I want to publicly apologise for spreading misinformation. I wish I could say “Ich habe es nicht gewusst”. But I committed this vicious act of deception in a rare moment of clearheadedness. I want to reiterate that you, my readers, are closer to my heart than my slim fit V-neck t-shirt to my nipples. You give me a sense of purpose in life. You’re the lemon to my tequila. You’re my everything. I know I didn’t visit a beer brewery with my accomplice. I know I instead participated in an online beer tasting. I know I broke your trust. Today is a black page in the history of 69 Dates. It will go in the books as the notorious “Beer brewerygate”. I’ll beer bear the burden of eternal shame, hoping for a glimpse of forgiveness and redemption. I’m terribly sorry for misleading you. But the beer tasting was not my idea though.
I could imagine myself living as a bobo. This would mean I’d spend my Saturday afternoon in a hand-made, design lounge chair reading my favourite lifestyle magazines. In an almost erotic way, I’d adjust my glasses, sip my whisky and smoke my cigar. Each time I’d lick my finger in not-so-sensual way before I turn the next page on my ethical and eco-friendly Fairtablet. Words like natural wines, mindful home brew, artisanal craft, slow travel, slow 100 metres sprinting, slow hand disinfecting bombard my eyes. I don’t believe the hype. But I notice that I sometimes only start to fancy someone after a longer period of time. Is this slow appreciation?
At first, I thought it’s simply because someone became more attractive such as acne that went MIA, cultivation of a sense of style, or the projection of confidence and joie de vivre. But the aesthetics of this beer-loving lady stayed more or less the same in my eyes. Slow appreciation probably also has to do with practical reasons: becoming single, appearing on my social media feed, a state of boldness, boredom, the constellation of the stars, a book that I read etc. There’s no consistency in when and why my taste changes. That’s fine. You don’t need to understand how a dish is cooked to appreciate how tasty it is. Just say it’s magic.
We had a very talkative beer master. He clearly knows his shit. All the information, facts and figures. It’s interesting but it doesn’t matter. In the end, all that matters is that you either like the beer, or not. The rest is just filling, bobo-talk. The experience might change with more logic and rationality but the visceral taste stays the same. It’s easy to confuse taste and experience. You don’t and shouldn’t like a beer more because you know it’s alcohol percentage or a certain hop is added. A pure appraisal of beer is difficult, let alone a potential mate. But the purer the taste, the better the experience.
I know you’re all dying to know which beer we liked the most. Well, it was Atrium Selva, a Belgian double IPA with guarana. 8,9%, bitter but sweet.
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