This being Valentine's month and all, I thought I would reminisce a little about my First Love.

For those of you, say, under 35 years old, there once was a time when good, craft-brewed beer was hard to find. You just didn't see it everywhere, with the exception maybe of a couple of establishments. And when I was 21 (1989, ouch), I wasn't yet sure I really cared or knew the difference.
College was all about the Schaefer barrels and Busch Light bar bottles. Yeah, we've all been there. Money talks. Or whispers, as the case may have been. You haven't lived until the furniture in your apartment is made out of Busch Light bar bottle cases. Ahh, sweet effervescent nostalgia. And yes, that was the last time I bought an AB product.

Then, it was all about the Rolling Rock. The "33" (how many times did you count the words on the backside of that bottle?). The green, painted-label bar bottle. Yes, I had arrived and could afford the good stuff. (What the H-E double hockey sticks is their current marketing campaign all about, anyway?). I was a little bit cooler than the poor sap who decided that Budweiser was the evolutionary path down which he should embark. A path not unlike that of the platypus - singular, lonely, one-way ticket - nowhere to branch off.

Back in those days, every good bar had a fraction of the tap handles they have today. I worked at a little place called Squire Morgan's and Moose Alley (it was an upstairs/downstairs thing, you had to be there). The best bar in Portland's Old Port in the late eighties/early nineties - hands down. It was the best combination of atmosphere, good food, live entertainment, regulars, employees, and a place-to-be-seen in the Old Port in it's time. Damn good wings too (Volcano Wings). It's demise was tragic, but in the end, inevitable. The corner of Milk and Market Streets is still an empty, ghostly reminder of all that once was. My earliest, and vague, recollection was of 2 tap handles - Molson Light and Moosehead. Holy variety, Batman, eh? Then one day, a bright red handle appeared - with the word "Geary's" on it. A Pale Ale, brewed right here in Portland, Maine? Hmm, I'll try one. Next thing I knew, I was at the bar with an order of Volcano Wings and a pitcher of Geary's (one glass). It didn't get any better than that. Geary's Pale Ale was my First Love.
Soon that tap box grew to be 8 or 10 handles long. I don't always order Geary's anymore, with so many great craft brews from which to choose. But - in this Valentine's month - I will go back to my roots and enjoy some Geary's Pale Ale. An homage.

Here's to you Geary's - my First Love - thanks for setting me on the path to always seek and appreciate great beer.

Proost,

Scott Dutton

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