Fordam Tavern Ale

I was a little confused when I got this beer. Initially, I wrongly assumed that the beer was from Fordham, NY. As I was putting it in the fridge to chill, I read the box. It went on and on about some sea captian who wanted to throw down a pint, blah, blah, blah...in Annapolis. So, as I was loading the bottles into the fridge, I checked the label for it's ABV. Nothing was listed, but I noticed that it said that it was brewed in...Dover, DE! I was confused. But not as much as after I had downed three or four of them and watched the clock tick down on the Eagles season. Did McNabb really throw that many passes at his receivers' ankles? Behind their backs? Did the receivers really miss the ones that McNabb threw right at their chests? Where was this mystery beer from, really? Was this beer the bad luck that brought the Eagles down?

Let me backtrack for a bit. Ok, I step out of the shower and am just about ready to watch the game with Jake, Steph, the whole crew. I quickly shave. Quickly. I don't know if you can do anything really quickly, as if quickly isn't quick enough, but I did. I hacked away the skin just under my nose, bleeding out maybe a pint a blood from a pinhole nick. Jake and Steph and the kids arive. I tried furiously to apply pressure, to no avail. The blood keeps coming. I greet them as I'm now giving up on tissue paper and grabbing for a towel. I'm trying to get appetizers ready, bleeding, checking to make sure the beer is cold, shaking hands, go Eagles, bleeding. I ask Jake, as if any asking needs to be done, if he wants a beer. He's looking at me like I walked out of a horror movie. We grab a beer, sit down.

The bleeding from under my nose stops just at the point when I also stop bleeding green, about my fourth beer. The Eagles season is toast, my kids are running around crying, tired, and acting like they're the ones who have had too much to drink. Jake and I ponder the beer. He's says the beer is pretty good. I think this beer is bad luck, from the Eagles losing, to my razor scrape bleeding like a slaughtered farm animal, to the mystery of where this beer is actually from.

But then I think of the price. I only bought a six-pack. It cost about $7. I try to do 7 times 4 in my head to get a figure for the case. I try again. I keep coming up blank. Then I realize that there is a calculator in the junk drawer, one on my cell phone, even one on the computer. I take out the calculator and plug in 7 x 4. It tells me 28. I'm not convinced. Next comes the cell phone, then the computer. They all tell me the same number, 28. So, 28 bucks it is.

For the price, Fordham Tavern Ale is pretty good. When I thought of all the bad luck throughout the day, I thought that this FTA was about just as good as some Budweiser Pisshole Select. But I made the mistake of letting my misfortunes ruin a decent beer, even blaming the beer at times.

All in all, The Fordham Tavern Ale was pretty good, considering the price, and despite the fact that I couldn't make out where this beer actually was produced. I don't actually care if a beer comes from Fordham, Ny, Annapolis, MD, or Dover, DE as long as it tastes good. And it did. And for 28 dollars a case, it tasted damn good. Bang for the buck, that's what matters. There are plenty of beers at that price point that I gladly skip over and gladly pay up to the next ten dollar range. This Fordham mystery beer I'll do again. Just not when the Eagles are in the NFC championship game.

3 stars, maybe 3.5 considering the price point.