What is "kingsland"

Usage examples of "kingsland".

They have skilled jobs in the Kingsland Brewing Company, located just out of town to the south and one block east of the Mississippi.

The empty parking lot behind the Sand Bar awaits the noisy arrival of the Thunder Five, who customarily spend their Saturday afternoons, evenings, and nights in the enjoyment of the Sand Bar's pool tables, hamburgers, and pitchers of that ambrosia to the creation of which they have devoted their eccentric lives, Kingsland Brewing Company's finest product and a beer that can hold up its creamy head among anything made in a specialty microbrewery or a Belgian monastery, Kingsland Ale.

Not only do they know much more about beer than we do, they called upon every bit of the knowledge, skill, expertise, and seat-of-the-pants inspiration at their disposal to make Kingsland Ale a benchmark of the brewer's art.

For his part, Richie Bumstead has had enough macaroni-tuna casseroles and whisper-voiced phone calls from Myrtle to last him through two more lifetimes, but this is one set of whispers he's glad, even oddly relieved, to listen to, because he drives a truck for the Kingsland Brewing Company and has come to know Beezer St.

Beezer, it turned out, was head brewmaster in Kingsland Ale's special-projects division, and the other guys were just under him.

He didn't have the stamina to put away two pitchers of Kingsland, play a decent game of pool, drink two more pitchers while talking about the influences of Sherwood An-derson and Gertrude Stein on the young Hemingway, get into some serious head-butting, put down another couple of pitchers, emerge clearheaded enough to go barrel-assing through the countryside, pick up a couple of experimental Madison girls, smoke a lot of high-grade shit, and romp until dawn.

If Dit's mental processes were to be transcribed from their shorthand into standard English, the result would be, He's gotta have something on the ball if he brews that Kingsland Ale, because that is some fine, fine beer.

On the other is Lucky's Tavern, where an old woman with bowlegs (her name is Bertha Van Dusen, if you care) is currently bent over with her hands planted on her large knees, yarking a bellyful of Kingsland Old-Time Lager into the gutter.

What he sees is an old tin ashtray with an unopened pack of Pall Malls and a Kingsland Old-Time Lager disposable lighter in it.

He grabs a pitcher from beneath the bar, sets it under the Kingsland Ale tap, and opens the valve.

He would just as soon go back to the Sand Bar and down a pitcher of Kingsland while messing with Stinky's head as waste his time goofing along the highways.

His hand goes unerringly to one of three cans of Kingsland Lager stored inside the door.

On the far side, there's a lighted Kingsland Premium Golden Pale Ale bar clock.

Next to him - big, sweating, red-faced, a Kingsland beer in one hand and another tucked away beneath his seat for emergencies - is the Gorgeous George himself, bellowing at the top of his leather lungs.

They'll leave the Sand Bar when the hands on the Kingsland clock stand at straight-up noon, no sooner.