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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
- Oregon Road Trip: Freeland Spirits Garden Botanicals Gin
- Botanist with Trader Joe’s Lemon and Elderflower Soda
- I’m one of the worlds leading buyers of craft gin in the world and a international spirit judge AMA
- I’m blown away…. By how let down I am by this Gin.
- The Botanist 22 Gin Review: Perhaps the most overhyped gin around
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The Intricacies of Craft Beer: Navigating the Language of Connoisseurship
In the world of craft beer, there’s an undeniable charm to gathering with fellow enthusiasts to share unique brews and exchange insights. However, this passion for beer can sometimes lead us down a path of pretentious jargon and convoluted phrases, especially when we find ourselves trying to impress others with our “knowledge.”
Recently, during a bottle share, I found myself in a situation that many beer lovers might relate to. Someone opened a barrel-aged sour, and in an attempt to showcase my appreciation, I casually remarked on how the “characteristic brett interacts with the oak tannins to create beautiful phenolic compounds.” Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure what phenolic compounds even are. I think I may have inadvertently fused terms I’d heard on a podcast with some wine-speak, hoping it would make me sound more knowledgeable.
To my surprise, my audience nodded in agreement, seemingly impressed with my insight. Emboldened by their response, I proceeded to dig myself deeper into the jargon with a comment about the beer “expressing local terroir through indigenous microflora.” Again, I had no solid understanding of what I was saying; I was simply stringing together phrases I had heard in the past.
Reflecting on this, I realized that much of what we share in the craft beer community can sometimes resemble a game of Mad Libs—using familiar words and concepts without truly grasping their meaning. Just last month, I caught myself using the term “mouthfeel complexity” to describe a beer, when in reality, I meant to convey that it tasted thick.
It’s a gentle reminder that perhaps we often parrot the knowledge of others, hoping our audience won’t notice our lack of expertise. Does this resonate with anyone else? Have you ever found yourself caught in the whirlpool of craft beer terminology, wondering if anyone would truly call your bluff? Let’s embrace our shared love of beer, but maybe with a bit less pretense. After all, there’s beauty in honesty—regardless of whether we can fully articulate it.