Saturday, January 09, 2010

A Tale of Two Ales

We're slowly getting through the surplus supplies of festive slurpables, aided on most evenings by a superlative show of altruism from Dozybean as she kindly offers to assist by making sure we don't have to drink everything between just Mrs The Millbrooker and me.

It was only recently that I discovered that I'd finished all of the Fursty Ferret and all of the Betty Stogs (both favourite session beers of mine). This left only a couple of bottles of Abbot Ale, which I normally consider a tiny bit too strong for my tastes at 5%ABV (yes, yes, I know - wimp of the century). Sometimes needs must - so I decided, on the principle that one can only drink what's available, to have a bash at it.

Mrs The Millbrooker, unlike me, prefers a higher ABV and fewer pints. She kindly donated the Abbot Ale and volunteered to try a bottle of some Polish stuff that Tony The Taxi had gifted to me a while ago.
Take a quick look at this close up of the label on the back of the Polish stuff.Now, my Polish isn't up to much, but even I can work out that it says 9.5%. That's ridiculous. That's the strength of a standard German white wine like the much maligned Liebfraumilch, but it's meant to be drunk in pints (or half litres anyway).

However, Mrs The Millbrooker is nothing if not brave (she married me, after all). We lined up the drinks for the purposes of colour comparison. Note pleasant chestnut colour of the slightly-too-strong-for-a-wuss-like-me Abbot Ale and the dark brooding I-dare-you look of the Zywiec.Dozybean was on hand to witness the occasion and to quietly steal as many chocolate liqueurs (kindly donated by Rosemary) as she could get away with.

The moment could be put off no longer and Mrs The Millbrooker took the plunge.She declared it to be "beer". Mmm, there's no fooling Mrs The Millbrooker when she's on form, you know. Dozybean quickly took up the mantle and tried a sip.Dozybean liked it enough to drink a bottle of it to herself last night. Dozybean, it should be noted, is devoid of any real drinking ability at all and gets squiffy on a whiff of the barmaid's apron; I leave the consequences of last night's Polish beer drinking to your imagination.

I didn't try it at all. Give me a nice gentle session beer any time, as long as it's not that dreadful travesty of the brewer's art Courage Best.

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