Our story so far...
I had my first beer at age 36. Where I live, that is twice the legal drinking age. I had previously eschewed sipping the sweet suds due to my belief that a century and a half ago, Jesus told a guy to tell me (via revelation and subsequent policy interpretation) not to drink alcohol. Turns out that guy was full of shit. Once I figured this out, I was free to partake.
I wanted my first drink to mean something, to be at least a little bit symbolic. A co-worker, Bill, had been off work for a significant time period due to a serious injury, and to celebrate his return a few people were heading to a bar after work to share a drink with him.
Good enough for me.
Another co-worker, Brad, seized the opportunity to be the first person to ever buy me a drink. Dozens had made this offer over the years. Brad was the first not to be turned down.
It was a glass of Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale. I did not like it. (I like it now) I liked the overall experience as well as the pleasant, mild effect of a little alcohol. But the taste? I really didn't see the attraction. Everyone was eager for my reaction, and I was honest about not "getting it".
Terry said, "Ha! Nobody actually likes booze. You don't drink it because you like the taste." Others contested this point, but I was inclined to agree with Terry. My alcohol cherry had been popped, and I have to admit, I was disappointed.
But I'd always heard that beer was an acquired taste, so I set out to acquire it.
I tried a few things here and there with basically the same result. Nice buzz, bad taste. I can't even remember for sure which ones I tried over the next few months. Most of them were craft brews or at least craft-ish brews.
Then it happened. I had a day off and the barn needed some serious cleaning. It was also seriously hot and I spent a seriously long time accomplishing that cleaning. Many hours. Hot, sweaty, dusty hours. I almost walked into the house for some water. But remembering that I had stashed a Rickard's sample pack in the RV, I slipped inside, closed the door, and opened the fridge.
The moment that bottle of Rickard's White hit the mugginess of the surrounding atmosphere it beaded up, cold condensation dripping and instantly re-forming. I removed the cap and took a sip. A bigger sip. A pause to curiously regard the bottle at arms length, and I raised it to my lips a third time. No more sipping. I drained it.
Nirvana!
I quickly grabbed another bottle. Not the white this time. I can't remember if it was the red or the amber. It went down almost as quickly. Beautiful!
Oddly, I realized that the flavours of these two beers were not fundamentally different from the flavours of some I had already tried. It wasn't that I'd found the right beer, it was me: I had acquired the taste! Soon I would discover that there was a huge range of flavours within the genre of fermented barley water. I've been trying to sample as many as possible. Most I like, some I don't. Some I like a little too much, and may occasionally make noises during consumption that cause discomfort in the people around me.
Since my craft brew advent calendar only provides me with one of each beer, I've decided that my rating system will be this: How many more do I wish I had? I know there's no ceiling on that rating system. That's the point.
Our Lager,
Which art in barrels,
Hallowed be thy drink.
Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk), At home
As it is in the pub
Give us this day our foamy head,
And forgive Us our spillages, As we forgive those
who Spill against us.
And lead us not to incarceration,
But deliver Us from hangovers.
For thine is the beer,
The bitter, the lager.
Forever and ever,
Barmen.
I tried a few things here and there with basically the same result. Nice buzz, bad taste. I can't even remember for sure which ones I tried over the next few months. Most of them were craft brews or at least craft-ish brews.
Then it happened. I had a day off and the barn needed some serious cleaning. It was also seriously hot and I spent a seriously long time accomplishing that cleaning. Many hours. Hot, sweaty, dusty hours. I almost walked into the house for some water. But remembering that I had stashed a Rickard's sample pack in the RV, I slipped inside, closed the door, and opened the fridge.
The moment that bottle of Rickard's White hit the mugginess of the surrounding atmosphere it beaded up, cold condensation dripping and instantly re-forming. I removed the cap and took a sip. A bigger sip. A pause to curiously regard the bottle at arms length, and I raised it to my lips a third time. No more sipping. I drained it.
Nirvana!
I quickly grabbed another bottle. Not the white this time. I can't remember if it was the red or the amber. It went down almost as quickly. Beautiful!
Oddly, I realized that the flavours of these two beers were not fundamentally different from the flavours of some I had already tried. It wasn't that I'd found the right beer, it was me: I had acquired the taste! Soon I would discover that there was a huge range of flavours within the genre of fermented barley water. I've been trying to sample as many as possible. Most I like, some I don't. Some I like a little too much, and may occasionally make noises during consumption that cause discomfort in the people around me.
Since my craft brew advent calendar only provides me with one of each beer, I've decided that my rating system will be this: How many more do I wish I had? I know there's no ceiling on that rating system. That's the point.
Our Lager,
Which art in barrels,
Hallowed be thy drink.
Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk), At home
As it is in the pub
Give us this day our foamy head,
And forgive Us our spillages, As we forgive those
who Spill against us.
And lead us not to incarceration,
But deliver Us from hangovers.
For thine is the beer,
The bitter, the lager.
Forever and ever,
Barmen.
It's 2013 North American Craft Brew Advent Calendar Eve!
Cheers!
