Go into any country pub in New Zealand, and look behind the counter. You will find three standard beers that won’t ever change: Speight’s, Tui, and DB Draught. Brown bottle beers that are about as exciting as visiting Gore or your grandparents for the weekend. Then a sparkle hits your eye. It’s the one green bottle in the fridge. It’s cold, it’s old, its Steinlager.
Steinlager is an old man beer and you don’t see it getting as much attention as you do its grandson, the Huffer-vest wearing, vape-smoking Tokyo Dry. No, Steinlager is Jeff Wilson in a bottle. It’s been a mainstay of New Zealand rugby and cricket, and has helped make sports commentary all the more entertaining. Think of generic New Zealand beers as a rugby team. If Speight’s, Tui, DB and Export are the forwards, and the smaller, crisper craft brews are the backs, then surely Steinlager is Richie McCaw, Colin Meads and David Kirk rolled into one.
Steinlager is the best root you can find in the Octy on a Saturday night. It will use a condom and won’t try put it in your arse. It’s the beer that you will shout you a taxi the morning after. It’s the nice guy of fuckboy beers. Yet, it won’t want a relationship. You see, Steinlager is a bit like Selwyn College. It’s old, everyone knows what it is, and it thinks it’s better than everyone else. Drinking Steinlager is as exciting as watching a Selwyn initiation, or better yet, a cricket match on a Saturday afternoon. If you’re not really into it, it’s boring as fuck.
Drinking an entire box is a different matter entirely. It makes you want to wear lucky red socks and get excited about the America’s Cup. It makes you want to forgive the Warriors. It will compel you to talk out of your arse about Billy Stanlake’s fast bowling technique. It tastes like old man sweat and you’ll vomit the colour of the opposition’s jersey. But still, give it a go. It’s the wicket that won’t go down. It’s not going anywhere soon and you may as well use the last of the summer sun to soak up a few of these bevvies before the fucking cold sets in again.
Taste Rating: 8.1/10
Froth Level: 5/10
Tasting notes: French kissing Sir Peter Blake, Buck Shelford’s ripped scrotum.
Pairs well with: After-game punch ups, drinking from the cup, the silver fern.