This series of posts is dedicated to the many, many six packs, pony kegs and pints that have sauntered into my life at one point or another.
Everyone should have the blessing of a local brewery in the town where they attend college. I don’t mean one of the fancy brewers that dominate my current city of residence. Instead, I mean the kind of place that’s been around decades, serving its hometown with sudsy dedication. Being a devoted good kid throughout high school, I’m proud to say that a Point Special in the can (known affectionately as a “Blue Bullet”) was the first beer I ever drank. It’s just a plain old lager, clearly brewed the same way it’s been for years, with a just hint of sharp, delectable tinniness to it. It tastes like a pure American beer, not all that different, really, from the lower end stuff that floods and dominates the national market (and Superbowl ad buys), except for a little more heft, ultimately less reliance on the watery composition that other brewers rely on to make their product go down too easily. For most of the beer’s existence, the folks producing Point Special knew that their primary consumer was within walking distance and could march right through the brewery’s door with a complaint if they didn’t like what they were drinking. That seems to have informed a devotion to getting it right. Or maybe I just think that because it remains, even with decidedly more complex and admittedly better competitors, my favorite beer. To me, Point Special tastes like home.