Peak Organic Espresso Amber Ale – A Personal Story

It was supposed to be a thing of beauty, not this abomination...

If you’re a devoted member of the Brew Yorker staff, then you already know that we recently filmed a review of Peak Organic’s Espresso Amber Ale. It did not do well. But anyway, here’s a quick backstage look at why exactly we reviewed this beer. It was because of me.

See, earlier in the week, I’d been looking to find a couple six-packs of the two McSorley’s bottled beers, both of which, I must say, are excellent. I hadn’t been able to find one, but in a local grocery store, I found a four pack (yes, they only sell four at once – my first hint of trouble) of Peak Organic’s Espresso Amber Ale. Now, I am not only a fiend for beer. I am a HUGE fiend for coffee. I drink too much of it, I think it’s a chemical addiction. Now then, I tried to drink a bottle of this… fluid, and found it to be the worst combination of coffee and beer imaginable. Sort of like if someone had extracted everything that was gross about a shot of espresso and mixed it with the worst aspects of an ale. I decided to get rid of the other three bottles. We had a shoot coming up, beer reviews were planned, I had a great idea, “Why not volunteer the three bottles of Peak Organic’s Espresso Amber Ale?” I asked myself. I couldn’t think of a reason not to.

But Steele out-thunk me. That clever bastard filled three glasses with only two beers, leaving me one in the fridge. And thanks to the magic of memory loss, I decided to drink one of them not ten minutes ago. And now, I’d like to take you on an in-depth trip into what exactly it’s like to have just pounded down a bottle of this strange concoction.

The first thing I should mention is that there is quite definitely caffeine in this beer. And not a bit. A lot. I drink a shit-load of coffee, I know when my fingers are shaking because of its effects. But the weird thing about it is that though you have that high amount of energy you know will lead to a sudden and immense crash, you also have alcohol weighing you down. It’s sort of like getting onto a trampoline wearing lead boots. It all sort of balances out, but you know that there’s something terribly wrong. Your heart is trying to beat too fast and too slow at the same time. You suddenly understand why your doctor told you not to slurp down five asprin with a whiskey chaser. There’s just something in your body that feels wrong.

Let me be clear on this, my friends. I don’t care how much you thought Red-Bull and Vodka mixed while in college. The fact of the matter is, it’s a really shitty idea to combine your stimulants with your depressants. A shiny nickel for whoever’s the first scallywag to point me in the direction of the moron who ever had the idea in the first place. He deserves a bona fide kick in the nuts. (I carry around a collection of certificates – if you get a kick from me in the nuts, you want it to be genuine. You wouldn’t believe how valuable they are in Japan.)



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