Beer has no nationality. Beer is beer. I like it or I don't like it. Or I'm equivocal. That happens, too. The world isn't black and white. Like my clothes, it comes in a variety of shades of grey.
Stonch's post about Tetley's Dark Mild was the hammer that smashed into the frozen gearbox of my brain. Thinking about prejudice. Loving poor beers from small breweries, whilst ridiculing decent ones from the big boys. Opinions based on prejudice. Like beer nationalism.
"What is beer nationalism?". That's a good question. Not one I'm going to answer, but good nonetheless. Just think of nationalism. Then add beer. Get the idea now? I'm not the Open bloody University, you know.
The world of beer is one exciting whole. Not a series of competing fragments. "Which country brews the best beer?" What sort of stupid question is that? "Where's the pub?", "Can I have a pint of that, please?", "What are you having?" They're good questions.
Over a Damask Cloth - On a wintry day in February, 1948, the newly founded Baltimore branch of the Wine and Food Society held what was nominally called a “Wine Tasting”, at the ...
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