What the heck was I drinking?
I recently enjoyed drinking a bottle of Ginger Beer. It tasted like home-brew ginger ale. It was delicious. I really like it, and well why not? I enjoy ginger ale. But what the heck was I drinking, ginger ale or beer?
I did not feel like I was drinking beer at all and that I could have probably drank 30 or so bottles. That little realization caused a small moment of anxiety in me. Was I drinking beer or the wine-cooler version of beer? If Bartles & Jaymes were on the front, I probably would have approached the drink differently.
Now bare with me, I haven’t posted in a while as I’ve been insanely busy, so I’m just going to contribute these thoughts while I have a spare moment and the energy.
The whole experience gives rise to a bit of philosophical reflection. What are the defining properties of a thing? It should be brewed and use some type of yeast to make alcohol (home-brewers, correct me if I’m wrong). Can we call something X if it does not bear the properties of X? Frege and Russel probably have something to say about this dilemma.
I’d rather not call it beer.
Come to find out that the beer was not alcoholic (though it was pitched to me as it were), which is why I could pound 30 of these things without any impairment (beyond bladder impairment). I’m not a lush. I barely drink alcohol. Trust me on that. And with that, I’d rather not call it beer.
Crap. Now do I need to hold root beer to the same standards? Maybe I’ll just start using “sarsaparilla” more often.