A Taste of Home

Aside from rivers (or any naturally occurring body of water, for that matter) and my friends, the thing I miss most about home is the beer culture – an enthusiasm for microbrews you can taste (pun intended).  I know there are breweries down here in SoCal and I’ve even been to a brewpub in Big Bear (the stout? porter? oh, right…doppel bock I had was quite good, but obviously not memorable. In any case, that’s a story for another time.), but the brew-tmosphere that pervaded my social life in Portland keeps duckin’ me in LA.  Beer takes a backseat to higher conversation, such as who’s cheatin’ who (who’s bein’ true…and who don’t even care anymore), how Angelenos are SO over Ed Hardy, or the latest stupid Glenn Beck stunt.

Working in the San Bernardinos does make it a bit difficult to procure a decent micro, if only because my favorite dives hardly even have taps – let alone microbrews on tap.  None of my coworkers had even heard of Drop Top.  Sigh.

This brings me to the two most uplifting episodes/anecdotes in my beer diaspora so far: the Beer Angel at a gas station in Burbank and the Hefeweizen Fairy at Tony Roma’s in Universal CityWalk.

Chronologically first, the Beer Angel was gassin’ up behind me at a Costco (SO economical – read: cheap. Yesssssss!).  He eyed my Oregon plates a while, doubtless pondering which stereORtype to pursue for a quick yet fulfilling gas station exchange.  To my lingering joy, he struck out with a quick “Hey, next time you’re in Portland will you pick up a bunch of microbrews for me?  Yeah, just stop over at the Kennedy School and maybe get some Widmer, too.”  Oh man – I almost burst, I was so happy!  I kindly let him know that I’d try, but could make no guarantees the goods would survive me before they were delivered.  He understood both my voracity for Portland beer and my frustration with the lack of accessibility on par with home’s offerings.  Refreshed, I went off to work; coincidentally (or was it?!),  it was my Civil War game GO DUCKS spirit week at work – great timing, gas station Beer Angel.

Most recently, though, I discovered a somewhat reliable non-LA-bar source for a Portland Beer fix: LA chain restaurants!  Much better, I know.  🙂  My best friend flew in on her way to visit her dad in Texas, so her brother and I have been showing her the sights/malls.  CityWalk was on our agenda for the big ol’ Universal globe, so we decided to see Avatar while we were there.  The showing we wanted was sold out, so we caught dinner at Tony Roma’s after we bought tickets to the next available showing.  I’d been avoiding eating out because a) I’m trying to pay off my student loans and b) I don’t make that much money in the first place.

Anyway, this time I was rewarded with a long list of options…rapidly rattled off.  “Coor’s Light, Bud Light, Hefeweizen, …”  Stop right there, Sir.  Whose Hef?  “Uh…Wid…meeeeeeear?”  WIDMER?!?!?!  Yes, please.  “Small or large?”  After much deliberation, I went big.  Real big.  25 ounces big, in fact.  Oh-so-very worth it.

Mug of Widmer Hef

Pinkies up, ladies!

  1. really? no tea? rofl. yeah that is huge. that’s like what everyone has in Armada. it’s my small town. we’re hicks.

    • Alana Kansaku-Sarmiento
    • December 28th, 2009

    I. Love. This.

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