Can you separate the beer from the food?

“Can you keep the beer separate from the food”? the weary-eyed business traveler to my left asks the bartender. Keeping his life of 9-5 separate from his at least formerly wild life of the evenings, he has a dejected look in his eyes as they divert from the vibrant surroundings to a workplace-enterprise-enabled Blackberry. The people that pay for that Blackberry pay for the food…but they don’t pay for what you really like…my weary-eyed business traveler. I’m sipping a cask-conditioned IPA in Richmond’s Capital Ale House. I have had so far a collaboration by The Bruery and a Hardywood Gingerbread Stout, a local, lactic-fermented locally-grown ginger-infused milk stout. Something made me head toward the cask ales after the gingerbread. I’ve had a few before, but haven’t dug them. It was frankly a sub-culture that frightened me. Weird dudes who love KOA campgrounds, Hungry Man frozen meals, and Battlestar Gallactica....not wannabee beer nerds like me. The cask, or “real” ale, in question, is St. George IPA from Hampton, VA. The menu describes the 100% fuggle hops as spicy. While there is a lingering spice, after the gentle-but-evident caramel malt that comes forward, there is a bright, fresh, bordering tangerine/apricot finish to this beer. The look is somewhere between a tangerine so described and a caramel that Will Hunting wants to eat with Skyla. As I continually and uncontrollably avert my gaze from this computer screen to the Imperial pint of delectability to my left, I can finally dig why this real ale thing is such an obsession. Aside from the intrigue of a beer changing and evolving while in a cask, adding a whole new dynamic to what we all love so much, the product itself is truly amazing. Lacing on the ribbed pint that is as mesmerizing to look at as a Warhol, beautiful coloring, and a longing for my next sip. After tasting many young/green beers in the primary or brights, I have gotten over the American obsession with sub-Arctic serving temperatures and club-soda-levels of carbonation. I can appreciate a beer at room temp or “cellar” temps with minimal or no carbonation. Yes, effervescent frigid beers have their place, like D-cups, Wal-mart, and most other things “American”. We just need to remember that ‘after all it was a great big world….with lots of places to run to…[to drink]”. My problem with beer and food has always been the carbonation. These beers get to the stomach, the bubbles burst, and voila, we are bloated beyond belief. We are taught in high school or, in some unfortunate souls’ cases, college, to gas back beers to feel good...an American tradition. People in other parts of the world are taught to drink beer a little differently. Sipping on a moderately-carbed, sessionable mild, stout, or any cask ale for that matter, while enjoying hours upon hours of moderate laughs in a pub is not part of our culture. Beer Sticks, Beer Bongs, quarters, Beirut (Beer Pong to me), shotgunned Natty Ices, and outright frattiness are. Maybe its taken 32 years and a random trip to Virginia’s capital to appreciate a bright, bitter, complex, and drinkable ale that I would love to throw back with a steak. Garrett Oliver would be proud. So, no, weary-eyed traveler, having had my first real ale epiphany, I cannot keep the beer separate from the food.