I’m writing a beer review, because I can. Many of you asked if I would write an editorial about Cotillion, but I decided not to. Cotillion-goers, you know what you did. Administration, you know that the misbehavior was not limited to an “isolated minority.” Everyone and their grandmother had a flask, and physical altercations definitely occurred. But nothing I write will change any of that.
Now for the beer review.
Summer weather is here, and I’m drinking Porch Rocker. You, too, should drink Porch Rocker. Your parents should drink Porch Rocker. I believe that God exists, and I also believe that He is currently drinking Porch Rocker in Heaven, or possibly Virginia Beach.
“What is Porch Rocker?” you might ask.
“Shh,” I would respond. “Listen.”
And then Porch Rocker, in all Its goodness, would anthropomorphize and explain what It is in a sweet, bubbly voice.
“I am Sam Adams’ Porch Rocker, and I am delicious,” Porch Rocker would coo. “I am part beer and part lemonade. You know what beer plus lemonade equals? A cool, subtle explosion of tart and tingly flavors tickling your taste buds, bringing a smile to your face and warmth to your heart and joy to the whole world.”
That’s what Porch Rocker would say, and It would be right.
The little informative label that Sam Adams puts on all their bottlenecks says something about German bicyclists mixing beer and lemonade, and how this inspired the Sam Adams brewers to put lemonade in a Helles lager.
I think they’re lying.
The real story, which is obviously too unbelievable to print on the neck of a beer bottle, is that one day at the Sam Adams brewery someone ripped open a hole in time and space and accidentally started pulling things in from the past, but luckily they only ended up pulling in really good things: apple pie, Gandhi, the Agricultural Revolution, the collected works of T.S. Eliot, and so on and so forth. All of these excellent things, the best and brightest things Humanity had ever produced, ended up in a giant cauldron (you make beer in a cauldron, right?), and Porch Rocker was born.
In summary, Porch Rocker is really, really yummy, and drinking it is fun.
You can get Porch Rocker in the Sam Adams Beers of Summer Variety Pack, or via the aforementioned hole in time and space.
AND OF COURSE don’t drink if you’re under 21.
Here’s a quick guide to the rest of the Sam Adams Beers of Summer Variety Pack:
- Boston Lager: oldie but a goodie.
- Blueberry Hill Lager: this one’s a bit of an oddity in the pack. I think the BHL would feel more at home amid fall flavors, as the full, round aroma of blueberries elicits many of the same warm feelings usually produced by pumpkin or cinnamon smells. Still a delicious beer, but better served by a chilly campfire than on the beach.
- Little White Rye: a decent new addition, but nothing to write home about. LWR carries a hint of orange, which is intriguing, but I found the brew to be a bit too hoppy/bitter.
- Belgian Session: this one gets a big fat “ehhhhhhh” from me. It’s not a bad beer. But it’s not really a good beer either. It’s just there, taking up space, kind of like the country after which it was named. Yeah, I’m talking about you Belgium. Nobody hates you, but nobody likes you either. You just sit there, wedged between Germany and France, and people look at you and wonder, “Why?”
- Summer Ale: the lemon tones in this beer are overshadowed by the fantastic lemonade flavor of Porch Rocker, but the Summer Ale is still a worthy summer beverage. But since I’ve had Porch Rocker, every time I have a Summer Ale I keep thinking, “Ah, I could’ve had a Porch Rocker instead of this…”