Brewpubs and ‘beer cred’

First, at Hop Talk, Al suggests what he think are 5 essentials for a good brewpub, starting with “An old building, especially with a lot of exposed brick.”

Then at Beervana, Jeff Alworth discusses Beer Cred in Portland, Oregon.

Beer is a working-class beverage. Drinking beer is a working-class activity. Oregon brewers, who until ’99 had Henry’s as an example, got that. In the 80s, as brewpubs started opening up, they had a gritty look. Breweries were located in Portland’s industrial Northwest (part of which has been overtaken by the Pearl). Tap handles for good beer appeared in working-class bars. It is my suspicion that one of the reasons Oregonians took to microbrewed beer was because it retained it’s blue collar ethos.

And he compares that to “boutique breweries” in other parts of the country.

You simply cannot argue with the success of craft beer in Oregon (11% of volume vs. 4% in the rest of the country). In fact, you’ve got to wonder if the rest of us will ever catch up.

My point? I’m not sure I figured one out. I found these two interesting to read in the matter of only a couple of hours. In his, Alworth concludes, “Yes, that was a random posting.”

This must be as well.

You know you’re a beer savant when . . .

These two words either mean something to you or they don’t.

Cask Fred.

Are you smiling or are you looking a little perplexed?

Hair of the Dog will be pouring cask-conditioned Fred on Saturday for FredFest, a Portland, Oregon, mini-festival of sorts that marks the 81st birthday of groundbreaking beer writer Fred Eckhardt.

Hair of the Dog is the host. The entire lineup looks great, but you really only need to known one thing.

Cask Fred.

Is your brewer an artist?

It starts with a quote from Louis Nizer, the famous trial lawyer and author. He said:

“A man who works with his hands is a laborer; a man who works with his hands and his brain is a craftsman; but a man who works with his hands and his brain and his heart is an artist.”

Don Russell paraphrased Nizer to begin a column about making a case for extreme beer. Along the way he wrote:

Beerwise, the most inspired brewers are not just craftsmen, they are artists.

If there is an avant-garde movement among these brewers, then it is extreme beer.

And later, “Session beers, I’m afraid, are Norman Rockwells.” This led to a flurry of discussion at Seen Through a Glass about *xtr*m* beers and session beers, but only a little about brewers as artists.

Brewer at workSo what about that? And who to ask? How about brewers? I printed out part of Russell’s column and took it to the recent Craft Brewers Conference in Austin. I showed it to a dozen brewers along with another old saying that farmers make wine and engineers make beer.

I asked them to choose one of four words to describe themselves: artist, artisan, engineer or farmer.

Eight chose artisan, four chose artist. Most also said it depends on how you read the definitions.

“Since artisan essentially takes in artist, then artisan is appropriate,” said Garrett Oliver of Brooklyn Brewery.

Matt Van Wyk of Flossmoor Station Brewing, a school teacher before he was a brewery, suggested a fifth choice. “Some brewers are just producing a product for profit,” he said. “I lean toward artisan.”

Steve Parkes, the brewer for Otter Creek and Wolaver’s Organic Ales, picked artist, “By this definition.” Parkes is also the owner and lead instructor of the American Brewers Guild. Does that mean he’s in the business of training artists?

“No, artisans. The artistic component needs to come from them,” he said. “I can’t train that. I can give them the tools, but I can’t teach inspiration.”

Tony Simmons (call him an artisan) of Pagosa Springs Brewing told an interesting story. He was in a class at Siebel Institute with a woman who worked at Miller Brewing. Out of curiosity, not intent, he asked her what it would take for him to get a job brewing at Miller.

“You couldn’t,” she told him. “We hire engineers and train them to brew our way.”

John Graham of Church Key Brewing was part of the conversation. “On tours I tell people it is half heart, half science. You have to follow the rules,” he said. “I’m definitely not an engineer.”

We decided we might have to track down a German brewer to find an engineer. But that’s wouldn’t be Eric Toft, a native of Wyoming who now brews at Private Landbrauerei Schönram in Bavaria.

“I got into this because I thought it was artisinal and connected to agriculture,” he said. “You still need to be an engineer to run a brewery.”

Matt Brynildson of Firestone-Walker Brewing made it clear he envies Toft. “I would call myself an artisan, but I totally wish it could be more farmer,” he said nodding toward Toft. “Or to be as connected as he is.”

Toft regularly visits farms where his hops are grown and others that produce barley for his malt. All are less than 200 kilometers from the brewery. He uses a single barley variety – Barke – without regard to yield or how easy it is to grow (always a consideration for malt companies), paying farmers more if necessary to get what he wants (flavor).

Toft was in Austin helping the Association of German Hop-Growers and the Halltertau Hop-Growers Association. They advertise hops as the “spirit of beer,” but I’ve also seen hops referred to as the heart of beer or the soul of beer. Others call malt the soul of beer.

Does your beer even have a soul? Do you care? The answers could be no, and no. That’s fine. But I suspect if you said yes the fact it is brewed by artists or artisans might be as important as the ingredients used.

Cinco de Mayo and beer as art

Miller ChillI’m beginning to realize there is a chance I will break down and try Miller Chill. Got to be curious, right? Check out the number of posts at Beer Therapy. Somebody is feeling the passion.

Saturday is Cinco de Mayo and since I can’t be in San Diego for the Port/Lost Abbey Anniversary Party (you can read brewer Tomme Arthur’s thoughts on the first year here) perhaps I can take the lead from an excellent column by Peter Rowe in The San Diego Union-Tribune about Chil, Mexican micheladas and Mexican beer in general.

Just so you know, you make a michelada by pouring two or three fingers of lime juice into a salt-rimmed glass before blending in a some beer – to your personal taste. Most often it is garnished with lime, but you could use lemon and you might add some hot sauce. Miller Chill is already flavored with lime and salt.

Rowe reveals that Mexican brewers are not fans of michelada.

“They don’t like them,” said Juan Ramon Vera Martinez, public relations coordinator for Cervecer­a Tecate.

There are two schools of thought here, each worth pondering as we approach Cinco de Mayo. One school views brewers as artists. The notion that bartenders can “improve” artworks with a splash or a sprinkle is heresy. It’s like distributing Magic Markers at the Louvre’s entrance. Hey, kids, let’s improve the “Mona Lisa”!

The other school, though, is not alarmed. Why fuss about beer, one of life’s simple pleasures?

Yes, great brewers are master craftsmen. Their work is sublime – but also plentiful. If you “spoil” the occasional liquid masterwork with a shot of citrus juice, don’t worry. Pristine beer is available by the truckload.

Beer as art? Brewers as artists?

That’s a topic for another day (tomorrow) and good enough excuse to hold off buying Miller Chill.

You don’t have to drink that beer ice cold

Coldest beer in town

This month at World of Beer, Stephen Beaumont takes on ice cold beer. I’m not going to repeat what he has written, so please read it first. I just have one more suggestion (OK, I have more but will keep it to one), and although Mr. B. maintains two blogs WoB isn’t one of them. Otherwise I could just leave the idea as a comment.

He writes that “it’s almost impossible in the United States these days to be served a beer in a non-frosted glass” and suggests sending the glass back.

I propose preemptive action. Watch the bartender pour a beer and see if he or she is hauling out iced mugs. If so, there’s a good chance that every clean mug is on ice (yes – I’ve seen bartenders follow a request for a warm mug by pouring beer into a dirty one).

So ask for your beer in a large wine glass (something for Cabarnets or Pinot Noirs). They probably don’t keep those cold. If you are drinking from a bottle you can just pour in part of the beer, allowing it to warm if the bottle’s been on ice.

This isn’t perfect. The glass will treat some beers better than others – but since the ice cold mug was probably a beer unfriendly shaker glass there’s a good chance you’ll be ahead.

And if the wine glasses are frosted? Go to another place to drink.