Charlie Sheen sure surprises us in some way everyday.

Sheen has broken the Guinness World Record for reaching 1 million Twitter followers the fastest, which Guinness officially confirmed Thursday.

He needed only 25 hours and 17 minutes to get 1 million followers. It’s pretty shocking. Guinness said in a statement, “Guinness World Records is excited to continue expanding the number of social media records it holds and looks forward to new records emerging from the rapidly evolving world of social media.”

Sheen has been tweeting a lot since he joined and he tweeted today, “I’ve been informed me that #Plan Better is rated a major success! thank u all! like my dear friend Gnarls Gnarlington says, #WINNING! not sure what all the legal noise is about… just verbally reached a deal with B. no court mon. yay…. ..yet the opposition felt it necessary to still harass me with old gibberish…. odd? perhaps. transparent? you betcha’! #WINNING! #teamsheen”

Photo: Arkangel/Flickr CC

DEDHAM — Pouring a good Guinness is a science and an art. Any buff of the brew knows that a good Guinness pour is as beautiful as tasty; a clean glass is key to display the decisive line that separates black and white and showcase the slight boast of sturdy foam over the top of the rim. Just like any pretty lady, looking good takes time; if you order your Guinness and it comes right up, you know it’s no good.

“It’s incomparable to any other beer,” says Joe Gillespie, bartender at the Penguin in Brigham Circle.

A Guinness enthusiast, Gillespie agreed to accompany me on a recent search the best Guinness pour on the South Shore

Our trip was a short one. The pints at our first stop — a high-end, crafty brew joint — were sad indeed.

But our second stop — a local watering hole, worn around the edges -– was so good, we stopped crawling.

The YardHouse in Dedham is home to a row of taps that stretches past the eye, serving up a myriad of imports and domestics.

Alongside the original expansion on Guinness, the “Black and Tan,” the YardHouse offers six cleverly named Guinness blends. The tastiest is the “Black Velvet,” a pint glass half filled with Wyder’s pear cider whose puckery taste pierces the half pint of Guinness atop, followed by “Black and Blue,” a blueberry concoction of Guinness & Sea Dog Bluepaw Wheat with real blueberries bobbing in a sea of foam. The flavors created are intricate and fun.

But the tasty Guinness mixes are no mask for a poor pour. After a taste of the creative concoctions we hailed the bartender for a pint of Guinness, the star of the show. Our drinks arrive not ten seconds later, barely time enough for the bartender to travel down the Goliath bar to the right tap.

We exchange disappointed shifts of the brow and examine the pour; settling before our eyes, sloppily dripping down the side of the pint glass and topped with brown tinged foam. After a hesitant first sip, our fears are confirmed.

A taste reminiscent of sour coffee sends us out the door and down the street to a small, cozy bar called Lewis’s.

Unfortunately, the man with the mean pour was on the other side of the bar enjoying a Bud Light, but our hopes were satisfied. Despite a slightly quick pour and no shamrock decor, the taste was impeccable. It was pretty, creamy, refreshing, clean and good for a second round.

As black and white as the beer itself, there are good and bad pours.

“It’s incredible” says Gillespie “like drinking a whole different beer”.

In a bit of good news for hardcore beer drinkers across the United States, Guinness Foreign Extra Stout is now available for sale across the country. Originally known as the West India Porter, The Foreign Extra Stout was first brewed in 1801 at St. James’s Gate Brewery in Dublin. After debuting in the U.S. market in 1817, the export of the brew to the country was halted during prohibition.

Deep brown in appearance, Guinness Foreign Extra Stout is carbonated unlike the nitrogenated Guinness Draught with which most of us are familiar. The specialty beer is 7.5 percent alcohol by volume and possesses strong, roasted aromas followed by a unique bittersweet taste that beer aficionados can enjoy. Produced using four basic ingredients (grain, water, hops, and yeast), the Foreign Extra Stout is brewed at a higher hop rate than Guinness Draught and is known for its initial effervescent impact, which leads to a dry finish and a full bodied palate of roast character.

“Guinness Foreign Extra Stout appeals to beer drinkers who love to explore beer and are looking for a serious stout,” said Patrick Hughes, Brand Director, Guinness. “It is a unique beer with a distinctive taste, aroma and color and offers Guinness fans another way to enjoy the high quality, rich, satisfying Guinness experience that is the core of our brand.”

Foreign Extra Stout is recommended to be served in a Guinness goblet, but can also be enjoyed chilled straight from the bottle. Guinness recommends drinkers use a one-part-pour at a 45-degree angle and follow a five step ritual: Chill, Release, Pour, Toast, and Enjoy Responsibly.

Surprisingly, Guinness Foreign Extra Stout makes up 45 percent of Guinness sales globally and is regarded as a more sophisticated option for those who enjoy an occasional Guinness. It is now available at your local package store and is sold in packs of four.

“Guinness: It’s good for you!” was the advertising motto of the world’s most popular stout for a good part of the 20th century. As a 13-year old drinking my first pint of it in a Dublin pub, I came up with my own slogans. “Drink this stuff from the River Liffey, and you’ll be sick, in a jiffy” was one. “It’s foaming head kills bugs dead” was another. But soon I learned not only to love this stuff (an event that occurred before the very pint I was mocking was half-gone) but I came to favor this style of beer in general.

Once you go black you can’t go back, and for me there was no returning to the canned piss water that is most of the beer sold in the United States. Lagers, even really good ones, remain my least favorite beers. There are lots of ales that are delicious, but my heart belongs to porter specifically. Stout, porter, beer, ale — what does it all mean? Pour me a pint and I’ll tell you.

Ah, good. Well, first I’m obligated to say that like most systems of nomenclature, there are some inconsistencies and vagaries. But I still feel confident — and more confident with every sip — that I can give you the suss on these basic terms.

Beer

It’s all beer, so don’t let anyone convince you that a certain brand “is an ale (or whatever) and not a beer.” You don’t have to take a swing at them, just don’t believe it. According to Michael Jackson (an Englishman who is as famous in the beer world as the identically-named King of Pop was in the music world), six centuries ago there was a distinction, briefly, but it’s long gone.

Dark beers get their color from malt, germinated grains that resemble bean sprouts one finds in a salad. The malt is cooked before it’s added to the brewing process. For lighter beers, care is taken to avoid carbonization that will add pigment to the finished product. For darker beers, the idea is to toast the malt so that a dark color — and more importantly a deep, dark flavor — is the final result.

There are three principle types of beers — lager, lambic, and ale — and one can’t always tell which is which by looking at it. One can’t always tell by taste either, although maybe the English Michael Jackson and other experts at that level are able to.

Lager

With few exceptions, when a beer is brewed so that all the gross vomity-looking yeast that gets thrown away sinks to the bottom, that’s a lager. Of the three principle types of beer, lager is the youngest. Developed in Austria and Bavaria in the mid 1800s, it soon became the lifeblood of the whole German beer culture of gigantic steins and the Reinheitsgebot laws that had already been laid down centuries before.

Pilsner is one of the first distinct types of lagers developed; Heineken is an example of it, as is the Chinese beer Tsingtao. Bock, a sometimes-dark lager that has managed to grow testes, is still another. So are the “American-style lagers” I previously compared to diluted urine. In fact, lager is the most popular beer in the world.

To my own pallet, Asian lagers such as Singha (Thailand), Kirin, Suntory (both from Japan) and Tsingtao taste better (i.e. less bad) than other non-Bock lagers. I have no explanation for that nor expectation that your own taste buds will agree; try them yourself.

Lambic

Another type of beer is lambic. Except for a very few adventurous microbrewers elsewhere, lambic is a peculiar creation that only comes from certain regions in Belgium.

Rather than relying upon added yeast, lambic is a result of the untamed yeast molds and bacteria that are already found on the barley and wheat used to make it. It has a fruity taste reminiscent of wine or hard cider, and many lambics are so loaded with raspberries or other fruits that they fall into the category of “Belgian fruit beers.”

When I first staggered out of a drinkery in Brussels full of this tasty sweet but un-beer-like stuff, I thought all Belgian fruit beers were lambics. Only recently I learned plenty of Belgian fruit beers are actually ales, the type of beer most germane to discussion of Guinness and its swarthy kin.

Ale

Remember that putridness that sinks to the bottom when lager is brewed? When brewing ale, that yucky gunk floats at the top. Premium beers associated with Trappist monks in Belgium, such as the Chimay brands, are ales. So are barley wines, potent potables that substitute grains for grapes. Bitters are a pale ale overloaded with hops, while other ales, such as the various brands of “India Pale Ale” very popular with hobby brewers, aren’t hella different from certain lagers.

Ales, compared to lagers, more often have a dark color and flavor. Bass Ale is a darn good beer, and Smithwick’s (a similar beverage from Ireland) is even better. Newcastle Brown Ale is tasty, but none of these dark ales compares to Samuel Smith’s Nut Brown Ale — divine nectar I tend to think is overpriced until it hits my tongue and reminds me otherwise.

Porter

Even though I’m beer savvy, I can’t taste the line where dark ales end and porters begin, and I suspect any division imposed between them is arbitrary. What is definitely true is that many or most of the darkest, malty-est, most flava-ful ales are classified as porters, the story of which will bring us back to Dublin via London.

Supposedly, the term “porter” takes its name from the people who drank it the most, the porters (i.e. dockworkers, teamsters) who lifted cargo off ships and carried to it locations around London like two-legged mules. Maybe, but always be suspicious of this type of etymology; even when these explanations appear in writing around the same time as the coinage, as they’re often what scholars politely call “fanciful” (and what most folks just call “fake”).

So never mind where the term “porter” came from, just know it’s a particular dark beer that seems to have appeared in London around 1700, give or take a generation. It was almost immediately popular not just because it’s delicious, but because it had a better shelf life. Other beers around at the time were shipped to pubs while they were only half-brewed. This meant that as soon as they finished becoming beer, they could be consumed before they spoiled.

Not so porter. It could finish brewing at the brewery and then be bottled up for consumption whenever. It was easy to make in large quantities, and booze-wise it was strong stuff too. Soon people where getting rich from brewing it and even more were getting rich in spirit from drinking it.

Some distinct types of porters have been identified. “Baltic porter” is a high-proof porter from the neighborhood of Russia, Poland, and Scandinavia. This stuff is a great example of why beer nomenclature is so slippery. Not only do some folks consider the traditional Baltic porter to be a stout, most Baltic porter nowadays is brewed with the sludge at the bottom. That actually makes it a lager if one accepts the technical definition.

Porter was also brewed in the American Colonies before the Revolutionary War, and “Pennsylvania porter” is a representative of this New World beer. But it’s an extra-hefty style of porter, discussed next, that’s the best known example.

Stout

There’s wide (but not universal) agreement that all stouts are porters, but not all porters are stouts. The debate about this is neither lively nor interesting, so let’s just skip it and look at the history instead.

The 18th century popularity of porter spawned variants. Some beer drinkers who favored the dark and yummy porters weren’t afraid of too much of a good thing, and increasingly darker and yummier porters grew in popularity. These roasty-good beers were dubbed with names like “double porter” or “stout porter.” That second term, when shorted, gives us “stout.”

In “Finnegan’s Wake,” the cheerily macabre 19th century Irish tune that inspired James Joyce’s eponymous Dublin epic, we’re told that Tim Finnegan is laid in his casket with a bottle of porter at his feet. “Guinness Extra Stout” was known as “Guinness Extra Superior Porter” until about the same time as this song was composed. Accordingly, there’s little reason not to think it was this same quintessentially Dublin drink that lay at the foot of poor Tim’s coffin.

The idea that “Guinness is good for you” (fearr de thº Guinness for those who “have Irish” ) wasn’t just a successful ad slogan. The company based it on some pretty shady “market research” in the 1920s in which people were asked how they felt after drinking it. Big surprise: they said they felt good. People took the idea literally and it was consumed in great quantities by nursing mothers and those with failing health. Eventually more modern sensibilities (and governmental regulations on advertising) took hold.

Guinness is the most famous Irish stout, but it’s not the only one. Its two traditional rivals, Murphy’s and Beamish, are both from Cork (Ireland’s “second city”). When I lived there doors away from the Murphy’s brewery, the smell of it and other beers brewed on-site assailed my nose as soon as I’d step out my door. The gaseous byproducts of the brewing process have an unmistakably distinct sweet scent. The odor can be nauseating, especially full on, but it’s also something I came to enjoy and, eventually, miss. In Cork City, the drinking of Guinness rather than one of the native stouts is a slightly traitorous act even though many locals themselves have actually switched to foreign-born lagers — such as Heineken and Budweiser — that are made in the same local breweries.

Some think these two Corkonian stouts are less bitter than Guinness, and Murphy’s based an ad campaign around this idea, but I’m not so sure. All three are a complex symphony of smoky tastes both bitter and sweet infused by the malting process. In describing what the non-visual senses perceive, people often fall back on comparisons. When discussing stouts, Irish and otherwise, “coffee” and “chocolate” are often mentioned, but this is more metaphor than similarity. Again, taste for yourself.

Besides these brown beers from the Emerald Island, there are stouts from elsewhere in the world. As said, the previously-mentioned “Baltic porter” is considered a stout by some and it’s similar in style to the “Imperial stouts” associated with Russia. Both share a high alcohol content that helps them survive the winters of Northern Europe without freezing.

“Milk stout” or “cream stout” is made with lactose, a sugar extracted from milk, and is sometimes called “sweet stout” for the resultant effect. “Oatmeal stout” is made from… can you guess? “Oyster stouts” hail from a bygone era when shellfish were a popular pub grub. Sometimes the name just implies it’s to be enjoyed with oysters, but in many cases those same mollusks are part of the brewing process. What does that taste like? I don’t know and I don’t want to know.

“Chocolate stout” and “coffee stout” are typically just terms referring to particularly dark and aromatic stouts. Less often, it means a tiny amount of that ingredient is part of the brew process. That, and especially the bit about the oysters, makes me see the sense of the German beer laws.

Drinking it

The proper pouring of certain beers, especially Guinness, is considered essential by many. In its most dramatic expressing, the act of drawing a good point takes on the ritual of a Japanese tea ceremony. I wouldn’t say you can completely ruin a beer by pouring it wrong. I do think the texture of the beer can suffer, especially during the initial sips, and you only get one chance to make a first impression.

But it’s beyond debate that a decent beer deserves a glass. Beer from a bottle is acceptable if you’re trying to play beach volleyball at the same time as you drink, or if you’re underage and drinking on the roof of someone’s garage, but there aren’t many other situations that justify it.

Beers, especially good beers like some of those I mentioned, have multiple layers of flavor that kick in at different times. A taste of a well-crafted beer is like a firework that rises to the air in a trail of green, explodes red, explodes blue, dances around, explodes gold, and then surprises you with a shower of orange after you thought the show was over.

This party in your mouth can take place because your taste buds aren’t evenly distributed. The guys who taste sweet cluster in one place while the guys who taste sour hang out in another, and so on. Drinking beer from a bottle is like listening to music with the bass turned all the way off or having sex with a condom. Why do it if there’s no good reason?

Summary

Beer is beer. What different styles are called is sometimes a matter of debate. When gunk sinks to the bottom during brewing it’s lager, and if it floats to the top it’s ale. Certain dark ales are known as porters, and the darkest and creamiest porters are called stouts. Don’t drink from a bottle. Guinness is good for you.

For beer companies that make their money through mass distribution and high volume sales, history shows us that whenever one brewer introduces something new, the others follow.

Right now, it’s lime.

The Miller Brewing Company introduced Miller Chill in June 2007. The beer has done incredibly well — sales are about to surpass first-year expectations. According to Bloomberg Media, more than 325,000 barrels were sold in the first three months, allowing it to capture one percent of the US beer market-tremendous growth for an introductory product.

Anheuser-Busch just released Bud Light Lime. They intend to drive purchases amidst a struggling economy and stagnant beer sales. Just in time for summer barbecues, Anheuser-Busch is backing Bud Light Lime with a $35 million advertising campaign, MSNBC reports.

So how should beer companies react? Here are my recommendations for several well-known brands.

Bud Light Lime: You hopefully did the research and found that people like lime. Use your leverage as a mass-distributor to get your product to where people buy beer. Then advertise your lime beverage like crazy to get people to try it. A $35 million budget is a nice start. Drive sales up to make the investment worth it and then get out before sales tank.

Miller Chill: With another mass-market competitor entering, your brand will feel the pressure. So you have to make a decision. Do you pull out of the market, take your profit, and let Bud take the share? Or do you increase advertising and take on this new summer refreshment head to head? Not an easy call. I feel that you cannot just let Bud Light have the percent share of the market you worked hard to earn. You have done well this past year and with a little creative advertising, you should go challenge your largest competitor.

Coors Light: Stay out of the “lime craze.” You cannot win. First, you are too late to enter. You cannot compete after both Miller Lite and Bud Light have entered the arena. Second, you pride yourselves on “Rocky Mountain ice cold refreshment.” When people think about limes and beer, the most common association is Corona, which is a Mexican beer. The Rocky Mountain cold does not equate well with warm, Gulf coast beaches. A Coors Lime dilutes your unique positioning proposition.

Corona: Keep doing what you are doing, maybe step up advertising a little bit, but you are the import that owns limes. Lime plus beer equals Corona. What started as a seasonal beer is now the largest import beer in the United States. These other beers will fade and you will remain on top. Keep up the good work.

Guinness: Have no fear Guinness drinkers-your beer will not be changed. If there is one thing that will unite the Protestants and Catholics of Northern Ireland, it is a mutual agreement that fruit does not belong in thick, Irish beer. Your brew will remain unchanged.

Throngs of green-clad people. Pints of black or green-dyed brew. Plates of steaming corned beef and cabbage. These images have become synonymous with St. Patrick’s Day around the world. It started as an annual feast in honor of Ireland’s patron saint, St. Patrick. Legend has it that the Christian missionary drove all of the snakes from Ireland, and taught the native Irish about the Holy Trinity. While not an official holiday in the United States, almost every major city has events. Chicago, for example, dyes the Chicago River green each year, and New York City has a large annual parade.

In downtown Boston, where the city has celebrated St. Patrick’s Day since the mid-1700′s, Blast’s John Forrester gathered together a small group for an evening of Irish cuisine and beer. Beginning with pints of Guinness as Shepherd’s Pie was being prepared, the five guests sampled various Stout-based concoctions.

Guinness, by far Ireland’s most commercially successful beer, is often mixed with other types of beer and liqueurs. Both in the U.S. and in Ireland, the most common example is the “black and tan,” or “half and half — one part stout and one part lager or ale, such as Harp and Bass. Another popular mix was the “black fog” — a few splashes of Chambord, a Black Current flavored liqueur, and Guinness.

Overall, the crowd-pleaser seemed to be the Black and Gold half Stout and half alcoholic cider, such as Magner’s or Strongbow. There are, of course, countless other concoctions that will allow you to go beyond the standard pint of green-dyed Budweiser or traditional Guinness this holiday, so strap on that shamrock, throw on a green t-shirt, and start your own St. Patrick’s Day tradition this year.

“Craic” is an Irish term for a light-hearted evening filled with good food, drinks, music and laughter. While there are many ways to celebrate the holiday breweries, bars and restaurants are all known to have events–try inviting some friends over for an intimate night of Irish food and drinks this St. Patrick’s day. Instead of the stereotypical corned beef, hash and green beer, here’s a unique dish from the land of Erin that is sure to help bring a bit of craic to your St. Patrick’s Day party.

The Blast Shepherd’s Pie

Serves 5-6

2 to 2 1/2 pounds potatoes, such as russet, peeled and cubed
3 tablespoons sour cream
1 cup milk
Salt and black pepper
extra-virgin olive oil

1 11.5 fl. Oz. bottle of Guinness Draught Stout
2 pounds ground beef

1 clove garlic
2 medium-sized carrots
1 large onion
2 1/2 tablespoons salted butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 heavy dashes of Worcestershire sauce
1 cup frozen peas
1 teaspoon paprika or cayenne pepper

Hot sauce (optional)

Prep Work: Chop carrots, onions and garlic. Peel potatoes and cut into 1 to ¾ inch cubes.

Begin by boiling the potatoes with generous dashes of salt while you warm a skillet on another burner to cook the beef. While the potatoes cook, add a small amount of olive oil to the pan and the chopped garlic. When the garlic begins to smell fragrant, add the ground beef and cook for a few minutes. As the meat begins to turn brown, add salt, pepper and a third of the Guinness bottle. If so desired, add a dash or two of hot sauce as well. Once the beef is browned throughout, add carrots and onions, and stir often.

Keep an eye on the potatoes; when they’re tender, drain the water. Add milk and sour cream, and mash until mostly smooth. Once they’re at the desired consistency, cover and set aside.

To make the gravy, use another burner on medium heat and melt butter in a small skillet. Once the butter is liquefied, add flour, chicken broth, salt and pepper, and the remaining 2/3 of the Guinness. As you’re making the gravy, preheat the broiler on a high setting. Stir constantly so that the gravy does not melt, and no lumps of flour remain. Let it thicken as it cooks for a minute or two, and then add to the meat and vegetables. Lastly, add peas to the meat.

Take out a rectangular baking pan with 3 to 4 inch sides, and fill with meat and vegetables. Cover bottom of pan evenly and then spread potatoes over the meat, forming a top layer. Sprinkle fine layer of paprika or cayenne over the top.

Place the pan away from the heat source in the broiler and cook until top layer of potatoes are browned.