The King of Beers: It’s not just a sobriquet
I’m hoping Kyle will forgive this post based on my use of one of his favorite 50-cent words in the title
When Kyle was stationed in Panama, he had a neighbor – another military officer – who taught him how to brew his own beer. His apartment was huge, with entirely tile flooring, and he had a housekeeper to clean up after him. Circumstances were ideal for starting a messy new habit such as brewing.
Then he moved back to the states, to a townhouse in Delaware with ample kitchen space and a wife who was only there on the weekends and so found brewing to be only a minor inconvenience.
By then, brewing was a well-entrenched pastime. The finished product was decent, if a bit inconsistent in carbonation (flat beer, ew), and all the necessary equipment had been procured. Kyle may not have been much for scrubbing out the bathtub, but he made sure that every last implement he used in brewing was sterile.
When preparing for our move to New York, I warned him that we would have a teeny tiny apartment; all of those unopened boxes that he’d carted from North Dakota to Ohio, from Ohio to Panama, and from Panama to Delaware, would either have to be opened and chucked, or just chucked outright.
He parted with a lot of long-held goods, I’ll give him that. But the brewing supplies were non-negotiable. They even came with us to our temporary apartment in Hackensack, which was actually another great place to brew considering what a shitbox it was.
He brewed in our teeny tiny Upper East Side apartment. He set up a batch to ferment while we went away for the weekend, and it bubbled over and spattered the desk, the lampshade, and the wall. He filled and capped bottles on the floor of our ten square foot kitchen.
He brewed in our somewhat larger Weehawken apartment. We had some crazy contraption anchored to the wall to hold the big vat of fermenting beer. He and Mayberry Mom’s husband brewed one night, and I don’t remember exactly what happened, but something big got broken.
Now we live in Colorado, where the very best beer is made (okay, I’m biased). I miss a few of my East Coast beers (most notably, Magic Hat #9), but when I can drink Skinny Dip in the summers and Fat Tire all year round, who needs to brew?
99 bottles of beer on the tree, 99 bottles of beeeeeer…
That tree of bottles has been sitting in the corner of my kitchen for at least a year. AT LEAST. If there’s anyone reading who has visited my home and remembers seeing those bottles prior to last October, please feel free to correct me.
I have to shoo CJ away from the bottles a few times a day. Frankly, I’m betting that I’ll be shooing Oliver away from those bottles before Kyle brews again.
I suppose there are worse items for a man to hang onto. As long as he keeps me in Skinny Dip, I won’t complain. Much.
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What’s your other half (or you!) hanging onto that really should be let go? Tell us about it this weekend in the latest and greatest PBN Blog Blast, and you could win a shopping spree from Bill Me Later. If it’s really heinous, you ought to go enter it in the Win-Your-Own Man Cave contest they’re hosting. They’ve got some amazingly cool prizes, like this one:
Dude, it’s a throne. A freaking $11K+ throne. I can’t believe I haven’t seen one of these babies installed in some record exec’s office yet.
October 17th, 2008 at 5:36 am
I’m not a fan of beer and only drink it when I’m having a sausage or bratwurst, but those are some good beers you listed. Any time I see people carrying Budweiser out of a grocery store I just cringe… Really, people? Don’t you want to taste what else is out there? For a few dollars more, there’s a whole other world of taste for your…taste buds to…taste.
FM had a kegerator until about a year before I moved in with him… His waistline begged him to get rid of it – not me.
Sorry – can’t think of anything that he is holding onto that should be chucked… I’m addicted to donating things to charity when I don’t want them any longer. Keep the house clutter-free! (A nice goal, anyway.)
Have a great weekend!
October 17th, 2008 at 5:57 am
I would kill to get some Magic Hat here in Minnesota. We bought cases on our honeymoon in Maine. But even better, my mom brought cases of Fat Tire back from Colorado last year for Christmas. I wouldn’t brew anymore if I lived in Colorado either. Or Maine.
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October 17th, 2008 at 7:35 am
[...] The King of Beers: It’s Not Just a Sobriquet [...]
October 17th, 2008 at 8:22 am
It wasn’t up when I was there last October. Hard to believe it’s been a year since my visit!
My husband’s pretty good at getting rid of things, I’m the one with the problem!
October 17th, 2008 at 10:13 am
I miss beer. Still nursing, no drinky. My husband is pretty good about getting rid of stuff, but for reasons unknown he will hold on to computer parts like his life depends on it. We have dismembered elements all over the office and basement: cd drives, keyboards, monitors, mice, wires, etc. It’s sort of like a computer graveyard.
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October 17th, 2008 at 10:47 am
Hmmm, what hoops would you have to jump through to be able to sell his beer online? I’d buy.
October 17th, 2008 at 11:21 am
I miss Fat Tire so much. I can’t find it here in Michigan, but I sure get them when we go back to Arkansas. My favorite mexican joint even keeps it on tap!
October 17th, 2008 at 12:42 pm
My husband is banned from reading this post, he doesn’t need these wild home-brew ideas in his head. Hats off to you tho’, b/c home brewing would drive me insane (mind you, I’d probably be too drunk to care).
katie ~ motherbumpers last blog post..why(ne)
October 17th, 2008 at 2:33 pm
Viva Colorado! Whats better than living in the biggest beer producing state? Living in a town that has (count them) 4 MICROBREWERIES OF ITS OWN…..(insert maniacal laughter)
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October 17th, 2008 at 3:11 pm
I will trade you one beer tree for one dancing, “Hail to the Redskins” singing bulldog dressed in maroon and gold. Just say the word.
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October 17th, 2008 at 4:12 pm
Ha! My husband started his own brewery back in February. I knew what you were getting at before I even started reading because I recognized the tree. Although he uses his pretty often, it’s still a new hobby. Call me in 10 years and we’ll see.
P.S. If he does decide to sell, give us a ring! We get shipments every week, and I’d rather give my money to the the mgm family that Midwest Brewing Supplies!
Amy Jos last blog post..Most Sincere
October 17th, 2008 at 4:55 pm
I’ll have a Magic Hat in your honor this weekend. Sounds like a great excuse to drink one. Or three.
And like Liz, I’ll happily trade you a Wally the Green Monster doll (Sox mascot) singing Sweet Caroline for the tree of beer.
Chicky Chicky Babys last blog post..Eat your heart out, Mia Hamm
October 17th, 2008 at 10:33 pm
Dude, that tree has been there FOREVER.
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October 18th, 2008 at 11:05 am
Well, don’t do anything with the tree now.
It’s almost Christmas.
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October 18th, 2008 at 6:55 pm
My ex used to brew. He belonged to the SLOBS – the San Luis Obispo Brewing Society. His brewing was mercifully problem free, but his friend Cliff made some beer. bottled it and stored it in his closet. Only problem was that it wasn’t quiiiiite finished fermenting. He came home one day to find bottle shards embedded in the drywall after they had exploded. Good thing no one was home and in that room.
October 19th, 2008 at 7:30 pm
I think the whole vat fell off the wall and spilled the half-fermented beer all over your floor. No wonder you blocked it out.
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October 20th, 2008 at 1:57 pm
I saw Christy already mentioned it but of all the thing we miss about living in CO, Fat Tire is in the top 3….we had some of the greatest microbrew beers EVER in that two years.
And the tree? You should so stick that out as a Christmas decoration. Nothing says “holiday cheer” like a beer tree.
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October 21st, 2008 at 6:42 pm
Nice beer tree, I always thought it should grow on trees. I remember spending the night at the house of a grad school friend. He’d taken his home brew from Cleveland to Athens and back. Apparently the trip shook things up and that night beer bottles were blowing their tops in the kitchen sending the cat into a frenzy!
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