Do women just not like the taste of beer? Only about 31 to 35 percent of women drink beer in America, according to 2007 Morgan Stanley stats, and I’ve seen other unattributed numbers that skew lower.

There just isn’t a lot of evidence to answer why. Is there something inherent to a woman’s palate that makes beer taste like death on her tongue? That can’t be it, because there are plenty of female beer aficionados. In fact, brewers like Tonya Cornett of Bend Brewing Co.—who won a gold medal at the 2007 Great American Beer Festival and was the only US representative at the United Kingdom’s International Real Ale Festival—clearly appreciate the libation.

Is it possible, then, that beer is simply more palatable to men initially? That it’s an even more acquired taste for women? Consider the science: Linda Bartoshuk’s ‘90s Yale studies uncovered the phenomenon of “supertasters,” which are exactly as they sound. Many of these abnormally intense tasters are women–about 35 percent of all women compared to 15 percent of men. Though the latest research from the Human Genome Project complicated previously held ideas about taste and flavor (like that each person’s sense of taste can be radically different from another’s, due in part to how their brains interpret a transmitted taste), this idea still seems to hold true.

Ironically, since women seem to be the better tasters, they may have a harder time acclimating to strong hoppiness, an initially foreign and abrasive flavor. Maybe women seem to like maltier beers and men to like hoppy beers because women taste tend to taste (and smell) things so much more intensely [and our tongues have more bitter-interpreting receptors than sweet ones].

But many of life’s joys are acquired ones, so therein, possibly, lies the other end of the problem: beer advertising and marketing is overwhelmingly male-oriented.

And most beer bars are way more male friendly. It’s not that I necessarily consciously object to 20-year-old psychology majors in butt-skimming skirts and pigtails serving me beer. But what does their prevalence say? Boys’ club.

I don’t mind the prevelance of meatheads and beefcakes in beer–as long as they make themselves useful. Reel me in with some shorty-shorted male servers with tight-fitting jerseys—maybe throw in a brawny burlesque show whenever a girl’s birthday or wedding is announced (ring the bell!)—and you’ll have not only me at your great taps lineup, you’ll have all my non-drinking beer friends, too.

There was a beacon in the dark. Namely, Carousel Winery out of Bedford, Indiana. Though I don’t see the full lineup of what we tried on their Web site–such as a lovely, light pinot gris with a hint of acidic sweetness and a quick, elegant finish–there wasn’t a single thing I tried at this station that I didn’t enjoy. Even the slightly awkward anglianico, a somewhat obscure grape that is supposed to be aged for a few years to get over its pubescent awkwardness, was heady, peppery and interesting.

I also really liked Huber’s Orchard & Winery’s vignoles, a semi-dry white with lots of body and a hint of carbonation wanting to come out.

My suggestion for next year: Hike up the price a bit and include food tastings at each station (and sure, leave the vendors–people will still buy). And how about including some wine from other regions? (After all, the Indiana Microbrewers Festival includes breweries from New Orleans’s Abita to New York’s Ommegang, and it still promotes Midwestern beer.) That way, you can actually compare regions and terrior. And isn’t that the point of wine?