character:

One grabs a pint of ale off the bar the same way one grabs a favorite cotton sweater out of the hamper—that is to say naturally, without a great deal of thought, and with the slightest smile of reassurance that some of life’s pleasures really are just that easy. Comfortable, relaxed, familiar, dark yet slightly faded and broken-in over years of use, it is that last essential layer of warmth on a crisp fall day. The kind of thing you might grab on your way to meet a friend for a pint at the local. The kind of thing you have grabbed so many times, to start so many good times, that when you sit down among friends at the local you find that it—that extra layer of warmth on a crisp autumn day— has become something of an old friend, too.

tastes like:

The sound of your brother’s voice.

pairs nicely with:

Being English, or (short of that) being in England, or (short of that) being thirsty; 4:15 pm on a Tuesday afternoon, catching up with old friends, and any conversation with a friend one hasn’t seen in ages which centers primarily around either a) what’s to be done about the girl, or b) what’s to be done about the defense; hastily loosened neckties, rolled up sleeves, and any bar in which a framed picture of that bar’s intramural football/basketball/soccer/softball team is displayed anywhere on premise; grill smoke, the sound of a college fight song played by a marching band, and tailgating, in general; watching the game at the local, offering astute tactical advice to players on a television screen, watching said astute tactical advice go disastrously unheeded, and shouting firm (but fair) reprimands at players and/or referees on a television screen; a half pint of stout, a bartender with a steady pour, and any bartender capable of pouring an exemplary black & tan while at the same time giving a brief lecture on exactly what’s to be done about both the girl and the defense; and England’s first and by far most comforting registered trademark.