Evolution of a beer snob

I was probably under 10 years old when I had my first sip of beer. I’d see my parents and my friends drinking cans of Old Style every weekend and figured a beverage that was drunk in such mass quantities MUST be like the nectar of the Gods. Um, no. No. No. NO. 

I remember taking that sip and being utterly disgusted, looking at my parents like there was something mentally wrong with them. They laughed, thinking they accomplished their mission of grossing me out enough to prevent me from drinking beer on my own. 

I’ve never come around to Old Style, which, to me, tastes like somebody put urine in a tin can and brewed it for decades. The old school Chicagoan in me can certainly enjoy ounces and ounces of the brew while sweating at a Cubs game, but it’s nothing I would ever, EVER order on my own. My parents and their friends eventually came to their senses and the entire crowd made the switch to Miller Lite.

And for me, Miller Lite had been my beer of choice for years. It took only a few nights of paying for mixed drinks at U of I to realize I could, in fact, train my palette to at least tolerate beer. I quickly rose within the ranks of the beer world; starting with your staple party (cheap) beers (Busch Lite, Milwaukee’s Best) to realizing I was worth the extra few bucks for the case of Miller Lite.

From 18 to 26 or so, I exclusively drank Miller Lite. And it worked out well. If my parents had a party, they had fridges filled with Miller Lite. My friends drank Miller Lite. And those who didn’t drank Bud Lite, which, for me, was a fair and tasty comparison. I dated a guy who worked for a beer distributor, and he drank Miller Lite (and gave me lots and lots of Miller Lite shirts, neon lights, coozies, etc. to sport).

It wasn’t until I lived in Fort Wayne that I began to dabble in other beers. There’s an Irish pub there, J.K. O’Donnell’s, that has a great craft beer selection. As is still the case, I’d pick a beer mentor and have them choose a beer for me to order. As is also still the case, I couldn’t tell you if I liked wheat beers, IPA’s, stouts, pale ales, etc. I like what I like, and I typically don’t pay attention to the intricacies of what I’m drinking enough to remember it the next time around. I’ll certainly remember certain brands of beers that I enjoy, but I couldn’t tell you my favorite brew style.

It was at J.K. O’Donnell’s that I found what is still my all-time favorite beer: Old Engine Oil. Sounds gross right? Well, it’s very dark and thick with a tiny hint of chocolate. But not sweet. J.K’s charges around $8 for a pint, which isn’t too bad considering one bottle at Binny’s is $3.99.

I can point to Old Engine Oil as the beer that changed my mind about craft beer. I slowly tried other beers: Blue Moon, New Castle, Bass, Dos Equis (I realize none of those are craft beers but they were my gateway beers on my journey from Miller Lite to Better Stuff). And my Chicago friends helped. I realized while I was gone, everybody had turned into a beer snob. Much of that credit is to Matt and Alyssa, who opened everybody’s eyes to the world of craft beer. They had a few Beer School parties, where everybody was instructed to bring beer that fit a theme (Great Lakes beers or beers with animals on the label) which allowed me to try a bunch of different beers I never would buy on my own.

I went to the Chicago Beer Festival in Union Station this weekend, ready to taste 100 beers from brewers around the country. Before it started, Meghan and I met at a bar to have some pre-drinks. And something happened. Meg said she was going to stick with light beer so she wouldn’t be too full for the festival. I followed suit and ordered a Miller Lite. And … I just can’t anymore. It tasted terrible.

Which is too bad. Because aside from the Magic Hat and Fat Tire in my fridge, I have a ton of Miller Lite. Most of that is for when my parents come over but it's also partly because I used to really enjoy a nice, cold Miller Lite. I’ll have to save it for a hot day or for when I’m so drunk on good beer, I won’t know the difference. 

Meg and I pre-fest.

This guy was unironically wearing a PBR shirt at a craft beer fest. Delicious.