Blogging about beer comes with the expectation that you’ll frequently receive emails from marketers that include press releases, event invites and general attempts at generating buzz around whatever product or infographic a company might be trying to push. I respond in a selective manner mostly because there’s a lot of junk and people looking to peddle something that has only a faint relation to beer.
Since starting this blog back in 2011, I hadn’t accepted a free product in return for a review up until this spring. I had started getting the itch to blog again and decided to entertain some of the emails turning up in my inbox. The first one came from a company called Snake Bite that mainly makes…I guess you’d call them “craft” bottle openers?
With the amazing ability to go “from bonfire to bar,” its main claim to uniqueness is the opener’s snake like prongs on the end that, for the enlightened beer drinker, allows you to poke holes in the top of a can to give a smooth pour into a glass. It works well for that purpose, but the best use I found for it was downing Coors Light at an impossibly fast pace with my uncle on a pontoon boat over 4th of July without getting bloated. Cool!
I keep it in my bag that I carry at all times and it’s useful when needed, but nothing really noteworthy and quite frankly, I was turned off by the product video which included many of the familiar sexist undertones that beer advertising has a confusingly hard time avoiding. It almost prompted me to make a parody video, but I’m not particularly skilled at video editing, so the critique ends here.
Then I got an email from a company offering a sonic beer foamer. I wasn’t intrigued at first, but thought about how it might benefit the delicate art of beer photography as an aid to maintain head on a pour. A few days after initially opening the email, I responded and told them I’d love to try it out.
I’ve seen foamers before. I thought maybe it would be one like this that appeared to work quite well in frothing up a beer. What I received was drastically different but was worth the amusement I received in giving this thing a try. I mean, look at it.
Four batteries and a couple of tablespoons of water and I was ready to be foamed into oblivion. The instructions were clear that I was only to fill the glass three quarters full to avoid the impending frothy explosion that was sure to exceed the confines of my chosen receptacle. I obliged and read eagerly on as the next warning cautioned overuse of the activation button to avoid a similar fate of foam eruption.
I had begun to second guess my choice not to wear a rain poncho as I plunged my index finger down on the button, awaiting the release of hop aromas and beautiful, biscuity beer foam. Behold.
To summarize, I was sent a battery powered water coaster that looks like a space ship launch pad. I suppose the results were enough to prompt a post, links and exposure to their product which makes them, at the very least, successful at marketing an odd product.