I’m an ale girl myself. With special attention paid to Arrogant Bastard from Stone Brewing Company on the West coast. I discovered this glorious beverage in, of all places, Washington PA, at Roland’s Trattoria, a small family restaurant run by our dear friends and neighbors Roland and Cheryl, and increasingly by their “beer snob” son Vince, God bless him. (Pro tip: Roland’s fried zucchini appetizer cannot be beat. Cheryl’s Italian Cream Pie, with cherries, ain’t bad, either.) But I digress. Back to the beer. Just as much as I love the beer, and the name, I love the motto printed on the front of every bottle–“YOU’RE NOT WORTHY”– and the patter that goes with it, printed on the back:
This is an aggressive beer. You probably won’t like it. It is quite doubtful that you have the taste or sophistication to be able to appreciate an ale of this quality and depth. We would suggest that you stick to safer and more familiar territory—maybe something with a multimillion-dollar ad campaign aimed at convincing you it’s made in a little brewery, or one that implies that their tasteless fizzy yellow beer will give you more sex appeal. Perhaps you think multimillion-dollar ad campaigns make a beer taste better. Perhaps you’re mouthing your words as you read this.
We believe that pandering to the lowest common denominator represents the height of tyranny—a virtual form of keeping the consumer barefoot and stupid. Brought forth upon an unsuspecting public in 1997, Arrogant Bastard Ale openly challenged the tyrannical overlords who were brazenly attempting to keep Americans chained in the shackles of poor taste. Since the very beginning, Arrogant Bastard Ale has reveled in its unprecedented and uncompromising celebration of intensity. There have been many nods to Arrogant Bastard Ale–even outright attempts to copy it–but only one can ever embody the true nature of Liquid Arrogance!
I’ll never forget my first time. Mr. Right and I were enjoying dinner at Roland’s, and Brittany (Vince’s soon-to-be wife, and, not long ago, the mother of his first son, because Roland’s is the sort of place where family comes first) did the rundown of the beers on tap and asked me what I’d like to drink. I said, “I’ll have an Arrogant Bastard, please.” Mr. Right, without missing a beat, piped up and said, “I thought there was room for only one arrogant bastard in your life.”
No, there’s always room for another. Why stop at two, after all?
What sort of beer floats your boat?