11 Reasons to take PBR to a Desert Island
One of my favorite beers is Pabst Blue Ribbon. Of course, among beer sophisticates, this seems shameful. Admitting a love of PBR feels like admitting that I enjoy picking my nose, especially when I can find a really big booger. Of course, I don’t enjoy picking my nose (nor do I do it), but I do enjoy PBR. And, unlike nose picking, I like PBR in spite of a host of other available options. (For the record, there really aren’t that many tenable alternative orifices to the nose.)
I always come back to PBR because it just works: it unapologetically is what it is. There are a lot of beers which have rough edges or which don’t seem sure about their identity. A wandering malt note or a meandering hop character can be fascinating and rewarding, but sometimes I just want a beer to be as it is. PBR isn’t searching, it isn’t stretching a style, it isn’t creating something new, and it isn’t setting out to educate my palette any more than necessary. It’s a workhorse of a session beer.
There are exactly two beers I’d consider taking with me to a desert island to drink until I inevitably die of alcohol poisoning before starvation. (Let’s be realistic, shall we… there are worse ways to die.) One is PBR, and–in the grand tradition of the interent–I have created a list of 11 reasons to make PBR the beer I’d consider dying with:
1. PBR comes in a can. I like cans: they keep beer fresh, and if death takes longer to arrive I’d like fresh beer until the end. Also, aluminum cans are shiny on the inside and could, with a modest amount of effort, perhaps be fashioned into a reflector to signal planes or ships. I suspect that the beer itself pairs well with false or faint hope.
2. PBR is drinkable, even in the heat. It possesses all the qualities of a refreshing American Lager: light and refreshing. And a lager. And, um, American… the point is that you can drink it.
3. PBR is light, and not just in flavor but also in body. By the second day of a big American IPA, I’d be bloated and full feeling. PBR is easy to throw back in quantity, delaying my resemblance–real or imagined–to a floating corpse.
4. PBR reminds me of home. Say what you will about my redneck past, but PBR is comforting. This beer tastes the same today as it did when I was a kid sneaking sips.
5. PBR goes with almost anything: it pairs with fish, coconuts, and probably seaweed. I’ve had PBR to good effect with Italian, Mexican, and any number of Asian cuisines. The beer simply does not have a bad pairing to my palette.
6. PBR has serious hipster street cred. Not only do they advertise on NPR, but they’ve been winning awards for over one hundred years. If there are island natives, I’d like them to know I’m cool before they kill me.
7. PBR has a modest alcohol content. If I’m going to drink all day, I want a beer with just enough to generate a buzz to lift the mood. After all, there is no reason be depressed about dying on a desert island.
8. PBR has malt, and malt is a lot of the character in beer. PBR’s malt notes aren’t blown away by hops or overdone to the point of obviousness (I love caramel and toast as much as the next guy, but I don’t need it to be a dominant tasting note in every beer I drink all the time).
9. PBR has balanced hops. Sure, I like hops, but I also like well balanced beers. PBR is a throwing knife of a beer: perfectly balanced with not an ounce too much in either direction. This is an achievement in and of itself, and one of the reasons the American Lager style is so hard to homebrew or microbrew: a delicate beer is much harder to balance than something with shovelfuls of ingredients.
10. PBR is a real beer, with real tasting notes and a legitimate style. People often consider American Lager a “fake” beer style, but the style is older and better established than those of many celebrated beers.
11. Even my wife likes PBR. You never know, she may get stuck with me on the island. And, if my wife likes a beer, it’s accessible to almost anyone. Since anyone could stop by my island, I intend to be prepared.
So, my summer recommendation is to pick up some PBR. A six pack is cheaper than a triple-shot, iced frappucino, and it will be gone almost as fast (especially if you invite a friend over). PBR isn’t the best beer ever, but it’s certainly a guilty pleasure or an interesting diversion perfectly designed for summer heat.
I do not, for the record, recommend being stranded on a desert island.
smole, 
Levy, 
smole 9:57 am on August 22, 2009 Permalink |
My fact checker was unavailable for this, so I relay this question to the NMD kids: is it “desert” island or “deserted” island? Obviously, I have a preference for “desert,” but it is only a preference.
Karen 7:52 pm on September 1, 2009 Permalink |
It’s probably absurdly late to post this but anyway using google as an authority, “desert island” wins with 17m search results compared to “deserted island” with 1m.
smole 9:04 pm on September 2, 2009 Permalink
Glad to hear that the kids support the decision. Or the Google. Whichever. I’m flexible.
Levy 1:21 pm on October 7, 2009 Permalink |
Wow, I haven’t been on this site in like two months… damn. As a follow up to this, could you write an article about what beer you’d want if you were stuck on a dessert island? You know, an island where cupcakes and twinkies frolic in the surf and you can pick chocoloate-covered strawberries right off the vine.
smole 9:36 pm on October 7, 2009 Permalink
Sure… it’s either something hoppy or something like a good, sweet porter or stout. Hmm… Who am I kidding? it’s something hoppy.
Beer Products: Beer Spray Down « No Mixed Drinks 9:17 pm on September 3, 2009 Permalink |
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