St. Bernardus Abt 12, one of the finer abbey ales I’ve ever had. My first experience with it was last weekend at the Belgian Beer Fest hosted by The Muddy Pig in St. Paul, and I knew I had to try it again. So I hunted around at my usual craft beer haunts, with no luck. Then I found it hiding in the back shelf of a liquor store I hardly ever frequent, known primarily for its wine selection. But, turns out, they also have a ton of great beers. It’s a little out of the way for me, but I may add it to my list of libation locales. Needless to say, I purchased more than one bottle, and brought them over to a friend’s house for a birthday celebration.

This is where my Friday evening took an ugly turn. After enjoying several different beers, including the St. Bernardus bombers, I decided I needed a breath of fresh air. Now, my friend has this beautiful downtown condo, the kind of industrial style/exposed ductwork/polished concrete floor/granite countertop pad that you’d expect to find in the bustling Warehouse District of Minneapolis. I made my way over to the patio, a very nice outdoor lounging area providing a picturesque view of the surrounding downtown area.

However, instead of quietly slipping outside to take in the night air, I turned to the doorway, and proceeded to walk completely through the sliding screen door. And I’m not talking about gently bumping into the screen door and innocently pushing it off its hinges. I’m talking something like a running back grabbing the rock on the 2 yard line and plowing his way through a seam in the line to score, shoulder down with a full head of steam. The door violently ejected from its track, flying halfway across the patio. The noise was other-worldly. I stood there with my entire beer spilled all over my head and shirt. The now destroyed screen door lay precariously teetering on the edge of my friend’s patio table, my left foot now through the three foot rip I had made in the mesh screen. The entire party of 30+ people stopped in horror, staring at the trainwreck that had just then become my evening. My eyes bulged out at the damage I had created, a feeling of dread and shame quickly coming over me like a wave.

But everyone began to racously laugh their asses off. It was a classic moment, one for the books.  

I tried defending my case to anyone who would listen, saying that the backdrop of inky black night against the black mesh camouflaged the screen door, making it appear that the patio portal was wide open. But nobody bought it. And they knew why. St. Bernardus Abt 12. An intoxicatingly delicious beer. Everything a complex quad should be. The kind of beer that’ll have you intelligently engaging in sophisticated political conversations one minute, and destroying your friend’s property value the next. Thanks St. Bernardus Abt 12. You have given my friends one more reason to poke good-natured fun at me for my clumsy mishaps. I will now forever be known by my newly earned nickname — “Kool-Aid”. Ohhhh yeah.  

Rating: A

Advertisements