While rummaging through our pantry a few weeks ago, I came
across a small white canvas bag labeled Fartless Beer Bread. We think we may have acquired the bag several
Christmases ago as a white elephant gift.
Inside the bag was a foil pouch containing, according to the printed
instructions, all the dry ingredients needed to produce a tasty loaf of
bread. The only thing we needed to add
was a 12 ounce can of our favorite beer.
Maybe that’s why the bag was still in the pantry. We don’t have a favorite beer. In fact, we don’t even drink beer.
I’ve never tasted beer, but I have bought one once. Brian, a co-worker had been a season ticket
holder with the Colorado Rockies for many years. Toward the end of the 2013 season, Brian was
able to exchange many of his unused tickets from earlier games for a block of tickets for a single game which he
made available to other co-workers. When
I offered to pay for my ticket, Brian declined and said I could buy him a beer.
After enjoying the game for a few innings, but feeling the
need to settle my debt, I decided to
make my move. I asked Brian for a couple
of choices and made my way to the brew vendor.
It was a cool evening in September and I remembered that I was
wearing my navy blue BYU windbreaker.
And I am fully aware that beer consumption and my alma mater and its
sponsoring institution are not usually harmoniously connected. Not wanting to display my BYU affiliation
while purchasing a beer, I removed my windbreaker and tied it around my waist before
approaching the vendor. I looked around
to make sure I didn’t recognize anyone on the concourse before making my
selection and payment. It was a relief
to hand it over to Brian and enjoy the rest of the game. That was my first beer purchase experience. That was then.
Back to the present, rather than place the Fartless Beer
Bread bag back in the pantry, I decided I could man up and go buy another
beer. Deanna needed to make a run to the
post office and fill the gas tank in the car.
I decided to go along. While she
posted her mail, I would buy the gas and 12 ounce beer can at the adjacent
station. Not having purchased beer
outside of a baseball stadium before, I was dismayed to find the only way to
buy a 12 ounce can would be as part of a 6 or 12 pack. The only single option at the gas station was
a huge 25 ounce can. I didn’t make the
purchase.
We made a second stop at a supermarket and found the same
situation. I wasn’t about to buy a 6
pack in order to make a single loaf of bread.
The following morning, while Deanna was at work, I decided
to quit being a wimp and just go buy the
dang beer. I drove to the 7-11 near
Deanna’s office. It was raining. I looked down and noticed I was wearing the
same BYU windbreaker. I removed the
windbreaker, found the beer section in the beverage cooler and selected a
single 25 ounce Budweiser can. Not
wanting to look like that was the sole reason for my visit, I filled a 32 ounce
cup with ice and a mix of Diet and Regular Dr. Pepper before proceeding
nonchalantly to the cash register to complete the purchase..
After returning home, pouring the beer into a different
container to allow it to reach room temperature, I proceeded to mix the ingredients
and place the dough in a bread pan. With
the extra 13 ounces, 9 went into a recipe for beer bread I found in the
internet. The remaining 4 ounces went
down the drain. Mission accomplished.
