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.

I’m learning to be less precious about the beers I collect in my travels. These are for drinking, I remind myself, not mounting on a wall like prizes from a hideous safari hunt. Preservation is less valuable than consumption.

Still, I’m not not exactly racing through the sudsy souvenirs in the span of a weekend. Last week, I drank my last can of The Optimist, an IPA by Oregon’s Fort George Brewery, which I nabbed during an early summer trip to Portland. It is an ideal summer beer, favoring pleasant drinkability over the tongue-blast hoppiness the still defines the style for many beer drinkers.

For George Brewery wasn’t even on my list of coveted Pacific Northwest beer-makers when I went on that trip, but in making a final purchase at a local grocery story, a query to a hard-working gentleman stocking the shelves landed a six pack in my handcart. So this post is placed in my little corner of the digital world as a reminder as I prepare to do some scouting in the Souther state I once called home:  at the supermarket, trust guy with a dolly and a beer distribution company polo.