Hoppy Father’s Day

There truly is nothing like a good craft beer.

From the hefeweezers to the dopple whatsits, beer has become, in the last 2 decades or so, an exotic paradise of imbibing excess.

In any event, while I like craft beers, I can’t help wondering what the old guard thinks…my dad’s generation.

They drank Schlitz, man…Falstaff, Iron City, Blatz…masculine beer names…they didn’t haven’t time for this hefeweasel crap – give ‘em a Rolling Rock, with a Jack chaser and they were good to go.

And they’d order said suds at places with monikers like “Joe’s Bar”, or “Willie’s Place”, or…as found in many cartoons…“Bar”. Oftentimes, these classic beers of yore were chasing down fine epicurean delicacies like pickled eggs, pork rinds, pig’s feet and Slim Jims.

Today though, we’re all out there slugging…er…sipping ‘properly’ crafted WeisenstockenFauxBrauBock and picking at ‘small plates’ of deviled Irish quail egg whites with balsamic reduction.

All this, in upscale urban breweries, often marketed squarely at the über flighty, hipster demographic. You know, the kind that rewards you with long-term customer loyalty…uh…not.

Anyway, I feel like I’m lettin’ my Dad down (and all dads out there) when I partake of craft brews. It feels like, as a card-carryin’ guy (and I do have a card) I should be honoring the brewing traditions set forth by all the men of yesteryear.

Of course, slide a Great Lakes Christmas Ale in front of me and suddenly the guy credentials fly out the window.

I’m not proud.

As an aside (insert touchy-feely music, here) it IS Father’s Day, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to pause and remember my Dad.

He was all Johnny Carson cool, an Akron, Ohio shit-kicker, who was as charming and outgoing as he was humble and self-effacing. One of the funniest guys I ever knew, he simply loved (no, gulped) life and left us all way, way too goddamn soon.

I miss him every day.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad, wherever you are. Love you.

And not to end this thing on too maudlin a note, he drank Stroh’s, which, in my humble opinion, tastes like crap.

He also loved braunschweiger and mustard sandwiches (shudder), but that’s for another post.

So, to all the dads out there – enjoy a cold one and have a Happy Father’s Day!

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