When Beer Tries to Sit on Two Chairs at Once
Ah, the craft beer industry, never one to leave a stone unturned or a niche unfilled, has done it again with Cellarmaker Brewing Company's latest concoction, Zero Complaints. It's a Hazy West Coast IPA, because why decide between being hazy or west coast when you can ambiguously be both? It's like deciding to wear both sandals and boots at the same time because you can't make up your mind about the weather.
Let's dive into this liquid paradox that promises a no-complaints experience. First off, the name Zero Complaints is bold. It's as if they've thrown down the gauntlet to every beer snob and casual drinker alike, daring them not to find something to nitpick. It's like naming a restaurant "Absolutely No Food Poisoning." Brave? Yes. Tempting fate? Absolutely.
The beer itself is an enigmatic blend of hazy and clear, like it's going through an identity crisis. On one side, you have the hazy IPA lovers who want their beer to resemble a thick, unfiltered fog, something you might need a spoon rather than a glass for. On the other, the West Coast IPA aficionados demand crisp, clear beers as sharp as the Pacific breeze, with bitterness that could cut glass.
Zero Complaints attempts to marry these two very distinct and often feuding families. It's the Romeo and Juliet of the beer world, without all the tragedy and a lot more hops. It's as if someone said, "Let's make a beer that's both Instagrammable and actually tastes like beer," a novel concept in an industry where the line between beer and fruit juice is increasingly blurred.
What's in the taste, you ask? It's like they've taken the essence of confusion, bottled it, and slapped a label on it. The first sip leaves you wondering, "Am I tasting the bold, piney notes of a West Coast IPA or the soft, juicy embrace of a New England Hazy?" By the time you decide, the beer's finished, leaving you more mystified than when you started.
The marketing behind "Zero Complaints" is just as delightfully contradictory as the beer itself. It's marketed to everyone and no one at the same time. It's for the hop heads, the haze craze folks, the beer purists, and the casual drinkers who just want something that tastes good without having to understand the hop profile or the yeast strain used.
In conclusion, Zero Complaints is a masterclass in sitting firmly on the fence, making a beer that's supposed to please everyone and, in doing so, is a perfect reflection of the craft beer industry's ongoing identity crisis. It's a delicious, confusing, and utterly drinkable metaphor for the times — a beer that promises no complaints, in a world where complaining about beer is half the fun. Cheers to that!
Cheers you, silly Bastards!
