The Belgian Sour. (Patreon)

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The following conversation took place in the kitchen of Ray Smuckles. Ray had just come in from looking at his new golf clubs in the sunlight, only to discover Téodor Orezscu sitting at the breakfast bar having a strange beer.

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RAY SMUCKLES: Daamn! Whatchu drinkin' there, T? “Kriek De Ranke”? What in heck's that?

TÉODOR OREZSCU: It's a Belgian sour ale, flavored slightly with cherries.

RAY: Huh! Like, a lambic, or somethin'?

TÉODOR: Yeah, but less like a children's soda than a lambic.

RAY: Whoah, man. Don't go talkin' mess 'bout lambics. Stuff be refreshin' when a dogg got his hot heat on.

TÉODOR: Want to try some? You'll see what I mean.

RAY: Sure, hossie! You know I'm always down for a swill.

TÉODOR: [Pours sample for Ray]

RAY: [Sips]

TÉODOR: That's quite a face you're making, there.

RAY: [Gently lets the ale flow back from his mouth into the sample glass, sets it on counter]

TÉODOR: A little different, isn't it?

RAY: Jesus, man. You sure you got the right thing?

TÉODOR: What was your first impression?

RAY: It ain't too nummy, man.

TÉODOR: How would you describe it?

RAY: It was like...like a lime, but without the good part of the lime. So, like a lemon.

TÉODOR: That's actually a pretty good description.

RAY: Actually, huh? Thanks, you wad.

TÉODOR: Hey, come on.

RAY: First you pour me a glass of ranky red intellectual lemon juice and then you stoop to honor my description of it? That is precisely the actions of a wad.

TÉODOR: Try it again. It can be an acquired taste.

RAY: No thanks, man. I ain't want to have to go and re-sit on the toilet all afternoon.

TÉODOR: Fine, more for me. This stuff isn't cheap, you know.

RAY: I hope you didn't pay more than nine cents for that.

TÉODOR: This 750 mil was fifteen dollars.

RAY: [Pauses] Get outta town, man. That's smaller than a Miller thirty-two, which is like a buck, and you can drink a Miller thirty-two without believin' you just made the strongest mistake of the day.

TÉODOR: This stuff is cask-aged and carefully blended from different vintages. There's more to it than your first impression. It's all done in very small batches.

RAY: [Thinks] Fifteen bucks, huh. Like, you can only get it at the beer nerd store?

TÉODOR: You don't see this kind of thing at Safeway, no.

RAY: Fifteen bucks...dang. “Hey, my beer cost fifteen bucks.” [thinks] I kinda like the sound of that. I like the sound of that! “Did your beer cost fifteen bucks, player? What? Only a dollar? That is some low scrizzle, tastes like my drizzle!”

TÉODOR: They have a couple of these that cost over twenty for the same size bottle.

RAY: Dang, man. Which beer nerd store you hittin' for 'em? Scolafuono's?

TÉODOR: No, they have them cold at Dimondi's Station.

RAY: You need a ride? I need me some twenty-dollar beers all of a sudden.

TÉODOR: Sure. If you don't like them, you can decant them into my glass and fill the bottle with Stellas or whatever you think is good.

RAY: Heh! That is bomb thinkin', T. Pound that nasty nastiness and let's get in the Caddy.

TÉODOR: Can I choose the music, since I turned you on to this stuff?

RAY: Sure, but nothin' lamer than Sting, OK? Like, no Sad Jim Flapso or whatever.

TÉODOR: There's no musician named Sad Jim Flapso.

RAY: Let's just listen to the satellite comedy channel, then. They got some raw Mexican comics on lately, they just tear us apart. They completely tear us a new one.

TÉODOR: OK, fine.

[They leave.]

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