Dry Hopped St. Rogue Red
Not the Saint I remember
Now a rough hopped punk
Written by Captain Hops.
References: Back in the mid 90s, there was a liquor store near my Baltimore apartment that carried 22oz bottles of St. Rogue Red ale. I was usually dead broke back then, but on special occasions I would turn out all my pockets, look under the couch cushions, and scrape together all my pennies to buy a bottle. It was pure heaven. A treat to savor. It was the straight A, artistic, choir boy with the transcendent voice. Saintly. Aaaah… good to the last drop.
After I moved away from that apartment I could never find that beer again. But at least I could remember.
Anyway last week, I discovered my beloved St. Rogue Red Ale in six packs at my local beer store! Oh joy, rapture. The world makes sense again. But what’s this on the label? “Dry Hopped”. “Oooh!” says Captain Hops, “That can only make it better.” Uh… no, in fact it does not. What was once a precocious prodigy is now just another punk kid who’s voice has changed hanging out on the corner trying to act tougher than all the other over hopped kids.
Don’t get me wrong… It’s not bad as a rough-cut over-hopped punk kid on the corner, it’s just not what I remember, wanted or expected. Why take a beer that stands alone in its uniqueness, smoothness, and mesmerizing flavor and thrust it into a crowd of “Me too!” hoppy ruffians.
To me it’s a sign that “Extreme” beer has gone too far. Or maybe I am just a curmudgeon. Can you believe these kids today? Did you know that when I was a kid, I had to walk 5 miles to school up hill both ways! Maybe that’s it… a curmudgeon at 35. But at least I can remember…