Fremont Brewery B-Bomb
By: Chasse Gunter
I posses in me a strange ability—or lack of ability. I seem to accomplish more when I have less time and do almost nothing when I have all the time in the word. Only last week, I was praying to be laid off—you know? for all the me and free time it would give me. Yesterday, it took me around five hours to get out of bed to go get a thirty minute tattoo and today it took around eight hours to run a couple errands and fail a job interview for some position I couldn’t pronounce. But my all time slowest feat occurs tonight at midnight, where it has taken me more than twenty four years to turn twenty five.
I knew from the get-go (or is it gecko?) that I’d spend my quarter century birthday celebration at Ravenna Alehouse. It’s a little charming off-college bar near the University District in Seattle (that’s, the bar is little, not the charm). Besides the nicest therapist/bartenders ever, it also happens to be a short six block stumble from my house. (That’s like a three-pronged plus, but seriously, friendliest bar in the U district…and perhaps Seattle and/or the world) While I knew where I’d spend my birthday and which bad joke I’d start it off with, I was still faced with the trickier question: which beverage would lubricate the dawn of my quarter century on this Earth?
I need something nicer than the warm Gatorade bottle of Budweiser I forgot was in my backpack…and I’ll require something softer on the stomach than the bottom-shelf whiskey in my flask…I suppose I’ll order from the bar.
First Impression: I’ll admit from the gecko that winter ales are not my favorite, but people keep buying me my favorite birthday present ever, which impaired my ability to complex decision make. So, I’ll just have one glass of whatever season it is. Fremont Brewery’s Bourbon Barrel Abominable it is (aka: the B-Bomb)…
Taste: It really coats the mouth and throat with a roasted coffee flavor. More chocolate leaning than vanilla-bean—a reverse I’d love to taste. A little malty and syrupy for me. The finish was reminiscent of one morning I drank coffee out of a mug that still had some bourbon in it—or vise versa.