He used to come to Minneapolis every year for an event at Sherlock’s Home. Despite the stupid name, Sherlock’s was a damn fine brewpub, the best I’ve ever been to. Mr. Jackson would do a Scotch tasting the first day and a homebrew event the next.
I talked to him at the homebrew event. He signed my copy of his New World Guide To Beer and asked me if I had a beer in the homebrew competition. I told him that I did have a beer in the competition, but that it didn’t stand a chance of winning. He seemed a bit surprised at my pessimism. He hadn’t tasted my beer though. It wasn’t very good. Probably the worst I’d ever made.
Sadly Sherlock’s is no longer with us either. I’ll be raising a pint in Michael’s honor this evening, and following that up with a glass of Oban. I may pour the scotch right into my commemorative Sherlock’s Home imperial pint glass, directly after reliving it of it’s previous beerly contents.
