Bring on the Bell’s.
I was recently heartened to learn that Illinois once again has access to the malty, hoppy nectar of the gods that is Bell’s beer. No longer must you cross state lines in search of your Oberon or Double Cream Stout, Illinoisians. For that I salute you… and am starting to think moving back to Chicago might not be such a bad idea.
But I love San Francisco. Even with the ridiculously high rents, the permafog and the crazy old ladies carrying live chickens in brown paper bags on the bus, there are very few things that could tear me away.
And Bell’s is that good. Yes, it’s so good that anytime I go back to the midwest, I take an extra suitcase to fill with 6-packs. And I always end up trying to sneak past with a bag that’s over the allowable luggage weight, so I’ve learned to force my mother to park at the airport and accompany me to the check-in counter – in the event that I need to sacrifice a few bottles from the overstuffed, oversized suitcase to make it on the flight, I know that they’ll find a good home.
So now that Bell’s has made it back to Illinois, I’ll no longer need to abscond with my mother’s car to drive in a blizzard over to Indiana and pick up my annual stash replenishment… but I’ll still be forced to hoard my stash, parceling out bottles to those I deem worthy of the rich brown elixr throughout the year.
So, in the spirit vested in me by the news of Bell’s return to Illinois, I entreat you to join me in finding a way to bring the Third Coast to the West Coast – let’s get some Bell’s Beer in our local bars and spirits retailers. And let me walk down the street to pick up a six-pack of Bell’s Amber instead of traveling halfway across the country to replenish my ever-dwindling stash.
Are you in?
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