I have empirically determined that it is impossible to be in a bad mood when drinking an Anchor Steam. This is the perfect beer for a warm sunny afternoon outside (sorry, I know its hometown of San Fransisco is hardly the sunshine capital of the West Coast). Its light and smooth, hoppy yet refined. I simply associate it with brightness. It is the first bornn son of the Anchor beers, and as such should hold a special place in every beer lover's heart.

Many people already know the story of Anchor Brewing, but for those who don't, here is my bastardized version of my favorite bedtime story. In the post World War II period the once great microbreweries of the West coast were seeing hard times. Few had made it through prohibition, and of those that survived, only Anchor Brewing was left in 1965. About a week before it was scheduled to close, a young man entered the brewpub. After enjoying a few Anchor Steams and hearing that the brewery would soon be closing, he decided to do something about it. The young man was Fritz Maytag, the son of the Maytag Appliances family. He sold several of his shares in his family's company and bought the brewery so that it could continue to do that which it did best, make beer. Fritz did not have an easy time running his new brewery, but he stuck with it, and it is now one of the best and most wel known microbreweries in America.

Thank God for good taste. Amidst all of the garbage beer that was becoming increasingly popular in the 1960's, at least one man took a stand for a quality product. I don't know for sure, but I imagine that Fritz Maytag was not driven by the possibility of monetary reward for his endeavors, nor was he driven by aspirations of fame. I see Fritz as a man who was driven by the appreciation of a quality product and the respect of a noble art form which tragically almost died. I should mention that Maytag also makes the finest blue cheese in the United States. What I wouldn't give to have Thanksgiving dinner with the Maytag family. Quality tastes and the respect for the culinary arts. What more could anyone ask for?

Harp Lager
Arthur Guinness and Son. Dublin, Ireland

Now, here's a good beer. I wouldn't classify it as an earth shatteringly outstanding brew, but it is nonetheless a damn good beer. When someone says the word beer, the taste that pops into my mind is that of a Harp. Its not flashy, brilliant, heavy or airy. Its kind of the standard by which I judge other beers. But, the thing is, there's something inherently beautiful about that standard. In the age of macrobreweries which favor quantity over quality, Arthur Guinness and Son have managed to demonstrate that quantity and quality are not mutually exclusive. Harp is a mass produced quality beer. For all of the American corporate giants who are obsessed with attempting to tap into the market of real beers, I say take a lesson from Harp. Take all of your bells and whistles and stick them up the South end of your favorite Clydesdale. Just shut up and make a good beer.

Yuengling Lager
D.G. Yuengling and Son. Pottsville, Pennsylvania

Score one for the home team. To me, Yuengling Lager is the taste of home. Not as fancy or adventuresome as some of its competitors, but a good solid brew that has been there for a long time (it is 'America's Oldest Brewery,' after all) and will likely remain there for quite a while longer. Its color is amber and usually a little cloudy, with a mellow taste that will quench a thirst as well as soothe a palate. Made in Pennsylvania Dutch country, one can taste the German influence combined with American ingenuity.

If you have read this far you can probably tell that beer to me is as much about memories as it is about taste. My memories with Yuengling could probably fill a book. Yuengling flows through practically every family gathering I've been to, and not always out of a desire to keep various family factions sedated. All of the cousins, both mom and dad, and most of the people I grew up with all enjoy the stuff. In college there were good times to be had when Whitsel, Belski the Pollock, Junior and I would splurge on a case or two of Yuengling.

However, no story of Yuengling at least as it pertains to this wayward fan would be complete without a recap of one yearly event. My cousins are huge fans of the Baltimore Orioles, and once a year we would all pile into my van and go see a game. Upon arriving at the stadium, we would sit in the parking lot and drink Yuengling for at least the first two innings. Justin would tune the game in on the radio, my friend Matt Bowman who usually came along with us would play bartender, and Rick would turn the stadium parking lot into Maryland's largest outdoor public restroom.

One year we had the good luck of seeing a double-header, which not only meant an elongated stay in the parking lot, but twice as long to watch Rick scream at the umpire. Between the two games many of the fans left and the stadium quieted down. The O's were playing the Cleveland Indians. At the time, Cousin Justin's favorite player, Eddie Murray, was playing first base for the tribe. As luck would have it, we were seated directly behind first base. So, as the tribe was warming up, Justin and Rick went down to the first row and cheered for Eddie. After about five minutes of, "We love you Eddie," "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie," and "go get'em Eddie" during which time Eddie did not so much as spit in their direction, they came back up to our seats. I asked Justin how he could show so much affection to someone who wouldn't even acknowledge his devoted fans who still came out to cheer for him even after years after he had left Baltimore. Justin replied, "Well that's why we love him cousin, he's all class."

Eddie Murray, Cousin Justin, and Yuengling Lager. Not showboats, just good solid hallmarks of the home team. I understand that there have been a few Yuenglings poured over Justin's grave in the years since he left us. I sure miss the Cousin. I think of him every time I crack open a Yuengling, which needless to say is quite a bit.