Beer in Context
Beer tasting: All in the mind?
Posted by: John Chandler on Jun 06, 2011 at 11:00AM
6 Comments
For my birthday last month, a coworker thoughtfully presented me with a 40-oz bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon, ‘cause, you know, I like beer. Hey, I love gifts as much as the next guy, but this one posed a problem. See, at the time I was working furiously on Portland Monthly’s summer beer feature for the July issue. This means I was really, really concentrating on things like flavor profile, body, color, and aroma; attributes that one must carefully consider when evaluating a complex array of craft beer. Anyway, I figured a 40-dog of Pabst was likely to fry my delicate palate, so I tucked the monster in the fridge to be unsealed at some point in the future.
Last weekend while rifling the fridge for snack candidates, I found the 40 lurking in the vegetable keeper (Whattaya think I keep in there? Vegetables? Hahahahahahahahahaha!) next to a mysterious bag of radishes. And I got to thinking about beer in context: I’ve never, ever, been a beer snob. I will happily drink what’s put in front of me, whether it’s saison or swill. Sure, my soul prefers complex and elusive tastes that flitter about my mouth teasing and tormenting my taste buds with hints of this and suggestions of that. But does that mean I can’t guzzle an American lager when it’s offered to me? Nonsense. If I’m invited to a barbecue and there’s nothing to wash down the grillings other than Bud Light, I’ll man up. When I go (strip) bar-hopping in the wilds of Gresham, I don’t turn my nose up at a frosty Miller High Life. In these instances, my mind is on other things and the beer is relegated to a supporting role.
So, in the interests of science, I decided to see if I could enjoy a PBR in a different context. Instead of passively sipping it while watching hoops (supporting role), I poured out a healthy dollop into one of my fancy glasses to dress it up a little, and give it a serious flavor evaluation. It’s as if I slapped my taste buds around and announced to them, “Pay attention you guys!” The result? In this case the taste was nearly invisible. It barely registered a blip on the radar. My taste buds, prepared for an arduous test of their talents, were underwhelmed and promptly sent an angry letter to my brain that read, “You woke us up for this?”
Later that day, while watching the NBA Finals, the remaining PBR served me well, acting as an amiable, well-behaved companion, while my attention was focused elsewhere. The point I’m trying to make is about context. Are mass-marketed suds best savored when distracted? Or broke? Is it even fair to compare them with quality (and spendier) offerings from BridgePort or Hopworks? Or is it more like The Three Stooges vs Fellini? Sometimes thinking and drinking don’t mix, and anything wet will do the trick.
Your thoughts drinking buddies?
the only time I will drink / enjoy that kind of beer is icy cold, fresh out of the cooler, on a 90+ degree day, after I’ve cleared the last class IV rapid.
I have a friend from Michigan who won’t allow that stuff in his house, no matter what. I on the other hand can support context as a guide for drinking choices. Who among us has not had a low-brow something-or-other whilst on a sad and sorry budget? Yep. We all have. What of it?
Any beer cold out of a keg on a hot summer day is good beer. Otherwise, quality is a must.
I cut my teeth on watery American domestics, and while I’ve (mostly) moved on to heartier craft-brewed fare (thanks mostly to living in Portland), every brew I imbibe doesn’t have to be 5-star for me to enjoy it. Much of my enjoyment of our local fare comes from a desire to support area businesses while at the same time giving my taste buds a workout. But sometimes, a light crisp lager hits the spot.
As micro-brews become less micro and more successful, they tend to taste more generic and boring. Maybe it has to do with batch size. But more likely they just get bought up by the corporate big boys and have their recipes compromised, yet we keep buying it for the label. I remember distinctly the day that Full Sail changed from a lip-smacking malty refreshment to a thin skunky gruel, but I drank it anyway because I had paid for a Full Sail, dammit! It has never gone back to how it was before.
But X, Full Sail is employee owned! And I would argue that their current batch of summer seasonals are dang yummy.