It's more of a wine than a beer, angels don't cultivate grains to ferment them but they do collect fruits from the local region. Like wine with a bigger kick, and Dean's really enjoying that, and angels don't usually wear shirts anyway and when someone takes his off he's fine and rolls with it, and then...some images are burned into his brain forever.

"What? What's he saying?"
"He said if you took so much as one drop of my blood for your nefarious sorcery he'll chain you to the canyon walls and feed you your own testicles, you sloppy, over-grown hairy sack of...the best word for that is shit, but it's worse in Enochian. It loses something in the translation."
"Worse?"
"Well, you know when we defecate it's not a question of it being either a solid or a liquid but both coming at once, so he's referring to the -"
"Just - just tell him I get what he's trying to tell me."