The Best Letter My Father Ever Wrote To Me, Was About Beer

In the midst of a sea of email this afternoon, I receive one from my father (you’ll read it below.) When I see an email from him, it’s usually a joke, a story about the little town they live in, or family update.  This afternoon’s email though, is different. Apparently my beer drinking has rubbed off on him.

Reid,

You ruined me.

I know you didn’t mean to, but you did.

I was once a dedicated wine drinker,an elitist who could taste the difference between a cabernet bottled in Napa Valley and one from Lodi in the central valley.  I could tell you how old the vines were that produced the zinfandel. I could tell you what country in South America a malbec came from. Somewhere all that changed.

I don’t know if it was the Bridgeport Stumptown Tart, or the St Terese’s or the Dogfish Head Black and Blue.  It was probably that Anderson Valley Summer Solstice or that Breakfast Stout.

This week I bought two 6 packs of craft beer at one time because I ran out of the one I bought last week. Hell, before last week I had never bought a 6 pack of beer in my life. Now I browse the craft beer section in beverage stores and read Beer Street Journal.

I still have an unopened case of zinfandel.  Oh well, maybe it’s an investment.

It’s your fault.

Dad

PS. When is Highland releasing the Cold Mountain Winter Ale?

Finally. I did something right.