Why Reliable Beer Favorites Still Matter in the Age of Endless Choice

Spend any amount of time at a bar, restaurant, or bottle shop in Western Washington and you’re bound to notice it: Bodhizafa IPA, the flagship beer from local powerhouse Georgetown Brewing Company. You could be in the diviest of bars, the newly opened restaurant that only has two beers on tap, or the most out of the way convenience store, and the odds of a Bodhi sighting are still very much in your favor. It’s ubiquitous in a way that can probably only be matched by the likes of Rainier, and in those rare instances where you don’t spot the flaming G tap handle or Bodhi’s signature bright orange can, you’re likely to find Manny’s Pale Ale, Roger’s Pilsner, or another popular beer from Georgetown instead.

Now, when it comes to tap lists do I appreciate variety? Sure. And do I sometimes wish my favorite bars always had a line dedicated to world class Saison or an award-winning Kolsch? Absolutely. But I also appreciate the predictable joy of spotting a time tested friend among the cluster of colorful tap handles. (When it comes to Bodhizafa, that friend just so happens to have a GABF gold medal around its neck.) Plus, if we’re being honest with ourselves, we have all had moments when we’re feeling indecisive, or maybe others when we aren’t really looking for flavor fireworks. Or there are times when we recognize that particular situation isn’t necessarily about the beer, but is nonetheless improved—however modestly—with a tasty ale or lager. What we really want to find in these situations is a dependable, all around satisfying beer. Something we’ve tried, something we trust.

Black and white photo of a chalkboard menu above tap lines with many beer names. — Image Credit: Pexels/Viktoria Sergeeva

From Endless Choice to Overload

Much of what the recent boom in small and regional breweries—and here I’m thinking about the period from about 2012 to 2018—brought beer drinkers was a surfeit of choice. More breweries, more products, more styles. And that led to a commercial landscape defined by tap turnover and a seemingly endless array of new brands. Lured by tempting hop combinations, boozy liquid desserts, and more, enthusiastic fans tried hundreds, or in some cases thousands of unfamiliar beers, rating them before casting them aside as they continued their epicurean journey. For many, it was exciting, and the thrill of discovery was real. Here and there a Julius or a Prairie Bomb! would stand out, and people would praise it in romantic terms, but for years it was one first date after another for a large swath of the beer drinking public.

Beer festivals, lengthy tap lists, and sampler flights pushed us to constantly look for something new, sometimes seeming to emphasize the quantity of beers on offer over the quality of beers represented. But eventually there came a tipping point. Even as the United States approached the high water mark of 10,000 active brewery licenses, demographics were beginning to change, and then a global pandemic altered beer buying habits, pushing all but the most ardent enthusiasts back toward flagships and year-round offerings. Variety didn’t disappear completely, of course, and plenty of brewing companies continue to trade in newness and imagination.

A Return to Reliable Favorites

However, as we approach the midpoint of 2026, I can’t be the only person who’s burning out on the novelty and neverending rotation. Anymore, I’m looking for a long term relationship with the beers that I buy. After years of flirting with beers that have catchy names or enticing descriptions, I’ve stopped worrying about the chase and apply my energy to appreciating the excellent beers I already know. Similarly, I also identify with a slow but noticeable shift back to some of our long-standing drinking traditions: sessionable beers, comfortable and welcoming environments, and shared experiences. Instead of the myopia of check-ins or the tunnel vision of tasting flights, I’m happy to see more people visiting breweries for a sense of community and a few rounds of their favorite beer among friends and neighbors.

A few months ago I was on my way to a social gathering and wanted to pick up some beer to share. We were going to be hanging out for a few hours, so I wasn’t looking for anything high strength, and I wasn’t especially in the mood for a given style. In somewhat of a rush after ferrying my kids home from preschool and daycare, I hurried to the beer aisle of my local grocery store and proceeded to wander its length, letting my eyes drift up and down row after row of six packs, variety packs, and cases. When nothing jumped out at me on my first pass, I turned around and retraced my steps. Then, somewhere in the middle of the aisle, I spotted a beer I hadn’t had in ages: Deschutes Mirror Pond Pale Ale. I grabbed a 6-pack without a second thought. And you know what? I had no trouble convincing my friends to drink something that’s been in production for nearly 40 years.

A six pack of cans of 90 Schilling from Odell Brewing

Stop Chasing, Start Enjoying

These days, I’m glad to walk into a bar with a dozen well curated taps; I don’t need to stare at a list of 50 different beers to feel like I have options. And while it’s nice to see menus updated with darker, maltier, or barrel-aged beers in the cooler months, and bright, crisp, or fruit-forward styles during the warmer part of the year, I’m much less interested in a draft lineup that’s constantly in flux than I used to be. If I return to that same bar six weeks from now and they’re still pouring something like Tank 7 from Boulevard, I’m not going to be unhappy about it. Permanent taps are a controversial subject in the brewing industry, but if the neighborhood pub that’s walking distance from my house in Seattle wants to keep Bodhi on tap, they’ll hear no complaints from my end of the bar.

So here’s your challenge to consider before you order your next pint or buy another limited release four pack: Stop chasing hype and rarity. What was the drink that got you into flavorful beer? Revisit an old personal favorite or seek out a classic whether it’s Allagash White, Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald, Odell 90 Shilling, or Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. And then when you’re finished, order another. Remind yourself of the joy of consuming a freshly poured draft beer, or even a freshly canned beer. When I’m out shopping I routinely check packaging dates and I must say that here in Washington it’s quite reassuring to routinely, I might even say typically, find Bodhizafa sitting on a grocery shelf less than two weeks after a canning run. I would hope the same is true of a beer like Allagash White in New England.

Don’t be afraid of commitment. Let go of your FOMO. Learn to savor subtlety. Choosing a beer you’ve known for years, or a beer that you haven’t had in ages can deepen your appreciation for that beer, its style, or the brewery that made it. Give in to the enjoyable, and likely educational, journey it will certainly take you on each time you go for another sip. Pair it with different dishes and types of cuisine, making note of how the flavors amplify or diminish your satisfaction. Allow yourself to concentrate on a conversation with other beer drinkers instead of an app on your phone or the dizzying list of options on the menu.

I, for one, know I can depend on running into Bodhizafa again very soon. I look forward to it in fact. And whether I’m out to dinner with my family, picking up beer to bring to a party, or simply sitting down for a quick pint at the end of the day, I know I’m going to be delighted by that first swallop of smooth-drinking, pine-scented, citrus-accented IPA. So much so that I’ll probably crack another can or order another round of the same. Here’s to loyalty, and plenty more Bodhi in the years to come.

_{Images courtesy of respective breweries}