Jack-O No

I’ve come to learn that living in California is like being an unwitting contestant on a very cruel and unfunny game show. This week’s challenge is navigating toxic and destructive wildfire. If you fail to complete your undesired challenge, you lose your house, your livelihood, or your health. Since Wednesday of last week, I’ve enjoyed the thick and smoky toxic air courtesy of Bobcat fire, located just north of Pasadena. I wish you guys could see the sky right now, seriously. Imagine a New England winter right before it snows, that complete and blanket white covering the sky. Except instead of snow-filled clouds, it’s a thick layer of smoky smog. I basically have a permanent sinus headache and a scratchy sore throat. And we are the lucky ones! House still here, not dead, haven’t been evacuated.

LA is, of course, not the only area affected. There are fires up and down the entire west coast. The main cause of all these fires is climate change that Senate Republicans love to pretend doesn’t exist. Rising temperatures, dry brush, lack of rain, and lightning is just a power-keg waiting to happen except, of course, for the El Dorado fire, located on the edges of the San Bernardino forest. Some asshole hosted a gender reveal party, which involved shooting off a smoke generating pyrotechnic device, and wadda ya know they ended up starting a fire. Whoda thunk shooting off fireworks in a dry ass windy forest would cause any fucking damage? Why the fuck couldn’t they just cut into a blue or pink cake like everyone else.

Fuck gender revel parties, seriously. Social media makes us think we need to do all these over the top exhibitions to justify our mundane lives. None of us are that special, especially when 4.7 million acres of land are on fire, and 33 people are dead. I hope those people shit their pants in public every day for the rest of their sad, pathetic lives.

I’m mad, in case you couldn’t tell. I’m absolutely raging. I’m even madder because I thought that I had found a small gleam of joy in this darkness filled year, only to have it violently whipped out from underneath my size 8 feet. As I’ve mentioned in past columns, pumpkin and Oktoberfest are not ubiquitous beer styles during Autumn in LA. And the ones I’ve had here from local establishments, often “eh” at best.

During my monthly grocery shopping trip, I happened upon a new variety pack from Sam Adams: “Sweater Weather.” The pack contained Boston Lager, Sam 76, Oktoberfest, and Jack-O, a new pumpkin ale. I’ve always loved Sam’s Oktoberfest, but it was the pumpkin that sold me on buying that pack (that and it was on sale.)

So I tried Jack-O. I have a lot of feelings about Jack-O. So for this week (with Nerdy’s explicit permission), I will be writing a review of Jack-O. I know it’s an east coast beer, but I had such a strong reaction, I felt that this review was warranted.

Look at this beer, just look it at it. It looks like Autumn in a glass. Those hazy auburn hues just scream crispy dead leaves rustling around the pavement. Now smell, really take it in. I couldn’t stop inhaling the fabulous aromas of this beer. If the appearance is a crisp leaf, then the nose is that of a warm house on Thanksgiving, filled with family and delectable eats. Have you ever eaten a spice cake? Imagine cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, and allspice, with a dusting of brown sugar swirling around your nose.

If you’re like me, images of sweaters, apple picking, and brown boots instantly come to mind. Of course, I’m a white girl from New England, so it comes with the territory. Keep sniffing, and you’ll also pick up notes of vanilla and the obscure kola nut. Yes, this is the same African nut (which is actually a fruit) that went on to star in Coca-Cola. And Pepsi-Cola (my preferred cola). Here in LA, I can buy cans of kola nut soda in my local convenience store. It’s not really my jam, but it’s fun to try one. In beer, though, yum yum.

After inhaling every single scent molecule Jack-O had to offer, it was hard to bring myself back to reality. I was suddenly transported to a field full of reds and oranges, crisp smoke, and sweet apple aromas in the air. My scarf wrapped around me just so. Sigh.

At this point, let me tell you (if you couldn’t figure it out already), I was really fucking excited to take a sip. Famous last words, that’s when everything went spectacularly to pieces. I was texting Nerdy about how thrilled I was to find a Sam pumpkin out here. She was with me during the first sip.

Me: First pumpkin beer of the season about to be drank!
Nerd: Woooot!
Nerd: 🎃🎃🎃🎃
Me: I hate it
Me: Jack-O is a big flop

Seriously I cannot emphasize enough how terrible this beer is. It is fucking awful. The mouthfeel is somehow thin but also syrupy at the same time. It’s almost completely flat, despite the bubbles I saw hanging onto the edge of my glass. It is way too fucking sweet.

My initial impression was watered down cola, mixed with diet doctor pepper, orange Fanta, and doused with cinnamon. Remember being a kid at McDonald’s and getting your soda cup for the fountain and being so overwhelmed with all the choices you end up mixing everything together? That multi soda abomination is better than Jack-O. Take that cup and add some stagnant water and sweet n low, then taste it again. That’s Jack-O.

California is awful in the fall, and I was so excited to find a piece of New England, and it fucked me hard. Royally fucked me hard. Fuck you, Sam Adams! Who the fuck did QA on this hot pile of liquid garbage? Broke my fucking heart. As a word of caution, stay far far away from Jack-O, you will seriously regret it. 20 Pounds of Pumpkin was so good, they had no reason to change it!

As if 2020 needed yet another reason to suck.

0 out of 0 wildfires.