When my brother graduated from college in Boston, we made a beer run and picked up Dogfish Head IPA for his celebratory party. I had it again when I married, and again when I saluted the birth of my firstborn.
I gave my palate a lasting chance to figure out pumpkin beers, and came away with one favorite, one that was pretty good, and one that was lacking.
The days of dourly downing mass-produced lite beer because that’s all that’s on tap are over. Thank God.
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