Don't you hate being surprised and proven wrong? I mean, when you get to age 40 you know just about everything there is to know, especially when it comes to beer (and everything else). Just like me, you think you are right about 99.5% of the time, and the remaining .5% falls into the "statistically insignificant" category. The second I laid eyes on the "Double Take" blonde at the grocery store I had this blog laid out in my head. It went something like this....
Nothing compares...
I'll buy it anyway to prove a point...
I already have my favorite....
This is just packaging....
All other IPA's suck...
I went home and created the perfect tasting scenario. I worked out, I sweat quite a bit, I got really hot, and I got a great pump. I couldn't wait to get out on the porch, grab the hose, and hit the dry spots on the grass while slowly sipping the brewed elixir that I purchased, although it wouldn't be near as good as my beloved Sierra Nevada. Some prefer water, perhaps a recovery mix, but I prefer an ice cold beer as a reward for my efforts (Jen, I wasn't kidding about the coffee and cheesecake post-workout). I sat down, let the water flow from the hose, and began sipping the Double Take IPA.
My love of Sierra Nevada began in approximately 2001. My job required that I travel to Chico, Ca among many other areas in the Northern California territory. As luck would have it, an Irishman named Dan also covered the territory and thus began many a night of wearing the wobbly boot. Stopping at the Sierra Nevada brewing company was always a priority. In addition to the many pints we drank at noon, fish and chips was always high on the list as well. Over time and after tasting every IPA I could find on the market, Sierra Nevada always remained at the top of my list.
From the first chug of Double Take, I knew I had been betrayed by my own preconceived notions. Damn, if this IPA wasn't good. I was prepared to be disappointed but I wasn't. I looked down at the label and it read "At first sip this India Pale Ale will grab a hold of your palette and snap your attention back". Crap, they weren't lying. I had read similar exhortations many times in the past, but they were merely words.
I began to panic. "What does this mean", I thought to myself? I might have to reconsider my position on my IPA priority moving forward.
The center of my beer universe had been shifted slightly. I was a bit dizzy. Suddenly I remembered I had a Sierra Nevada in the refrigerator. I stumbled over, popped the top, took a quick swig, and all normalcy returned to my life. Though I had been tempted by a blonde, and we had a swift, sudden, passionate affair approximating the feelings I have for Sierra, I knew in my heart it was merely a second place finish to that which I hold dear.
Don't worry Sierra, you're still my bitch. But make sure you wear those high heels and short skirt because there's a temptress knockin' at the door.....
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