0.0

The beer

It tastes like almost nothing — and that ordinariness is the whole glass. Wet cardboard and a faint grain whisper arrive first; nothing you would call malt. Gone before you swallow: no hop, no malt, no aftertaste.

Ice cold if you drink it at all; warmth makes the emptiness louder. Clean in the sense of empty. The glass does not quarrel with you. It simply fails to arrive. Modest bitterness only in theory; in practice the sip is water with a sweet hint, then air. The cardboard note is the only character, and even that is faint — a whisper of grain, then nothing. Pour it cold, finish it fast, or choose something that still tastes like beer. Ordinary, clean, empty: wet cardboard, faint grain, water-sweet sip, then silence. No hop linger, no malt cushion, no aftertaste to argue with. The emptiness is the review. Open on how ordinary it is, and there is little else to say — which is the point. Wet cardboard, faint grain, water-sweet, then nothing. Empty glass, ordinary sip, nothing after. Clean emptiness — that is the glass.