‘A lot of young people said it was for old people’

Last week, Shine Registry* hosted a “virtual business shower” for Kweza Craft Brewery, which is female led and the first craft brewery in Rwanda. It was a Zoom call, set up for a maximum of 100 participants, and hundreds of others got shut out.

One hundred is not a big number, but this was the first time a Shine shower attracted as large a crowd. It is a reminder of a halo that still hangs around (craft) beer, that there is much interest in the topic of women and beer, and a realization that there’s more to beer than the European tradition that American brewing was built on.

(* Shine Registry hosts profiles of businesses and their founders with wedding registry-style lists of the stuff that they need. Founders ask for support while they are starting their businesses and give their communities an opportunity to show that support in meaningful and substantive ways.)

The presentation has been archived and runs about an hour. Worth your time. The words craft and innovation jump to life when Chiedza Mufunde speaks. She’s so, well, passionate that when she uses the word passion I’m OK with it.

And, given that this is Wednesday, the day I aim to post words related to place I particularly recommend you listen to Apiwe Nxusani-Mawela, starting at the 7 minutes mark, then continuing throughout the discussion.

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That’s place with a capital P

Lilly Pad Hopyard BreweryThe hummingbirds were an unexpected bonus.

There was a time, 25 years ago when we were researching our “Beer Travelers Guide,” we would driven many miles out of our way if we heard about a brewery with a campground and a hopyard. (Sometime, when we can sit down together in a beer garden somewhere, I’ll tell you the story about Gillette, Wyoming, in 1995.)

There are too many breweries to keep track of these days, and we’re out of the guide writing business. We were just citizens on the way to a weekend in and around Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area in northern Tennessee who learned about Lilly Pad Hopyard Brewery because one of the previous guests at the Airbnb where we were staying mentioned it in a review.

It was on the way, and we could grab dinner and beers for later (we were staying about an hour to the north).

Lilly Pad Hopyard Brewery entrance

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Quality of bitterness: as easy as ABC?

Agreeing on a definition for “quality of bitterness” is almost as hard as agreeing on a definition of “craft beer.” But understanding quality of bitterness is essential, and a reason why I like the way Polish homebrewers tweaked their scoresheet for their competitions, awarding six points for bitterness.

The International Bitterness Unit formula was established in the 1960s at a time the composition of hop cones was different than today. And because isomerized alpha acids are primarily responsible for the bitterness in beer, “many brewers consider iso-a-acids to be the only relevant bitter compounds in beer.” Scientists in Germany believe otherwise, maintaining that the majority of what they call “auxiliary bitter compounds” are desirable from a sensory perspective. Sensory panels reported that the harmonious aspect of bitterness increased with the quantity of ABC.1

Basically, “auxiliary bitter compounds” encompass all bitter compounds in hop resins which are transferred into beer and which are not iso-alpha acids. Few of the 8,000-plus brewers in the United States have the equipment needed to measure ABC.

If a brewer does not have that equipment what should they do? A few rules of thumb:

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The Session: Quarantine edition

Being There

I like to watch.

Daria and I spent much of July 3, 1995, at Seaside Heights, N.J., on the beach and on the boardwalk. On the way back to Daria’s mom’s house we stopped at Antones in Cranford. It was (was being the operative term, because it was sold in 2008 and converted into an Irish theme pub) a tavern with a wide range of beer and frequented by people who lived and worked nearby.

The regulars played NTN (trivia) and we once saw a couple in a booth picking out wedding invitations. On this pre-holiday Monday these regulars filled almost every stool at the horseshoe bar. They were watching the 6 o’clock news and the weatherman was warning viewers of the danger of sunburn under clear Fourth of July skies.

“What’s UV-9?” one drinker asked.

“It means I have to wear my sunglasses in here tomorrow,” another answered.

Three years ago, I spent a couple of hours in Riley’s Pub, a St. Louis neighborhood establishment, taking notes for a gathering of The Session hosted by Boak & Bailey, scribbling down observations, speaking nary a word other than to order beer.

It’s what I do. I miss it.

The SessionWe said goodbye to The Session a year ago December, but Alistair Reece has summoned us for a special Quarantine Edition. He poses several questions, including “what has become your new drinking normal?”

Normal, what a concept. We live in Atlanta, Georgia — Georgia undoubtedly being the seven letters your eyes focus on. Things are not going to end well for many people in this state. That doesn’t mean everybody has to act stupidly. Most restaurants and brewery taprooms in Atlanta chose not to reopen at this time. Monday Night Brewing shared the results of a poll that indicated that three quarters of beer drinkers would not consider heading to a taproom before June.

Shadows on a wallFor Daria and I, the old normal on a Friday was to eat and drink at a locally owned restaurant, quite possibly a brewpub or taproom. The last time we did that eight weeks ago we had dinner and beer at Best End Brewing, then stopped at nearby ASW Distillery for an after dinner drink.

The windows there look out on the fire pits at Monday Night Garage, one of two brewery taprooms flanking the distillery. We watched people come and go, some with children who dashed happily about outdoors. We saw animated conversations, although we couldn’t hear what was being said (eavesdropping makes observing better). It was a good normal.

This Friday, as we have every Friday since, we’ll continue to eat local and drink local. I will walk to Fox Bros. Bar-B-Q to pick up dinner and on to Wrecking Bar Brewpub, which recently canned a pilsner made with hops from the Seitz Farm in Germany. We’ll dine on our back deck, listen to music (as well as the occasional train rumbling by, though MARTA is running less often now) and watch the shadows track across the bricks on a neighbor’s house.

The new normal is also a good normal, but I’m ready for another normal. One that looks more like the old normal.