Czech beer is... growing up, it's family, friends and home sweet home
I'll never forget the times, when as a young boy, I was being sent for a
dzban ('jug') of the golden Pilsner brew for Sunday lunch. Where we lived,
there was a pub just down the street, maybe 100 - 150 meters. But at times
this could be 100 - 150 km.
Fresh beer was my father's Sunday ritual, every Sunday, no exceptions. The
key was, it had to be delivered with a fresh-foam head. Of course as any
other young boy, coming in terms with this big responsibility, I always
sipped the beer along the way. Especially during the summer... the sun and
cold beer. Nothing better!
The problem is, once you have a sip, there must another and another one to
follow, and the walk back home became very, very long walk. And so went the
The look on my father's face when he saw the beer, priceless. My head paid
the price for the lost head on his beloved brew.
It wasn't until I went back home one year, after my father passed away,
that I realized how important all this was. Although, I lost my own head
times in my lifetime, I never drink the golden Pilsner without a fresh
The way my father taught me.
In memories of my father,
Peter Osicka, Onatario, Canada