Lakefront Brewery Fixed Gear

Fixed Gear from Lakefront Brewery in Milwaukee, WI is an American Red Ale that describes itself as "Red, bold and damn good." It's also apparently a beer homage to bicycle couriers.
It's a beautiful, cloudy red ale with a creamy head. And it is bold. The flavor is obvious and distinct, and it's a generous 6.5% alcohol by volume. Damn good? Well, yes. But for me, that depends on the situation.

My first impression was that it was a little too fruity for me. It's a little like sticking your face into a bowl of citrus—although not in an altogether bad way. Does that mean that there's a good way to stick your face into a bowl of citrus? That's probably a question for a different blog.

So while you're pondering the merits of citrus-facing (it's the new planking!), let me tell you how the second impression went. Still fruity. But there's something else there, too. Turns out this beer, under the right circumstances, is quite refreshing. Those right circumstances could be:
1) You're thirsty
2) You feel like a beer
3) You just mowed the lawn
4) You're watching TV
5) You just hammered out a killer break-dance routine
The possibilities are endless, really. But you kind of have to just feel it out. It's definitely a bright, flavorful beer that can often be just the thing you're looking for. But if you're not in the mood for an in-your-face citrus explosion, leave Fixed Gear in the fridge for next time.

So, you may be getting the impression that I'm a little on the fence about Fixed Gear. If you like a hoppy, fruity flavor, you may well love it. As for me, it's quite good, but there's plenty of beer I like better for everyday drinking. But this I can say with certainty: in all the wide world of beers dedicated to bike messengers, this is probably my favorite.

Leinenkugel's Limited

First brewed in 1986, Leinenkugel's Limited apparently gained a rabid enough following to bring it out of what I can only assume was a relaxing retirement full of bass fishing and afternoon naps. So, for a limited time, this self-proclaimed "classic lager" will once again be available for mass consumption.

The label calls it a "golden lager" and I can't disagree. It is a lager. And it is relatively golden—definitely not the mostly colorless concoctions that some would pass off as beer. It's probably better than a few, but generally a relatively bland lager—easy to drink, light and not overly flavorful.

I can't call this my favorite beer, but I don't think it wants to be. This is the kind of beer that would feel right at home in a dimly lit, wood-paneled basement bar—the flavors providing the perfect complement to the general aroma of moth balls and pipe smoke. It's the kind of beer by which countless young men seeking a blessing have been baptized into the family of a future father-in-law. Even the label could easily match those black-velvet wildlife paintings surrounding the dartboard. So, if that's your thing, pull out your favorite ochre vinyl-seated bar stool and revel in the tongue-loosening elixir that is Leinenkugel's Limited. You have my blessing.