Continuing our social distancing series, I’m drinking old beers that I find in my girlfriend’s apartment. While we’ll likely move on to reviewing fresher beers eventually, we’ll exhaust the old supply here first. Read the first article for some background!
For now, let’s just get into the review of this old PBR.
It’s a light, incredibly clear golden color – I was wrong in thinking this would have darkened much with age. It’s still exactly what you expect from an American lager – right down to the light head made of medium sized bubbles.
Now, call me crazy, but for the aroma I’m going to make an important distinction: from the can and from a glass.
From the can, there’s a unique smell – but I assume it’s different for everyone. For me, smelling the beer from the can reminds me of the nights in college when my friends and I would come back from a show, but we had a little extra cash. We’d splurge on the “better” PBR over the Keystones and Nattys that were barely cheaper. Drinking this from the can smells like the garage and basement drinking that comprised so much of my college hangouts.
Now, from a glass, the smell almost entirely disappears. I had to keep smelling between the can and the glass to make sure I wasn’t crazy. It’s way more subtle and a bit confusing. However, one thing that is more noticeable from a glass is the sweet alcohol smell toward the end of a long inhale. (I may have also accidentally snorted some PBR when trying to get a good whiff of this, but luckily I’m self-isolating so no one saw.)
As to the taste (when consumed, not snorted), it delivers exactly what it promises: uncompromising and immaculate mediocrity.
Notes of crisp water with light malt and balanced hops make this a beverage enjoyed when cold and wet. But honestly, sometimes cold and wet it all you want in a beer.
Welp, now you’ve seen it – we actually reviewed a PBR from nine months ago. May this review live up to the complete lack of anything extraordinary that is PBR – but like PBR, I hope you keep coming back to it.