Miller Lite in a can.

Yeah, I’d say that’s about right. I must have been not even ten years old when the love of beer struck me square in the face. Am I the product of bad parenting? Maybe, but if that’s the case, I probably drove them to it. Regardless, after begging to taste whatever the grown-ups were drinking one balmy summer day, my request was granted.

Looking back, I realize that the purpose of this exercise was to sour my outlook on beer in hopes that I’d never ask for it again. At present, it seems to have had the opposite effect.

I’ll never forget the unique flavor qualities it possessed: bubbly, grainy, and unlike anything I’d ever tasted. Years later, a trip to the Busch Gardens theme park in Williamsburg, Virginia, afforded me the opportunity to tour the nearby Anheuser-Busch brewing facility. At such a young age, I was fascinated by this beverage that I wasn’t allowed to have, the intriguing processes that created it, which, in turn, made me all the more curious.

My urge to taste more beer didn’t culminate until years later, however. Whether it was a party or just an evening spent with a small group of friends, beer was sometimes available. We weren’t tipping back tulip glasses filled with your finest Old Ale, pinkies extended; it was more like drinking straight from a bottle of Yuengling, and eventually, graduating to Boddingtons and Guinness into pint glasses.

The latter three seem to be the main culprits that turned me onto better beer. After having rudimentary experience with various run-of-the-mill American macro lagers, Yuengling opened my eyes to a dash of flavor, a wholly different take on what an easy-drinking beer could be. Then, Boddingtons and Guinness helped me see the nuances of body and beer style, two exotic brews from distant lands.

Better still, some of my friends were eventually old enough to buy beer before I was. I can recall prom night, which had later been enhanced by bottles of Delirium Nocturnum and Reissdorf Kölsch in the company of friends. There were occasions when a longtime buddy from the neighborhood would pick up strange bottles featuring Germanic font, like Franziskaner Dunkel-Weisse, and this enticed me to learn more about what we were drinking as we whiled the nights away with our group of friends.

When able to peruse the beer aisle of a store, I was able to read some labels, find out more information on a beer, and have someone eventually pick it up for me. Now, of course, I can do this on my very own, and this manner of beer exploration still continues to this day, thanks to the help of beer lovers around the world on the internet, in addition to knowledgeable shop-keeps. Essentially, that’s what I did: discover better beer my own way, with a little help from my friends. Sure, there were the tip-offs about what would be a good beer to buy, but a lot of that may have been based on alcohol content. No matter, I discovered what I liked through trial and error, often times urging others in my circle to branch out as well.

Nevertheless, beer with slightly higher alcohol by volume began my foray into the world of Belgian and American craft beer. For me, it was the taste that clinched it, because trust me, I’m no stranger to Steel Reserve, but I’m not eager to get reacquainted with it anytime soon.

 

A tip o’ the hat to Boak and Bailey for hosting this month’s Session. By the way, this is also my 100th post. For those who’ve been reading this thing for a while, sorry for wasting your time like that.