So this is what I’m doing this weekend: the Upland Sour Fest in Indianapolis. Yes, they do make sour beers on purpose and they are awesome. The first time I had one (in Asheville’s mind-blowingly awesome Thirsty Monk), I immediately hated it. And I kept thinking about how much I hated it, and kept taking sips of it to reaffirm my hatred of it.
“They make these on purpose?” I asked my beer-connoisseur friends S and G, as I stared incredulously into the murky, tart depths of my pint glass.
And soon it was my second pint glass. And then my third. And then. . .I don’t know, it’s kind of like Napoleon Dynamite. You absolutely hate it the first time you watch it, but it grows on you until you realize a couple of viewings later that you fucking love it. That is how sour beers are to me now. They’re an acquired taste, for sure, but I’m glad to have acquired said taste because it’s opened me up to a whole new world of beers – Belgian reds, gueuzes (I always have to look up how to spell that), and lambics (I’m not talking about Lindemans lambics – they’re delicious, but they’re not really good lambics, per se – they taste like boozy kool-aid instead of an authentic, mouth-puckering lambic.)
Anyway, we’re driving five hours for a beer festival. I have been on an extremely low-carb diet since late last year, so this weekend is obviously going to fuck all of that up. It’s worth it though. I’ll just live in the gym for the next two weeks.