OnTap Magazine

I still remember the first time I walked into an establishment that served craft beer. I was in my late 20s and I did not know what was going on. You have to understand that I was a boertjie from the platteland, and up to that point, I thought beer was lager and lager was beer. I had heard of things such as mead and ale but I was very much under the impression that those things, much like elves and dwarves, were only to be found in the lands of Middle-earth. I had no idea that real people in the real world were still consuming anything else other than Castle or Black Label. Windhoek if they were really fancy. But there I was, a simple Saffa in Korea’s second city of Busan, surrounded by hipsters from Oregon. If you are struggling to fully comprehend that sentence, just imagine Jack Parow hanging out with the gang from 30 Seconds To Mars in Tokyo. I was the odd one out and I was finding myself in very scary surroundings. Above the bar, there was this big blackboard with all the names of the beers the place served, and not a single one of those names read Heineken or Budweiser or Please-God-Help-Me. No, instead the names came at me in the form of abbreviations, and most of those abbreviations could not even have the decency to be in a language I knew for a fact existed. I wanted my mommy. But like a big boy, I soldiered on, and with much pretend confidence, I ordered myself an IPA. And when I say that I ordered an IPA, I do not mean that I ordered an I-P-A. No, not me. What I did was order myself a nice EEPA . Suffice it to say, the hipsters were amused by my performance, not that I am complaining. When alcohol is being shared amongst friends, somebody needs to have a good time, even if it is at my expense. About five minutes later my EEPA was placed in front of me and my drinking habits were about to be changed forever. I can still remember how I wrapped my fingers around that cold, soothing glass and brought it up to my mouth. I will never forget those otherworldly smells that wafted their way up my nostrils or that amazing bitter taste that totally shocked my tongue into a different dimension. It was right there and then that my long love affair with Black Label came to an abrupt end. The good old zamalek had served its purpose – mostly, if I’m honest, to get me drunk like no beer has before. But now I had grown up and so had my tastes. It was the moment that I finally realised that beer could be had for its flavour and not just for its alcoholic content. It was the day I became a man. TELL THE BARTENDER GOT A BEERY TALE TO SHARE? Send it to lucy@ontapmag.co.za and you might just see your name in print. If your story is chosen for publication, you’ll get a year’s subscription to On Tap on us! CHRISTO KROG When alcohol is being shared amongst friends, somebody needs to have a good time, even if it is at my expense. MY FIRST ENCOUNTERWITH 'EEPA' WIN 20 / On Tap / Autumn 2018