Beer and Loathing in Vermont - Part 8

Alexander Keith's IPA
Free at the hotel reception.
Smells vaguely like corn, like a macro beer. Tastes kinda floral. Quite effervescent and refreshing if otherwise unremarkable. For the price, it's not like I as going to ask for a refund.

I wander in the 'underground city' late at night when everything's closed only to discover that it's an overgrown train station that adjoins a shopping mall and we leave Montréal the next morning.

The ice cream factory we tour filled with overcaffeinated children and the noise drives the sanity from my head. The tour wasn't my idea, but I can only drink so many beers in a day (despite my immortal reputation), and I'm too sleepy from lunch to resist.

Lunch, by the way, was a burger whose patty was literally 50% bacon. Which, I suppose, puts the 'ham' in 'hamburger'. It made me feel simultaneously as though I were truly living and truly dying.

At dinner, I nose out some Heady Topper, which I drink straight from the can (the preferred way). It's big and hoppy, but "so drinkable it's scary." Kinda citra-y. Exactly the kind of beer I'd normally avoid, but it's just too good to ignore. Like a big, balanced hop salad, but it makes my head hurt.

I get a Hill Farmstead George at the Mule Bar across the river. It's a dry porter with some backing chocolate and maybe some walnut or hazelnut; nutty chicory as it warms.

I also got a Brown's Whiskey Porter, which is mellow and smooth with something I can't read because this was about the time when I dropped my pen on the floor of the bar, leaving my mark, so to speak, in chemically indelible ink, and bending the nib.