c;)

It's not just a
college fad
some young Jews
really do like
beer.

MATT MOSSMAN
Special to The Jewish News

11/28
1997

76

"So we talked about some
old times, and we drank
ourselves some beers. Still
crazy, after all these years.

hat Paul Simon classic just
wouldn't be the same if the
line read "and we drank
ourselves some milk" or
"and we drank ourselves some Coke."
Beer. It's a reminder of good times
past, a celebration of a hard day's
work, or a sign of good times to come.
Beer and fun go together like, well,
beer and pretzels.
But for Jews, there's another side to
beer — it's the drink my great-grand-
mother kept hidden in the back of the

fridge, taken out only for Gentile
guests. Jews and beer? If history is any
indication, we're no pretzels.
So the question is: Why? Maybe
since there aren't any Jewish religious
or cultural traditions that involve beer,
there's no history with it — wine defi-
nitely has a monopoly on that market.
Or maybe it's because so many Jews
are from Eastern Europe, a place
known more for vodka than for beer.
Rabbi Ernst Conrad, rabbi emeritus
at Temple Kol Ami in West
Bloomfield, remembers Jews in his
native Germany (known as the land of
beer) as beer drinkers.
"Jews in Eastern Europe didn't have
the beer makers of Germany," he says.
"The popular drink there was Slivovitz,
which was a type of peach brandy."

Among Jews of that generation, the
time to drink was after dinner — in
Germany, one beer, or in Poland, one
quick shot of Sliv, would do it.
But not today. It seems that even
without a strong brew-guzzling back-
ground, Jews in their 20s and 30s are
getting beer-smart, and making up for
lost ancestral time as they go. And it's
not just a pint after dinner, either.
Today's young Jews are integrating
beer into the social process.
For some, beer is a liquid way to
put your feet up, take a load off and
still be able to get up when you're
done. Says Paul Gedrich, "It's a great
way to relax and hang out with your
friends. I had some bad experiences
with Southern Comfort when I was a
kid, so I started with beer," he says
over a few cold ones at Roosevelt's in
Farmington Hills.
For others, it's a rite of passage.
"I went to Michigan State, so that
explains it," Amy Goodman says of
her affection for Pete's Wicked Ale.
College can be a good starting
point. The consensus at Roosevelt's is
that while high school was a time to
cautiously experiment with drinking
(albeit illegally), college is where you
become good at it.
And perhaps that's why beer is a bit
of a generational thing. Gbing to col-
lege before the mid-'60s didn't require
a crash course in drinking 101, as it
seems to today.
Rabbi Aaron Bergman, a University
of Michigan graduate, suggests that
campus commercialism is a big influ-
ence.
"You'd be walking down the street
in Ann Arbor, and suddenly a 10-foot
Budweiser can would be -coming your
way," he recalls with a chuckle.
Wherever it came from, beer's just a
part of the fun for Gedrich and
Goodman. But there are some fringe
benefits.
"It's a crutch when you're in bars. It
gives you something to hold," says
Cory Jacoby, 28. He's got a unique
beer talent — he can make one bottle
of warm Bud Light last an entire
evening.
But if you're only looking for a
light buzz or a grown-up pacifier, why
does it have to be beer?
Goodman, 23, is a beer fan because
it won't mess with her insides.
"Hard liquor is too heavy, and wine
makes me tired," she explains. "Beer is
a nice way to casually
have a few drinks without getting
drunk."
I remember my first beer well. It

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