RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Thursday, December 24

St. George Brewing Company Porter


AFFORDABILITY: This is a Country Blessings bottle of beer, one with a hefty price tag and a medieval Euro motif to it, and one that I’ve been putting off writing about because it does not jibe with me too well, at the time or in retrospect. Even if I saw a living history practitioner sitting behind an authentic old house at the Frontier Culture Museum in Staunton, stealing sips of this here St. George’s Porter, I would still have low thoughts of it, unless the living history dude gave me a couple of Polish chickens to make me not tell his bosses he was drinking beer on the volunteer job. Polish chickens look like punk rockers from Jackie Chan movies made in 1987. 1 out of 5.
DESTROYABILITY: It is hard to tell if it got me drunk or gave me a buzz because it reminds far too much of a Renaissance Fair, and I did not drink it out of a horn cup. It seems sad to me that the people who Renaissance Fair up their lives tend to be pale-skinned types, because were I an old school dude from Medieval times finding myself a chick to make offspring inside of, and I tore down the nine layers of clothes, I would be bummed to see some white ass skin underneath. At the same time, to be true to the times, probably if I saw a chick’s ankle I’d get amped up to have sex. Everything’s relative. I often wish someone out there in this world of ours made historic porn where clothes came off slow and in layers and the sex was built towards rather than it just being a naked chick right away with twelve penises circling her head like turkey vultures. Porn has let us regular folk down, as has this beer. 2 out of 5.
LABEL AESTHETIC: Classical style Renaissance Fair looking labels could go either way. On one hand, it could conjure up the notion of vikings and boiling oil and sexing maidens on one of those beds with the cornerposts and all the gauzy curtains everywhere. But on the other hand, there is that whole Renaissance Fair aspect, where people drink homemade mead out of horns, but not in a cool way, instead very pretentious. I am torn completely, but the label is nicely done, so either way, viking berserker or medieval fetish dork, I'll give it the benefit of the doubt, even though I know viking berserkers don't drink dorky expensive beer like this. I'm a little hungover tonight, so forgive me, as I push through the fog. Tomorrow will be a new day though. 3 out of 5.
CORPORATE MASTER: Some Tidewater, Virginia, microbrewing company on some sort of old world kick. I'm not sure how down I am with that. The only part of Tidewater I really like to support is the part that has dogfights and plays that song "Virginia" by The Clipse and sells black Santana Moss bootleg jerseys at strip mall fashion stores where you can get a lake trout sandwich two doors down. 1 out of 5.
OVERALL AMBIANCE: All in all, St. George in spirit as a beer reminds me too much of dudes who would be proud to drink honey mead out of some sort of horn and try to convince you for about an hour-and-a-half that those Renaissance dork things are actually very alpha male and macho. Nothing about this porter grabbed my inner-porter lover, which seems to be a prejudiced porter lover that likes the eastern Euro types with a hefty touch of chocolate rather than other beery hophead porters. 0 out of 5.
TOTAL RATING: 1 & 2/5 STARS!

2 comments:

Joel said...

St. George is an undercover piece of ultra wealthy Williamsburg moved to the ghetto of Newport News in an effort to milk some money from the air force/army/navy officers that are willing to shill out $6 bucks for a pint of beer that sucks.

Raven Mack said...

That makes sense to me. I will not be buying any other St. George shit just from the lackluster performance of the first overpriced 6-pack I bought.