Excuse Me. I'm a Beer Expert.

A Great Lakes Tale

I started this blog in February, at which point I didn’t know where I was going with it. Truth be told, I still don’t actually know where I’m going with it. I write when I feel inspired. Sometimes that inspiration hits, sometimes it doesn’t.

While I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to write about, I did know what I did NOT want to write about. Beer reviews, brewery visits and beer news weren’t even an option. There are a ton of other beer blogs out there that cover these things already. Some great, some not so great.

The other thing that I didn’t want to do was accept free beer, T-shirts or other swag in exchange for a positive write up about the brewery that provided me with said gifts. 

Integrity is VERY important to me.

Several weeks ago, I tweeted out my love for Great Lake’s Conways Irish Ale. 

I love that beer. That is the God’s honest truth. The day after I tweeted that, Great Lakes tweeted me back and asked me for my email address. Shortly after I provided it to them, I had an email in my inbox asking for my T-shirt size and home address. Three weeks later, a signed Great Lakes T-shirt with a hand written note showed up at my doorstep.

The thought never crossed my mind while I was corresponding with them that they sent this to me because I have a beer blog. It didn’t. As the weeks went on, I thought about it more and more. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they did send it to me because I have a beer blog and by chance, I may write something positive about them.

Most of the time I dismissed that thought. My site traffic isn’t that great. Logically it wouldn’t make sense for a brewery to send me anything. Barely anybody would read about the write up. But then again, who knows? In the wild wild west we call “The Internet” when something catches fire, the forest can be set ablaze almost immediately.

That brings us to this post and my inner struggle on whether to write something about Great Lakes. If you’ve been reading this blog by now you may have figured out that I write directly from my heart. It’s the only way I know how to write. People have always told me that I’m genuine. That means a lot to me.

So here it goes...

Great Lakes is not my favorite brewery. With that said, I don’t know what my favorite brewery is. I go back and forth week after week giving people different answers when they ask. Revolution. New Glarus. Alaskan. You get the idea.

Great Lakes is, however, one OF my favorite breweries. When I started drinking good beer 8 years ago, Great Lakes was one of the first breweries I was turned on to. To this day I still love Dortmunder Gold, Christmas Ale, and Blackout Stout. They are and always have been wonderful beers.

Is Great Lakes always in my fridge? No. NO brewery is always in my fridge. There are certain “styles” of beer that are always in my fridge (looking at you, Saison) but rarely do I always have something from any particular brewery. There is so much great beer out there that I try to spread around the love as much as possible.

And that is what I’ll continue to do. My purchasing of Great Lakes beer will not go up, but it won’t go down. I’ll continue to buy the beers I love from them every so often and try something new if anything they make catches my eye. I have always recommended the brewery and will continue to do so regardless of any outside influences.

To anyone reading this blog, please buy beer that you want to try. Never buy a beer just because someone else tells you to.

And if anyone from Great Lakes ever reads this, please know that I in no way, shape or form mean to disrespect you with this post. I love your brewery and am very thankful for the T-shirt.

Cheers!

Call Me Ishmael

I want something and I’m going to get it.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. The truck loads up mid-morning according to my sources. If I get out on the streets early enough I can probably hit all of the drop-off locations. That’s the plan, at least. And if everything goes according to plan, this could be one of the greatest scores in craft beer history.

Store One: One 4-pack.

It is the middle of the week, Wednesday. Normally I would be at work today, but this is too important. In life, you have to know what your priorities are. Mine is buying as much of it as I can. I am Ishmael searching for my great white whale.

Except I know where my white whale is. Sitting at a stop light on an early spring day, I follow behind the great white beast from store to store, hoping to get my fix. I am not alone in my quest. Like a funeral procession, two more cars follow behind me riding my bumper intently, not letting our lead vehicle get out of their sight.

Store Two: Two bottles.

Every so often, I get a glimpse of the driver’s face in his mirror. Wearing a blue hat and sporting a clean shaven face, he grins and shakes his head at me. He knows I am stalking him, following his every move. In most situations this would be illegal, but this is beer. Rare beer. All of the rules are out the window.

At every single store he pulls up front and parks. Getting out of the truck he waves at me, knowing full well why I am there. He walks to the side of the truck and lifts open one of the doors. I watch him as he lifts five cases onto a hand truck and brings it into the store. Before he enters, he winks at me, smiles again and disappears inside.

Store Three: Two 4-packs.

I’m in the next store. Act natural. People say that all of the time, but how do I really do it? Do I just continue looking at the bottles, pretending I’m interested in a purchase?

Blonde Ale. Brown Ale. Pilsner. 

Amateur beers. I can get these any day of the week. Do you know why? Because they aren’t good. They aren’t rich, full of flavor and impactful. No one brags about these rejects or travels at great lengths just for a sip. Anyone who is anyone wouldn’t care less if they weren’t on the shelf tomorrow.

They are...common. They are the salmon to my great white whale.

Store Four: One 4-pack.

The clerk knows why I am here. It’s clear that he isn’t stupid. He asks my name and if I’ve been to his store before. Lying is easy when you do it to get something you want. After a moment’s pause, he walks three steps to the right, bends down and picks up a case. He rings it up at the register and adrenaline starts racing through my veins.

Before he hands me the beer, he looks at me and asks how long I have been chasing the truck around today.

Chasing? I just stumbled in randomly I say.

He asks how many bottles I already have.

None yet.

Store Five: A CASE.

Craft beer is a competition.

I am winning.

Beer Snob of the Week