Nothin’ Says “Sequester Friday” Like Triploid Aroma-Type Cultivar

Howza. Is everybody hip to this cask program over here? It is RIDIC. Today and this weekend only, let us engine out for you into one of our unassuming pint glasses an Anvil Porter featuring guest star Mount Hood hops. Or into one of our unassuming tasters. Perhaps you could convince the tender to bestow on you one of our really really unassuming (read: anonymous) specialty 14-ouncers. But I don’t know about that. She’d have to be in a giving mood. (Which–good news!–she probably is!)

O.K. Here’s what the craft stylists at BeerAdvocate have to say about these sassy little devils: “Mt. Hood is a triploid aroma-type cultivar, the 1983 result of a cross between the colchicine-induced tetraploid female Hallertau mf (USDA 21397) and the USDA 19058M, male plant. It is a half-sister to Ultra, Liberty and Crystal. An aromatic variety derived from Hallertau with a refined, spicy aroma and clean bittering. A good choice for lagers. (alpha acid: 4.0-6.0% / beta acid: 5.0-7.5%)”

If you’re like me, you’re slapping your forehead and going: “Colchicine-induced tetraploid! Duh!”

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Now let me thumb through my silver-linings playbook for a positive spin on the sequester business. You know what’s kind of cool about this whole sequester business? It’s a community thing. I feel sort of like we’re all a little bit closer today. We’re all, every one us, in a boat. The Captain is a committee. One third of the committee is bent on scuttling the boat because…who knows why? Because it will reflect poorly on the other two thirds? Because our dependence on the boat has weakened us? Because they don’t like the boat? What’s freaking wrong with these people?

Well, we can’t help it: though we try to vote out this reckless faction, they’ve drawn our districts so that only an unimaginably large landslide would do the trick. Now, hands around each others’ throats, they’ve let us drift into an uncharted sea, albatrosses of gridlock circle, sharks of austerity darken the waters. We eye the food stores, check our gums, pray together, squeeze closer our loved ones. Or: we have no idea. We yawn. We understand dimly there’s trouble in the cockpit but isn’t there always? We whistle as the waterfall gets louder.

Anyway, we’re in it together, all of us half-brothers and -sisters to Liberty.

It could drive a person to drink.

-D.W.

 

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