The thought for this post was actually inspired by my experiences on Christmas eve this year. My long time friend, and now sister’s
boyfriend, is a hunter. Recently he went out and shot both a deer and a bear. He was of course beaming with pride and showed us multiple things that resulted from his kills. The very first thing I was shown when I got to his house was two deer skulls that were rotting in his basement. He had not only boiled them, but he had also purchased special bugs to consume the rest of the remains. They smelled awful, but they were his trophies to display. Both animals were broken down into various forms of meat. We enjoyed a “deer stick” while we were at his house. The Bear is currently being turned into a rug. He has done various things to not only enjoy his triumph, but he is taking certain measures to display to others this pride as well.
I, likewise, brought my own product from my hunt. Of course my version of hunting is much less violent, but I felt some pride in sharing it with everyone as well. I want this particular bottle to remain a secret for now. Monday I will have a little review on the bottle, so I will leave you in suspense for now. However, I spent months tracking and searching for a particular bottle of beer. I heard it existed, I tracked down its hiding place, and I took the proper steps to bring it in. Just call me the beer hunter. Perhaps slightly less manly, but I had quite a few members of the Christmas Eve party who wanted to partake in my “kill”
I, and other beer geeks across America, hunt different beers down all the time. A perfect example is the beer I reviewed on Monday. Canadian Breakfast stout was in high demand; however, there was a limited quantity available. When I went to pick up the bottle I had on reserve, the guy behind the counter remarked how he did have a bottle for himself here, but he was glad he had managed to “hunt” down another bottle at another local store. We are involved in the hunt all the time, and sometimes, it’s a lot harder to actually come home with our prize. If you live in the wrong area of America it can be downright impossible.
Of course we have trophies as well. How many rare beer bottles could you not part with? I brought one bottle home from Italy because it was not only rare, but it also had some significance to me sentimentally. Christmas eve I had to keep an eye on my bottle to make sure no one threw it away. It was my trophy and, despite enjoying it in NJ, it would make the trip all the way back to DC. It needed to take its rightful place on my bookshelf of other trophies. Coincidentally, it will take up residence right next to my bottle of CBS.
The hunting I do may not seem as manly, but I find joy in it. There is always something new to hunt. There is a bottle that wasn’t released in your area, or there is something so rare that only a small quantity can be found. The thrill of the hunt sometimes only makes the beer taste better.