Are you a creature of craft beer habit?
Without beer, the world would be a very different, empty place. People would resort to fermenting tea bags, or adding hops to fruit juice, or something. Thankfully, that twisted vision of humanity doesn’t exist (although hopped fruit juice sounds good, come to think of it). Yet whilst you're enjoying your chosen malt-led craft beverage, what else are you doing at the same time? Chances are you're sitting – or at the weekend, standing – in a bar; or maybe you're in your opulent home sipping a beer in your velvet tasting lounge (or slumped against the fridge door; whatever works). Aside from the actual tasting and enjoyment of the liquid, though – what else are you up to; and does it ever vary?
What are your craft beer habits?
Moving away from beer for the moment (we'll return in due course, don't worry - it's still within eyeshot) every single person who walks this earth is a creature of habit, to some extent. We all have routines that we adhere to, even subconsciously. Walking on the same side of the street on the way to work, for example. Always getting the same sized trolley in the supermarket. Stopping to scan restaurant menus as soon as you spy the phrase 'extra chillies'. Habits reflect your personality, they shape your mannerisms, and thereby friends and neighbours associate you with them, and them with you; "That noise we've been hearing outside dear, the one that sounds like a buffalo being given a vasectomy? Turns out it's just Roger from number eleven coming back from his Tuesday speed-walk."
So what about when it comes to beer? How do your beery mannerisms exert themselves? One of the most common traits that people tend to have is the concept of the 'favourite seat'; as you peel back the door of your local BrewDog bar, your eyes flick instantly to your spot, to see if someone has had the temerity to occupy it. Even before you glance up at the beer board, the first look is to check if the favoured seat is free, and whether you can claim it for the evening (or afternoon and evening, if truly committed). If you're unlucky, it's a long night spent pining in the direction of where you'd rather be, knowing someone else has that optimal position for bar, toilet and wifi-signal access.
If you're doing your imbibing at home, barring a sofa-blocking four-legged friend, you should of course be guaranteed your favourite seat on every drinking occasion (and there's always the 'fake walkies' move to get the faithful bugger out of the way for a few, key, seconds). In your house, amidst a level of comfort you've spent months, years or even a lifetime honing, the beery routine might involve always drinking out of your favourite glass, for example. Or using the same bottle opener. Perhaps you even have the beers arranged in the fridge or cupboard in order of style. Maybe you can't get to sleep unless all the labels are perfectly aligned, and get up every hour to check? (No judgements here)
It could be, though, the only craft beer habit that you possess is simply a burning desire not to have any. To be free, to live vicariously and burn through every single beer out there, however it comes. Freestylers don’t give a fig about specific barstools, perfectly-matched glassware, or moody cocker spaniels. They inhabit the other end of the spectrum - to these people beer is something that’s spontaneous and life-affirming, not part of a controlled, comforting series of mannerisms. After all, the reason we love trying so many different beers is to challenge our tastebuds - how can this be done by constraining ourselves to a series of circumstances that resemble laboratory analysis?
It could be that your drinking buddies always favour the same guest brewery if spied on the board at your local BrewDog bar, whilst you simply pick one that sounds the coolest. Whilst they start at the top and work down, you flay into the order, mixing up sours and imperials, stouts and pales. At home, rather than undertaking your sofa-drinking from a specific glass, instead you just use the first one within reach, be it pint, third-pint, or builders' mug. Life's too short for rules, for added layers of complexity. If you can't feel settled unless you're in a specific seat, wearing the same t-shirt, with exactly 88 peanuts in a dish in front of you, you're not really living – just conforming. Drink it, don't think it.
When it comes to drinking personality, do you homogenise things to be as familiar and relaxing as possible, or do you mix it up whenever you can? What are your sudsy routines, your craft beer habits?
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