Can we make a pact right now? If any one of us in the US of A catches another beer drinker complaining that he can’t find a good IPA in his local beer store that we slap some sense into said beer drinker. Literally.
If said beer drinker persists, can we please stare at him with the acrid glare of Wayne Brady in season 2 of The Chappelle Show, and ask, “Am I going to have to choke a bitch?”
(The threat alone should right the situation. Don’t worry, you shouldn’t have to choke a bitch.)
It’s a bold pact, but I believe that no matter where you find yourself drinking in this country — with maybe a few exceptions — you will be able to find a top-notch IPA to soothe your hoppy soul.
When it comes to IPA’s, we live in the land of abundance. So much so, that I could write two blog posts a week for a year on high quality IPA’s produced in these United States and barely scratch the surface of hop goodness.
Case in point. A few months ago I gave a friend a bottle of Zombie Dust that had been sent to me from Indiana. To return the favor, he sent me a can of Golden Road’s Wolf Among Weeds IPA out of L.A.
As an East Coaster who’s heard only of L.A.’s smoggy past, traffic-damned present, and water-troubled future, a beer from La-La Land doesn’t exactly smack of refreshing overtones. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s brewed in California, the birth place of the true American West Coast-style IPA, but it’s L.A.
This, however, is the great beer renaissance where anything is possible. And Matt sent it to me, and the boy has a great palate.
I gladly cracked the 16 oz. can and the citrusy aroma that barreled from within dissipated all my East Coast naivete.
Wolf Among Weeds is a symphony of citrus from beginning to end. Immediately what hits the drinker is a rush of pinneaple and mango aroma most likely from the bounty of dry-hops Golden Road infuses into the brew. When poured into a glass, the beer even has an orange, tropical-fruit-juice hue, along with the sinister haze that tells you this beer is gushing with flavor. From first gulp, it’s clear that the brewers at Golden Road set out to make the biggest, most hop-jolting brew they could muster. The flavor of this beer runs the citrusy spectrum from pinneaple to pear to, dare I say, starfruit. It’s big, people. The finish is smooth with a good amount of bitter left on the back of the tongue.
Chalk up another colossal IPA on the already bountiful list of hoppy American beers. And remember, if you hear someone complain, “There are just no great IPA’s out there,” give them the Wayne Brady eyes and demand, “Am I going to have to choke a bitch.”