Hear’n, my chillens and younguns, and lissen to the tell of the olden days when Anhesuserus Buschex and Milleradactyl roamed the vasty plains, and fearfits to flavor wereda norm, and no one brewed with flowers of hoppiness or dark malts or wild yeasts, and the ancient secrets were foresaken and near lost. The brew was all light and no tasty and had to be dranken icy icy icy chill’d or it couldna be dranken at all, but some knew better, and they kept the flame lit in the dark caves and brewed the goodly stuff in their homes and basements and garages and shared some with their neighbors who learned that beer could have taste. Soon after, if you looka’d in the dark corners and the bottomest of shelves, you’da find some new brews made like in the ancient times by those that knewda secrets, and wouldna let them die.
Lagers and Pilsners were all the Anhesuserus Buschex and Milleradactyl made, so when the goodly stuff returned, we ne’er drank the Pilsners and the Lagers, but the Anhesuserus Buschex and Milleradactyl made the Lagers and the Pilsners badly, so now we should try them ag’in. On the heatniest of the summer afternoons, when the burnt wood is made to glow again and the burgers sizzle and the franks splitten and blacken, a good lager will quench the thirst. Lagers are generally German, but the Englishman Samuel Smith makes a good one, probably ’cause the English beat the Germans in two world wars and one world cup, crisp, light, perfect for a summer day, 7/10.