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.

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.

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.

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.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

There’s something happening in Munster, IN. Chuck Klosterman wrote ‘Fargo Rock City: A Heavy Metal Odyssey in Rural Nörth Daköta’, which led me to Led Zeppelin’s tabloid biography ‘Hammer of The Gods’, which continually refers to the midwest as the band’s pot of gold. These fans also have beer money and spend it well. Some say California when it comes to craft brewing, others Colorado or Oregon; Three Floyds says Indiana.

The Brothers Floyd made a pact with the devil and brew Liquid Metal. They knock heads with bands like EyeHateGod to create namesake beers such as In The Name of Suffering, a black IPA full of voodoo. The brewpub is littered with Simpsons, horror and Slayer memorabilia, not to mention the best food around. There is an air of *You’re Not Worthy* and if our waiter lived in Brooklyn, I’d want to punch him in the face; since it’s Munster, I made a new friend.

My time was limited so I’ll say this—many brewers pride themselves on defying style guidelines, but it’s much harder to make a traditional recipe your own. That’s exactly what 3 Floyds does by collaborating with metalheads, tattoo parlors and comic illustrators. Zombie Dust is an ‘undead’ pale ale with graphic novel labeling. Dark Lord is an imperial stout with its own pagan holiday, Dark Lord Day being at the top of my beer calendar. Klosterman would be proud.

Bootleggers, The Bruery, Golden Road

One last hurrah before leaving SoCal…who says no good comes from Orange County? Bootlegger’s is probably the best little brewery not commonly known outside California and I once claimed The Bruery was more fun than Disney; I stand by it.

Craft Beer People Are Good People. They’re even better in downtown Fullerton. Bootleggers is True Metal; not only because their logo resembles Slayer and everyone wears Iron Maiden or Arrogant Bastard t-shirts, but they’re also one of the few tasting rooms where mason jars and Jenga are cool. Knuckle Sandwich is an intensely hunted DIPA and other hopheads beat me to it, so I compensated with 5 different IPA’s and 1 pale ale. True to their names, it was a Far Out Lupulin Thrill indeed. The bartender also poured a very generous taste of ’80th Anniversary’ Belgian strong ale. I’ll say it again, craft beer people are good people.

The Bruery got me drunk. Their beers are deceptively strong and hard to define; a Belgian brewery in Placentia, CA. Here we see the American Craft Brewer on proud display:

The brew on your left is Tai Kao, an herbal spiced concoction that I imagine represents gruit from Medieval Asia. Based on my flight of 10, many of their beers are art for art’s sake, but where Famille Rue truly excels are farmhouse saisons and, like the rest of their west coast brethren, hops. Humulus Lager rivals any Double IPA; there’s Metal in that pilsner for sure. Like a young Ronnie James Dio, who knew bottom fermenting yeast could pack such a punch?

40 miles north and 2 hour drive leads to Golden Road Brewing. Very hip. Golden Road reminds me why escape from L.A. is ultimately necessary; traffic cost us a brewery tour, the menu is vegan and everyone is an actor. Our waitress studied improv and the bartender was practicing lines rather than working them. Entertainment people are not good people—neither are vegans—and Franz Ferdinand was playing in the bathroom (not metal). Their Hefe and Kolsch are refreshing and breath some life into an otherwise industrial stretch of Glendale. Unfortunately, Golden Road was the last brewery I visited in California, largely because they were the first to follow me on instagram and twitter; behold the power of social media.

As the road leads back to New York, I find myself asking one very important question courtesy of Sierra Nevada:

Many brewers around NYC specialize in clean, traditional styles, not the hop bombs exploding all over the west coast. My time as a teenager in Germany actually proved similar to recent months in Los Angeles; I visited as a tourist but drank like a local. California taught me that craft beer is happening right now. Microbrews are the exception and the norm, dominating tap handles at fair prices. Beer is paired with food on equal terms and most people have a working knowledge of it. As far as I can tell, craft beer is the only movement worth joining. I’m certain the tide is rising back east…

*Author’s note: Golden Road sold to ABINBEV in September 2015. Not metal.

Stone

This is beer as god intended (or the devil). Before Stone, I didn’t fully understand what people meant by not liking hoppy brews; now I don’t understand why. If you’ve been paying attention since my first post, that fourth thing I value–first and foremost–is my fiancé. I proposed on 11.11.11 and started to notice a bottle on the shelves with the same date. To honor the Polish woman in my life and her lucky number, we embarked upon Stone’s Vertical Epic. Our stories are now intertwined. This was an aggressive, challenging beer unlike anything I’d ever tasted before. Perhaps you’re thinking Stone Brewing Company was founded in 1996, why so late to the party? Perhaps you’re mouthing your words as you read this. Well, I didn’t hear Master Of Puppets start to finish until my mid-twenties either. Some of us are late bloomers, I suppose…

While we’re on the subject, Stone is undeniably Metal. Power Metal. It wasn’t long after 11.11.11 that I began to recognize their logo among other devilry at concerts. Stone’s Gargoyle can compete with anything the merch stand has to offer. Visiting the brewery is like a stadium tour with better beer; how can you resist buying the t-shirt? We all know that Greg Koch first met Steve Wagner by renting rehearsal space to his band. Greg’s even been photographed with a Flying V and writes about heavy metal in their coffee table book on liquid lore, epic recipes and unabashed arrogance: “yes, I think you can wax poetically about metal music, especially with a good beer in hand.” Agreed. And yes, I do have a coffee table; to repeat, I’m engaged.

All signs point to Escondido and the independent republic of Stonelandia. Between the brewery, bistro, gardens, farm, proprietary distribution network and 5 company stores, they are remarkably self-sustained. Mitch Steele’s handiwork will soon be a rite of passage at San Diego airport. I’ve made three distinct pilgrimages to Stone since landing in Los Angeles: the first to visit, the second for strategy on 12.21.12–what better place if the Mayans had it right?–and a third to further my education at Beer University with small batch manager Steve Gonzalez. Both the tour and barrel aging course at Beer U were hosted by Ken Wright, Stone’s Minister of Indoctrination. Ken and I attended the same college (which shall remain nameless) and there were several others touring Stone that day from the same city as said college (which shall also remain nameless). For the first time ever, my liberal arts degree felt relevant.

True to their foundation, the copper and wood of more traditional brewhouses are replaced by steel, iron and stone. As with all microbreweries I’ve visited in California to date, you know their kettles are boiling round the clock. Of course, if the industrial strength of a brewery isn’t your thing, you can always gorge in the gardens and bistro. The menu and scenery complement every style of beer. Perhaps it’s the democratic draft list, or sweet smell of malt and hops in the air, but I’ll overlook the fact that one can also order wine here.

I have played every standard in Stone’s catalogue many times over with a few special releases. The Pale Ale pictured above is my desert island beer. After getting to know the bastard behind the arrogance, I’m proud to say his bark is bad as his bite. Stone Enjoy By 11.09.12 Double IPA is a worthy successor to Pliny (also distributed by Stone in SoCal) and, if 05.17.13 is any indication, getting better still. Since today is my anniversary–depending when you read this–let’s celebrate with a tasting. Call me sentimental, but we have Stone Vertical Epic 11.11.11 Quingenti Millilitre series, aged in white wine barrels. The things we do for love…

11.11.11: Finally a good use for wine barrels. The white grape character mellows the spices and return this Vertical Epic to its Belgian roots. There’s a little something wild on the nose but no rogue yeast in flavor; a potpourri of cinnamon and chili shines through. Sugar and Spice and, of course, Metal. I still have an original bottle of 11.11.11 but, after so many climate changes, it might be more ‘Belgian’ now as well. Not a heavy hop contender from the company that deals in triple digit IBU’s.

What does the future hold for Stone? Quality and Quantity. I predict further expansion east like any great superpower. With Lagunitas setting-up shop in Chicago, Sierra Nevada and New Belgium in North Carolina, New York could use another arrogant bastard. I recently saw an interview with the heads of Shmaltz, Kelso and Bronx Brewing for NYC Beer Week and it was not metal. Granted, they were on Fox news, but all I could think is New York beer needs a personality like Greg Koch. NYC claims to have the best drinking water in the free world, it just lacks proper brewing salts.