|Oh, no, he didn't!|
I have to set up the back story on this one. You see, when I was a young, fearless daredevil, I used to talk myself into all kinds of crazy sh*t. When I was young and dumb, I once paddled my surfboard out into 25 foot storm surf just to prove I could make it back in alive. When I was 11 years old, I bombed down a mountain on my Schwinn Stingray, long before real mountain bikes were invented. And let's not even get into the tale about those two high speed police chases...
So, there I was in Rite Aid, waiting for my wife to get a prescription filled, when I found myself peering into the cold case at a can of Bud Chelada. Budweiser & Clamato?
"How bad could it be?" said that evil little voice that gets me into trouble. "Come on, TRY IT!"
"No, that sounds pretty awful," I responded aloud. "Especially the Budweiser part...and the Clamato part."
"Bok! Bok-bok-bok! Chicken! Bok!"
Dammit! That gets me every time! The next thing I knew, I was standing at the cash register with a bag of Corn Nuts and a can of Chelada.
The "beer" poured from can into my pint glass a pinkish, salmon color with a brief, fizzy white head. Lots of carbonation with bubbles coating the inside of the glass. (Note that I prepped the glass bloody mary style with a salt rim.)
Aroma was tomato juice and lime-aid. Stinky, corny Bud smell was present in the background.
Taste was like a watered down bloody mary. Not terrible. On this horribly hot day, it was actually kind of refreshing. There was a lot more clam and lime flavor than I was expecting. The salt and lime made it palatable--like the Corn Nuts I was washing down with the stuff.
Thin mouthfeel with soda pop carbonation. Tomato was the primary taste left on the palate.
The 24 oz. can set me back $2.65, which is a bit pricey for a crap beer. I obviously wasn't expecting much, but truthfully, I'd drink this stuff again. I'm giving Chelada the coveted "Golden Turd Award", which is reserved for that rarest of beers--one that is so bad...it's good.