Next up, DuganA IIPA from Avery:
It appears that Duganā, or दुगना, is Hindi for double, which makes sense as this is a double IPA. While that’s fascinating, or not, the word DuganA reminds me more of a critical turning point in my young life…a loss of innocence, if you will. Sure, the theme has been mulled over in song and story – Don McLean’s American Pie, J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, to name a few. But few have captured its essence as concisely as a fateful Spring day in 1987.
Reagan was President. The Cold War was still chilly, but perestroika and glasnost were taking hold. And professional wrestling was in its heyday. Sure, even then it was reasonable to assume that it wasn’t entirely real. Indeed, the best case scenario for an actual piledriver would be a minimum of 10 shattered vertebrae and your head shooting violently out your own butthole. But the outcomes most certainly weren’t staged, and the feuds were as real as it gets.
Then on May 26, 1987, New Jersey State Police pulled over one James Edward Duggan, Jr., better known as 2×4-wielding Hacksaw Jim Duggan of the WWF. No biggie. Apparently, cops saw Mr. Duggan throwing back a can of beer as he rolled down the turnpike. OK, it’s no secret that contact sport athletes self-medicate. Riding shotgun in the car, however, and higher than a Carolina pine: Hossein Kohsrow Ali Vaziri, better known as Hacksaw Jim Duggan’s sworn and bitter rival, The Iron Shiek. OMG! And they were apparently in the middle of such a fantastic bender that upon searching the vehicle, police found enough beer, pot, heroin, and coke to kill five Charlie Sheens.
…or half of a Keith Richards.
The only way this could have been worse for the WWF would be if Nikolai Volkov was in the backseat doing body shots off the Killer Bees. OK, so maybe that’s not that far-fetched.
Not that there’s anything wrong with being a Killer Bee…
Let’s hope this beer doesn’t similarly let us down. It pours an almost clear golden-amber and sports a big, fluffly IPA head that leaves sticky lace. It smells like grapefruit rind and a slight caramel malt character. Then BOOM, the taste is all pine, resin, and dankness with substantial bitterness. With its Chinook, Centennial, and Columbus hops, it’s a veritable symphony of dankness. It’s all like Chopin’s Dancturnes, Bach’s Air on a Dank String, and Mozart’s Danquiem all wrapped into one. As it warms, there’s some heat from the 8.5% ABV, and the hops slow their roll a little and some caramel comes out. For such a dank beast, it’s pretty drinkable, though. This is a fave from Avery.
The Haybag: You’ve used enough words. I’ll just say this is my kind of drinkable.