t a local tavern.

Before too long, I realized I had a choice: live in fear of beer or be willing to drink my words. I chose the latter.

I suggested a beer tasting and agreed to sample from a list of beers chosen by beer lovers of the world. The final list was comprised of Saison Dupont Vieille Provision, Orval Trappist Ale, Great Divide Ti

Wrong. Webster’s dictionary defines wrong as “the state of being mistaken or incorrect.” I can admit when I am wrong. I was wrong when I bet my younger sister that she could jump down an entire flight of stairs without breaking her ankle. I was wrong when I told my dad that there was no way the Denver Broncos were going to lose Super Bowl XXIV to the San Francisco 49ers. And, I was wrong when I wrote that wine was in a different league than beer.

Turns out, they are both in leagues of their own.

When beer lovers and advocates got wind of my previous viewpoint, they responded in a What you talking bout Willis manner. Stopping just short of taking all the worlds’ beers and pouring them down the drain (insert evil laugh here), I had done something worse. I had equated all beers with the less than stellar examples that fill the mini-fridges of dorm rooms everywhere: the Coors Light, the Budweisers, the Keystone Lights, and, cue gag reflex, the Natural Lights.

After the outrage from my article came to my attention, I walked along the city streets of Denver a little cautiously. At any moment, I expected an Imperial Stout to throw itself toward me, cutting my forehead with the tip of its (heart)broken bottle. I feared that beer drinkers everywhere would look at me and just know I was the enemy. I even went so far to convince myself that an IPA flipped me off as I dined at a local tavern.

Before too long, I realized I had a choice: live in fear of beer or be willing to drink my words. I chose the latter.

I suggested a beer tasting and agreed to sample from a list of beers chosen by beer lovers of the world. The final list was comprised of Saison Dupont Vieille Provision, Orval Trappist Ale, Great Divide Tit

o the San Francisco 49ers. And, I was wrong when I wrote that wine was in a different league than beer.

Turns out, they are both in leagues of their own.

When beer lovers and advocates got wind of my previous viewpoint, they responded in a What you talking bout Willis manner. Stopping just short of taking all the worlds’ beers and pouring them down the drain (insert evil laugh here), I had done something worse. I had equated all beers with the less than stellar examples that fill the mini-fridges of dorm rooms everywhere: the Coors Light, the Budweisers, the Keystone Lights, and, cue gag reflex, the Natural Lights.

After the outrage from my article came to my attention, I walked along the city streets of Denver a little cautiously. At any moment, I expected an Imperial Stout to throw itself toward me, cutting my forehead with the tip of its (heart)broken bottle. I feared that beer drinkers everywhere would look at me and just know I was the enemy. I even went so far to convince myself that an IPA flipped me off as I dined at a local tavern.

Before too long, I realized I had a choice: live in fear of beer or be willing to drink my words. I chose the latter.

I suggested a beer tasting and agreed to sample from a list of beers chosen by beer lovers of the world. The final list was comprised of Saison Dupont Vieille Provision, Orval Trappist Ale, Great Divide Ti

ring them down the drain (insert evil laugh here), I had done something worse. I had equated all beers with the less than stellar examples that fill the mini-fridges of dorm rooms everywhere: the Coors Light, the Budweisers, the Keystone Lights, and, cue gag reflex, the Natural Lights.

After the outrage from my article came to my attention, I walked along the city streets of Denver a little cautiously. At any moment, I expected an Imperial Stout to throw itself toward me, cutting my forehead with the tip of its (heart)broken bottle. I feared that beer drinkers everywhere would look at me and just know I was the enemy. I even went so far to convince myself that an IPA flipped me off as I dined at a local tavern.

Before too long, I realized I had a choice: live in fear of beer or be willing to drink my words. I chose the latter.

I suggested a beer tasting and agreed to sample from a list of beers chosen by beer lovers of the world. The final list was comprised of Saison Dupont Vieille Provision, Orval Trappist Ale, Great Divide Ti

ked along the city streets of Denver a little cautiously. At any moment, I expected an Imperial Stout to throw itself toward me, cutting my forehead with the tip of its (heart)broken bottle. I feared that beer drinkers everywhere would look at me and just know I was the enemy. I even went so far to convince myself that an IPA flipped me off as I dined at a local tavern.

Before too long, I realized I had a choice: live in fear of beer or be willing to drink my words. I chose the latter.

I suggested a beer tasting and agreed to sample from a list of beers chosen by beer lovers of the world. The final list was comprised of Saison Dupont Vieille Provision, Orval Trappist Ale, Great Divide Ti

t a local tavern.

Before too long, I realized I had a choice: live in fear of beer or be willing to drink my words. I chose the latter.

I suggested a beer tasting and agreed to sample from a list of beers chosen by beer lovers of the world. The final list was comprised of Saison Dupont Vieille Provision, Orval Trappist Ale, Great Divide Titan IPA, Bell’s Hopslam, Hoegaarden White, Great Divide Ridgeline Amber Ale, Goose Island Nut Brown Ale, and the New Belgium's La Folie.

The Hopslam and the Goose Island I was unable to locate; according to their respective websites, they are not distributed in Colorado. I did, however, locate the rest and I also threw in a Great Divide Saint Bridget’s Porter. It came in a sampler with the other Great Divide beers I had purchased and it was begging to be opened. Really, who am I to say no to alcohol?

My conclusions were pretty simple: I didn’t like every beer I tasted, but I can definitely see that they are highly diverse and, surprisingly, I actually found a few beers that I think I might even like better than, or as much as, wine (shhh..….don’t tell the grapes: they won‘t take it well).

To get into specifics, my conclusions were as follows:

The Saison Dupont Vieille Provision - A sip of this took me back to the days when I mowed the backyard, occasionally tasting grass as freshly cut specks flew into my mouth. This is a good thing. I like the taste of grass and sometimes as I mowed I found myself sticking out my tongue to catch grass blades just like a child sticks out their tongue to catch snow flakes. There is something very appealing about a beer that can capitalize on this taste and familiarity. In short, I found the Saison Dupont to be very good. It was fille