(Pictured hops pellets used in brewing)


Despite this blog post being food themed, it does not necessarily belong on the food page. If you landed here from another category, stick around!

Recently, I had the dubious pleasure of sampling hops during a brewery tour (proceed with caution, folks). And let me tell you, it was far from a delightful experience. While hops can be delectable in moderate amounts—hello, IPA lovers—it turns out that popping a pellet of hops into your mouth will overload your senses and leave you dry heaving. Despite the suffering, the brewer insisted that after this hop-induced trauma, I would forever recognize the distinctive taste of hops in the beers I consumed. To my dismay, the brewer was right. To this day, whenever I find myself in the kitchen, sampling an ingredient before adding it to a dish, I’m amazed at how even a tiny bit of that ingredient manages to make its presence known in the final creation. It seems concentrated experiences hold the power to train our senses to detect even the faintest echoes of their essence later on.

But hold on tight, folks, because this phenomenon extends beyond the culinary. I was reminiscing with my girlfriend, telling her the story you just read, when suddenly a light bulb flickered in my mind, connecting dots with another experience in my life. Let me share another anecdote with you. I found myself at a bar, surrounded by a group of coworkers, when one of them began recounting the epic saga of how he bagged a once-in-a-lifetime mountain billy goat. Now, if you’re unfamiliar with the significance of a “once-in-a-lifetime” permit for hunting mountain goats, allow me to paint you a picture. You’ve got to venture where these goats roam—high up in the mountains. There are certain animals and permits that a state will only allow you to hunt once in your entire existence. Once you’ve harvested such a creature, law dictates that you won’t ever hunt it again. These tags are issued through a lottery, and being fortunate enough to secure one is a monumental achievement, requiring tremendous effort and investment.

At the end of his epic tale, a woman seated across from me innocently asked the gentleman what mountain goat actually tasted like—a fair question, one might say. But, I nearly choked on my drink when, after his vivid description, she casually mentioned her desire to try some if he was willing to share. Talk about a major faux pas. Both he and I delicately tried to explain that sharing meat from such an extraordinary hunt was a more intimate and personal affair. The problem lay in a glaring disparity of values. You see, she had no frame of reference to grasp the true worth of his hard-earned trophy because she had never labored for something of similar significance. Sitting at that table, witnessing this uncomfortable scenario unfold before my eyes, I felt a flavor similar to that of consuming hops—an unpleasant taste of misaligned values. And here’s the thing: It has become easier for me to discern such conflicts, even when they’re entangled with the intricate tapestry of life. So, my friends, I implore you not to shy away from the occasional taste of hops. While it might be uncomfortable in the moment, it could spare you the agony of inadvertently offending your coworkers down the line.