Countdown to 2008: Bill's Top Ten Beers of 2007

8. Stella Artois – One of the most commonly accessible of Belgian beers, the joys of Stella Artois go far beyond its flawlessly easy manner of consumption. First, it allows me to sound really smart when I am saying its oh-so-fancy name. Second, it allows me a good laugh when some frat boy reject takes a flyer and calls it Stella “Are-Toys.” Third, it comes in a specialty glass, and there is something cool about feeling like you could be a member of King Arthur’s Knights of the Roundtable while said frat boy reject proceeds to throw some Daughtry on the soulless TouchTunes jukebox. Extra points go to the goblet’s grabability should the previously twice-identified frat boy reject make an ill-timed pass toward your wife or special lady friend. Get it at: Just about anywhere, but I'll give Tir na Nog a plug.

7. Chimay – An absolute class experience every time. The first time I drank this, it immediately made me feel a step above every other partygoer in the room. Of course, that is not hard to do when you are imbibing at Manayunk’s Flat Rock Saloon, where the collective IQ of the patrons rises to someplace in between "amoeba" and "concrete cinder block." It comes in four different varieties: Rouge, Bleue, Blanche, and Doree. For those who frequent the Flat Rock, these terms can be translated into “Red,” “Blue,” “White,” and “All the great beers on this menu and you are drinking a Bud Light?” Get it at: Monk's Cafe.

6. Blanche du Bruxelles – A new fascination. My experience with this Belgian witbier is limited. All I can say is this: I had two of these things at the Phillyist holiday party, started dancing to tunes that no one else could hear and neglected to introduce my wife to... anyone else in the bar. Delicious, lethal and capable of inspiring all sorts of anti-social behavior. In other words, makes my list with a bullet! Get it at: St. Stephen's Green.

5. Victory Golden Monkey – I think I read someplace that Victory Prima Pils won some award recently for Best Beer in some contest that will go nameless here because I don’t feel like doing the research. F that noise. Golden Monkey is the real deal. Because, when I drink a beer, sometimes I don’t want a bevy of savory hops and a smooth finish sans aftertaste. Sometimes, I just want to get ripped. And Golden Monkey does that in spades. The following events have all taken place after I decided to imbibe this most demonic of brews: Choosing not to drive home from a trip to visit my Jersey relatives because I was worried about my blood-to-alcohol ratio... after one beer? Check. Jumping out of a car in the middle of winter totally oblivious to the fact that I was actually in the second lane, just so I could throw up in a gas station parking lot? Word. Going all nutso on a server because she took my glass while it still had a half-a-sip left? Hey, I ain’t proud! I'm at the point where my wife won't allow me to have more than one Golden Monkey when we are out of the town. Perhaps I would be angry about this infringement upon my personal freedom if I did not know she was doing the right thing! Get it at: Don't quote me, but I believe it rotates in and out at North 3rd in Northern Liberties.

4. Newcastle Brown Ale – So you’re a young guy. You go out with a lot of girls. You love how it makes you feel when you are able to pull that fresh number. The way you feel the first time you pull up to that new girl’s apartment. The freshness of that flirtation you go through during that first dinner. That sense of anticipation as you feel as that lady takes your hand and... refer to Pencopal’s brand new sex column for more details! Still, there’s this one who has worked her way into your heart. And every time you go out on a date, you find yourself wondering what she is doing. You start to feel guilty feigning interest in other ladies when you all you really want is to be with her. You toss off veritable prospects because none of them seem to be able to live up to... THE ONE. Well, that is how I feel about England’s own Newcastle Brown Ale. Straight-forward, reliable, and a memorable experience every time. (Note: I’m married and dated like three ladies in my entire life, so I have no idea what I just wrote about.) Get it at: Pretty much anywhere, so I'm going to give the bar across the street from me some dap - Valley Forge Beef & Ale.

3. Brooklyn Weissebock – At a January beer-tasting event at Lafayette Hill’s stellar General Lafayette Inn, myself, the wife, and our buds Tom and Dan, happened upon this kindly gent who was dispensing Brooklyn Brewery products to many an eager customer. We took him up on his offer of a taste of this sterling Weizenbock, and found it to be absolutely sublime. I’m telling you, it was like swallowing a banana... Okay, it wasn’t that kinky. Let’s just say that it tastes like banana, and it was really good. We hung around this dude’s station for about an hour, like criminals at a late-night holiday ATM machine. The guy told me that it was a reserve beer and that it was a one-day only exhibition. So imagine my surprise about three months later when I was at McGillin’s for a work happy hour and they actually had it on draft! They may still have it... and they might not. I don’t really get out much. Good luck. Get it at: Not really sure. Sorry about the tease.

2. Hoegaarden – This refreshing Belgian witbier is the perfect beverage for a liberal such as myself. The charitable alcohol content screams “toughness,” while the fruit on the rim transmits that I’m cool with whatever you’re down with. Whatever floats one’s boat, I say. While I’m at it, let’s address the lemon vs. orange debate that constantly looms around this treasured brew. To me, it’s got to be the lemon. It adds an extra bit of acidic flavor to the beer’s easy-going delivery. The orange is just bland. If you are a bartender and you want to adorn a Hoegaarden imitator—Blue Moon perhaps?—with one of these vile citruses, have at it. But keep that thing away from my Hoegaarden, or have a towel handy for the inevitable splashback levied upon your visage. Get it at: Anywhere. So a little love for the Jersey heads - 45th Street Pub in Pennsauken.

1. Sapporo – There is just something about this crisp Japanese lager that keeps me coming back for more. And more. And more. Sure, it tastes great, but I think it is something in the way it makes me feel like a civilized Japanese businessman. I drink this stuff and it makes me want to sing karaoke while going to sleep in a cubicle the size of the average microwave. I enjoy saying the name of it, employing a long “R” that either makes me sound like an astute intellectual or a complete ignoramus, depending on the nationality of the server. But most of all, I like what it did to me on that night where I bought a pounder and killed it before heading over to a night at Sugar Mom’s. I like the way it made me do the Tom Cruise Color of Money dance when I beat that one buff, tattooed chick in a game of pool with a ricochet shot I wouldn’t have even attempted sober. Spewing bile out of my brother’s car window on the ride home? Not so great. But this is the price one pays for a good time, no? Get it at: My house. When it comes to having this stocked, I'm like Montell Jordan... This is how we do it!!!

Image credit to Flickr user surfstyle.