John's claims for their pizza. Rogue John John Juniper Ale (5.2%) was next and this one uses barrel aged gin to add flavor to their Juniper Ale. This one was actually pretty good as we generally despise the Rogue "pacman" yeast and free range coast water that these guys use in every one of their mediocre beers. The label was cool, cause it had a picture that looked like the two old fishermen, Cooter and Spider that lease out Wilder's new trawler "Spreader Boots" to fish down in Wanchese, NC. The final beer of the night was Founder's Breakfast Stout (8.3%). Pouring as dark as the bottom of the Titanic on a moonless February night, this one was rich and full of coffee and chocolate flavors. "I fucking love this" said Fred, while Ken added, "I ain't impressed". Like a iced coffee for breakfast, this one was a melted Hershey's chocolate bar mixed with Starbucks and it got a good, although Fred was ready to utilize the parliamentary procedure of Host Makes the Fuckin Rules to call it an RFG. The boys talked him down off his soap box and we agreed to give it a good. Since the game was almost over, and the Saints looked to be squeaking out a win, we called it a night so that Wilder could go release his frustration by landing a donkey punch to his neighbors barking chihuahua Paco. Until next time.........
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