Beer Review: Steel Reserve — Yeah boyyyyy!!!
The other night I sat down to watch the Comedy Central roast of Flavor Flav, and cracked me open a 40 of Steel Reserve. Somehow the perception shift induced by malt liquor renders Flava more normal and understandable. At the first sip, you’re still approximately sober, and Flava appears (correctly) to be from Mars. About halfway down, he starts making more sense, and so by the time you’re nearing the bottom of the bottle, it looks to you like you’re watching George Plimpton read from the Economist. Once you finish off the last foamy disgusting swig, you’re officially a producer on three tracks on the latest Ol Dirty Bastard album.
Part three in my tony-nominated series of reviews, Beers Whose Artwork Can Kick Your Ass, Steel Reserve is yet another malt liquor beer that I (a pencil-necked balding geek who could get sunburnt from a dashboard light) have absolutely no business drinking. And yet, it wasn’t bad. If drinking Schlitz is like punching yourself in the face with a cinder block, Steel Reserve is like slugging yourself in the stomach with a can of pumpkin pie mix. (And of course Miller Lite is like a weak slap to the face with an envelope of petunia seeds.) It didn’t have the sharp skunkiness or odd medicine-y taste that the really bad malt liquors have in that first whiff — served sufficiently cold, Steel Reserve will admirably serve your purposes if your purposes are funded at less than the 3 dollar level.
I realized in writing this review that I should research why the hell there’s a “211? on the label, and discovered it’s the medieval symbol for “steel”. There, someone can now use this blog as a book report. While you’re at it, include this little nugget (and remember to cite wikipedia): “Due to the high alcohol content and low price, Steel Reserve is widely consumed by alcoholic homeless people.” Which brings into stark relief for me who the target audience is for my set of reviews on Frosty Goodness. Unfortunately Steel Reserve is banned in parts of Seattle for this reason (drunken homeless crime, not my posts on this website). So I heartily recommend this El Cheapo beer, and urge you to try it before it is inevitably banned by your metropolitan area. 911 might be a joke, but 211 makes for one wild night with five-foot-three former rappers…