So at least a fifth of the people at the Glunz Beer Expo at the Donald Stephens Convention Center reminded me of cast members or extras from the dungeons and dragons soap opera with their flowing hair, bushy beards and chain mail off their wallets.
Oh hipsters, and your ironic love of the past, be it Snidely Whiplash mustaches, Lincoln chin beards, Laplander winter caps, the PBR in your fridges or beverages best served in wooden mugs.
Per the latter, the world of beer has gone pretty medieval on our asses – which is to say along with the hop stuff, there are meades, ciders, and brews from abbeys such as Val-Dieu, which was founded by monks in 1216.
But I jester.
This was the 20th Expo from Louis Glunz Beer, Inc., which was founded in 1888, and which is one of the oldest beer distributorships in the country.
There even was a spread worthy of a royal banquet, with turkey, roast beef – and vegetables and gluten free beer, if you were so inclined.
In fact, there were 53 booths serving up suds such as La Socarrada, brewed with rosemary and rosemary honey; Bittersweet Lenny’s R.I.P.A, “brewed with an obscene amount of malts and hops,” the brochure says; Crabbie’s Original and Spiced Orange Alcoholic Ginger Beer; and Futhermore’s Viking Afternoon, a teeter-totter IPA, which did not cause me to pillage anyone or anything.
All this variety should come as no surprise to anyone who’s been to a Binnie’s or a Woodman’s or even a Jewel-Osco this century.
Cripes, the World Beer Cup in Denver is up to 94 categories – though it’s distressing that Coors Light was a winner in one of them, much less one not called “Beer Which Tastes the Most Like Water.”
I’m not complaining, though. It’s just sensory overload for a guy like me, who’s not going to be taking too many notes on a late afternoon out drinking, A) because there are people better qualified for that than I am and B) I was out drinking.
One of those better-qualified was my guest – Rich Placko from the Silverado Homebrew Club (silveradohomebrew.com), and he was partial to Lindeman’s Peche Lambic, a Belgian Peach beer.
Rich left us before we hit the David Hasselhoff Brauhaus, where I was sad to learn the lederhosen they sell in the lobby only come in sizes up to 36 (which I think was a lie told by the bored salesclerk to prevent having to ring up anything bigger).
I also figured out that a German band can make any pop song German simply by adding the emphatic word “schnell.”
For instance: I just called to say I love you, I just called to say I care, I just called to say I love you, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Schnell!
Or, We all live in a yellow U2 boat.
As the band oompahed along, I noticed an image I wish my phone camera could have picked up from the TV monitor, a torso shot of thick legs in lederhosen with a big stein of beer between them. I want a t-shirt like that.
Best of all, if you order a shot of anything at Hofbrauhaus, you get a spanking. With a paddle.
I just went home.