BrewDogging #12; Atlantic IPA

Saturday involved a long crawl on the sherbert with friends in Birmingham. So, what better way to round out the day than beer and pizza? The latter was a cheese-smeared, mozzarella-slotted mushroom melange. The former - well, I've always thought that IPA goes well with pizza. So I had no qualms about cracking open a bottle of BrewDog Atlantic IPA.

Why this beer? Was it for the nose of oak, tobacco and dark orange? For the caramel palate warmed by alcohol and not overtaken by the dry and dusty hops? For the kick of chugging something weighing in at 8.5% at the end of the day? For revelling in the backstory of a beer brewed to a traditional recipe, aged at sea, bottled with a hand-printed label? For the kick of taking down a bottle that cost me nine quid?

Nope. I wanted Atlantic because it was there. After all, what's the point of wanting an IPA, having an IPA in the cellar and not drinking it just because you're half-pished and thinking that such 'rare' beers ought to be sipped and cogitated over?

It's beer. In the case of Atlantic, it's a well-restrained, not-life-changing, enjoy-the-moment beer. Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop once in a while - and actually drink the good shit in the cellar - you might miss it.