Converting Drinkers of Bad Beer

Rick Young
I am a beer snob. I'm unashamed and far from alone. The major breweries, like Coors, A-B, and Miller, have been consistently slipping in market share, and the local guys - brew pubs and micros, have been consistently gaining. There is more quality beer being produced locally, distributed nationally, and imported, than at any other point in history. Couple the increased availability with folk's increasing desire for variety in food and drink, and you've set the stage for modern discerning beer aficionados. I'm currently working in a deep corner of the beer industry, and interact with beer distributors all day. They are my employer's only customer base, so everyone in the building is steeped in beer, to the point that they bring it to us - at our desks. You'd think I'd be in heaven, but it's just not so. Because the big guys still hold most of the market share, everyone here is just pickled in Bud, Michelob, and Coors. Heaven help me! I've recently started working my magic, though, and have been slowly converting the weak-willed masses, one co-worker at a time.

It's pretty common instinct among lovers of good things to pooh-pooh the less desireable. Wine lovers might spend part of their conversation dissing box wine or Boone's Farm. Beer lovers, likewise, rarely gather without taking a moment to peer sadly at the guy at the end of the bar working on his third Mich Light. Among friends and fellow snobs, this is fine, but in hostile territory, talking loudly about how much shitty beer kicks around the place would just make me look like an ass. Subtlety, folks, subtlety. Instead of discussing shitty commercial beers versus tasty commercial beers, I spend my time around the beer cart talking about homebrew. Everyone respects the artisan, and sees the value in something made at home, even if it's dissimilar to what you buy in the store. I'll let slip about the tasty smoked porter I have on tap, mention that I intend to brew this weekend, or talk about my keggerator. Keggerators, by the way, are the great equalizer. Everyone loves keggerators. Before I knew it, folks were emailing me, asking how to get started. What should they brew? Where should they go for supplies? What would they need? Can they come over and help next time I brew? No one's brewing yet, but I know I've got them on the hook. When you make and bottle your own beer, there's a sense of pride, and if it's drinkable, no matter how different from the yellow piss-water you're used to, you get pretty psyched. Homebrewing is the back-door to beer conversion. If you brew a porter, brown, or stout - which you undoubtedly will at some point - you want to compare it to the commercial varieties. The more good beer you drink, even just to see how it compares to your homebrew, the more discerning your palate will become. Oh yes, I'm converting the masses. Next, I'll start sneaking a bottle or two of my own brew into the beer-fridge at work every week. I guarantee, by the end of my first year here, I'm gonna start seeing cases of Dogfish Head and Rogue appearing in the cooler.

Converting the weak is a case of keeping your snobbery close to the chest, having patience, and genuinely wanting folks to enjoy beer and brewing. It's good, solid, humanitarian work. Cheers!

Published by Rick Young

I'm a homebrewer, runner, writer, musician, scuba diver, lifelong learner, and jack of all trades living in the Green Mountains of Vermont.  View profile

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