I have been away for a while. I was fasting on doctor’s orders, and then I broke my fast with a tiny bit of cider from some enabling friends. And then I found myself drinking lots of cider…in pubs like the Green Man in Fitzrovia where they have Old Rosie on tap. I’m hanging out with my old tribe– goths– and drinking cider. In the US cider is a sweet hot mulled thing children drink at Halloween…here in the UK it seems cider is the madwoman in the Real Ale attic– and, more strangely– it seems to be associated with goths.
Then I went beer slumming for an extended period, finding myself addicted to the rosy-hued Sam’s Smith’s cherry beer. The label is beautiful and old-timey, and every time I look at it I think happily about the rainy British summer.
And then I continued on this path away from beer snobbery by visiting Garlic and Shots in Soho and drinking their garlic beer. It is basically generic lager with minced garlic floating in the head. A lot of minced garlic. My friends and I sipped it with trepidation, feeling like we were on a college party dare, and all of us were delighted with the sweet pungency. With perverse glee, I realized that this is maybe the one way I could learn to drink fizzy yellow beer.
I’m going to the Greenwich Beer Festival tomorrow. If I can survive the “jazz” I will be reporting back fronting a more evolved palate.