Beer, Beer, Beer

I.  Before the louts that are Roger Clinton and Jeb Bush, our fine nation was blessed with one of the most influential presidential siblings of all time. With apologies to RFK, I'm talking, of course, about Billy Carter. Hell yes, he was country, and simple as a two-by-four, but brother Billy played an inspired role in the U.S. microbrew revolution — and for that, he must be celebrated.

The fact that his eponymous "Billy" beer tasted like a mixture of old bongwater, urine, and IC Light notwithstanding, you had to love his advertising approach: It's the best beer I've ever tasted. And I've tasted a lot. (A reworking of Schaefer's classic one beer to have when you're having more than one.) Billy beer didn't exactly corner the market, but it did gain a certain trashy kitsch appeal in the way that, say, a Bill Clinton cigar might.

Regardless, it was Billy who convinced POTUS Jimmy to do away with moldy blue laws against homebrewing, which gave both everyday Joes and entrepreneurs permission to legally brew beer in small batches. In this case, as in many, a little experimentation in the garage went a long way. It took a good 10 years to catch fire, but once folks perfected their recipes, it was game on.

So raise a pint to Billy, because today's package store shelves look a far sight better than they did in the '80s. And many of us can hit up a local pub and find draft offerings from Dogfish Head, Victory, Sierra Nevada, and the like.

II.  The first beer I can remember drinking (and I don't mean that in an Amy Winehouse sort of way) was a Carlsberg "Elephant" beer, at a party back in tenth grade. It was basically OE for the suburban set. Bad beer, but it made us feel cool, and it gave me something to hold while those with an even greater need to feel cool experimented with the latest from Medellín.

While growing up, I had tasted beer my dad poured for himself, and never really liked it all that much. But when one wants to develop a taste for something, one can, and for good or ill, beer was an integral part of my college experience.

I didn't necessarily drink good beer in college, mind you, but I did drink it. It was after those four years that I had the good fortune for my culinary tastebuds to come of age at the moment the microbrew industry went public with their IPO of IPAs, presenting delicious alternatives to those of us boring Americans daring enough to drink anything darker than Bud.

Yes, I know there are still plenty of light-beer–swilling folks out there, and all I can say is thank you for leaving more of the good stuff for those of us who like it. Just get your simple ads off my hockey telecasts, eh?

III.  Cheers.

Coach: What's the story, Norm?
Norm: Thirsty guy walks into a bar. You finish it.

IV.  Two weeks ago, I went to the New England Real Ale Exhibition (NERAX) — which, as luck would have it — is held in my neighborhood each year. This is a somewhat small but well-organized affair held over several nights, and damn if they don't bring in some hella ales each year.

"Real ale" is defined by the Campaign for Real Ale as "beer brewed from traditional ingredients, matured by secondary fermentation in the container from which it is dispensed, and served without the use of extraneous carbon dioxide." You can read plenty more about the distinction here, but in a nutshell, real ale is to brewing what "slow food" is to cooking — a natural, old-school approach meant to highlight both the product and the process.

The beers tend to be smooth, and less carbonated than most non-cask beers. If beer had tasted like this when I was growing up, I might actually have taken a dinner-table liking to it much sooner. Not that these are kid beers (for lack of a better term); most are very flavorful and complex in a way that surpasses many of the better bottled beers.

In fact, I found it interesting to sample the real ale versions of beers I can readily buy in bottles at the liquor store. Last year, I discovered first in cask form and then in bottles what I'd been missing in Geary's Hampshire Special Ale, a delicious beer. On the other hand, though I liked Harpoon's (then) new Brown Session Ale from a cask, its bottled equivalent leaves something to be desired.

Clearly, in the name of both science and of blogging, I need to do a bit more "research," and report back. Until then, thank god for the brewer patriots out there, giving us freedom of choice, and the choicest of hops. And thank god for Billy Carter.

The Clancy Brothers — Beer, Beer, Beer

Comments

[mrclean]

Great post. There is micro fest up the street this weekend...I'm tempted.