This month Mike Lynch of Burgers and Brews hosts The Session #46 and asks us to write about “An Unexpected Discovery.”
In the summer for 1995, Bozeman, Montana, was more of a beer destination than Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. Few had heard of Dogfish Head (located in Rehoboth Beach) or knew the face of Sam Calagione. Spanish Peaks Brewing distributed its beer nationally and Chugwater, the dog on the label, was sort of a star. Ribbons he had won in various competitions covered the walls at the Italian Cafe, the dining room attached to the brewery.
So we found ourselves at a stop light in downtown Bozeman. We didn’t have a GPS, let alone a phone app that would connect us to The Beer Mapping Project. But Daria was pretty sure we were supposed to turn right in a couple of blocks when, coming out of the light, I took a hard right to get into the parking lot we’d just be sitting in front of.
“What are you doing?”
“Look up.”
Above us the sign said Cat’s Paw Casino and advertised “microbrews,” guaranteeing 20 beers on tap at $1 each. Sure enough, they had beers from small breweries in Washington and Oregon, as well as California, and several imports. Each 10-ounce pour cost a buck.
If you were compiling a guide to places to find flavorful beer, as we were at the time, this was quite a discovery. As a beer drinking experience not quite so exciting. It was pretty much a dive bar (still is, apparently), with some pool tables and gambling machines in the adjoining room.
So a great and surprising experience? A few notes from a trip to California in December of 1994.
We were winding out way north on route 9 from Santa Cruz — and we do mean winding. This is not a road to attempt after a barley wine tasting. The late-afternoon fog hanging in the redwoods was delightful, but by the time we were north of Boulder Creek darkness had set in. We spotted a neon sign as we came around another turn, read the word “Bass” as we headed by and before we were around two more turns had doubled back.
We had found the White Cockade, a Scottish pub set in a log cabin. The fireplace crackled as Big Band music played softfly. Couples sat snugly at dimly lit small tables in a room paneled in knotty pine. A cat named Moggy wandered around. Sitting at the small bar, which was bedecked with World War II memorabilia, we were please to see Fuller’s London Price on tap. But our attention was quickly diverted by two other beer we had had on this trip. Double Dragon and Fuller’s ESB on nitrogen dispense. “Who’d have thought,” Daria said, “that we could got into a pub that had London Pride on tap and find two beers we wanted more than that.”
Sitting next to us was a local who watched with some interest as we ordered. he asked what we thought of British ales. He wanted to try them, but already knew California ales were too bitter for his taste. Since we had been to the altar of Cascade hops — Sierra Nevada’s taproom — just the day before, to hear a Californian talk this was as a reality check.
Sometimes the menu included fresh salmon, landed by the landlord from his own fishing boat, but last we heard the White Cockade was closed.
Probably ’94 or ’95 for me too. I had driven 8 hours to the middle of Michigan’s Northern peninsula for Memorial Day weekend. Stopped at the family house long enough to have breakfast with my parents and aunt & uncle and continued north to Houghton, MI — practically land’s end.
Some friends and I were planning a trip to Isle Royale the next year and I’d promised to gather some info at Houghton’s IR info HQ. After gathering the info, I went for a walk and decided to have some lunch at The Library — a very small pizza and sandwich joint in this college town (since having burned and resurrected as a larger restaurant and brewpub… but don’t get ahead of me).
The Library was about the size of 4 dorm rooms with a 4 seat bar at the back — a beacon to my weary soul. I fully expected the usual U.P. beer list for the day; Miller, Bud, maybe Labatt or Molsen, but I stepped up anyway — and there it was, a shining star in the wilderness: a Bell’s 2 Hearted tap handle calling my name!
Might not seem out of the ordinary today, but in those days there was very little in the way of good beer that far out of “civilization.” And now, as mentioned, the Library is its own brewery — but they still keep Bell’s on tap as a guest beer.
Franconia, der Oberpfalz and pretty much any part of Belgium – all gold mines of great beer finds.
Mike — “unexpected” in Franconia? I expected nothing but good beer when I made my pilgrimage to Bamberg!
Steve – You took the words right out of my mouth. I recently had similar conversations with two American commercial brewers. The Germans start from a different standard.
Well, if “Unexpected Discovery” is limited to finding “good beer” in an unexpected place, then you have a point. However, at least for me, there is a lot more to it than simply what is in the glass (much as the first poster in this discussion wrote).
And, Steve, I fully agree that Bamberg is a wonderful beer town, but, if you visit the small villages and countryside in that region of Germany, perhaps what I wrote would make more sense to you.
Mike — Wandered myself through Bavaria, Austria, and Switzerland (small and large town alike) and the only time I was surprised was when the beer was mediocre — and even those few beers were more enjoyable than many you get over here (U.S.A., in my case).
But yes, much of the atmosphere made things even more enjoyable; the crew at a small pub in Bamberg who served us Kellerbier and a fantastic cheese & sausage plate, talking about the U.S. and Germany well into the night. The rest stop 1/2 way down the Eiger slope that served a great glass of Rugenbräu with a spectacular view of the Munch and the Eiger. The wonderfully old-fashioned Bierhall in Bregenz pouring fresh Huber (no, the other one).
All of this I was fully expecting and anticipating, I’d have been disappointed if it hadn’t been as memorable!
Steve, it sounds like you really had a wonderful time on these trips, as I have. Even though I travel to Germany quite often (I’m going again this Saturday, for example), I like being surprised. That is, to me, one of the most enjoyable things about travelling. Perhaps because of this, my expectations are rather vague. I don’t go with pictures in my mind of what I will see or experience, for example. When I went to a butcher shop/cafe in Hagenbach, for example, I expected good food, but it turned out to be so much more.
In fact, I would say that in most of my favourite recalled beer experiences, the beer played a secondary role – the environment were I drank it turned out to be the star.
My own post made me “homesick” for traveling through the Alps, but now you’re just making me jealous Mike! You’re a lucky man to be able to get to Germany so often.
My expectations may have been set high due to anticipation and the fact that my trips were arranged to experience beer and culture, but they sure were met at every turn!