I’m Your Pusha Man

Despite a concerted effort from the The Beer Wench, today is (still un)officially IPA Day. The “holiday” started in 2011 to celebrate a beer style that in the past half-decade has exploded like a swollen piñata, its popularity spewing over the collective consciousness of craft beer drinkers everywhere like so many flavored Tootsie Rolls. In fact, consumption of the historic style (complete with a hokey and apocryphal origin story) has increased so much that doctors are concerned the bitter flower has an addictive substance similar to nicotine. Or crack. It’s probably crack.

As stated previously, I’m so over IPAs. I’ve had so many that I’ve maxed out my I Believe in IPA badge to level 10. To give you an appropriate sense of scale for the difficulty of such an achievement, that’s like winning an Ironman Triathlon after beating Kobayashi in a hot-dog eating competition. At least that’s what I imagine.

So what will I be doing on IPA Day? Interesting you should ask. I plan on taking the celebration to its logical conclusion. Rather than drinking yet another IPA, I will instead be going directly to the source and eating whole leaf hops. If they’re bitter after soaking in wort for an hour, just imagine how bitter they will be straight off the plant! If I’m parched, maybe I’ll wash it down with a British IPA. Just in keeping with the spirit of the thing.

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