8:13 AM
After this post, the blog will be on hiatus. I’m hoping to get back to it for Chirstmas in July. If you want me to let you know when I return to beer, shoot me an email at [email protected] and I’ll personally drop you a link when the next post goes up. Thanks for reading and for understanding.
Before going any further, here’s a trigger warning for anyone who needs it: This post deals with the death of a pet. Purrl is gone and I’m framing this post around a beer I picked up nearly seven years ago, Great Lakes’ Imperial Oyster Stout.
Imperial Oyster’s nose is intriguing. There’s chocolate, salt, coffee, caramel, and red wine. It’s silky, if that makes any sort of sense. Floral, almost. I think it’s wonderful and I know Purrl would’ve loved it.
She came into our lives when Michelle and I were still kids in college. I remember the day Michelle smuggled her into the apartment (pets weren’t allowed, per the lease) and placed her on the bed (a mattress on the floor–we were college kids, like I said). She was so small and sweet, the orange fur on her face fiery. I typically wake up before Michelle and for the first year of Purrl’s life I had to lay still in bed because if she knew I was up she’d pounce on me from her spot on the dresser. She shared twelve and half years with us.
Purrl’s part of the blog’s DNA. She was my counterpart and my best friend. She was everywhere in our house, always wanting to be with us. Háma and Henrietta largely like to be by themselves, but Purrl was wherever we were. Her absence is gut-wrenching. I need space from the blog for some time to figure out how to do it without her. She was my best friend.
She moved across the state with us. She went on more than a few roadtrips when she was younger. She went hiking, made her own place in our only mortgaged home, and took immediately to our son when we brought him home from the hospital. She was wild to everyone who wasn’t us, but would melt with love in our arms. Purrl was part of us; Michelle and I are both lost without her.
She died yesterday morning, sometime after Michelle got up for a moment to see her at quarter of six and when I rolled out of bed at eight. Last week she was diagnosed with large cell lymphoma. She went through a single round of chemo (her second was scheduled for tomorrow) but her time came before we were ready for it. My parents and Michelle’s parents and brother came to say goodbye to her on Saturday (Michelle’s sister was here on Thursday). After they’d left, she came out of the suite we’d made for her and jumped up on the couch to snuggle against me. That was her saying goodbye. We weren’t ready, but she was.
My first swig of the stout is wonderful. It’s dark chocolate and coffee, with a savoriness and saltiness from the oysters (and, well, salt). It’s complex and bracing, a perfect invigorating beer for my broken heart. There’s some black licorice lurking in there that lingers with the oysters into the warming finish.
The mouthfeel is velvety. Creamy. Exactly what I want from an oyster beer (this is only the second one I’ve had–it’s a style I wish more brewers would embrace).
The beer’s a 10/10. That’s easy. Great Lakes knows how to brew with oysters. I’m glad I had this stashed away to bring me some light in this terrible time.
Goodbye Purrl girl. I love you. I’ll see you on the other side. Thanks for getting it all ready for us. Tell Pip and Maddie I love them and hope they’re well.
