Hooray Beer!

I can remember hating beer my entire childhood. I'm half German and half Canadian, and those are both big beer-drinking cultures, so it wasn't long before he offered me a sip out of his mug during a Monday Night Football game.

Fucking sick!, I thought.

"Uhm, no thanks. I'll stick with my Pepsi."

I don't remember what brand or kind of beer it was in that mug, but it didn't make a difference to me. Over the years following that first beery encounter, I tested and sipped a few more and the result was always the same.

Fucking sick!, I thought.

"Uhm, no thanks. I'll stick with my Mountain Dew."

Of course, the social nature of high school as it is, I knew in the depths of my teetotaling heart I couldn't pass up alcohol forever. I had to find some way to overcome my disgust with the way beer tasted and I had to do it before I went to a party and made an idiot of myself.

Lucky for me, my dad was an Army Colonel and a senior administrator at the Fort Knox base hospital. His duties not only included being a commander, but also as socializer (his boss tended to shrug these things on to him). Also lucky for me, I grew up far too mature for my age. I got along better with adults than kids my age. Even with my long hair and generally sarcastic demeanor, the soldiers warmed to me and we got along well. So when my dad needed help with the parties he had to throw, I had no trouble getting the spot as barkeep.

My mom was too busy with the food. Tee-hee-hee.

Now, my dad may be almost entirely German, but (judging by my current standards, of course), his beer tastes border on the lame. Coors, Bud Light, Red Dog, Lone Star, etc. were his typical beer purchases. (Well, he stopped drinking Lone Star once the plant was sold outside Texas, but that's unimportant.) Once he retired, he lifted his head up from the muck and came around and picked up some better choices from the New Braunfels area. But, that's getting ahead of myself.

The only beer which could be called premium which he bought back then was Heineken. Which I like now, sort of. Only in the big bottles.

My beer career started off in the slums, but it did get better. I learned how to properly open a can, the crucial difference between twist-off bottle tops and those which required a tool (or a brave set of teeth), and the very basics of how to pour beer into a glass. All self-taught, I might add. Enough of these parties passed where I could vaguely pick out the differences in taste among the brands. I usually passed it off as cigarette cravings run amok. I still had no idea what a lager was compared to an ale or a dopplebock.

Fast forward to my first semester in college. Being the anti-socialite I was in high school meant that my feared alcohol disaster didn't even get a chance to occur. My new scholastic situation was quite different. I learned more about this odd creature called "foreign beer" and how freakin' expensive it was compared to all the familiar American brands. (No, dad never let me near his Heineken.)

I also learned about the true challenge of collegiate beer...the cheap brands.

I didn't get past my second semester of UT-Austin. Beer had nothing to do with that...it was more of a motivational problem. I just hated going to class.

By now, beer was no longer a scary bubbly thing to be approached with caution. Beer...actually...kinda tasted alright. Graduating to drinks like Dos Equis and Ziegen Bock wasn't too hard, even factoring in the price. I didn't tell any family about this. They would have died from shock. And they never had anything good in the fridge whenever I dropped by, so the wake would have sucked major ass.

Fast forward to Now. I proudly maintain an perfect 100% vomit-free record of drinking. I've suffered a few hangovers and even a mild case of alcohol poisoning in South Padre, but my iron determination and my Spider Senses keep me from broaching my limit. My Canadian family has been more than helpful, offering new things like Alexander Keith's and Moosehead. I must say our buddies up north generally have a selection that puts us in the south to shame.

Today, the beers of choice have morphed from the banalities of Icehouse, Budweiser, and Shiner to the glories of Bass (and Harp), Red Stripe, Sapporro, Fat Tire, Rolling Rock and St. Pauli Girl (Special Dark!). Recently, a friend discovered a neat pub near his house and we've been going there regularly and have taken the Guinness plunge as well as tasting the house brews and the crazy microbrews the locals create.

I'm not very impressed with Real Ale or Texas Tornado.

Still not quite ready to call myself anything but a decent beer drinker who has a good idea what I like. There are a lot of beers out there waiting to be sampled. Just gotta wait till next weekend...

Posted by Drizzten at March 25, 2003 01:26 AM