Sometimes I’m hard pressed to find things to celebrate, but not today. I finished writing a piece that’s been hanging over me; writers block has been defeated, and within a few days of the deadline. Also, tomorrow, a show called Novel Constructions opens at the Long Beach Museum of Art featuring a piece I wrote in collaboration with artist Edith Abeyta.
So, I cracked open my little bottle of BrewDog Zephyr which I was lucky enough to get in the pre-release 330ml bottle. It features a gorgeous pink label by Joanna Basford: a 12.5% Imperial Ale matured in a 1965 Invergordon whisky cask with fresh strawberries from Martin’s grandma.
The tang of berries is evident with the first pour. The nose is completely fragrant and tart, reminescent of Cantillon fruit beers. On first sip this sings of spring. As it warms it becomes darker, beyond pastoral bliss to something of the woodland, like the Willow Song from the Wicker Man…Britt Ekland knocking on the wall…
The fine-planed wood of a new house. Spilled sacks of grain. Fresh hop vines over the porch and someone inside is already baking–vanilla and toffee. Over it all is a strawberry haze, like some girlie-kawaii dream. The sweetness in this beer is in the malt alone. It’s not twee–the berries are there as fragrant essences, a kind of “attar” flavor you find grounding good krieks.
This is a beer full of love and light and play. Toes in the grass. Ivy crowns. Daisy petals counted out even, always ending in loves me. A handfasting sort of beer, to be served instead of champagne at anything joyful.