Now this is a story all about how my tongue got flipped—turned upside down. And I'd like to take a minute to explain some fails, and tell you why not to buy a beer called the Fresh Prince of Ales. In southeast Salem, Ore., born and made, in the hop yards Gilgamesh's brewers must've spent a couple days: pickin' on vines, grabbin' up cones and tossin' some Centennials into the gruel. But a couple of flavors show up that are no good, and make things not taste like they should. I took one big whiff of my glass, got scared and thought, "Eww, this smells like dirty soap would." Gilgamesh put the beer out at the beginning of September, which is a month earlier than better fresh-hop beers appear. If anything, I could say this fresh-hop beer was kegged while still rare, but thought, "Nah, just calling it skunky is fair." It tastes thick and old, not freshly bitter but spoiled. I pushed aside my glass long before it ended, and yelled to the barkeep, “Yo homes—not recommended.”