Therefore, while I'm sure St. Paddy's has gone the way of Cinco de Mayo (which has nothing to do with Mexican Independence), it's also still an excellent excuse to celebrate. One of the "greatest" traditions in the States is the consumption of "green beer". Nothing gets my taste buds more horny than the thought of flavorless, low-calorie lager infused with food coloring.*

*denotes sarcasm

Rather than bow to the sour and insipid regurgitation of a dirty tap, celebrate with something slightly more traditional:

Stout: a term used in England and Ireland to denote "strong" beer as far back as the 17th century, stout has come to generally mean a dark beer whose color is derived from the use of dark roasted malt in the brewing process. While there are Oatmeal Stouts, Imperial Stouts, Chocolate Stouts, Coffee Stouts, Milk Stouts, and even Oyster Stouts (I'm not ready for that one yet), the Dry Irish Stout is what many hoist around the world on St. Patrick's Day. The most popular example is- of course- Guinness, but Murphy's and Beamish also make good examples of Irish Stout. Many (especially the neon-green beer drinking crowd) are put off by the "heaviness" of a stout, and- yes- the name suggests as such. However, 12 ounces of Guinness Draught (the stuff you get out the tap or in the cans with the weird device in them) only have 4.0% alcohol by volume, 125 calories, and 10 carbs. Compare to your green Bud Light, which has 4.2% ABV, 95 calories, and 6.6 carbs (source: realbeer.com). You could make up the difference with just one surly bar fight flurry of punches, and you'd have your wits about you by .2% alcohol, all while drinking something that has taste and pairs a hell of a lot better with your lamb stew or (not surprisingly) beef n' Guinness pie.

Irish Whiskey: Somewhere along the line, the term whiskey came out of the old Gaelic phrase "uisce beatha", which translates as "water of life". So, next time Mom is giving you grief about how drinking is bad for you, simply explain that a bunch of old dead people referred to it as a necessity for living. "Then why are they dead?" Mom says. Dang, she always wins. Anyway, Irish Whiskey is an incredibly smooth and clean-drinking whiskey (or "whisky", but not spelled that way in Ireland), due much to triple-distillation. Not as smoky as Scotch; not as sweet as Bourbon or Tennessee Whiskey, but really darn good, and life-giving (disclaimer: Suburban Wino Industries makes no claims to be an authority on human health). Solid, easy-to-find examples include Bushmills, Jameson, and Tullamore Dew. The single-malt stuff is a little more elusive, but like scotch, it's more complex, and may actually be the "water of life".

Wine: Yes, I can already hear Kyle Broflovski's mother screaming, "what, WHAT, WHAAAAAAAT?!!" Hang on. Bear with me. You can drink wine on St. Paddy's, and this especially works if you're hung up on the whole "green" thing.

Option 1: As mentioned earlier, Vinho Verde is a Portuguese still white wine that literally translates to "green wine". While the name alludes to the wine's freshness and youth (as opposed to the color, which is almost clear in many cases), hey, this is a wine blog, so I had to take a crack at it.

Option 2: Perhaps more half-baked than the Option 1 argument, but here it goes anyway. Look for organic wines, organically-farmed wines, or wines from sustainable or biodynamic vineyards (which don't necessarily qualify as "certified organic", but that's another post). Anyhoo, the overused buzzword for good-for-the-environment is "green", so...well, there you go. And while these wines aren't required to say anything on the label, many probably do, as it is fashionable marketing these days. No longer total crap, there are many quality producers these days. Ask your local trusty wine shop for recommendations, and remind them that if you're making a sacrifice for the environment, then you don't need the dusty organic wine that they brought in on a whim and now can't sell. Another option is to check out different wineries' websites. They'll be preaching all this stuff if they want to sell more.

So, surely you're more enlightened and ready to take your March 17th irresponsibility to new heights (dare I say, responsible irresponsibility if going the sustainable/organic/biodynamic route). As for the bright green beer? The only things that should be that color are lime jello and antifreeze, and neither are safe for consumption.

"Things do not pass for what they are, but for what they seem. Most things are judged by their jackets." -Baltasar Gracián

Oh, Baltasar! You never cease to speak so truly. Maybe that's why we all know and love you...

...okay, I have no idea who this guy is. But, he has a wikipedia page, so he must've been of some notoriety. Looks like you and I have learned some excessively obscure trivia today.

But the quote is true: ideally, we should all judge a product on what it is, not in how it is presented to us. But, as with wine, the labels and packaging of beer so often determine our purchasing habits. Perception is often reality, and a clever or appealing wardrobe can often suggest a product of equal ilk. Hey, there's a lot of competition on those shelves. Can't blame anyone for trying to get his product stick out.

If the can alone is to be the only metric by which we measure our beers, then New York's Butternuts Brewery's Farmhouse Ale lineup is clearly the greatest brew around. "Porkslap Ale"?! ...c'mon, that is beyond solid-gold. Note to marketeers: you put two jovial pigs belly-bumping on your product, and I will buy it. Food, drink, cars, baby clothes, fine furnishings...it matters not.

Yet, as this is a consumption-centric blog, I guess we'll have to try the product within said can. And, as a side-note, I do appreciate folks putting their craft beers in cans. Oskar Blues seems to be the recent pioneer, and more should put aside the "cheapness" stigma of the can and go for it (perhaps directly against the whole "perception is reality" argument). But, anyone who knows beer understands that a can keeps damaging light out, and it keeps the product fresher, so the perception of the knowledgeable beer-drinker may be positive. As a good ol' boy friend once- so adamantly- exclaimed, "son, you need to put that beer back in the can where it was born."

With all that said, on to the good stuff...

Porkslap Pale Ale: Perhaps I'm viewing this beer through hog-colored glasses, but I think it's more than the overwhelmingly-awesome hype created by the can. A mild, drinkable Pale Ale with good hop character. However, the pleasant bitterness of the hops- which can often be the focus of Pale Ale- took a backseat to a nice sweet, malty, caramel flavor. This beer is almost creamy, and the relatively-low 4.3% ABV makes it an easy drinkin' companion. I poured one into a glass and drank one out of the can. Perhaps it was novelty. Maybe it was the power of the leaping pigs on the aluminum shell. Whatever the case, this one worked the most magic straight up from whence it came. Forget the glass and throw a six-pack in the cooler when you want to drink classy at the tailgate...without the unpleasant affect of "looking classy". Give me a trotter up high, Porkslap.

Snapperhead IPA: When you want to trick judgmental friends, go with the Snapperhead. Unsuspecting teetotalers will be fooled by the bright yellow can. "Man, that guy sure does love his Country Time Lemonade!" But you know what's up. Just make sure the kids don't accidentally get into the "lemonade"; it really does look like a soft drink can.

Good malty character, like the Porkslap, but with a much-more prominent backbone of citrusy, grapefruit-bitter hops. IPAs (short for "India Pale Ale") were originally crafted to weather the long sea voyage from England to the rest of the British Empire (India being one of the imperialist states), so a hefty dose of hops was needed to preserve the beer. In addition, the higher alcohol helped on the journey. At 6.3%, the Snapperhead fits the bill. Fortunately, this brew has a touch of malty sweetness to balance out the bitterness. Smoother than many British and American IPAs, but not without the signature bite. "Snapperhead", indeed.

Moo Thunder Stout: I'm stout-crazy. Blame it on the red beard, but for my money, beer perfection doesn't stray far from a properly-poured pint of Guinness. That being said, I'm always eager to try a great new dark beer. The Moo Thunder, while its namesake makes me giggle at the perhaps poorly-veiled reference to bovine flatulence, doesn't really do it for me. While the virtues of a nice, creamy mouthfeel, coffee/roasted aromas, and a dryness akin to a good Irish Stout offer hope, the finish makes me "have a cow", as in "don't have a cow". Too late. I'm having one.

Why? The finish on this beer- and I can't think of any way to mince words- tastes like an ashtray. Cigar and cigarette ash. Have I ever tasted an ashtray? Yes, and make sure your friends don't ever mistake your can of Mountain Dew for a cigarette-butt depository. Jerks. Anyway, it's just a very unpleasant and unsettling finish. I don't know...maybe a cigar smoker would like this beer with a stogie.

And- for the record- I say all this as a past smoker, just so you don't think I'm one of those annoying "Truth" mongers.

All a recipe for a quiet evening on New Year's Eve. Maybe a sip of Champagne, a kiss at midnight, and in the bed soon after.

Okay...harmless enough. Started the evening with dessert: a Murphy's Irish Stout float, with a scoop of vanila ice cream dropped into the murky delight. I'd seen this in the past, on the menu at a local pub (The Grange Public House), and most recently HERE on Dale Cruse's tidy Boston Wine/Food/What-Have-You blog, Drinks Are On Me. I challenged the notion of ruining a perfectly good stout with ice cream, but at prodding from multiple sources, I went for it. The verdict? Didn't like it, but not for the reason you may think. I can totally see the appeal. But, if you have a colorful history of college nights soaked with Irish Car Bombs, this tastes exactly like sipping something that you're predisposed to slamming down your gullet as quickly as possible. If you haven't burnt yourself out on the boilermaker of the green-eyed and red-bearded, then you will probably be all over this. I'd like to try it again with a chocolate or oatmeal stout.

No big deal. One drink. I'll be up at 6 AM doing jumping jacks-

-phone rings. "C'mon over! Casino games," say the neighbors. Okay, maybe 7 AM jumping jacks.