Yes, this is mostly marketing, but with a twist that somehow seems worth passing along.

Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant, the mid-Atlantic brewpub chain with locations locations, has come up with an “Economic Stimulus Package” for customers. Five times a week, at least one table of guests will be randomly selected to receive a “bailout,” meaning that Iron Hill will buy them their meal.

“People are watching their wallets now more than ever, so the least we can do is reward a lucky few with a great meal on us,” Kevin Dvies, director of culinary operations, said for a press release. “This is a lighthearted gesture that we hope will make people smile in these trying times.”

At least five times per week, one table will receive, instead of a check, a card announcing that they have been bailed out and that their meal is on the house. All seven Iron Hill locations are participating in the bailout. Some are offering bailouts more frequently than five per week.

Remember that many brewery-restaurants are restaurants first and are feeling the same economic pinch as bars and restaurants across the country. Will this get more customers in the door for Iron Hill? Hard to say, but I expect it will make regulars feel a little better about their “local.”

And it’s much cooler than a free breakfast at Denny’s.

How fast are things changing at Anheuser-Busch now that InBev is in charge?

Bob Lachky, chief creative officer, will retire from the company at the end of this month. Six weeks ago Tony Ponturo quit his job as A-B’s top sports marketing guru. Notice a trend?

Not yet? Try this, although from a business standpoint it’s not as big a deal. While in Germany I heard that Dr. Val Peacock, who knows about as much about hops as anybody in the world, was taking early retirement from A-B.

We all love to complain about the lack of hop character in most A-B beers, but the fact is the company has long been a stickler for hop quality. Way beyond what you can taste in the beer. This has helped subsidize the production of low alpha (high flavor and aroma) hops in areas such as Germany’s Halltertau region. If A-B isn’t paying top dollar for these — and InBev has specialized in avoiding paying top dollar for anything — what will hop growers do? Go out of business or turn to high alpha hops such as Magnum (a great hop, but entirely different than Hallertau Tradition or Mittlefrüh).

Back to the bigger story, which is Lachky. As well as getting credit for the “Whassup?,” “I love you, man” and Budweiser frogs campaigns more recently he was the guy behind “Here’s to Beer.” Talking to him well into one evening a while back — he had a Budweiser in hand — it was dang obvious how important he thinks the last one is.

Is there a common thread that ties together Val Peacock, hops, “Here’s to Beer,” and Bob Lachky? I’d say culture.

Agreed that when ownership changes at any company lots of people retire. Cultures change, sometimes combining the best of the old and the new.

Is that what is going to happen in St. Louis?

(Thanks to Maureen Ogle for spotting this story.)

We’re finishing up a few quick days back at home in New Mexico, dealing with the sort of chores that come up after eight months away, heading out this morning with an eye toward catching Mardi Gras parades in New Orleans before the real craziness begins.

We breathed a sigh of relief when we took some items out of the back of the RV, such as a paper mache plague mask Daria has been taking care of since Venice (yes, it would be perfectly appropriate in NOLA, but it’s not going) and this flip-top bottle. The story:

We’re headed from Nuremberg to Frankfurt on the day before we are to fly home. We’ve decided to revisit Rothenberg, where we spent the first night 15 weeks before. Along the way we pass by Bad Windsheim and decide to drive by the brewery (it’s still pretty early on a Sunday morning).

We see a sign for a “floh markt” and start following the arrows. We’re just window shopping because our bags are full and carrying anything else on would be impossible. Of course we could see something small . . . but it appears there’s nothing at a price we’d want to pay. Not until about the last table we could stop at.

Here’s a lovely flip-top bottle with a hop mural decorating it. I’m confident it will be too expensive to tempt me. I ask. Seven euros. Daria thinks she heard seventy, which seems a little high but almost makes more sense than seven. “Sieben?” I ask. The woman nods. A dilemma. How could I possibly get this home?

The woman apparently thinks I’ve paused as a negotiating tactic. “Sechs,” she says. I guess that closed the deal.

I ended up making room for it in my backpack. What the customs official in Frankfurt had to say when it went through the scanner is another story.