| rev:text
| - My experience at East End was a pretty lame one, though to no fault of the brewery. I was the kind of sick that typically involves a deathbed and a Cholera diagnosis, so while everyone else drank deliciously hand-crafted brew, I crouched against the brick wall, in a dark corner of the brewery behind a bucket of coasters and naked Christmas tree, clinging to a sample of their Ginger-ale. Pretty sure it was the plague, because anything less and you know I'd have been all up on those taps.
So basically, this is going to be the lamest review of a brewery in the history of history, as I had only two sips of beer and then promptly went back to hunching over in my dark, concrete corner with a sample glass of ginger-y goodness, because OF COURSE I would get super sick for the first time in years on the day of our fateful road trip to Pittsburgh, that was taken with the purpose of spending time with old friends and drinking lots (LOTS!!!) of beer. Of.F*cking.Course.
Aaanyway, blah, blah, blah, my single sips of their winter white and Nunkin (no pumpkin) seasonals were dreamy and didn't make me barf at all--not one little bit. But the real star, and I know you guys are going to laugh, is that freakin' ginger-ale. OhMahGah it's so good! Seriously, just smell it. It's the most potent ginger scent outside of eating a bushel's worth of ginger root and puking it up so hard it comes out your nose. What? No. I mean, that's totally never happened to me... not with ginger at least (saganaki is a different story). But back to that ginger-ale: it's unreal. And luckily, exactly what I needed to fend off the urge to purge from my mystery illness (please not morning sickness. please not morning sickness. please not morning sickness.).
And while I loved my ginger-y ale and did end up leaving with a growler of it, the process to get said growler and aforementioned samples was pretty f*cking annoying and made even worse that there's not a single place to sit so because I couldn't bring my sick, sad self to even stand up straight I had to keep myself from yakking all over their merch by squatting in a dark, cave-like area as if I were some 21st century Smeagol. There was only one man working at 4pm on a Friday and a ridiculously long line wrapping around the register, merch and tasting area. The lone worker was filling growlers, answering questions, checking IDs, explaining crazy-ass Amish liquor laws, providing a sample of everything to everyone and running the register, which consisted of an iPad, and I'm not sure how familiar you are with businesses who use iPads as registers, but it's slow as f*ck, they have to type in every number and is a great way to really hold up an already mile-long line.... Ain't nobody got time for that! It's Friday f*cking night, scrape up a second employee and get the show on the road.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)