The more I do these beer promos (the brand varies from week to week), the more I realize how everyone wants to appear refined. Few people care to admit their ignorance, so when some jolly doofus takes a sample of Sapporo Premium Light (which tastes like Coors Light to me), he tends to say things like, “Oh, yeah. See, this is one of those European beers. It tastes like a Guinness mixed with um, ah, a Heineken.”
I mean, what do you say to that? (Answer: “Does it?”) In truth, that happened to me only once, but most of the time, new beers taste either “interesting” or “not bad,” as if the taster expected that tiny sip of Pyramid Apricot Ale to make him vomit all over my display, and, after an inordinate amount of lip-smacking and consideration, he ended up pleasantly surprised when he didn’t.
I guess I get a little dismayed for two reasons: For one thing, it sucks that people can’t really just be excited about something, and for another, it sucks that these folks can’t just fess up to not being an expert. One guy, after I name-dropped Spaten as a taste reference for Sapporo Reserve, swallowed his sample, smacked his lips, and said, “Yeah, it kinda tastes like that. It’s called Spay-ten, though.” Amazingly, I did not roll my eyes.