Sixpaquet appeared in surprisingly good shape considering this was his 30th event of the week, and he had sampled 47 homebrews before 2 p.m. the previous day.
People who are willing to shell out $75 (before tax and gratuity) for a French beer dinner are an unusual sort. The French are known for a great many things, as they are the first to tell you, but beer is not one of them. I believe Kronenbourg is French for "not Miller, but close," and the nation's greatest advantage when it comes to beer is its proximity to Belgium and Germany.
At our table, under a Rococo ceiling fresco of Fragonard's The Swing, I was surrounded by 17 beer geeks - beeks? - hops obsessives who are fluent in all things beer as opposed to the thirsty multitudes who simply think "Bière, bien."
There were home brewers, beer tourists, beer bloggers, people employed in the beer trade, owners of monstrous cellars stocked with as many as 150 different cases of beers. All of the patrons were fluent in the heady language of beers.
Many of the beer geeks were bi-bibulous - OK, I made that word up - that is, they like beer and wine.
An astonishing number were schoolteachers.
They posed philosophical quandaries such as "I still haven't found the right beer to go with ribs, just as I haven't found a wine that goes with salad," but, ever hopeful, continue on a lifelong, possibly quixotic search to find them.
Beer geeks like all brews but bad beer, specifically the flavor-deprived lager too many Americans swill. Might as well drink water, they said.
