Summer. 1959. A picnic. Ermal Fraze, a
kindly tool-and-die man, wrapped his calloused hand around an ice-cold,
flat-top can of beer and asked, "Anybody bring a can opener?" To his
horror, no one replied, "Yes." Out of the ashes of this indignity, Ermal
rose like a phoenix. And later, the pop-top can, whish is still used
today. Grab a can of Ermal's Belgian Style Cream Ale. Its light, creamy
body. Mild spice accents. And a symphony of citrus notes. They're
inside. So let them out.
kindly tool-and-die man, wrapped his calloused hand around an ice-cold,
flat-top can of beer and asked, "Anybody bring a can opener?" To his
horror, no one replied, "Yes." Out of the ashes of this indignity, Ermal
rose like a phoenix. And later, the pop-top can, whish is still used
today. Grab a can of Ermal's Belgian Style Cream Ale. Its light, creamy
body. Mild spice accents. And a symphony of citrus notes. They're
inside. So let them out.
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