Beer summit: If this was a "teachable moment," then why did Obama drink Bud Light (two self-evident mistakes there), and Biden, a non-alcoholic Buckler? Gates and Crowley showed far better taste in the choice of, respectively, our fine local Sam Adams (though again a light) and Blue Moon. An educational opportunity squandered.
Several brewing companies sought to use the opportunity to promote their products, in the process developing various ingenious historical-political rationales to support the choice of their brand:
Yuengling of Pennsylvania said,
”Family owned and operated since 1829, we've been a part of conflict resolution for over 180 years!"
Sierra Nevada argued:
“We believe that we are the perfect fit for the matter at hand, and a great choice to represent and facilitate the resilience and understanding of the American people. Sierra Nevada [can] reinforce the idea that whether black or white, rich or poor, we are all first and foremost Americans. American citizens should support American beer.
“Think global, drink local."
Of course, the religious fanatics did not hesitate to condemn the summit as fostering the corruption of youth, that argument didn’t seem to get any traction with the mass of the population, which was mostly curious about which bottles would end up on the table (and, oh yes, secondarily, in the substance of the conversation that they would accompany).
Two light beers and one non-alcoholic one? A great teachable moment squandered.
We are a long way from the advanced culture of the Czech Republic, as
Radio Praha affirms:
Ex-President Vaclav Havel may be the best spokesman beer has ever had in the Czech Republic, at least in public office. Havel loves to take visiting politicians to pubs. He once skipped a function in the U.S. to go drink beer and watch John Cale. In fact, one of Havel's plays is based on the time he spent working in a brewery before the Revolution.
"I suppose that drinking beer in pubs has got a good influence on the behaviour of Czech society, because beer contains less alcohol than for example wine, vodka or whisky and therefore people's polical chat in pubs is less crazy."
This was actually very similar to the attitude of German and other Central European immigrants to Wisconsin in the 19th century. They were in the habit of taking the whole family, children included, to events at which beer was served. This scandalized the prudes. To the Germans, Czechs, and other new arrivals, however, beer, consumed in moderation, was simply part and parcel of an ordinary meal and daily conviviality. What horrified them, by contrast, was the apparent American belief that a normal relationship with alcohol consisted of one man and one bottle of whiskey in a saloon.
To return to the White House:
It was a particular disgrace that Budweiser was featured (the "light" in Bud light is self-evidently execrable). In the first place, it's awful beer. The color alone—or lack thereof—sends shivers down the spine. In the second place, Budweiser uses corn and rice, and so, its products would not even qualify as beer by traditional Central European standards (the famous German beer purity law allows only hops, malt, and water. The English long rejected hops as some sort of bizarre continental toxic additive, but that's another episode in that nation's vexed relationship with culinary arts and gustatory pleasures). Third, and finally: to add insult to injury, Budweiser used the full power of its monetary and legal resources to assert its claim to use the name of the famous South Bohemian beer town (German: Budweis; Czech: České Budějovice) in marketing its insipid liquid, while the original breweries of that noble city are forced to sell under the names of Budvar and Czechvar here in the States. (The
Wikipedia entry for the city cleverly and delicately states that "The American lager was originally brewed as an imitation of the famous Czech original but over time has developed its own identity and attained remarkable commercial success"—the emphasis should be on "remarkable," of course. But I digress.)
Still, the Democrats have learned something since the
notorious day when Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis invited two down-to-earth labor leaders to his house, asked, “Can I get you guys a beer?”, and returned with a bottle and two glasses. He got creamed in the presidential election.
To recap: Four bottles—two lights and one non-alcoholic—for four guys? Not yet up to Czech standards, but we're learning.
As for me, I've been enjoying a good old-fashioned American Leinenkugel's ("The Pride of Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin Since 1867").
Here, a proper Czech meal with beverages:
Those interested in pursuing the history of the
American relationship to beer would do well to consult the recent book by our colleague
Amy Mittleman.
