For today's exercise in self-harm, I'll be reviewing Milwaukee's Best Ice. I don't know if I can handle the Beast, but I'm doing my best, sir.
Miller Brewing Company's Milwaukee's Best Ice
American Adjunct Lager - 5.9% ABV
Purchased at: Weber Market
From: Probably brewed in Miller's plant in Trenton, OH.
My stomach lurches as I stare down the can that sits in front of me. Ok...I'll stop pussyfooting around this. Just cracked this tallboy open, and my curiosity is getting the best of me. I'll take a preliminary smell.
Oh no. That was a mistake. It smells like a jar of moldy olives mixed with a dirty cigarette ashtray. M-maybe it's just the can. I'll pour it into my pint glass and give it an honest chance.
It's clear - very clear - actually, I'm not sure I just poured a liquid into this glass. It's pale yellow with a fizzy white head, which dissolves quickly. How about a real aroma test? I SAID, "How about a real aroma test?" No? To my chagrin, shouting at the glass of beer doesn't result in any aroma. I get, maybe, light hops and light malts.
Confidence level: high
First impression: it's not as terrible as expected. Wait, no, no - scratch that. It totally is. When the beer, or whatever this industrial waste is, hits your palate you get almost nothing but a mouth full of some liquid. It's relatively flavorless, but don't worry - it goes downhill from there. A pinch of malts roll over the tongue next, which isn't the disgusting part. It's the wave of chemical flavors that dominate the palate, especially through the finish. Also, it's mildly astringent, but that's hard to notice over the stomach-churning effect this beer has on the human body.
The first half isn't bad - it's not good - it's a relatively flavorless alcoholic beverage. It's the bath of off-flavors that define this beer that make it so gross. I almost expect my face to melt off, Indiana Jones style after this hits my lips - it's like an acid. (And just so we're clear, yes, I know that it was Major Toht's face - and the other Nazis' - that melted off at the end of Indiana Jones, not Indy's.)
Confidence level: low
I'm going to power through this. It is my mission, nay - duty, as an American man and avid beer drinker to finish this glass, and I will. Give me some time.
5 minutes later:
Confidence level: defeated, and emasculated.
No way. This beer just plain sucks.
Hop/malt balance: 1/4
Mouth feel: 2/3
In the fridge: Stone's Lucky Bastard Ale