Over in the 805…

Welcome to day 134 of plague times. After months of Quarantine -closing bars, restaurants then reopening bars and restaurants only to close them again, we’re back nearly at square one. Cities and states that re-opened unsurprisingly are seeing surges in Covid cases. Angelinos are trying to comply, to a point. I see most people on the street either not wearing a mask, or have the mask pulled down around the chin, why bother at that point! At least we aren’t protesting for our right to get a haircut like my neighbors down in the OC. BLM protests are still occurring regularly here, except they get no media coverage because the protests are peaceful, and no one is looting in Beverly Hills. Oh No! Won’t somebody please think of the overpriced designer merchandise!

I’m fortunate though, I’ve been sick a few times, unclear if I had Covid, but I have a place to live and am still gainfully employed- for now, my entertainment adjacent employer has already announced three rounds of furlougs so who the fuck knows. I live in a DINK household at a time when many do not, must count my blessings. I have enough groceries for weeks of meals, and I’ve been reading about three books a week. Of course I’ve probably banked about 3000 hours of tv and movie streaming to counter any intellectual gains made by book learnin. But fuck it! No gatekeeping little pleasures during times of plague! I spent five hours this weekend carefully crafting lasagnas and artisanal bread fermented with poolish, after which I watched five additional hours of Rupaul’s Drag Race.I fed my stomach and my soul. And yes, beer was also an invited guest.

If I had to grouse about something it’s the really annoying fact that my fridge shit the bed last week. The fridge portion was suddenly not cool, fortunately the freezer was fine. If I had lost all the meat in my freezer I would have busted out a cap in someone’s proverbial ass. Still though, it was annoying as fuck to have to keep putting my dairy products in the freezer for short time increments so they wouldn’t go bad, as I waited days for my landlord to actually replace the unit as promised. Last time I went shopping, I finally bit the bullet and bought the 48 ounce container of sour cream. I fucking love sour cream, I add ice cream cone sized portions on my tacos, my jambalaya, and of course my baked potatoes. It only made sense to buy the large size, Quarantine or not I just eat a lot of it. Well, it went bad. It either got too cold or too warm but now it’s shit, and the container is more than half full. I blame my landlord for taking two days to respond to our complaint, and then two more days to replace the damn unit after he said he would. But, that’s all I lost so I can deal. More sour cream can be procured.

This week’s invited guest is brought to you by Firestone Walker Brewery, located in Paso Robles CA, an area well known for their wines. FW, was actually started in a vineyard shed, by two BILs Firestone and Walker. These names are too perfect to be real, and sound like a soap character. Rich mysterious orphaned doctor with a twin and a terrible secret. Or a terrible twin. Or a terrible secret twin, they’re all the same. My potent potable as Alex Trebek would say, side note if we lose him this year too I’m gonna fucking rage, is 805. 805 is named for Paso Robles area code (amongst other cities.) Similar to New Yorker, I’ve learned that Angelinos are very vocal about what area code in which they reside – 213, 323, 818 etc. 805 is a blonde ale, a real blonde, unlike most of LA. (Not meant ironically.) 

The beer poured smoothly into my glass, as you can see from the picture, almost no head retention, with the bare minimum amount of lacing. I love this keg shaped glass, I got it as a gift when Nerdy and I participated in one of those 5K/beer fest for charity deals. I clocked in at a 10 minute mile, pretty good for someone who doesn’t run ever. The keg shape of the glass really accentuated how bubbly this beer is, the bubbles clung to the indented sides of the glass, very attractive. I also found the color of 805 to be quite lovely, a clear rich golden hue that really sparkled in the mid afternoon California sunshine. 

I was duly impressed with the aromas of this beer, since blondes are really a crapshoot with that particular sense. I find most blondes to be virtually odorless, so it’s nice to find a beer with some enticing smells. Sweet pilsnereque malts permeating my nose, complemented by notes of buttery toasted sweet bun, and bright floral waves. Sounds more like a perfume than a beer, but I don’t drink perfume. I did have a former coworker who drank some of my body spray for a dollar once though! If Nerdy can guess to whom I’m referring she wins a prize. 805 has a nice and light mouthfeel, with a satiny texture, and rife with very palpable bubbles. I could feel the little carbonation bubbles dancing the Lindy on my tongue.

Ahh but what does it taste like? The taste, like the smell of a blonde ale can be hit or miss for the intensity of the flavor. I thought the beer tasted great, very versatile and drinkable. The sip starts out with a mild sweetness, with notes of toasty malt that quickly turns into a rich earthiness, almost bitter grass. I was picturing a fresh roll, just out of the oven slathered in a parsley pesto. 805 finishes with a dry floral taste, but somehow the floral taste is both dry and sparkling bright at the same time. I liked this beer a lot. Other reviews I read didn’t feel the same. If anything, this blonde offered more than a regular blonde ale does, so I’m not sure what their problem was. If you are looking for a tasty, session ale, this 4.7% tasty treat is for you. It’s not overly sweet, or bitter, so it won’t ruin your palate should you choose a different beer after. 

4 out of 5 sunshine rays