I drank a beer last Friday that tasted like cold, weak, black tea. This delighted me as I rather like tea like that. Others were not quite so taken by its flavour. Perhaps the word beer primed their tastebuds too much. (I cannot unfortunately remember what the beer was).

This is seemingly a problem with Geuze, the lambic king of beers. Again it does not really taste like beer. This wonderful Belgian brew which I had another of my semi regular bottles of at the Swimmer on Saturday, got passed around the party who mostly agreed that
a) It was nice
b) It did not taste like beer
c) They could not drink a whole one
The premium on a beer that tastes a bit like a over-ripe cider may seem bizarre, until you factor in its scarcity and the factor a) above. It is really nice.

The same may not strictly be said for Pink Cloves, the much fabled Publog occasional drink of which a bottle was finally sourced on Friday. A more aptly named drink I cannot think of. It is bright pink, and tastes of cloves. As a cordial you only need a dash to change the taste of your drink, and the smell of the whole room. A mere sliver is another to mask any subtleties of gin, and frankly its addition to Bison Grass Vodka seemed more than a touch sacrilegious. The only thing it could not completely overpower was tonic water, which resulted in a sickly light pink drink which was also remarkably sharp. It was unpleasant. As a stunt drink Pink Cloves is a nice warming experience, but its historical place (as a favoured drink of Devon no less) does harken back to a day where plenty of drinks tasted horrible, and a masking agent was need to make it palatable. You could drink meths with enough Pink Cloves, and aside from the colour it would be palatable. Come to think of it I think it is called Aftershock.