A year has gone past, some things have changed and some things haven't. Yesterday I got to throw a snowball in the lower Sonoran desert, so I guess management has decided to let hell's standards fall (mebbe trying to let you in to start a party?). I'd been aging a Dogfish Head 120 minute IPA for us to share on a future trip to AZ, but last night I realized (again and again) that you can't enjoy it now. I took that bottle up into the Superstition Mountains yesterday with no clear intentions (without you to drink it, does it have a purpose?) as the snow and sleet flurries blew down in gusts and eddies, obscuring the steep and windy two-lane road as it careens up and down the narrow canyons. It was a beautiful afternoon. After stopping all along the way for photos, we come to the top of a ridge with sheer drops on either side, and I have to make a choice. It's freezing cold and I'm wearing shorts, the wind howls, there's the bottle, watching and considering my actions.
It is sublime: smooth, somewhat smokey, with a subtle yet rich earthy grounding. Dry aged fruits, peaty notes of scotch, the warm, aged malt, all harmoniously tantalizing the taste buds.
Much too much like the time you spent with us, it is only fleeting. Now a memory, not to be forgotten but to remain as another way to see and experience this world, this life. So rich and complex to escape complete description. So remarkable and brilliant that defy first impressions. Like that brew, instilling so much inspiration into others to do the best and be the best and make the best of themselves.