•

•

•

•

was the Fourth of July, just before
the fireworks display on the Detroit
River. The lucky brew was a shiny-
sleek can of Old Milwaukee, bought
by my really tall friend Mark -- the
only one of us who could buy liquor
without getting asked for I.D.
We struggled to guzzle a six-
pack in over an hour, doing our
best not to make faces, and con-
vinced that our 14-year-old hairless
chests were growing instantly more
hirsute.
But today, I couldn't even fathom
an Old Milwaukee, much less any
beer out of a can. It's got to be a
heartwarming Guinness in the win-
ter, or a micro-brewed summer ale
on hot afternoons.

Maybe it's not exactly Murphy's
and Guinness, but Jews are brewing
a beer war of their own —
Maccabbee vs. Goldstar.
Gluck and I used to get our Israeli
beer fix at the Brickskeller, a venera-
ble old D.C. bar known , for two
things— salami-topped burgers and
a seleCtion of more than 400 beers
from around the world. We'd scan
the menu as if spinning a globe,
putting a finger on exotic locales and
trying the local brew. Some advice
for those of you heading for Estonia:
don't drink the beer.

Gedrich and friends go to the
Berkley Front on Twelve Mile, home
to another huge selection.
"It's fun to try out all that differ-
ent stuff," says Gedrich, 29.
Maybe the mushrooming number
of microbrews makes beer drinking
attractive = now it's cool to know
the latest designer beer and what
special brewing process gives it such
a unique flavor.
Regardless, twentysomething Jews
are definitely a boost to beer sales.
Maybe someday we'll even get our
own commercial.

I can picture it now: It's the sec-
ond quarter of the Super Bowl,
and there's a commercial break. After
the Pepsi bears stop dancing, you
hear the sounds of a Shabbat eve.
Lights focus in on a ring of Jewish
men, tzitzit flying around as they
dance in a circle. Why are they so
joyous?
With some quick camera work,
the answer shows up in the center
of the circle: A brimming keg of
Bud. ❑

SCENE on page 84

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.

Many young Jews have had a sim-
ilar start. Try it out, get used to the
taste, and then start picking
favorites.
Marc Reeves, a Kalamazoo
College grad, is on a never-ending
hunt for Bell's Beer, brewed in
Kalamazoo. Now a law student in
New Orleans, he pines away for his
Midwestern treasure, available only
in Michigan and Chicago.
"My friends coming down here
from Chicago know they have to
bring Bell's, or they're sleeping on
the porch," Reeves jokes. "I saved
the ones I had last year so I could
drink one after every exam."
Steve Gluck, 29, is cut from the
same cloth. He attributes his love for
English ales to his British ancestry
and some traipsing around the U.K.,
where he soaked up some great pub
tales.
"In Ireland, southerners drink
Murphy's, and northerners drink
Guinness," Gluck explains. "You
better remember where you are when
you're ordering, or it doesn't go over
too well."

•

11/28
1997

77