A Love Letter to pbr...

From your loyal, slightly hoppy friends at OTPH…

Oh, PBR, how you never cease to amaze us.

You’ve been with us since day one — quietly waiting in the cooler like that one friend who doesn’t say much but somehow always shows up right when you need them most.

Back when we first opened our doors, it was the era of the Craft Beer Explosion. We were swimming in hazy IPAs, imperial stouts, sours, doubles, triples, quads — the works. If it wasn’t barrel-aged or infused with elderflower and the tears of a monk, it wasn’t making the cut.

You see, back then, having a domestic beer on tap was a faux pas. An act of treason against the craft beer gods. Bud Light? Banished. Miller? Denied entry. Coors? Never heard of her.

And yet… somehow… you made it in.

You, with your perfectly average ABV, your unapologetic blue ribbon, your quiet confidence that said: “I may not be fancy, but I’m here for a good time.”

You were the great equalizer — the beer that stood proudly beside the hop-heavy titans and said, “Relax, y’all, not everything needs notes of passionfruit and pine tar.”

You’ve seen it all at OTPH:

• The dollar beer nights.

• The late-night jam sessions.

• The post–craft flight palate cleanses.

• The folks who came in for a sour and left with a blue can in hand.

  
  

Through it all, you’ve held your own — crisp, cool, and just a little rebellious.

So here’s to you, Pabst Blue Ribbon: the underdog, the OG, the beer that never tried too hard to impress but somehow became a legend anyway.

You may not have been brewed in a barrel once owned by a Viking, but you’ve got something better: street cred, grit, and a permanent place in the OTPH fridge. 

Forever yours,

The OTPH Crew