The Bodies We’ve Hidden

Posted: March 10, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: American Beer, Ethics, Poetry | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

This is the seventh post in a series, the theme of which will not be revealed until the end. If anyone can guess the theme based on this post or the other posts in the series, I will be mighty impressed.

In The Dream of Eugene Aram, by Thomas Hood, the title character describes a dream in which the body of a man he killed won’t stay hidden. He throws the body into a stream; the next morning he finds that the stream has run dry. He carries the body into the forest and buries it under “heaps of leaves;” the wind blows the leaves away.

“Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,
For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep:
Or land, or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms deep.”

Overcome by guilt and haunted–more or less literally–by the victim of his crime, Eugene Aram all but confesses to a young boy. Aram couches his confession as a dream, but the boy either saw the truth in the dream, or at least thought the dream was queer enough to share with another adult, because “that very night” Eugene Aram found himself “with gyves upon his wrist.”

The theme is familiar. Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart comes to mind (as do the Simpson’s episodes “Lisa’s Rival” and “The Telltale Head.”) Although the body be safely hidden away, it is continually present to the guilty mind. The Dream of Eugene Aram ends with Aram being arrested. The Tell-Tale Heart ends with the narrator admitting his crime and pointing out the body.

Neither Hood nor Poe relate, however, is whether confessing does any good. The authors create the distinct impression that the secrets–rather than the murders themselves–drove the main characters to break. So are they actually relieved to be unburdened of their secrets? Their victims are still dead; does confession end the haunting?

Beer of the week: Pretzel Wheat – This peculiar brew comes from Aldus Brewing Company in, to quote the label “the pretzel center of the universe,” Hanover, Pennsylvania. The Aldus brewery building was the original Snyder’s of Hanover factory. Rather than use Snyder’s pretzels, however, this beer’s grain bill is augmented by pretzels made by Wege Pretzel Company, another of Hanover’s pretzel manufacturers. The beer itself is rather perplexing. It is amber-brown and smells pretty much like sweet salted pretzels. I think the salt does a lot of work to keep the beer from being unpalatably sweet, with malty, pretzel flavor being the overwhelming single note. I like it, although it is probably more novel than genuinely good. I would drink it again, but I generally prefer to have my pretzels and beer served separately.

Reading of the week: The Dream of Eugene Aram – Although the poem is a work of fiction, Aram was a historical figure, and he did murder a man and hide the body in a cave.

Question for the week: Can the guilt of getting away with a crime really be worse than the guilt of the crime itself? Isn’t that obscenely selfish?

Like the Stag at Eve

Posted: February 3, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: French Beer, Poetry, Political Philosophy, Sociology | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

This is the sixth post in a series, the theme of which will not be revealed until the end. If anyone can guess the theme based on this post or the other posts in the series, I will be mighty impressed.

In game theory—whatever that is—there is a problem known as the stag hunt. Suppose that there are two hunters. They each independently elect either to hunt deer or hare. A successful deer hunt requires cooperation, but a single hunter can catch a hare. Because a deer is a much bigger prize than a hare, rational players should choose to cooperate in a stag hunt rather than go after hares alone.

The stag hunt problem is derived from Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Second Discourse, in which he describes hypothetical creation of civil society among men in a state of nature. As individuals begin to understand the concept of self interest, they begin to see that self interest can be advanced by mutual cooperation. Consequently, two hunters may forego opportunities to catch a hare if it means gaining a chance to have half a deer. However, at this very early stage of social interaction, Rousseau had no doubt that the more immediate and certain satisfaction of catching the hare would win out over the delayed and uncertain satisfaction of splitting a deer.

“If a deer was to be taken, every one saw that, in order to succeed, he must abide faithfully by his post: but if a hare happened to come within the reach of any one of them, it is not to be doubted that he pursued it without scruple, and, having seized his prey, cared very little, if by so doing he caused his companions to miss theirs.”

On the one hand, I have never been convinced by Rousseau’s account of natural man. On the other hand, I have seen enough of modern man to know that a great many people would seek their own small gains at the expense of a common project.

Of course, a hare in the hand is worth a stag in the bush.

Beer of the week: Kronenbourg 1664 – This pale lager comes from the Alsace region, and is the first French beer to be featured on this blog. It pours clear gold with a fluffy white head. The aroma is faint, with notes of floral hops and sweet malt. The beer is crisp, pleasant, and refreshing—if a little ordinary. Not bad for a European macro lager.

Reading of the week: The Stag Hunt by Sir Walter Scott – The stag hunt problem and Rousseau’s natural man are only interested in the stag hunt from a purely utilitarian standpoint: what is the relative nutritional value of a hare versus a portion of a deer? In this poem—part of Scott’s The Lady of the Lake—Scott presents the stag as a noble creature and the hunt itself as a noble and exhilarating pursuit.

Question of the week: Would you hunt the stag or the hare?

Sweet Escape

Posted: January 27, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: Indian Beer, Political Philosophy, Religion, Sociology | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This is the fifth post in a series, the theme of which will not be revealed until the end. If anyone can guess the theme based on this post or the other posts in the series, I will be mighty impressed.

In Psalm 55, David–or whoever–says, “Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness.” This desire, although understandable, is flawed. (And not simply because dove wings would be wholly insufficient to carry a grown man.)

Being alone in the wilderness can, in a certain frame of mind, be very restful and calming. But remaining alone in the wilderness could never be restful. As Aristotle put it in his Politics, and Francis Bacon expanded upon in his essay Of Friendship, the man who can live outside of human society must either be a god or a beast.

If godliness is possible in the wilderness, the approach must be something like asceticism. Bacon identified “diverse of the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the church” among those who have lived apart from their fellow men in an effort to “sequester [themselves] for a higher conversation.” But asceticism is not restful. The word is derived from the Greek word ἄσκησις which means “training”. It is exceedingly difficult to be an ascetic. To be sure, they do not have the same daily concerns as the rest of us, but that does little to guarantee their peace of mind.

That leaves the life of a beast. To outside appearances, animals’ lives are restful. They’ve no jobs, no bills, no pants, and, as Robert Burns observed in his poem To A Mouse, they have no worries for the future nor regrets for the past. Humans, on the other hand, cannot help but “backward cast [their] e’e, / On prospects dear” and “guess an’ fear” at what the future holds. And, not to put to fine a point on it, complete and utter self-sufficiency in the wilderness isn’t easy. There must be some inverse corollary to “many hands make light work.”

So fly to the wilderness when you need some rest, but then come back to society refreshed and ready to participate in community with your fellow man.

Beer of the week: Old Monk 10000 Super Beer – The titular Old Monk on the label of this beer is clearly no ascetic, although the beer comes from a country with a long history of ascetic holy men. India’s Mohan Meakin, Ltd. brews this clear, pale gold lager with a decent white head. The aroma has some surprising yeast esters and apple notes. The beer is sweet and fizzy, with cider and white wine flavors. There’s no hops flavor to speak of. It is too sweet by half, but I kind of like how funky it is. By the way, the name and packaging do not exactly scream “India”. That is, however, unless you happen to know that Old Monk Rum is basically the national liquor. This high-alcohol lager (malt liquor, if you will) is a natural spin-off product.

Reading of the week: Hear My Prayer – This version of Psalm 55, set to music by Felix Mendelssohn, with lyrics by William Bartholomew, became a gold record for child soprano Ernest Lough. If one cannot sprout wings and fly to the wilderness, at least one may be transported by Mendelssohn’s music and Lough’s voice.

Question of the week: How long is the longest you could stand to be alone?

The Fist of the Law

Posted: January 20, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: American Beer, History, Honey Beer, Law, Political Philosophy, Wheat Beer | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

This is the fourth post in a series, the theme of which will not be revealed until the end. If anyone can guess the theme based on this post or the other posts in the series, I will be mighty impressed.

It has been quite a while since I railed against the Reinheitsgebot or German Purity Law. As I have noted before, the law was and is ostensibly a consumer protection measure, but was actually enacted with protectionist aims. By forbidding the use of wheat or rye in brewing, the government artificially manipulated the demand for (and, consequently the price of) those grains. I have also pointed out that the Reinheitsgebot was originally a Bavarian law, but was adopted nationwide with the unification of Germany. As a result, many traditional beer styles from regions outside of Bavaria were suddenly criminalized–much to the benefit of the Bavarian brewers whose recipes were already Reinheitsgebot compliant.

The beer of the week is modeled after one such beer. According to the Off Color Brewing website, “Scurry is inspired from the historical German beer style called Kottbusser. This style originated in the town of Cottbus, which was founded along two important trading routes. Located between Germany and Poland, the town was a hub for goods many other rural towns didn’t have access to. Thus they started brewing a beer with honey and molasses.” Wheat, if I am not mistaken, was also a common ingredient.

When the Reinheitsgebot was adopted nation-wide after unification, Kottbusser beers went kaput because of the non-conforming ingredients. “But screw that,” continues the Off Color website, “we’re in ‘merica and we can brew with most anything we want.” Damn straight!

Beer of the week: Scurry – Off Color’s Kottbusser-style ale is brewed with honey, molasses, wheat, and oats. It is a slightly hazy dark amber ale, with a big fluffy head. The dark roasted malts dominate the aroma, although the aroma is fairly faint. The initial flavor was just dark malt: bitter-sweet chocolate and a bit of smoke. That gives way to a mineral aftertaste, I think from the molasses. The beer is smooth, crisp, and dry. The honey is faint enough that I’m not sure it isn’t the power of suggestion. But at least it’s not overly sweet. Really enjoyable.

Reading of the week: Note on Modern Prize Fighting by George Bernard Shaw – In this sort of postscript to The Admirable Bashville, Shaw gives a brief history of the shift from bareknuckle to Queensbury rules boxing and argues that the legal status of prizefighting is problematic. “We do not like fighting; but we like looking on at fights: therefore we require a law which will punish the prizefighter if he hits us, and secure us the protection of the police whilst we sit in a comfortable hall and watch him hitting another prizefighter.”

Question for the week: Violations of the Reinheitsgebot are essentially victimless crimes. (Assuming, of course, that the verboten ingredients used are honey or wheat rather than arsenic or cyanide.) Underground combat sports are not so obviously victimless—the combatants often come out looking fairly victimized. But why should the law should stand between voluntary and mutual combatants any more than it should stand between a brewer and honey?

Goliath the Greek

Posted: January 13, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: American Beer, Diet Beer, Fruit Beer, History, Light Beer, Poetry, Religion, Theology | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

This is the third post in a series, the theme of which will not be revealed until the end. If anyone can guess the theme based on this post or the other posts in the series, I will be mighty impressed.

As someone reasonably well acquainted with both the Bible and Homer, I am a bit surprised to have only recently come across the following claim (the origin of which I do not know): the story of David and Goliath is a response to and repudiation of Homeric Greek culture.

Goliath, of course, is a Philistine. But who were the Philistines? There are a number of theories about who these people were and where they came from, but several scholars have argued that they are of Aegean or Greek extraction. So there is the first plausible connection between First Samuel and Homer.

Then there is the timeline. Herodotus places the Trojan War around 1250 BC and Homer’s composition of The Iliad around 750 BC. Meanwhile, the reign of King David is thought to have started around 1000 BC and First Samuel may well have been composed around 600 BC. So two possible connections exist: 1) both Homer and the author of Samuel could be describing similar, indeed related, Greek military culture as it existed at their respective dramatic dates (which allows a couple centuries for the Greek culture to have spread beyond Troy in Asia Minor and into the Levant), or 2) the author of Samuel was familiar with Homer and was responding to him (although a century may not have been sufficient time for Homeric oral tradition to have become accessible to the Hebrews. Morover, Hellenic Jews were clearly familiar with Homer, but I am not aware of any indication of earlier influence of Homer on earlier Hebrew culture).

The description of Goliath is also consistent with Homer’s description of the Greek heroes. Homer refers to the Greeks as “the bronze-clad Achaeans” who, in their “innumerable bronze,” sent a “dazzling gleam up through the sky unto the heavens.” Goliath, for his part, is described as wearing a bronze helmet and “a coat of scale armor of bronze weighing five thousand shekels; on his legs he wore bronze greaves, and a bronze javelin was slung on his back.” Goliath’s bronze is not “innumerable”–indeed, it is given very specific enumeration–but the look is the same.

Goliath, like his armor, is given specific measurements. He is listed as standing six cubits and a span (~9.5 feet). “And the staff of his spear was like a weaver’s beam; and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels (15 pounds) of iron. The heroes of the Iliad are not given such precise dimensions, but Ajax the Greater is described as standing “towering above the Argives with his head and broad shoulders” and lightly hefted a huge stone which, “[a] man could not easily lift … with both hands, such as men are today, were he ever so strong.”

Goliath not only looks like an Iliad character, he talks like one. He challenges the Hebrews to name their own champion to face him in single combat. “If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be your servants: but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and serve us.” When David accepts the challenge, Goliath boasts, “I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.”

The Iliad has a few prominent examples of one-on-one challenges, including Paris’s challenge to Menelaus, in which their single combat would decide the entire war. (Unfortunately, divine intervention prevents their challenge from decisively ending the war.) Likewise, throughout the Iliad, various warriors boast that their enemies’ corpses will “glut the dogs and birds.”

Goliath’s defeat even has shades of the divine intervention that is so prominent in The Iliad. David “gives [Goliath’s] flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.” He also takes Goliath’s armor into his tent as a trophy–much as the Greeks took the armor of Sarpedon or the Trojans took the armor of Patroclus. Also, throughout The Iliad, gods intervene on both sides, particularly by aiding (or hindering) specific individuals. The Hebrew God does not explicitly guide David’s stone or otherwise directly intervene, but David clearly states that the ultimate result of their combat is God’s will: “this day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite thee.”

But this is where the story of Goliath appears as a repudiation of the Homeric ideal. David accepts Goliath’s challenge, but does not meet him on his own terms. David refuses the bronze armor and sword of Saul, and takes the field armed only with a sling (and a knife?). David is also quite explicit that what is at stake is not personal glory, but the authority and might of the God of Israel. While the Trojans and Greeks were aided by the gods of a single pantheon, Goliath and David represent entirely different theologies. David’s defeat of Goliath is the Hebrews’ defeat of Greek religion and culture.

Beer of the week: Bud Light Lime – The inherent problem with rating a beer (or anything else with a subjective component) is figuring out the appropriate standard. For example, BLL would rank as an awful IPA. On the other hand, it might be considered a reasonably good lime-flavored soda pop. It is refreshing, sweet, (but rather subdued by soda standards,) citrusy, and fizzy. I’d take BLL over a Sprite any day. I’d take it over a beer-flavored beer… on just the right day. For me, it even has a nostalgia component; BLL takes me back to a distant summer, when I drank shandies of National Bohemian and Turkey Hill lemonade. Not an awful drink, at all.

Reading of the week: The Destruction of Sennacherib by Lord Byron – (You were not expecting that, were you?) Like Goliath, the Assyrian King Sennacherib is a biblical character. (Unlike Goliath, his historical existence is well attested in other sources as well.) Sennacherib’s portrayal in the Bible and his failed siege of Jerusalem presents another example of combat between the Hebrews and a Gentile culture. As with the defeat of Goliath, the destruction of Sennacherib reaffirms the superiority of the Hebrew religion over that of the pagans.

Question for the week: Do you picture Goliath the same way you picture Homeric heroes?

Lawless Love

Posted: January 6, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: American Beer, Ethics, History, Poetry, Stout | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

This is the second post in a series, the theme of which will not be revealed until the end. If anyone can guess the theme based on this post or the other posts in the series, I will be mighty impressed.

“I am of this mind,” writes John Lyly in Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit, “that both might and malice, deceit and treachery, all perjury, any impiety may lawfully be committed in love, which is lawless.” All, as they say, is fair in love and war.

As we have learned, however, all is fair in war only if you win. Germans were hanged for the treacherous invasion of Poland, yet no Soviets were tried for their own part in that same treachery. The Greeks, after deceiving the Trojans with the old hollow horse trick, burned the city to the ground, killed or enslaved all they could, and drove the rest into exile. Once the war was won, there was nobody left to judge their methods. (Although The Odyssey tells us that things did not go smoothly for the conquering heroes on their return trip.)

Winning in love, on the other hand, means something quite different. How can a relationship long endure that is the product of malice, deceit, treachery, perjury, or impiety? Success in love does not mean totally vanquishing those who may otherwise object to your behavior. Success in love means living with such a person.

Don Quixote offers a caveat that may help: “remember love and war are the same thing, and as in war it is allowable and common to make use of wiles and stratagems to overcome the enemy, so in the contests and rivalries of love the tricks and devices employed to attain the desired end are justifiable, provided they be not to the discredit or dishonor of the loved object.” The beloved’s reputation and honor are paramount even to success. Better to lose the beloved than to make her suffer dishonor.

Perhaps, but Don Quixote is a madman who does all of his loving from afar. Things are quite different in the trenches.

Beer of the week: Peanut Butter Porter – Normal, Illinois’s Destihl Brewery produces this “American Porter with Peanut Butter Flavor”. The aroma is of peanut butter and mocha. Chocolate, peanut, and coffee are the prominent flavors, with a thinner than expected mouthfeel and a slight tingle from carbonation. I quite enjoy this beer, but think the big rich flavor would be better complemented by a thicker body.

Reading of the week: Lochinvar by Sir Walter Scott – “So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, / There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.” The hero of this poem shows up at a wedding and demands a drink and a dance with the bride. He dances her right out the front door, lifts her onto his horse, and rides off with her into the sunset. Big moves.

Question for the week: Is all truly fair in love and war?

50% Chance of Sunshine

Posted: August 26, 2022 | Author: | Filed under: American Beer, Ethics, Fruit Beer, Religion, Rye Beer, Wheat Beer | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

This is the first post in a series, the theme of which will not be revealed until the end. If anyone can guess the theme based on this post or the other posts in the series, I will be mighty impressed.

In my childhood home, there was a well-worn VHS tape of the 1982 film version of the musical Annie. In all likelihood, the film was my first exposure to Carol Burnett, Tim Curry, and Bernadette Peters, so that is enough reason to be grateful the tape was kicking around. Although they played the “bad guys”, I found those three greatly entertaining. Looking back, that is no surprise.

Aside from my appreciation for the casting, I recall one other early critical opinion about the film: I thought the song Tomorrow was simply wrong. The lyrics, for those who have forgotten or somehow never heard them, go:

When I’m stuck in a day
That’s gray,
And lonely,
I just stick out my chin
And Grin,
And Say,
The sun will come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
‘Til tomorrow
Come what may

“Doesn’t she realize there can be two cloudy days in a row?” I thought. “She acknowledges that there are gray days; what’s stopping one from following another?” I am not really sure if I even understood that the sun coming out was a metaphor; I was just so hung up on the fact that she is willing to bet her bottom dollar on weather that she cannot predict with that level of certainty.

I think more than anything, I was too young and my life was too charmed for me to understand the darkness that Annie is willing herself to overcome in that song. I had never seen a really gray and lonely day–let alone been abused by the drunken headmistress of an orphanage–so I couldn’t appreciate what it would mean for the sun to come back out. I still I haven’t seen any very dark days. But I think I now understand that, as Annie might just as well have said, “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”

Beer of the week: Hardywood Virginia Blackberry – This Belgian-style white ale comes from Hardywood Park Craft Brewery in Richmond, Virginia. It pours a pale and hazy yellow, with a pinkish hue. The head is formed of very small bubbles and fades quickly. Classic Belgian yeast aroma combines nicely with tart berry and a bit of spicy rye. The flavor is a bit more subdued than I expected, and follows the smell: yeasty, tart, with just a hint of spice. Overall, a very pleasant, refreshing beer.

Reading of the week: Psalm 30 – Martin Charnin probably did not have this Psalm in mind when he wrote Tomorrow, but Psalmist’s claim that “joy cometh in the morning” is perfectly in line with Annie’s “the sun will come out tomorrow.” And, with enough imagination, “thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness” is plausible antecedent of “you’re never fully dressed without a smile.”

Question for the week: Annie’s optimism is completely justified in the musical: although the show starts with Annie living in an orphanage run by a misanthropic alcoholic, the show ends with her getting adopted by a billionaire, all of her fellow orphans also being adopted into wealthy families, and the whole country being saved by FDR’s New Deal. Of course, this is all extreme fantasy; is Annie’s level of optimism appropriate in the real world?

Chesterton’s Fence

Posted: July 15, 2022 | Author: | Filed under: Ethics, History, Law, Nicaraguan Beer, Pale Lager, Sociology | Tags: , | Leave a comment

Last week (what’s a few days more or less?), I used the expression “Chesterton’s fence” to refer to abandoning traditional practices without first understanding why the practices became established in the first place. It occurs to me that the expression may not be familiar to all of my readers. (I only learned it a year or so ago myself.) Here is the origin of the expression, from G.K. Chesterton’s The Thing:

IN the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, “I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.” To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: “If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.” This paradox rests on the most elementary common sense. The gate or fence did not grow there. It was not set up by somnambulists who built it in their sleep. It is highly improbable that it was put there by escaped lunatics who were for some reason loose in the street. Some person had some reason for thinking it would be a good thing for somebody. And until we know what the reason was, we really cannot judge whether the reason was reasonable. It is extremely probable that we have overlooked some whole aspect of the question, if something set up by human beings like ourselves seems to be entirely meaningless and mysterious. There are reformers who get over this difficulty by assuming that all their fathers were fools; but if that be so, we can only say that folly appears to be a hereditary disease.

The concept of Chesterton’s fence remains applicable to all sorts of social reforms. In the single human lifespan since G.K. passed away, several actions went from being both taboo and illegal to being enshrined in the United Sates Constitutional law. Consider, for example, Loving v. Virginia, in which the United States Supreme Court struck down a law criminalizing interracial marriage. I do not suggest that the case was wrongly decided or that the reform was a bad one. I just note that the shift from taboo and criminal to constitutionally protected is so great, that Chesterton’s advice seems especially poignant. It is essential to understand why the original taboos and laws existed if the reform is to be truly successful. Once the flaws of the original causes are laid bare, the fence can come down.

A somewhat more rapid, if less sensational, example resulted from the confluence of cannabis legalization and COVID. At the end of 2019, cannabis was illegal in the state of Illinois and selling it was a felony. Less than four months later, cannabis was not only legal in Illinois, but selling it was deemed an “essential business” that was exempt from certain COVID lockdown rules. The fence (cannabis prohibition) has been torn down. But did the Illinois General Assembly first ask why cannabis was criminalized in the first place? Did they consider the motivations of the previous legislators in erecting the fence? Or did they simply tear it down because they did not see the use of it?

I pause to note that sale and possession of cannabis remain federal felonies. There is no such thing as “legal” cannabis anywhere in the United States. Not in Illinois, not with a prescription, not from a dispensary. The fence, at least at the federal level, remains standing–even as gaping holes in the fence appear.

Beer of the week: Toña Lager Especial – To the best of my recollection, this is the first Nicaraguan beer I have ever had. Toña is a pale-gold lager with a quirky disappearing head. The aroma is typical of cheap adjunct lagers. The flavor is along the same lines, a bit of grainy sweetness, a bit of hops, not much of note. There is, however, a slightly burnt aftertaste that seems out of place. I am not sure whether it is an off flavor or the brewers somehow got some smokiness out of the evidently very pale grain bill. Adding a bit of lime and salt covered the burnt taste, but also just made the whole thing taste like lime. Ultimately I’m not sure I could tell Toña from Corona Extra, but that praise is faint. Also, the cap says “Abre Fácil”, but I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a twist-off that was so defácil to open.

Reading of the week: What’s Wrong With The World by G.K. Chesterton – Rather than take this weeks reading from the work quoted above (primarily because it is not yet in the public domain in the United States,) I have selected the first chapter of What’s Wrong With The World. This reading addresses an important reason why political reforms are so rarely successful: everyone can agree that the nation is not well-run; few can agree on what a well-run nation would look like.

Question for the week: What were the objectives of cannabis prohibition? Did prohibition achieve (or advance) those objectives?

Scurvy

Posted: November 12, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: American Beer, History, IPA, Natural Philosophy, Spruce Beer | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

In Two Years Before the Mast, Richard Henry Dana describes a case of scurvy on his trip from the California coast to Boston:

His legs swelled and pained him so that he could not walk; his flesh lost its elasticity, so that if it was pressed in, it would not return to its shape; and his gums swelled until he could not open his mouth. His breath, too, became very offensive; he lost all strength and spirit; could eat nothing; grew worse every day; and, in fact, unless something was done for him, would be a dead man in a week, at the rate at which he was sinking.

Shortly thereafter, Dana’s ship encountered a ship that had lately departed from New York and had plenty of fresh vegetables to spare. The ill man, first by taking spoonsful of raw potato juice and later by eating raw potatoes and onions, was just about completely revived in just ten days.

We now know that scurvy is caused by a deficiency of vitamin C and that potatoes are an excellent source of said vitamin. Yet Dana, having seen this miraculous recovery, still gave some credence to old misconceptions about the disease. He wrote that “is attributed generally to salt provisions, want of cleanliness, the free use of grease and fat (which is the reason of its prevalence among whalemen,) and, last of all, to laziness.” Dana correctly associated scurvy with diet and a lack of fresh provisions, but he was still behind the times on the science of the thing.

Dr. James Lind had, a generation or so before Dana sailed around the Horn, experimented with citrus fruits as both prophylactic and curative treatments for scurvy. His discoveries eventually led to the adoption of lemon juice rations in the Royal Navy. Still, even Lind did not quite reach our current level of understanding; he thought that the disease was essentially a digestive disorder.

Meanwhile, Native Americans had long consumed beverages made with spruce tips. We know now that spruce, like most citrus fruit, is an excellent source of vitamin C. Many European explorers–including the famous Captain Cook–adopted the practice of making spruce drinks. Captain Cook had his crew brew and drink spruce beer, and Lind reported “that genuine spruce beer is, above all others, not only an effectual preservative against [scurvy], but an excellent remedy.”

There are, I think, two important (if somewhat contradictory) lessons here. The first is that science is never “settled.” Lind’s Treatise on the Scurvy starts a discussion of Pliny the Elder and proceeds to show how each successive natural philosopher erred in his analysis of the disease. As Lind put it in the preface: “It was necessary *** to endeavour first to remove such objections as might arise from doctrines imbibed in younger years, in schools and universities.” Even so, the discovery of vitamin C was still well over a hundred years away. We think that we know better now, but what “settled” doctrines will yield to new discoveries in the future?

The second lesson is that there is real truth in folk knowledge. The Native Americans made spruce drinks; Europeans copied them; the Royal Navy adopted citrus rations long before the medical community came around to the idea of citrus as a treatment for scurvy. Why did they do these things? Because it worked. It worked even without “scientific” knowledge of vitamins. As science and technology advance, it becomes ever more tempting to dismiss folk remedies and other traditional practices as unscientific and therefore unsound. But the truth is that discarding traditional practices without trying to understand why the practices became established in the first place is a serious Chesterton’s fence.

So take this post as a your prescription for a pint of shandy, grapefruit IPA, or spruce beer. It’ll do you good.

Beer of the week: Tree Wrestler – There is some reason to think that vitamin C does not survive the brewing process, so modern spruce beer is of no especial value in that respect. I choose to ignore that entire line of thinking. Burning Bush Brewery produces this spruce tip IPA. Tree Wrestler is a clear gold beer with just a bit of sediment. The beer has a rocky head and an aroma of spruce and malt. The flavor has lots of pine up front, with complementary hops bitterness. There is, however, plenty of malt sweetness to balance the bitterness out. Somewhere in the combination of the spruce and the malt, I even got a hint of sweet mint. Very different. Very good.

Reading of the week: Historia Naturalis by Pliny the Elder – Pliny does not identify scurvy by name, but the description that he gives in this excerpt sure matches the symptoms. Pliny also writes that a certain herb would cure the disease, so natural philosophers have long speculated that the herb described was a plant known in England as “scurvy-grass”, which we now know to be very high in vitamin C. In this reading, Pliny also discusses the fact that even “illiterate country-folk” knew very well the medicinal value of their local flora.

Question for the week: Do you employ any folk remedies? I, for one, still favor chicken soup for minor illness.

Education of Kings, Education of Citizens

Posted: November 5, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: American Beer, Blonde Ale, Education, History, Political Philosophy | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

A bit over half a millennium ago, Aldus Manutius argued that classical liberal education–especially the study of Greek and Latin–was the best training for the ruling class. Among the ancient Greeks, he pointed to Alexander the Great and his teacher Aristotle. (According to Plutarch, Alexander’s studies included not only Aristotle’s own teachings, but also the works Homer, Philistus, Euripides, Sophocles, and Aeschylus.) Aldus called Alexander “an unconquered and knowledgeable king, who thought riches much worse than virtue.”

Among for the Romans, Aldus pointed to Julius Caesar, “who had distinguished himself equally in literature and in warfare.” Caesar was as eloquent on paper as he was all-conquering in the battlefield.

Of his contemporaries, Aldus singled out Federico da Montefeltro, one of the most important patrons of the Italian Renaissance. According to Aldus, Frederico’s “fame was equally prominent both in arms and liberal arts.” Frederico, known as “the Light of Italy”, was a member of the Order of the Garter and amassed the greatest library in Italy, excepting only the Vatican.

If classical education is appropriate for men such as Alexander, Caesar, and Frederico, does it really have a place in modern liberal democracy? After all, those men were all warrior-kings, not equal citizens of a democratic polity. (To say nothing of the fact that Alexander subjugated the nominally democratic Athens and Caesar effectively ended the Roman Republic.)

Arguably, classical education is more important in a liberal democracy than in any other society. In a democracy, every citizen is also a sovereign. (And there is no need to get caught up in the question of whether America or any European state is really a democracy. As “Great Books” pioneer Mortimer Adler put it, “the citizens of a constitutional government, whether it be a democracy or not, whoever the citizens, are the ruling class.”) So ordinary citizens, as members of the ruling class, ought to be educated as rulers.

So study your Aristotle and distinguish yourself–if not as a warrior-king–as a competent citizen!

Beer of the week: Aldus American Blonde Ale – Aldus Manutius was a publisher, educator, translator, etc. during the Italian Renaissance. He invented italic font and the precursor to the modern paperback. Why a small-town Pennsylvania brewery is named after him, I have no clue. Anyway, Aldus Brewing Company’s flagship beer is this hazy blonde ale. It is a bit light on carbonation, resulting in a thin, quick-fading head. The aroma is of sweet malt and yeast esters. The flavor is nicely balanced, layering a solid malt body, very light hops bitterness, sweet fruit yeast notes, and a lingering alcohol finish from the 6% abv. It is, perhaps, a little too sweet, but I quite like it.

Reading of the week: Aldus Manutius to Catarina Pia – Aldus had been hired by Princess Catarina Pia to educate her sons. (Her sons, incidentally, were also the nephews of Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, one of the Renaissance’s most colorful philosophers/madmen.) It might be fair, therefore, to conclude that this letter is more advertising than philosophizing.

Question of the week: Is the citizen-as-member-of-the-ruling-class argument compelling? Are citizens of a democracy really like Alexander or Caesar in any way?

← Older Entries