Georgetown Brewery presents: Manny’s Pale Ale (or the pale ale that simply was).
By: Chasse Gunter
I was never the type to write in coffee shops. My go-to reason was I refused to join the ranks of the predictable rebel artists who wrote elaborate meaningless poems as unnecessarily beyond comprehension as their super deluxe venti low fat organic caffeine-free triple shot coconut-caramel lattes. No foam. So help me god. The wifi password is Peaceonearth or Coexi$t. And if you don’t get that the dollar sign is ironic, you’re too straight forward to drink from their mini cups. Honestly, writing in coffee shops just never came natural to me. The ironic thing is (if I’m using ironic correctly) the only reason I don’t like to write in coffee shops is it’s too easy—and I thrive on conflict. If you ever want to freak out a whole room of people, go write at a bar. Even though all the most famous authors wrote at bars, it still noticeably turns heads. Every time.
My favorite thing about this particular coffee shop is: there’s a bar downstairs. So after drinking an unending mug of drip coffee at the cafe at Third Place Books (until each finger tries to write the letter three words ahead), I can retreat to the pub downstairs to, well, continue writing and drink away the caffeine. The big plus is that this bar is in such close proximity to an acceptable writing destination for writing not to be a suspicious activity (perfect for those days I don’t yearn for conflict). And, it’s classy (side note: my criteria for classy is: there is no sign about chew spit above the urinals and you get the tab at the end of your dining experience, not after each beer)–it’s classy but not pretentious—you know, ripped clothing means “artsy” or thrifty, not poor. (The cafe—on the other hand—gives off occasionally unwelcome feelings (the customers, not the staff)I’m talking old ladies jumping when they see me and kids playing chess—that sort of thing.) Well, my new year’s resolution is to get to the point…or was it rant with purpose?
First Impression: Now what is one simple mortal man to say about Georgetown Brewery’s Manny’s Pale Ale. First off, I failed to just take one classy beer tester sip. I immediately started gulping it down. I was thirsty okay—and it was delicious—I hope no classy onlooker saw that. I think I’ve drank this before.
Pour: It’s a beautiful chestnut brown with an orange tint. I use the convenience of high speed internet to check my facts. Yep, the color of unripe chestnut. Nearly headless.
Taste: There are no detectable spices. There was a very faint bitterness—so faint, in fact, that noting this might lead you to believe it was bitter at all. There’s a very subtle hint of honey or citrus. Very faint. I can just assure you, it was smooth, but full—and not sweet. Alright, there are definitely some bitter notes there. I searched my memory for beers to compare it to and stumble upon Manny’s. I’ve drank this beer a bunch of times, it turns out. And according to Wikipedia, this beer is on tap at 500 bars in Seattle.
Final Impression: This pale ale always worked, but that’s it. It never moved me in any great way. I can’t imagine a beer drinker in the world that would spit it out, but it’s not going to win any awards for being risque or unique. It works. It tastes good. I’d recommend it to you if you can’t pronounce anything else on tap or are on a risk-free diet. If Manny’s Pale Ale was the person you’d find yourself to marry, marry him late in life after the good guys were too good to be true and the bad guys got you in trouble. Rest assured, Manny will just be there for you when you’re all alone and are tired of playing little spoon to your body pillow. If you brought him to meet your parents, they’d say to each other in private “that boy was nice, what was his name again?”