As part of our mission here at Why Daddy Drinks to revel in the humorous lunacy that is fatherhood, and to promote the drinking of quality beverages, we bring you our weekly segment highlighting something that should be in your glass. This is The Drink Of The Weekend.
Well, this has not been a good week to be a Seattle Seahawks fan.
Last week, I wrote about how I was going to enjoy the Alaskan Brewing Co. variety pack as part of my Super Bowl experience in hopes that Alaska would provide the Seahawks with the gateway to a second-straight Super Bowl title. As we all know, that didn’t happen.
No one needs me to go over the details about how the Seahawks, down 28-24 to New England Patriots, managed to get down to Patriots 1-yard line with 26 seconds to go and, with quarterback Russell Wilson at the controls, seemed destined to send Marshawn Lynch, aka “Beast Mode”, barreling into the end zone for the winning touchdown. The Seahawks had three downs to use, and with Lynch such a machine of a running back, it appeared Seattle was three feet away from reaching legendary status.
It didn’t happen. We all know that coach Pete Carroll made the Worst Play Call In The History Of Football, The Super Bowl, Seattle Sports, And All Of History, when he called on Wilson to fire a slant pass in to Ricardo Lockette for the TD. Instead, some guy from the Patriots whose named I do not speak managed to reach in for the pick and, improbably, sealed the win for New England.
I was apoplectic and catatonic as I put my head to my living room floor and tried my best to dig my way away from the shame and pain that engulfed my entire body. There was nothing else to do, though, except spend most of this past week listening to Seattle sports talk shows and read Seattle sports columnists online give their autopsies of the game. That, and drink, too.
Well, actually, I spared my liver the self-loathing damage I could have done to it. Today, however, it is Friday as I write this, and the weekend, a rainy one, is upon us here in Oakland. It’s the perfect afternoon for something cold and with a little bit of punishment behind it. Which is why I am drinking San Diego-based Green Flash Brewing Co.’s Palate Wrecker Imperial IPA.
I don’t know how or why the San Diego area has become a Promised Land for IPAs [The only time I ever spent in San Diego was part of a day at SeaWorld, followed by using the city as a gateway to the glory that is Tijuana, and that was more than 20 years ago], but IPA makers such as Stone, Ballast Point, Karl Strauss and Port Brewing in the neighborhood, San Diego can legitimately make a claim to be one of the premier craft brewing cities in America. I’ve tried beers from all of those breweries, but nothing I have found will straighten your spine like Green Flash’s Palate Wrecker.
Oh, yeah, it will put a dent in your palate, for sure. This stuff comes with a 9.5% ABV. This is not your “Bros-Hanging-Out-At-The-Lake-Pounding-Coors-Light” beer. One drink and you know that Green Flash isn’t lying about those six pounds of hops that the company says are in every barrel of Palate Wrecker. India was the “Crown Jewel” of the British Empire back in the day, and Palate Wrecker is one of those IPAs for which the word “Imperial” really is a deserving title.
It also helps ease some of the pain of that Seahawks loss. Which is which I am drinking it one Seahawks shot glass at a time. Anyway, the strength and taste of Palate Wrecker is so, uh, “Imperial” that it may be next season before I am ready to crack open another bottle.