Some beers turn out more symbolic than you intend. I’m an avowed fan of the Occasion Beer — a drink somehow keyed the moment of its drinking by whatever punning or poignant link of timing or theme takes your fancy — and decided I’d end my shift on Christmas Eve with a Midnight Mass of good-old bog-standard German lager. (Geddit? It’s a homonym. A late-night religious observance and a one-litre serving size, most familiar from Octoberfest. Right? Anyway. I make precisely zero apologies.) But the day, like a great many of them in the tail end of the year, got busy and got away from me and left me underenthused at the prospect of four standard drinks before bed just for the very-minor joke of it. Midnights, though, do just keep coming around fairly regularly. And so, after a much-calmer shift on New Year’s Eve1 — and a few very-civilised beers at Malthouse on the way home — my first Beer Diary entry for 2016 was this. On reflection, it nicely encapsulated the year before — it was big, enjoyable, pleasantly exhausting, admirably simple and uncomplicated, and just generally a fine idea delayed (but not defeated) by circumstance.
I’m Phil Cook, and I’ve been keeping a Beer Diary for twelve years. It’s never once felt in danger of being close to finished.
- Golding’s, with its relatively-early midnight closing time, basically checks out of the end-of-year festivities entirely and shuts by nine p.m. on the 31st — rather than annoying revelers by throwing them out just as they get started shouting their countdown.
- Which I do via Craft Beer College — he says by way of habitual disclaimer and shameless plug, insofar as you can combine those things.