There’s a mysterious new barman at my local pub.

He’s not like the other barmen.  He keeps himself to himself.  He seems a little bit nervy; a little bit other-worldly.  I call him the Beer Whisperer.

The Beer Whisperer is possessed of magic powers.  He has a secret gift.  The Beer Whisperer has the uncanny ability to be able to predict what type of beer I will enjoy.

Undecided; standing at the bar; normally I am more assertive than this; normally I know what I want: enter the Beer Whisperer.

“Kentish Pip.”

It is not my normal choice, but it’s a hot day and maybe a cider would be nice.

So clear is the liquid in the glass, it is only the bubbles that prevent me from believing that I am being served the pub equivalent of the Emperor’s New Clothes.  The taste, though, belies the lightness of the colour.  It is smooth and flavoursome and summer-harvest apple-y.  I couldn’t have ordered better for myself.

1-0 to the Beer Whisperer.

Day two, and the Beer Whisperer makes a suggestion closer to my comfort zone:

“Stiegl Weisse.”

I favour a wheat beer, and the Stiegl Weisse is a good example.  Powerfully fruity, with a frothy white head, which always puts me in a good mood.

The Beer Whisperer scores again.

The following day, and with the weather still hot, I had been contemplating a cider return, but the Beer Whisperer has other ideas:

“Redemption Hopspur.”

It is a cask ale.  A good amber colour, and very easily quaffable on a sun-drenched afternoon.  I drain my glass, but not before raising a silent toast to the Beer Whisperer.

So, the Beer Whisperer.  Does this mythical creature really exist?

Well, either he’s the Beer Whisperer, or I’m just not that fussy about what kind of beer I’m drinking.

© Beery Sue

Beery Sue is someone who is relatively easily pleased.