Ah, the three rings: Purity, Body and Flavor.Leave it to Peter to want to celebrate his birthday with a Ballantine Ale. While everyone else is sampling the latest trendy micro-beers, Peter wanted to venture back to the ale of our fathers. For me at the age of six or so, Dad brought out the green bottles late Sunday mornings after Mass. Often he'd invite two best friends, Sonny and Jim, from the Post Office over for a couple, amid ribald jokes and hardy laughter. At other times, Grampa Mike, in his black dress suit, would be our guest for Sunday dinner, and they'd share a few. On those mornings, I'd crawl up into Dad's lap on the livingroom couch and listen to their stories. On occasion, he'd let me put the cold, green bottle to my lips and sip. Back then it was a bitter sin, that I never confessed to Mom nor priest. And to this day I wonder, if when I'm at a pub ordering a beer of choice, and an auburn-tinted ale is placed in front of me, might it have any roots to those Sunday mornings nestled in Dad's lap with ale on his breath and aqua velva in the air?
I'm going to say, Yes.
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