If I live to be 200 I’m pretty sure I’ll still be thinking bad ideas I’ve never suggested before.

For example, the one that I would ask brewers at the Great American Beer Festival this question: “Do you brew beers that are as good at or better than the Europeans have for generations?” (If you’ve forgotten, here’s the background.)

It came with a guarantee the answers would be boring. Like anybody was going to say, “Sure, I make six beers better than anything from Cantillon” or “The guys from Schneider were begging us not to ship beer to Germany.” I went to sleep last Thursday (GABF Day One) painfully aware of what a dufus I am.

Two conversations Friday reminded me I really need to pay more attention to this blog’s mission statement.

The second was between a festival attendee and Southampton Publick House brewmaster Phil Markowski, who was signing copies of his Farmhouse Ales at the time. The man asked something about if Americans brewers now “broke more rules” than Belgian brewers.

“Go to any booth and you’ll see rules broken,” Markowski said. “If somebody can do it and it tastes good then that’s fine.”

The first came earlier in the day when I asked Anders Kissmeyer, former brewmaster at the Nørrebro Brewery in Denmark and now technical editor of the Scandinavian Brewers’ Review, the “better” question.

“The question about which is better is ridiculous,” he said. “As long as people are working at making better beer, that’s what matters.” Because, most time at least, the result is improved beer.

Kissmeyer isn’t shy about praising the spirit of experimentation in United States. “The Americans are not only giving the English and the Germans and the Czechs a kick in the ass, but also the Belgians,” he said.

So Kissmeyer set me straight and then provided context. Markowski offered more context and Garrett Oliver, signing The Brewmaster’s Bible at an adjoining table still more when he leaned over and said, “The Europeans don’t understand that we have an idea of what’s going on everywhere.”

Kissmeyer does because he ventures to the United States somewhat regularly. Oliver does because he goes everywhere. They are better qualified than most to talk about “better” and they know better than to waste the time.

Thanks, Anders. We’ll see if I can stick the the mission statement written nearly six years ago.

If you aren’t going to be in Houston Oct. 14-16 for Dixie Cup XXVII you can quit reading here.

If you are going to be there I hope we get a chance to meet, probably to talk about beer. Although I do carry around family and trip pictures and will spring them without provocation.

I’ll be speaking Saturday morning, briefly about “The rhythm of the brewery,” and answering whatever questions from attendees who might happen to be awake at the beginning of the third day of a beer drinking marathon.

Hope to see you at the opening reception Thursday or judging or at the Fred Tasting (led by Ray Daniels) or just hanging out.

What Three Floyds Brewing had on offer at the Great American Beer Festival.

Perhaps I’m picking a nit, but there’s a difference between being too serious about beer (as Stephen Beaumont points out here, and I must confess happens in these parts) and taking beer seriously.

Martyn Cornell illustrates that today when he answers the question, “So what IS the difference between barley wine and old ale?”

This is simply a brilliant bit of research, a classic illustration of looking beyond the obvious, and a superb piece of writing.

The bottom line: He tells us something new.

I realized as I started typing that I don’t think I’ve told you that Cornell’s Amber, Black & Gold — which I called the beer book of the year in 2008 (a more complete review) when it was available only in electronic form — is available Amazon’s U.S. site.

Now I have.