Barlow Brewing

Dear Mexico,

I know you are going through a tough time right now. The swine flu, sorry H1N1, is making you sick, and tourism is down. I get that. No one wants a funny tan line on their face because they have to wear a surgical mask to your lovely beaches. These are challenging days.

And I want to support you and pump a little money into your economy. I’m sure you need it right now. But this is a beer blog and your beers are…..DAMN.

See, America is in the midst of a huge craft beer revolution. It is surprising it has not come to you, our fine neighbor to the south. But good taste unfortunately has never been quite as contagious as say…well, enough with the influenza jokes.

Listen Mexico, you have a wonderful history when it comes to brewing. Michael Jackson says that you had the first commercial brewery in the New World, which was created by the Spanish around the mid-1550s.

Later on, German immigrants settled in Texas and then moved southward into your country bringing with them their amazing brewing knowing and styles. Despite the heat of your land and the difficulty brewing them there, you have the Germans to thank for making the majority of your beers lagers.

And what do you do? You make Corona and Pacifico and Tecate and Sol. Your skunky crap begs for a lime in order to make them slightly drinkable. If I was German, I would hate you.

I think Denis Leary sums this kind of disrespect for the New World up with his routine about why the French hate America: “Why the French hate Americans? Years ago, they gave us the croissant–’le cwa-soh’– And what’d we do? We turned it into a ‘croissandwich.’ Thank you very much.”

Thanks, Mexico. Thanks for turning a perfectly balanced lager into Corona Light.

So, since it is Cinco de Mayo, I’m drinking a Negra Modelo, which is honestly very close to a Vienna lager.

(And why, in the name of all that is holy, are you bringing me a frozen mug? Why do you hate me?)

It is a darker beer with a nice bit of malt and caramel. I like this brew despite the fact it has a corn flavor in the background. But it is clearly a huge winner over anything else you are making and putting in clear glass bottles.

Let me help through these tough days, Mexico. Let’s take baby steps. Put your beer in dark bottles to start with. At that point, you will be at the same crappy quality level with the nasty, but slightly less skunky, lagers that the American macros sell.

Thanks,

Me

“We brewed this especially bitter ale in dedication to all the world’s would-be astronauts, in remembrance of the 2005 St. Patrick’s Day Massacre on the Brewery Party Grounds and also in joyous celebration of our 20-day suspension that following January. Do the crime. Do the time. Get the bragging rights. Cheers.” – Lagunitas Undercover Investigation Shut-down Ale label

The story behind the Lagunitas Undercover Investigation Shut-down Ale is well known, but it bears repeating. The brewery was holding regular tastings every Thursday night and some do-gooder had noticed someone smoking pot (not an unusual occurrence) outside the brewery. That led to the police to conduct an eight week undercover investigation into the brewery. Every week the undercover cops would come to the brewery tasting and try to buy pot. Plenty of people offered it to cops, but no one ever tried to sell it to them. Finally the police just got pissed off and on St. Patrick’s Day arrested a few people and shutdown Lagunitas for 20 days.

In an act of wonderful subtly, Lagunitas later released their Undercover Investigation Shut-down Ale. It is a whopping 9.7% ABV and, despite being a borderline barleywine, the brewery calls it an “oxymoronic imperial mild”

This beer pours a golden orange with deep pools of reddening copper. The head is thin, but laces nicely as you drink.

(Imagine I put a picture of the beer here. Go ahead, close your eyes and “see” the bottle….. No, that isn’t what the label looks like at all. Are you even trying? Nevermind. Yeah, well anyway, I must of gotten drunk and forgotten to take a picture of this one.)

The aroma is candy sugar, caramel malt, and traces of citrus and pine hops.

The taste is drier than the sweetness of the aroma would suggest. There’s brown sugar and some alcohol, but no where near the 9.7% that it is. The body is full and deeply coating.

The bizarre thing I got out of this one was a fruity sweetness. It took me a little while to put my finger on it, but it got a big, red Twizzler note. It was a sweet, cherry splash on my tongue that made me want to find some Twizzlers and use them as straws for this strong ale. Well, I guess we have our food pairing for this one.

This was a very interesting beer and well capable of carrying the memory of that St. Patrick’s Day massacre. It was deceptively smooth, and complex. Not something you want to drink all night long, but something you’ll be happy that you had.

If you aren’t holding, of course.