Life is Not Necessarily Too Short to Drink Cheap Beer

Who likes cheap beer? Anyone?

Nobody admits to being a cheap beer connoisseur – but it’s out there, in dorm rooms and in beer pong cups. Not many claim to love it, but a heck of a lot of college kids drink it, mostly because they’re broke.

It would be a disservice for me, a self-proclaimed beer cacahuate, to completely ignore the realm of cheap beer. Besides, in this day and age, we could all stand to save a buck or two.

Cheap beers, or “big, dumb beers” as I call them, have kind of a bad name in this day and age of microbreweries everywhere, but we can’t ignore them. I’d be willing to bet your first beer was something cheap and skunky. Never forget your big, dumb beer roots. And even the stuffiest of beer snobs have a big, dumb guilty beer pleasure, no matter how much they’ll tell you they don’t.

What’s my big dumb beer of choice?


I know you know Rolling Rock. It’s probably the neatest looking cheap beer, with its vibrant green bottle and white print etched right onto the bottle (no label).

First, let’s get some things out of the way. Rolling Rock is labeled “extra pale,” which makes it sound a great deal like a microbrew or something fancy. Unfortunately, the “extra pale” is in reference to the way it looks when poured into a glass.

Also included is the phrase “premium beer.” It’s not. That’s marketing.

The reason for Rolling Rock’s cheapness is easy to see: the beer itself includes two ingredients that give microbrewers the chills: RICE and CORN. Not only are these two ingredients cheap (thus making a less expensive brew for you), historically, they’ve also aided brewers in getting rid of flavor – especially that pesky beer taste. It’s true.

That said, don’t expect a flying circus of flavor when you drink Rolling Rock. Expect a cool onslaught of fizz, followed by a light, tinkly corn flavor and a little bit of sweet. There is almost no aftertaste, and at a piddly 4.6% awesomeness-by-volume (ABV), no fuzzy afterglow. The beer gives the proverbial middle finger to my taste buds.

But I still drink it. Why? Certain beer should always been seen in the proper context. I’d love to meet someone who chugs a Guinness after mowing a lawn, or takes an obscure, Bavarian import beer camping with them.

We don’t watch Family Guy for character development and complex plot devices – the same way I don’t drink Rolling Rock to appreciate the hop character and malt flavor.

For all I’m concerned, nobody makes a big, dumb beer better than Rolling Rock. Big dumb beers go great with kicking back with friends, watching the Seachickens fumble the ball on TV, or congratulating yourself after a long evening of newspaper production.

The other cheap beers sitting next to Rolling Rock either provide almost no flavor (completely ignoring my tastebuds is more offensive to me than a middle finger), or give you a terrible, otherworldly aftertaste. I’m sure you can think of some beers in this category.

This beer, along with others that contain rice and corn (like original Budweiser or Coors), would be a good choice for inexperienced beer drinkers, or beerjins, as I call them.

I admit to not having tried this beer with any food, but since it’s pretty harmless, you could probably have it with anything. But, please, unless you have a diagnosed, incurable, habit of making yourself miserable, do not drink a warm Rolling Rock. I would describe the flavor and sensation of this, but I can only make so many urine references in this column.

This week, celebrate your roots, set aside your prejudices and drink up, even if you have to hold your nose.