Among my dysfunctions is a propensity to start with disclosures and end with tangential explanations. Seriously, I can’t even articulate my idea, let alone brew a beer. There is a litany of reasons why I am so not the guy to do this thing. I’m not a chef, an architect, a restaurateur, a theater manager, a painter, an interior designer, a sculptor, or a musician. I was born sans aesthetic and with anti-rhythm. The good news is I have a weak palate and a poor sense of smell. So I’ve got that going for me.
- Style: Confessional Sour
- Liner note: The beers are ordered for the purpose of my story. I am virtually certain the order in which the beers will need to be brewed is substantially different. And for God’s saké, there is absolutely no way Dumbtown’s going to try and lead off with a sour. Damn, that would be idiotic.
- Beer tangent: Soooooo… who does one put in charge of a perpetuity?