(The headline would work better with a backdrop of the mountains rather than the neighbors' back yard, but my parents' house isn't laid out properly. We make do with what we have.)
I only come back here two, three times a year. In the intervening months, memories fade, I convince myself that it has some competition. But then I come back, and I'm invariably reminded:
Fat Tire is the best beer in the entire world.
Oh, the Irish, the Czechs, the Oregonians, the Californians, the Brits -- they all make good beer. And in a pinch, it'll do. But when I come back here, I have eyes and taste buds for no other.
Unfortunately, it isn't distributed anywhere east of the Mississippi, for reasons I can't recall now -- perhaps because it's such a beautiful creation that it wouldn't ship properly. And Georgia is east of the Mississippi. Really. You can look it up. The nearest state that has it is Arkansas (and I've just found my first impetus, ever, to go to Arkansas).
Those of you who can drink this magical brew on a regular basis -- I envy and salute you. Those of you who are likewise stuck in purgatory -- road trip to Arkansas?
Fat Tire is brewed by the New Belgium Brewery, and their other beers are pretty good, too. They deserve, at the very least, a Nobel Prize.