Stemware

Grand Cru's store manager had a surprise for us on Saturday - two cases of Boulevard Brewing Smokestack Series glasses, Belgian-style chalices that flare upward and supposedly enhance the beer's nose with their shape.

I could only sigh and grab one, wondering where in my collection this might fit. Collections and obsessions hit their limits. Thanks to my love of unusual beer glasses, steins, chalices and goblets clog half of my kitchen cabinets.

It started so simply, with a $2 Yuengling pint glass back in college. Then came gift packs from St. Sebastian and St. Paul, fine brews with tulip glasses that greatly benefited their ales. Christmas gift packs also stocked the cabinet -- I accumulated three very different St. Bernardus glasses over the years, plus a Chimay goblet (my parents friends in Arizona knew how much I loved their august beers, and gave me a goblet back in 2004).

Then the Winking Lizard and its monthly beer glass blew everything out of proportion, giving me everything from Stella Artois to Orval to Lefthand Milk Stout. The little collection swelled to more than 40 glasses.

The collection has seen a few casualties, including the cat-induced shattering of Ommegang Hennepin and Piraat goblets.One winter night in my old apartment, he nearly caused a glassware catastrophe. In the early evening, I heard a strange clinking of glasses, and when I got to the kitchen, the door fluttered slightly. The only rat that invaded my collection was Percy, who somehow worked his legs among the glasses and not struggled to escape. I rapidly grabbed what I could to clear a path, and miraculously, he left the cabinet with nothing broken. More fortunately, his interest in the cabinet faded, and he never again finessed his way through that glass minefield.

I managed the crush the thin lip of a Leffe goblet this year, but thankfully Rob gave me his the night we drank them at the Lizard.

More often, I refuse glasses, or offer them to people at adjoining tables; the Magic Hat pints were nice, but if there's any style I really don't need it's the standard pint. The only exception was the Sam Adams Utopias glass, which brewmaster Jim Koch designed with the folks at Riedel.

If beer costs $150-plus, it really should include a glass, but it took many hoops to get it. First, Sam Adams wouldn't ship to Tennessee, even though you can sell Utopias here. Nor would they ship to Ohio, where it cannot be sold. As far as Sam Adams knows, my parents bought the Utopias, because they would ship it to Georgia. When I finally saw the tiny vessel, the process seemed all the more ridiculous.

One Holy Grail remains - the infamous Pauwel Kwak glass. One of the best known Belgian glasses, it's also somewhat expensive ($30) and hard to track down. The closest I came was an emptied one sitting on a table at the Map Room in Chicago, a great beer bar which emphasizes appropriate glassware with whatever it pours (they gave me the first on-tap St. Bernardus Abt 12 I ever drank in one of the Christmas pack goblets).

But stealing so unique a glass, or any glass, felt wrong. The hunt for the unusual ones is just as fun as finally drinking from them. I will track down a Kwak glass some day, but I won't shove one under my shirt to smuggle it away. After all, some obsessions come with ethics.