To call the person who first thought of “keep the glass night” a genius may not be doing them justice, because it basically combines two amazing things: beer and a trophy for drinking beer. I don’t see a downside.
When you explore new beers you can try to keep track of them in your head, record them in an app or digital checklist or even write them down on your favorite notepad. But if you have a glass, you have something physical to remember the event and a nifty vessel to put more beer into.
It just keeps getting better.
If you’ve never been to a keep the glass event, then you need to put it on your list. (Really. Check the events calendar.) They’re almost always on Wednesday evenings and feature a certain beer or a couple beers from a particular brewery. I recommend you get there early, especially if it’s a popular beer, because when they’re gone, they’re gone.
The rest is simple. You order your beer, drink it, and when you’re done, you keep your glass. But it’s not just a glass. It’s the physical hold-it-in-your-hand proof that you conquered another beer.
My wife once asked me if I had enough beer glasses. Without hesitation I answered, “No.”
“But they take up one entire cabinet,” she said.
“It’s not as if you and the kids can’t use them too,” I said. “They work great for soda.”
“That’s not the point,” she said. “You also have at least three boxes in the attic.”
“One of those boxes is packed with stoneware steins from Germany, and I plan to build a special shelf for them.”
“When?” she asked.
“When the time is right,” I said.
“How about when you have enough glasses?” she asked.
“Not possible,” I said.
The subject of how to creatively purge a massive beer glass collection will just have to wait for another time.
I love keep the glass night. It’s like getting an award for drinking beer. It ensures a winning evening. Sure you can buy similar glasses at liquor stores, but it’s not the same. I guess it feels like you earn the glass—each one different, each with its own unique tale to tell.
De gustibus non est disputandum.
With the explosion of craft beers, experimentation is on the rise and there are more and more beers to choose from. But this breadth of selection has pros and cons. There are so many different beers to try, to experience, to love and, sad to say, to disappoint.
I know. Blasphemy, right? Implying that one could experience a disappointing brew. It’s heartbreaking to hear, “No, I didn’t really like that beer.” Or worse, “I hate that beer.”
Hate? Really? We’ll just have to let that one go. There are clearly other issues going on.
The fact is that not everyone will greet a “complex” brew with an open mind—or should I say an open palate—and trust that the unconventional taste might have a story, an intention, a raison d’etre.
Even I’ve had experience with this. Two words: sour beer. I nearly spewed when I tasted my first genuine Berliner Weisse.
Now after one such experience some might draw the line, say “never again” and move on. Me? A few moments later I ordered another.
It’s complicated.
I enjoy a sour or tart beer on occasion, but not every day. Truth be told, I would never fill a growler with one. I need to be in the mood for it.
On a recent keep the glass event, I tried Adelbert’s Vintage Nun (out of Austin, Texas). The first sip was not what I was expecting. It had a wild, crisp, funky red wine tartness to it. It certainly had a story, perhaps something in the vein of Victor Hugo, but a story nonetheless.
Like I said, I have to be in the right mood for that kind of beer. Unfortunately I wasn’t.
But this, my friend, is the greatness of keep the glass night. I ordered the beer. I was committed. I drank it, slowly. It improved slightly, as beer usually does, but my heart was never in it. But all was not lost, because by the time I finished, the glass was mine. It’s a cool glass, too, shaped like a keg. It might even fit in the cabinet somewhere.
