Guys and Beer

One of my main motivations for going to the gym is to watch network TV. I climb onboard that elliptical exercise gadget, positioned between two large-screen TVs, and I pump and get my Network TV fix. I’ll never understand why they put on the Food Channel, with program after program featuring chunky chefs telling you how to get as chunky as they are. For your information, I’m not exactly svelte, and I’m probably as chunky as some of those chefs on The Food Channel. And, the fact is, after absorbing about 3.6 minutes of the Chunky Chef Fat-Off, I lapse into some meditation, which has the effect of closing my eyes and transporting me to another dimension lacking any kind of network TV.

Today, during that 3.6 minutes of attention, I saw something that I can’t stop thinking about. Standing in the kitchen with Zaftig Zoe, or whatever, was her hubby, who was pretty thin. It made me think of Jack Sprat and his wife. Anyway, Hubby looked bored and disinterested, sometimes he even frowned. I definitely got the feeling that he didn’t want to be there. Well, all that changed when Zoe pulls out about 4 bottles of beer and a bottle of apple cider. Hubby’s facial expression went from passive to very interested. He started smiling this odd smile. It wasn’t one of those symmetric smiles, where the sides of the mouth go up and out in equal directions, it was a very lopsided smile. The right side of the smile was more to the right, and the left side of the smile didn’t smile very much. You could see more teeth on the right side of his face than the left.

Zoe asked Hubby to pop open the bottles, and he did so with gravity and reverence. She took out a glass pitcher and asked him to pour the bottles of beer into the pitcher in such a way as to minimize foam formation. Hubby’s face shifted into the Lop-Sided-Smile Totally-Focused mode as he verrrrry carefully poured the beer slowly down the side of the pitcher. You could tell that, to Hubby, at least, this might be the most important thing he does this week.

If there’s one thing that guys know how to do, it’s pour beer with little or no foaming. The reason is very simple, the more foam in the glass, the less beer. And, I think we all know a few guys who value the volume of their beer mugs and understand that foam is wasted space, but, seeing that golden nectar with a minimal head of foam might be a thing of beauty, but it won’t last long.

So, with Hubby a Happy Pappy, the dinner guests sit around the table, nibble at the food, and demolish the beer-apple cider gemisch.

Even though I enjoy the occasional beer, it’s still an occasional beer, maybe once every two months, when I’m not the designated driver. And, I like red wine about as often. But, face it, I just don’t indulge myself like Hubby seems to. There are other things that get me excited, but a frosty cold one just doesn’t do it, and I know this one thing has made me a misfit in some parts of society.

The question I ask is this: What the big deal about beer anyway? I am fortunate to live within walking distance of a grocery store, and there’s a liquor store across the street. Every time I walk to buy groceries, I see people coming out of that liquor store loaded with 6-packs, cases, beer balls, kegs. I see men and women whose physical size is dwarfed by the monster beer box precariously balanced in their arms. Lite Beer seems to be the most popular, but that's another column entirely. Think about it, a case of beer; 24, or more, containers of beer. Friends, who buys 24 anythings these days? Do you see anybody buying 24 tomatoes, or 24 bunches of celery, or 24 cans of Green Giant Niblet Corn? Do you even see anybody buying 24 packs of Twinkies, or 24 Big Macs, or 24 2-liter bottles of Mountain Dew? Nobody buys 24 anythings anymore. Except beer.

The beer culture in this country boggles my mind. I’ve heard beer drinkers fantasize about having their home plumbed to deliver beer to any room in the house. They announce that a weekend without drinking themselves silly is a wasted weekend. They count up the beer containers and divide by the number of people to determine how much beer they can get. They know which beers are 2.2%, 2.4%, and 3.2% alcohol. Speaking for myself, if I had such a command of this beer vernacular, I’d be too embarrassed to brag about it.

I still can’t get Zaftig Zoe’s Hubby’s smile out of my mind. I think I’ve seen that smile a million times, but this is the first time I truly noticed it and began to wonder what it meant. Maybe some women have that reaction to bottles of beer as well, but, I’m beginning to think it’s a phenomenon among guys. It’s one of those guy things that make me regret the accident of birth that made me a guy.

So, I think I’ll pass on the beer and apple cider recipe. That bruscetta didn’t look so bad, though.