Like the aggregated flavor your memory holds of Christmas mornings, when you're the one staying up in the wee hours of dawn wrapping presents with a whiskey on the table. Someone else downstairs making pancakes and breakfast sausage, a hint of syrup rising through the hazelnuts.
Like an unexpected deer in the front yard, steam rising from her warm, open mouth. The golden blond and amber tones of morning searing the crisp surface of packed snow, a bitterness in the air that reaches all the way up to your brain and unlocks the feeling of lying underneath the black limbs of a leafless tree, breathing in the melting snow angel and sweaty hair underneath the hood of your snowsuit.
A tasty, tasty craft beer, my friends (purportedly brewed by Thomas Creek in South Carolina). Get a growler. Take it home. Make a big pot of salted stove top popcorn (the old school way, kernels salted and covered in oil at the bottom of a heavy pan), or a roasted turkey, or a rosemary rack of lamb. You get the picture.
The image above doesn't really do the beer justice. You can probably see that I already took a swig by the trail of beer lace left on the glass and the lack of head on the beer. The color is maybe more or less amber than the kitchen lights would allow, but Wild Heaven has a nice picture of their own.
Oh, and P.S., at 8.5% alcohol, you won't need more than a glass to start feeling the Christmas spirit, so to speak.
Dear Beer Snobs,
I am reluctantly yours.