Biggest beauts in Europe

Top biffs of Europe

  • Dutch

  • English

  • Germans

  • French

  • Scots

  • Welsh

  • Northern Irish

  • Southern Irish

  • The cheese on toasters makers of the Czech Republic


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I'll have to fight you on that one. The French might have overrated wine and tanks with 8 reverse gears, but they know how to cook. American cuisine is throwing a large animal on to a fire and covering it in barbeque sauce.

There's beauty in simplicity.

(I'd actually nominate the Mexicans for best food, not my own people. Italians if we're sticking to the Europe theme.)

Did someone here honestly just claim that yanks make the best beer?

I need a lie down.

Jimmy-Carter.jpg


Praise be unto Jimmy Carter, patron saint of beer.

(As president he legalized homebrewing, an action credited with giving birth to the American craft beer industry. Which makes better beer than any of you beauts. Fight me.)
 
Did someone here honestly just claim that yanks make the best beer?

I need a lie down.

How many Yank beers have you tried?

Two most disgusting things I saw visiting Liverpool:

1) Dad walking Albert Dock with his sons, one in a full Neymar Barca kit and the other in a full Neymar Brazil kit
2) Grown men drinking Budweiser from a bottle in Wetherspoons

Considers changing vote...
 

There's beauty in simplicity.

(I'd actually nominate the Mexicans for best food, not my own people. Italians if we're sticking to the Europe theme.)



Jimmy-Carter.jpg


Praise be unto Jimmy Carter, patron saint of beer.

(As president he legalized homebrewing, an action credited with giving birth to the American craft beer industry. Which makes better beer than any of you beauts. Fight me.)


The Italians just throw tomatoes and bread into a fire and eat what happens.

Imagine, if you will, a barren, broken landscape. There are blackened trees with no leaves and scorched earth crunches beneath your feet. There appears to be a thick green haze of gaseous cocktails blurring everything, swallowing the horizon. There was a war here. Nuclear war. And this hell lost. You walk a little further on. There's no destination, there can't be, for you are unable to distinguish somewhere you could be destined for. You reach a large, metal gate, hanging for dear life from what's left of its hinges. You pass through it, like a numb soldier might step over a corpse. A house. Or what's left of it. Inside, charred belongings are a shrine to a life once lived. A man walked in those ragged shoes. Children played in that doll's house, the only structure that survived when hell came. You think you hear something, like the death echoes of of a lost civilization that wants to be heard one last time. This place plays tricks on the mind.
Drip drip. You turn around and see a radiator, blackened, almost ash. You decide to inspect it. It was broken before the war. There is an overflowing bucket collecting the last droplets of irradiated water just below it...
American beer tastes like the contents of that bucket.
 
The Italians just throw tomatoes and bread into a fire and eat what happens.

Imagine, if you will, a barren, broken landscape. There are blackened trees with no leaves and scorched earth crunches beneath your feet. There appears to be a thick green haze of gaseous cocktails blurring everything, swallowing the horizon. There was a war here. Nuclear war. And this hell lost. You walk a little further on. There's no destination, there can't be, for you are unable to distinguish somewhere you could be destined for. You reach a large, metal gate, hanging for dear life from what's left of its hinges. You pass through it, like a numb soldier might step over a corpse. A house. Or what's left of it. Inside, charred belongings are a shrine to a life once lived. A man walked in those ragged shoes. Children played in that doll's house, the only structure that survived when hell came. You think you hear something, like the death echoes of of a lost civilization that wants to be heard one last time. This place plays tricks on the mind.
Drip drip. You turn around and see a radiator, blackened, almost ash. You decide to inspect it. It was broken before the war. There is an overflowing bucket collecting the last droplets of irradiated water just below it...
American beer tastes like the contents of that bucket.

Again, complex is not equal to better. I appreciate a certain simplicity and elegance to my food. ;)

And look, it's not my fault the only thing that makes it across the pond is cheap swill. Every country has cheap swill. Beck's is complete garbage if you ask me.

Nobody believes me, I swear. Guess I'll just have to drown my sorrows in this when I get home.

ale-asylum-mercy-grand-cru.jpg


http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/13837/46231/

What a terrible fate.
 
Again, complex is not equal to better. I appreciate a certain simplicity and elegance to my food. ;)

And look, it's not my fault the only thing that makes it across the pond is cheap swill. Every country has cheap swill. Beck's is complete garbage if you ask me.

Nobody believes me, I swear. Guess I'll just have to drown my sorrows in this when I get home.

ale-asylum-mercy-grand-cru.jpg


http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/13837/46231/

What a terrible fate.

To be fair, the good old US of A makes most of the worst beer in the world.

It also makes some tremendously great beer, but this is a very young industry (less than 40 years). But there are some great beers found in Europe as well.
 
To be fair, the good old US of A makes most of the worst beer in the world.

It also makes some tremendously great beer, but this is a very young industry (less than 40 years). But there are some great beers found in Europe as well.

Yeah. True love in action is myself and a bottle of this:

3_7159750_3-500x500.jpg
 


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