Don't Just Stare At It; Eat It

On September 8th, 2004, I began my employment at a liquor store in West Yarmouth. Adorning the upper-middle shelf of Aisle 5, on its left-hand side (if you're coming from the beer cooler) was a four-pack of beer called Samichlaus Bier. On September 9th, 2004, I became aware of and simultaneously fascinated with this brew.

Prior to my tenure in the industry, I'd always simply thought of beer as just that - beer. Something Uncles drink at barbecues, and which my Auntie Jeannie likes to have a few of with her bologna sandwiches. At the time, if it wasn't the King of Beers, I could scarcely tell it apart from anything else on the shelf. But in my first day working the bottle-redemption center, I'd seen enough beer labels to ascertain that beer is usually about 5% ABV. Which is why, when I spotted the (boldly) printed Alcohol Content of 14 percent, I was intrigued. Then upon glancing down at the price of $21.99+ deposit for FOUR beers... I was really curious. I mean, if Budweiser was the King of Beers, why was a sixer of that only $5.80 plus deposit, and this mystery brew so much more for so much less! It just didn't add up. I shared this sentiment with my friend and co-worker Andrew, whose knowledge of beer was stronger than mine, but who still found Samichlaus intriguing.

Five years and probably two hundred forty-eight thousand beers later, my knowledge and palate have both, at least somewhat, evolved. At least enough to the point where with beers like Dogfish Head's Worldwide Stout and Sam Adams' Utopia in existence, all of a sudden that Samichlaus didn't seem so bizarre. However, in these five years, I had acquired not only a breadth of beer knowledge, but an inordinate amount of bills and debts to pay off. Therefore, I'd be damned before I'd spend $25 bucks on four 11.2 oz bottles of beer. In case you're curious, that means that for every sip I would theoretically take, I could consider myself $0.55 less wealthy.

So for now, I was happy - at least relatively so. With no money yesterday, I still had a few brews in my fridge. Granted, they were all of my last resort leftovers from various mix packs. But I wasn't without beer. All be it some of New York's finest. Can't knock Genesee though - remember how Samichlaus is about $0.55 per sip? I ran some calculations of Genesee, and right now it's about $0.55 per can. Even if it tasted like piss, it'd be a fair consideration for quaffing.

Yes, I was satisfied with my cheapies.

Yesterday, however, upon casually noticing at work that the shelf-talker I'd put up for Samichlaus was off-center, and after re-adjusting it, I stared at the four-pack. When was I... or rather, was I ever going to try Samichlaus? Or was it going to be an elusive concept until the end of my days? But as quickly as that terrifying thought swept my conscious mind, so too did the consequent revelation: yesterday was November 2nd - Andrew's birthday! A man with whom I'd shared this fascination, and with whom over the course of the years I'd become very close - close enough to live with him, anyway.

And before you ask, we're not that close. I do have a girlfriend.

Knowing the child-like smile I'd be putting on my now 24-year old buddy was almost enough motivation to purchase it for him as a gift. However... knowing his generosity would allow for no other alternative than to share it with me was DEFINITELY ENOUGH MOTIVATION.

Fast forward four hours, twenty-five dollars, and one hasty wrap-job later, Andrew's first words upon opening his gift in front of me were: "Shut the fuck up" - a heart-warming sentiment!! Gleefully, he insisted that we drink some of this malt liquor together, and watch a movie I'd never seen before called American Psycho.

Now, if you've never seen this film before, then you're probably not thinking much at this point. However, if you have, then you're most likely realizing what I eventually knew - a highly alcoholic beverage mixed with such a bizarre, high-octane movie, creates a mood almost as insane as the tone of that film. After my first glass and a half, I found myself feeling capable of performing what Patrick Bateman did in the following clip.





Patrick Bateman, despite his faults, did have a few pearls of wisdom, not counting his knowledge of Whitney Houston tracks. During one scene, he encourages a prostitute he dubs Christy to bend over, so that the other prostitute he calls Sabrina might "See her asshole". There was a brief period of time where Sabrina stares at Christy's nether-regions, clearly very unsure about the next step. After his seemingly mundane diatribe, Bateman asserts possibly his greatest line in the film:

"Sabrina, don't just stare at it; eat it!"

After my laughter and mild applause, it occurred to me that I could make a very fitting metaphor with this scenario and apply it to my experiences with Samichlaus.

I can consider myself, obviously, to be Sabrina. Samichlaus Bier would be, in this case, Christy's asshole.

Now although sometimes a decision is hard to make, sometimes you've got to make it. Expensive though it may be, monetarily or otherwise, it's got to be done. Otherwise you just go your whole life staring at it, wondering what it might taste like. And the only way to know for sure is to submit to Patrick Bateman's goading.

Which is why I can proudly say - I have tasted the asshole, and it is good.

Like some men can say proudly, "I am a man of God", I can with equal zeal say "I am a man of Whiskey." My love for whiskey - bourbon in particular - is perhaps the only reason why the alcoholic "burn" of this malt liquor didn't singe my tonsils. Upon opening the bottle, the smell does tend to pervade the nostrils. It, to some extent, masks any trace of malt, hops... anything reminiscent of beer. But upon closer inspection, I tended to detect something dark and sinister, yet oddly soothing in the bouquet. How appropriate that we cracked this open while watching American Psycho? Perhaps that's where I draw my sinister thoughts from. Or perhaps it's from the deeply black bottle, with a simple black label, void of much decoration aside from the silver lettering and the boldly stated ABV. It's taste is as dark, if not darker, than the odor. Like some dark, fruity licorice that's been in the microwave for eleven seconds, then in the freezer for five. It is good - as good as I expected - and dangerously so. Despite its intoxicating factors, it is as smooth as the Genesee I'd been drinking prior, and less astringent. Tempted though I was to quaff this, its alcohol content and its cost prevented me from doing so. One glass lasted me a two-hour long movie. I suspect that when I buy my own four-pack someday, I will keep it for a few years, just to see what happens.