Welcome back to FTW’s Beverage of the Week series. Here, we mostly chronicle and review beers, but happily expand that scope to any beverage that pairs well with sports. Yes, even cookie dough whiskey.
I’m already on board with High Noon’s vodka-soda mixers. I came into the Pool Pack expecting a hard seltzer wannabe but instead got the Transformers to White Claw’s inferior GoBots.
This made me unreasonably excited for the company’s next mix pack, a fall(ish)-themed combination of flavors aimed at stocked coolers in parking lots across North America. High Noon’s Tailgate pack follows the brand standard; eight cans and four flavors for roughly $15, depending on where you live. Those flavors:
- Black cherry
- Pear
- Cranberry
- Grapefruit
Eclectic! I’m not sure I’d associate 75 percent of those flavors with grills and cornhole, but I appreciate the effort. And I’m gonna do some work to drink at least a couple of them in the proper environment.
This week, I ventured out from Madison to what used to be Miller Park to partake in the best tailgating scene in baseball. Even better, I had the chance to watch the nihilistic nightmare for which I’ve been rooting since I was six years old (the Pittsburgh Pirates) and the local team who somehow knew the exact expiration date of Josh Hader’s pitching abilities (19.06 ERA, 3.53 WHIP since being traded from Milwaukee to San Diego).
Complicating matters was my 4-year-old daughter, who was significantly more interested in the escalators at the stadium than the game itself and had entirely too many questions about port-a-potties. It was just the two of us that day, a bonding moment where we could discuss the consequence of bad decisions (my three decades watching the Buccos mostly vomit off the side of the boat, not writing these articles).
It also led to roughly 300 questions per minute. This ensured that:
a) I very much needed a drink.
b) I couldn’t drink too much.
That made the 4.5 percent ABV High Noons a worthy selection for a day game. Would they stand up to the 85 degree heat and a sun-baked parking lot? Would they ease the pain of hearing 35 straight jokes whose punchlines are “Mr. Poopyhead?” Well, let’s find out.