Beer from Here: Rhinegeist Streaker

The Fourth of July. Time for fireworks, cookouts, and at least half of the population sporting a collective ‘Merica boner so large it can be seen from space. Oh, and delicious beer. Rhinegeist’s newest offering is one of the ‘Merica-est and tastiest beers of the summer: Streaker, a rye IPA that is made with bald eagle tears and a pinch of bone dust from the grave of Bob Ross (I consider boss Ross to be one of America’s greatest contributions to the world). It’s also made with other beer-like stuff. Probably.

On the nose, this beer is dank. Like, your friend’s brother (named Chaz) who hydroponically grows his own stuff in his basement and gives it names like Full Metal Wookie, and Sour Midnight. That dank. If you’re still not getting the reference, this beer is all about huge notes of wet pine and prickly citrus. An earthy spice (from the rye) compliments perfectly, while sticky notes of mango and pineapple slide in at the back of each breath and fill your olfactory tubes to capacity. (Note: I never read a beer before I drink it. The can tells the same aromatic story, but I’d like to say my version is a bit more creative). Beneath everything, hints of crackers and bread crust create just enough backbone to keep this beast from spiraling out of control. This beer needs to be in a glass (all beers should be, but for Cthulhu’s sake, put this in a glass. Your nose will thank you.)

In your mouth, crackers arrive first, before being decimated by a massive dank bomb of the same wet pine and zesty citrus. There is a noticeable bitterness, but this beer is not a tongue-melter. Faint mangoes join up to create a resinous sheen across the tongue, while the rye adds its earthy spice to the mix, and makes you shed a single tear of bliss. Warning: You will need to pace yourself with this beer. It’s only 6%, and you may find yourself consuming it much too fast. Even though it is delicious, and remarkably refreshing, and seems to call out your name like a beer-borne siren song, lulling you back to the glass to take another sip…No! You must show control!

If aliens arrived tomorrow, probes in hand, and said “Bring us your finest refreshments, and you will be spared”, I would have a hard time deciding whether to drink my can of Streaker, or offer it to them. This shit is delicious. It is one of those magical beers that is in perfect harmony with not only itself, but everything around it. I was craving a midsummer beer with massive aromatics and quenching flavor. As if reading my thoughts, Streaker was there, in my hand. And I knew happiness. There is nary a negative to be found within its aluminum walls. Drink this beer. Drink it for America. /eagle cry