Reviews, Commentary and Opinions on Midwest Craft Beer and Microbreweries

July 19, 2016

The Culture of Beer:

Good Beer Makes Good Conversation

The effects of drinking beer worth talking about.
by Eddie Glick

I like my beer like my women: pale, strong, full-bodied, and extremely bitter.
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So I’m back to playing softball again this year in a futile attempt to get out there and interact with the rest of society. While both my playing and social interactions have been miserable failures (I hit into a triple play—in fucking rec league softball—and everyone on the team thinks my name is Dan), I have been able to vicariously observe what camaraderie looks and sounds like by tailing my teammates to our sponsor bar after the games.

This has led to some interesting discoveries, like what horrid concoctions 21-year-olds voluntarily drink and that dill pickles taste especially good after an especially embarassing defeat. I also was able to witness a little gem of a craft beer story which I am about to relate.

One of the team members, an old, friendly enemy of mine who goes by the unlikely moniker of Pid Purdy, decided—despite the fact that his fridge has been known at times to contain Corona, for Christ’s sake—that everyone ought to try a beer he’d recently discovered called Dragon’s Milk from New Holland Brewing. Being on speaking terms with the bartender, he got permission to smuggle a bomber into a dank corner of the bar where we were huddled around a couple of tables, and proceeded to pour out a few samples to the rest of the team, albeit in plastic cups.

Of course I’ve had this absolutely fantastic bourbon barrel-aged stout on many occasions, but no one else at the tables had even heard of the beer, let alone the brewery. But as soon as the first splash hit that plastic cup, everyone was keenly interested. Some of them marvelled over how dark it was, while others said they could smell the bourbon and vanilla across the table. They asked where the brewery was, how much alcohol the beer had, where Pid bought it, how much it cost, and what the Hell barrel-aging was, anyway. Almost everyone liked it, and a couple of guys absolutely loved it. The guy who only drank Miller Lite took one sip and coughed like a stereotypical movie teenager taking his first taste of whiskey.

But the entire scene was a phenomena of how craft beer can bring us together and get us talking, instead of silently staring at whatever sports was on the boob tube while sucking down tasteless, mindless swill. That’s what drinking beer that’s worth talking about does. And you know what isn’t worth talking about? Bud fucking Light.