Beer.

There are songs about it, there are quotes about it, there are cartoon characters who crave it, and there are college students who crave it even more. Beer is pervasive in our culture, but how much do the masses really know about these malted grain sodas? Well, for those of you whose weekly regimen of thirties runs a gauntlet of Keystone Light, Keystone Light and Keystone Ice, welcome to the new-old world of craft beer.

Miller, Budweiser, Milwaukee’s Best and, for the true winners, Steel Reserve, the copious consumption of beer is a foregone conclusion on campuses across the country. According to the accumulated data of Wolfram Alpha, a data and mathematics firm, the United States consumed 56.9 billion pounds of beer in 2005. This amounts to a staggering 1,804 pounds per second.

What’s perhaps as striking as the rate of consumption, however, is the lack of diversity in consumption. Let’s face it: For any law-abiding 21-year-old with a college budget, the obvious choices come in silver or blue cans with easy-pour mouths and 29 fellow beers to back them up. Furthermore, “thirsty Thursday” and “why not Wednesday” hardly require a discerning eye when selecting your elixir of “relaxation.”

And that’s how I started: can in hand, quarter wells, two-fers and sideways scoffs at a more expensive — though more palatable — fare. My brain was blissfully unaware of my wallet, convinced that I was making the financially sound decision, and my tongue was blissfully unaware of hoppy IPAs, malty Trippels, hazy witbiers and chocolatey stouts, convinced that Coors was as good as beer could get.

Then I met a hoe.

It was on a cool autumn night when my buddy at the time mentioned that he dropped 11 bucks on a six pack of something called Hoegaarden. His small female friend had wanted to try it, since it had “hoe” in the title. Not a grand entrance into craft beer, but an entrance, nonetheless. A month later, after blowing far more than I had on books at the bars and enjoying none of it, I remembered that short conversation. I drove to Hy-Vee, purchased a six-pack against my own financial logic, and partook of the beer a few nights later, after my homework was finished and I had taken the trash out.

The experience was eye opening. Another buddy of mine and I both tried a sip, looked at each other with puzzled looks, and, in near unison asked, “is it just me, or is this, like, the best beer you’ve ever tasted?”

Hoegaarden — WHO-garden, as it is pronounced — is an unfiltered Belgian wheat beer with a crisp finish, a refreshing palate of citrus and coriander, and a bouquet that only improves as it warms.

For those of you who have ever quaffed only ice cold Keystone quickly before it warms, you will, I’m sure, be surprised to hear that letting the beer sit, to let it warm, makes it better. Drinking the beer was like discovering that the Super Bowl was being held in your back yard. It was like being invited to join the Ninja Turtles. In short, it was sublime.

Enjoying that beer taught me the power of a good beverage to trap you in the hear-and-now, slow down time, indulge sight, smell and taste all at the same time. Over the ensuing months, I drank less, but I enjoyed more. I sampled Rochefort Trappistes 10, a Belgian abbey ale, Goose Island Bourbon County Stout, putting Guiness to shame in both flavor and strength, and Three Floyds Dreadnaught Imperial IPA, a huge hoppy ale with vinous complexities.

Yes, sometimes a larger bottle may cost more than six Bud Heavies, but I didn’t care — I had found a world that a select few discover and an even select-er few appreciate.

The best part was, I was spending less money on beer! If relaxation was the goal, the craft beers had higher alcohol-by-volume levels than any of the crap in the “beer cave.” If taste was the goal, there was really no contest to begin with. With craft beer, you pay more attention to the beer and less to the quantity, which is a good thing.

For those of you who have been in my position, do yourself a favor and step outside your comfort zone, even for one night. Stop by Cyclone Liquors, next to the east Hy-Vee, pick up a six-pack or single of a beer that looks good, and give it a try. If you like Budweiser or Miller, try Hoegaarden. If you like Amberbock, try Fat Tire or the Flying Dog Amber. If you prefer fruity drinks, try a Lambic Style. If you don’t know what you like, ask any of the staff there, and they can point you in the right direction. If you hate it, you can leave the idea behind. But if you like it, then don’t forget who told you so.

Trust me, the payoff is immense. Less money on beer, fewer disappointing experiences, a greater appreciation for beer, and it can be just as much fun.

Ian Barker is a senior in chemical engineering from Des Moines.