I had a beer today that made me think. Rather, I had a Bud in a can for the first time in probably 20 years, and that sour, tinfoil taste brought me back to my pre-collegiate drinking years, when the craft-brew revolution was in its early days. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, variety was truly the spice of life and the empty trophies of my zymurgistic discoveries stood many ranks deep on my shelves. Since about 1994 my regular beer has been Sierra Nevada, and the only reason I would choose to drink a Budweiser is if it were offered me by my host.
Such was the case at a child's birthday party this afternoon, and as I gamely sipped the King of Beers I started to read the label, and that is when I started to notice that the old red and white can has changed with the years. For one thing, it proudly owns its lager heritage - although I recall nothing about adding rice in the Reinheitsgebot. It also provided alcohol content and nutritional information. That was a surprise, because I can remember when one of the Seattle-based breweries tried to show its nutrition information in the 1990s and got shot down by the FDA. Guess Bud is bigger, or the times have changed enough so that beer can be considered "food."
Budweiser's 12 oz can also claimed that Anheuser Busch is one of the world's largest recyclers. I wonder whether that is because it produces a greater volume of recyclable bottles and cans or whether the corporation is super green. I am inclined toward the former interpretation but would be curious to know the answer.
I noted the freshness date on the bottom of the can as directed by additional wording on the side. All told, there was more marketing information on this beer than your average breakfast cereal box. I am fairly certain I am in a small minority of beer drinkers who actually take the time to read it.