How I became a growler guy

I like beer. Sometimes it loves me back. These days we only get together on the weekends, which is good because if we see each other too often I get a headache.

Man Holding Ice Pack On Head.

Until this Thanksgiving, my post-college retail beer purchases had been relegated to cans or bottles. But now I’m on board the growler bandwagon. I know I’m late to the party – and all the hipsters have been there a while – but I didn’t think growlers made sense for me. Because I drink beers so infrequently, and when I do I only have a few, I thought a growler would just mean that I’d buy a half-gallon of beer and most of it would go bad and I’ve have to toss it. Somewhat akin to buying a 5-gallon vat of mayonnaise at a club store. And I hate wasting money. I’m worse than this guy:

But if you do the math, a 64-oz. growler is a mere 4 pints, and you can get it filled a lot cheaper than buying 4 pints at a bar or taproom. A lot of the startup craft breweries aren’t even canning or bottling their product yet, so the growler is the only way to take some home with you. My first growler fill was a limited edition Opera Cream Stout from Blank Slate Brewing. It’s delightful, but only available for a few weeks each year. Short of taking up residency in the Blank Slate taproom, my growler was the best way to prolong the enjoyment.

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A growler is perfect for trying out new beers, too… enough to determine whether or not you like it, without getting stuck with leftover cans or bottles in your fridge. It’s a nice way to bring beer to parties as well.

All this beer talk has left me parched. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get a refill…

 

 

 

 

 

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