Beer, How I Love Thee. Let Me Count the Ways.
As if the Skinny Bob's Meat Melt at Shenanigan's in Sewanee, Tenn., wasn't already exquisite this weekend, it was made perfect by the Mason jar of Sam Adams that accompanied it.
Beer in a Mason jar. Bliss.
I can't think of anything I like more than beer in a jar than maybe, well, beer in a bottle.
From the wide mouth of a jar, the cold amber wave sloshes onto your upper lip with the welcome reassurance that there is just so much more beer left to drink.
On the other hand, from the narrow neck of a bottle, that first frosty swig jets onto your tongue with a whoosh of tight bubbles, like a grateful genie who has been waiting to be set free.
As for which is better--beer in a jar or beer in a bottle--it's a toss-up. Hell, I even love beer in a glass. I just really like beer--especially on a Saturday afternoon.
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