Colorado is definitely a beer state, and not just because Coors comes from the Rocky Mountain State. No, it is also home to New Belgium (of Fat Tire fame) and seemingly countless other micro and craft breweries. While in Breckenridge for a ski weekend, I decided I had to at least try one of these, and because it turned out to be the only one available at dinner, my choice happened to come from the creatively named Breckenridge Brewery. The brewery, by the way, is actually no longer in Breckenridge, having expanded and moved to Denver in 1992.

The only brew available was their Agave Wheat, and while I have been trying to avoid wheat beers, I still wanted this one to keep things local. It came bottled and when I poured it out it looked like your average wheat beer, but I suspected the agave nectar might give it a bit of a honey flavor.

If it did, my beer palette was definitely not refined enough to notice. Instead, I just felt myself drinking a very good wheat beer. While I usually relegate light and slightly sweet wheat beers like this to summer, I was impressed by how refreshing it tasted in the dead of winter. Yet, while satisfying, drinking this beer only made me realize how much I wanted to drink their other beers. I did not get the chance on this trip, but I hope the many beers of Colorado can one day make their way into my belly and blood stream. It may take a while, but Breckenridge Agave Wheat has assured me that it will be worth the journey. To get in contact with Brewskis Beverage >View more here<.

In the Cook Islands, 90% percent of the beer consumed is imported. Sure, most of it just comes from New Zealand, a mere three hours and International Date Line away by flight, but it is still shame when you consider the small island of Rarotonga has not one, but two breweries. One of these is the Cooks Lager Brewery and it is nothing like any brewery you’ve seen before. It resides in an old supermarket in the town of Avarua and has only existed for less than two years (replacing a defunct Cooks Lager brewing company that had shut down years before). Yet, in those two years, the five-man operation of Cooks Lager has begun to make its dent in the local brew scene.

While the brewery makes a lager by the same name, it also brews two other beers. One is their “Cheeky Darkie” (as one of the owners of the brewery told me, they are not PC) and the other is their Blonde. During my time on the island, the Blonde wasn’t available, but I did get to try the other two.

The original Cooks Lager is a delicious, light (in flavor), refreshing beer. For a simple lager, it has some good body and the brewing process leaves the beer just a bit cloudy to give it a texture similar to that of a wheat beer. The brewery is now starting to get this brew out to some bars and restaurants, but it can also be found in 750 ml plastic bottles in various stores around the island. It’s great for kicking back on the beach, and by beach I only mean the beaches of the Cook Islands, because without preservatives, this beer isn’t gonna be shipped anywhere in the near future.

The potentially offensive Darkie beer can only be found in those plastic bottles outside of the brewery, but is definitely worth trying. Not a dark like a stout or a porter, the Darkie is more of an amber ale and is a nice companion to the Lager. This beer is much more suited for mealtime than for sitting out on the beach, as it is more of a flavor beer than a refreshing beer, but is also pretty good for lounging around a cabana after a rough afternoon of snorkeling.

The Cooks Lager Brewery is certainly on its way up in Rarotonga and I hope the time comes soon that 90% of the beer consumed in the Cook Islands are local and the other 10% are from people who are simply unwilling to try something new and refreshing.

In my continuing quest to enjoy the delicious beer flavors of the Northwoods here in Southern California, I found myself staring at a large can of beer at Whole Foods. How I wound up in Whole Foods is a sad, sordid story, but I was intrigued by a beer out of the Cold Spring brewery in Minnesota called Honey Almond Weiss. Surely, this would be the closest I could get to Leinenkugel’s Honey Weiss, brewed in Minnesota’s neighbor, Wisconsin. Plus, it didn’t hurt that this beer can contained one entire quart of beer.

I poured it out into my massive Michigan mug and it filled it perfectly, with just the right amount of head at the top to give the beer some breathing room. Then I got to drinking and the first thing I noticed was that this was surely no Leinie’s. The beer was a much darker amber than Leinie’s, but I didn’t want to let the look decide for me. Upon first drink, I realized that this was a sweeter beer, more along the lines of a hefeweizen than I had wanted. Yet, for the deeper color, the feel of the beer was more along the lines of a root beer float (the root beer part) than your typical wheat beer.

It was an interesting mix, and as for the almond, I must say I really couldn’t taste it. I’m sure it was there, but even though I was looking out for it, I didn’t really get much of an almond vibe.

I must give the beer some points for potency, though, for by the time I reached the bottom of my mug I feeling pretty good.

So while I wouldn’t recommend this beer for any sort of aficionado, I do think it has its place for people looking for a beer similar to a hefeweizen, but hoping for something a little different.

But for me, as I continue my quest for happiness and beer, I don’t think I’ll be needing another quart of Cold Spring Honey Almond Weiss.

Ever notice that the Summer Solstice is never actually the hottest day of the year? You would think being the longest day would correspond with being the hottest, but you would be wrong. Those crazy hot days never seem to come around until July or August. But during some of those hot non-solstice days I found a beer called Summer Solstice, from the Anderson Valley Brewing Company. Could it make up for the misleading real Summer Solstice by being the hottest (by hottest I mean greatest, not literally hot because that would presumably taste terrible) beer of the year? I intended to find out.

Two things about the packaging of Summer Solstice instantly drew me in. The first was that the label of the six-pack described the beer as a Cerveza Crema. Tightly translated, that means Cream Ale. One of my favorite beers of all-time, Spotted Cow, also happens to be a cream ale. The second thing that convinced me to buy the beer was also on the label: bears with antlers. I love bears and I love antlers, so why wouldn’t I love a beer with both on the label? It also didn’t hurt that the bottle caps called Anderson Valley Brewing Company (based in Boonville, Mendocino County, California) a “Solar Powered Brewery.” Even the sun supports beer (or at least 40% of beer, as research has taught me 40% of the brewery is powered by solar panels)!

Finally, I got the beer home and tried it out. This was some smooth drinking. The first thing that came to mind when this beer hit the tongue was the texture. This was certainly one creamy ale, with a frothy texture that fit somewhere between beer and milk. Actually, consider what carbonated milk would taste like. Now picture that, but with a beer taste and not a terrible milk taste. Okay, I can’t really describe it, but it’s better than it sounds. Besides the texture, Summer Solstice also has a slightly sweet and spicy taste to it that could easily carry this summer seasonal through the autumn months.

The only downside of this beer is that it’s surprisingly heavy for a summer seasonal. Usually summer beers are light and refreshing and although Summer Solstice would be tasty on a beach, I would have a hard time tackling more than two of these in a sitting.

Yet, as a beer to unwind with after a long day outside, a long day working or a long day doing nothing, Summer Solstice definitely fits the bill.

In my continuing quest to find the perfect beer for every occasion, I happened Henry Weinhard’s Private Reserve. Further research has taught me that Henry Weinhard’s has a history even older than my beloved Leinenkugel’s. I also learned that the beer is affectionately called Henry’s (as though you could call a beer anything not affectionate). Described as a Classic Northwest Lager on the label, I hoped the Private Reserve would be good for the situation I was in – namely, I wanted good beer, but I was pretty full for dinner. I had no desire for a Coors Light-esque beer, but don’t get me wrong, I know the Silver Bullet has its place. At $9.99 for a twelve pack, Henry’s was definitely worth a try.

When I popped the first bottle open and took a sip, I found a pretty tasty beer. It was definitely a light-tasting lager, with a nice, crisp hint of bitterness. Although I have no actual connection to the Northwest, specifically the state of Oregon that Henry’s comes from, I found myself really connecting with Private Reserve. It was a little too heavy for me to pick up any sort of drunk off of the beer, but I could definitely kick back on a rainy day, watch a classic film and drink these guys into oblivion.

Ordinarily, I avoid the stouts. Why, you ask? Well it’s not only because they come with ridiculous names like Karl Strauss 22nd Anniversary Vanilla Imperial Stout (you don’t exactly see bock or ambers like that). No, the real reason is that I consider beer a sort of refreshment. And being a refreshment, there should be something inherently refreshing about the beer. Sorry, stouts, you are not exactly refreshing, and it’s not just because some of your subtypes are Oatmeal, Chocolate and Coffee.

But refreshing or not, when I was offered some 22nd Anniversary Vanilla Imperial Stout, I had a hard time turning it down. Why? The vanilla. Like I said earlier, Chocolate Stout is a pretty common stout choice and I have no need for chocolate in my beer or otherwise. But vanilla is a completely different story. I claim Cream Soda as one of my favorite non-alcoholic beverages and the chance to drink that flavor combined with a high ABV percentage was too good to pass up. But first I had to get in the bottle.

You see, this beer was sealed and not just by a bottle cap. Enveloping the top of the bottle was about a whole candle’s worth of wax. And this was just some thin layer you could pop off, it was a thick encapsulation that literally had to be melted off. But once melted, the beer was actually pretty damn good. Again, I don’t love stout, but with a hint of vanilla, it turned into delicious. Plus, after all the work it took to open it, it had better taste good. The only trouble was that this wasn’t exactly your summer type of beer. I would have loved it in the winter, because it did kind of warm me up, but it wasn’t too warming.

So for a 22nd Anniversary, I think Karl Strauss did a damn good job. It took a beer that can sometimes be boring and can also sometimes be too heavy, added vanilla and turned it into something special. Not the best beer I’ve ever had, but maybe one of the best stouts.

Two summers ago, I went to Bridge’s Bar in Lake Nebagamon after years of drinking dirt cheap pitchers of Leinenkugel’s there. But upon arrival, I found that the Leinie’s was missing. It was just about the scariest moment of my life. As I wallowed in sorrow, a friend brought a pitcher of beer to me excitedly. “They have Spotted Cow,” he proclaimed. I was unswayed, but he poured me a glass and I drank it because it sounded better than the Bud Light that was also on tap. My disappointment disappeared and I vowed never to return to Wisconsin again without drinking some Spotted Cow.

Anyone from Wisconsin knows Spotted Cow. Born in the small New Glarus Brewing Co., the beer only leaves Wisconsin if a lucky traveler smuggles it out. This makes Spotted Cow even more prized than my precious Leinie’s.

But why is Spotted Cow so amazing? According to the website, “Naturally cloudy we allow the yeast to remain in the bottle to enhance fullness of flavors, which cannot be duplicated otherwise. Expect this ale to be fun, fruity and satisfying. You know you’re in Wisconsin when you see the Spotted Cow.”

Just reading that makes me wish I was back in Wisconsin right now, sipping on some Spotted Cow. Some beers are seasonal and some beers are situational, but Spotted cow is the type of beer I could pop open any day of the week and any time of the year and be happy. There’s a hint of sweetness that sets it apart from any bitter beers, but it is subtle and does not distract from it’s classic beery taste. It also has a bit of a creamy texture to it that is not often found in a beer. A plain ale, minus any flavor, might as well feel like carbonated water when it hits the mouth, but Spotted Cow lets your taste buds and your sense of touch know that something special is happening inside your mouth.

Plus, I can picture myself eating anything with this beer. Sure, I’ve only really tested it on pizza fries, cheese curds, burgers and bratwurst, but a beer like this can only enhance a meal, not harm it.

So although I was saddened at the loss of Leinie’s at Bridge’s, things weren’t all bad. I doubt Spotted Cow will ever fully replace Honey Weiss as my favorite beer, but it does a damn good job of trying.

It’s really not summer until you’ve had some Oberon. Sure, the weather may be warm, the grass may be green and the county may be forcing you to water your lawn only on odd-numbered days, but in truth, none of this matters until you get some Oberon in you. Now, you may be wondering, “What is Oberon?” If you turn to Wikipedia (the source of all knowledge), you will be lead to believe that Oberon is the king of the fairies. But this is just hogwash. In fact, Oberon is more likely to be a king of beers. No, not the king of beers…some brewery in St. Louis has that copyrighted.

Oberon is a wheat ale from Bell’s Brewery in Kalamazoo, Michigan. In its signature orange bottle with an ambivalent sun, it storms into liquor and grocery stores throughout Michigan and the surrounding states every summer. Although its origins are in wheat, this isn’t one of those sissy wheat beers that give you a sugar high, but a beer perfectly brewed to make those humid summer days worth it. And for those beautiful muggy nights, Oberon is just a delicious and alcoholic icing on the cake.

If you do get Oberon in your area, be sure to grab some before the season ends. Pop it open, close your eyes and take a sip. Yeah, that’s what summer tastes like.

So although it seems like summer is just winding down, it really hasn’t yet begun until you get yourself some Oberon.

French fries go great with a burger, breadsticks are delicious with a pepperoni pizza and mac and cheese is the perfect partner with some ribs, but beer is amazing with any meat. It is difficult (although not impossible) to be an unvegan without having a great taste for beer and as any real beer drinker knows, not all beers are created equal. In my world, there is Leinenkugel’s Honey Weiss and then there are all other beers.

This is not to say that all other beers are terrible, but they are simply not as good as Honey Weiss. Brewed in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, Leinenkugel’s (affectionately referred to as Leinie’s) is the third largest craft brewery in the country, after Sam Adams and Sierra Nevada. Just like those breweries, Leinie’s has many varieties that can be found all around the Midwest, such as Creamy Dark, Berry Weiss and seasonals. In fact, Leinie’s has even made its way out to LA, but only the Classic Amber and Sunset Wheat flavors. These beers are good, but they are no Honey Weiss.

Although Honey Weiss looks light to the eyes, it doesn’t taste like a light beer. There is a tiny bit of honey in each batch, but that certainly doesn’t make the beer sweet. In fact, it remains less sweet than most other wheat (weiss means wheat in German) beers. Yes, I’m looking at you, Hefeweizen. Some choose to drink this beer with a lemon, but this is wholly unnecessary. The beer is perfect as it is and is incredibly refreshing without falling into being a light beer.

Some day I hope to have enough clout to bring Honey Weiss over to the west. There are some great beers out here, but none as good as a Honey Weiss. Some beers are best drank at a bar, some are best after a long day of work and some are best to crack open for Sunday football. Leinie’s Honey Weiss is perfect for any of these occasions and every time I drink it, it brings me back to nights in the Northwoods, kicking back next to a lake and loving my life.