Brooklyn Lager, Love

Brooklyn Lager was perhaps One Woman's first malty love. I mean, *true* love. Of course, there's a lot to love about many, many beers. I love Green Flash Le Freak because it's a sexy masterwork of hoptasticness, or the Monk's Cafe Flemish Sour because it opened up whole new terrain of the sensorium. And can you really beat the delight of a fruity and potent Karmeliet Tripel poured to you directly by the brewery under a tent at the the beer festival in Brussells? But while Brooklyn Lager is  a great beer in its own right--it has deliciously toasted malts and  beautifully sculpted by understated foam, hops that smell like early summer grass--words fail to describe my love for this beer. As Uncle Roland used to say, "What is there to say about what one loves except I love it, and keep on saying it?" Brooklyn Lager is a beer with memories. The smell and the taste immediately awakens sensations of places, times, sounds, all swirled together into something magical and joyfully fizzy. That a trademark recipe, and the promise in the green, black, and yellow sign can bring you all this love is both wonderful and very frightening. Love complicates capitalism.  

One Woman lived in the moment with this Brooklyn Lager with This One Guy, who brought home a happy six pack of these beers for a movie night at home. While watching Roman Polanski's China Town, the Brooklyn Lager accompanied us in rediscovering the joys of 1970s Hollywood orchestral re-imaginations of 1930s LA.

"Hold it there, kitty-cat!"

Nothing stands between me and my Brooklyn, except Roman Polanski

Musical Pairing of the moment: "Feels so Good," by Chuck Mangione, fluegelhorn player and composer, born and bred in New York State (click on the link to listen). "Feels so Good" is a 1970s classic that sent Chuck soaring up the charts in 1977. It's got all the outward markers of smooth jazz, but with tight arrangements and real chops in the background--although that's sugar coated too. But don't be fooled by prejudice. Smooth jazz, just like any genre of music you're able to purchase, market buy tickets to see, share videos of, whatever, is bound up in a complex relationship of love, repulsion, and money. But anyway, it feels so good, and sounds so good. This is lounge jazz at its best, even though he's left out of most written accounts of jazz history. This song is dedicated to This One Guy, with love.