Beer O'Clock: A Loss of Taste

About a month ago, someone from a marketing company reached out to me to invite me to visit Blyth, Ontario, a small village more than 45 minutes northwest of Stratford.

It's home to a well-loved brewery, Cowbell. As far back as 2016, I tried, loved, and reviewed their Kölsch, Absent Landlord. The person who contact me represents the brewery and was hoping that I would take a road trip and write a review of the brewery.

Unfortunately, I have no plans to head that way this year. I was in Stratford last year and the year before, but won't take in the theatre season in 2025.

Maybe next year, I replied, but not this year.

The marketing person said that she understood that a drive to Blyth is a long way to go to grab a beer. She then offered to send me some beer, with the hopes that I'd review it.

Of course, I said, telling her that I would give a fair review. But I cautioned her that if I had issues with the beer, I would say so in a fair and kind manner (I like Cowbell, after all). If I really didn't like the beer, I wouldn't write a review; instead, I'd contact the brewery and have a discussion about the brew—perhaps there was a flaw in the production line, and I wouldn't want to base my review on a bad batch.

So, sometime in the next few weeks, I can expect a care package in the mail and I will do my best to give a good review.

So long and thanks for all the beer.

But here's the rub: recently, I've lost my taste for beer. I KNOW! I'm as surprised as you are.

I keep very little beer in the house, these days. More than a month ago, when I was in Toronto, I stopped at a brewery and brought a dozen cans home—two of six different brews. I bought one that was recommended by the person who ran the shop and reviewed it the following week.

Since then, I've only occasionally gone to my basement fridge an pulled out a random can. The various brews are fine but they haven't given me that 'wow' factor.

When I go out to karaoke night, I've had only one beer for the evening. Hummingbird serves an IPA from Overflow Brewing Company that's quite good: Landlocked. When they ran out, a while ago, and were serving a lager, I stopped drinking beer and the server noticed. So he made sure to put in an order for Landlocked and he pulls one from the fridge whenever I walk in the room.

I drink it because I feel obligated, not because it's what I want. I'm kinda off beer.

At home, I may have only one or two drinks per week, and when I'm not trying to finish off the beer that's in my fridge, I make myself a margarita or a gin and tonic. On rare occasions, DW and I will split a bottle of wine.

I haven't become a teetotaller but I've significantly limited my alcohol consumption.

While I'm looking forward to the Cowbell brews that will be sent to me and I will whole-heartedly give a review my all, I'm thinking that Beer O'Clock has finally run its course. From being a regular occurrence on The Brown Knowser to being a rare post, I don't think beer reviews follow the new theme of my blog, which has turned to being mostly about writing, travelling, kayaking, and photography.

Plus a few rants here and there.

For all I know, my taste for beer will return and I'll want to write more reviews in the future. But until I want to make Beer O'Clock a regular part of my blog again, the Cowbell review will be the last one.

Stay tuned.