A Cicerone In Times Of Corona

Craft beer is in crisis. As I write, the entire world seems on verge of collapse due to Corona (the pandemic and the beer) but this particular world is my own.

Even before Coronavirus, craft beer had accelerated to more breweries in The United States than ever before, all vying for the same customer while resorting to beer that barely resembles beer anymore – milkshake IPA, pastry stout, beverages so thick and adjunct laden they’re indistinguishable from one another. Meanwhile, calorie and carb counting displaced the king of beers in America, pivoting large corporations to spiked seltzer with goal of reclaiming lost ground from small, independent brewers now fighting for their livelihood. For any sales dogs in this industry relying on old tricks, no beer math or formula will save them, they’re already dead.

I want to live. Craft beer came to me when I had no direction, no purpose otherwise. Armed with nothing but a liberal arts degree to face the world, I quickly found my way to the bottom of a bottle which thankfully was ‘microbrewed’ at the time. I believed craft beer could go anywhere, from the heavy metal club at end of the line in Greenpoint to BYOB at Eleven Madison Park (which I did).

There’s no better way to learn New York City than through its drinking culture and the beer lines run deep. Sure, I’ve met some frat boys and sorority sisters that fell into craft beer still drinking crap beer, but overall, it’s a community of misfits that could not, would not work anywhere else. And perhaps most important, it gave me the caliber of leather jacket normally reserved for bikers. No matter what happened to me, or if I ever lost my second skin, I knew that jacket would be waiting at the bar. Thanks, Dave.

That was New York, welcome to San Francisco. There’s a perpetual cloud hanging over this city that makes one want to peer into the depths of dark beer, or given the proximity to Sonoma and Napa, maybe pinot noir. Craft beer inspired me to continue my education and The Cicerone Certification Program was established to bring law and order to the industry, putting an end to self-proclaimed beer sommeliers. It parallels the same levels of certification as The Court of Master Sommeliers – an introductory exam followed by Certified, Advanced and Master.

I am nestled at the Advanced level, convinced Certified is the benchmark for working in beer but uncertain how a Master Cicerone translates to a pre and post-Coronavirus economy. Cicerone literally means to guide while Sommelier originally designated a butler, and though one could argue the distinction still rings true, the career path fostered by the Sommelier program for its graduates led me to their introductory course. Here’s what I learned over 20 hours and 20 glasses of wine.

Know your role. The majority of those gathered for the Introductory Sommelier Course worked in hospitality, significantly more than I’ve seen during Cicerone exams where the title becomes a competitive sales tool for business cards. It’s all too rare that a designated Cicerone holds court on a restaurant floor, but here the image of a well dressed, fast talking Somm looms large over the dining table and their two day crash course in history, agriculture as well as speed elocution begins with old world France and ends in New Zealand. I was a stranger in a strange land coming from the beer business, and admittedly, one of the few wearing jeans.

Trust your instincts. All wine tasting is the measure of sugar and acidity, comparable to malt sweetness and hop bitterness in beer. Tannins – compounds found in grape skins, barley husks and hop cones – increase the perception of acidity or bitterness in both beverages. This is the foundation of the Sommelier Deductive Tasting Method, more of an acid trip than magic trick. A recurring theme of the introductory course was if it’s not in the glass, if an aroma or flavor is not there, move on. Words to live by for Cicerones as well, not to mention why Somms motor through first impressions without second guessing themselves. And don’t be fooled, they spit between samples to keep from getting drunk. You paid for this class, if new to wine like myself, it cuts the impression short to spit without accessing your full palate. Drink up.

Don’t fear the terroir. Fermentation is equal parts creation and destruction, the sum of raw materials combined to form a greater whole, and like every act of creation, significant heat is generated in the process. I find it difficult to accept that Somms can smell or taste the terroir, that sense of place or origin associated with wine, all the way down to vineyard roots. Hops are an agricultural product like grapes; to visit a hop field, try an IPA where hops are added or ‘dry hopped’ after fermentation within 30 days of packaging. There is no equivalent to dry hopping in vinification, though the alchemy of barrel aging allows wine to absorb additional tannins from the wood while flavors meld and mellow during their stay. It’s a successful marketing campaign that places the château above grape varieties on wine labels but the real talent of winemakers and brewers is mastery over time and temperature, not real estate.

Otherwise, Somms thirst for flavors in wine that would normally be considered off-flavors in beer, like diacetyl (butterscotch) and yeast autolysis (soy sauce), simply to distinguish one fermented grape from another. I didn’t finish the Sommelier Introductory Course with a better understanding of what wines I enjoy and why but the gateway seems to be bold, fruit forward vintages from the west coast, just as Cascade hops first led me to American Pale Ale and IPA. There is a strong sense of mentorship from The Court of Master Sommeliers with comparatively little outreach from The Cicerone Program among its ranks, yet a lifetime to learn from both, one course of study informing the other which enabled me to pass the Somm introductory exam.

Cicerones and Sommeliers may have their differences but the two share more than ever in times of Corona. I hope traditional distribution and taxation laws fall, allowing both breweries and wineries to deal directly with consumers and ship nationwide as essential businesses. I hope everyone that’s ever asked brewers and winemakers for a donation, from every gala fundraiser to PTA conference, makes the same effort to purchase cans or bottles from their local producers. And above all, I hope small, independent manufacturers continue to create beer and wine that transcend four walls as we shelter in place together. Cheers.

King of The LES

It’s been a while; got myself a beer job! Possible conflict of interest to say exactly who-what-when-where-how but, if you haven’t at least guessed why, you’re not paying attention. Beer and the City will proceed tactfully without caution or perhaps some caution but no tact. Either/or.

I thought about writing a bit on ‘why I returned to New York’ in response to all the ‘why I left New York’ articles recently, but most essays can be summed-up in a single word: ambition. I saw opportunity here unlike anywhere else, exactly why people always have and always will flock to New York City. And it just so happens NYC is experiencing a homebrewer movement on par with what happened in California. We’ve come a long way from this…

In addition to Barrier and SingleCut, nearly a dozen independent breweries have recently opened around NYC. Other Half is doing big IPA’s in Brooklyn, bottle shops like Bierkraft are brewing on site and Grimm Artisanal Ales are nomads based in Gowanus. Gun Hill, the Bronx brewery that makes more than one beer, has a motto close to my heart: ‘all beer is NOT created equal’. Queens is experiencing rapid growth with Big Alice, Transmitter and Rockaway Brewing as well as Finback Brewery in Glendale (feels as far away here as it did in Los Angeles). Flagship Brewing Company is reason to get off the Staten Island Ferry. One thing they all have in common is free reign to experiment with small batches of beer. Clearly, a brewer walks into a bank is no longer the start of a joke here.

There’s more. Although Chelsea Piers brewpub lost their 20 year lease, we have 508 Gastrobrewery and Dirck The Norseman brewing as well as baking on premise. Nobody counts Heartland’s various locations just like nobody counts Kelso Beer, but even Paulaner threw their hat into the ring with a new Brauhaus on Bowery. There’s a choice of homebrew supply shops (unusual for any part of the country) providing various educational outlets. We’re also seeing increased distribution in New York, styles from all over the world vying for a moment on this stage. That’s Metal.

So much beer, such little time. Rest assured that when I’m not writing, I am drinking. My new line of work has taught me there’s much more to Brooklyn but Manhattan—specifically the East Village and Lower East Side–remains my HBO (home beer office, get it?). This neighborhood will survive the rest, and there’s enough bars in every direction to make anyone feel like a king. To be continued.

Barrier Brewing

Now that Blue Point is riding with the Clydesdales, Long Island needs a new brewery. Welcome to Barrier.

While historical records indicate Barrier Brewing was founded in 2009, our story begins at Sixpoint Brewery when some of their Red Hook crew migrated to Oceanside; a picture of Sixpoint circa ’09 hangs in the bathroom. Likewise, both breweries survived Hurricane Sandy to recently be operating at capacity again. Brewer Sean Redmond led our tour and confirmed what Beer and the City has always hoped: Metal is not only a sign of approval when it comes to beer but describes the magic of yeast itself. Sometimes you need Metalheads to eat-up fermentable sugar as quickly as possible, sometimes you let Rastafarians lay back and do their thing. Finally, terms that I can understand. Sean is a man of extremes—he listens to Pantera, reads Ayn Rand—but confesses that even Coldplay has a time and place when it comes to fermentation.

Barrier tends to make what they want, when and how they want it. The five barrel system is an ongoing experiment with all results self-distributed. Style guidelines are challenged in the same spirit as Sixpoint and instead of committing to flagship or seasonal beers, a brewer’s dozen is offered in their taproom at any given moment (along with free popcorn). Most widely recognized is Money IPA; money talks in this town, showcasing qualities of east coast and west. It’s enough hop character to satisfy Californians without scaring New Yorkers. Oil City is an India Black Ale better than your morning coffee. In closing, I’ll leave you with a beer so Metal that it warrants my bullet belt. Meet Morticia, an imperial stout fortified with maple syrup. I’m a sucker for waxed bottles…

There’s no competition in craft beer when the beer is good, so let’s hope for Barrier and Sixpoint collaboration. Or a face-off at the taps.

Throwback Thursday

This is long overdue. I visited Storm King Arts Center last fall and, on the return trip, stopped at Peekskill Brewery. If you’ve never been to Storm King, here’s what to expect:

I was thirsty after battling giants and relieved to find local brewing on the waterfront nearby. Peekskill is a more recent entry and frontrunner for craft beer in New York. There is no rush to grow, but rather establish themselves as a destination upstate. The multi-level brewery houses a taproom on the 1st floor, bistro on 2nd, banquet hall in the works and, dare I speculate, a coolship on top of it all (how cool would that be?). Chief Brewer Jeff O’Neil, the radical behind Flower Power IPA, was lured away from Ithaca Beer Company with a taste for hops and sours; we have so much in common. Brewery Ambassador Mike gave an essentially private tour with half pints of beer for $5 each, which is where I found this gem…

One of many great things about craft beer is that it can’t be outsourced and remains possibly the last sector of American manufacturing to experience positive growth. The necessary tools are often imported from Germany or Western Europe, but Peekskill Brewery went the extra mile and built a brewhouse by way of Portland, OR. That’s Metal. One could argue it’s so craft that they were almost out of beer and food when I arrived on a Sunday but, much like beer itself in New York, I think they’re still deciding who to become. The Eastern Standard IPA was standard, their Simple Sour more simple, the kitchen slow enough that appetizers were served for dessert. That said, I appreciate the vision, not to mention the healthy selection of fellow brewers on tap. In Peekskill’s catalogue, Shotgun Willie IPA drew first, an homage to Willie Nelson. Here’s to a namesake brew for Yngwie Malmsteen next time.

C is for…

Co…Con…Contract brewing. What’s little more than bad language in California is a point of pride around New York City, defended by brewers and drinkers alike. NYC typically cites high cost and demand to justify contracting recipes out to larger breweries, to which I reply Anchor remains the single largest manufacturer in San Francisco and no beer is obligated to meet demand. In fact, the most storied craft breweries are precisely those who don’t cater to demand. If you build it, they will come.

Microbreweries create culture, specific to a time and place; contract brewing is formulation for x beer + y label = z brand. Next time you see heavily marketed beer on the shelves representing your neighborhood as if it’s been there forever, take a moment to read the fine print. The guy in a Yankees hat might say “I like whatever’s good.” Not an opinion. It’s the same as saying you listen to every kind of music when the truth is you listen to nothing at all.

Let’s continue with my favorite analogy—Metal. Guitars inevitably take on qualities and characteristics of their owners, which is why certain instruments remain prized and cherished among musicians. If you tried playing Christian rock on my Gibson SG, she simply wouldn’t allow it. Hard to achieve the same relationship with a rental. The same is true for brewers willing to dial-in and tweak their equipment for the long haul; one can almost always taste the difference between craft beer or contract brew as a result.

From my view, contracting out is only necessary when a producer wants to brew, distribute or profit beyond capacity. I’m surprised the Brewers Association made no stipulation for contract brewing in their definition of Craft Brewer. If there’s an exception, it’s gypsy or tenant brewing; nomads who just can’t be tied down to a single operation. Ideally, they travel the world making brews that highlight different locations, retaining a sense of honesty, authenticity and freedom on par with craft beer.

Gypsy brewing is all about interpretation; Brews Dogs on Esquire TV is probably the most adventurous, while Dogfish Head goes great lengths on Brew Masters to capture recipes far from Delaware, neither abandoning their home breweries. It’s more a way of life in Denmark, TOOL being a tasty example (no relation to the band but you know I want the glass) and, of course, Mikkeller. This brings us to his evil twin brother, Jeppe Jarnit-Bjergso.

Evil Twin is Jeppe’s brand based in Brooklyn, contract brewed primarily in South Carolina and Connecticut, then showcased at his own bar named Torst on the border of Greenpoint. With about 20 draft lines, Torst is a quality spot to do some reflective beer drinking on Friday around 5pm. Bartender Mike was very welcoming and one can build flights of 5oz pours at roughly $4 each. As for the beer, from left to right…

1) Hipster Pale Ale—for obvious reasons, I was hesitant to put this in my body. It proved harmless enough; no nose, bitter without imagination, an amber wave of grain in the finish. Truth is you could interchange Evil Twin’s Hipster Pale Ale, Low Life Pilsner or Bikini Beer Session IPA with PBR and the core audience would never know any difference. Now, canning corn syrup to be sold as Hipster Ale, that’s a game changer.

2) Yang Double IPA—similar hipster recipe, more tropical hop character with the presence of warming alcohol like cherry flavored NyQuil.

3) Lil’ B Imperial Porter—a big standout for Special B malt and highlight of the flight, with notes of raisin, plum, crisp caramel. Like sipping sherry or port when it’s 9 degrees outside (and it was).

4) Yin Imperial Stout—phenolic, smoked malt and esters like diet cola, astringent and dry on the palette; none of the qualities I look for among imperial stouts.

I thought about comparing Evil Twin to Lars Ulrich, the Dane you love to hate, but that’s not fair to Metallica. King Diamond was probably living in Texas by the time Jeppe learned to brew around Copenhagen, still no excuse for the ironic titles and modern art that idiosyncratically align his brand to Brooklyn. Then it hit me, Evil Twin is more like the band Placebo in beer names and spirit; one or two winners but definitely not metal. Hardly the second coming of craft for NYC. Instead, there’s a growing movement within the city that vows to buy-in rather than sell-out. You know SingleCut is among the locals I’ve had worth drinking twice, next up, Barrier Brewing. Stay tuned.

*Author’s note: In January 2019, Jeppe opened an Evil Twin taproom in Queens with brewery to follow, though Mikkeller beat him to Citi Field in March 2018. Sibling rivalry.

Metal Bars

Just as New York City is not a craft beer destination—yet—it ain’t much of a Metal town either. All bands play here but rarely call it home, for similar reasons that microbreweries have struggled in the city since Prohibition: too much hardware, too little practice space at too high of a premium. If you’ve ever carried a heavy rig on the subway or homebrewed, you know exactly what I mean. As a result, we get stripped down forms of music like folk, ‘art rock’, punk, not to mention mass-produced lager. Occasionally the roots of a super group will form in Manhattan, as did the idea of contract brewing. Anthrax, to the best of my knowledge, doesn’t drink. Lou Reed, RIP, deserves mention despite his collaboration with Metallica. One can only imagine Rob Zombie at Parsons and I haven’t completely forgotten about Helmet. Nevertheless, taste in music and beer remains much the same in New York as it did circa 1985. Case in point:

Here we have one of the first guitar straps made by Heavy Leather NYC, based in Greenpoint since 2008. Don’t get me wrong—my own strap along with Tony Iommi’s are products of the same company and most definitely Metal, but they should try partnering with some craft breweries. Imagine slinging an Arrogant Bastard over your shoulder. If the strap above was embossed with Pabst Blue Ribbon, we’d brand this dude a hipster (his shoes are velcro). As it stands, the strings on that Jackson are probably thin as Budweiser anyway.

While in Brooklyn, let’s begin our crawl. There’s a small handful of Metal Bars in NYC, established for disciples of the Trve Music. Duff’s Bar in south Williamsburg, Three of Cups lounge and Otto’s Shrunken Head in the East Village are three examples. Duff’s is all horror show and taxidermy. Jesus Christ competes for wall space with Kerry King. The interior reminds me of 3 Floyds Brewpub with one crucial exception; no beer on tap. Duff’s Bar serves the MillerCoors equivalent of Duff’s Beer.

$1 PBR for happy hour is $1 too much. The bartender was surprised when I asked for something else and their beer menu remains divided between domestic/import with token offerings like Brooklyn and Boston lager. Reminds me why the term ‘craft’ is necessary, despite all the buzz around it. Duff’s may not know the connection between heavy metal and craft beer, the metalheads behind microbrews, or more likely just doesn’t care. This is where you do shots, and I still wonder whether Jack Daniels or Lemmy came first. Rather than wait for a JMZ train, let’s walk the Williamsburg Bridge back to Manhattan.

Give me fuel. We didn’t drink much at Duff’s but why start with an empty stomach? Thankfully, Orchard Street between Stanton and Houston is the most Metal pit stop in the city. Georgia’s Eastside serves heavy metal home cooking and BBQ by the carcass. Cash only, no bathroom, nothing on draft, but you also have the option of Metallica-ritas at Taqueria LES next door. Both are decorated floor to ceiling with band merch. A general word about food in NYC, it sucks. Much like craft beer, most of it’s imported, rarely fresh and always overpriced. Quite unusual to find authentic barbecue or Mexican fare, much less on the same block with the same playlist. Georgia’s and Taqueria LES will nurse, prevent or provoke any hangover. Pick your poison.

Heading up 1st Ave…what Three of Cups has going for it is the element of surprise, like Chris Cornell’s falsetto in Beyond The Wheel (if you don’t think Soundgarden is Metal neither are you). The unassuming Italian restaurant upstairs promises good wine—not metal—while the downstairs is illuminated only by a neon sign marked ‘Lounge’. It’s a descent to where all rock stars go when they die. Three of Cups pours similar beer as Duff’s with the notable exception of Anchor Steam. At $4 a pint, I haven’t been as happy to see this Cali Common since my first time, and how many of us get to enjoy our first time again? Ladies drink free some nights, but it’s dark enough that with the right amount of hair and spandex bartenders probably can’t tell the difference.

Last stop, Otto’s Shrunken Head, 14th St. Not a metal bar per se, more of a rockabilly club from hell. Too bad this place wasn’t around for White Zombie to go inspiration shopping when they lived in Alphabet City. Otto’s has Pabst on tap along with Harpoon IPA and Yuengling; try ordering one in a tiki mug. There’s performance space in the back with customized drumheads, a photo booth where you might prefer to squat rather than sit, and freebasing in the bathroom. I didn’t know what freebasing was either but now is not the time; this is about beer.

Recently deceased Lower East Side rock and roll bars worth salute—Motor City went bankrupt like Detroit, St. Jerome’s has perished but Idle Hands is pairing microbrews with Black Sabbath on Avenue B so there is hope. The number of taps downtown is booming. All these places give me some weird faith in NYC, that you don’t have to be a corporation to survive here. Maybe an industry as unconventional as craft beer can help to reclaim part of this island from bankers and brokers. Less suits and heels, more “dreamers in sneakers” to quote Tom Acitelli’s Audacity of Hops. Or combat boots. \m/

*Author’s note: Three of Cups closed but I have since discovered Saint Vitus Bar and Lucky 13 Saloon. Nuff said.

It Begins

You say you want a revolution? It has begun in the East Village and Lower East Side of Manhattan. Instead of shots fired, car bombs exploding, I decided to draw a map. Five points of craft beer, all within walking distance. Good Beer, Alphabet City Beer Company, Top Hops, Whole Foods Bowery Beer and, now that I’ve moved into the neighborhood, the circle is complete. What else has 5 points in a small, circular radius? A Pentagram. That’s Metal.

Blue Point

*Author’s note: It was announced on 2/5/14 that Blue Point would be sold to AB-InBev. Not metal.

There’s a little brewery making big, bright beers in Blue Point. Among all the jugs in Long Island, here’s a local favorite…

I had my first Toasted Lager in Montauk years ago, prior to visiting CA, and it still holds up. Blue Point’s Vienna-style, flagship brew is more distinct than Brooklyn Lager and when I asked the tour guide why, her answer was simple: “Hops.” She said they make for sweet dreams according to the Egyptians, are first cousins of cannabis and was right on all counts; it’s a fine art making lagers that don’t suck. Blue Point only distributes to 15 states but you can find them on draft at the likes of TGI Fridays in Michigan for that very reason. I didn’t risk angering the natives to get our guide’s take on why east coast brewers tend to play safe and keep it classical. Remember, this is a different island; someone’s bound to get punched for something.

Otherwise, Blue Point is a very ale-centric brewery, with at least half a dozen variations of India Pale Ale on tap during my visit. They ran the gauntlet from pale ale to wet hopped Mosaic IPA and No Apologies, a boozy Double IPA. Hoptical Illusion is available year-round for anyone seeking hoppy beer in New York. Unfortunately, 12 oz bottles are contract brewed upstate by Genesee though Blue Point is honest about the fact, not proud of it, and when you see the size of their facility it’s easier to understand why. Some breweries are clinically sterile environments but it feels like this crew really lives here, along with everyone in the neighborhood. That’s Metal enough.

Blue Point is the story of friends homebrewing when it was still illegal, unsatisfied with beer that was commercially available, peddling their own in a pair of Birkenstocks. The moral? Never underestimate the south shore or hippies who brew more than tea. Happy Halloween.

Q&A with @beerandthecity

Who are you?

It may not look like it, but my beer roots are in Germany.

New York left me in a dry spell last year, drinking nothing but Yuengling and Heineken in bulk from Rite Aide. I moved to Los Angeles trying my luck as an actor, realized how much I hate casinos, and saddled-up to the bar. Fortunately, that bar belonged to The Brewery at Abigaile. The spice of life in their West Coast IPA was just the inspiration I needed to volunteer an extra hand on brew day. Milling grain at sunrise over the Pacific and listening to King Diamond during mash-in was probably the first honest day’s work in my life. I learned that good beer is as simple as quality and quantity ingredients. Instead of chasing auditions, I began to chase beer all over California.

Why are you here?

The west is best but NYC is home. Let’s face it—life is competition but there are few industries where competitors support each other like craft beer. That said, there is a gulf of taste between east coast and west, big as the difference between lagers and ales. California boasts double, triple, dry-hopped everything and created a distinctly American industry in the process. I found a shared vision and spirit from Colorado to the midwest, but New York is comparatively dry.

Beer and the City began as a travel blog to document my time on the road. The purpose is now to answer why NYC beer is rooted in more traditional, conservative recipes and identify local brewers changing the grid and challenging their audience. With IPA as the benchmark, we hope to crown a definitive East Coast India Pale Ale. My goal is to support the critical, cultural rise of microbrew in a macro-city. And, just to keep things interesting, we’ll do it all to a soundtrack of heavy metal.

Metal—what’s that all about?

Metal or not metal, that is the question. Metal is an all encompassing term of approval, like *cute* but so much more hardcore. It’s no secret that I consider hops a magical desert island fruit, but instead of getting stranded in sensory analysis, I keep my rating simple. If a beer is Metal, it holds weight; a solid backbone with distinct voicing overhead. And just like hops, not all metal is bitter without imagination. In my experience, where there is good beer, there is heavy music and a brewmaster that plays guitar. I’m convinced working at a craft brewery is the only practical job for would-be rock stars. That’s Metal.

OK…do you really believe beer is better than sex?

I’m glad you asked. So far, the strongest objection to my blog has been from a 76 year old radical (possibly 77 now), claiming that even the worst sex he ever had was pretty good and certainly better than beer. You’ll be happy to know he’s still virile. Please understand: the tagline might as well be read as Beer is better than Sex [and the City]. As the microbrew movement began to pick-up speed elsewhere in the 90’s, ‘Sex and the City’ submerged New York in wine and cocktail culture. Doubtful that Carrie Bradshaw ever slummed it, but if she did I’m sure it was with the champagne of beers.

Safe to say you’re a beer snob?

Yes. Not all beer is created equal. It’s amusing when commercial brands are praised for consistency even though what they do is consistently bad. So long as PBR is cool, Blue Moon is craft and Sam Adams is anything more than a gateway beer, the term beer snob is necessary.

I’ll probably regret asking, but what’s in all this for you?

I fully believe that craft beer will guide the way and hope to be writing you this time next year from The Great American Beer Festival.

*Author’s note: SJP is now doing Stella Artois commercials, as is The Dude.

SingleCut Beersmiths

Ozzy was born John Michael Osbourne. You know it, I know it, and SingleCut knows it.

Anything ending with -smith in Brooklyn could be immediately discredited, but this is Queens; the edge of Astoria and then some. SingleCut was founded by an advertising executive turned homebrewer who understands that nothing pairs better with craft beer than rock ‘n’ roll. They have a performance space for live music, tap handles shaped like guitar headstocks named for musicians/gear, and one of the few venues in NYC where vinyl doesn’t feel purely ornamental. I asked our tour guide what generally plays overhead, he answered the Rolling Stones and ‘Sympathy For The Devil’ is Metal in its own right. The most iconic singlecut guitar is arguably the Les Paul and SingleCut Beersmiths are on verge of a pact with Gibson to become their house brew.

Here’s to fringe brewing with big ambition. Singlecut is the first micro start-up in Queens since Prohibition with capacity for lager tanks, barrel aging and sour beers. They distribute all their own product locally and it’s just a matter of time before canning lines start to roll. Most important, the Beersmiths are not afraid of hops. As their heavy-metal-fermenter-mascot Rulpsen (umlaut optional) says: if it’s too hoppy, you’re too old. On the board above is a dry-hopped pale lager named Bob and three varying degrees of Billy; an 18-watt session IPA, half-stack hardcore IPA and full-stack imperial double punch in the gut. Finally, a bright and sparkling example of east coast India Pale Ale, the creative use of hops I came to know and love in Cali. Are you excited? So am I. No filter…

Keep it Metal, SingleCut. John Michael would be proud, or pissed, or whatever they say in Birmingham.