When a husky, bearded American tells you he likes craft beer, he is most likely referring to craft ale. While high-end lager has recently started to make modest inroads (particularly pilsner), the good-beer renaissance of the past three decades has revolved almost exclusively around ales.
Because the medium-sized city in which I live never passes up an opportunity to be a self-parody of limousine-liberal gentrification, there are three Whole Foods outlets within reasonable walking distance of my apartment. I always go to the same one, though, because it's the closest, and also the smallest.
The Boston Beer Company confounds me. I do like their most famous and best-selling beer, Samuel Adams Boston Lager: It's a seminal brew in many a Masshole's drunken coming of age, mine included, and a large, unbalanced load of the Internet holds this fact against us. I can't swing a dead Yuengling around here without…
After spending the last few millennia in aggressive pursuit of leisure and convenience, mankind—by which I mean a vocal minority of reasonably well-off people who are bloggers or my friends—has started voluntarily emulating a dirtier, more troublesome era when we had to make things for ourselves.