When I told my friend Peter that I was drinking a shandy the other day, I think he wasn’t sure weather to question my man card or call poison control on my behalf. For those of you who don’t know, the dictionary defines it as such:
shan·dy
ˈSHandē/
noun
beer mixed with a nonalcoholic drink (typically lemonade)
Ok, so now that that’s outta the way, let’s talk shandy. The thing was just ok. I could see how it would be refreshing if I was standing in the sun on Giligan’s island with Ginger, but for most other circumstances the stuff is just way too sweet for me and not beer-ey enough. If you really, really like sweet, you might be into this, but for someone buying something expecting something with a little more beer bite to it you will probably be let down. I won’t give it a single chest, because it’s not like the stuff tasted putrid or anything, but it just didn’t float my boat. I might buy it again, just to have some stock on the shelves for guests that I know are into the sweet stuff. But the truth is, I only invite people over with intelligently developed flavor pallets. Just kidding, I really have no friends. Won’t you please come over and hang out with me? Can I interest you in this fine shandy? Haha…joking, joking…I won’t hold it against you if you do like this. For your taste buds are probably more developed than my cro-magnon man taste buds. $6.99
BTW, for anyone wondering about this Peter character, see below. He’s single ladies! And he doesn’t like shandies either! Did I mention he’s single?
