Description
My life on the moisture farms isn’t easy. Sure, it's a peaceful, if reclusive, life on a remote world, but keeping those vaporators running is hard work. In fact, it’s critical to my survival. I don’t have time to walk long distances searching for food or errant Mandalorians. I need to ride. I need a Blurrg. Herding the reptilian beast doesn't exactly come naturally to me, but -- like moisture farming -- it's a skill necessity has taught me. I've been scratched, bit, trampled, and charged. But after a long, contused apprenticeship, I'm proud to call myself a Blurrg Herder. After corralling and shodding my Blurrg, I crave a beer to wash down all that Arvala-7 dust -- a dry, bitter IPA with a sticky, dank aroma, maybe even a breath of mango as it goes down. None of that turbid blurrgshit. Thankfully, the New Republic's tarrifs on IPAs from the planet only apply to the North East variety, and West Coast IPAs are far superior to Hazy IPAs. I have spoken.
West Coast IPA
dry-hopped w/ Simcoe & HBC586 - 7%