Your eyes are not deceiving you. What follows is a review of Bud Light Golden Wheat. Why, you ask? Did I fall and hit my head? Did I recently give up self-mutilation and feel a need to wound myself? No to all. We’ve seen the commercials and wondered. I have written glowingly about Budweiser American Ale, and stand by those writings. Could Anheuser-Busch/InBev or whatever the hell they call themselves now strike gold two times? I was curious to find out…
Not so curious to try it before now. If you are a price conscious beer shopper, then you may have noticed that a six pack of Bud Light Golden Wheat is priced at $7.49. I’m not that curious, especially considering a six pack of Leiny’s Sunset Wheat is $6.99 and Bell’s Oberon is $7.99. Anyone who would choose Golden Wheat over those two at that price is insane, stupid, or some horrifying combination of the two. But this past weekend, it was on sale for $5.99. Why not go for it? I justified it by saying I could write a review; such is my love for you, dear Epic Portions readers that I was willing to not only purchase Bud Light Golden Wheat, but consume it as well, all for your knowledge and edification.
But is it that bad? How low were my expectations? If on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the beer equivalent of fermented horse urine, and 10 being the most delicious wheat beer ever (Hoegaarden), I was hoping for a 5 or 6. Something akin to Blue Moon Light. Not totally unrealistic considering that the aforementioned Bud American Ale is a very solid amber ale.
Quite often the word FAIL is casually tossed around, but after trying Bud Light Golden Wheat I now believe the use of FAIL was intended specifically for this product. It is wretched. The bottle claims it is brewed with, “coriander and citrus peels.” I defy anyone to tell me they can taste either in Golden Wheat. I couldn’t taste coriander, I couldn’t taste citrus, but I could sure as hell taste Bud Light. Even after drinking five of them, I still couldn’t taste either. And at 4.1% alcohol, I was unable to drink myself into a state of no longer caring. I stumbled upstairs to bed, knowing that I would awaken the next morning with a shame not felt by yours truly since I was single. Waking up next to Golden Wheat made me feel like I needed to bathe in disinfectant.
On a side note, written on the bottle is the following: “Unflitered wheat beer will settle. Roll gently to mix.” Not to go all beer snob on them, but do they mean DECANT? I’m supposed to decant my bottle of Bud Light Golden Wheat?!?! And like an idiot I did! I spent an hour apologizing to my frosty mug for subjecting it to Golden Wheat. Trust me, you haven’t really suffered from humiliation until a frosty mug has called you a “sorry-ass piece of shit.” Time to take up self-mutilation, I suppose.
Great pain and suffering can produce great art, and while I am no artist I did compose a haiku to cleanse myself of the befouling beast of Golden Wheat:
bud light golden wheat
a golden shower of shame
summer beer failure