Beer. It’s What’s For Dinner.
Rock Island, IL
The topic of drink, like drink itself, is not without its dangers. No doubt there is a time when it should be treated without smartassery.
This is not that time, but I do allow that seriousness ought sometimes to be brought to bear on almost all objects of consideration, even beer. Scott Russell Sanders, for example, has a fairly sobering piece that, if I remember correctly, begins without any indirection whatsoever: “My father drank.” Such a sentence portends a grim narrative, and what we get, though characteristically thoughtful, elegant, and affectionate, is grim enough to last us a while.
And my wife! Let us not even rehearse the nights she comes home having had to affect charity toward the drunks who end up on the cardiac rehab floor—and she’s more charitable than I by a long shot. On such nights I dare not even idly whistle “From one beer-lover to another, Stroh’s.” To hear the tune issuing from my lips is to smell the beer on them. I know what time it is, and, brother, it ain’t Miller Time. (It’s never Miller time.)
But let us not spoil the summer mood if we can help it. Not today. Let us now praise famous beers—or not so famous beers.
For that is what concerns me here. I grant that there are some very fine beers that also happen to be famous. Jolly good for them.
But what makes beer interesting, here and abroad, is anything but fame. What makes it interesting is the local nature of it.
When I’m in the Lake District, as I often am every other year, hiking with students through Wordsworth and Coleridge country, we drink Cumbrian beers. When I’m away from home but here in the country, I ask for the local stuff.
More and more you can get the local stuff in the local restaurants and bars, and more and more you realize what a vibrant beer culture we’ve got here. It’s true there’s some real local shit out there, and no one should be required to be loyal to shit, local or not, but lots of small places are making some really fine beer.
The Quad Cities responded to my moving here fifteen years ago by doubling the number of breweries in the area. I can’t quite figure out why, but all are thriving. All are within walking distance of my house (my kind of walking: four miles) and all of them brew beers good enough to vacuum my wallet occasionally.
My home state, Michigan, for which I pine, has some very fine small breweries, among them Michigan Brewing Company (their IPA will change your life), Bell’s (not so small now), Arcadia, Dark Horse, Old Hat, and New Holland. I won’t touch anything but the local stuff when I’m there—or anywhere, provided local stuff is available.
Obviously weather and mood will sometimes determine your desired beer style. Who can account himself a man, or herself a woman, and refuse a crisp pungent pilsner on a hot summer day? Show me the scoundrel who can refuse a barley wine and a cigar of a fall evening and I’ll show you someone who thinks Charles Bukowski wrote poetry.
Stouts? Brown Ales? Hast thou not understood the Scriptures? For everything there is a season.
But for my money Housman was right: ale’s the thing. More specifically, India Pale Ale. It’s hard to imagine the Holy Trinity countenancing anything but IPA.
Last week Front Porcher Dalton briefly allowed me the society of her good husband, and in our quickly passing exchange this fine upstanding and erudite man tipped me off to 3floyds Imperial IPA out of Munster, Indiana.
Forget that nonsense about ‘no atheist in a foxhole.’ Show me an atheist who can drink 3floyds IPA and still persist in his error and I’ll show you someone who fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down. This is an IPA. Oh! To live in Munster! Jeremy, are you listening? Greg, my friend? Scott Sanders? This is your state! Indiana!
Think of all the little-known but tremendous beers out there! And then think of the Anheuser-Busch flunkies drinking long-necks and listening to Garth Brooks. Missionaries to Africa? Forget it. We need missionaries in the honky-tonks and neighborhood bars! We need earnest people blitzing them and admonishing the locals to leave off born-on dating and to drink locally.
When I was in college and on choir tour my buddy and I snuck out of our hosts’ house in New York and stumbled upon Genny Cream Ale.
In Louisville I once baptized my tongue with—and amazed others with my charming personality on—the American Pale ale from Bluegrass Brewery.
In Seattle I went ape snake.
Something happened at Jackson Brewing Company in Jackson, Michigan. I’m fairly certain it was preceded by a miserable round of golf.
Big Buck in Gaylord, Michigan, did not disappoint me—even though earlier that day my golf game did.
This is what I’m talking about. Dispersed, small-scale, local beers. This is what we mean by “democratic.” Micro-breweries as model of government. Decentralized, local, small-scale, and kick-ass. Full of happy people, people who are glad enough there’s a beer that made Milwaukee famous but who happen to live in Bad Axe or Soddy Daisy or Willamette or Roanoke or … where do you live, Front Porcher? What’s your local potable?
My fellow localists, lend me your beers. Would you have an active and informed citizenry that knows where it is and cares about its place? Would you have young men and women devoted to something rather than everything (whichi is to say nothing)? Would you meet on that beautiful shore—your own local brewery—in the sweet by and by?
Then see to it that good local beer gets brewed. Love baseball too and poetry and pottery and local music and a blues festival during the dog days of summer. But make or be a part of something worth caring about and defending. Do you live in a noplace? Get the hell out of there and settle in a someplace. Drink beer and belong.
And should your sons or daughters find themselves far from home, pray that their thoughts will turn to neighborhood baseball lots and creekbeds and hamburger stands. Implore heaven that when they come of age they’ll turn to local copper tuns and brassy neighborhood taps. And when they come home at last, when they finally come home where they belong, feed them local beer for dinner.
Nimbus is the Tucson brewery–largest in Arizona actually. I’m particularly fond of their Old Monkeyshine Ale, not especially proud of anything else they brew though.
We also have Gentle Ben’s/Barrio’s (same beer, different restaurants). The beer is good, but probably not the quality of stuff to travel outside Tucson too well. They do brew a surprisingly authentic Hefeweizen, a tasty Copper ale, and decent porters and stouts. (There’s also Thunder Canyon brewery but I’ve yet to taste theirs).
Neither Tucson brewery makes an especially memorable IPA, which is a terrible shame.
—
Tucson is my hometown, in a loose manner of speaking, and I am here again. But I’ve spent the past year out and about, which has meant Mönchshof Kellerbier and Kapuziner Hefe-Weiß in Kulmbach; Great Lakes Burning River Pale Ale in Cleveland; the Triple and the Double Black Reserve Bier and the Crooked Tree IPA from Dark Horse in Marshall; some Two-Hearted Ale further south in Michigan, and the delicious and fruity Sweetwater IPA while in the Southeast.
Peters, if you make your way back to Indiana again — ND conference, alcoholic meandering, because Kauffman convinces you to visit the homeland of Booth Tarkington and Kurt Vonnegut —, I’ll meet you in Munster, which ain’t too far from my mucky haunts. Hell, I’ll drive you across the state (provide you buy the beer) to sample local stuff everywhere we can find it.
This line may be a bit too “statist” for some Porchers, but it’s great line from Belloc’s Essay that helped me to conclude my senior thesis:
“Better beer and a greater choice would result from penalizing the large brewery and with the revenue subsidizing the small one, down to the cottage brewer.”
Gentle Ben’s was always a great place to frequent in the great town of Tucson. I can’t remember, but did The Shanty on 4th avenue also brew its own beer?
If the grace of God, which slowly ferments in our hearts, leads you to visit Mississippi, take the opportunity to quaff from a Southern Pecan, a smooth brown ale made from roasted pecans–pecans which are grown in Southern Mississippi. Southern Pecan is produced by Lazy Magnolia Brewing Company in Kiln, the bootleg capital of Mississippi. You can get this divine ale in a few surrounding states as well, but I purposefully forget which ones.
If you’re in the Twin Cities, Surly is a good local brew. Furious is their IPA, which is quite good. Darkness is a nice stout and their Bender is a fine brown ale.
+AMDG
As a native New Yorker (from one of the good parts, not that nasty overcrowded monstrosity in the southeastern corner), I was very pleased to see you mention Genesee Cream Ale (“Genny Cream Ale”). I grew up watching vast quantities of Genny Cream being consumed, and only wish that I could get more of it now that I am in exile.
You would be an IPA man. Mein Gott! Can we agree on nothing?!?
New Holland, a mere 3 minute walk from my office (O cruel and gracious gods!) does a fine job introducing new brews. Recently they’ve put on tap a very fine belgian white, brightly spiced and cautiously hopped, called BAMB, which is a perfect beer for a summer day. They’ve also introduced a slightly heavier dunkelweiss called Sandcastle. Better in the evening. Should the Trinity drink within itself, I am confident they would choose Dragon’s Milk, a high-gravity tour de force. If any Porchers are in Holland, look me up and we’ll sample together.
Yes, Jeffrey,
I too despise the IPA. Never found one that didn’t make my mouth twist up in a grimace. Perhaps the bitter taste of IPA’s is appropriate for what ales the bitter-tongued. (Although this doesn’t square with my distaste for them.)
At last check their were 56 microbreweries in the fine province of British Columbia. Highlights include:
Granville Island: Cypress Honey Lager / Maple Cream Ale
Shaftebury: Cream Ale
Vancouver Island Breweries: Hermann’s Dark Bavarian Lager
Dead Frog: Amber Honey Brown
Okanagan Springs: Pale Ale / Old English Porter 8.5% / 1516 Bavarian Lager
Good piece Jason. And Hurrah for IPA – particularly of the double and triple varieties!
John – as a western Monroe County native, I get a kick out of my local liquor store here in Texas selling Genny Cream Ale for a premium. It was cheap growing up, and still pretty cheap in the can when I visit. Drinkable if it stays below 40 degrees, but anything warmer starts to turn to piss.
Jason – “Feed them local beer”. I agree. On the flip side, what are we to make of the relationship between the number of commercialized local/craft brewers and the degree of localism among the citizens of that place? I’ve begun to assume the former is a natural outgrowth of the latter. (Interestingly contrasted with wine which seems to bring in all manner of wealthy foreign interests to buy up the land and drive up prices pushing out local folks, only to export the product away from the region).
I was back with family in Charlottesville, VA recently and visited several local brewers within 15 miles of eachother in the hills. A metro area of less than 75,000 with at least three excellent breweries. (also, oddly enough charlottesville is home to several truly local vineyards). But at any rate, it puts Houston, my current place of residence, and a city of nearly 5 million people, to shame, as we have only one local brewer of any scale (St. Arnold’s – a mediocre brewer in my estimation as well).
We just had our first Ferkin Festival, and there are now several pubs promoting small scale producers, but I wouldn’t consider them “commercialized”, since they don’t have distribution in even the biggest liquor outlets here (and trust me – Houston has some of the worlds largest liquor stores), and I don’t even know if they are “local”.
Straub Beer, St. Marys, PA. It’s not an IPA or a Stout. Just good, yellow beer best served cold. Love it. (Actually, we invented born-on dating, and had it WAY before Budweiser did. With no additives or preservatives in the beer, it made sense. I’ve never had one older than a few weeks.)
Although, in terms of localism… hops and barley don’t grow well everywhere, right? It would seem like “localism” would demand that people make due with what they can produce locally, no? Does it count as “Ohio wine” if I have the grapes shipped in from Tuscany? If not, why does it count as “local beer” if I have all the ingredients shipped in from Bavaria or Idaho? If I am eating strawbeery shortcake in Buffalo, NY, in January, does that count as eating local because the ingredients were cut up and assembled there?
I really didn’t care for beer until I had an IPA. If you are ever in Houston stop by St. Arnold’s Brewery.
Does localism then limit Providence in these matter to the rain, sun and air, which are hardly local in origin?
Perhaps its just good old pride ‘o place, focused on the finished good. After all, some of the best margins are on the refined product, right? Seems like a wise idea for that margin to go to local vendors. And – it must be pride of place that drives a man to pay $2-$3 more for his locally craft brewed high calorie six-pack…or the fact that I wouldn’t drink piss even if it was free and good for me.
Nathan,
Those are good points. I am a local booster myself, so much so that I sometimes break the rule posited here about “loyalty to shit.” I’ll tolerate some crappy stuff if it’s locally made, and search for some attribute, any, to justify my prejudice. But what I am trying to tease out is “why.”
So many of the arguments for “buying local” get mixed up and bashed together and otherwise bruised. I think of the people who used to buy American cars, even when their quality plummeted, but stopped when they realized that the cars were “merely” assembled in the US from parts made overseas. The complaint is often that “you can’t even tell what’s made in America anymore.” Then the Japanese started building cars in Tennessee and it got even more mixed up.
There are some real category distinctions at work. None of the “local food” people I know would delight at the prospect of a Pitturgh chef preparing a Chilean sea bass, no matter how clever or expert his preparation of that fish. It simply would not “count.” But they will laud a local brewer as a genius for his efforts with Belgian barley and hops from the Pacific Northwest.
Why? How are these things different?
I am not saying this to be a scold or a purist. Instead, I am trying to investigate my own motivations. And sadly, it ain’t pretty. The more I investigate, the more I seem to myself like some kind of… scold. I will preach to people about buying local beer. But that’s easy, because I like the local beer. I will talk about how strange it is to buy strawberries in January, but I don’t particularly care for strawberries. And then I go buy my Guatemalan chocolate and California wine because I would not like the local version of these things quite as much.
It’s certainly a boon that more and more brewers are CRAFTING quality beers and giving people more choices. I am just wondering whether our definition–mine, yours, the other guys–of what counts as “local” isn’t at least a little bit self serving.
So far, my favorite local Minnesota beers are from the Schell brewery in New Ulm. I love their stout and their “Firebrick,” though I wish I could tell you exactly what the latter was. I’m still learning beer lingo, but I know what I like, and it’s usually the darker stuff. Haven’t tried any IPA, though I wouldn’t turn it down if offered. I used to live in Oregon, and, as far as I know, there are still scads of microbreweries in the state – too many to justify bothering with the always-for-sale stuff that my dad called “panther piss.”
Nathan, part of it has to do with where the money goes. Is your money helping your neighbors pay their mortgages, or it it going to a distant CEO and the shareholders? So even if the ingredients aren’t local, you will be helping your local community in some way. Of course, other micro-brews might be helping some other distant people pay their mortgages, so there is a question whether we owe loyalties to those closet to us, or impartially.
Empedocles,
Certainly true, but that’s only part of it. The local Italian guys who make wine have this debate all the time. Some of them say the only way to make real wine is to import the grapes or juice from Italy. Others go a bit cheaper and buy from California. Still others say the “real” Italian tradition is making due with what you have, and buy their grapes from Erie, arguing that only a true craftsman can make something palatable of them. The hardcore guys make dandelion and blueberry wine.
All of this wine is free to me, of course. No money is changing hands. But the question of “what counts as local” remains.
If I go to Alaska, shoot a moose, fly it home and cook it, does that count as eating local because I worked hard to prepare it? What if I have my grapes flown in from Italy? Trucked in from Erie? My hops from Idaho?
Not a big fan of American IPA’s, although I do like the Brit versions. I’m more partial to Scottish Ales and ESB’s, neither of which U.S. brewers have managed to create really good versions of (at least I haven’t run across any.) The best I’ve found is Boulder’s “Cold Hop,” which they call an English-style IPA, and do as a seasonal. My favorite American brew is probably Anchor Steam.
If you’re ever in Pittsburgh check out East End Brewing. They do an awesome porter (Smokestack), a great stout (called Black Strap–brewed with a touch of molasses, but not especially sweet–more toasty), and a very good, malty IPA called Big Hop.
A friend of mine who visits the U.K. often, always brings back a few bottles from these guys, who are close to where he stays over yon. It’s all good, mate!
http://www.boxsteambrewery.com/home.html
Oh man. I love Scottish Ales. Bellhaven is sublime.
Sam/Empedocles – don’t take me too seriously on the localism issues. I was more poking fun. You can scold away and I wouldn’t take it personally. Craft is craft and good for the soul, as most Porchers would readily agree. Brewing good beer is worth the effort, period. If one is fortunate enough to be blessed with the local provision of all he needs to produce a quality product, all the better. If not, better to go further afield to acquire quality ingredients than to suffer oneself or inflict on others the hell or disrespect of mediocrity…I say.
Nathan,
I agree that craft us really what’s driving this. Which is why I was taken aback by this in the original post:
“What makes [beer] interesting is the local nature of it.”
Like I said, I am not so sure. I clicked on one of the links provided above and found a company that makes an IPA entirely of English ingredients. And another entirely of Belgian ingredients. This is a lot of things, but local it ain’t.
What appears to be favored in these cases is something different… the dread “authenticity.” People in Indiana flying in hops and and barley to make an English beer? Craftsmanship! Someone doing the same with Caribbean fruit to make tropical fruit salad in November? Many call that something different.
I am just wondering when something like that is valued and when something like that is not valued. Especially by people who favor localism of one sort but not another.
I think there is a qualitative difference between chopping up strawberries and brewing beer. And while I do think using local varieties of ingredients is a good thing when and where possible, I still think it’s a little nicer to buy locally brewed beer even with non-local ingredients.
“Nathan Will said:
Oh man. I love Scottish Ales. Bellhaven is sublime.”
Good name. Good beer. Good man.
Carolina Brewing Company, Holly Springs, NC (just outside Raleigh), tour their brewery at 1pm any Saturday and if you don’t get at least 4 free pints of different brews during the tour you are not paying attention. They limit their distribution to 5 NC counties so as not to effect their quality control. Their Carolina Pale Ale is my default beer and their occassional Imperial IPA is simply delectable. When in Raleigh, Durham or Chapel Hill give them a visit.
I believe my posts in this thread alone outnumber my posts in all other FPR threads. But beer is beer, and near and dear to my heart, it appears.
Mark – I appreciate a brewer all the more when he favors quality over windfalls (if the choice must be made). I wonder if most brewers aren’t limited by the cost of distribution.
For those who may be in Charlottesville (I suspect there are at least several Porchers who may have reason to be visiting U. Va), I recommend the Blue Ridge Brewery and Devils Backbone Brewery, both of which are out by Wintergreen, as well as Starr Hill in Crozet. My wife and I take turns when we fly from VA to TX, packing a full case of Starr Hill’s “Love” and “Lucy” brews, in our luggage. Both are excellent in the Texas heat.
For those on the West side of Rochester, NY, I recommend a stop at Rohrbachs in Chili. A German restaurant (excellent German fare), usually brewing 5-6 different varieties.
“Show me the scoundrel who can refuse a barley wine and a cigar of a fall evening and I’ll show you someone who thinks Charles Bukowski wrote poetry.”
That may be the best line I have read all month.
At FPR we tend to always take the glass half empty view of things. (Perhaps because our beer glasses usually are, when we order up another round?)But you make a wonderful point about the vibrancy of local beer culture that has blossomed in the last 20 years. In this day and age of corporate homogenization, us beer drinkers are well and truly blessed! Few countries outside of Belgium have such wonderful variety and local flavor. (I have been fortunate to spend many a business trip in Flanders & Wallonia, sampling the most sublime and obscure farm house ales and Abbey beer’s (blessed be God!) the world has ever known.
Here in Minnesota I would recommend anything by Summit Brewing of good ol’ St. Paul (one of the fist of the Micro brew Pale Ales back in the day) As well as any product of venerable August Schell’s brewing in New Ulm. (Family owned since 1860! Show me another brewery that survived an Indian attack and is still around today)
“I love Scottish Ales. Bellhaven is sublime”
My favorite is MacAndrews but it’s hard to find. Appalachian Brewing (Gettysburg) makes a pretty decent one, as do the John Harvard Brewpubs. Lagunitas “Censored Ale” isn’t billed as a Scottish ale but it has some affinities with one; it’s pretty darn good regardless.
Here in Lawrence, Kansas we have Free State Brewery with my favorite being John Brown Ale, a seasonal. Their unfiltered wheat is ok and there Oatmeal Stout is quite good. We also have 23rd Street Brewery whose environment I like a bit more (you can hear the people your drinking with). Their beers aren’t bad, my favorite there is the Crimson Phog.
We get a variety of local/long distance beers, my favorite being New Belgium Brewery out of Colorado. Up and down their line-up is nothing but fantastic beers. 1554, Abbey and Fat Tire are all top-of-the-list brews for me.
I grew-up in Saco, Maine, which recently got their first brewery, Run of the Mill. English style ales and their Old Tannery Brown Ale was fantastic… I also love me so Gritty’s Best Bitter from Portland’s Old Port. And Allagash makes some great Belgian style beers as well.
I second the recommendation of Lazy Magnolia Southern Pecan.
If ever in Memphis, Ghost River is the place to go. Their Pale is the best I’ve ever had (I served it at my wedding), and their Oatmeal Stout is great as well. They serve at our local minor league ballpark (voted best minor league park in the country last year). BBQ Nachos (a Memphis sports tradition), Ghost River, and a Redbirds game- good stuff.
Maine is blessed with an impressive number of craft brewers (check out the Maine Brewers’ Guild). They range in scale from those barely a step above home brewing (I had a lovely ale crafted by a brewer from Peak’s Island a few months ago at a concert. The brewer’s current aspiration is to be able to regularly provide kegs to local pubs or restaurants.) to outfits with regional distribution (e.g. Geary’s, Shipyard, et al.). While many of them use ingredients “from away” as we say in Maine, their scale of operation, the craft of the brewers, the integrity and relative transparency of their business dealings with the sources of their ingredients, and so on all contribute to my appreciation of them and support of their efforts as part of an overall bent toward localism. My current favorite is Peak Organic, whether their IPA, their Nut Brown Ale, or, on certain occasions, their Espresso Amber Ale (although I tend to dislike beers with added spices and flavoring).
While a certain amount of humor (smartassery even) is displayed in this posting, there is an underlying seriousness to it as well captured in the quote, “Dispersed, small-scale, local beers. This is what we mean by “democratic.” Micro-breweries as model of government. Decentralized, local, small-scale, and kick-ass.” This speaks to my sense that in this age of globalization one of our most potent political tools is how we act as consumers. Do we use price point as our primarily consideration when deciding what and from whom to purchase something? Or do we support businesses whose ethics, locality, or scale are in keeping with our own sense that what is of value is the decentralized, local, and democratic? And if the beer is better than a Coor’s Lite, it can be a glorious thing.
Utica Club, one of the best pilsners out there.
I’m with you Sam and would love to see local breweries source locally.
My favorite IPA: Amica’s in Salida, CO. I don’t think you can get it anywhere but at the brewpub, by the pint or growler.
And yes, the best Imperial IPA is Dreadnaught from 3 Floyds.
Though I envy anyone with a half-decent small brewer within walking distance ( in fact I envy them right under a passing bus) I’m surprised at the absence of FPR home brewers in the thread. Oh the pleasure and the pain of a cellar merrily bubbling, the heavy and heady smell of fermenting malt and spilt samples. Lagers, pilseners, bitter ales, stouts et al. Crates of them conditioning while 6 gallon carbouys froth and bubble nearby. I have possibly overcompensated for the lack of a nearby microbrewer but I luckily count myself a temperate man (in the main).
As for concerns over localism in microbrewing, I would suggest that the sheer volume of high quality beer produced off a ton of malt and an astonishingly small amount of hops (brought from almost any distance), by the skilled hands of your local micro trump a ton of trucked, pre-bottled corporate gnats piss by every measure.
Time to lay down a supercharged English Bitter.
“Do we use price point as our primarily consideration when deciding what and from whom to purchase something?”
I don’t know. DO we?
I know that Sierra Nevada makes an “Estate Ale” that uses only barley and hops grown on the brewery’s own grounds. It’s supposed to be awesome. It’s the absolute holy grail of local beer. Not a bunch of guys from Indiana buying English stuff to make English beer. Ot is a California style beer, made from California ingredients. It tastes like California. It’s INTERESTING.
It costs $10 a bottle.
That makes today Miller time for most of us.
I don’t know about where you live, but the cheapest beers you can buy here are microbrewed.
Which means it’s NEVER Miller time.
Nanobrewed averages less than $0.50c a bottle which means as darkness now falls it’s CELLAR time.
“I don’t know about where you live, but the cheapest beers you can buy here are microbrewed.”
That’s shocking to me. Small operations have no purchasing power, they are labor intensive with a very hig percentage of SKILLED workers, they have no economies of scale on the productions side, the ingredients are more expensive and their market is skewed towards people with higher incomes. All of which explains why Anchor Steam costs more than PBR.
I can generally by a case of corporate beer for something in the $10 to $15 range, less when it’s on sale. I can get a glass of it at the Elks Club for 65 cents.
If your local microbrewery is not charging more than the local Coors Light distributor, good for you. But I would suggest not investing any money in the breweery.
“I don’t know about where you live, but the cheapest beers you can buy here are microbrewed.”
This reeks of subsidy. Must be either Havana or a K St. party.
“This reeks of subsidy. Must be either Havana or a K St. party.”
As I noted above, quoting Belloc, there are worse expenditures of tax proceeds than subsidizing the small brewer.
Tidewater, VA:
St. George Brewery in Hampton, VA has a range of fine brews (esp. their IPA) as does Williamsburg Alewerks. I second your recommendation on Starr Hill.
Nope, I am pretty certain there are no subsidies involved. A six pack of either Bowen Island or Caribou is in the $8.75 range and everything else is over $10. The stuff flies off the shelves. Of course all of it is taxed and sold primarily through government liquor stores. You can buy alcohol elsewhere, but it is waaay more expensive.
I am sure beer is much cheaper in the States, like gasoline, but maybe that’s why we have the healthiest economy in the G8.
Here in Saskatoon we have 2 breweries: Great Western, which is a regional brewery (I don’t really drink their brews, since I’m an ale, stout and porter man), and Paddockwood. The latter has some nice brews – Black Cat for instance, or IPA 606, or London Porter, or, on tap in a few places only, never bottled, chocolate porter – yes, it is actually good. Roasted cocoa beans are added to the brew – I think during malting & roasting.
And on the subject of IPA: I grew up in a teetotaller, fundamentalistiv household – and the first beer that hooked me, in my 20’s, was an IPA (Kilkenny). The first craft brewery product that I came to love was also an IPA – Weasel Pale Ale, from Nottingham Road Brewery, KZN, South Africa.
Wow. Something is amiss. You pay $40 for a case of Busch Light? A parliamentary inquiry is in order.
“I grew up in a teetotaller, fundamentalistiv household – and the first beer that hooked me, in my 20’s, was an IPA (Kilkenny)”
Ditto. I drank wine after age 21 but didn’t have my first beer until I was almost 25: it was either Beck’s Dark or Pilsner Urquell. I remember a friend having both of those at his house at the same time. I still like the latter to this day.
The first beer that I really, really liked (this was in the mid 80’s) was Watney’s Red Barrel, which I don’t think you can get anymore. It was only available on draft at one place that I knew of, and they happened to have great wings too. When they couldn’t get Watney’s anymore they replaced it with Whitbread Ale, then with Double Diamond. I haven’t seen either of those on draft anywhere for a long time.
My favorite brew in the world, bar none, is Fuller’s ESB, with Samuel Smith’s Oatmeal Stout coming in a close second. A couple places around here have Fuller’s on tap, for which I heartily thank ye brewe gods.
Eh, nonsense, For those of you who say it’s NEVER Miller Time, I say, read this:
http://www.theatlantic.com/food/archive/2010/07/lessons-learned-as-new-york-times-food-critic/60647/
Some times, it’s Twnikie time. And Kraft mac and cheese time.
Humanity says so.
Front Porchers, if ever in western PA North Country Brewery in Slippery Rock is the place to go. Pittsburghers who know beer drive the 60 miles. Their Paleo IPA will convert even neocons. Buck Snort Stout is as quaffable as they brag it is. The coolest name is The Embalmer b/c the brew pub used to be a funeral parlor and it’s alcohol content comes in at over 11%.But from lighter summery wheats to heavier browner stouts they feature an octave of delight every night. Live folk/bluegrass every Monday; other local stylings on Tuesdays.
The six miles and more from my Grove City would stretch even Jason’s legs, but it’d be a good excuse to order the sampler. When I first moved here three years ago, regulars could purchase their mug hand-crafted by local potters. But alas the health code inspectors here in the People’s Republic of Pennsylvania put a stop to it. Not unlike when Jayber Crow gets his barber shop “inspected”.
For the sake of localism, NCB does about as consistent a job of it as you can reasonably expect–even going so far as raising their own beef now.
X-man
“Show me the scoundrel who can refuse a barley wine and a cigar of a fall evening and I’ll show you someone who thinks Charles Bukowski wrote poetry.”
I think I have a man-crush. Can I say that here?
Seriously. Wonderful piece. And talk about local: I’m a novice home brewer. And I make far more beer than I can ever drink (and I like to drink). I often give beer away, and lately there has been a good deal of bartering going on in my social circle. For example, I have a friend helping me make an LP cabinet and book shelves in exchange for some scotch ale.
In addition to refining my taste in beer, the practice of home-brewing has facilitated the development of some sorely needed patience. Good beer takes time: the brewing, the fermenting, the aging, the bottling. And one needs to trust the yeast even when you think you’ve ruined 5 gallons of Kolsch. Yeast knows what its doing!
I look forward to brew-days. That there is a rich history of beer making among certain religious orders is no surprise. Brewing is a time-intensive project that involves a good deal of solitude. It’s a perfect craft for the contemplative life.
So far, my favorite local Minnesota beers are from the Schell brewery in New Ulm.
Schell beers are delicious! When I traveled there for work, I had several in a nice little pub called the Lamplighter, which also serves delicious, cheap food. Later that night, I had a few more in an even cooler place, the name of which I have forgotten. The second place was decorated with murals representing each of Switzerland’s cantons, complete with a short description of each. The place looked the way I imagine a little Swiss Bar might, and it was a load of fun.
All of the Michigan brews mentioned are great, and I would add that New Glarus Brewing in southern Wisconsin is also wonderful. Their Lambecs are the best I’ve ever had, and I’m a Lambec guy.
Has no one has seen fit to mention the host of beers and breweries in Oregon and Washington? For shame! We beer snobs of the Pacific Northwest feel we have been slighted.
Actually, I’m quite happy no one has mentioned them because it tells me that I can go almost anywhere in North America and try a local brew. I don’t want to go to North Carolina and drink a Full Sail or a Rogue. I want something local!
I grew up in the town that produces Full Sail, Big Horse, Double Mountain, Elliot Glacier, Henry Weinhards, and more. All of this just down the road from the Bridgeport, McMennamins, Widmer, and a myriad number of other breweries in the Portland, Oregon area. A decade or so ago, I would leave the Pacific Northwest (aka beer heaven), head to Texas, Nebraska, and points beyond and have a very hard time finding truly local beers. It’s so heartening to hear about and taste the local potables. I was traveling in Orlando, Florida recently and alas, I was unable to locate anything close to resembling a local microbrew. If you know of a good microbrew in that area, please let me know!
“This reeks of subsidy. Must be either Havana or a K St. party.”
Hahaha… K-State…
I actually meant K Street. But if K-State works too, then I’m willing to lend it.
Alas, the Jackson Brewing Company closed down a few years ago, right before I moved to town. I learned to drink beer in a Colorado Springs backyard with good friends and a Laughing Lab from Bristol Brewing Company. I’m glad to say it utterly ruined me, leaving me unable to imbibe anything but the finest of brews.
Wonderful piece. I’m in Southwest Asia at the moment and have been jonesing for a good IPA (I prefer Dogfish Head’s 90 minute) for the last 4 months. Three and a half years in Delaware spoiled me.
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