The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, February 13, 2020 — 5B
During a drive to Ann Arbor
with three other people in
my car, I asked each of my
companions to queue two songs
on Spotify for us to listen to
along the way. Two were quick
to add their songs, but one of
my friends was hesitant to add
something to the queue. “I
don’t know what to add, just
skip me,” she insisted, but I
demanded two songs from her.
So she reluctantly queued two
songs.
I suspected her hesitance
stemmed from embarrassment
about her taste in music — I
wagered a guess it was K-pop.
The
first
track,
a
bossa-
nova-esque indie ballad, was
perfectly inoffensive to her
audience of artsy people in
the car. Then the second track
played: “dayfly” by Korean R&B
singer Dean.
“Were you nervous because
you
like
music
in
other
languages?”
I
immediately
asked. I told her, I may not
follow K-pop, but even I have
listened to Dean, and I think
his music slaps. Only then did
she spill her interest in Korean
R&B
and
other
genres
of
international music.
The last few years have seen
so many hobbies that were once
considered “nerdy” or “lame”
become mainstream and cool.
Video
games
are
vanilla.
Mid-40s office workers who
couldn’t name a single Pokémon
before 2015 are often the most
devoted of Pokémon Go players.
Just five years ago Reddit was
considered (by its users) to be a
geeky website you couldn’t talk
to other people about, but today
it’s almost as normal as using
Facebook — it usually hovers
in the top 10 or 20 most visited
sites on the web nowadays.
Still, there’s a hesitance to
fully embrace some of these
things.
Many
people
won’t
adopt the label “gamer” or
admit
the
true
extent
to
which they play video games.
Dungeons & Dragons players
remain
fairly
low-key.
The
breakout popularity of BTS has
still not fully normalized open
interest in K-pop, with many
listeners opting to keep it on
the down-low. Reading young
adult novels has seemed to
constantly fluctuate between
feeling “totally normal” and
“utterly uncool.”
I’ll never forget my chief
paranoia of 2012: hiding my
obsession with anime. There
was
nobody
going
around
saying “anime is for dweebs,”
but the pressure to hide my
hobby was like a heavy weight
over
my
shoulders.
Anime
turned out to be just a phase for
me, one that I would keep secret
for several more years. Then at
some point in college I finally
stopped caring and covered my
bedroom in posters of anime I
hadn’t watched in six or seven
years. It’s almost like I needed
to make up for all those years
repressing my hobby.
I know I wasn’t the only one
hiding it, and the feeling of
embarrassment still exists: A
plea for subtle anime wallpapers
was posted on Reddit just one
year ago (The caption reads:
“I need some new phone and
desktop wallpapers, but im
not going to expose myself as
a weeb to everyone i know just
yet.”) Though a sense of shame
seems to run particularly high
in the anime community, I can
imagine some K-pop fans or
D&D players similarly looking
for subtle ways to express their
passions
without
“outing”
themselves.
When I think deeply about
it, I struggle to pinpoint what
exactly is so “different” about
these “nerdier” interests. Maybe
the perceived obnoxiousness of
their fans, but there are just
as many bad apples in more
mainstream
fanbases
like
sports. So what’s responsible
for this overbearing sense of
shame and embarrassment?
I think most people are just
looking to feel welcome and
accepted, even at the expense
of showing who they really are.
Society has trained us to feel
validated by the thoughts of
others. Hiding our true selves
is an unfortunate consequence.
I say stop hiding what you
love. Taking pride in it is not a
cardinal sin.
As I’ve grown older I’ve
sought to shift the dynamic.
Today I prefer to make the
things that matter to me loud
and clear as a sort of litmus test.
I’ll proudly blast “Flamingo”
by Kero Kero Bonito out my
car windows, and if someone
were to give me a weird look
for listening to music sung in
Japanese, then they probably
aren’t worth getting to know.
On the same token, don’t take
your anime posters down before
bringing your Tinder match
into the bedroom. If they think
it’s weird, then they’re probably
not worth another date.
Watching anime is not a
sin: On media that’s uncool
B-SIDE: TV
B-SIDE: TV
DYLAN YONO
Daily Arts Writer
FREE SVG
The experience of devoting
nearly two hours of one’s life
to
watching
an
episode
of
“The Bachelor” is not only
transformatory, it is blissfully
sinful. On both sides of the screen,
people are being as unabashedly
awful as they please. Some
background on the show for
those who aren’t familiar: “The
Bachelor” is a reality TV show
where a cohort of 20+ women
is winnowed down to “the
one” by the bachelor himself, a
single man “dating” all of these
women at once. He chooses who
continues on the show by giving
the contestants a rose — if you
don’t receive a rose, you go home.
It’s a patently ridiculous concept
that gamifies love and dating in
a way that would be awful if we,
as a collective fanbase, didn’t
all agree that it was a complete
charade. Almost none of the
couples from “The Bachelor” or
its spinoffs, “The Bachelorette”
or “Bachelor in Paradise,” end
up still together a few months
after the show has ended. And
yet
every
single
contestant
walks into the competition the
first night claiming earnestly
that this man, who is dating 20
other women, is truly the love
of their life and their future
husband. I don’t mean to belittle
these women — among them
this season are an attorney, a
marketing executive, a foster
parent recruiter and a nursing
student — but the entire premise
of the show essentially destines
any relationship for failure.
Let me start by saying that
I love “The Bachelor” in a way
that should probably be a little
bit more ironic than it actually
is. As a snobby middle schooler,
I believed myself above the other
girls in my grade who gushed
about the bachelor and regaled
the drama from last Monday
night’s episode. This was my
first excursion into this sinful
experience, because while I
thought I was better than the
people who were amused by
such petty drama, I was actually
exhibiting the first deadly sin:
pride. The truth is, no one is
above watching “The Bachelor.”
You may think you’re better
than the men and women who
go on the show, but the truth is,
you’re letting your pride hold
you back from an experience
that will liberate you from the
stressful drama of actual daily
life and release you into a world
where the only thing you have to
worry about is whether Hannah
Ann intentionally stole Kelsey’s
champagne.
We
all
deserve
a break from the real world
sometimes, and “The Bachelor”
is the perfect way to indulge in
our sins. First of all, watching
someone else act in a blatantly
awful way when it has no actual
consequences
is
genuinely
incredible. I relish the moment
that one of the women gets up
from the couch and walks over
to Peter to say “Can I borrow
you for a minute?” because I
know for a fact that it will cause
drama that will have absolutely
no effect on me or the world
whatsoever.
The women on this show
consistently commit sins that
are nearly textbook in their
definitions.
Greed:
wanting
Peter all to themselves. Envy:
watching other girls date the
same man they are dating. Wrath:
(allegedly) stealing another girl’s
champagne to drink with Peter.
Pride: to quote one contestant,
Kelley, “The other girls are
children… Just look at me. I’m
an attorney.” Lust: this one goes
without saying. The key to “The
Bachelor’s” success, however, is
not just the sins on the screen.
It is the fact that the show
implicates its viewers in those
sins. Watching an episode from
a place of complete moral high
ground would be not only boring,
it would be painful. Luckily for
us, it is impossible to watch it
from a moral high ground. By
watching the show, the viewer is
absolutely implicated in the sin
that they are watching. This is
the beauty of reality television:
we must accept, or at least play
along with, the insane rules
that govern the show. That
acceptance instantly enmeshes
us in the same moral fabric of
the bachelor and the women
on the show. Not only are we
committing gluttony, by eating
potato chips and Twizzlers, and
sloth, by sitting in one spot and
doing nothing productive for two
hours, but we are susceptible to
every sin committed on screen.
But ultimately, there are worse
ways to sin. Why should we feel
bad for completely indulging in
our baser natures for two hours
a week on Mondays? Let yourself
get completely enveloped in the
unreal reality of “The Bachelor.”
Care deeply, for two hours, about
things that do not matter. Come
out on the other side, laughing at
yourself for getting so invested,
knowing you’ll do it again next
week.
The seven deadly sins:
‘The Bachelor’ Edition
ABC
EMILIA FERRANTE
Daily Arts Writer
Mead has unflattering image
problems, and the most common
imagery may be what you think of
at your local renaissance fair. That
drink is overly sweet yet insipid
— a drink you would reluctantly
sip as you wistfully pine for a
drier, sharp-tasting beer. You
may wonder how an ingredient
as aromatic and complex as honey
can be reduced to what amounts
to little more than alcoholic,
sweet and yellow water.
Compared to its more popular
cousins, beer and wine, mead
has yet to grab the attention of
mainstream culture. But the
production and quality of craft
mead has exploded within the
past decade, with some of the
finest meads coming from the
state of Michigan. At the center
of that boom is Schramm’s Mead,
the storefront of the eponymous
Ken Schramm: author of “The
Compleat
Meadmaker”
and
referred to by many mead-
brewers as “The Godfather of
Mead.”
Schramm’s Mead is located
within
a
cluster
of
well-
established
restaurants
of
Ferndale in the heart of Nine Mile
Road. You may find the storefront
of Schramm’s quite comely aside
from the garish American stars
with its blue background painted
on its side facing the parking lot.
Walking in, you find the interior
is anything but garish; you are
greeted by a warm, cozy bar and
tasting room and knowledgeable
bartenders passionate about the
meads they have on tap.
Before
I
encountered
Schramm’s Mead, I had been
indulging in sweeter dessert
wines such as the 2014 - 2016
batches of Chateau Ste. Michelle
Riesling. It’s a surprisingly crisp
but light drink — a wine that
almost reminds you of a dry-
sweet cider made from Granny
Smiths as opposed to a wine made
of white grapes. This is a drink
you savor on its own, perfect for
a night-in while binging Netflix.
Yet a dessert wine like this feels
somewhat incomplete. You crave
full-bodied drinks which possess
a thick, luscious mouthfeel that
complements
their
intensely
sweet and fruity profile. What
you crave, in essence, is an alcohol
unicorn to provide the perfect
finish to your day.
A brief look into Schramm’s
tasting
menu
shows
that
Schramm’s
specializes
in
melomels, meads which include
fruits along with honey in the
fermentation process. You may be
confused about this kind of mead
if your previous experiences with
mead were solely with ghostly
renaissance fair varieties. Given
the bias towards berries, you may
wonder whether these meads
have some passing resemblance to
young ruby port wines or perhaps
even to a Korean raspberry wine
called bokbunja.
Among
the
selections
are
the raspberry mead and the
blackberry
mead,
excellent
starting points for your adventure.
Upon first taste, you may be
stupefied by the sheer intensity
of honey flavor and aroma that
sings throughout each sip. The
tartness of either the raspberry
or the blackberry alleviates the
heavy-hitting sweetness of the
honey while also complementing
the honey with a fruity and jam-
like quality. Taking a second
sip,
you
are
intrigued
and
amazed at how the honey and
the berry harmoniously express
their
individuality
without
compromise, similar to the proud,
unabashed confidence of Shakira
and J.Lo performing “Let’s Get
Loud” at the LIV Superbowl
halftime.
Following the raspberry or
blackberry mead, you may be
piqued by the boldly-named “The
Statement” — a sour cherry mead.
Like the raspberry and blackberry
meads, the flavor of the Batalon
cherries melds inconspicuously
with the sweetness of the honey.
Fans of sour flavors may rejoice
to find that compared to the
raspberry or blackberry meads,
the sourness of the Batalon
cherries takes the center stage
compared to the sweetness of
the honey. “The Statement” is
reminiscent of the 1976 London
live performance of “Europa”
by Carlos Santana, in which the
sour tartness of the cherries
melodically riffs across your
tongue in the midst of honey-
like synthesizer melodic chord
progressions.
But perhaps no night is complete
without
trying
Schramm’s
“Heather” mead. Unlike most of
the other selections, “Heather,”
as its name suggests, consists
solely of Scottish Heather honey.
In contrast to many of Schramm’s
offerings, “Heather” provides a
flavor reminiscent of vanilla and
oak barrels — somewhat similar to
a whiskey, yet packed with a honey
aroma bordering on caramel.
Consider the possibility of the
“Heather” as a whiskey substitute
in an old-fashioned, or instead
simply enjoy “Heather” for the
drink that it is — a showstopping,
exclamatory punctuation to end
your mead-drinking experience.
You may be concerned that a
prerequisite to enjoying a bottle
of Schramm’s for your nightly
Netflix binges would involve
driving to Ferndale. Luckily,
Schramm’s is available across
many locations within the state
of Michigan, including Ann Arbor
stores such as Blue Front and Plum
Market. Not all of Schramm’s
products are available in these
locations. Notably, the “Heather”
is disappointingly missing from
these available meads.
In the cold, overcast winters
of the Midwest, any reminders
of warmth and sun provide a
welcome respite to an otherwise
dreary day. During the winter,
Schramm’s Mead is a powerful
but demure reminder of the
warmth and joy that lies ahead
of the harrowing weather. In the
height of spring and summer,
Schramm’s is a celebration of
nature’s luscious bounty that
flourishes
throughout
Pure
Michigan.
Schramm’s Mead is located at
327 W Nine Mile Rd, Ferndale, MI
48220.
Schramm’s Mead and the
case for beer’s alt-cousin
BRENDON CHO
For The Daily
B-SIDE: TV
B-SIDE: TV
B-SIDE: COMMUNITY CULTURE
Compared to its
more popular
cousins, beer
and wine, mead
has yet to grab
the attention
of mainstream
culture. But
the production
and quality of
craft mead has
exploded within
the past decade
The last few years have seen so many
hobbies that were once considered
“nerdy” or “lame” become mainstream
and cool