The Workman’s Friend

“When things go wrong and will not come right,
Though you do the best you can,
When life looks black as the hour of night –
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.”

Flann O’brian’s eponymous ode to stout has been playing in our minds like a Joe Strummer ballad on repeat. The end of the summer brings strong sun in LA, strong storms in the south, and a need for something curative amidst the anxiety of our time.
In this case the stout is indeed an antidote to the heat of the end. Restless from hard work, lamenting the terrifying fervor of the RNC: sitting down with a glass of something dark and heavy is the very bailiwick of we. Here we fight fire with fire, the heavy with weight, darkness with dark beer. The crude color at Captain Stout, while reminiscent of more brutal elements, is the cup of alcoholic soup that every big kid needs at the finish line of a long day of racing.
Historically the roots of what is known and defined as stout are contested. Argument aside, we all know that heavy handfuls of roasted malts yields something sweet and creamy, something origionally drank by the workers as a drug, an uplifter and, in a pinch, a meal. In its early formulas, what we call stout is what past drinkers called “plain.”
Alpine Beer Company’s Captain Stout is just the thing to sweeten the sour of heart. A lighter bodied stout, it is far from plain. Once in your glass a utopian vision of a quick fade to black occurs; all that is plain is replaced by the hue of the Captain. Budweiser darkens, Heineken blushes brown, and the fizz of the macro brew thickens to a velvety froth. The malts in the Captain stand above all else, evoking both the morning smile of a cup of Joe and the evening relish of a little chocolate somethin’-somethin.’ This is a rich stout in nuance, one not overwrought with handfuls of hops and too many ingredients. A return from the now ubiquitous and seemingly cheapened cry of the celebrity chef to “let the components speak for themselves,” in Alpine’s bottles they actually do.
After the mellow buzz from a pint of the Captain, Flann’s refrain reveals itself not as the ramblings of a desperate drunk hunched over a fleet of empty glasses but a quiet reminder of the curative aspects of our favorite elixir. Alpine’s slogan “Drink Alpine Beer or Go To Bed!” seals the deal. Finish the bottle and sit up straight. Roll back your shoulders and thank your now drank homie for soothing what ales you (pun intended), and go smile at someone for fucks sake! Stay out of Bed!
Dairy Pairy: Lord of the Hundreds, a hard raw sheep milk from the UK.
Soundtrack: Toots and Maytals’ “Pomps and Pride”