Here's another one from Matt.
The Man Who Knew Too Much
Description: He's the James Bond of beer knowledge. His game is beer. Fine beer. You can picture him sitting across the craps table from his nemesis in Monaco, being offered a glass of Special Reserve, and saying, "This is excellent, Hop Devil, but don't you think it would have benefited
from 15 more minutes in the boil and a half ounce more Hallertau in secondary?" Do not cross him, for he feels licensed to thrill you with his acumen. If he says there are only seven Trappist breweries in the world and that the beer you are tasting, while indeed Belgian, is not technically Trappist, just nod politely and back away. Otherwise, he will proceed to list the name, location, and date of origin for each of said breweries before the girl at your side slips her arm in his and they head back to his place to determine whether her body has the appropriate mouthfeel. Or she just whispers in your ear that this is exactly why she didn't want to come to a beer tasting in the first place.
Typical comment: "Methinks I detect the slight presence of a Prunus necrotic ring-spot infection."
Previous entries: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV.
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