BECK’S
InBev
Germany, 5% ABV
I remember the day I discovered Beck’s with great fondness. I say remember, it’s all quite hazy after drink number five, but what remains in my mind is the realisation that Beck’s is a decidedly regal lager – some might call it the real king of beers. I affectionately flirted with the bottled variety earlier in my drinking career, but never committed to moving away from the familiarity of Stella or the swoon-making satisfaction of Heineken until I spotted that Beck’s was available on tap. From that moment, Beck’s became the first name on the team sheet on a night out. I found myself swerving towards bars in whose doorways I would not normally pause to urinate, drawn by the glistening silver pump. Why? Aside from the obvious downright moreishness of the thing – proven by the fact that many people, including myself, are repeatedly willing to shell out upwards of three pounds for the stuff – the taste is unrivalled. It’s a slice of Bremen perfection, peripherally sweet and fruity, but with a body that would make a nun blush. It blitzes down the throat shouting Achtung Schweinehund! and Schnell! making powerful Bavarian love to the taste buds. And you can definitely tell it’s not from ‘round here’ – it’s zingy and pleasurably metallic, borne of water that has not been flavoured with abandoned shopping trolley. Beck’s is remarkable in so many ways – notably that it inspires poetic adjectives in men who usually eat kebabs on Tuesdays. Sober. SG
