I am by no means a keen beer drinker.
At midnight in Shoreditch though, I am far more keen to drink beer than paying to get into a crowded club and be forced to, god forbid, dance.
So rather than saving BrewDog for my date the next day (and someone who was likely to be more impressed with the chosen venue), me and Crazy Canadian headed over for that ever famous last one drink. As two women both in an intense love affair with wine, we were really the wrong audience for this place.
At the bar I spotted a guide for wine drinkers to choose the right beer for them as they categorically don't serve anything other than beer. Although that is rather sweet, I still was suspicious. Which the bartender could probably tell as he approached me the same way you would approach a kid refusing to enter the dentist's practice. In other words, re assuring, calm and willing to promise me a new Barbie if I was a good girl and at least tried not to bite the dentist. That's good service for you.
He refused to call them girlie beers. But we both knew that's what they were. These fruit cake flavoured fizzy samples of all variety colours and bubbliness that he provided me with. And they were actually quite nice. In a girlie beer sort of way.
I won't be attacking the Guinness anytime soon - but I can get on board with more girlie beers. If they're pink.
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| Girlie Beers. |
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