For me it was Sam Adams Boston Lager.
It was 1986 and I was a freshman in college. To that point my beer universe was very small. Genesee, Utica Club and Pabst products were all my dad ever drank. Occasionally, we'd run into a Miller Genuine Draft or an OV Split at a house party. Old Viena was as exotic as it got.
Flash forward to my first year in college, my first time away from home. I went to a professors house for a 'mixer' and he was drinking a beer I'd never seen before. I asked what it was and he told me: Sam Adams Boston Lager. I didn't get to try one that night (I was underage after all). But I set out to find myself a six pack to try.
Back in 1986, the quest for craft beer was actually a quest (further complicated by my underage status). The places I was able to purchase beer would be less than likely to have Sam Adams today, let alone 25 years ago. I was stymied.
While I was home for Christmas, I stopped into our local supermarket: Wegmans. For those of you who are familiar with Wegmans, I'm sure it will surprise you not that they would be on the bleeding edge of the craft beer movement. Even today, Wegmans stores have a craft beer selection that soundly trumps all but the best bottle shops. I love Wegmans.
December 1986 and there it was, a six pack of Sam Adams in the beer cooler at Wegmans. I had never tried my weak at best, Time Square issued fake id at a store as reputable as Wegmans. But I wanted that Sam Adams very badly so I grabbed a six pack, crossed my fingers and walked (as casually as my excitement and nervousness would allow) up to the checkout.
I put down the six pack, presented my id when requested and held my breath. To my pleasant surprise, the cashier passed my id back to me with barely a glance. I was home free, or so I thought. What the cashier did next nearly derailed my quest. She asked me for the $8.84 purchase price of the six pack.
At the time, I was used to paying $1.99 for a six pack of UC. I was convinced that I was being charged the case price by mistake. I had a split second to decide - did I push my luck and make an issue of it or did I make a hasty exit with my fraud undetected. I paid the $8.84 (which was the better part of what I had on me) and hot-footed it out into the parking lot. Only later did I come to understand that the price was correct and that my fiduciary relationship with beer had just shifted irrevocably in beer's favor.
I took the beer home and put it in the beer fridge in my garage. I tried two that night and was absolutely blown away. Sam Adams Boston Lager was a revelation to a palate trained on Uncle Charlie and Genny Screamers. I was blown away by all aspects of the beer. It's color, it's complexity - even the label shouted sophistication. I was hooked.
I made the six last through Christmas break having one beer a night, parsing out my find like the treasure it was. And it was grand.
I remember my first craft beer in such detail for two reasons. First and foremost, that taste of Sam Adams made me immediately unfit for fizzy yellow beer and set me on the path that has lead me through two plus decades (and counting) of craft beer, brew pubs and homebrewing (thank you Sam). Secondly, but no less memorably, that first Sam six pack taught me a valuable lesson in the economics of craft beer.
At the end of Christmas break, as I was saying goodbye to my parents I asked my father for some spending money to carry me through the spring semester. He shook my hand, said "Anyone who can afford $7.99 for a six pack of beer certainly doesn't need my money" and walked back into the house.
That spring semester was rough. Since then, I've been very careful to keep quiet the actual amount of money I spend on beer. A valuable lesson that serves me to this day (thank you Sam).