The other night, Michelle and I were closing down shop:
I’m doing dishes and cleaning up the back of house, while she was concentrating on final touches on the front. She comes around the corner with a bus tub, and in a confident tone, she pipes up, “That yeast is just too divergent for what most [novice drinkers] are used to.”
She was speaking of a German-style wheat that a few diners switched to after a few golden ales (both Hub City beers). They had left a couple of bottles half finished. Yep, lotsa banana and cloves that likely caught them off-gaurd.
Michelle was right, and reveals her Beer Geekness. Like second-hand smoke, she gets her geek on just by sleeping next to me. I emit this chimney of beer tidbits, and it sinks in, even though she’s ignoring me and reading some book that I wouldn’t read. She doesn’t read beer books. She doesn’t read beer magazines. Not reviews. Not blogs. No forum lurking. Only brewed once. She doesn’t research pubs and taprooms when visiting some other town. Doesn’t pay attention to new beer releases. Or events. And she doesn’t study the BJCP style guidelines before going to bed anymore than she reads Ron Pattinson when she wakes up in the morning.
She drinks my beer, puts up with my crap, and as a result, sounds geeky from time to time. Afflicted, this girl is. She’s a beer geek by osmosis. She knows quite a lot, in fact. But you wouldn’t guess it the first few times you were around her (unless that was at a beer festival).
It goes both ways. I know stuff to which I wouldn’t admit. Unless you caught me off guard and I accidentally helped you tweak the layout on your scrapbook. Choose a better shirt to match those pants. Helped you hem those pants.
Learning by osmosis is good. It gets you well-rounded. And when beer is involved, it’s mostly cool.