It's Easter 2004. I'm sat in a hotel bar in Brugge, mispronouncing Duvel and about to have my beer epiphany.

In the grounds of Thornbridge Hall, Derbyshire, a stonemason's workshop is empty. The building that will witness the birth of Jaipur is still semi-derelict.

Over five hundred other UK breweries are still stainless-steel dreams. Five hundred.

Pete Brown has yet to begin blogging about beer. Facebook is only for Ivy League students. Twitter is just what birds do.

Many of the pubs that I drink in now have yet to have their renaissance. Many of the bars that I now visit in London (and a fair few of the beers I drink in them) don't yet even exist.

Seven years. Thousands of beers. A wholly different outlook.

In seven years. If I'm excited about beer now, how am I going to feel in 2018? >

Ahh! Budweiser, Coors and Miller
You may use adjuncts as a filler
But with delicate flavour straight from the chiller
Could you be the perfect swiller?

The Bud 'King Of Beers' tag may sound rather fake
But to be honest - it works well as a slake
My flavour buds aren't starting to shake
But at least its fresh, straight outta Mortlake

Miller may have made it from Milwaukee to Woking
But there's something in the soapy suds that's lacking
The gassy sweet cereal just gets me burping
For a sense of satisfaction, I'm still searching

When the mountain turns blue, the Coors is ready
To be honest, it's the bottle I drank quick and steady
Not hoppy, not malty, not yeasty, not crafty
Just satiating beer, clean not clutzy

So, Budweiser, Coors and Miller
You get dissed for being thinner
But perhaps beer drinking isn't just about flavour
Just a cold one to consume...
... not something to savour?

Here's the thing. I've spent the last six years thinking about beer on these terms: aroma, appearance, flavour, palate. I used to think about beer on these terms: social lubricant, hot-throat-quencher, cold-soul-pacifier. In the last year or so I've thought about beer on these terms: place, time, company.

At each of those stages, I know that I've been prejudicial. Towards obvious aromas and flavours. To their absence. To the fact that the impact of any beer is more than the sum of its physical ingredients.

Tonight, I sat down and drank macro lager. America's Big Three, the BMC. I was thirsty. I wanted to remember that, sometimes, you drink beer because you have an itch in your throat. And the Coors - and to a lesser extent, the Bud - scratched it. I am not afraid to say that.

Tonight, with a gargantuan plate of steak and eggs, I drank Dogfish Head Palo Santo Marron. I wanted a beer that was like drinking a great glass of wine with a meal but was better than any 12oz bottle of wine could dream to be. I enjoyed it.

Apart from the Miller, I enjoyed them all. For what they were, for what they offered, at the time. I am not afraid to say that.

This started out as an off-the-cuff play on words; I love the Beastie Boys and I couldn't resist riffing off 'An Open Letter To NYC'. That led me to drinking BMC. And, having actually drank the stuff, I can understand again why so many drinkers do.

It's just beer.

And, sometimes, just beer will do. >