When I was buying this beer earlier, the guy bagging my groceries asked if it would be ok to put the cleaning supplies in the same bag as the beer. I told him that would be fine because I planned to drink everything anyway. Evidently, my attempt at a joke was lost on him as he became genuinely concerned that I was going to ingest an inordinate amount of chemicals. I was a little disappointed he didn’t get it, mostly because I was really proud of myself for making a joke that was neither profane nor insulting. Or who knows, maybe he did get it, but his great aunt died in a 409 binge drinking incident and I actually just ruined his day. Regardless, I hope you, dear readers, will appreciate my stupid sense of humor more than the grocery bagger did, because if you don’t laugh at this beer pairing, I’ll go through my bags of groceries and unpack a punch to your face. (I read somewhere that audiences respond well to the threat of violence…I think it was an article by Gwar.) Ok, let’s begin.
This pilsner is unlike many beers of its style. It’s classified as a “Neo American Pilsner,” which from what I understand just means it wasn’t brewed by Anheuser-Busch. It’s made using rye malt, American hops, and a little bit of magic (some call the magic “lager yeast”). It’s refreshing, it’s crisp, and above all, it’s well-balanced. I feel the delicate balance between the sweet maltiness and floral hoppiness of this beer is underrated, much like my cleaning supplies joke, so I want to give it the attention it deserves. I’m sure like other balancing acts, this proportionately pleasing pilsner was achieved through lots of practice, patience, and dedication. So, to give a shout out to Deep Ellum’s job well done, I’m going to take their Rye Pils and parrot with the circus! Namely, the acrobats, trapeze artists, and tightrope walkers because I like to be as literal as possible when it comes to balance.
I don’t know if people go the circus anymore, but if they do, they should stock up on this beer before attending. And by “stock up” I mean open the can and stock the liquid beer inside their stomachs. Trust me, it will make the animal abuse more tolerable and the high-flying acts much more drunky. Seriously, though, we don’t give enough credit to these ballerinas of balance and how difficult their acts are. If you’d like to change this by taking a not-so-real-life glimpse into their world, I recommend watching The Gymnast for two reasons: 1) It’s terrible. 2) There’s a line about cooters you won’t want to miss. (PS – You would recognize the main actress, Dreya Weber, from the P90X workout videos if you ever got off your ass and exercised once in a while. Again, I’m utilizing writing advice from Gwar. Sorry, fatty.)
Typically, the most attention trapeze artists get is when they pull a “Dick Grayson’s Family” and splat all over the floor like so many drops of beer made of flesh and spandex, and at that point, it’s too late for recognition. If this tragedy does occur while you’re boozing it up at the circus, use the distraction as an opportunity to chug another Rye Pils, cut the elephants loose, and maybe fondle a clown. (Side note: Fondles the Clown would be the best worst clown name ever.)
The lesson I’m trying to convey is not to take any form of balance for granted. Whether it’s a beer or a not-dead circus performer, balance is beautiful.