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Beer Bites

Beer Bites: Saranac 12 Beers A Falling: Part II

After experiencing the pure delight of half of Saranac’s 12 Beers A Falling variety pack last week, I was a little nervous that the second half would be disappointing.

And for the most part, unfortunately, it sort of was.

I think my problem was that I started off too strong. I picked the three that seemed the most delicious, so this week, I was left with the remaining half that can only be described collectively as “meh” — definitely drinkable, definitely something I’ll buy again, but nothing to write home about.

I decided to get over with what I expected to be the worst of it and drank the Pale Ale first. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the biggest fan of pale ales. They’re too malty, too hoppy and all around too bitter for my taste. I would probably be 100 percent cooler — and a total hipster — if I liked pale ales, but the sad truth is that I’m pretty girly and don’t drink them.

But I was rather pleased with Saranac’s Pale Ale. It’s probably best described as decent: nothing surprising, nothing bad and no harsh aftertaste. It was more tolerable than other pale ales, but certainly not my favorite.



The biggest downside? I immediately fell asleep after drinking it. As in, lights still on, book still open next me, deep, comatose sleep. I don’t want to call the Pale Ale boring, but if the shoe fits…

Next, I tried the Harvest Ale. I was particularly excited for this one, since I’d heard great things about it and thought it would be a less spicy version of the Pumpkin Ale. I was misled.

As my drinking buddy described it, the Harvest Ale tasted like designer Natty Light with a double dose of hops. It was so wheaty that I became seriously concerned about my carbohydrate intake with each sip. It reached the point when I realized that I’d rather drink the Buffalo Bills-themed Bud Light 30-pack that’s been dwelling in my fridge, practically untouched for weeks.

Two thumbs way down for the Harvest Ale.

But Saranac redeemed itself in the end. I finished strong by polishing off the two remaining Octoberfest lagers in quick succession while trying to decide if it was acceptable to start drinking them with every meal.

Saranac’s Octoberfest was infinitely better than the Samuel Adams version I sampled a few weeks ago. It was full of flavor, but was neither overwhelming nor sweet, and lacked the unfortunate and surprising aftertaste of the Sam Adams. It was what an Octoberfest lager should be. I felt like my German grandmother would have been proud of me after I practically licked the bottle to get the last drop.

So “Auf wiedersehen,” Saranac. I have a feeling we’ll meet again very soon.





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