Always Get The Local Beer: A Guest
I met Gaby Dunn when I was newly 18 and terrified of not making friends during my first week at Emerson College.
Gaby was spunky with long, wavy hair and a tie-dye shirt. Her dad looked like Eric Clapton and her mom used to send giant care packages filled with Easy Mac to the suite she lived in. We tried to blame our first alcohol violation on her 15 year old sister who was visiting from Florida in the fall of 2006 - The Resident Assistants didn't buy it.
Gaby is the type of person you always knew would do cooler things than you. She has the kind of drive and passion that comes from intelligence and a lifetime of pushing yourself. A little over a year ago Gaby told me about an idea for a blog. She was going to interview 100 types of people - people she had never met with stories she had never heard.
Shit, I thought... that's a damn good idea. Why the hell didn't I think of that?
And she did it. A year later, Gaby Dunn did something that most 20-somethings cannot say - she came up with an insightful and exciting idea, started it, stuck with it, finished it and created something truly amazing. A Village Voice award and a potential book deal later, Gaby is still running her site with a new, but familiar vision. After you are done reading this, check out 100interviews.com
And until then, enjoy a very special My Year in Beer exclusive from the one and only, Gaby Dunn.
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Sam Adams Boston Lager, Wachusett Blueberry, Harpoon IPA and Smuttynose IPA in Boston. Brooklyn Brewery in New York. Highland Gaelic Ale in Asheville, North Carolina. Abita Amber in New Orleans, Louisiana. Anchor Steam in San Francisco, California. Allagash White in Portland, Maine. Holy Mackerel in both Ft. Lauderdale, Florida and Greenville, South Carolina.
Whenever I’m in a new city, I always get the local beer.
No one ever told me to do this. It’s not something I read in a Zagat guide or saw on the Food Network. I’m not even a particularly good beer drinker, but I’m becoming a better one. About six months ago, I gave up drinking liquor because I realized that generally, the nights that ended in me black-out drunk and petting a police horse while screaming for my boyfriend to not let me forget that I was petting a police horse, always started with me ordering a gin and tonic.
In the absence of liquor, I now rely on beer and wine, both of which are delightful. With wine, I stick to the pinot noir no matter where I am. It’s simple, it’s tasty, it’s elegant and I heard Paul Giamatti wax poetic about it in Sideways. That movie was all about wine!
But with beer, I was at a loss. In college, my fake ID made me too nervous to get specific with an order. I’d always just stumble through, “Uh, right, yes. I will have one beer, please. Of whatever alcoholic beer you have cheapest, good tavern maiden. I am very familiar with beer ordering because I am obviously 24 years old! Wasn’t Saved by the Bell, a show we are both old enough to have enjoyed, hilarious? Okay, bye.”
My other options always sounded like lost ‘Harry Potter’ books: Natty Ice and the Mysterious Silver Keg! Then, I’d expelliarmus some vomit. Not ideal.
When I finally did turn 21, and could take my time with beer orders, I thought, like with agriculture or pizza delivery, why not strive for local.
It just feels respectful. If I’m visiting a city, I want to see all that city’s wares and goods. In New York, you get pizza. In Los Angeles, you get hamburgers. In Narnia, you get Turkish delights. And in a city that brews its own beer, I want to try that local concoction. In the past, exporting and importing were harder to do and so traveling to a new place often meant eating and drinking solely what was grown and brewed in that place -- even, and especially, if the fare was unfamiliar. I like that tradition of simplicity and adventure when it comes to beer.
You’re supporting local, smaller businesses. Since you’re in a place, you should support the economy by purchasing beers that recycle that money back into the city. It helps boost revenue not only for that particular bar, but also for the local beer-seller rather than some national chain with no stake in the city. That’s not beer knowledge, that’s just economic logic. If you consume that beer, it means the beer-seller will get orders for more! You’re, in a small way, creating job security. It’s a gesture made in an effort to get tanked, but it’s still a thoughtful one.
It feels fresher to drink. Again, I’m no beer snob, but this just seems logical. Corporate beer sellers have to package and ship beer from the city it was made in to the city it’s being sold in. That means the beer has to travel. I don’t have science to back this up but local beer probably ends up being sold quicker and while it’s fresher. It always tastes better to my untrained tongue because it’s brewed for that city, for that mood, to taste delicious under those exact circumstances. For example, even though Sam Adams is a nationally sold beer, I bet it tastes better to drink it just blocks away from the Jamaica Plain brewery (where PS: my mom got so wasted with me and my roommate one time that a friend had to pick us up in his car).
Other than with beer, I don’t usually restrict myself to local foodstuffs or agriculture. In the rest of my life, I’m too much of a forgetful mess. I’m not one of those perfectly-put-together vegan queens. I don’t own a backyard chicken farm. I don’t usually buy organic. I’m lucky if my lunch break consists of grapes and clam chowder from Au Bon Pain. And I get the plastic grocery bags every single time even though I promise myself that next time I’ll bring the canvas ones.
So I definitely don’t lecture other people on what beer they should get. Enjoy all the Bud Light Lime your heart desires. Class it up with a Stella Artois or a Miller High Life, the champagne of beers.
I worried about my intentions writing this piece, but if I was drinking the local beer to feel douchey and superior, wouldn’t I be bragging out loud about how well this Dogfish Head Punkin Ale goes with the assorted cheese plate? (Note: I have no idea what food goes well with pumpkin ale because I’m a human being and not Patton Oswalt’s character in ‘Ratatouille.’) Instead, the bartender is my secret keeper.
So I’m not a beer snob, a locavore or an animated rat. Sometimes you just do a little thing because, for a few reasons, it’s nicer.
Maybe my little thing can be your little thing? Always get the local beer.