This series of posts is dedicated to the many, many six packs, pony kegs and pints that have sauntered into my life at one point or another.
It is probably beyond my command of words — regardless of where I consider it to be, at any given moment, on the spectrum between erudite and inept — to convey the sway over me that is held by the city of New Orleans. My adoration is informed by my exposure to its ramshackle, freewheeling culture, informed by hedonistic impulses. But it’s also because I’ve seen the city when it was desperate close to its lowest point. At that time, I witnessed its enduring grace, which somehow felt like it represented the beautifully foolhardy perseverance of all of humanity, absolutely refusing to give up, no matter how emphatically the universe insisted it was the proper course of action.
And the beer’s good, too.
Previous entries in this series can be found by clicking on the “Beers I Have Known” tag.