Budweiser and Clamato - Chelada I have never wanted to like a beer more than I have wanted to like Chelada.  My girlfriend Emilee had insisted it was terrible on multiple occasions.  Countless times (okay, maybe once or twice) we have left grocery stores, me in disappointment and her with a mild sense of relief, unable to locate what I had built up in my mind to be what had to be the greatest fermented beverage ever.  Budweiser, clams and tomato juice?  It it did not taste great why would the even bother right? Last night I finally found Chelada amongst the malt liquors at a grocery store deep in the heart of south St. Louis. I proudly took it back to Emilee’s, followed the instructions on the can, being sure to mix the drink sufficiently while not agitating the beer too much and poured it into a tasting glass.  I offered Emilee a drink but of course she refused.  I took my first sip and tried to feign a mild taste for it.  I insisted it was not too bad, waited a few minute and worked up the courage to finish the glass.  I think I tried to analyze its taste and offer some positive opinions.  ”Tastes like V8, only with beer and clams.” I then tried drinking it straight from the can, gulping as much down at once as I possibly could.  Hoping to continue the ruse that I still liked it.  But in the end I had to do what anyone with a shred of self respect would do.  I poured the rest of the can down the drain and admitted to Emilee she was right.  Chelada is disgusting.

Budweiser and Clamato - Chelada

I have never wanted to like a beer more than I have wanted to like Chelada.  My girlfriend Emilee had insisted it was terrible on multiple occasions.  Countless times (okay, maybe once or twice) we have left grocery stores, me in disappointment and her with a mild sense of relief, unable to locate what I had built up in my mind to be what had to be the greatest fermented beverage ever.  Budweiser, clams and tomato juice?  It it did not taste great why would the even bother right?

Last night I finally found Chelada amongst the malt liquors at a grocery store deep in the heart of south St. Louis. I proudly took it back to Emilee’s, followed the instructions on the can, being sure to mix the drink sufficiently while not agitating the beer too much and poured it into a tasting glass.  I offered Emilee a drink but of course she refused.  I took my first sip and tried to feign a mild taste for it.  I insisted it was not too bad, waited a few minute and worked up the courage to finish the glass.  I think I tried to analyze its taste and offer some positive opinions.  ”Tastes like V8, only with beer and clams.”

I then tried drinking it straight from the can, gulping as much down at once as I possibly could.  Hoping to continue the ruse that I still liked it.  But in the end I had to do what anyone with a shred of self respect would do.  I poured the rest of the can down the drain and admitted to Emilee she was right.  Chelada is disgusting.