Thanks to the unfathomably perfect position of the celestial bodies in our solar system, we are graced as human beings with the gift of sunlight.
Sure, there are far flung pockets of our planet where, depending on the chronological proximity to an equinox, this is more true than it is for others; places where 6 or 7 hours of arctic sunshine is a Godsend.
For disc golfers, however, there is never enough.
This has led to the inevitable bemoaning of the Daylight Savings Time conundrum among any and all true disciples of the sport. We sit around, finishing that last, half-warm beer as the sun sets, after a hopefully successful round, lambasting the whims of mankind and their infernal desire to tame nature with such silly ideas as arbitrarily changing what time of day it is, twice a year.
For the truly passionate, disc golf can often be a fight against time. We have work, family, school, and weather hurdles to overcome before we can even get to the first tee.
Then there’s that goddamned Daylight Savings Time on top of it all.
Given just how immovable the concept of time is, (and how unlikely the reversal of DST seems at this point), we are always looking for an edge.
For the studious, drugs like Adderall tend to bend the mind, allowing for the near-full exploitation of time. For the rich, there’s cocaine. For the rural, there’s methamphetamine.
And, for the rest of us, there’s coffee.
What this roasted-bean brew lacks in kick compared to the aforementioned indulgences, it more than makes up for in cost and accessibility. Coffee is so inexpensive that it is practically ubiquitous in American society, being sold everywhere from airports to ballparks, and gas stations to hospitals.
Now, it even comes in a can.
Tremolo isn’t just your average, fat-cop-in-a-diner coffee, no. Tremolo is bringing the tongue-in-cheek gourmet nuances of craft beer into the to-go coffee market.
This is a nitro-coffee; that is to say that it is carbonated with nitrogen instead of carbon dioxide. Nitrogen’s molecules are much smaller than CO2’s, making the effervescence appear much smoother and almost velvety.
It’s similar to the difference between coarse grit and smooth grit sandpaper on your tongue…but in the most delicate of incarnations.
It’s the same reason that Guinness tastes like a beer milkshake, for it too is a nitrogen-loaded brew.
Tremolo is nothing if not smooth. It’s creamy, but with no cream added. The heaviness is all in the mouthfeel, with a viscosity not terribly unlike that of a melting milkshake.
But I would warn against assuming the impression that this is some sort of dessert-in-disguise.
Tremolo would be right at home in the cupholder on a chilly spring morning, mentally preparing yourself for that first bomb off the tee while avoiding the subtle yet terrifying drift of sleepy truck drivers.
It’s a smooth and extravagantly complex antidote for a case of sudden-onset highway hypnosis.
The brew itself, a “blend of washed Colombian and natural Ethiopian coffees” is a quite distant cousin to the stuff you’re going to discover at Waffle House, (forgive me, Mr. Risley).
The distinctly nutty flavors again give us the impression of sweetness, without truly being sweet.
There’s a nice, musty, dankness to Tremolo as well. It emulates the sophistication of an aged wine or mild cheese, not in flavor, but in quality and fragile nuance. There are no real spikes in the taste profile, other than just the slightest hint of char from the roasting process.
All of this is pleasant, mind you. Don’t get it twisted.
For the record, there is no issue of potency here, as evidenced by this 686-word review having rolled off of the figurative tongue just as smoothly as Tremolo traversed it’s literal iteration moments earlier.
Will Tremolo become part of my mourning routine? Absolutely. But this little collaboration between ATLiens is so much more than just that.
To call it routine would be an insult.
Tremolo is available at Dekalb Athletic Club near Inman Park.