Ice-Cold Wizardry: My Life Through Beer

When I am old and beaten down by my years I will raise a smile and remember the time my uncle took me to discover beer. For five days we had walked through the entrails of the Swiss Alps and now, at the end of the last and most difficult day, outside a mountain hut in the shadow of the Matterhorn he announced it was about time for a drink.

The glass was set down before me and as I peered into the golden squall with eyes narrowed and watched the waterfall of tiny bubbles rising up towards the head, I was afraid. After all this was beer, and I was eleven. Never…