Keep in mind as you read the next paragraph that I do not have a snooty nose when it comes to alcoholic drinks. I don’t know the difference between a cabernet sauvignon and a merlot, I consider $3.98 Boone’s Farm (especially the berries one) to be a drink of choice on a summer’s eve, and I couldn’t really tell you whether a beer had an oaky subtext, a hint of spelt, or a flock of seagulls going for it. In short, when it comes to beer and wine, I’m pretty darned easy to satisfy.
Yes, keep that in mind when I tell you that Leininkugel’s Berry Weiss Bier is, far and away, the single worst alcoholic beverage to come across my lips in the past five years. (I’d say the single worst alcoholic beverage to come across my lips in the past ten years, but there was that regrettable Iowa Amish Country experience way back in the nineties when I actually decided to sample the Rhubarb Wine.) To my friends with a joy for taste adventure I recommend this “Bier” to you if for no other reason than to provide a new low baseline against which to judge other beers more positively. Imagine drinking Robitussin, 12 liquid ounces of Cherry Robitussin; that’s the closest I can come to describing the horror, the angst, the dread taste of the Berry Weiss. This beer doesn’t have the refreshing crispness a beer should have. It has an oversweetness with a tinge of horribly bitter that never resolves into some hoity-toity aftertaste, and never really goes away. It just lingers on the tongue, reminding me how stupid I was to take another swig.
And I did drink the whole beer. I wanted to be fair to it. It took me 45 minutes to drink one bottle of this beastly concoction, since I really, honestly, literally had to summon up courage in order to be able to pick up the bottle and take another sip. With each sip, the sides of my tongue curled in an attempt to get away from the sickliness of it all. I kept waiting for the beer to grow on me, but it never did.
Steer clear of the Leinenkugel’s, please. Please.
I personally like Leines Berry Weis. It rings in summer time for me. The brewery in Chippewa Falls is only about an hour away from me. I’ve had people tell me it’s a girly drink. But then they ask how I can drink Guinness as they chug their light beer.
To each his own I suppose.
Weiss bier is an acquired taste.
If you want to develop expensive tastes, the next time you’re in one of those bars that serve stuff from all the microbreweries, try a Belgian. The kind made by monks that costs 4.50 for 4 oz. in a special snifter. The monks give up all fleshly delights to pour their hedonistic talents into this beer. There is definate citrus peel undertone, some spices I can’t identify and probably a local yeast variety that makes the taste of each monastery’s product distinct.
I did Belgian beer for my 40th birthday along with a supposed Cuban cigar from under the counter. Ahhhh.
Now you’re talking, Honky! Belgian Trappist ales are my favorite, especially the Westmalle double. A good U.S. microbrew that approximates a true Belgian triple is Golden Monkey, brewed by Victory in Pennsylvania.
There’s a fellow named Bob Klein, who rates beer and whose tastes correspond fairly closely to mine. His take on Leinenkugel’s Berry Weiss:
“Rather intense, concentrated raspberry/blueberry-cross taste is enveloped in fizzy soda-like texture; might be a slight touch of hops in there somewhere, absorbing, thankfully, some of the fruity sweetness; foamy, creamy Brussels lace adheres to sides of glass as liquid goes down; when poured, the stream of liquid is a translucent light purple-violet; more like soda than beer, thereby making it appropriate with potato chips or other junk food.”
He then goes on to give it a 2.1 rating (out of 5.0), which is surprising, given the description.
Trappist, yes! I do so enjoy the ales, Bob, especially the darker ones. I will look for Golden Monkey, but tend to stay away from those places now, due to the abject poverty that clings to my student career and a sudden adversion to smoke. There used to be a New Orleans style restaurant within walking distance of my place with a long mahogany bar where the bartender would let you taste a couple kinds of beer in shot glasses before ordering.
Although I have had a fairly good beer brewed with a small amount of blueberry, a little of that goes a long way, and I wouldn’t choose to drink one except out of curiousity. One of the advantages of being a grown-up is that you don’t have to drink sticky sweet stuff. Too bad your tastes didn’t rub off on James–I’ve read his enthusiastic Boone’s Farm review–but I can see how he would miss such nice neighbors.
Oh, I do miss Bob, IH. I really, really, really do. It was actually Bob’s suggestion that I try his mix of Grenadine and — help me, Bob, what was that beer? At any rate, it was a very, very sweet concoction, but nevertheless was extra-yummy and not at all cloying in the way of the Leinenkugel’s Berry Weiss.
But ultimately I’m with you, Billy: to each his own. If I like the Boone’s Farm, nobody gets hurt, and the same goes for Billy liking the Berry Weiss. If we share our tastes openly and honestly with each other (in drink, and otherwise) we all can benefit from each other’s suggestions. But nobody HAS to drink the cool beer, and nobody should be afraid to sip a little of the Genny Cream if it really floats the ol’ boat.
Mixing a dollop of Grenadine with any one of these ales is a North Belgian convention, and especially popular with denizens of Antwerp: Westmalle Dubbel, Grimbergen Dubbel, Steenbrugge Dubbel, and Dubbel Duinen.
The technique is to drop about a shot of Grenadine into the bottom of a Trappist chalice and then dump the ale in on top, so a light redness swirls in with the thick meringue-y head.
I miss you more. Nyah.
If you two missed each other any more, I would need a dentist.
We used to use grenadine to make kiddie milk shakes. You put tablespoon or so in a glass and mix it with vanilla ice cream, then fill it up with milk.
The grenadine with Belgian double ale doesn’t sound as disgusting as the Boone’s Farm, but maybe a waste of good ale. But what about the hangover? The weiss and the ale won’t make you feel nearly as bad the next morning–as with any quality booze.
Has anyone else noticed how our tastes change as we get older? Little kids can’t tolerate spicy things because they experience tastes in a stronger way. Then sometime between the age of 20 and 25, those sweet white Mosel and Reisling wines don’t taste good anymore and you discover dry red wines like cabernet savignon. Then the cabernet isn’t dry enough for the 50′s so you go for your professor’s merlot which would have made you pucker ten years earlier. Then one day you are sitting in a taverna in Athens drinking the retsina and noticing that it is sweet and stickening and tastes like turpentine (from being stored in pine), so you order food, and notice that the second retsina tastes pretty good and goes with the food….
No, no, you’d need a latex barrier.
The dentist is for enough syrupy sweetness to make your teeth rot. The latex is for, don’t get me too excited now, but give me a clue…disease, bodily fluids…..
leinenkugels yes! berry weiss no. try the great leinies beers like honey weiss or the red and you may change your tune on leinenkugels.