Interviewing Scott Holm with Chainline Brewing gave me the opportunity to discuss one of my favorite topics, beer.

An apocryphal quote attributed to Benjamin Franklin holds that beer is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Whoever actually said it knew how to preach a good sermon.

I would also say the same thing about the microbrewery culture in the Pacific Northwest. On days when I’m feeling a little down, all I have to do is remind myself of the dozens of local beers available to me that are not to most people in the world outside of major brewing cultures.

For those who aren’t familiar with the microbrewry scene here, you might be tempted to think of a local dive bar infested with less than sterling characters your mother wouldn’t want you to play with.

In reality, microbreweries are the answer to a prayer for people like me who refuse to settle for anything other than good quality beer. Having the expansive hop fields of the Yakima Valley in the same state helps. Microbreweries also allow us to partake in our high standard consumption in a classy atmosphere that doesn’t require a 300 pound bouncer (which means for those of you with underage progeny, you can bring your five-year old kid in tow and not worry about corrupting influences on their naiveté).

I am what you would might refer to as “broad minded” when it comes to types of beer I like. There are very few I’ll refuse, provided they’re brewed well, so yes, I could theoretically be regarded as a beer snob.

For those who know me, this is a strange series (and allegedly unfortunate) turn of events, because not too long ago if someone had served me beer I would have pushed it away in disgust. Throughout college, I couldn’t even stand the smell. However, this was due less to beer itself and more to the quality of beer available to us poor college students. Most drank cheap swill – the brands of which shall remain anonymous, but you know who you are – that would make a goat gag.

Ignorant of the wonderful world of microbrews due to a financial myopia, I couldn’t understand how anyone could actually enjoy the taste of beer.

Fortunately, I was saved from my self-imposed prohibitionism while working a particularly grueling summer job in 2009, which included one of the hottest days on record. After losing about a pound in sweat while loading cars, trucks and SUVs with thousands of pounds of concrete mix, I sought refuge at the end of my shift with a friend, who offered me an iced bottle of a local Pilsner whose name regretfully escapes me. Relishing its crisp, refreshing quality, I was given a new hope, a hope that there were better beers out there. And I was determined to find them.

In the years since, my Christopher Columbus-style exploration has opened me up to the New World of microbrews. Wherever I go in the state, even in the tiniest of towns, there is always a microbrewery tucked away for me to discover with a growler in hand. Many road trips I take are thinly disguised pilgrimages to my favorite breweries.

What makes these beers so wonderful are the different occasions for which to enjoy them. On a hot summer day, it’s hard to beat a good Hefeweizen, Pilsner or Belgium Wheat Ale. The spring deluges we endure seem perfectly appropriate for a thick stout. And some, like the speciality beers or Indian Pale Ales, are an event unto themselves.

Comments by friends from other parts of the country about our wide selection of microbeers only affirms what a privilege it is. Yet, I fear many natives may not fully appreciate this when they go to local breweries or pubs while our fellow brethren elsewhere must content themselves with the brand x’s. So hoist a local microbrew, and be happy. Deus vult!

TJ Martinell is a reporter with the Kirkland Reporter.