22.11.2014

The usual suspects

Being the national past-time of Finland, drinking is something many people practice within the lovely and not-so-lovely confines of their own homes. Most enthusiastic people even make a sport out of it. Great many are the times I have compared the amount of empty cans on my sofa to the collection of my buddies. If there's a problem in clarity of the situation, fists are employed in gentlemanly manner. Emphasis on the "manly."

So, it should come as a no surprise that even Big Bison likes to crack open a nice, cold one while watching little people beat each other in TV. Hey, it's entertainment! All the way from USA, no less.

Today, as promised, we'll be looking at the home-game variety of Finnish beer. These suckers are the two brands that Finnish men think whenever someone mentions "beer." They're cheap (whatever that means up here in God's asshole) and they do what they promised to: Get us totally newscasted if we drink enough of them.

So, let's sit down in a pile of snow and see what we can scrounge up from within these pitifully small cans with no imagination put into them.



Name: Karhu III (Bear the Third)
Strength: 4,6%
Served: Cool from the fridge
Thought: Good old shit

Okay, so I screwed up a little. That "III" is supposed to signify the type of beer this is. But hell. Doesn't "Bear the Third" sound much more badass of a beer? I think so, at least. I wouldn't be ashamed to tell my Ma that, yes indeed, I'm drinking "Bear the Third" sixth day in a row. Somebody make that into a thing. Give the logo a crown and everything. And send me the money. I need it to buy this "Bear the Third."

So what about the beer itself? It's soft alright. Nothing too oppressive. Typical for lager, in other words. Think of sorta malt-flavored water that gives ticklish sensation in the back of your throat. This is what makes Karhu so popular as a tap beer in non-fancy-pancy places. You can water it down to your heart's content, and nobody notices any difference. You're already acting more drunk than you really are in order to fool your buddies to buy you drinks (and to have an excuse for hitting on girls other than your own), so the same end-result is guaranteed.

Still, everybody knows that beer like this ain't meant to be drank when you want to impress people. This is pure "get-shitfaced-cheap" guilty pleasure, and that's how it should be. Ain't nobody asking it to be anything more. So yeah, for what it's meant to be, it handles itself just fine. If it does one thing well, it's the aftertaste. Well, I say aftertaste, but it's really just the malt again. But hey, if something works, it works, right? I know there are those who turn their overly large noses up at shit like this, but they can go to hell for all I care.

This is a beer made for mass-consumption. And who doesn't like mass-consumption of alcohol?

Grade:







Name: Koff III
Strength: 4,5%
Served: Cool from the fridge
Thought: Same old shit

You know how some guys have that younger brother who does exactly same shit as the older does, only a little worse? Yeah, that's this thing. Now I ain't sure which one came first; Koff or Karhu. Hell, they're both from the same source, and I can't be arsed to check their history. Both are integral part of Finnish drinking culture, at least. Still, the other is more mature in taste and texture, the other... yeah. The other's this thing.

Now, Koff ain't a bad beer, don't get me wrong. But it's decidedly different when you start poking up the innards of the can you're holding. Oh yeah, a quick side-note for both of these beers. You damn better get them ice cold, or you're in for a one hell of a disappointment. Think of your Impala jamming up and being left to the roadside only to be towed by some no-name company and their manslaughter-machine.

The main difference between Karhu and Koff is that the latter doesn't have the same malty goodness going for it. Instead it aims to taste and stay fresh, in a manner of Will Smith. The barley in it tastes rather sharply when you drink, and it stays on your tongue for a good while. Like a snoggin' from a particularly persistent lady. There's really no aftertaste to speak of, since it aims to cool your mouth with freshness. During summer, this works great, but now that the temperatures have dropped like my salary, it just annoys.

The kicker, though? That same freshness makes this beer ideal for smoking a cigarette. When the liquid you pour down to your gullet resets your mouth and throat, every drag tastes almost as good as the first one. So those of you out there that smoke, this might be up your alley even in the middle of Edward Stark's nightmare. For those who don't, however, save it till summer. Or when you can't afford anything better.

Grade:




(Add one middle finger if you're a smoker)



And that's the two most common names in Finnish drinking culture. There are more, of course, out there. This is the promised land of over-priced lager and people with nothing better to do than pass out in the snow while searching for the heart of the Saturday night. And on following nights, I'll be going over those too. But next time, I might head out again to see what the pubs have to offer. And maybe I'll find that damn heart. Or maybe I'll just get into a fight while trying to get a cheap burger. Both sound pretty good.

This is Big Bison, heading out west again.

21.11.2014

You've probably met a motherfucker just like me

With November rolling along like the teats of a pig well on its way on becoming a yuletide ham, the air is starting to turn cold in Finland. With temperature creeping to that of a well-digger's ass, even Big Bison is forced to burrow deeper into his fur-rug jacket and seek shelter inside the many pubs and bars of the city.

This time, the bar in question was a rather well-respected corner pub with a simple name. Sure enough, there's leather chairs and even a smoking section out in the back. No bullshit about kicking us out to the street to practice our vices. But that's not what this blog is about. Interior decorating, that is. Smoking, though, is big part of it.

Anyways, beer! And not just any beer. First choice happened to be something of a "local taste", a draught beer named after the only decent landmark (a pile of dirt) around: Harju. The second choice was Irish sucker, Kilkenny by the name. Despite how it may seem, the beer has nothing to do with best American comedy around. Instead, it gets its name from some punk-ass Irish city. They probably don't even have hobos on the streets.

So, enough gabbing. Let's see what these bad boys have to offer. Without any fancy words or shit like that. I don't know any of those.

In the front: Harju Pale Ale. Kilkenny is shamefully hiding in the back.


Name: Harju Pale Ale
Strength: 5,2%
Served: Straight from the tap
Thought: Better drink this shit fast

So, Harju Pale is bit like that annoying friend you meet while out drinking. At first you're like: "Hey, haven't seen this jackass in a while!" But then, just as quickly, you realize why you originally hated his sorry ass, and just want to beat his face in. What do I mean with this? Other than some guys annoy the hell outta me? Well, lemme elaborate.

The first sip from the glass is soft, I give it that. It goes down your throat nice enough, without any objections. The taste is sorta like syrup on a block of old wood. In other words, it doesn't attack the drinker with the intention of strangling them upon the first encounter. So yeah, it's pleasant enough. Hell, the after-taste is somewhere close to salty liquorice. In other words like ammoniac. Not as bad as you might think. At least it feels that you're drinking something.

But then the magic happens. And I don't mean that in "Disney, Tinkerbell, Fly all the way to England, bitch!"sense. No, this is more like those saggy old raven-hags from Skyrim. You notice that the after-taste, what little there is, doesn't remain for long. In fact, nothing of this beer refuses to sit down and instead books it like a penniless alcoholic in a bar. The taste, the look, the foam... they're all gone in under ten minutes, leaving you with swill roughly the color of that mud puddle outside. There's nothing really to be done after this. All you can shake your head, bare your teeth, and gulp it all down as fast as you can so you can move on to the next drink on the list.

I mean, it's still alcohol. No sense in wasting it.

Now, that said, if you can drink it relatively fast, then this is fine enough beer. Nothing special, and there's nothing new in the taste itself. All the parts can be found in just about every other beer you can order at your local pub. That is, unless you live in USA. Then you're probably drinking something way worse than this. In which case, go for it if you get it.

Grade: 











Name: Kilkenny
Strength: 4.3%
Served: Straight from the tap
Thought: Easyrider

So, after the disappointing last five minutes, it was time to get some  Kilkenny and figure out the deal with this so called red ale. Of course, it's the inferior brand they ship out to foreign lands. Irish would never part with their good alcohol. Nobody ever does. And I don't blame them. I mean, have you tasted some of the shit out there? Wars could start from ownership of that stuff.

Now, first things first: Kilkenny is a showy beer. It's the type you can sit with in a bar and look cooler than without. So those out there on a prowl for whoever is sorry enough to spend a night with you, that's your tip of the night. Now get out of here. We're talking about drinking, not picking up the lady-folk.

Anyhow, the beer itself: it smells slightly like wood, which is always a good thing. Anything that smells weird is enough to raise my fluctuating interest. Unfortunately, it's here that the weirdness ends. Kilkenny tastes... really normal. Like normal normal. Wake-up-at-ten-and-finish-that-pizza-you-bought-last-night normal. It goes down easy, it doesn't try to fight its way back up like Brian Blessed on Everest, There's really nothing catch interest. And that's big sin in my books. Even bad beer can be nice to drink as long as its different. This thing, though?

Nothing. I might just be drinking back home. At least it'd be cheaper.

Still, I suppose it's easy, like I said. If you need that thing on your hand and sometimes on your lips to pass time, this might as well be your choice. Just don't come crying to me when you can't even remember what it was that you drank. Nothing bad and nothing good. Plus minus zero. Unless you live in USA, in which case you'd be blessed to drink this.

Grade: 










And with that, I'm outta stuff to say for tonight. Next up, I'm probably talk about Finnish store-variety beers. There's lot of shit to go through there, and lot of gabbing to do. Least not being to just what depths Finnish beers can sink into.

This is Big Bison, heading out west again.