It's been one of those days.
Nothing in particular went wrong and no one specifically got under my skin, but still I bristled with contempt all day. It was gorgeous outside and I was inside, I was frustrated at every point in the task I was performing and I simply didn't want to be at work. When the proverbial "quitin' time" whistle blew, I knew there was only one place to decompress. The lovely Lionheart—my beery Mason-Dixon between work and home. I needed the perfect elixir to soothe away the dusty bad vibes of another day in the grind, and the moment I got into my car I knew what I wanted.
It's great to be able to order something by simply saying "field mouse," and not having them look at you like you've got two heads. In doing just that, the Thursday night man, Jay, placed the hazy, golden pint on the bar at my center mass. I could feel my tenseness begin to fade. A sweet, grainy aroma with a distinct citrusy-lemon and banana perfume, wafted from the pint. It's head reduced to a thin white film, speckled with bubbles. At first glance, or sniff for that matter, one might assume this to be your rank and file wheat beer. Trust me, it's not. On the first taste, it's soft and dry and there is a prominent wheat flavor, but there's more to it than that. There's an herbal, almost minty spiciness, with underlaying bubblegum, apple and ginger flavors. A sweetness tempered by a mild sourness. It brings a musty, earthiness with yeast, dough and outdoorsy notes—like eating fresh bread, in a pasture. A tangy bite rounds out the swallow and numbs the tongue ever so slightly. The hops are present, but are just back-up singers in this one. They offer a subtle hay-like quality, reinforcing the beer's al fresco character.
Field Mouse is sunshine in a 16 ounce glass. It's a turn-that-frown-upside-down kind of beer. It's nearly impossible not to feel good (or at least better) drinking this one. I knew driving to the Lionheart, that Field Mouse would get me out of my slump—and I was right. I've heard it described as a rustic ale, and I agree. It has a countrified feel to to it—a beer for long hot, days working in the field—or behind a computer. All I know is, if rustic means "stops making your day suck," then they've nailed it, and I'm all for it!
Nothing in particular went wrong and no one specifically got under my skin, but still I bristled with contempt all day. It was gorgeous outside and I was inside, I was frustrated at every point in the task I was performing and I simply didn't want to be at work. When the proverbial "quitin' time" whistle blew, I knew there was only one place to decompress. The lovely Lionheart—my beery Mason-Dixon between work and home. I needed the perfect elixir to soothe away the dusty bad vibes of another day in the grind, and the moment I got into my car I knew what I wanted.
It's great to be able to order something by simply saying "field mouse," and not having them look at you like you've got two heads. In doing just that, the Thursday night man, Jay, placed the hazy, golden pint on the bar at my center mass. I could feel my tenseness begin to fade. A sweet, grainy aroma with a distinct citrusy-lemon and banana perfume, wafted from the pint. It's head reduced to a thin white film, speckled with bubbles. At first glance, or sniff for that matter, one might assume this to be your rank and file wheat beer. Trust me, it's not. On the first taste, it's soft and dry and there is a prominent wheat flavor, but there's more to it than that. There's an herbal, almost minty spiciness, with underlaying bubblegum, apple and ginger flavors. A sweetness tempered by a mild sourness. It brings a musty, earthiness with yeast, dough and outdoorsy notes—like eating fresh bread, in a pasture. A tangy bite rounds out the swallow and numbs the tongue ever so slightly. The hops are present, but are just back-up singers in this one. They offer a subtle hay-like quality, reinforcing the beer's al fresco character.
Field Mouse is sunshine in a 16 ounce glass. It's a turn-that-frown-upside-down kind of beer. It's nearly impossible not to feel good (or at least better) drinking this one. I knew driving to the Lionheart, that Field Mouse would get me out of my slump—and I was right. I've heard it described as a rustic ale, and I agree. It has a countrified feel to to it—a beer for long hot, days working in the field—or behind a computer. All I know is, if rustic means "stops making your day suck," then they've nailed it, and I'm all for it!
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