Unlike most Rogue’s tried and tested, this was found only in smaller 12-ounce bottle. Amazingly, it loses little textural richness or fine organic consistency. Honey-glazed creaminess, moderate fruity bitterness, and herbal twinge enhance corn syrupy malted grain continuance, though intrusively astringent hop finish ransacks buttery vanilla snippet.

Pours from the can like thick nitro-fueled Guinness (though much lighter in appearance), allowing cascading bubbles to arise from bottom. Creamy froth saturates orange peel tang, wafting barleymalt sweetness and brisk hop bitterness, bettering Boddington’s billowy dilution by a widget. But it’s a tidbit thin for its class.

Initially, sour-fruited hefeweizen-pilsner-pale ale combo needed more pronounced Scotch malt thrust and less astringent nuttiness to hike wavering orange-lemon midst and floral-spiced backdrop. Second tasting a year hence, 10% alcohol level enlivened caramelized apple sweetness, broader floral bouquet and ascending piney-hopped grapefruit-apricot finish for much better result.

Brewed with hemp seed, indistinguishable cream ale knocks off richer, more popular Hempen Ale, though sour-fruited nature and bittersweet honeyed malting seem apprehensive. Fairly strong (is that the hemp going to my head?) with fine grain mesh and paltry berry dab.

In cheap transparent bottle not unlike Miller Beer, pale-toned welterweight layers soft lemony-hopped toasted nut sputter and doughy dullness across corn sugared malt piquancy. But light buttery essence lacks discernible creaminess. Polite, simple, indistinct mediocrity gets nod over Genesee.

A different version of Labatt 50 to celebrate brewers’ half-century mark. Fizzy raspberry spritz, floral fruit scamper, and grain-malted tranquility consume front end. Short-lived meringue finish recalls spicier red ales, but expected creaminess lacks.

Translucent coppery one-off can’t escape miring Sleeman-related grain dankness. Yet heavier alcohol combustion and tangy orange-apricot stint best brewers’ traditional Cream Ale. Sweet malts turn frustratingly pungent though straw-to-cracked wheat spine holds up well against meager lemon drop snip. Too bad carbolic diacetyl finish gets oily. (Numeric appellation designates ancient recipe page.)