Unless you grow up amongst Irish heritage, it’s uncommon that your early drinking days consist of much Guinness. It’s something you grow into, mature towards, and find on the long and winding road to alcoholism. It felt like something I had to earn but nowadays everyone with a moustache and a corduroy shirt seems entitled to one. *
Exempting the years of drinking a concoction of spirits and lemonade from an unlabelled two-litre bottle in a park at 6pm on some idle Wednesday before attending the local fun fair, my drinking journey began on my 18th birthday when I ordered a pint of Fosters in my local Wetherspoons, J. J. Moons (Moons). **
A great big lager drinker. I sometimes wonder what ordering a Fosters as my first legal pint meant for me as a person, what does that say about me? Budweiser had kept me company at many house parties up until that day and the twisty bottle caps had made me feel like a real hard man but there I was on my 18th birthday, an actual man, and I chose a dull, fizzy, shandy-able Fosters, was it any wonder or should I have known better?
Alas, when such a thing happens to a person you convince yourself it is normal and by all accounts and purposes I guess it was. I kept drinking lager, but I decided I hated Fosters, disgusting, pointless, and crass, an idiot's pint. And when Moons implemented Kronenberg into their selection it was go-time. My favourite trivia question became asking people what year Kronenburg was founded because when it's right in front of you it’s even funnier when they don’t get it. ***
Now my first actual sip of Guinness came when I was 17. I never even considered it an option; why would I want a pint of something that looks like tar? But then my little big sister ordered a pint of Guinness when we were at a pub in Edinburgh. I asked for a sip with equal caution and curiosity, and I wasn’t disgusted, it didn’t taste like tar, there were hints of coffee and a smoothness of cream but no tar. I wasn’t sure either, something had changed- I just wasn’t sure what… yet.
Flash forward to 19, a year into drinking the same lagers and occasional cheap IPA and I am at an Irish pub where one of my friends works, Hennessey’s, and I’ve heard the Guinness there is something to behold. Most people there drink Guinness and so it seemed natural for me to order one. Battling passed the foam I drank it fairly quickly having been used to the speed of lager drinkers, I slammed it down on the table and a feeling came over me. A full feeling, like I’d just eaten a whole frozen chocolate fudge cake. A cold and a warmth of equal measure. I was uncomfortable. However, after five minutes I felt better than I ever had consumed by the bubbles of lager.
I think this is for me.
It's a wonderful thought to feel like you’ve found something that you connect with. It wasn’t like when I heard Arctic Monkeys for the first time and within the first ten seconds of Do I Wanna Know? I knew I would be obsessed; it was more like when I heard Prince for the first time and I was unsure but curious all the same, and much like Prince’s discography, Guinness grew to be in my mind, one of the best things humans have come up with. It felt like I had grown.
Guinness became my reflex order so much so that I decided to try and have a break and go back to lager once. When I sipped on my chosen Moretti I couldn’t help but feel like an unfaithful husband, so I crawled back to Guinness for forgiveness. I can’t help it, she’s mine and I’m hers and that will always be the case. Guinness suits every meal, occasion and mood. It has the zeal and jest of a clubbing night out and the class and romance of an anniversary dinner.
Of course if you love Guinness you have to taste the source material, so my friends and I took a trip to Ireland visiting one of our friends families. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the best cure for a Guinness hangover is made up of four things:
1. A Shit (usually a black one)
2. A Shower
3. Some Scran
But most importantly…
4. The Sound of a fiddle
The Guinness tastes good, but I think what makes it so good there is the fact you’re in Ireland. Having said that a bad Guinness is BAD and angers me- Wetherspoons I’m talking to you!
It happens that the friend whose family we were visiting somehow agreed to be my girlfriend and in some perverse way I believe I have Guinness to thank for my relationship. Much like Guinness she is bold, cheerful, and requires patience. ****
And now everyone drinks Guinness! What’s that about?! I don’t want to be that guy but I was drinking it before it was “trendy” and take pride in it although I am happy its getting the recognition that it deserves. I must say I do love splitting a good G.
Every time I go to a new city I have an urge to hunt down the best Guinness the city has to offer and here are the results so far:
Manchester: Mulligans*****
Bristol: Seamus O’Donnell’s
London (not the best place for Guinness): The Wellington Westminster and Hennessey’s Ruislip Manor.
Safe to say I haven’t gone very far.
Basically what I’m trying to say is… I love Guinness.
*I possess both of these things.
**Funderpark- renamed, after “Thunder Park” just didn’t quite hit.
***It’s 1664 you fool!
**** …and worth the wait.
*****I know it’s an obvious choice, but I thought it was great.
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