A Wonderful “Beer & Food Pairing” Failure

I went on a walk through the nice neighborhoods (not my trailer park neighborhood) and nice parks today to see the fall colors in the trees and feel that fall crispness on my skin. I hadn’t been on a walk in a long time, and I was glad to see that the colors were just starting to change. The sunniest parts of the trees were growing awash in bright yellow and only a few of the more delicate bushes had already turned a deep, burnt red. There’s no greater feeling than witnessing the start of something beautiful and knowing you’re not too late.

And having a simple dinner plan on the ready for my return made me almost giddy over the changing seasons. My mind was getting a bit carried away. I was thinking up strange dishes that would evolve with the colors of the leaves. The pea green summer leaves turning yellow made me think of pesto spaghetti with roasted yellow squash or green curry drizzled over grilled yellow bell peppers. Mmmm. And for dessert, lemon bars with dyed green coconut shavings.

After my twentieth-odd snap of a turning tree, I realized that fall is like a crack season. I just get happy. Happy. Writing that word is akin to eating an over-sugared donut, if there is such a thing. But it’s true. During summer, I’m worried about spending time outdoors and doing things like climbing steep mountains and coasting down the rapids–things I’m not too interested in attempting. Spring is okay. Bunnies multiply, tiny buds pop out of twigs. Nothing too dramatic happens. And winter can be pure drudgery. But fall. Ah, fall. The crack season.

So I returned home to commence cooking. Here are my recipes:

Rice Cooked in Chicken Stock:

1 cup brown rice

2 cups water

1/2 Tbsp olive oil

1 chicken bouillon cube

Follow package instructions.

Garlic and Herb-Encrusted Tilapia:

2 thawed tilapia filets

dusting of garlic and herb seasoning

dash of olive oil

Follow package instructions.


Sounds pretty delicious, huh? haha Those recipes are such jokes!

I paired my unabashedly processed/packaged/freezed dish with a home-brewed hefeweizen. Sadly, a nasty, dueling marriage resulted. The fish was flavorless and watery, but the rice was pretty tasty and well-cooked. It had a rich, well-seasoned flavor. Unfortunately, the delectable taste of the rice was obliterated by the harsh initial bite of our experimental brew. Its bubblegum taste and thin, slick feel overtook the capacities of my tongue and made me lunge for more rice, which drove me to eat about four cups of it. And I didn’t even feel stuffed! Now that’s the power of brown rice!

So, although, all-in-all, it sounds like it was a complete disaster, I felt well-plumped and nourished for the evening. I hadn’t gone out to eat. I had a lean protein. I had cooked real hard rice. And the beer was alright on its own. The flavor died off after a few sips, and one could trick oneself into thinking they were drinking an over-aged Leffe Blond. In my mind, the evening was a success because I had spent no money that day (September’s looking like a complete loss right now) and it’s fall. ‘Nuff said.