Your Weekly Libation

Instead of recommending a cocktail this week, I'm gonna push a product from off-site that's near and dear to my heart: Woodchuck Dark & Dry 802 Draft Cider. Someone at Woodchuck's laboratories (filled with mad scientists and in a skull-shaped orchard, no doubt) heard my demands for a dryer, crisper cider, and they delivered in spades. It's not a full escape from the soda pop-sweetness mass-produced ciders all suffer, but it's definitely a step in the right direction.

So instead of getting yet another case of that Johnny-come-lately beer, stop by your local liquor store and try out a six-pack of Dark & Dry. If you aren't happy with your purchase, drink the remaining five bottles really fast, and you'll get happy pretty quickly.

-Jim out, mourning Cider's sad history

Cider tastes better than beer.

Yeah, I said it. And I'll say it again, in bold letters: CIDER IS BETTER THAN BEER. I'm not saying that beer is bad or anything, but I like hard cider better--and I shouldn't be mocked for the preference.

Go to a bar with your buddies. Plop down in the stool, get the bartender's attention. Ask for cider. Even if you're a 6 foot 5 Hell's Angel with "LOVE AND HATE" tattooed on your knuckles, bloodstains on your chopper, and a bandoleer across your chest, your pals are going to stare, possibly laugh, and probably ask if you're sure you don't want a Smirnoff Ice.

Screw that noise. I was introduced to cider by a 300-pound Irish bus driver who could pound pints of the black stuff for six hours straight and still want whiskey afterwards. That's pretty damn manly. And what's this association with Zima and "alcopops?" Cider was what you drank long before beer took hold in this country, with pints pounded down by everyone from hard-bitten frontiersmen to John Quincy Adams. It only lost its popularity when beer breweries arose near urban centers. And like so many other things, that was all the Germans' fault. Lousy Germans*.

Luckily, cider seems to be making a comeback--in England, anyway. It's nice to know that if I'm ever in London and I ask for a pint of Magner's or Scrumpy Jack, I won't get snickers or funny looks (which is good, because I am emphatically not a bloodthirsty Hell's Angel).

If you'd like to read a brief history of the drink I love so much, check out my article on the main site. And next time you see a guy asking futilely if the bar stocks Woodchuck, show some sympathy. An American cider-lover's existence is a torturous one.

*In reality, Jim has nothing against the Germans, nor does he wish they would "go back to Germania." He just wishes they wouldn't make such good beer.**
**If any Germans are offended, Jim deeply apologizes, as he knows that Germans are not "all smiles und sunshine."