Kevin Shaw has been more than happy to put down the corkscrew during lockdown and reach for another bottle of craft beer.
I’m drinking beer. We’ve got new beer projects coming in so I’m drinking beer, playing catchup so I know what I’m talking about in meetings. See, the zombie apocalypse has changed things, probably forever, and we always see it in the briefs that come in. Everyone’s downgrading and drinking cheap stuff like beer because no one’s trying to impress anyone.
These days I don’t dress to impress; hell, most days I don’t even dress so who cares what I drink? That’s not quite true, there’s still that bottle of ouzo that’s about 30 years old now but, even with the curiosity factor of wondering what a 30 year old ouzo tastes like, it’s still a nah.
Anyway, beer. It’s been a while since we hooked up. I think we fell out when beer went all lager and I moved on to wine. Bit more sophisticated, innit. There was always the old Guinness in the corner, last resort, but you always hate yourself in the morning. Well, turns out beer’s been working out and has got a revenge body, beer’s definitely dressed to impress, giving me the eye and beer’s still a cheap date. Happy days.
A funny beer related incident happened today, a relatively new beer client pitched up at the house. I’ve been in lockdown with the family for what feels like years and Kevin McGee brought lots of beer to the house. For me! Can’t stop, he said (from a safe distance), just thought you might like this. I was so overwhelmed by the random act of kindness I rustled up some eggs from the chickens and some esoteric whiskey we’re working on as a kind of zombie apocalypse barter. Was that enough, a fair exchange? What’s the scale for zombie apocalypse barter? And do I get a trade discount?
Kevin Shaw’s advice: find and drink this beer
Anyway, beer. Beer is not just beer anymore. As I write this I’m drinking Anderson Valley (new beer client) Salted Caramel Porter and it is gobsmackingly delicious. Don’t take my word for it – the winemaker wife sniffed it, tasted it and ran off with it. She started rummaging through the cases, reading the sexy names and staring into mid-space all glassy eyed, imagining the couplings of the flavours. What’s a hazy sour, a blood orange gose? Swiping left, swiping right, all beer-curious. She’s never done that with wine.
