During my youth I had a long standing romance with Magic Hat #9s. Those mystical beers with their trippy labels and witty remarks on their bottle caps had me hooked. I would relish in the smooth, caramel body and round hints of fruit finishing it out. I couldn't imagine a finer beer and was adamantly sure that we'd be in love forever.
As a gutsy 17 year old, my Friday and Saturday night mission usually involved slipping into the local liquor store and "discretely" packing a cart with a few 30 packs, a bottle of vodka, a handle of rum, and some sort of neon sludge known as Puckers for the high school masses. Any time I had an extra 8 bucks to spend Magic Hat would call my name and I'd be living the good life for the evening.
Sadly- like most young romances, my palate developed I found myself steering away from those charming #9's. On my trips to back to New England now- I tend to lean toward more refined and hoppy brews from Harpoon, Offshore Ale, and other local purveyors of godly grog. I was surprised then, the other evening, to find myself thoroughly enjoying an Audacious Apricot from Pyramid Brewing. It brought me back to those rowdy teenage days. What was better than long nights drinking in the woods, on the beach, and wherever else we could get good and knackered without some authoritative figure giving us shit.
That's why I'm intrigued to meet up with my old girl again on my trip home to Martha's Vineyard this August. Maybe, just maybe, she will sweep me away again to those reckless times of years past. So if you see me standing alone on a dock in the middle of the night- head back and lips puckered- you'll know that we're together again, me and my darling #9.
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