Critic yells ‘beer me’ as suds go upscale, by Robin Garr.
If you don’t think there’s any class distinction between wine and beer, you might consider whether you’ve even seen a drunk slouch into a bar and yell, “Wine me!” Beer, let’s face it, owns a downscale, blue-collar image that contrasts with wine’s perceived position as the drink the beautiful people sip.
But need this be so? In an age when artisanal brewpubs and microbreweries abound and the term “quality American beer” is no longer an oxymoron, it’s arguable that beer — fine, crafted beer made in a wide variety of styles — deserves as much connoisseurish attention as wine enthusiasts are accustomed to lavishing on their grape juice.
Also, Sara Havens takes a righteous stand against green beer even as elsewhere in the newspaper, regular advertisers like Fourth Street Live shamelessly tout algae-colored clueless lotion for the yokels to consume on St. Patrick's Day.
The Bar Belle: The tragedy that is green beer, by Sara Havens.
Friends don’t let friends drink green beer. Seriously. Don’t do it. Don’t even think about it. If you have to, order a bottle … or a Guinness … or a Harp … to commemorate St. Patrick’s Day. Just don’t walk around with a goofy grin and a pint of syrupy green sludge that leaves stains all over your face. It looks like you just blew a leprechaun. Or had a threesome with Papa Smurf and Homer Simpson.