It was the moment I caught my reflection in my stainless-steel growler that I knew it was true. I have no doubt it had been true for a long time – connoisseur, that is what you are or is it self-righteous craft-beer drinking wanker? There is a fine line between the two. As I scanned the contents of my fridge, my descent from aficionado into wankerism became even more evident. Nothing but double IPAs. Nothing under 7.5%. Nothing with less than 300 different hops. At least they were all West Australian I justified to myself. The part about nothing but double IPAs is almost true, I did have half of carton of sours and a few ginger beers to spice things up. The growler full of a fruity, hoppy, hazy IPA was the icing on the cake. Alas, I was cornered and thirsty, surely I couldn’t drink the whole growler to myself. So, a double IPA it had to be and with no one to share it with, I was left to contemplate how the son of a brickie turned into such a well-rounded beer wanker. As an aside, I am going to start a parenthesis count for this post which you safely take as a sign of truly rambling mind.
it’s always a special occasion
From an early age I was always different, my friends and family will attest to that. Skipping, the childhood therapy session and cutting straight to the early days drinking beer (therapy in its own right), I have always been intrigued by the beers people weren’t drinking. Personally, I blame it on my Dad and watching him drink Crown Lager on special occasions. In my opinion, special occasion beers should be drunk all the time. After my first Crownie, I quickly realised what a mistake that was (at least its better than TED). Lucky, I had an older brother who put me on the straight and narrow. He introduced me to Tooheys Pils. I remember strutting into my first party with a six pack of this all malt pilsener experience. Forget all those hipsters drinking Export (which I don’t think had quite reached hipster status at this point) and party boys drinking Pulse RTDs, Tooheys Pils was the pinnacle. A heavy hitter at 5.2%, this fiery number got the better of me on many occasions.
embracing the ordinary
I am not 100% sure what happened to Tooheys Pils, did my taste buds change or did they stop selling it WA? I would rather not know the answer. Regrettably, I passed through a forgettable period of Tooheys New, Hahn SuperDry, James Boags exclusivity. I blame it on trying to appease my more boring, conventional beer drinking mates. Occasionally, if we were feeling exotic, we would buy Becks or Corona (on the rare occasion you could buy it for less than $55 per carton) Of course the inevitable Corona debate would ensue, was it better with lime, lemon or pure? If you were to ask me today, it all tastes like shit. Which also raises another point – why is it that every mass marketed beer exported by a country, rarely drunk in that country? Fosters anyone?
the price is right
At this point in my beer drinking career, I was a poor university student. Whilst forking out $55 for Corona made me feel like a boss, my mates and I decided to try UBrew-It. The sales pitch? Any style of beer you could dream of for a measly $20 per carton. Bargain, but multiple catches in doing so outweighed the monetary cost. Firstly, any style of beer basically meant any brand of lager. The second catch, one “brew” equated to 12 cartons of beer which, combined with the requirement of supplying your own beer bottles, equated to a decent quantity of preparatory drinking. Finally, the coup de grâce, all the beers must be drunk in one weekend before they turned sour. This fact was exacerbated by poor cleaning of the used preparatory bottles – uncontrolled mould and beer is an interesting combination. Needless to say, our UBrew It relationship did not last long (one too many nights of mould beer). Tail between my legs, it was back to rediscover some gems from the bottleshop.
a rapid descent
With the days of Tooheys Pils still firmly on my tongue, I dabbled in a few local pilseners, honey infused wheat beers and the odd summer ale. All well and good, until the day Little Creatures Pale Ale changed me forever. I will never forget my first pint inside the old crocodile farm turned brewery. A place of so many childhood memories, now an adult playground full of delicious nectar. From that point pale ales were in; forever. After a few months of contentment, I began feeling the itch. I had to discover more. The search for bigger and better pale ales drove me to a dark place as I was introduced to American Craft. Narrow alleys with bright lights; windowless rooms and long tables; a descent into money-draining madness. Beers so hoppy they literally burned a hole in my mouth. Hoptimum, that was the beer that brought me to tears. No apologies, this beer had transcended taste. It was a sign, brewers in America had reached the point where they no longer gave a fuck about what other people thought, they were clearly just brewing for the love of brewing. Obviously unafraid to try new and outrageous things. You could argue that’s the point we are at in Australia today.
the missed opportunity?
Looking at the success of the craft beer revolution in the USA, some mates and I decided we would start our own brewery. We had carefully selected a name, trialled several beer recipes, lined up a mentor/brewer and identified a nice little place down south we could access. We were about to place an order for a mini-brew kit from New Zealand when reality struck. At least two of us would need to quit our jobs while the others worked to fund the venture. After just entering the workforce after five and a half years of “hard” study, this was something none of us were prepared to do – and so the dream died in pursuit of climbing the corporate ladder. Who’s to say we would have been successful? Five years later and with the rampant multi-million buy outs of craft breweries, the decision not to pursue that dream is one that will haunt me for some time to come. Perhaps that’s the lesson in all this, don’t be afraid to follow your dreams, even if it takes you to the bottom of a beer can? Or is it, don’t let work get in the way of a good beer?
beerlosophy of life
After a solid career of drinking beer, friends and family know what to expect. Of course, I will be drinking something different – imperial, hazy, sour, farmhouse, barrel aged. I do it sometimes just to annoy my mates; the ones with mullets and beards and tattoos – hint, they’re not hipsters. But its more than that, I have come to realise that craft beer is an important philosophy of life. It’s the process of selecting a new beer that I enjoy (almost more than the drinking of the actual beer). Stepping into the unknown, moving beyond your comfort zone in the search for something truly life changing (am I still talking about beer?). Then sharing that discovery with those closest to you. Being vulnerable enough to say, this is what I like regardless of the backlash you may get from your friends and family. On the most micro and trivial of levels, it is a way to be courageous and I get genuine excitement out of sharing new beers with friends and family. The joy of watching my lager loving Old Man drink down a Hazy mango IPA is priceless. I recently took Dad to the bottleshop to fill up his own stainless-steel growler. Six tasters and several looks of disdain later, he ended up walking away with a six pack of Crownies. Some things never change, but the man knows what he likes. As for me, I will keep searching for my own special beer to share, remembering always the fine line that exists between courageous and reckless; philosopher and preacher; connoisseur and wanker.