"American" Beer

A few weekends ago, I attended my college reunions. It was phenomenal: a 3.5-day fun-fest of thumping music; hot, sweaty alumni trying to pretend to be hot, sweaty undergraduates; and beer, lots of beer. It's a general rule of thumb that the older the class, the better the beer. At the 5th reunion, there's Budweiser and Bud Light. At the 10th reunion, we added Hoegaarden to that, but only for one night. The 15th had Yuengling; I think the 30th had Magic Hat. But as for the majority of the weekend, we had two choices: the red tap or the blue tap: Budweiser or Bud Light. Neither option is ideal, but when in Rome, one does as the Romans do.

But now that I've reentered the real world, I'm very, very happy to be drinking beer that once again tastes like beer. However, my experiences over Reunions weekend segue into an interesting story that I found the day after memorial day. The advertising journal Ad Age reported that Budweiser was branding itself as the prototypical "American" beer with some super-patriotic beer cans. This despite the fact that Budweiser was purchased by the Brazilian-Belgian firm InBev to create Belgium-based Anheuser-Busch InBev N.V. three years ago.

America Rules

Now, Budweiser and Bud Light have long been associated with the "American Macrobrew" style that is as ubiquitous as it is devoid of flavor. I once drank a €1 Budweiser offered up by a bar in Europe as a palate cleanser between real beers. The point that Ad Age was driving toward was this: "The average consumer has a short memory," said Harry Schuhmacher, editor of Beer Business Daily. "The fact that Anheuser-Busch was bought by a foreign company was all over the news ... but then it died down and people went about their business."

Notes beer historian Maureen Ogle, in the Ad Age article, "Consumers drink beer, they don't obsess over who owns what." I'm reminded of the Beer Summit held by President Obama two summers ago after the Henry Louis Gates mess. The President drank Bud Light, Sergeant Crowley of the Cambridge Police Department drank Blue Moon, and Prof. Gates had a Sam Adams Light. Note: Biden, apparently, drank Buckler, a non-alcoholic beer (a choice that was "mostly ironic"). The Wall Street Journal tried to stir the pot, noting that Bud Light was technically foreign, as was Blue Moon (owned by Molson Coors, a Canadian company).

This is a "chocolate freedom"

But really, the best thing to come out of that article was the discovery that, while George W. Bush was still pissed off at "Old Europe," the White House referred to chocolate souffles as "chocolate freedoms." source for photo above.

Douchetastic Beer

Happy memorial day. It's the start of summer and it's the start of grilling season. It's also the start of bad beer season, as lamented last week. Miller Lite, for instance, is offering "taste points" for "epic prizes" to "save my summer." My summer will certainly need saving if I'm caught drinking Miller Lite.

Anyway, so it's summer in New Jersey, which means watching out for jackasses wearing Ed Hardy clothing. It also, unfortunately, also means watching out for people drinking Ed Hardy beer.

Thankfully, this stuff is pretty easy to recognize: it's decked out in the same tattoo-festooned crap that is so easy to find on the bridge & tunnel crowd. There are two: a lite and a regular. Both are godawful.

I am ashamed for having purchased this.

The regular is surprisingly dark for a summer lager, but one can never be sure if that color is real. The smell? Stale fraternity basement. The sip is thin and lousy, with corn sweetness and no real bitterness at all. It's just a watery mess that made me regret dropping the $1.50 on it.

Whoever makes this beer doesn't like beer.

The light is, well, it's worse. Like somebody let wonderbread ferment in a pint glass of water and then pissed in it for good measure. I have nothing else except to say not to drink these beers. Ever.

Of Summer and Secrecy

So it doesn't exactly look like we've been doing our jobs now, does it? I mean, the numbers tell the tale: 7 posts in January, 1 in February, and only 3 each in March and April. And in May? This is the first one. Nope - we're just not drinking enough. Or if we are (and OK, I'll admit it - I am), then we're not writing about it. And that's a shame.

I'll try to have a bunch more reviews and posts up soon. I make no promises, especially since I've already derelict in my duties and it's the 25th. But I'll see what I can do.

As for now, I'm slowly switching back to summer beers. Summer beers aren't always the best tasting: they can be watery, a little sour, sometimes a bit too sweet. They're often pretty low alcohol to accommodate longer drinking sessions that are more apt to take place as the days lengthen. And a lot of the time, brewers think that because there's going to be less alcohol and we're going to drink more of it, there should be less flavor in the beer as well.

And really, that's crap. The fun summer brews are those that have a little citrus, maybe some extra spices, some bracing hop bite. Cascade hops can sometimes mimic the bright flavors of grapefruit; I think Centennial hops can taste quite lemony - both are welcome as a wonderful sour component to a beer that quenches the thirst like a lemonade. In fact, there are a few preparations of lager and "lemonade" that can be quite nice: in Germany, where it was "invented," it's a Radler; in France, a panaché; and in England (where I spent lots of wonderful time and money), it's a shandy. Keep in mind that this is a European lemonade: a dry sparkling lemon soft drink that's like Sprite but without all the sugar. See the Pimm's posting for more. Feel free to mix your own. Under no circumstances should one consume Leinenkugel Summer Shandy, which is a premixed abomination of a concoction in which tasteless lager is mixed with lemon pledge and bottled. Gross.

But last Friday (before a delightful dinner with a good friend), I enjoyed my first Samuel Adams Summer Ale, which is an old favorite. My affinity for Boston Brewing Company is no secret, and I do think that Sam Summer is one of the best summer beers around.

Finally, I had a weekend project last week, and that was to hide a full martini bar inside an innocent-looking briefcase. The results are spectacular, if I may say so myself. I realize it's not exactly fashionable to carry around a hard-cover attache case anymore, and it does make me feel a little dated.

This is like the Clark Kent of briefcases. Totally mild-mannered. Dull, even.

But once I open up the interior, I've got room for all the essentials. That's my gin of choice: Old Bombay (I find Sapphire a little harsh and astringent), a small bottle of Martini & Rossi vermouth, and a cheap but decent Vodka (not for me, but in case I'm feeling hospitable and a friend insists). Incidentally, the NYTimes did a tasting of super-premium vodkas about 6 years ago and threw in Smirnoff just for fun. The Smirnoff beat the Grey Goose, Level, Ketel One, and a few others - nice.

I really enjoyed constructing this. I have also really enjoyed constructing drinks out of it.

I also have a shaker, a miniature bottle of olives, some toothpicks, two shot glasses (for unadulterated drinking) and two collapsible cocktail glasses. And with Ivy League reunions coming up (snob alert!), I'm well-provisioned. See you after reunions.