The inventory of available beers at modern restaurants is quite extensive these days, often requiring two sides of an A4-size menu to describe the various ales, lagers, stouts, saisons, and so on that can be ordered from your waiter. Then there is the huge, leather-bound dossier detailing the contents of the wine cellar to go through. And finally, a colorful brochure featuring all the specialty cocktails offered by the restaurant's resident "mixologist."
In fact, it usually takes me much longer to decide what I want to drink than it does for me to choose an entree. After all, compared to the interminable drinks menu, the very brief food menu reads like the limited options served on a budget international plane flight: meat or fish, except at modern restaurants it's either pork belly or squid in its own ink, both served with artisanal Brussels sprouts and a sprinkling of purple rice.
I was eating at a trendy local bistro recently when an evidently unsophisticated diner at an adjacent table requested "a Coors Light." From the look on his face, I don't think our hipster waiter had ever heard of such a thing; or else he regarded such low-brow beer with the horror he'd normally reserve for a dead insect discovered floating in a bowl of vichyssoise.
"I'm sorry we don't have Coors Light," the waiter informed the diner, with the same imperious tone of voice a Lamborghini car dealer might use to tell a customer that he didn't sell pick-up trucks. The waiter then proceeded to recite the list of cask-conditioned craft beers the establishment did carry, including flavor notes, alcohol content, and city or country of origin.
It was a prodigious feat of memory but the unsophisticated diner was not impressed. "Just fetch me a beer," he grunted dismissively, turning all his baleful attention to the long suffering countenance of his Sauvignon Blanc (the cheaper of the three listed) ordering partner.
Personally, despite finding the gourmetfication of beer somewhat ridiculous, I'd have brought the unsophisticated diner a glass of the sourest Belgian ale I could lay my hands on. "Here is a beer that many connoisseurs regard as light." I'd announce. "Drink it and learn some manners."
I had paid and left before the diner ordered his meal, so I'm unaware of how he responded when told the kitchen was unable to supply the burger and fries he probably wanted. "Just bring me a plate of meat," no doubt, his usual mode of blunt communication.
Then again, perhaps he was not as unsophisticated as his drink choice made him appear. Perhaps he was only there for the pork belly. It's said to be the best in town although I've never tried it. Given the choice of pork belly or squid in its own ink type entrees we just get a bunch of apps.
