We are in town for camping supplies, on the hunt for important things like a stove and pots and pans and hiking shoes, preferably not at bend-over-please prices, and it seems the sun might actually come out to play, along with Mr. Penguin and Mr. Beaver.
Happiness, because it’s also lunchtime, and lucky for us, the gastropub we wander into for a chicken Caesar wrap also serves Beagle Beer.
When in Rome, only here, it’s the Beagle Channel, so pour us a pint of this end of the world brew, please.
Unfortunately for us, this craft beer tastes worse than its mass-produced cohorts, flavor dull, shallow, and, a common thread we find with most of these South American beers, entirely too watery.
It’s as if people here find Coors-like flavors too strong and dilute it down, half beer, half water, total shite.
Graham barely manages to guzzle the brew down, and as a testament to its nasty nastiness, doesn’t even entertain the thought of a second.
Oh, Beagle Beer, you disappoint.