On Beer, and the Drinking of It.

There are things about myself I’ve come to terms with as I’ve gotten older. One of those is that I’m something of a homebody. If I wasn’t coaxed out by my friends, it’s likely I’d spend most of my weekend nights tucked up in bed with my Netflix queue and a glass of red wine.

So it was only after a little urging that I decided to join my roommate K and her boyfriend B at their favorite beer joint tonight. The first time they encouraged me to join them there, I was somewhat skeptical. As a total wine snob (a status I come by honestly thanks to my parents), I don’t profess to be well-informed when it comes to the world of craft beer. K and B, however, are total connoisseurs. They can wax poetic for hours on the difference between a stout, a sour, and a quality IPA.

After my first beer experience by their sides, I’ve been easily persuaded ever since. There’s something fun and a little quirky about analyzing the flavors of beer as I would a fine wine. About picking out the chili, coffee, chocolate flavors of a stout, or the tart raspberry notes of a well-crafted sour. In addition to picking up the flavor profiles, I’ve learned a lot about the methodology and artistry of beer making. Over time, I’ve come to enjoy a variety of decadently delicious beer offerings.

So, tonight’s post may not be a great treatise on society, but it’s true: I’ve come to love good beer. I’ve come to love it so much that I debate whether or not to buy a good beer or a good wine at the liquor store. Many thanks to K and B for once again messing with my discretionary budget in a super fun way. Sorry for the short post, but I was having fun out in the world tonight; sometimes, that’s just what a Friday night should be.

Allagash Stout.
Decadence, thy name is beer.

— S

Day 47: February 17, 2017

 

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