A thesis statement from the author

In the summer of 2015, after much dittling and dattling, I made the rash decision to study to be a beer sommelier. I can sit here and list off a myriad of reasons: it's a growing field and with the current culture's focus on beer as a connoisseur's beverage, the world is in need of more Michael Jackson figures (of the beer and whiskey fame, not the white gloved guy) to help orientate people towards maximum enjoyment of this once and still marginalized drink; as a waiter, I feel it is important to be able help my guests make informed choices of the right style to pair with their food; I have multiple wine sommelier friends and I wanted to be one of the cool kids, etc. In reality, my decision had little to do with my career or any lofty ambitions of bettering society through beverage. I just love beer.

The main question is: does being a beer sommelier enrich my life?

It may be considered a poor decision to throw down a pile of money (the amount of which I will not disclose), then dedicate months of your life to nothing but learning about BEER of all things, merely as a hobby. A beer sommelier is nothing more than a professional snob. A nose-raised expert. A know-it-all with a certificate (as of writing, has still not arrived in the mail...). It is a designation that holds no weight in my current job. As a manager of a TGI Fridays, it really doesn't matter that I can explain the differences between Flemish red and Oude Bruin, when all we serve is seven different varieties of light lager. But honestly, I don't really care. I haven't made a single decision for the the advancement of my career in over eight years and I don't plan to start now. (for more information on this aspect of my life, visit my other blog: http://aaronaaa.blogspot.no )

Sure. I guess.

When I drink a beer, I have a pretty good guess of the style, how it was made, which kinds of yeast, hops, and malts were used (At least to general sense. Though, contrary to what most people think, a beer sommelier has little involvement with brewing, even though I've been a home brewer for eight years), and a few food dishes that might taste good with it. I'm still a novice in the field, so I can hardly call myself an “expert” (I read a lot, though, and will list references where applicable). Does it make the beer taste better to know all these things?

Not really. But it makes things a bit more fun.

So, if I can't use this for my job. If it doesn't change the nature of my drinking experience, then why did I do it?

Sorry, I don't have a good answer, but if somebody asks me, I'll probably recite the intro paragraph to this essay.

In general, beer is a beverage that is accepted as lowbrow (I prefer the word democratic). The situation may be different in other places, but up until the last few years, the United States didn't really care too much about beer or how it tastes. Taste was actually considered a detriment to beer. Beer was a intoxicating beverage for the long haul. It was meant to be consumed quickly and cold and be as water-like as possible. Even my parents—who I like to regard as somewhat classy—bought cheap swill by the case. Some of these same attitudes exist today, though we thankfully have more choices of style. Sadly, even with prominence of craft breweries, many people still don't bother to TASTE their beer. It is slurped down, guzzled, shot-gunned, keg stood, beer bonged, etc.

That soon-to-be man in the middle with the awesome hair was me ca-2000.  Observe how much I love beer. Also, to any Germans that recognize the label, I'd love to know what it is.

I tried my first beer at 17 in Germany and I probably would have loved the watered-down American stuff much more than what I had, which was probably a rich German pilsner. There is photographic evidence, though I don't recognize the label. I drank it anyway, beer and wine being the only two things I could legally drink there. The first night I enjoyed the flavor was at a karaoke bar near Treptower Park in Berlin. The beer was Bitburger. I began the night ordering a “klein bier”. It was bitter and sharp and I had to choke it down (I much preferred the schnaps shots the bar was dishing out for free), but sometime after our rousing version of “99 Luftballoons”, yet before the bar became alight with a sea of lighters during “Stairway to Heaven”, I had switched to “gross bier” and found the taste anything but.

In my youth, I knew nothing of the diverse offerings of the world. The fruity and acidic beers of Belgium. The nutty, smooth beers of England. Or even the citrus punch of an American IPA. I only knew the slightly-bitter German-influenced beer that showed up at kegger parties.

When I was in college, I'll admit to buying the cheapest thing that came in a 40oz, but that was a product of economy. Beer was fine, but I didn't like it. It was an alternative to whatever spirit and juice cocktail I slurped down most nights ($7 liters of vodka was a wiser choice when you only made $5.75 an hour.)

It wasn't until I could buy the stuff legally that I realized there were different kinds. Like most, I started experimenting with Guinness, which I prided as my snobby option at parties, but ultimately, I remained a liquor or cheap wine guy until I graduated from college. I was forced out of my full-time student job as a cafeteria manager and was forced to take five part-time jobs instead.

One was a clerk at a liquor store and the other as a cook at Stub and Herbs, the best tap house on the East side of campus at the time. John, the bar manager, was a smart guy, he jumped on the craft wagon in the early-2000's. When Surly started up, John was one of the first takers of their hop-bomb, Furious. He was also clever in that he knew that employees could easily be customers. He offered two free beers for every shift worked. So he started giving me the tour of his 30 or so taps and I started tasting things I never knew was possible for beers. I quickly took to high-IBU brews after trying Victory Hop Devil. It was an assault on the palate, so bitter and floral, it made my mouth implode. I loved it. By the end of that summer, my favorite beer was Rouge's Dead Guy Ale, which still holds up (when I can find it).

So what was the point of that long story? Well, I love beer, can't I tell the story of how this love came to be? You'll listen to how people met their wives.

Yeah, those are usually boring too.

Hey, speaking of that, did I ever tell you the story of when I told my wife I first loved her? She bought me tickets to a beer fest, held outside in the middle of winter. It was -15F, even the heavy beers were ice cold. My wife claimed to not like beer, but I kept finding more and more varied things to try. She didn't like any of them, so I was forced to drink double. By the end of the night, in rash moment of drunken judgment, I proclaimed my love while waiting to pee at Subway. (I can't believe I told a woman I loved her after learning that she didn't like beer.)

There is a point to this. Beer is incredibly varied and fun to drink and one should never ever claim they don't like beer, just because Miller Lite tastes like dirty water. You gotta find your John at Stub and Herbs to direct you through the gauntlet. I intend this blog to do just that. There will be tips on how to taste beer, how to properly serve it, food pairings, recipes for both food and beer, history, stories, tasting notes, recommendations, even some travel writing, and much much more. Maybe you'll be like my wife and will decide even after a kriek that, no, you don't like beer. But maybe, just maybe you'll find yourself like me, a professional beer snob with a certificate (pending).