Derby and Beer

Yesterday was the Kentucky Derby back home. This is the first year that I haven't been around to celebrate with friends, and it was kind of hard to wrap my head around the experience. That's not because I was lonely or bored. I couldn't wrap my head around it, because I had wrapped my head around trying some of the canned beer I found.

Ever since college, when I wrote a paper on the history of Louisville Breweries, I've been fascinated with regional beers, from the expensive microbrews to the inexpensive, aged

macrobrews. In Louisville, Falls City was the last holdout of the regional macros. And when I got into this phase of wanting to "taste historical beer," I bought six packs of the beer for as long as I could (until the beer lost its contract with the brewery that had been making and distributing it).

Here I am enjoying it at a tailgate with friends.

Throughout college and ever since, I've tried to find new beers wherever I go. Like I said before, sometimes macro-, sometimes micro.

My dad says I get this from my grandfather, who always had some sort of regional lager in his workshop beer fridge. I think some of that trickled down to my dad, too, because even though he keeps solid craft beers in his beer fridge, he always has some Busch Light there, too.

Anyhow, since I've been here in New Jersey, the doors to Pandora's Box have been re-opened for me. There are loads of new beers up here for me to try, and loads of old, regional beers that the locals have successfully hung on to.

Yesterday, I had my obligatory bourbon, but after that I felt like a change of pace. I didn't want any of my hefeweizens or ales or other complex beers. I just wanted to indulge in the basics. So that's what I did. On my last trip to the liquor store, I scored six packs of some beers I hadn't seen outside of this region.

And I couldn't just let them sit in the beer fridge for too long! So I had a sampling of what some refer to a "yard beers." I don't know if that designation came because they taste so good after working hard in the yard, or if because you can drink them by the yard without ever filling up (which was my experience yesterday and into last night).

Schaefer's I had before, and its a solid, corn-y traditional lager. I like to refer to these as "working man's beers." And Schaefer fit that mold pretty well. Carling Black Label was really smooth, and not as watery as the other offerings. Gennessee is kind of flat. Nothing terrific or terrible about it. And Schmidt is kind of bad. Hate to say it. However, none of these are tremendous by any means. They're all just....you know....they're THERE.

Of course, there's no comparing ANY of these working class beers to the King and overall mack daddy Beer Supreme: the one and only Champagne of Beers, Miller High Life!

Pat and I drank so much of this in college that I'd say it probably constitutes 25% of the liquid in my body to this day. If you cut me, my blood probably has a hint of the delicious nectar that is High Life. Hell, I should give credit where credit's due, Miller High Life got me into and out of loads of sticky situations! I wouldn't be who I am today without it. Considering my brain floats in a juicy High Life concoction up in my noggin, it wouldn't be fair to try and compare this to any other beer. Sorry.

That being said, yeah, I'll probably bring some of these new regional beers home with me the next time I'm headed to Kentucky, just to share with everyone else. The entire situation reminded me of the Blind Beer Taste Test that the guys and I did a couple years ago. It would be interesting to see how these beers would stack up against the others we had.

The only drawback from trying these beers is the blowback. And by "blowback," I mean I've been farting uncontrollably. And the hits keep coming. Any guy that went to college and enjoyed beer has heard an attached legend to whichever beer they adventured with the most. My dad has stories about Schlitz, Blatz, and Pabst, each one referencing the type of damage the beer inflicts on one's guts. And today I'm suffering from over-exposure to "working man's beer."

When I get into the passionate throes of experimenting with liquor, there's always a consequence attached. Last night I passed out on the living room couch waiting for SNL to come on. I woke up sometime around 3 a.m., probably surprised by the volume of my own fart. Its gross, but that's life in "the biz."

However, I'll perservere. For science!