By Dennis Dunham I grew up in Ohio on Stroh’s. I went to Penn State (IC Light pumpers!), so probably the first good beer I had was Leinenkugel’s, courtesy of my brother-in-law from Wisconsin. My dad grew up on a farm drinking dandelion wine, so I didn’t get it from him. He did drink scotch,... View Article
I don’t need surveys, spreadsheets or analytics to tell me that craft beer is on the rise and that more people than ever are drinking better beer. No, all I need to do is stroll through my neighborhood on Thursday nights, when my neighbors put out their recycling for pickup. Along with my trusty mutt,... View Article
My journey in beer began in the 1970s. During that decade and into the early ‘80s, the beer landscape was bleak throughout most of this country but especially in my native South Carolina. American beers were generally flavorless thirst quenchers and European beers were usually stale or skunked. Despite the sad state of the beer... View Article
When I had just graduated from college, most of my mornings would begin with me stumbling over tossed clothes and sneakers to the refrigerator. My mouth typically felt as barren as the Sahara, and only one thing could cure this—water. I never thought I would ever drink anything else in the morning. Least of all,... View Article
“Why did you switch from wine to beer?” “I graduated!” always gets a laugh. Though I’ve been commercially close to Gambrinus far longer that I was to Bacchus, I have never lost my taste for wine. Neither tipple is nobler than the other, though beer snobs pale in comparison to wine snobs. Over the years... View Article
It is Tuesday night in my neighborhood and a chance to procrastinate penning this piece. My neighbor Peter has hosted darts in his garage for the last 15 years, featuring a rotating cast of characters. The place is cool, everyone brings his own beers, good music, people don’t take themselves too seriously, my dog is... View Article
Alcoholic beverages were not a part of my upbringing. There was no prohibition or religious objection—it just wasn’t a daily part of our lives. We had the tiny glass of concord grape wine with our weekly Sabbath dinner, and my parents hosted the occasional cocktail party. In retrospect, I would seem an unlikely candidate to... View Article
Read that headline again. I vaguely remember asking my dad that very question. If I had to guess, I was in the third grade. My dad wasn’t a regular beer drinker, but he certainly enjoyed a cold Bud after a few hours of mowing the lawn under the blazing Nebraska summer sun. One day I... View Article
I arrived in Edinburgh as a student in October 1978, and began my love affair with the city’s pubs. At first, I stuck to the student haunts but was soon introduced to “proper” bars such as Bennets on Leven Street and The Café Royal Bar in the city center. I was in the process of... View Article
