My favorite barley pop please, I say to the barman behind his polished counter, and a dash of speed! I smugly slide onto my bar-stool, looking at the guy next to me I nod: “‘wassup”. I expectantly wait for my favorite craft beer.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”
Juliet in Romeo and Juliet talking about her favorite beer. Well we like to think she is. (Hey, if you dont believe me check it out Act II, ii, 1-2)
One of Shakespeare’s most famous quotes, that short sentence encapsulates the struggle and tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. And is echoed in similar struggles in breweries and pubs across the nation searching for that perfectly crafted beer.
No matter what your personal choice of high quality craft beer is, just how many things can you call a beer? Well the good folk at The Brewery on the Beach, after a good number of social lubricants under the belt, started tossing a few names around.
Beer, cold one, oat soda, suds, liquid bread, draught…
As you can imagine the party gathered momentum, with each one trying to outdo his bar-stool battle neighbor. Getting thirsty from all this banter about the silly seltzer, I shout: Beeeeer!
…soldier, liquid courage (this was growing with each draught of giggle water), brew dog, pre-spiked punch, bubbly muscles, chugger’s delight…bitter batter, icanbeatithome, secret ingredient X, tummy buster.
Things were hotting up with each draught of high quality craft beer consumed. And the quality seemed to get better with each sip it seemed, if that was at all possible. Jeffrey’s Bay was not going to be the same after this, assuming we survived this hello-goodbye, daddy’s milk, elbow benders brain hammer session.
“Redneck wine!” someone shouts. Silence. All eyes turn cautiously to the brew-master at this drunken insult. “Puke fuel!” he shouts back, defusing the tension, “and boredom-be-gone!”.
By now all patrons were in full swing, literally with fine craft beer spilling everywhere, and the list went on. “Time travel in a bottle” someone suggested. “Weed’s best friend, brew dog, giggle water, antidote, rocketsauce…”.
Eventually the evening started winding down. The train signal lights behind the bar turned amber to some lighthearted boo’s, and the last liquid wrecking ball was poured.
As the last of the potent potable un-water was chugged down, we all agreed on one thing. Nothing beats a well brewed favorite craft beer. By any other name.
What names did we forget? Have you got your own favorite name for your preferred craft brew? Leave your comments below, we’d love to add them to the list.