It happened again last night.  A coworker of mine mentioned to a consultant working with us that I brewed beer.  Her response sent me recoiling (on the inside) in horror.  I cannot bear to repeat those words again, and certainly not a third time, due to the fear of accidentally summoning a Burtonesque Beetlejuice-like character.  When I recovered from the sheer shock, I offered a potent rebuttal.  My normal response is first to state, in no uncertain terms, that the person in question actually likes beer but just happens not to know it yet.  The second tier of this robust response is to ask the following question: “What beers have you had?”

Almost without variation the answer to the question is neatly nestled in the barren lands of the big five (or however many they are lately; one can never tell how many there are these days…conglomeration is so confusing).  Once prodded, their tongues are loosened and the mystery is typically unravelled.  Sometimes I ask what sorts of flavors the person likes, talk some more, and beseech them by all that is true and holy to give it another go or two.  Sometimes these persons just keep going and dig a little deeper to say that they once had a Newcastle or other beer and thought it was okay.  Well, that is something one can work with.

Please do not misconstrue what I am saying.  There are actually those people existing in the world whose unfortunate genetic predisposition punishes them with the predilection of casting an unfriendly eye toward this nectar of the gods.  And that spell, my friend, is not easily cast aside.  Yet, I have seen even that mystical hold broken by the logic of good beer.  Why am I casting suspicion and doubt on my fellow citizens and countrymen (and countrywomen)?  It is because they drink wine.

Before you see red (or white), allow me to explain.  I think wine is terrific.  I truly love a bold, dry, oak tannin filled red.  There are times when an Asti is almost divine… but let’s not get carried away (after all it is not beer, which is why I said “almost”).  Anyway, this is where my theory may seem less tenable but let us suppose that those who can drink ripe, tart, sometimes sour, sometime cloying sweet, even mildly “offense” wine could reasonably tolerate various styles of beer.  Let us suppose that it really is not a matter of taste.  Instead, let us assume it is simply a matter of exposure.  This opens up a new world entirely.

I have seen, on several occasions, not the single batting of an eye over a $15 bottle of Reisling.  Of course this is seen as reasonable and acceptable.  Take that same person and ask them to spend $9 on a 750 ml bottle of beer that is of the same or greater strength and they will bat both eyes and help you to the nearest mental facility.  What is wrong with this picture?

If you have not guessed already I am attempting to build a case that perception is key when it comes to this issue.  For the record (and according to past iterations of this discussion we have posted), I think French Gastronomy has a massive and unrecognized link to wine’s pedigree while snubbing “little brother beer”.  Beer has its work cut out for it because it is fundamentally viewed and associated as unrefined among many people.  So why keep trying it?

But wine has the distinct advantage of “I’m going to like it, come hell or high water”.  I know several people who have weaved wine narratives that goe along the lines of:  1. Did not start out liking it.  2.  Found one or two they liked.  3. Came to appreciate other wines.  4. Started genuinely enjoying various styles.  5. Loves a good wine no matter what style.

Perhaps the point, if I can be viewed as having made a cogent argument or even a point at all, emerges.  Why not give beer another chance?  I know you do not like it, I know you can find one or two you might like, I know you will even come to appreciate some beers you might have not formally liked, perhaps you can start enjoying various styles, and maybe you will come to appreciate a good beer no matter the style.  Please do not write off a whole category based on a few bad apples.

Below is a picture of the oldest beer in my beer cellar.  I actually picked it up at a antique mall in Toledo, Ohio for just a few dollars.  The beer was brewed by the no-longer-in-operation  Great Lakes Brewing Company, out of Fort Wayne, IN–not to be confused with the exceptional Great Lakes Brewing currently located in Cleveland, OH.  The beer was brewed in 1982 for the World’s Fair when I was just a spritely 2 years old.

Yes, it’s “crap” beer.  No, it’s not worth much of anything.  Sure, it’s a pale American Lager. But when I saw it I just had to buy it, not just for its antiquity, but because it instantly reminded me of a great short story that got my wheels turning when I was a teenager.  The story–written by Vincent Bené–is By the Waters of Babylon. The story depicts a young man’s journey in a post Apocalyptic world in which he encounters relics of  his ancestors/gods.  One such relic is, from the story:

There was drink, too, in bottles of glass—the drink of the gods was strong and made my head swim. After I had eaten and drunk, I slept on the top of a stone, my bow at my side.

When I saw that beer on the antique shelf, even though it was in a can on not glass, it just reminded me of the beer that John–from By the Waters of Babylon– may have encountered.  Sure, it would have been cooler to find a 28 year old bottle of Thomas Hardy’s Ale, but Thomas Hardy’s was not on the shelf, and besides…I am strangely curious to see what morbidly expired cheap American lager–the most liked beer that would be discovered should an apocalypse hit the US today–tastes like.

I imagine when I get around to drinking it, I’ll bust out By the Waters of Babylon too.  After all, beer and reading go hand in hand.

As this is a blog, and every blog is op ed in nature, I am just going to come out and say it:  Untappd bugs me.  Before I say why, let me assure you that if you are an untapd member, I think nothing less of you.  I do no think your less intelligent than the average guy/gal.  I do not think your sinister…I just don’t care if your drinking a Red Ale at John Doe’s pubs.  But my irritation goes beyond having to muddle through even more pedantic FaceBook updates (most folk link Untappd with FaceBook) than I did before.  There are two capital reasons that really are at the root of why I will never get an Untappd membership.

1)  The internet is the most capacious  revolution since the industrial revolution, and perhaps the most world impacting phenomenon to occur ever.  For all it’s glory and wonder, it has it’s flaws.  It creates bubbles of unchecked capitalism and–more detrimental–has altered human relationships.  Now, I know that social networking sites like FaceBook and Twitter (both of which I utilize) can help friends who live miles apart stay in touch.  It can create new relationships.  I’ve met and hung out with several pals who were once just profiles and avatars on these sites.  But one thing these sites have done, in my opinion, have limited the depth of relationships that friends once had, primarily by making the friendship an egocentric one.  For the most part, the point of these sites is to tell the world what YOU are doing.  FaceBook, Twitter, and now Untappd assumes that the user is the center of the relationship, and that everybody is just dying to know what your doing or what your drinking.

As a result, I…and several other sociologists…have noted that instead of having a several close friends, a person has many, many, more trivial relationships.  I’m not saying that this is you, but it may be one of your friends.  I’m not the only one who echos these concerns; check out this short clip:  Life Inc.

2) The biggest irk is that I am afraid that Untappd trivializes what, as Sean Inman from beersearchparty like to say, “the end purpose of beer is.”  That’s right, beer has a purpose, actually, many end purposes.  Id say my favorite end purposes of beer is the conversation it enhances when drink it with like minded friends.    Untappd rewards its members by drinking more and different beers with certain “badges.”  I recently looked at some of the beers that were needed to attain to a certain badge level, and the beers were pretty obscure, rare, hard to come by beers (at least around here!).  When I see, “so and so got the ‘crazy big IPA badge’ (fictional badge)  today” it seems like that Untappd update relegated the “end purpose of beer” to mere bragging rites.

Is that what beer is about?  To feel warm and fuzzy that you drank more and different beers than the next guy?  Is that why you tell the everyone your having a given brew…to let them know that they are not having it?  Now, there is a time an place for telling the world that your having a brew.  I frequently mosey over to sites like The Brew Club, Mike Loves Beer, Simply Beer, The Drunken Polack and many more (who may very well have Untappd memberships), because they let me in on the experience they had while drinking the beer in their reviews. Let me tell you, experience is a very “end purpose of beer.”  And if I’ve had the beer in review I can participate a bit in conversation.

Essentially, I feel like Untappd distracts from the human and beer experience.  Like I stated earlier, I have nothing against Untappd users or even the creators of Untappd, we just may hold different opinions.  Let’s face it…the world is full of contrasting opinions.  Even when two folks disagree over a matter, after hearing the other side, while they may not come out altering their opinion, they at least may have altered their perception and grow a bit from learning the other side.  So while we may disagree, just know that it is only out of my love for human relationships and beer, that I offer this opinion.

Now it’s your turn…let us know what you think in the comments below!

That being said, I do try introduce friends and family to better beers.  Always, across the board, the number one complaint against craft beer is not that it tastes bad (although often acclamation is necessary), but that it is TOO EXPENSIVE.  And the complaint bears some validity, though at times I have been know to argue otherwise from a broader alcohol perspective.   But I get it.  I mean, I love me some sour beers.  I would drink a tongue twisting, lactobacillus born beauty everyday if I could, but I can’t afford it.

But there is a compromise, and I have proof.

At the grocery store I happened to notice that Boulevard’s Pilsner was actually CHEAPER than BudLight.  Boulevard’s Pilsner was priced at $5.59 and Anhueser Busch’s BudLight was priced at $5.99   Even better, Boulevard’s Pilsner is actually a really good beer.  When I’m in the mood for a good session pilsner to drink at a picnic or on my back porch in the summer and I don’t have any homebrewed Pilsner on hand, I’ll sometimes grab Boulevard’s Pilsner.  It’s clean, crisp, full flavored, bready…and a hell of a lot better than BudLight.

The great thing is, is that Boulevard’s Pilsner isn’t a leap for the macro drinker.  When weaning a baby off powdered formula or breast milk, you start introducing whole MILK not Coca Cola, right?  So doesn’t it make sense to offer that Miler Light zombie a better tasting (yet familiar) Boulevard Pilsner that actually costs LESS than what their used to?

I am sure that keen eye can find these deals in other cities from other breweries.  I’ll tell you what I’m doing…I’m keeping these pics on  my phone, so that the next time somebody gripes, “Craft beer is just too expensive,” I’ll whip out exhibit A and exhibit B and hopefully make a convert.

I cannot help but occasionally write about the melding of two passions of mine:  Beer and kids.  You see, I love beer, and I love all five of my kids…and before you ask, no, I do not love the brews more than the bambinos.  So isn’t it natural that the two should coalesce into a post or two?

I want beer to be a very natural part of life for my kids; so much so, that when they come of age, beer is not some forbidden fruit to be consumed in large quantities.  I do not want my kids to drink it for drinkings sake.  I don’t want my kids, when of age, to run down to the local gas station and pick up a 24 pack of Bud Light, and drink one after the other like some sort of monotonous routine.  So occasionally, I give my kids a teaspoon size sip of a brew.  At their young age, their palates and minds are so wide open, that the more different flavors you get them used to, the less picky they’ll be.  And, since one day I am sure one of my kids will be president of the United States of America, I am snubbing the potential for a Bush/Broccoli incident in the butt right now.

Anyhow, Ivan–my youngest–saw me pour a brew and had his mind made up that he was going to get it.  When I would not allow him a sip, he was stretching his fat little hand towards the glass for about fifteen minutes.  Eventually he even tried climbing up on a chair to get the brew.

Now, please share any beer and kids stories…I’d love to hear ‘em.  Post a picture in the comments section even, if you know some basic html.  And if you don’t have any kids and beer stories, feel free to tell my boy is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

The truly shocking aspect is that we share these experiences with anyone—that we fully reveal the “man (or woman) behind the curtain.”  Furthermore, there is redemption in that honesty because we learn from the mistakes and help other not to do the same or, more likely, share their gaffs with us as well.

A few instances remind me specifically of this reality.  Granted, these are not humblings of the mortifying variety, but they are expressions of how great openness about our experiences can offer a chastised view of our self-defined and “perfect” reality.  So, without further ado, let me share some brewing humilities I’ve read recently.

First, Jim from Beer and Whiskey brothers (well, Don really does it as well) have a great attitude of humility in that they allow themselves to show silly acts they’ve committed or brews that were too long delayed.  Perhaps a messed up bottling or a broken hydrometer (I’ve done this) or bad method in yeast propagation that are all shared on Cramped Space Brew are great examples.  I genuinely love reading stuff like this because I know what it’s like to fall down before I’m able to walk.  I know what it’s like to drive after an ice storm and get vodka for my hydrometer.  I also still know what it’s like to say something about beer related knowledge and not know the full story.

What about you?  Any silly brewing mistakes or embarrassing beer moments?  Trust me, I’ll be posting plenty in the future.

Forget the measures of niche uniqueness and abstractions about it simply being an Amber Ale among Imperial Stouts. Seriously, the grain pop and session smoothness of it makes me want to write a brief post about the beer.  It also makes me curious about the point at which an Amber Ale became and implicit anathema among crafties (I’ve never heard the term so I’m coining it…at least in my mind).  To be honest, I can get on board with notion that the ubiquitous Amber Ales at the the seemingly endless brew pubs are mediocre or worse.  However, I can’t get hop on the conceptual train that writes off a whole category of beer.

It may be an inspired rant or it may seem like sentimental drivel, depending on your outlook, but why is solid beer getting such a bad name?  To be clear, I enjoy wasabi flavored ice cream with sushi mix-ins as much as the next person, but I sometimes long for the well made vanilla.

Am I crazy?  What do you think?  And I mean the rest of what I’ve said, not my mental status…perhaps that’s self-evident.

I know the many of you couldn’t make it to LA on a Tuesday (time and distance are funny like that), but please support this gentleman and buy his cookbook.  If you like “rooster sauce” and don’t own it…I can’t go on.  Here is where you can get it. If you are interested, here is the first post about the book.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Nate…a Pilsner?  We only drink heavily flavored and dark beers at this table….couldn’t you at least have found an Imperial Pilsner or Wheat Beer on the menu?

We try to pass ourselves off as nerds rather than the dreaded snob we associate with the wine culture, but if we were honest with ourselves, we hold the same type of notions, perhaps we are just a little jovial or dressed down about it.  You know, the wine snob might where a tuxedo while scoffing at the notion of somebody bringing Yellow Tail to a tasting, while we would scoff at somebody bringing Stella Artois to a tasting while wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt.

But hey is a little bit of snobbery a bad thing?

What I want to know is, what is your guilty pleasure?  (I’m talking about beer…I don’t want to hear that you have every Barbara Streisand album on you iPod).   Do you secretly stash a Mickey’s in the back of your fridge, or do you sneak away for a Leinenkugel’s Summer Shandy after having mowed the yard?

Go ahead, enter the Thank Heaven for Beer confessional…just don’t expect any pardon.  I’ll go first:

Against all beer geekery/snobbery, I occasionally will pick up a sixer of Michelob’s  Amber Bock.  Yes, I am aware that the demigods over at BeerAdvocate only gave it a “C” rating.  Yes, I am aware the the beer geek Satan–InBev/Anheuser-Busc–is the brains behind this brew.   But hear me out…First off, the flavor isn’t repulsive…in fact, it’s not that bad.  The beer tastes better to me than most because I can distinctly remember that this beer, Amber Bock, was the beer I drank on the night that my wife and I gave into our passions and conceived our first son Malachi.  No, we weren’t drunk.  The flavor is so engraved in my head, that at one sip and I am reminded of that evening.

So there you have it.

What’s your Guilty Beer Pleasure???

Both articles make great points, and I wouldn’t want to detract from the fundamentals of what Nate is expressing.  However, there is a certain type of inconsistency that I find intriguing. The type of of inconsistency that is on my mind is the type that comes from serial re-pitching.  Actually, I think “inconsistency” isn’t a particularly just term for describing this practice.  In fact, I would call it continual development.

Yeast is a living organism.  In a sense, it has a mind of its own and responds differently to different situations.  I could, for instance, have the exact same yeast strain pitched at the same gravity of a brew with the same temperature and get a slightly different brew.  Volumes of wort (and hydrostatic pressure from that) can have an effect on the yeast as well. However, let’s not forget that yeast is living.  It’s one thing to get yeast from a yeast bank and pitch it, in a sense, tabula rasa.  Yet, it’s quite another when you use that same yeast time and again.

Remember, the unique and pure strains that we use today are the results of serial re-pitching.  They developed and evolved over time.  This is not simply a historical phenomenon.  For instance, Chico Ale yeast is used as a basic ale yeast in many places across the U.S. to develop a house strain/character.  Why?  The conditions and type of brew-houses are different enough that the strain takes on its own type of meaning within a different context.

So, philosophically speaking, consistency can be inhibitive to evolution and revolution.  Consistency can be really good, but it can also be a bit uninteresting.