A Brew Review: Killadelphia

Hey readers, listen to your uncle Bits and give a warm welcome to Will Sleep With Your Ex-Girlfriend as he spins this harrowing tale of hop(e)s crushed.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I was relieved a little while back, despite the split that temporarily took Yards away from us (but gave us Philadelphia Brewing Company, for which I am thankful), to hear that Yards was brewing again and that the currently bare shelves would once again be stocked with a selection of their heady brews. You can imagine the look on my face when I saw the Yards Pale Ale tap suddenly reappear at work last weekend.

What you couldn't possibly imagine is the horror that followed.

I ordered one as my shift beer, having just worked relatively hard for a Saturday morning and feeling like reminiscing over a familiar brew. What greeted me was only somewhat familiar.

A tall pint glass spilling over with a pale yellowish liquid greeted my eyes. My nose recognized a familiar bouquet, but something seemed amiss. I figured at this point that I had just forgotten an old standby due to it's recent absence.

First sip - strong attack: bitter like an ale should be, but not aggressively so. Balance. Expected. Then…

NOTHING.

A moment after it started, it was all over. The taste simply died in my mouth. I didn't order water. Shef, did I order water? MY MOUTH IS WET, BUT I CAN'T TELL IF THERE'S ANYTHING IN IT!

A second sip had remarkably similar results.

Whatever you did to your pale ale, I would kindly ask that you undo it. You took a perfectly good thing and…and…well, you killed it. In my mouth. YOU KILLED IT.

Considering this, and the fact that Limp Bizkit is actually reuniting and recording a new album, I would not be the least bit surprised if the entire universe decides to euthanize itself some time in the near future. Consider yourselves warned.

And for you, brewers of the "new Yards"…you will be the catalyst.

Go straight to hell. Do not pass "Go". Do not collect $200.