Number 96 and the Taste of Karma

You order one up, you drink one down – 96 pints of beer at the bar.

I want to give you some background on number 96. Consider this portion my pre-ramble if you will. Yes, I said pre-ramble, not pre-amble. I make up words. It’s cool though; English is an evolving language. Skip the next couple paragraph though  if such details don’t matter.

Earlier in the day, I had gone to Trader Joe’s and loaded up on like $20 worth of chocolate and made a nice sweet spread for me and my co-workers. It was Friday, I dig chocolate and I totally believe it’s nice to be nice. I was feeling great about my good deed all day. Later that day, I swooned when karma french-kissed me hard – a friend invited me to the Catawba and it was the Catawba Brewery/French Broad Chocolate pairing afternoon – a future post perhaps.

Now, the stage is set – a little too much chocolate, a little too much beer and yet still so thirsty…I wandered around Biltmore Village for a bit. And then, a fancy beacon, a ritzy magnet draws me in.  I pull open the doors of the Bohemian Hotel and make my way to the Red Stag and take a seat at the bar. Now, for those of you that don’t know me, I am a total jeans and t-shirt sort of girl  and that particular day I was in worn out, bleach-stained chucks too. So, while it could be argued that I didn’t quite fit in, I totally did. The staff was super friendly and the early evening patrons were pretty mellow. I dig the dark rich colors of the joint.

Anyway, I ordered a pint of Hi-Wire Brewery‘s Hi-Pitch IPA.  Hmmm, I think I should say here that I’m very partial to Hi-Wire. I love everything they have going on. So, while maybe I should have ventured out and off my IPA kick, I ordered it and, of course, loved it. Big, fat, hoppy taste . Floral, citrusy and lovely but with a sort of smokey undertone. It’s a dream really.

My dream is momentarily disrupted when I’m asked/told to move as they are photographing food displays and I’m like a smiling jack-o-lantern in their shots. No big deal. Hi-Pitch still tastes just as special no matter where I drink it. Karma swoops in for sweet seconds when I sit by a couple here from Florida. She hates beer and he “kind of” likes it. Balance. I help them get the lay of the land here. I yap about places they should check out, stuff they might dig and, as a thank you, they buy me another Hi-Pitch. And yet again, I do think the second one was even more delicious.