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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
- Does anyone else feel guilty drinking beer alone because it’s supposed to be a social experience?
- I’m new to drinking beer and I need some suggestions.
- Cleaning house and found a 10-15 year old bottle of barley wine from High Water Brewing, which I think no longer exists. What are the chances it’s drinkable, as in not holding my nose drinkable?
- I’m new to drinking beer and I need some suggestions.
- Tried Dragon’s Milk and loved it, any other dark/milk stout recommendations?
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The Solo Beer Ritual: Embracing the Joys of Sipping Alone
Does enjoying a cold beer alone evoke feelings of guilt for you? You’re not alone in this sentiment. Many of us have grown up with the idea that beer is inherently a social drink, shared among friends and family during gatherings or celebrations.
Over the past year, as I’ve adapted to remote work, I’ve stumbled upon a delightful personal ritual: around 6 PM, I pour myself a carefully chosen beer while I prepare dinner. This isn’t just any beer; I take the time to select one that boasts inviting flavors and intricate notes, something that truly deserves my focus. However, I’ve recently found myself grappling with a peculiar guilt about savoring this experience solo.
My partner often raises an eyebrow when she sees me indulging in a $35 barrel-aged sour ale or a $76 fruited lambic on a casual Wednesday evening. “Why not save it for when we have guests?” she asks, suggesting that such treasures are meant to be shared. Yet, I find that I revel in the opportunity to taste the complex Brettanomyces character by myself, rather than navigating a conversation that often misinterprets these intricate beverages as mere “expensive beer.”
Is it truly acceptable to relish a fine brew in isolation? Sometimes, I can’t help but feel a twinge of doubt as I scroll through social media, admiring pictures of vibrant bottle shares where enthusiasts are engaged in lively discussions over rare and complex beers. It leads me to ponder whether I am missing out on the crucial communal experience that accompanies beer tasting. But let’s be honest, not everyone can distinguish between different hop varieties, let alone appreciate the depth of a well-crafted lambic.
So I ask, how do others navigate this conundrum? Do you reserve your finest libations for gatherings, or do you also find solace in savoring quality beer on your own? After all, isn’t there something to be said for the quiet joy of enjoying a meticulously brewed beer in solitude? It’s worth considering whether self-appreciation in our beer rituals can coexist with the enriching social experiences amid the ever-complex relationship we have with our favorite brews.