The other day my friend Liza came over and rearranged the living room of my flat in hopes that some impromptu feng shui would bring back my writerly mojo.
We surveyed the new desk-by-window set up and saw that it was good. So we rested. And by resting I mean we cracked open the Cantillon Kriek from my stash, in partial solidarity (and a tinge of jealousy) with the Beer Nut who just returned from visiting the brewery on an open brew day there.
When I drink Cantillon I feel like I’m inside some crazy beer time machine. Ancient fermentation! The mysteries of wild yeast! Arcane blendings!
I will never not be in the mood for this beer which makes me feel just sophisticated enough but also earthy, like a rosy cheeked clog dancer in a Breugel painting. We ate it with some cave-aged gruyere and too many olives, and our tasting notes consist of only Did kool aid have a red sour patch flavor? and, more tipsily, Hey Kool Aid! Bustin’ through your wattle and daub in his ceramic pitcher. yo.
(for non-Americans or the very young/old who are unfamiliar with the wrecking ball aspect of Kool Aid, here is a video)
Impy Malting 