A small, but sweet, moment of vindication over the weekend.
I am often mocked by my friends for liking warm, flat beer. Of course, I consider it my duty as an Englishman to mock them right back. With the honorable exception of some excellent micro-breweries, American beer is utterly without character. I’m talking here of the Budweisers, Coors, and Millers of this world. (Scandalous stuff around these parts, since Budweiser is based in St. Louis – even if the company is now owned by – whisper it – foreigners.)
By and large, as long as it’s cold and fizzy, people don’t seem to care what their beer tastes like – which, on the whole, is just as well. I have long maintained that in fact most American beer doesn’t taste of anything at all – an unpopular opinion, but one which is now backed up by empirical evidence.
There we were, in the parking lot of Memorial Stadium, tailgating before the MU football game (note to English readers: yes, I’m afraid this means American football. But don’t worry. I’m OK.) I was talking with three friends, all of whom were drinking American beer (I was not.) Then I noticed what they were actually drinking: one had beer with added lemon and lime; one had beer with added tomato juice (really); and the third had beer with added pomegranate and cranberries. In other words, not one of them was drinking un-messed with beer. Why are these poor people forced to drink these god-awful sounding concoctions? Obvious, really: because the beer itself doesn’t taste of anything.
Ha. QED. Case closed, etc.
Right. Let the bottle-throwing commence.