This Sommelier’s Shift Drink Might Surprise You
It’s happened more times than I can count. Two or more hours after the “civilians” who don’t work in the industry clock out, I’ve finally settled onto a comfy bar stool at my local. Just before I take my first sip of the day’s first beverage that isn’t for business, one of my customers recognizes me. We lock eyes. They smile over their own glass of wine. I smile back.
“Fancy seeing you here,” they say. “What are you drinking?”
“Champagne of beers,” I say, holding up the iconic curves of a bottle of Miller High Life, decked in its signature white and green necklace bedazzled with the brand’s mascot, a lady— she looks like a cross between a witch and a cancan dancer—sitting on a sliver of the moon. This usually results in a shared laugh, its volume determined by how long they’ve been at the bar.
Our lady of the champagne of bottled beers
“Huh,” they say, quieter. “Well, I guess you’re off the clock. I figured you’d be drinking something different.” Left unsaid is the fact that “different” likely means expensive, or at least fascinating, something from a bucolic vineyard on the other side of the world. We share a toast.
“Nope,” I say, then take a swig, and sigh. They go back to their evening, watching sports or chatting up other friends from the neighborhood.
My whole body relaxes as the beer flows down my gullet. The flavor is basic, but pleasing. Comforting. Perfect. It’s delicious, for no reason at all. If I’m lucky, I catch a nod from the bartender, who’s also brought me a shot of whiskey.
Founded in 1903, Miller High Life has a storied tradition as an after-hours go-to for sommeliers, bartenders, and chefs. (In fact, just last year, Miller High Life became the official beer sponsor of “Top Chef,” the critically acclaimed reality show). There’s something magically refreshing about this beer’s gentle sweetness, soft bubbles and ice-cold, straightforward flavor after a long day—or night—working to make sure everyone else has a good time.
A plainspoken brew, Miller High Life fits neatly into the American mythos: The United States is a nation of proudly humble, hardworking folk who give their all in building community. When that work is done—we rest and drink beer, just like the good Lord intended. And nothing’s more American than turning a myth into commerce.
Make it stand out
The moniker “Champagne of Beers” developed as a marketing ploy. In the early 20th century, bottled beer was still a fairly new idea, especially in the U.S. Most beer was consumed at saloons or purchased, by those on the go, in metal or wooden pails. According to trademark forms from Molson Coors, the parent company behind Miller High Life, the beer first hit the market just ahead of New Year’s Eve. The pitch was an alternative to Champagne, for folks who didn’t like or couldn’t afford the stuff (which was, at that point, often cloyingly sweet and produced almost everywhere but France’s Champagne region).
Golden-hued, bottled in a clear, long-necked bottle designed to evoke the upmarket look of bubbly, Miller High Life’s gambit worked. Americans took to the new lager, and within 3-4 years, the product had a new slogan: “Champagne of Bottled Beers.” Over time, the word “bottled’ was dropped, and the rest is hoppy history.
So, how did Miller High Life become a bit of a “bartender’s handshake?” Like many aspects of beverage history, the real story is likely lost in the great beer steins of time. However, I have my suspicions about what happened. Throughout the 20th century, fine dining, haute, and nouvelle cuisine became democratized. Expertly executed dishes moved out of the kitchens of the nobility into restaurants. The working-class folks making those dishes, and serving the bespoke wines and cocktails alongside them, went from feeding one party a few times a day to feeding hundreds in a single night.
After the last customers went home, these workers were reaching for something, anything, that was uncomplicated and for them. Think about it. After hours of precise chopping, stirring, tweezing microgreens and twisting curls of citrus zest, no one, not the chefs, not the bartenders, wants to make anything. A tasty beer with a crown cap? Yes, please, and keep ‘em coming.
Michele Thomas is the editor of Modo di Bere Magazine. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from St. Joseph’s University and earned a Certified Sommelier credential from the Court of Master Sommeliers. Michele works full time as the General Manager and buyer for Greene Grape Wine & Spirits, in Brooklyn, NY and her writing has appeared in The New Yorker, Edible Brooklyn, and Activist Philanthropist.
She has taught English and Creative Writing at the Girls Write Now, Legal Outreach, Fordham University, and St. Joseph’s University, written science books for middle grade children and is the co-author of Culinary Careers for Dummies, with Annette Tomei and Tracey Biscontini (Wiley).
Formerly the executive editor for curriculum at the International Culinary Center (founded as the French Culinary Institute), Michele is currently working on a memoir of her adventures in food, wine, and family.
Read Michele’s day-in-the-life essay about working wine retail
