The hurricane party’s windin’ down
and we’re all waitin’ for the end
And I don’t want another drink,
I only want that last one again
– James McMurtry, Hurricane Party
Revisiting long established flagships tastes of antiquity, success, failure, unfulfilled dreams of resurrection, and ultimately nostalgia. A place in time to momentarily revisit if only to remind you how far you’ve come but rarely a place to linger long.
-Andy Crouch, on Twitter
#FlagshipFebruary has begun. The website is live, listing participating locations and various promotions. Stephen Beaumont has written about Samuel Adams Boston Lager, the first of daily essays. I’ll be contributing words about a specific beer later in the month. (Yes, I know what it is. But I took a blood oath, let Jay Brooks stick a needle in my finger and everything, to keep it to myself.)
It will be hours before we head out to dinner and the first beer in the evening. Then #FlagshipFebruary will be real. Will it influence what I choose to drink? To be honest, I don’t know. I’ll get back to you on that. Saturday we’ll be observing the madness surrounding all things Super Bowl (all free things, that is) and will be on the lookout for flagship beers beyond Bud Light. Will report back on that as well.
James McMurtry and Andy Crouch have me thinking about what it means that beers that once were new and exciting have become familiar and comfortable, and what I want to linger over. Lingering matters.
Meanwhile, one quick story about ordering Sam Adams beer 25 years ago. In 1994, the Union Jack Pub in Indianapolis served primarily imports from 18 taps. When I asked the bartender what American beers beyond the Boston Lager available at the time they sometimes poured. He said they tried pouring four different Samuel Adams beers. When customers came in looking for “Sam Adams” and saw four they often looked terrified, then ordered something entirely different.
Seems like the patron could have asked, been told Sam Adams=Boston Lager, but the bartender sure liked telling that story. The Union Jack pours considerably more Midwest-brewed beer today, and no Sam Adams.