It was like a repeat of last weekend’s Saturday of the abiding meatness except with more meat. Fambily was over and one had to put on a show. So, there were sausages and steaks, smoked pork and ribs. Plenty and plenty left over for a rerun at lunch today. But something happened. Yesterday, I bought a bunch of cans of Spaten Original and a bunch of bottles of Dark Star’s Sunburst Golden Ale. Today I pulled out a growler of a hoppy IPA and then moved toward some sour beers. Yesterday, where there was glee and mucho tanks very much, well, today there was a decided but polite lack of interest. What to make of it?
The response reminded me of a creeping feeling I have had for a while – that we have come to an end of something. By this I mean that I have reached the end of most flavours available to be encountered in beer. Little secret: I have passed on double IPAs for at least a year now. And I like the sours fine but I really can’t find anyone around here to share them with – and it’s not like I want them all the time. Fruit beers have always, lets be honest, been a bit boring and disappointing. And only so many get to travel to Rome, San Fran or wherever for the perfect pub moment. It’s a creeping feeling. It’s all getting a bit like 1976 and we are all waiting for punk to get big next year.
Except that I don’t see anything being the big thing next. Heck, even the beer bloggers had to go to the peelers to get a little excitement going. I am starting to feel like the hundreds and probably thousands of different beers I have had over the years have either served the purpose or run the gamut. Is it a rut? Or is it the call of mixed drinks or even those swanky Italian soda pops? I mean, have you had chinotto?
I dunno – whatever it is, I think I want a new stout. Or maybe just that stout I had back almost seven years ago now. That was a good beer.