“A brand that has stood the test of time,” says the label. “Brewed with 100% Rocky Mountain water for a legendary taste.”

They’re not lying. You can taste the legendary taste … of water.

I do have to admit, it’s good tasting water. Unlike their nemesis, Budweiser, which I find utterly vile — Coors has no vileness in it. The sad thing is that there’s nothing much there at all.

I am odd in that I like drinking bubbling water — it comes from growing up with parents who loved their scotch and sodas — and so seltzer water, club soda, and even tonic water tastes good to me. Coors is so close to club soda that I actually like it, but I really hesitate to call it a beer.

It’s club soda with a hint — a bare hint, mind you, almost microscopic — of beer flavor. A faint echo of beer flavor. A dim shadow on a cloudy day.

On first sip you can only really detect the tingling of carbonation. Hidden within that is the hint of hops, manifesting as the ghost of mild bitterness. After that sip is done, for several seconds there’s nothing at all. Then, as your mouth rests and your palate searches, it finds the slightest upwelling of beer flavor that lasts, perhaps, 40 seconds. Then it fades, leaving you wondering if you’d really tasted it, or if you’d imagined it.

I have on several occasions treated Coors like a Corona and jammed a lime wedge into the bottle. That and a bit of salt improve the taste by … well, by giving it some taste. Conversely, I can drink a Corona without a lime, and still recognize a strong taste of beer.

I can say this, though. It’s a good beer to use if you want to reset your palate for drinking other beers.

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