Well now. This was a rollercoaster ride.

1) Kegs of Twisted Hop Pils arrive at work, and the people rejoice — I’ve said before that this stuff is a frontrunner candidate for All-Time All-Staff Favourite at work. 2) The Overboss announces his plan to run this through the Hopinator, overlooking at opportunity to just stick it on on a Friday night and likely blam through it in delicious short order — and the people get apprehensive. 3) It goes on, with the Hopinator loaded with Hallertau hops, and I try it shortly after. I certainly didn’t hate it, maybe because it reminded me of my beloved ‘Minimus’. Still, it seemed like it just would’ve been better as-is. Why mess with a Good Thing, especially with the Good Thing is that damn good?

4) I try it again the next day. Which turns out to be enough time for the hops to really stew into the beer. And everything goes to hell, changing my mind about all the “it’s not great but” slightly-positive aspects. Instead, it’s now as if someone has presented you with a tea cosy made from the skin of your dead cat. It just reminds you of the cat, and makes you miss them — and, if push really came to absolute shove, you’d have thought there’d be better uses for a catskin, anyway.

I wondered if something lighter would’ve worked better (maybe white grapes, or the Sauvin hop itself?), but I think anything would have soon over-stewed and presented its own version of the Catskin Problem. Basically, taking a beer that is so remarkable and wonderful and lovely simply because it is such a deft touch of a thing and then ramming it full of some superfluous flavour is simply pants on head retarded.

5) A week later, the next keg goes on, unmolested — and the people rejoice once more. Imagine… imagine if someone resurrected your dead cat. And then, they presented them to you in the morning, so you were still all groggy and confused, and initially assumed that you were just dreaming. But, no… there it is, just like you remember.