I grew up in Southern California, the son of educators who also happened to be wine lovers. My home was one of appreciating the good things in life, but frugally. In addition, expression and communication were considered crucial to a successful life. Writing, clear speaking, and clear conveyance of ideas were expected and demonstrated. Fast forward to college; I arrived in Sonoma County, surrounded by wine again. But I also discovered that there was more in the beer world than Keystone Light and Budweiser: there was Craft Beer. From my first taste of Guinness Stout, I knew I could never go back to keg parties and beer-bongs. Well, not completely, anyway. Then I had my beer epiphany when I tried every Rogue beer the store had – there was so much more out there! The more I explored the world of Craft Beer, the more I began to realize how little I knew. Different hops, grains, yeast… it was an amazing world of alchemy and magic to me. I began brewing my own beer finally, using the basic kit from a store, and brewed a weak, overly malted brown liquid that was STILL better than what was served at so many of the parties I had attended. I tried again and the next one was better, so I knew it was just a matter of time before I got something really special. At the same time, I kept my “research” going. IPAs gave way to barleywines which gave way to outlandish chilli and smoke infused brews that would make your eyes water. But the fact that they even existed was wonderful to me. I love the adventure of finding new Craft Beers, and them sharing them with as many people as I can.
Along the way, I have always been a writer. From bad, angst-ridden adolescent poetry in middle and high school, to my seemingly-never-to-be-finished novel, writing has always been a part of who I am. When I found the chance to combine my two passions, I jumped at it.
You can find my other musings about beer and beer-related topics on these sites:
The Story of “Beer for the Daddy”
The phrase “Beer for the Daddy” might seem like an odd one to some; to others it’s a no-brainer. But the origin – at least in this case – comes from flightless birds, parental responsibility, and the mouths of babes.
In 2005, a documentary film called March of the Penguins was released to critical acclaim, becoming the second-highest grossing documentary film of all time (the first being Fahrenheit 9/11). It is the story of the emperor penguins of Antarctica, and the difficult conditions they live and survive under. Beautifully filmed and wonderfully narrated by Morgan Freeman (in the American version), viewers are treated to a stunning and moving experience unlike any other.
And as far as this blog goes, none of that matters.
You see, we (my wife and sons and I) rented March of the Penguins later that year and watched it together. We loved it. The story was engaging, the images were brilliant. We got to the part where the male penguins were huddled together protecting the eggs. The females are off on their epic journey to feed and then travel back to regurgitate for their newborn young that the father’s are now caring for. The narrator says something along the lines of “and the mothers arrive back with the fish for their babies.” Without missing a beat, my youngest son – age 3 at the time – said very matter-of-factly “…and beer for the daddy?”