It is almost instinct that prompts my anticipation for cellar-temperature (50F) ale or a keller-temperature (40F) lager-style brew. It is the same instinct tells me that a cheese, fruit or soup is being presented at its optimum temperature. This instinct has been honed by education and experience to a keen appreciation. Nevertheless… there are times when I truly enjoy ice-cold American mass-produced, straw-colored, lager-style, and fizzy beer.

The scenario must be seaside or mountain rural rustic. The experience should be something shared with no more than three other souls, two of whom may be canine.

The subsistence level should be essential and the cuisine hearty, preparation involving little more than boiling, roasting or grilling.

Any of the four seasons, in any intensity, will suffice. However, I prefer either late summer or mid-autumn.

Rather than a rural lifestyle a la Richard Olney, my preference is for a Jack London slice of life.

This is not a reaction to the effete, rather a reflection of affection for the mountains developed during my years at university. There I also developed affection for ice-cold canned malt beverages a la mode.

Combine the rural setting, the tranquil environment and the rustic cuisine and the subtleties of specialty brews loose to the essential quenching properties of an ice-cold beverage with the mild but not debilitating properties of it being a relatively low-level beverage alcohol. This is the beverage that fits into that experience.

And, as I remember it, the song goes… “To everything there is a season and a beer for every purpose under heaven.”