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Steven Coulson
Steven has been drinking beers, wines and spirits for decades and has a propensity to go about them at length after a few drinks.
Latest Posts
- 57/m: Love beer, but it doesn’t love me as much anymore
- No Stupid Questions Wednesday – ask anything about beer
- Does anyone else get treated like a beer snob for ordering literally anything that isn’t a macro lager?
- Is there a polite way to refuse a beer that’s being served in the wrong glassware without making everyone at the table uncomfortable?
- # What’s the most pretentious thing you’ve ever said about beer that you secretly didn’t understand yourself?
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When Beer Talk Turns Pretentious: Confessions from a Craft Beer Enthusiast
Ah, the world of craft beer: a realm rich with flavor, aromas, and, let’s face it, an abundance of jargon that can often feel a bit overblown. Recently, I had an experience that made me reflect on the pretentious pronouncements we sometimes find ourselves making about our favorite brews, even when we may not fully grasp their meaning.
During a weekend bottle share, a friend brought out a barrel-aged sour that excited everyone. In what seemed like a moment of inspiration, I confidently declared that I “truly appreciated the characteristic brett interacting with the oak tannins to create some beautiful phenolic compounds.” To be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure what phenolic compounds were—I suspect I was merely regurgitating terminology I had picked up from various wine discussions and a brewing podcast I listened to.
The most amusing part? The others around the table nodded in agreement, as if I had just revealed a profound truth about the beer. Feeling bolstered by their responses, I decided to elaborate further, adding something about the beer “expressing local terroir through indigenous microflora.” It was a classic case of overcomplicating what was likely a simple yet delightful drink.
Just last month, I caught myself remarking on a beer’s “mouthfeel complexity,” when all I really wanted to say was that it had a thick texture. At that moment, I realized how absurd it was. I was essentially engaging in a kind of craft beer version of Mad Libs, cobbling together phrases that sounded intelligent while lacking any real comprehension.
This experience has led me to ponder whether many of us are simply mimicking the language used by others, hoping that our borrowed eloquence will go unchallenged. Have you ever found yourself in a similar predicament, caught in a cycle of pretentious beer descriptions that mask your uncertainty? You’re certainly not alone! Let’s embrace the joy of beer tasting without the need for all the fluff. After all, isn’t it most satisfying when we genuinely understand and enjoy what we’re drinking?