Block House Brewing Pumpkin Ale Commercial Description:
“This medium-body ale pours a glowing golden-orange color with subtle reddish shading, and enchants the nose with a wallop of graham cracker crust, ginger snap cookies, and subtle notes of brown sugar. The boldness of the 7.0% ABV is hidden beneath layers of creamy vanilla, hearty nutmeg and a hint of caramel that when blended together creates a homemade pumpkin pie taste.”
…layers of creamy vanilla, hearty nutmeg and a hint of caramel…
Additions: Pumpkin, nutmeg, vanilla, caramel
Block House Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Style: Pumpkin Ale
Christmas day 1989 I sat miserably in a corner at my grand mothers house. My head hurt from the low grade burns on my temples from a curling iron debacle earlier in the day. The burnt hair small lingered in the air like a nimbus cloud of failed eighties girls fashion. In an attempt to not look down at my legs, which were clad in doily socks and patent leather mary janes, I stared off into the distance to start mentally reciting my vow to never forgive my mother for dressing me like this, unless, of course if I got a Pound Puppy.
Fighting back tears, I entered a transcendental consciousness while staring at a glass candy jar. This glass jar, circa 1970, was emblazoned with Minnie Mouse dressed as a barbershop quartet and below her feet stated “FOR GOOD LITTLE GIRLS.” Inside the candy jar was hard butterscotch candy. There was always butterscotch candy in that jar. Who even likes butterscotch candy? How old was that butterscotch candy? I can assure you that butterscotch candy was not a motivator to be a good little girl. Even for 1989, the jar, the candy, the hair and the outfit was old fashioned. Hell even Minnie Mouse in a bow was old fashioned.
And then I got a Pound Puppy and my hatred dissipated and I found new problems such as being creeped out by shrimp cocktail.
Sipping Block House Brewing Pumpkin Ale is like being forced fed grandma’s butterscotch candy and burnt hair. Its old fashioned, even down to the label. It’s sweet like being pinched in the cheeks. Punishingly sweet. I’d try to cut it with Guinness in order to salvage the beer.