Here’s where to find inspired pints along the San Francisco Peninsula:

Twelvemonth (Burlingame)

Just south of SFO airport, Twelvemonth is an ambitious, plant-based restaurant and bakery complex opened in a previous brewery space by tech executive-turned-chef Bob Trahan. Among its tremendous expanse of taplines, you’ll find the requisite IPAs like Pliny the Elder and other Russian River favorites, easy-drinking lagers from East Brother Beer Co. in Richmond, and non-alcoholic brews from nearby Fort Point Beer Company.

Alpha Acid Brewing Company (Belmont)

In the back of an industrial lot in Belmont’s Harbor Business Center sits Alpha Acid’s brewery. Here, you can test out La Chulita Mexican Lager alongside offerings from the taco trucks that park out front. Since 2014, pints and pinball machines have been bringing drinkers in for May The Haze Be With You, a 7% New England-style IPA with an essence of orange and pine, as well as Murder She Wroatmeal, a rich, dark oatmeal stout with notes of cacao and coconut. If you want to go bigger, there’s also a sought-after barleywine and a selection of barrel-aged beers, including Flying Dutchman, a 10.2% ABV rum barrel aged tropical stout.

Blue Oak Brewing Co. (San Carlos)

Known for its sours, San Carlos’s Blue Oak brewery has a sprawling indoor/outdoor open space where you can try their Cherry Bomb fruited sour with cherry and lime, or the POG is My Copilot, a tropical fusion of passion fruit, orange, and guava. Check out Blue Oak’s food truck calendar beforehand to plot out what you’ll pair with a glass or growler of the super juicy Hello Motueka, an 8+% hazy IPA brewed with a new thiolized yeast that amplifies the fruit flavors.

Ghostwood (Redwood City)

A neighborhood brewpub, Ghostwood wins awards for its lauded light American lager called Extra Crispy, perfect for quaffing while watching sports on the many TVs. The brews pair well with food too; order trays of little smash sliders and share with friends during Wednesday night trivia, or for quick intermittent bites while you play billiards or Mario Kart in the back. If you don’t have time to hang, pick up a 32-ounce crowler of Ghostwood’s crisp Dat Boi Pilsner or its Serial Chiller, a Cold IPA fermented at lower temperatures than traditional IPAs, brewed citrusy and bright thanks to Riwaka, Nelson, and Enigma hops.

Freewheel Brewing (Redwood City)

Park in Marsh Manor Shopping Center for excellent English cask ales at Freewheel Brewing Company, which has been producing exemplary ESBs since 2012. Its flagship Big V Amber, which tastes similar to a brown ale, is made with Maris Otter and hints of roasted barley and wheat for a rich, malty flavor. Nitro pours are part of Freewheel’s British tendencies, winning over many expats looking for smooth, creamy stouts in the States.

BONUS: A few storefronts down is State of Mind Public House and Pizzeria, where Lars Smith not only makes world class pizzas—he’s on the U.S. Pizza Team and has won many international awards—but has a rotating draft list that’s worth a looksee, and probably a pie while you’re at it!

Gourmet Haus Staudt (Redwood City)

A classic Bavarian Bierstube, with a market in front and bottle shop in back, Gourmet Haus Staudt may even be outpacing all of Germany with the amount of Weihenstephaner it serves and sells per capita. Open early and late, it’s no wonder that this is a first and last stop for many seeking the best in both international and domestic craft beers.

The post Beer Beside the Bay: Sipping Along the San Francisco Peninsula appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

In northern Japan, Ainu women scraped soot from earthenware pots used for brewing to create tattoo ink, connecting two art forms via the hearth. Kalinga tattooists in the Philippines used fermented ink made from soot and sugarcane juice to hand-tap tattoos to mark bravery and beauty. The Makushi brewers in Amazonian Guyana applied tattoos as charms to shape the sweetness or “sting” of their fermented beverage. In Hawaii, the practices of tattooing and poi fermentation often parallel each other—another example of how across the world, the shared grammar of transformation is visible on skin and shared in drink.

These examples do not point to a single origin or universal meaning. Instead, they reveal how tattooing and fermentation often inhabit similar ritual and relational domains across global cultures. In examining these cultures, ink and drink operate as technologies of continuity and as ways communities stay in conversation with land, ancestors, and each other.

The Ainu of Northern Japan

The Ainu are an Indigenous people of northern Japan and the Russian Far East, with ancestral homelands in Hokkaidō, Sakhalin, and the Kurii Islands. Hunters, fishers, and foragers, the Ainu communities organize around the hearth as a domestic space and spiritual center, where food is prepared, stories told, and rituals maintained. Due to forced assimilation under Japanese colonial policy in the late 19th century, the Ainu culture, including tattooing, was suppressed by stripping it of its mythological and ethical context.

Among the Ainu, tattooing and fermentation emerge from the same physical and cosmological center: the hearth. Both tattooing and brewing fall under the domain of Kamuy Fuchi, the hearth goddess, who oversaw all domestic labor at the hearth, including cooking, brewing, and women’s rituals. Kamuy Fuchi is often envisioned as an elder woman who dwells in the fire itself.

Historically, Ainu tattooing was a gendered practice performed almost exclusively on women. Traditional tattoos were created by rubbing soot collected from the underside of cooking pots into patterned incisions. Lip tattoos, in particular, marked a girl’s passage into womanhood and were believed to offer protection against malevolent spirits. Using soot from the hearth reinforced the centrality of fire through domestic ritual, binding the tattooed body to the spiritual authority of Kamuy Fuchi.

Fermentation followed a parallel logic. Tonoto, a rice-and-millet beer used in ceremonial gatherings, was prepared exclusively by women. They offered prayers to the kamuy (divine beings of Ainu culture) and remained the sole caretakers of the beverage until it was formally presented to men during rituals. Brewing, like tattooing, was not merely a technical task, but a spiritual responsibility carried out under the watch of the hearth goddess. 

With both practices centering around the hearth, the Ainu practices of both brewing and tattooing are not linked in any mechanical way. Instead, they are bonded by generations of care and attention from women, serving as important extensions of the very fire that animates Ainu life and culture, extending the hearth’s fire, memory, and spirit outward and into the body in multiple ways.

The Kalinga of the Philippines

An Indigenous people of the northern Philippines, the Kalinga live in the rugged Cordillera mountain region of Luzon. Known for their terraced rice agriculture, strong kinship systems, and, historically, headhunting practices tied to warfare and prestige, Kalinga communities have long marked social identity and life transitions on the body itself. Kalinga batok, a hand-tapped tattoo practice, has been passed down through generations.

Batok tattoos are applied by a mambatok, a traditional tattoo practitioner, using rhythmic taps to drive ink into the skin. These tattoos offer a different intersection of ink and fermentation—one embedded not in brewing but in the tattoo pigment itself. Traditional inks combined soot with water or plant-based liquids, and in some regions, sugarcane juice was used as a carrier. Once mixed, the ink was allowed to rest, and if the artisan used sugarcane juice, the mixture would begin to ferment into alcohol. This subtle change impacted the chemical composition of the ink, though adhesion and longevity of tattoo pigment in the skin are a biological and mechanical process.

The ink marks themselves carry deep social meaning. Grace Palicas is one of the few tattoo artists to train under the formidable 117 year-old Wang-od Oggay, a master mambatok of Buscalan. She explains that batok historically signaled bravery for men, “a kind of identity, because back in the day the men were getting tattooed only after an act of bravery,” and beauty for women. “We consider it like jewelry… to make us prettier, usually to find a husband.” 

While batok is not directly tied to brewing and the ink is no longer produced as it was historically, fermented beverages such as tapuy (rice wine) and tubâ (palm wine) have long anchored feasts, healing rites, and social gatherings across the Cordillera. Tattoos and fermented drinks occupy the same ceremonial spaces, making moments of transformation and reinforcing communal belonging. Even when fermentation no longer shapes the ink itself, both practices reflect a shared cultural logic achieved through time, care, and skilled hands.

The Makushi of Guyana

The Makushi are an Indigenous people of the Guiana Shield region of South America, living primarily in the savannas and forests of southern Guyana and neighboring Brazil. For the Makushi, cassava (a starchy tuberous root) is a staple crop and the foundation of daily sustenance, social exchange, and ritual life. From planting to process to brewing and celebration, cassava binds households together through shared labor and flavor. 

At the center of this is parakari, an intricate cassava beer made through dual fermentation with mold and yeast. Brewing is central to ritual life, communal labor, and social cohesion. Anthropologists have observed that participation in creating and drinking parakari is beyond social, representing a part of Makushi identity by engaging in this process of transformation.

Tattooing enters this world through kansku markings, tattoos designed as cooking and brewing charms. These tattoos are no longer widely practiced, having declined under colonial and missionary influence, but were believed to gift a woman with enhanced capacity to produce better fermented foods and drinks. Their motifs symbolized desired qualities of the brew itself with patterns depicting arthropods, such as bees and scorpions, giving sweetness like honey or perhaps a bit of kick, maybe a “sting” (yekî). In fact, in the Makushi tongue, the verb yekî has a double meaning, also referring to being intoxicated with alcohol. 

Parallel traditions among related Cariban-speaking groups across the Guiana Shield strengthen this pattern. For example, Akawaio women also have tattoos regarded as charms to help them make sweet cassava bread and other drinks. Tattooed arms were considered necessary in order to prepare beverages, while a tattooed jaw gave them sweetness. 

The social ritual of enjoying a drink in Makushi culture solidifies this by requiring that the beverage be shown to have been prepared under the right bodily and spiritual conditions. According to cultural tattoo anthropologist Dr. Lars Krutak, “A woman could only pass a drink to a man if her arm were tattooed.” Here, the connection between tattooing and fermentation is overt: body markings are active participants believed to shape the quality of the beverage, moving beyond metaphor to embed cosmology directly into daily acts. 

Indigenous Epistemologies of Transformation & Broader Ritual Intersections

Across the Ainu, Kalinga, and Makushi cultures, tattooing and fermentation do not intersect by accident or coincidence, but appear within the same ritual and relational spaces where identity, responsibility, and transformation are negotiated. Hawaiian epistemology provides a framework for understanding why tattooing and fermentation so often inhabit the same cultural traditions without implying that any two cultures share the same meanings. 

In Hawaii, kākau, a form of hand-tapped tattoo, inscribes identity directly onto the body. As Dr. Lindsay Malu Kido, a scholar of Indigenous body sovereignty, explains, “Our traditions are rooted in the physical expression of our genealogy on our bodies.” Through kākau, the body becomes “a living record of ancestry.” 

At the same time, poi, made from fermented taro (Kalo), expresses kinship with Hāloa, the ancestral figure from whom Native Hawaiians trace their lineage. “In Hawaiian cosmology,” Dr. Kido explains, “kalo is Hāloa, our elder sibling, so feeding ourselves is an act of kinship.” Caring for a living food mirrors caring for family, land, and history.

Seen together, tattoos and fermentation function as relational practices, thus becoming ways of maintaining connection with ancestors, lands, and community, but also as a form of resistance. Per Dr. Kido, “Reviving kākau is an act of decolonization because it reclaims the body as a site of ancestry and authority rather than something controlled by outside moral frameworks.” Instead of a universal explanation, this framework helps clarify why, across cultures, bodies and ferments so often become sites where transformation and identity converge.

Contemporary Echoes

Today, tattoos and fermentation continue to shape identity in new ways. Brewers mark their bodies with hops, yeast cells, and scientific symbols. These are creative echoes rather than continuations of ancestral protocols. However, they still reflect the cultural logic that ink and drink both express a personal relationship with craft and the idea of transformation.

Brewing-related tattoos can also represent loss, growth, memory, and a cosmological connection. Sandra Murphy, head brewer and owner of Murphy’s Law Brewery & Pizzeria in Burleson, Texas, decided to pursue a career as an assistant brewer after her daughter died, and began a tattoo sleeve in her daughter’s memory. 

“It starts at my wrist with the chemical formula for the primary element that makes up an ale yeast wall, then moves to wheat and barley stalks with my daughter’s birth flowers. At my elbow starts a hop vine that wraps up my arm with two butterflies in the mix and ends with a phoenix on my shoulder. There is a blue watercolor behind it all to represent water.”

Murphy says that joining the brewing industry didn’t just help her find her voice and reclaim her strength after a devastating loss: “It saved my life.” For many, finding their own voices can take the shape of tattoos. 

Rachael Engel, brewer at Sound2Summit Brewery in Snohomish, Wash., says that the creativity and expression of identity behind tattooing were also big parts of her journey into the craft brewing industry. “I didn’t get my hop sleeve until after I came out as transgender and realized who I actually was,” says Engel. Like a hop bine, any journey upwards requires knowing where to find the light. 

Practices of Transformation

Across the Ainu, Kalinga, Makushi, and Hawaiian stories, tattooing and fermentation emerge as culturally distinct yet deeply resonant practices of transformation. Whether marking lineage, signaling pride in craft, or navigating personal change, both tattoos and fermentation remain intertwined with the stories people carry into the world. 

Each reshapes material and social worlds by inscribing identity, cultivating relationships, honoring ancestors, and sustaining community. Their intersections are not universal, but arise from shared Indigenous logics of embodied knowledge, ritual labor, and care carried forward through time.

Ink marks the body. 

Fermentation marks the food.

Both leave traces of where we come from and invite us to imagine who we might yet become. 

* * *

The Brewers Association and CraftBeer.com are proud to support content that fosters a more diverse and inclusive craft beer community. This post was selected by the North American Guild of Beer Writers as part of its Diversity in Beer Writing Grant series.

The post Ink & Drink: Uncovering the Historical Bonds of Tattoos and Fermentation Across Cultures appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

It’s also, bafflingly, crowd-free.

“People tend to head straight for the Grand Canyon, or maybe Arches or Zion national parks,” says Adam Kinsey, owner and founder of Grand Junction’s Handlebar Tap House as well as the new WestCo Brewing. The canyon boasts a serenity you simply won’t find at the Grand Canyon, with its steady flow of tourists. Similarly, beer-driven tourists flock to Denver or Fort Collins, leaving Grand Junction virtually untouched. This makes the underrated scene all the more special: an embarrassment of riches for locals, just waiting to be discovered by visitors.

Named for the junction of the Colorado River, which was once called the Grand River, and the Gunnison River, Grand Junction is home to a convergence of varying natural landscapes that together make it unrivaled in natural beauty: the canyon; Rattlesnake Arches, one of the world’s biggest concentrations of natural arches; and Grand Mesa, the largest flat-top mountain in the world. The city’s beer scene is just as rich in variety, built up around the community of adventurers and outdoor enthusiasts who call it home.

After spending two days being spoiled by Grand Junction’s incredible natural splendor as well as its inviting, top-notch beer scene, it’s my duty to urge any beer enthusiast to move this city to the top of their travel lists. Here’s where you’ll want to visit.

Ramblebine Brewing

Opening only as recently as 2020, Ramblebine was still among the first few breweries in town. Founders Eli Gerson and Rob James hit the ground running with a passion reaching across styles—in addition to a crisp lager, a well-balanced West Coast IPA, two hazy IPAs, and a tart blueberry sour, one of Ramblebine’s most popular flagships is God Hammer, a kveik-fermented Norwegian red ale. Taproom guests can also expect to find anything from pub ales to hoppy Pilsners to barrel-aged stouts. There’s such a diversity of nuanced, expertly crafted, delicious beers here, it’s almost a wonder that the taproom remains so laid-back and welcoming. Ramblebine’s team goes above and beyond to introduce guests both new and familiar to different beer styles and help them find their favorites.

Trail Life Brewing

Perhaps no one business can better capture the essence of Grand Junction than Trail Life Brewing, a brewery literally attached to a mountain bike shop. To live in this city is to live for adventure, whether that’s racing through challenging terrain or experimenting with new-to-you beers. The energy is palpable in Trail Life’s taproom, where post-bike-ride and post-hike patrons sip blonde ale, Mexican-style lager, hazy IPA, brown ale, and more—don’t sleep on the Pirates Life Black IPA. There are also guest taps and a full food menu of burgers, sandwiches, rice bowls, and more, such as a hummus and shawarma platter and fries with a flight of sauces.

Handlebar Tap House

Handlebar is also right next to a mountain bike shop—sensing a theme? “I don’t think anyone lives in Grand Junction who isn’t actively involved in at least one outdoor activity,” Kinsey says. Indeed, expect to see a lot of bikes parked outside Handlebar, where riders unwind over a full food menu boasting top-notch burgers and can’t-miss cheese curds, and 24 frequently rotating taps displaying some of the surrounding area’s best beers.

WestCo Brewing

The new kid on Grand Junction’s beer block comes from two local beer scene veterans, Kinsey and head brewer Danny Wilson. The brewery has been intentionally shaped as a community gathering place. Situated right next to the city’s Amphitheater at Las Colonias Park where live music plays, Westco is a low-key and inviting spot for pre- and post-concert hangs as well as family and friend gatherings, solo beers for winding down after a hike, or memorable meals from the kitchen that’s destination-worthy in its own right—think ramen, a Japanese chicken curry twist on poutine, gyoza, katsu fried chicken, smoked trout dip, and Colorado elk sloppy joes. The beer is naturally making its star turn, though, with a focus on flavor-forward but easy-drinking styles such as Mexican-style lager, Japanese-style rice lager, extra pale ale, New England and West Coast IPAs, and fruited sours.

Another Round …

There are still more beer destinations in town not to be missed, such as the local craft beer OG, The Rockslide Brew Pub. Opened in 1994, the convivial spot brews up a tight selection of lagers and ales for all tastes. Base Camp Beer Works offers creative must-tries such as a pineapple and pistachio cream ale, an Irish red ale with cranberry, orange, and cinnamon, and a peppermint bark porter alongside IPAs and Czech-style lagers; and Gemini Beer Company serves up its own IPAs and pale ales alongside gems from other breweries in town for a full Grand Junction ex-beer-ience.

The post Grand Junction: The Intersection of Adventure and Beer appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

My optimism was well-intentioned but naïve. Although I knew that alcohol has caused significant harm in many of Canada’s Indigenous communities, I hadn’t fully understood the deep pain some felt as they saw Indigenous folks embrace craft beer. 

Online, Indigenous users posted anguished criticisms alongside praise for the project. One Anishinaabe artist, Chief Lady Bird, created a beautiful beer label for the campaign, a blackbird with wings spread across a woodland background sprinkled with stars, that prompted waves of both backlash and support. To her credit, she allowed space for hard conversations; she listened to concerns, explained her position, and thanked people for their feedback.

As the controversy continued, both the IBC and Chief Lady Bird acknowledged the difficulty of reconciling alcohol with Canada’s legacy of Indigenous exploitation. But there was no easy resolution. Months later, the IBC dissolved. Silence cloaked the issue again. 

But underneath that silence, Indigenous people are part of this industry. I wanted to hear about this directly from them, in their own words. This is not an opinion piece; this is a spotlight on the experiences, desires, and intentions of some of the Indigenous people shaping Canadian beer today.

A Dark History

Canada’s 1876 Indian Act expanded decades of legislation that supposedly protected Canada’s First Nations by defining “Indian” identity, controlling where they could live, how they should maintain their land, how their government functioned, and more. In reality, these laws were designed to eliminate Indigenous identity and led to what Canada’s 2015 Truth and Reconciliation Commission described as “cultural genocide.” 

Under the Indian Act and similar laws, Canada excluded Indigenous people from the alcohol industry. If it wasn’t non-alcoholic beer—referred to as “Indian Beer” because of these laws—they couldn’t buy it, drink it, or vote on it. Settlers also used alcohol to upend Indigenous trading systems, which contributed to generational alcohol dependency. Rampant abuse of Indigenous peoples by church and government worsened the cycle of dependency, and the long history of Canada’s residential schools and, later, the “Sixties Scoop” inflicted deep psychological wounds. Alcohol offered relief in the face of irreparably fractured families and unchecked sexual exploitation and abuse. According to an article by Anishinaabe professor Niigaan Sinclair, “alcohol has always existed in Indigenous communities—many used forms of it in ceremonies and medicines—but it’s been used a great deal over the past few centuries to cope with trauma.”

Provincial and federal legislative changes between the 1950s and 1980s opened alcohol to Indigenous people, but the damage from decades of exclusion and generations of dependency remains. These days, some Indigenous people support prohibition in the name of harm reduction. Others advocate for self-determination. Still others, despite the painful legacy, find reward in making something from the earth to share with friends and family.

Brewing while Indigenous

This fraught history means that some Indigenous people feel conflicted about brewing, but the lack of debate around alcohol can, in itself, be destructive. However, Indigenous brewers and owners are expanding what craft beer is in Canada. 

It’s important to see Indigenous people brewing. As Melanie MacInnes, a Métis woman and co-owner of Langley, BC’s Locality Brewing, puts it, “Indigenous people are the fabric of the country and should be represented in every business. Cultural diversity in craft beer can only enrich it.”

Like many Indigenous brewery owners, MacInnes hasn’t always defined her business as Indigenous. She describes her anxiety when she had to decide whether to accept a nomination for Best Indigenous-Led Business in the 2022 BC Food & Beverage Awards. The nomination email loomed in her inbox, unanswered.

“Every time I thought about replying I had a visceral response,” MacInnes told me. “It scared the crap out of me. If I said yes to this, it meant that I was saying yes, Locality is owned and led by a Métis woman. That’s a huge responsibility. Was I ready to walk the walk?”

She was, and Locality won. MacInnes always knew that she wanted her family’s land to be used as a place of gathering and growth, and being open about her Métis identity connected her more closely to her business, her community, and her land.

Darian Kovacs of Jelly Digital Marketing, who submitted the nomination, urges Métis people to take pride in their culture. “Many Métis families—including my own—were encouraged to hide or feel shame about their identity,” he says. “[Melanie’s pride in Locality] is a powerful reminder that Métis culture is not only alive but thriving.” 

Brewer Kevin Symington takes pride in his Métis identity. While he’s aware of the stereotypes surrounding Indigenous people and alcohol, he refuses to perpetuate them and rejects their shame. Instead, he focuses on how Indigenous perspectives can enrich the brewing industry. At Fernie Brewing Co., he worked on the DEI committee to establish a relationship between the brewery and local Indigenous groups (the Elk Valley Métis Nation and the Ktunaxa people) to advance truth and reconciliation. From there, he moved to Crannog Ales, a farm brewery that has always prioritized inclusion and justice. “Their core values of respecting the land and [Indigenous] peoples’ history make it a very welcoming and safe space,” says Symington.

Crannog is among many breweries that acknowledge they operate on Indigenous land. However, Quebec’s Kahnawake Brewing Company & Black Bridge Taproom is Canada’s first openly Indigenous-owned craft brewery on Indigenous land. It draws on Indigenous history: the “black bridge” refers to the Saint-Laurent Railway Bridge, built in 1900 by the local Mohawk tribe together with French laborers. One of the Indigenous co-owners, Fred Leblanc, is a former ironworker himself. His simple desire to start a “Native brewery” that would be “not just for Natives but for everyone,” blossomed into an award-winning brewery: in 2024 and 2025, Kahnawake received multiple medals at the Canada Beer Cup. 

Matthew Sabourin, co-owner of La Brasserie Nonsuch Brewing Co. in Winnipeg, has felt overwhelming support for his business, despite early hesitation from the Métis business community. That hesitation disappeared when they saw what Nonsuch offered. “We’re trying to create something very special for our province,” he says. “We want to celebrate moments and experiences, not how many beers we can drink.” For Sabourin, it’s about making the best possible beer and doing so in a way that benefits the community.

Inuit brewer Sarabeth Holden, a children’s book author and co-owner of Red Tape Brewery in Toronto, which specializes in bespoke beers, sometimes feels she isn’t taken seriously in the industry. Occasionally she feels out of place in the local liquor store because she doesn’t fit the “look” of a beer person, or she has to delegate a brewery business task to her husband because a tradesperson is brushing her off. However, she’s felt nothing but support from her family and community. “Even family members who don’t drink are so happy for me,” she says. “They buy my brewery’s merch, they tell me they’re proud of me.” 

Jason Tremblay, a Métis man and head brewer at Toronto’s Two Loons Brewing, also feels his community’s support. However, he recognizes that because he’s white-passing, he hasn’t experienced the discrimination others may face. “There’s privilege there,” he says. “I don’t get the same side-eye that some First Nations brewers I know might receive.”

Tremblay believes that the Indigenous entrepreneurial spirit has tempered some of the negative associations with alcohol. Government theft of Métis lands in the 1870s “forced many of us to hustle in plain sight to get to where we are now,” he says. “Some of that was owning bars and eventually owning breweries. It’s fraught territory for everyone. But that entrepreneurial spirit is important.” Both Tremblay and Sabourin credit the Manitoba Métis Federation for supporting Métis entrepreneurs. Farm Credit Canada is another example of Indigenous-oriented financial infrastructure.

Darnell Stager of Indigenous Tourism BC agrees that supporting Indigenous entrepreneurship is key. As a self-described “urban Indigenous,” he’s seen the ravages of alcohol. However, he views antagonism toward Indigenous brewers as a leftover legacy of economic gatekeeping that ultimately suppresses Indigenous sovereignty. “Ward of the state,” he said to me, eyebrow raised. “That’s what my Indian status card says I am. It shows how much we need self-determination. Indigenous people need to be able to work in any industry they choose.” 

Indigenous Beer?

The question of what makes a beer “Indigenous” has no easy answer. The ingredients? The brewer? The brewery? 

For MacInnes, it’s the ethical use of land and Indigenous involvement in production and sourcing. For Sabourin at Nonsuch, it’s inviting customers to get involved through events such as their Beer Bannock experience, where they can make bannock (a type of unleavened bread that’s an important cultural symbol for many North American Indigenous peoples) with a Nonsuch beer of their choice while learning about Indigenous history, all under the large mural of Louis Riel. Holden of Red Tape incorporates ingredients tied to Indigenous experience. Her amber ale is brewed with orange pekoe tea, a tribute to the time she spends hunting and fishing in the icy north. She also brews a popular Paunnat (the Inuktitut term for dwarf fireweed) Saison, which is only possible when the plant is in season.

Nadine Jopson, a member of the Cree Nation, co-founder of the now-defunct Another Beer Co. (ABC) in BC, and founder of Heartberry Soda, developed the recipe for ABC’s original Askî Oci saison, a beer made with alfalfa and spruce tips. With its ingredients and its Métis-designed label, the beer symbolized Indigenous pride. The label’s words signaled the importance of Indigenous independence around alcohol: “We will not allow the Indian Act…to oppress us—healing the relationship with alcohol as salve begins with us. […] We cheers to the strength of our people; both those who partake and abstain.”

Indigenous Inclusion and Canadian Craft Beer

Good intentions aside, if you’re not Indigenous, you can’t dictate what inclusion looks like.

Inclusion means more Indigenous people are involved in both ownership and production, as Jopson told me. Tremblay agrees: “We need to see more Indigenous folks working throughout the supply chain, from malt warehouses to hop suppliers.” Symington expressed a similar sentiment, stating that Indigenous people “should be visible at all levels [of the beer industry].”

Inez Cook, co-founder of Vancouver’s only Indigenous restaurant, Salmon n’ Bannock, and a member of the Nuxalk Nation, prioritizes using Indigenous suppliers and chose Locality Brewing as her restaurant’s beer partner for that reason. Locality, similarly, supports other Indigenous-owned businesses. 

However, breweries can do more to welcome the Indigenous community. “All businesses should go to the local tribal nation and introduce themselves,” Cook suggests. “Come as a person. Indigenous people do business with people, not with businesses.” And if you’re a brewery owner and haven’t done that, it’s not too late. “You can go, apologize, and start fresh,” Cook says. “Actions and changed behavior create reconciliation.”

Professor Sinclair acknowledges the complexity of Indigenous inclusion in craft beer, yet he knows it must be addressed. “A basic teaching of the Anishinaabe is that we have to figure out a relationship with all things,” he says. “Alcohol has been a violent intrusion into our lives, yet it can have medicinal purposes. Beer comes from natural elements, so we need to figure out a relationship with it.” It’s not about encouraging consumption, but understanding Indigenous sovereignty. “We have to make our own decisions,” he explains. “However, sovereignty doesn’t mean you get to do what you want. It comes with responsibility to avoid causing harm to others.”

Sabourin has a simple outlook on inclusion: “We live by it. Be kind, respectful, open, curious. Give space for folks to share,” he says. “Don’t shy away from the difficult conversations.”  

Break the silence, in other words. Avoid harm. Talk through the hard issues. Treat everyone with kindness. Respect the land. Prioritize people over profits. These were the values that my Indigenous interviewees identified as the path toward a more inclusive beer industry. I hope the craft beer community, currently in its moment of crisis, can slow down enough to listen to these voices. It just may be what saves us.

* * *

The Brewers Association and CraftBeer.com are proud to support content that fosters a more diverse and inclusive craft beer community. This post was selected by the North American Guild of Beer Writers as part of its Diversity in Beer Writing Grant series.

¹ This article uses the Canadian definition of Indigenous, which includes three broad categories: First Nations, Métis, and Inuit.

The post Sovereign Nations: How Canada’s Indigenous Brewers Are Making Craft Beer Their Own  appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

At the moment, I’m backstage, down a long hallway at the building’s industrial rear, behind a nondescript door in a windowless room that more closely resembles a secret hunting lodge. I’m leaning on an actual barrel head, sipping festbier, a golden German lager, by candlelight staring at a taxidermied rattlesnake in the lamplit shadow of a majestic stag’s head.

This is The Bitterroot Club, Grand Fir’s weekly supper club where the brewery’s co-owner, Doug Adams, flashes the culinary skills that made him a Top Chef finalist and semifinalist for the James Beard Rising Star Award. The prix fixe menu features seasonal and locally sourced ingredients paired with the beer crafted by his co-owner and wife.

Whitney (Burnside) Adams is a pedigreed vet of the Northwestern beer scene, including jobs at Portland pillar Upright Brewing, Seattle’s Elysian, and brewmaster at regional powerhouse 10 Barrel Brewing Company. Tonight, I’ll be pairing her aforementioned bready Tamarack Fest festbier with Doug’s Columbia king salmon with lemon, fig, and basil, adding some malty sweetness to the rich, savory fish. Next, a charcoal-grilled porkchop with Nardello peppers and hazelnuts provides a salty smokiness that is cut nicely by a crisp and clean-finishing Bandit Run Mosaic American IPA. And then a light-bodied, citrusy Fresh Hop Strata complements lemon buttermilk pie for dessert.

The Bitterroot Club is certainly a premium attraction (the prepaid reservation is $135 per person), but it’s also an extension of the Adamses’ ethos when they opened Grand Fir in November 2022. Even the regular brewpub menu features artistic twists such as jalapeño Old Bay tartar on a shrimp roll, garlic buffalo sauce on a fried chicken sandwich, and caramelized onions on the wildly popular double-patty Grand Fir Burger. “The word ‘elevated’ has been overused a lot, but it does suit us,” says Whitney. “We wanted people to not only get the experience of my beer, but to use Doug’s background to create an equally good food experience. I felt that if I were to just open up a brewery, I honestly don’t think it would make it. You need a certain angle these days to be successful.”

This, of course, is a common refrain from brewers all over the country, scurrying to attract on-premises patrons in a shrinking marketplace. But for a bona fide brewing badass such as Whitney to say this is more than modesty or even a reflection of the nationwide post-pandemic struggles. Yes, brewers across the country are transforming their spaces, installing dog parks and arcades and pickleball courts to bring people in and maintain a foothold in an increasingly slippery marketplace. But while Portland has certainly not been untouched by economic woes and shifting tastes, in this city and this state, the issue is less that there are fewer beer drinkers than that the drinkers here are more discerning. After all: This is Beervana.

A Love for Beer

“There’s a special relationship between brewers and drinkers in Oregon and Portland in particular,” says Ben Edmunds, brewmaster at Breakside Brewing. “There are consumer expectations. People feel like they can find good beer everywhere here.”

They certainly can. In just two days there, I bounced from world-class brewery to world-class brewery, each with its own distinctive personality. There was the lager-centric Wayfinder slinging the Cold IPAs (brewed with lager yeast) it helped popularize; the heavy metal hazy house of Brujos Brewing; the more experimental hipster hangout Living Häus Beer Company; the standard-setter for the citrusy-piney Northwest-style IPA, Breakside Brewery; Portland-born regional pastry sour powerhouse Great Notion; and longtime local-turned-national stalwart Deschutes, which has recently invested heavily in meticulous NA versions of its core beers like Black Butte Porter and Fresh Squeezed IPA. There are so many more amazing places that I just didn’t have time to make it to.

“People here are passionate, they’re fans. They have a good pulse on what’s happening with each brewery,” says Whitney Adams. “I feel like we have a savvier group of beer drinkers here, too. That’s what holds us together. It’s not just the brewers themselves; it’s the customer base. It’s the love we all share for beer.”

Portland’s long affinity for craft beer makes perfect sense when one considers the proximity of the fields of the Willamette Valley, home to some of the world’s most coveted hops. The valley sits not too far from Yakima, Wash., the birthplace of Bert Grant’s hop-packed American IPA, the beer that still defines craft in the U.S. But according to at least one PDX beer luminary, the city is a haven for independent beermakers as much because of the roots that didn’t grow in its silty clay soil.

“The area is really geographically isolated, so Miller and Budweiser have always had a minor presence up here,” says Van Havig, master brewer at Gigantic Brewing, which he co-founded with Ben Love in 2012. Havig says that because Big Beer never bothered the early brewpubs and local distributors in Portland, they were left to dominate the local market. “No one uses the term ‘craft beer’ or ‘microbrew’ in Portland,” he says. “Here, it’s just beer.”

Havig had attended Portland’s Reed College between 1988 and 1992, witnessing the dawn of brewpub culture in the city before moving to Minneapolis, where, after dropping out of a PhD program in economics, he started brewing commercially himself. (In fact, the term “Beervana” in reference to Portland’s budding brewing culture was first coined by Willamette Week, a local alt-weekly, in 1994.)

Havig returned to PDX in 2000 to head up the city’s Rock Bottom Brewery, an experience he remembers as “intimidating.” “It was like walking into the big leagues,” says Havig. “Portland in the 2000s was the most developed craft market in the country. Where’s the center of the craft beer world? Other places, like Colorado, have relevance. But it’s Portland—it’s always been Portland.”

Expanding Palates

It wasn’t just taprooms and brewpubs. Havig remembers that someone could walk into the most squalid-looking dive bar and find a tap of Pabst Blue Ribbon ironically standing beside five or six local brews. In fact, he remembers six omnipresent labels that spanned the spectrum of styles: Widmer Brothers’ Hefe, Deschutes’ Mirror Pond Pale Ale and Black Butte Porter, Portland Brewing’s MacTarnahan’s Amber Ale, Full Sail Brewing’s Amber Ale, and BridgePort Brewing Co.’s iconic India Pale Ale.             

The latter, a blast of citrus, floral, straw grass, and a touch of pine from five local hop varietals, was introduced in 1996. It quickly became one of the templates for what came to be known as the Northwest-style IPA—a brash, in-your-face hop bomb that, back then, flummoxed outsiders, included Havig’s regional manager.

“It was 2006 or 2007, and we and Seattle were the only Rock Bottoms with an IPA on tap,” he remembers. “The manager was like, ‘This is really aggressive.’ I told him, ‘I understand your concerns, but you need to understand that you are somewhere different now.’”

By the turn of the 2010s, Portland palates had expanded beyond the standard IPA. Havig and Love opened Gigantic in 2012, providing the in-demand hop-forward ales, but also trying to stay slightly ahead of the curve with Belgian ales, lagers, and wild inventions such as a pink beer with Japanese black rice and plums. “You could make anything, and it would sell,” he says. “You could make a smoked hefeweizen and sell 135 barrels. People here were super experimental.”

The way Portlanders drank was shifting, too. Beyond the basic dichotomy of traditional brewpubs and straightforward production breweries, specialized beer bars began popping up, and breweries found they could combine distribution (exceeding 10,000 barrels) with a taproom that could grow the brand while allowing eager patrons to drink from the source. By the mid-2010s, grocery stores and even convenience stores tapped into the zeitgeist.

“There was a real growler phenomenon,” says Edmunds, who moved to Portland in 2007 before helping found Breakside Brewing three years later. “There were dedicated beer shops and every gas station and grocery store put in a draft tower and added a bar. The creation of all that new draft real estate provided a once-in-a-generation opportunity for new and small breweries.”

Meanwhile, Breakside and Gigantic and the slew of new breweries that would emerge over the next 10 years kept pushing experimentation. For tipplers tired of ambers, porters, and even (gasp) maybe a little embittered with NW IPAs, they began barrel-aging programs, launched kettle and pastry sours, and started dry-hopping their IPAs to unlock flavors beyond pine and grapefruit.

The continued innovation has been driven in part by the only trend Portland has seemingly been behind on: Cultivating a brewing family tree. Edmunds says that for the first few decades of Beervana, brewers tended to stay put instead of leaving to start new ones. This gave interlopers like him the opportunity to enter the market with fresh takes. But now, that’s largely changed as longtime Portland brewers such as Whitney Adams have branched off to start their own establishments. “This influx of new blood keeps the scene vibrant,” Edmunds says. “These places like Grand Fir, Great Notion, Ruse, and Living Häus are being opened by people who are experienced and have well-regarded pedigrees from the city and state. And they all make high-quality beer.”

That doesn’t mean Portland isn’t facing its share of challenges. Real estate prices are skyrocketing. Things are tough for any small business. “But our resilience is strong,” says Whitney Adams. “We still support each other. People show up and go out and support these breweries.”

Edmunds says that’s largely because, after three-plus decades, craft beer is engrained in the culture of Portland and Oregon. People here want beer, need beer, and live beer. This is still Beervana. “The wildly different thing about Portland is that no one says, ‘Would you like to get a craft beer with me today?’ You just say, ‘Let’s go get a beer,’ and it’s a craft beer,’” says Havig. “It’s normal; it’s what we drink. The reality is, this is where craft beer won.”

The post Finding Beervana in Portland, Oregon appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

“Allman’s love of southwestern flare is probably why there’s cayenne pepper, as well as garlic and other spices, in the recipe to kick it up,” Archer said about the model that has defined beer cheese in the U.S. for over a century. But nowadays, paradigms are shifting, from the tangy, spicy snack to a new category forged by American farmstead cheesemakers, incorporating beer into their cheeses from the start.

Going Rogue

Many have associated Oregon’s Rogue Ales with Rogue Creamery, though they are related by name only, since the brewery was located only four hours away from the creamery (it announced its closure in November). Every five years or so, Rogue Ales produced an anniversary ale for the cheesemaker, meant to be drunk alongside offerings such as their signature Oregon Blue, the first cave-aged cheese west of the Mississippi, established in 1953. Rogue Creamery produces a Chocolate Stout Cheddar with Hopworks Brewery from Portland, Ore., and has for nearly a decade. This was part of Rogue Creamery’s principle: to pair a certified organic brewery with their organic dairy.

Marguerite Merritt, cheese emissary and brand manager of Rogue Creamery and a certified sommelier, describes their savory, sweet approach to the polarizing blue cheese style as “not overpowering, but bitter and strong.” Though this lends itself to cheese boards and salads, as it’s not as intense as a standard Danish blue, it’s Rogue’s innovations, such as their hazelnut shell-and-alderwood cold-smoked version, that inevitably found them experimenting in the beer cheese category.

For the chocolate stout cheddar, the beer is added to the cheesemaking process just as the whey is beginning to separate from the curd, infusing the milk and curd with a nice balance of flavor and subtle maltiness. The cheese doesn’t wind up tasting exactly like the beer, but what it adds is a sweet, malty, and marbled effect. Their chocolate stout cheese turned out to be a jumping off point for crafting Hopyard, a cheddar style made with fresh, local Northwest-grown hops. The hops are mixed with curds while setting, similar to the chocolate stout cheddar process, but this time without any beer. It has a strong following and is only sold direct to consumers. “The floral bitterness of the hops makes it really fun to pair with an IPA in particular,” Merritt said, reinforcing the citrus, pine, and earthy appeal of a West Coast style, but in cheese form.

A Beer Cheese Journey

Another West Coast dairy gleaned inspiration from its surrounding beer scene as well. Fiscalini has been operating as a dairy farm in Modesto, Calif., since 1914. In 2000, they added a line of farmstead cheeses, mostly cheddars, all made by hand. What sets Fiscalini apart, explains fourth-generation owner Laura Genasci, is that they only use milk produced from their own cows.

Committed to traceability, Fiscalini Craft Beer Cheddar is made with Black Blizzard Imperial Stout from Dust Bowl Brewing, headquartered in Turlock, Calif., only 20 minutes down the road. Genasci went to college with one of the owners of the brewery, whose family is in the dairy industry as well. The beer is roasty, with notes of coffee and chocolate, as is the cheese.

Fiscalini’s beer cheese journey started with Hopscotch, a cheddar made with Scotch ale. Beer was mixed in with the curds before forming them into 40 pound blocks. Pressed overnight—which infuses the beer even further—this process gives the cheese its mottled pattern, and “so you get beer flavor in every single bite,” explains Genasci.

“We think about our beer cheddar as a culinary collaboration where the artistic work of brewmasters and cheesemakers collide,” says Alex Borgo, Fiscalini’s cheesemaker. During the beer brewing process, malted barley is mixed with water and heated to activate the enzymes in the grain. Similarly, during the cheesemaking process, Borgo selects a special starter culture for its microbial enzymes that help activate the separation of curds from whey once rennet is added to the milk.

Many stout beers, such as milk stout, are rich and creamy with a smooth texture, and cheddar cheese is commonly sharp and tangy. “The combination of the two results in a cheese that is rich, tangy, and malty, with a complex flavor—we age our beer cheddar three months, but the more age the cheese gets, the stronger the cheddar and beer flavors become,” says Borgo. Similarly, for special occasions, Rogue squirreled away some two-year reserve for a bigger, more robust flavor, as can be found in a stronger beer.

Collaboration

It’s not all about big beers, though. Giant Food Stores, a Pennsylvania grocery chain, propositioned Caputo Brothers Creamery in Spring Grove, Pa., to stock its shelves with local beer cheeses. Caputo, which started its artisan cheese business in 2011, only made Italian-style cheeses at the time.

Giant noted that they’d already been talking with Tröegs Independent Brewing as a potential partner, says Caputo Brothers’ co-founder, Rynn Caputo. “If you drew a line from Tröegs to us to Giant’s HQ, the dairy farms sat right in the middle—three [Pennsylvania] businesses trying to make something that would have a direct impact in our region.” Though they had sworn to never make a cheddar, Caputo was willing to try a gouda.

Troegenator, a double bock and Tröegs most storied beer, already had a cult following and in the cheese, it brought out a noticeable sweetness and golden color. An entire keg is used for a batch of the cheese, which became Tröegs’ largest social media hit in 2019.

“People started immediately asking for other beer (cheeses),” says Caputo. They went on to make cheese with Tröegs Perpetual IPA and then Mad Elf, an 11% Belgian holiday ale with notes of cherry, cinnamon, and chocolate. After marinating the curd in an amber pool of the beer, a concoction of cocoa, cinnamon, espresso, and more beer is rubbed into the rind. “The end result makes for a cheese that looks like a slice of chocolate cake,” says Caputo.

For the Perpetual beer cheese, Caputo had the idea of dry hopping milk with the same Citra hops that go into the beer, producing an intense hop milk. “It tastes like you’re eating a beer,” said Caputo. After Caputo salt-water brines the cheese for a couple weeks to help form a rind and preserve the cheese itself, the rinds are sprayed with even more Perpetual IPA. All told, Caputo Brothers uses a case of beer for every 80 wheels produced.

The real key to working with beer (and cheese) is pH, a scale that addresses whether something is acid or base; milk’s pH is around 6.4 to 6.8. Too high a pH (past the low 5s), the curds won’t bind together, while too low (below 4), they’ll get rubbery. Caputo has this process down to such a science that she started a side business called Custom Cheesemakers, which makes custom beer cheese for breweries all over the country.

Although Indianapolis cheesemaker Tulip Tree Creamery doesn’t add craft beer to curds, they too customize cheeses by washing the rinds with a combination of bacteria cultures, beer, water, and salt, permeating each wheel with the essence of the chosen brew. Laura Davenport, co-owner and director of education and sales, credits her business partner’s Dutch upbringing for nurturing their washed-rind cheese pursuit.

Every few weeks, in conjunction with the likes of Sun King, Standard Deviant, Big Lug (highlighting their Pirate Cat porter), and Centerpoint (using their black porter), Tulip Tree was making a new hops beer cheese with another local brewery. Two and half gallons of beer was enough for about 20 to 25 wheels of cheese, each weighing approximately four to five pounds for a double cream style, a departure from the harder cheddar styles mentioned above.

“I’m a beer drinker, an IPA fan,” Davenport affirms. “I love 3 Floyds Zombie Dust [from Munster, Ind.] … but for cheese I’m not looking for something super bitter in the 40 to 50 IBU range.” Instead, Davenport suggested 3 Floyds JinxProof Pilsner.

Beer Cheese in the Big City

Just over state lines, Urban Stead, based in downtown Cincinnati, Ohio, opened in 2018. Co-founder Andrea Robbins and her husband are both from Dayton, Ohio, the grandchildren of dairy farmers. They noticed there are fewer than five urban creameries in the United States, a list that includes Perrystead Dairy in north Philadelphia and Beecher’s in Seattle’s Pike Place Market, and they wanted to honor Cincinnati’s deep German roots.

“Early German settlers saw the Erie Canal and likened it to the Rhine River, and we really wanted to make quark, a fresh Eastern European-style farmer’s cheese,” Robbins said. Although Urban Stead has a following for its Street Ched, an award-winning English-style clothbound cheddar, they decided their first foray into a beer cheese would be a Kentucky style.

Braxton Brewing’s Storm Golden Cream Ale, from across the border in Covington, Ky.—near where Robbins’ family had a vacation home where she first fell in love with beer cheese—adds a subtle corn and spicy hop presence to the pale straw-yellow mixture. “It’s kind of the texture of ricotta meets cream cheese—it spreads like pimento, chefs stuff pasta with it, and it’s wonderful for baking.” Robbins even suggests using it in place of mozzarella for a caprese salad or sandwich.

Because it’s a fresh cheese, there’s no time lost to aging. “We get 9,000 pounds of milk a week, and use 1,500 pounds for a batch,” says Robbins. Two to three days later, customers get their beer cheese quickly and it helps balance the cash flow perspective from cheddars and goudas, some of which age for 20 months.

“We serve it with German Swabian-style soft pretzels at the shop,” states Robbins, who suggests the same golden cream ale it’s made with to wash away any spice left on the tongue, a palate cleanser perhaps. But beer isn’t just meant to wash away flavors; in cheese, it can also be something to savor.

The post Beer Cheese Is Having a Moment appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

The stately red fir tree was selected from the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest—the largest National Forest in the lower 48 states—and harvested in late October. It’s now making its way across multiple states before reaching the West Lawn of the U.S. Capitol in late November. The initiative is organized in partnership with the USDA Forest Service and the Society of American Foresters.

Three Beers for the Journey

To mark the occasion, Schussboom brewed up three commemorative beers that pay tribute to Nevada’s natural and cultural heritage. “Abies Magnifica” is a hoppy red ale brewed with foraged red fir tips—yes, named after the actual tree species making the trip. “Comstock Lode,” a hazy IPA, tips its hat to Nevada’s mining past and all that gold and silver pulled from Virginia City. And “Ghost of Christmas Pils,” a Bavarian Pilsner, honors the rowdy spirits of the Wild West.

Taking the Show on the Road

The tree made its first public appearance on October 25 at Mount Rose Ski Tahoe, followed by an after-party at Schussboom Brewing where the commemorative beers were flowing freely.

Now Schussboom is hitting the road with the tree, traveling through Nevada and Arizona to pour the specialty brews at community events along the way. They’ll keep the party going all the way to the Capitol for the tree lighting ceremony in December, where the tree will be decked out with handmade ornaments created by Nevada residents.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to partner with the USDA Forest Service and the Society of American Foresters, represent Nevada across the country, and create Christmas cheer with beer,” said Briana Wagner, President of Schussboom Brewing.

The U.S. Capitol Christmas Tree is a 55-year tradition featuring a tree from one of the nation’s 154 national forests. Public events along the route are free and made possible through sponsorships. For more information, visit USCapitolChristmasTree.com or follow @uscapitolchristmastree on Facebook and Instagram.

The post Schussboom Brewing Joins “The People’s Tree” on a Cross-Country Beer Tour appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

That was the response from one brewer as I gathered information for this story. While Michigan ranks number one in the Great Lakes region and number four nationally for total hop acreage, many of the women driving that success remain behind the scenes. From harvest coordination and greenhouse propagation to research and land stewardship, they’re doing the work, just not always getting the credit.

So, why Michigan?

Hops are a little high maintenance. They like long, sunny days, but not too hot. They insist on cold winter nights so they can enter dormancy. The sweet spot for those conditions is the 45th parallel, which cuts right through Michigan. And while hops love a good drink, they hate wet feet, so well-drained soil is a must. Thankfully, those glaciers that rolled through ages ago left Michigan with just the right dirt for the job.

Grapes grow on vines, but hops grow on bines. Unlike vines, which use tendrils to climb, bines rely on stiff hairs along their stems to wrap clockwise around twine and rise up, often more than 20 feet in a single season.

“They’re strong but delicate,” says Mel Trowbridge of Top Hops Farm in Goodrich, Mich. “You’ve got to handle them with care when they’re young, but later, during harvest, it’s like wrestling a jungle.”

Despite ideal growing conditions, small and independent growers in Michigan face a range of challenges, including climate change, market contraction, labor shortages—and an ongoing lack of visibility for women in the industry.

Guiding the Growth: Erin Lizotte, MSU

Ask anyone involved with Michigan hops, and they’ll tell you that without Michigan State University (MSU), the industry wouldn’t be thriving. And when it comes to pest management, climate shifts, or crop concerns, Erin Lizotte’s name rises to the top.

As MSU’s integrated pest management coordinator and senior statewide educator, Lizotte is one of several experts whom growers across the state can consult for a variety of issues. From diagnosing disease to navigating chemical approvals, the extension team offers timely, research-backed support that hop farmers trust. Their close collaboration with MSU’s Plant and Pest Diagnostics lab helps ensure growers have access to critical testing.

“She’s incredibly knowledgeable and responsive,” one grower said. “I wouldn’t feel confident making some of these decisions without her input.”

Propagating the Future: Julie Kane, Sandy Ridge Farms

Michigan’s hop resurgence also depends on skilled propagators such as Julie Kane. With more than 20 years of experience in the greenhouse industry, Kane had been growing flowering annuals and perennials alongside the Vanden Heuvel family at Sandy Ridge Farms in Zeeland, Mich. Then, around 2008, interest in hops reignited across the state.

“Our greenhouse was the first propagator and grower in Michigan,” Kane says. “As requests for hop plants grew, it became clear someone needed to take the reins…and that someone was me.”

Hops quickly became her specialty. Kane leaned into research and observation to determine how to grow the healthiest plants possible. Soon, she earned a reputation for quality starter stock. But as one of the few women in a male-dominated field, her expertise wasn’t always recognized early on.

“In the beginning, group conversations were sometimes directed around me,” she recalls. “But as our reputation for quality grew, the barriers started to fall away.”

Kane follows a Clean Plant protocol: Starting with a virus-free mother plant from the Clean Plant Network, she ensures strict sanitation of tools, applies preventative fungicide sprays, and schedules yearly testing with MSU to keep their stock clean.

Climate change has made this work even more crucial. Kane points to this past summer’s prolonged heat wave as a clear stressor on her crop.

“It was unusually hot and humid all season,” she says. “Inside the greenhouses, it was easily over 100 degrees. We added extra shade cloth and increased watering and fungicide applications just to keep the plants alive.”

Kane praises MSU researchers for their work getting growers the tools to fight disease. She also sees more women stepping into both growing and brewing roles and describes the greenhouse side of the industry as “very accepting.”

“Being just a small part of bringing the hop industry back to Michigan will be remembered as one of my most fulfilling accomplishments,” she says. “I have growers that stop by just to say hi and give updates. I love the hop plant—it smells amazing. And there’s nothing better after a hot day in the greenhouse than a cold craft beer made with Michigan hops.”

Rooted in Stewardship: Bonnie Steinman & Elizabeth Mullins, Bell’s Brewery

Bonnie Steinman’s hop journey started with a backyard experiment. A longtime horticulturist and pest management pro, she planted a few rhizomes and was hooked. Since then, she’s co-founded Hop Head Farms, worked with MSU researchers, and now serves as land steward at Bell’s Brewery in Comstock. There, she oversees hop yard operations and mentors colleague Elizabeth Mullins, who helps lead harvest and field operations.

Steinman’s role evolved out of a long-standing working relationship with John Mallett, former vice president of operations at Bell’s. “John knew I could grow quality hops. That’s really how it started,” she says. “And he understood the value of investing in local agriculture.”

One early learning experience came under Mallett’s guidance. Instead of rushing the harvest, he told Steinman to trust her senses. “Smell them every day,” he said. “Tell me what you notice.” At first, the Chinook smelled grassy, then fruity, then sticky with resinous oils. That daily practice of rubbing and smelling cones stuck with her and now it’s part of how she teaches others.

Mullins, who has a background in pest management, scouts the yard with Steinman to monitor for threats. “We grow five varieties, and now I can ID them just by looking at the cones,” she says. Together, Steinman and Mullins manage the brewery’s two-and-a-half-acre hop yard and broader sustainability efforts, including an apple orchard, employee garden, butterfly waystation, and a special area of the yard known as The Hideaway. Inspired by Steinman’s visit to TopWire Hop Project in Oregon, The Hideaway is a lush, green gathering space beneath the towering bines.

“It’s like being underwater in a kelp forest,” Steinman says. “I wanted people to see hops the way we do—surrounded by them at their peak.”

For Steinman, a successful harvest isn’t just about logistics; it’s emotional. “I’ve been staring at these plants since April,” she says. “We go through a lot together.” And the real reward is knowing that brewers will make great beer with them. “To sit down and enjoy those beers—that feels like success.”

That passion extends to the community. Steinman and Mullins welcomed members of the Pink Boots Society, a group supporting women and nonbinary professionals in the beverage industry, to step into the Hideaway, right when the hops were most alive.

Built for Quality: Mel Trowbridge, Top Hops Farm

With more than 40 years of experience as an automotive engineer and quality control specialist, Trowbridge brought structure and intention to the farm. She built a process-driven operation where everyone is trained, tasks rotate, and every workday ends with a team debrief, just as it did back on the plant floor. “At the end of every shift, we all gather. Some have a beer, some don’t, and we talk about what went well, what didn’t, what could be better,” she said.

At harvest time, her role is orchestration: keeping everyone on time, adjusting the schedule as needed, and ensuring each crew member knows what comes next. She doesn’t shy away from making decisions, and she certainly doesn’t need a whip to run a tight ship.

Celebrating Chinook: Rose Stahl, Mr. Wizard’s Hops

“Chinook is Michigan’s variety,” says Steinman. “It has its own identity—pineapple, fruit, less resin than the Pacific Northwest.” She believes it deserves far more attention from brewers nationwide. Since 2017, Michigan’s signature hop has taken center stage at the Great Beer State Conference and Trade Show, where the Chinook Cup honors the best of the harvest.

The contest, hosted by Hop Growers of Michigan, gives growers a chance to showcase their finest Chinook and take home serious bragging rights. For years, Rose Stahl, co-owner of Mr. Wizard’s Hops in Monroe, has helped organize the event, just one of many ways she has helped move the industry forward.

Stahl’s journey into hop farming started not with a business plan, but with a ruined cornfield and a casual suggestion from her son. After 30 solid days of rain, which turned part of their southeast Michigan farm into a lake—so deep that eagles were bathing in it—Rose and her husband, John, were at a loss. 

“We lost over five acres of corn,” she recalled. Her son, who had just started working at Short’s Brewing near Traverse City, looked at their sandy soil and said, “Why don’t you try growing hops?” Rose turned to him and asked, “What are hops?” 

That summer, they planted a test row, harvested enough to brew a small batch of beer, and threw a party in their greenhouse to share it. Encouraged by the results, they planted two acres the following year.

Ten years later, Stahl is still in the field, though she admits they’re starting to scale back. “We’re getting older,” she says with a laugh, “but it’s been one heck of a ride.”

Carving Out an Identity

Hop farming may appear to be a male-dominated industry, but many Michigan farms thrive thanks to women doing essential behind-the-scenes labor. On family farms, men are often the public face, “but women make substantial contributions that often go unseen,” insists Amy Tennis of Michigan Hop Alliance.

She spent nearly a decade working full-time off the farm while spending evenings in the yard—mowing, weeding, training bines, managing irrigation, applying for grants, organizing fundraisers, and handling the books. Farming, she says, is humbling. You learn something one year, and it’s another year before you can apply it. It’s a long game, and Michigan’s hop story is still being written, but the women behind the bines are shaping what comes next.

“We’re not the Pacific Northwest,” says Nicole Shriner, hops researcher at MSU. “But we can carve out our own identity. We want people to say, ‘Oh, this has Michigan hops in it,’ and know that means something special.”

The Brewers Association and CraftBeer.com are proud to support content that fosters a more diverse and inclusive craft beer community. This post was selected by the North American Guild of Beer Writers as part of its Diversity in Beer Writing Grant series.

The post Michigan Hops: The Women Behind the Bines appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

Several days before shipping beers to Juicy Brews, slated for February 2020 in Pittsburgh, the couple were dissatisfied with the banana taste. We were like, ‘What can we do to get more banana flavor?’” Josh recalls.

Bulk aseptic banana purée couldn’t be shipped in time, so the couple blended store-bought bananas. The oxidation lent an unappetizing brown tint. Dried banana chips also flopped. Then a discovery: Their favored purée was basically just Gerber banana baby food. The couple hit every grocery store in Newark, about 40 miles east of Columbus, to buy banana baby food for a “scooping party,” Lange says, to amplify the beer’s banana flavor. At the festival, DankHouse served beer a few booths from The Alchemist. “They’re pouring Heady Topper, and we’re laughing at ourselves with banana baby food IPA,” Lange says.

Bananas are interlinked with beer, from the yeast-supplied scent of German hefeweizens to purée-packed pastry stouts evoking a banana-split sundae. Achieving an intense banana aroma isn’t always easy, requiring brewers to stress out yeast strains, seek out dried bananas from Southeast Asia, and receive special federal approval. Until late last year, the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB) required breweries to submit formula exemptions to brew with bananas because they were not considered a traditional brewing ingredient like malts or hops.

Why are brewers so, well, bananas over the fruit? Let’s unpeel the appeal.

Eau de Bananas

A century ago, Americans ate a different banana. The thick-peeled, densely bunched cultivar Gros Michel, or Big Mike, once dominated the market. It contained high levels of isoamyl acetate, a fruity ester that provides bananas with their signature flavor. By the 1950s, a fungal outbreak decimated Gros Michel, which gave way to Cavendish bananas sold far and wide. The Cavendish variety contains lower levels of isoamyl acetate, creating a disconnect for fans of candies such as Runts or Laffy Taffy; they’re flavored with artificial banana flavorings heavy on isoamyl acetate.

All beers contain isoamyl acetate—Coors Banquet, in particular, has a noticeable banana element that develops during its cold fermentation—and too much is deemed an off flavor. “Banana in your beer sometimes means that you’ve screwed something up,” Lange says. Yet banana is a German hefeweizen’s signature scent that straddles a fragrant line between real and fake. “If you opened up a banana, it wouldn’t smell like hefeweizen,” says Derek Goodman, head brewer at Westbound & Down Brewing, which operates four Colorado locations. “If you crunch up banana Runts, that’s what a hefeweizen smells like.”

Goodman’s favorite, and most challenging, beer to make is the hefeweizen Don’t Hassle the Hef, which earned a silver medal at 2024’s Great American Beer Festival. To coax out big aromas of bananas and oranges, Goodman pitches one-third the recommended amount of yeast and minimizes available oxygen. “There’s too much wort for the yeast, but it gets greedy and tries to rapidly reproduce to catch up and make up for its lack of oxygen,” Goodman says. “That’s what produces these fruity esters.”

At Wallenpaupack Brewing in Hawley, Pa., flagship Hawley Hefeweizen is sometimes ordered according to its signature flavor. “People ask for the banana beer, or they tell us that they can really taste the bananas in it,” says Logan Ackerley, head brewer.

Maybe we’re entering a banana moment? Over the last few years, Jeff Mello, founder of Nashville yeast suppliers Bootleg Biology and Spot Yeast, has seen increasing interest in hefeweizen yeast. It’s now the second best-selling strain for Spot Yeast, trailing only the hazy IPA yeast. “I can’t keep it in stock,” says Mello, who points me to the late-August Banana Brunch at Nashville’s Fait La Force Brewing. The stars: ice cream and hefeweizen.

Stouts Go Wild Over Dried Thai Bananas

Today’s beer customers seek dynamic flavors. Even super-stressed hefeweizen yeast can only supply so much isoamyl acetate. Seeking intense banana experiences, breweries are buying bulk puréed bananas to channel desserts.

WeldWerks Brewing in Greeley, Colo., makes beers such as Chocolate Banana Pudding Stout, while Crooked Hammock Brewery of Lewes, Del., plays on chocolate-dipped bananas in the cheekily named Banana Hammock, a Belgian-style quadrupel with cocoa nibs and bananas. “It’s a no-brainer combination,” Crooked Hammock director of brewing operations Larry Horwitz says. “The fruit’s aromas accentuate the sweetness and fullness of the beer.” To make the 15% ABV wintertime warmer, Horwitz feeds the beer sugary banana pureé once primary fermentation has finished to prevent the yeast’s “Cheetos dilemma” of favoring junk food over healthy food. Imagine reclining on a couch, bagged crunchy snacks on your stomach, salad in the kitchen. “Do you really want to get up and walk in the kitchen?” Horwitz says, laughing. “Yeast shut down when they get tons of simple sugar.”

Adding bananas during fermentation can produce excess sulfur and off flavors, says Nick Panchamé, president of HOMES Brewery in Ann Arbor, Mich. He adds banana purée post-fermentation to beers and Smooj hard smoothies to add residual sweetness and boost body. The thicker texture of banana-infused anything can be divisive. “There’s a subset of people who really do hate it,” Panchamé says. The runaround is a not-so-secret ingredient: dried wild Thai banana.

Around 12 years ago, Rare Tea Cellar CEO and president Rodrick Markus began importing the “Grand Cru of bananas,” as he calls it. As with every ingredient, he doused the fructose-rich dried banana with hot water to assess its usefulness in syrups, spirits, and beer. “It’s this perfect way of infusing banana flavor,” says Markus, who is based in Chicago. Around 99 percent of his Thai bananas go into granola. But in 2019, as pastry stouts gained traction, craft breweries such as Other Half and Evil Twin championed infusing imperial stouts with wild Thai bananas. It imparted concentrated banana flavor without altering the body or creating fermentation flaws. “We call it the ingredient that kept us alive during Covid,” says Markus, who typically has a deep roster of restaurant clients. “When we went down to one wholesale order in Chicago, we were still selling about 1,000 pounds of the banana weekly.”

Matt Tarpey buys wild Thai bananas in bulk for the imperial stouts and barleywines at The Veil Brewing in Richmond, Va. “If you really want that crazy banana character, you need more than 10 pounds per barrel,” says Tarpey, head brewer and cofounder. At the current price of $50 per pound—and likely higher, given the current 35% tariffs on Thailand—“it gets really expensive really quick.” Profit margins are skinny on extravagant barrel-aged imperial stouts such as Sky Summoner, which is conditioned on vanilla beans, toasted coconut, and Thai banana. “We’re not losing money on them, but they’re not a huge moneymaker for us,” Tarpey says. “It’s a labor of love.”

At Crooked Hammock, Horwitz and the brewing team used to hand peel, macerate, and then blend bananas to make Banana Hammock. Now the brewery sources bulk banana purée and juice, but Horwitz can’t resist adding a few whole bananas to the brew kettle. Says Horwitz, “It just feels right to peel a banana and throw it in there.”

One thing is certain: There sure are a bunch of different ways to bring bananas into beer.

The post Unpeeling Banana’s Appeal in Beer appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

FlyteCo has been making this trip—typically mid- to late August—since the brewery opened in 2019. Plenty of beer writers count a ride-along on their bucket lists, and I’d been eagerly anticipating the experience for months. But the weather doesn’t much care about fresh hop beers, pilots’ passion projects, or journalists’ dreams. As the hop flight gets postponed from a Monday to a Wednesday and then again, it becomes clear just how little about this endeavor is under Serani or any mere mortal’s control—and how getting to make this flight and subsequent beer is like catching lightning in a bottle.

“It’s always so last minute,” Serani says. “The harvest, they don’t know when that’s going to be until a few weeks ahead of time. The weather for the flight, we don’t know for sure until the day of.” Once both the harvest and weather patterns prove willing to play along, Serani has to remain in constant communication throughout the journey with the FlyteCo team back at the brewhouse. “They’re getting the beer ready for us to get back and get the hops right in. Every time we’ve been able to make this beer, it’s a miracle.”

The miracle has had a good track record. After six consecutive years, 2025 is the first time Serani isn’t sure if they’ll be able to make the flight at all. If he can’t fly to Billy Goat by the end of the week, he says, they’ll just have to get the hops shipped overnight.

Hop is My Co-Pilot Fresh Hop IPA is a “difficult beer to make,” Serani acknowledges, and in the era of hop pellets and extracts, navigating the challenging flight path over the Rocky Mountains isn’t exactly the most efficient way to get hops. But, says Serani, “the entire FlyteCo brand is about aviation, about inspiring people to push their limits and do something they don’t think they can do.” He thinks of his own path to getting his pilot’s license, how tough the going could get, and how the people who believed in him saw him through. “We want to do that for other people, whatever we can inspire them to do.” Plus, he adds, this excursion helps him and any pilots who come along keep their skills sharp.

“It’s just as much about community, too,” Serani notes. “It’s not often we can get together and fly out unless we have this common mission. And then we get a great beer out of it.”

Learning to Fly

On the cloudy Wednesday that this year’s hop flight had been pushed to, just a few of us—significantly down from the eight planes’ worth of hop-motivated pilots and passengers originally signed on—showed up to Erie for what would essentially become a post-mortem for the day’s flight of fancy. One member of the group is Serani’s father, Scott, which is how I learned that building and flying planes is a treasured family tradition generations strong. As Scott Serani points out photos, newspaper clippings, and plane pieces tacked to the wall of the family’s hangar and father and son share stories, I learn just how deep aviation’s roots run for Eric Serani and FlyteCo.

Serani grew up in Broomfield, Colo., about a 20-minute drive from Erie Municipal Airport. When he was just three years old, his grandfather took him up in his own 1946 kit plane during the toddler’s visit to Chicago. By the time Serani was five, his grandfather had moved to Colorado, where he could closely foster his grandson’s love of flying. His friend, a flight instructor, started teaching Serani to fly in earnest when Serani was 13. Sixteen is the earliest one can legally fly a plane alone, which Serani did; at 17, he got his full license allowing him to take passengers up with him. Between those two milestones, his grandfather passed away. The members of the EAA—Experimental Aircraft Association—chapter he and his grandfather belonged to rallied around Serani, realizing he’d lost his biggest supporter, and also that he needed to train in a more contemporary plane. They raised enough to give Serani a scholarship to hone his craft and become certified at Erie’s airport.

From that moment on, Serani wanted to pay that community support forward. He joined the EAA’s Young Eagles program, which gets kids between the ages of eight and 17 up for their first flights to spark their interest in aviation. And yes, that means Serani was sometimes flying kids older than him.

“One time, one of the kids’ mothers came over to me and asked if I was excited to go up for my first flight. I told her, ‘Ma’am, I’m the pilot,’” Serani says with a chuckle. Serani has continued his work with the EAA and balances running FlyteCo with a position as a flight instructor at Erie.

Dreams of a Flight-Themed Brewery Take Off

FlyteCo’s Denver location isn’t just meaningful for Serani’s personal history, but for aviation history. Today, Denver International Airport (DIA) is the third busiest in the United States and sixth in the world. Major airlines like United once had key hubs at the city’s original airport, Stapleton International Airport, which opened in 1929 and hit third place for busiest airport globally by 1961—it may have in fact grown too quickly to keep up with the traffic, as it closed in 1995 and operations transitioned to DIA. After Orville and Wilbur Wright shocked the world with the first flight in 1903 and aviation was born, it was considered impossible at high altitudes; to prove this theory wrong, French aviator Louis Paulhan became the first to fly in the Mile High City in 1910. And in 1954 in Aurora, just a few minutes’ drive from FlyteCo, Bob Stanley established the Stanley Aviation Manufacturing Plant, where he innovated upon and became one of the largest producers of airline ejection seats.

Serani learned to fly, therefore, in a part of the country that had really earned its wings, and this is fittingly where he would chase his next dream: owning a brewery. He and FlyteCo cofounder Jason Slingsby were roommates at the University of Colorado Boulder where Serani studied aerospace engineering—Slingsby went on to get his master’s degree in chemical engineering and also has a background in aviation. Serani went to work for Boeing but didn’t jibe with corporate life; meanwhile, he and Slingsby developed a homebrewing habit. After trying enough of their successful creations, friends of Serani and Slingsby declared that if the homebrewers wanted to open a brewery, they would invest.

With another cofounder, Morgan O’Sullivan, Serani and Slingsby opened FlyteCo’s original location on Denver’s Tennyson Street in February 2019 with a 15-barrel brewhouse. In 2020, an opportunity for a second location came along. After closing down in 1995, Stapleton International Airport had mostly been redeveloped, except for the air traffic control tower that had sat empty until arcade restaurant chain Punch Bowl Social took over the first three floors in 2017. But that entity shuttered by 2020, and family friends who had initially invested in FlyteCo told Serani and Slingsby they’d buy the tower if the brewery wanted to move in. After all, what could be a more serendipitous location for an aviation-themed brewery?

FlyteCo Tower opened in 2022, and in the spring of 2025, the original FlyteCo on Tennyson Street closed its doors. Copper Kettle Brewing Company, also in Denver, now brews FlyteCo’s flagship beers for them so their current 2.5-barrel system at the Tower can function as an opportunity for experimentation and smaller, more limited runs such as their Hop Is My Co-Pilot Fresh Hop IPA. The cofounders have leaned into the Tower as a massive entertainment complex with multiple bars, arcade games, bowling, billiards, mini golf, axe throwing, and more—there’s enough to do for an entire day with family or friends while enjoying FlyteCo’s beer alongside other select craft beers, wine, cocktails, non-alcoholic beverages, and a full food menu. Serani credits the something-for-everyone approachability and experiential component the Tower offers for being able to successfully run a brewery today, continuing to serve up multiple styles crafted with the same dedication to a steady crowd, and chase heady goals like fresh hop beers made possible by the power of flight.

Charting a Fresh Hop Course

When Serani broke down just how challenging the logistics of the hop flight can be as we disappointed would-be pilots and passengers lingered in the Seranis’ hangar—as if it was only in physically leaving Erie Airport that the day’s adventure would truly be canceled—I remembered a conversation I had with Morgan O’Sullivan in 2023. I was writing an explainer on fresh hop beers, and the FlyteCo cofounder had elaborated on the finicky nature of this substyle in general, let alone when you arrange your own airborne travel. Brewers must be flexible regarding what hops they’ll get as it all depends on what’s ready on which day during hops’ August-to-September harvest season. While fresh hop beers are more about the rare opportunity to brew something both truly local and uniquely ephemeral, none of them are the most efficient beer any brewer produces for the year—especially FlyteCo.

“It costs us more in fuel than it does to buy the hops, so there’s no practicality to the event whatsoever,” O’Sullivan had told me. “We do it because we’re passionate about it.”

Having interviewed dozens upon dozens of breweries at this point in my career, I am well versed in the many places where obstacles present themselves—not only in singular endeavors such as brewing with fresh hops, but in the herculean task of opening a brewery to begin with. For that reason, I’m surprised to learn that FlyteCo’s first hop flight took place the very year the brewery opened. However, the more I learn about Serani’s lifelong dedication to aviation and unlikelihood of backing down from a challenge, that element of surprise fades.

As FlyteCo’s original location opened, a friend of Serani’s who owns Bruz Beers, a Belgian-inspired brewery in Denver, was camping out at the now-closed High Wire Hops farm in Paonia, Colo. He saw a plane runway near the farm and called Serani: Wouldn’t it be something to fly his plane out here to get hops? Their interest piqued, Serani and Slingsby formulated a flight plan—175 nautical miles over the Rockies at between 11,000 and 13,000 feet in altitude, roughly a 90-minute trip for a four-seater RV-10—and then a recipe, collaborating with Bruz Beers for their first fresh hop beer.

When brewing on the 15-barrel system on Tennyson Street, the FlyteCo crew would fly back 80 to 100 pounds of hops from High Wire and later Billy Goat. Serani says the weight was never an issue, but space proved challenging—sacks of Chinook, Cascade, Nugget, or whatever was available that day were stuffed in every nook and cranny of each participating plane. Today, they get around 20 pounds of hops for their smaller brewhouse capacity, still ranging among Chinook, Cascade, and Nugget; still open to whatever Billy Goat has for them. During the flight, Slingsby preps the mash. The moment the hops touch down at Erie, they’re shuttled back to Central Park via car to get to work. Some go into the kettle for bittering while the rest go into the fermenter to dry hop the ale with their radiant aromas. It’s around this time, Serani says, about six hours after their initial departure to Billy Goat, that everyone breathes, gets a beer, and laughs about the wild adventure they just had.

Smooth Landing: FlyteCo Tower Builds on the Brewery’s Aviation Ethos

I may have not been able to experience that particular adventure this year, and as I would learn a week later, neither did the FlyteCo crew themselves. For the first year since the brewery’s launch, the weather had pushed flight plans so far that the team missed the harvest, grounding their fresh hop beer until 2026. It’s news that puts all of my own harrowing memories of delays and missed connections in perspective. I did, however, get to take in the adventure that is FlyteCo Tower, and become fully immersed in the wonder of flight for one entire day.

After all, all the arcade games in the world can’t distract from FlyteCo’s lifeblood of aviation. What other brewery can claim an in-house historian and tour guide who has taken on the mission of turning the 11-story air traffic control tower itself into a museum? I had the opportunity to take one of Sean Henson’s tours up through the tower, during which he stops on each landing to unravel the history of aviation, from Paulhan’s history-making flight to to Stapleton’s development, to the groundbreaking efforts of Marlon Green, who fought for Black pilots to be able to fly for commercial airlines, and Emily Howell Warner, a Denver native who became the first woman hired onto a permanent United States airline flight crew.

Henson is a gifted storyteller who clearly shares the passion for aviation that’s in the water—or the beer—at FlyteCo. People return to the brewery to gift him photos and memorabilia he continues to add to the tower’s collection. I learn so much, in fact, about the timeline of aviation on this tour—a history pushed along by people just like the FlyteCo Crew that dream of taking to the skies, obstacles be damned—that I find myself getting emotional about flight and the people who devote themselves to perpetually improving upon it.

Should you find yourself also tearing up on a Tower tour, give in: You’re meant to feel inspired by the power of flight at this brewery. It’s the location, it’s the aviation-themed decor, it’s Henson’s work turning the tower into an homage, it’s the beer, it’s the hop harvest flight, it’s who Serani and Slingsby are. Ten percent of FlyteCo’s profits, the brewery’s marketing manager Kaylie Maness tells me, go to aviation-fueled initiatives like the same Young Eagles program Serani has been working with since he was 17.

Even without a Hop Is My Co-Pilot IPA for 2025, the dogged determination and enduring love of aviation are core ingredients in all of FlyteCo’s beers. I’m almost sure I can taste that in the brewery’s brightly citrusy Azacca Pale Ale I sip at one of the FlyteCo Tower’s bars, surrounded by suspended model planes and aviation memorabilia, enthusiastic beer fans, and kids excited to see what game they can play next. It strikes me that the Tower captures only the good parts about an airport, like the promise of an exciting journey and the introspection it causes, making you consider what inspires you and what you might be capable of. From Serani’s intention of motivating guests to take flight or rise to whatever challenges move them, hope springs eternal. And that certainly includes hope for clear skies and fresh hops in 2026.

The post Cloudy with a Chance of Fresh Hops: How Denver’s FlyteCo Catches Lightning in a Bottle appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

At Sunriver Brewing in Oregon, head brewer Brett Thomas says their range of styles was first determined based on where the beer was going to be sold back in 2014: the brewery’s restaurant. “The beers were very pub oriented, and they were geared toward more of a transient tourist demographic,” he says, as Sunriver’s 2,000 year-long inhabitants can welcome up to 15,000 additional visitors on weekends. “Our beers were really geared toward those people with very basic styles for craft beer: a blonde ale, a pale ale, an amber ale, and a stout.”

Soon though, as the brewery attracted wholesalers’ attention and opened other taprooms and pubs, Sunriver Brewing began to expand its offerings in order to find that sweet but challenging spot “between making cutting-edge beer and making beer that people know and love.”

Sometimes breweries find that the clear path they had in mind is not so clear to others. That’s what Humble Sea cofounder Frank Scott Krueger discovered when he launched the California-based brewery in 2015. “We originally set out to be a lager-first brewery—that’s what we were passionate about, and still are,” he says. “But back when we launched, the lager love hadn’t really caught on yet in California. So, to keep the lights on, we pivoted and leaned hard into hop-forward beers, especially our foggy IPAs, which put us on the map.”

At first, 95% of their beer was on the hoppy side of the spectrum. Today, having gained trust from their consumers, they were able to return to their first love: 30% of their beers are now lagers.

As time passes, breweries are struggling to find the answer to the following question: how does one find balance in an always evolving industry, where trends come and go and drinkers are either adventurous, loyal to their favorite brew, or a bit of both?

Expand Your Crowd

Between bold new releases and familiar brews, Sunriver Brewing decided not to choose and instead dug into a little bit of everything for everyone. “We want to make sure that we have a beverage that fits everybody’s needs,” Thomas says. “Not everybody wants craft beer, so we’re going to make some craft seltzer, but if you would have asked me two years ago if we would be making a hard seltzer, I would have said never.”

Sunriver’s Coolwater American light lager appeals to its OG consumers—tourists—while the barrel aged and wild series speak to a more “high-end” demographic. And then there are the people in between: “We still live in an IPA culture—that’s what everybody wants,” Thomas believes. “Half of the tap handles anywhere you go are IPAs or some variation, so we have to be very strong in that realm.”

Humble Sea took the opposite route, first appealing to a very specific and picky demographic. “We were focused on beer nerds, the kind of people who trade cans, track every release, and fly across the country just to drink the next thing,” Scott Krueger says. “As we’ve grown, we’ve also connected with a wider crowd, people who just want to hang out and have a great beer with friends.”

Now the team even tailors its offerings to fit the audience of their different taprooms. “In Pacifica, West Coast IPAs fly,” Scott Krueger says. “Santa Cruz leans hard into Pilsners and lagers, and Alameda has a solid group of beer nerds who love big, bold stuff like triple and quad IPAs.”

Finding that balance isn’t just about the beers they brew, but how and where they sell them. With experience, breweries had to learn not to put all their eggs in one basket. With their comfortable margins, leaning hard on their pubs and taprooms may seem like a good idea until an unexpected pandemic hits and everything has to close down, while relying solely on wholesalers can backfire when a trusted partner gets acquired and changes its portfolio entirely.

But this also leads to conflicting priorities: “When you sell beer through so many channels, you end up with competing agendas,” Thomas says. “What does the wholesaler want? What does a tavern owner want? What do our pub operators want? What does our ownership want to see? What do we want to make?”

In short: it’s a never-ending stream of adaptation while keeping in mind to not take anything for granted, precisely not your customers.

Back to the Flagship

While they can’t predict what’s coming next, brewers have seen a shift happening in the last few years. “People still love trying new stuff, but there’s some beer release fatigue out there,” Scott Krueger says. “More folks just want a reliable, delicious beer they can drink while catching up with friends.”

Beer writer Jeff Alworth has also been wondering about how the power of nostalgia is serving mainstay beers such as Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale and what breweries have been doing about it. “Beer has spent a lot of the last decade focused on novelty and discovery,” he writes. “Many breweries didn’t even bother with flagship brands, offering only a steady stream of new products. Breweries dating to earlier eras watched interest in their flagships dwindle, and many neglected them.”

While Humble Sea and Sunriver Brewing haven’t been there as long as breweries like Sierra Nevada or Guinness, they’ve seen the power flagships hold for their brand and their consumers.

“We never saw ourselves as a flagship or core beer kind of brewery,” Scott Krueger admits. Their drinkers decided otherwise though, and made their Foggy IPA, Socks & Sandals, stand out. “The return of flagships makes sense. People want something familiar and great, and [Socks & Sandals] fits that bill.”

It’s thanks to wholesalers, Thomas says, that Vicious Mosquito became Sunriver’s flagship IPA. “Back to 2014, wholesalers were still very interested in brand building and if they found something that sells a little bit, they’d latch onto it and do everything they could to exploit those sales,” he says. “That’s what happened with Vicious Mosquito. People may not have had any of the other beers that we make, but they know that one, and they love it. It’s really the beer that built our brand, and we treat it as such.”

The post Evolving Tastes: How Breweries Are Finding Balance appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

Whether you’re a seasoned beer traveler or planning your first tasting trip, these destinations offer more than just a comfortable bed—they provide the chance to live and breathe a brewery’s world.

Immersive Beer Experiences

Beer tourism is no longer just about ordering a tasting flight or filling a growler. Today’s beer lovers want to slow down, savor their sips, and connect to the place behind the pour. Overnight stays offer that opportunity, creating powerful memories that keep customers coming back. For breweries, lodging isn’t just a revenue stream—it’s a storytelling platform. It’s a chance to reflect their brand’s values through design, hospitality, and an immersive emotional connection.

So, the next time you plan a beercation, skip the chain hotel near the brewery. Book a stay at a place where the beer is brewed just steps away, the team behind it is part of your experience, and your pint comes with a real-life story.

Cabin Culture Meets Craft Beer

Backwoods Brewing Company – Carson, WA

Located in the scenic Columbia River Gorge, Backwoods Brewing Company has always been a destination worth the drive (one hour from Portland, Ore., and three from Seattle). But when the Waters family looked out the window of their brewpub and saw potential beyond the taproom, the idea for Backwoods Cabins was born. The view of the Columbia River Gorge is magnificent, with forested hills, rugged cliffs, and the sparkling river below.

“People already come out here to slow down—what if they could stay the night too?” says Steve Waters, Backwoods’ CEO. “We’ve always tried to create spaces that feel easy to be in, like you’re welcome to hang out as long as you want. So, we approached the cabins the same way—not just lodging, but part of the full Backwoods experience.”

Each of the eight luxury-leaning cabins has a unique theme—Hiker’s, Kayaker’s, Stargazer’s—designed to reflect the region’s outdoor adventures. The design walks that delightful line between PNW cabin-core and grown-up comfort. Each one-bedroom cabin has a flick-on gas fireplace, a squishy leather armchair that practically insists you stay in for the night, and a kitchenette stocked with a Keurig, microwave, and just enough room to stash your farmers market haul. Outside: private porches with Adirondack chairs and built-in firepits, perfect for s’mores and stargazing. Inside: crisp 600-thread-count sheets, hops-scented spa soap, and a bed so plush you’ll forget you’re just steps from a brewery. There are even snacks waiting when you arrive—and yes, your dog is invited too, in select cabins.

Waters sees beer and hospitality as deeply complementary. “Guests can add beer to their room when they book—usually a mix of what we’re excited about at the moment,” he says. “Some grab a pizza and take it back to their porch, others hang out at the pub for a flight. It’s all about making it easy to enjoy beer in whatever way fits their trip.”

Once you’ve checked in, wander over to the taproom for a look (and taste) around: start with Party Acres Hazy IPA for notes of tropical hops, sip the smooth Ridge Run Oatmeal Stout—with espresso, chocolate, and roasted barley in every pour—and don’t miss the S’mores Golden Stout if you’re in a dessert mood. It’s a laid‑back lineup with enough variety to pair with every cabin-level cozy vibe.

A Lodge with Lager in Its DNA

von Trapp Family Lodge & von Trapp Brewing – Stowe, VT

If the name sounds familiar, it should—the von Trapp Family Lodge was founded by the same family made famous by The Sound of Music. But there’s more than musical history tucked into the hills of Stowe, Vt. There’s also a world-class brewery and a 2,600-acre alpine playground.

“Johannes von Trapp started the brewery because he wanted beers like the ones he’d enjoyed in Europe—crisp, refreshing lagers you can have after a ski or hike,” says Emily Provost, brewery marketing manager at von Trapp Brewing. “He built it right into the property, using natural spring water from the land.”

The resort offers a fully immersive experience, from hearty Austrian-inspired cuisine to guided brewery tastings and snowshoe tours led by a von Trapp family member. In the Bierhall, you’ll find crisp schnitzel, house-made bratwurst with tangy sauerkraut, and warm pretzels served with beer cheese made from the brewery’s own lagers. Save room for classic apple strudel or Linzer torte for dessert. The beers—such as the award-winning Helles, Kölsch-style, and Oktoberfest—mirror the resort’s alpine soul, brewed with precision and a deep respect for European tradition. “Staying here lets you live, eat, and drink like a von Trapp,” says Provost. “It’s about connecting to history, nature, and the land the beer comes from.”

A Finger Lakes Favorite with a Beer-Centric Stay

The Lodge at Grist Iron Brewing – Watkins Glen, NY

While most breweries add lodging after the fact, Grist Iron Brewing did things a little differently. “The lodging came first,” says Emily Knowlden, social media and marketing coordinator. “When the owners were scouting locations, they found a property that already had rooms—it was a perfect fit.”

Now, The Lodge at Grist Iron is a full-fledged destination in the Finger Lakes. Guests are welcomed with a complimentary pint, and they can sip Grist Iron brews just steps from their rooms imbued with rustic-modern design, black-and-white brewing murals, Luxe linens, subway-tiled showers, flat-screen TVs, and mini‑fridges stocked with Grist Iron cans. Select rooms even have gas fireplaces, private balconies or patios, and sweeping lake views. Outside, an open-air common area offers firepits to gather around before grabbing breakfast or tapping a fresh brew. Most importantly, every bathroom comes with a built-in shower ledge made for one thing: a shower beer. It’s a cheeky, perfectly on-brand touch that turns rinsing off into a mini taproom moment. Crack open a cold one, steam rising, beer in hand—now you’re on vacation.

In the taproom, favorites include Lake Life IPA, bursting with mango and grapefruit; the nutty, chocolate-forward MaXXimus Brown Ale; and the crisp Campfire Lite Lager, a sessionable pour that’s all about easy drinking. For seasonal surprises, look out for How Low Can You Mango IPA or the berry-bright That’s My Jam! kettle sour—perfect for pairing with pizza and lakeside views.

New additions like Beer Mountain—a disc golf course and dog park with an on-site “Woof Top” bar—further blur the line between brewery and resort. “Guests immerse themselves in the Grist Iron experience,” Knowlden says. “They linger longer, come back often, and engage deeply with our team.”

More Beer Stays Worth Checking Out

Calistoga Inn & Napa Valley Brewing Co. (CA)

The first commercial brewery in Napa since Prohibition, this inn offers charming lodging with a lush beer garden, wine-country vibes, and house-brewed ales such as the Calistoga Pilsner, a crisp and refreshing patio pour, and the American Wheat Ale, lightly hopped with a soft citrus finish.

McMenamins (OR & WA)

Masters of adaptive reuse, McMenamins transforms historic buildings—former schools, churches, and lodges—into eclectic hotel-brewery hybrids. Expect colorful art, secret speakeasy-style bars tucked behind unmarked doors, and one-of-a-kind brews such as the malty, roasty Ruby Ale (infused with raspberries) or the smooth, toffee-toned Hammerhead Pale Ale.

The Brewhalla Crash Pad (ND)

In Fargo, Drekker Brewing has turned its beer into décor. Each room in this boutique hotel is themed after one of their beers, offering a quirky, hyper-branded stay. Take the Mind Bullets suite. Named after Drekker’s zesty sour IPA, this corner suite reflects the beer’s bold personality with polished concrete floors, exposed industrial ductwork, and a vibrant mural wall that mirrors the can’s psychedelic label—perfect for selfies and storytelling 

More beers to enjoy including the Brain Squeeze smoothie sour series (packed with fruit purée) and the Ectogasm, a juicy, hazy IPA that’s as playful as it sounds.

Commerce Street Brewery Hotel (WI)

Perched above a European-style brewpub in Mineral Point’s historic district, this five-room inn (plus cottages) brings small-town charm to the beer travel scene. Try the Mineral Point Pilsner for a clean, classic lager or the Old Number One, a rich and malty English-style ale brewed on-site.

The post Beer’s Boutique Lodging Destinations appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

What started out with Blue Point Brewery in 1998 has grown exponentially over the past decade to include award-winning craft breweries such as Greenport Harbor, Jamesport Brewery, Eastern Front, übergeek Brewery, Twin Fork, and North Fork Brewing Company. Riding the wave of agrotourism, these breweries are turning out impressive pints that are luring many to step off the wine trail and onto the beer bandwagon.

“The North Fork is a place known for viticulture, so it’s nice to have a brewing oasis in the middle of wine country,” said Sean Galligan, head brewer at the pioneering Greenport Harbor Brewing, which opened its doors in 2009. The brewery has grown over the past 16 years to include a second location a few miles down the Main Road in Peconic, with a state-of-the-art kitchen, a couple of acres with picnic tables, live music, and lawn games such as giant Jenga and cornhole.

Galligan brews several flagships, many with New York State-grown malt, including the citrusy American-style Harbor Ale, the West Coast-style super hoppy Otherside IPA, Lucha Lager made with NYS-grown wheat with added sea salt and key limes, the German-style Haus Pils, and the rich, toasty Black Duck Porter. Seasonal summertime beers still on tap include a hazy New England style IPA called Facing East, brewed with Amarillo, Citra, and Simcoe hops; and a super-fresh Beehave Summer Ale, a moderately hopped golden ale.

The area’s local farmland is a boon during late summer and into September when Galligan puts locally harvested Cascade and Willamette hops from Orient Point to work in Greenport Harbor’s limited release fresh hop beer. “The hops are picked early in the morning and brewed with that same day,” he said.

Something for Everyone

“The North Fork is a craft beer destination,” proclaimed Rob Raffa, owner and brewmaster at übergeek Brewing in Riverhead. “The area is known for wine, but if people in your party want beer or cider or spirits, now they have that too. The breweries came in and are now part of the alcohol trail of the North Fork. It means there’s something for everyone.”

Raffa, who studied physics and astrophysics in college, named übergeek after his home brewery. After many years of experimenting as an amateur brewer, he took a job learning the craft at the former Mustache Brewing in Riverhead. “I don’t regret it,” he said of the left turn his career took. “I love what I do.”

After four years at Moustache, he departed in 2018 and began co-brewing with former co-worker and North Fork Brewing Company founder Peter Barraud, using its production facility to test the waters, leaning into wholesale and direct-to-consumer sales during the pandemic.

When his former employer at Mustache Brewing closed the brewery in February 2021, he took over their space and officially opened the übergeek brewery and taproom the following month. The brewery’s growth has been impressive. Buoyed by the North Fork’s robust agrotourism, übergeek has gone from four fermenters to 16 with eight more on the way and will be doubling the size of the brewhouse this winter, which will mean doubling their output. The brewery’s Tasting Room in a former warehouse space hosts a monthly concert series and a variety of food trucks.

Übergeek’s beers have off-beat names Raffa says are inspired by middle-of-the night musings. There’s A Casualty of Circumstance, a hazy and citrusy East Coast IPA; a Mexican lager called It’s All Gonna be Fine; and a double IPA with notes of mango and pineapple called Space Age Times, Stone Age Minds.

“I tend to wake up in the middle of the night in an existential crisis and the beers are named for my state of mind,” said Raffa. “If anyone wants to psychoanalyze me they can just read the names of the beers.”

Others include Their Morality Has Always Been Subjective, a big 9% ABV beer, and Flirting with Madness Has Its Benefits, a hazy double IPA that’s also high in alcohol with 8.7% ABV. I Thought You Liked a Challenge, an East Coast bright, citrusy, and juice-forward IPA, is their summer ale. “It’s an ode to übergeek and the trials of being a business owner.”

A Symbiotic Relationship

“We are riding the coattails of the wine business,” said Peter Chekijian, who founded Twin Fork Beer Co. with his twin brother (and fellow musician) Dan. Twin Fork began brewing in 2014 and names its beers after symphonies and elements of musical theory; there’s Minuet Session IPA, Crescendo IPA, Prelude Pilsner, Alto IPA, Sonata Kölsch-style Ale, and more. “All that tourism brings people from New York and New Jersey. We get people doing bike tours and buses.”

Breweries don’t see themselves as competing with wineries but rather as complementing them. “It’s a very symbiotic relationship,” said Greenport Harbor’s Galligan. “We have a nice craft wine and beer scene and we coexist really nicely on the North Fork, which is really cool.”

Many wineries carry local beers, appealing to guests who might prefer suds to sauvignon blanc. Greenport Harbor even collaborates with nearby vineyards; it created a beer called Collaborations conditioned on Carménère grapes from Osprey’s Dominion with wild yeast strains. It won silver in the Fruit & Vegetable Beer (Sour) category at the 2024 New York State Craft Beer Competition. “We want to continue to do these sorts of collabs,” said Galligan.

It’s not just wineries that the brewers lean on, it’s the local farms. “We like to team up with farmers and show a true taste of the area,” said North Fork’s Barraud, who uses Peconic River Herb Farm, Herricks Lane Farm, and CJ Van Bourgondien Greenhouses, as well as local licensed foragers, to add local flavor to his beers. “The North Fork is so saturated with farms, it has endless produce and niche small-batch ingredients like herbs and spices such as ancho chile. That way the breweries give you a taste of the terroir and the land out here.”

Barraud rotates 80 beers throughout the year with a core group of three flagships: Run the Juice, a New England-style IPA; Hold Me Closer Tiny Lager, a German Pilsner; and a West Coast IPA called Pierce the Ale. This summer, he created fruited beers using local produce from Lewin Farms on Sound Avenue in Calverton, including a  a peach Golden Sour and a passion fruit-infused IPA. There was also a blueberry ale, a strawberry ale, and an ancho chile-infused Pilsner. “It was a fun one, with some heat and sweet smoky flavor.”

Visitors to the North Fork may be coming for the wine, but they’re returning for the experience that offers more than just grapes. “The area is known for wine, but not everyone who’s here drinks wine,” said übergeek’s Raffa. “Some people want beer or cider or spirits. These breweries came in and are now part of the alcohol trail of the North Fork.”

The post Not Just Wine: The North Fork Becomes a Beer Destination appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

“That land still has taxes paid on it, so it’s like, what can we do to make this dirt more valuable?” says Roberts, who opened R&R in 2018.

In fall 2020, Roberts answered a call from Harvest Hosts, a membership program that lets people park, for no extra fee, self-contained RVs on private properties such as farms, golf courses, and breweries. The pitch: He’d provide flat ground, and campers were encouraged to spend money at host businesses.

Roberts signed up, spent $60 on a few signs, and welcomed his first R&R camper that December. A positive review led to more bookings, as campers were “so happy they weren’t in a Walmart parking lot,” Roberts says. “They would come in and spend like $80.”

A decade ago, encouraging people to patronize breweries was simple: brew beer and they’d come. But local beer is no longer a novel lure. To attract customers and make use of underutilized land, some breweries are opening campgrounds that entice travelers to stay and grab dinner and drinks.

“We have a captive audience,” Roberts says. “As far as return on investment, this is one of the best things we’ve ever done.”

Embracing the Outdoors

A camping boom began in the pandemic as people sought fresh air and fewer folks, leading them to national parks and campgrounds where cracking beers is commonplace. According to surveys from the Dyrt, a camping platform, 45 percent of its campers bring beer while camping, and 37 percent of beer-drinking campers favor craft beer.

Nowadays, securing reservations at national parks is becoming increasingly difficult. Seeking accommodations, campers are turning to platforms such as Harvest Hosts, Hipcamp, and the Dyrt that are partnering with private landowners to offer camping.

“Businesses are realizing that they have an untapped resource sitting here,” says Kevin Long, CEO of the Dyrt, adding that breweries are a big draw. Campers can drink a few beers and “don’t even have to drive home,” he says.

Proximity to IPAs is part of the appeal. Melvin Brewing is in Alpine, Wyo., on the shores of the Palisades Reservoir and adjoining Bureau of Land Management property. People are free to pitch tents and park RVs on no-frills, first-come, first-served dispersed campsites right by the brewery.

“It’s Wyoming, it’s wild, it’s out of bounds, it’s free,” says Molly Reilly, vice president of marketing for the brewery’s parent company Pure Madness Group. Campers can crush a few Melvin IPAs, then stroll back to bed nearby “beneath total dark skies,” Reilly says.

Golden Grove Farm & Brew opened in 2017 Piedmont, S.C., just off heavily trafficked Interstate 85 where “50,000 people pass the brewery per day,” says Andrew Brown, co-founder. The brewery sits on 100 acres with an 18-hole disc golf course and space aplenty for camping. Golden Grove, which has three spots equipped with power, will soon add enough power for 20 additional campers and plans to majorly expand its campground in the future.

“Folks that stay with us spend money with us,” Brown says. “Even if they don’t drink, they’ll buy merch.”

Instead of bringing a campground to a brewery, Doug Olsen added a brewery to an existing campground. In 2023, he bought Indian Lake Adventures campground in Huntsville, Ohio, adding Camp Brewing in an existing building the following year. “When you open a brewery at a campground, the campground stays full,” Olsen says. “Campers like hanging out and drinking beer.”

Adding beer isn’t without challenges. A campground and a brewery, including a taproom, are different businesses that require different staff and licensing. Campers are allowed to bring beer to Indian Lake, but they can’t bring outside beverages to Camp’s taproom. If customers want, they can buy to-go growlers or cups of Pitch a Tent Pilsner, Into the Woods Wheat, and Roughin’ It Red Ale that can be consumed on the grounds or at the campsites.

This fall, Olsen plans to expand the camping-and-beer concept at Adventure Trails, another campground that he purchased in Bellefontaine, Ohio. Camp is contract-brewing beer to meet production demands for both campers and locals looking for cold beers.

“We need to play catch up,” Olsen says.

Hops and Parking Lots

Part of camping’s charm is exploring an unexpected location. This spring, Billy Goat Hop Farm in Montrose, Colo., opened the Down at the Hopyard campground that welcomes campers beside hop bines climbing skyward on trellises.

A visit doubles as an educational experience. “We talk to people in the morning and everybody is always like, ‘Wow, this is so cool,’” says Audrey Gehlhausen, the farm’s president, adding that guests can also try beers made with the farm’s hops. “It’s important to know where your hops come from,” Gehlhausen says.

Urban breweries are also hosting campers. Mash Mechanix Brewing sits in Colorado Springs, Colo., “right in the center of the tourist attractions,” says Leif Anderson, head brewer and co-owner. He’s a regular camper, and after using Harvest Hosts during trips Anderson turned the brewery’s paved parking lot into a campground.

He reserves two parking spaces for Sprinter vans and truck-bed campers—no trailers or rigs larger than 25 feet—to park for free overnight and partake in views of Pikes Peak while sipping offerings such as Hill Climb Hero lager and Trailer Queen hard seltzer.

Camping broadens the brewery’s customer base. “People vacation in Colorado Springs and stop in because somebody else in their family stayed here,” Anderson says.

Festival Rides and Camper Vans

Many beer festivals are in rural locations not well served by mass transportation or rideshare. As a solution, festivals offer camping that creates immersive experiences on a brewery’s property.

“Our most important marketing effort is to show off our brewery,” says Jordan Egbert, brand manager for Brewery Ommegang.

The bucolic brewery is on a former hop farm in Cooperstown, N.Y., and hosts the annual Belgium Comes to Cooperstown festival.* Campers can either stay for one or two nights, enjoying hot breakfast, bands, bathrooms, and camaraderie. Camping is where “bottle shares happen, and new friends are found,” Egbert says.

Camping is also a more affordable and abundant option than hotels. Burning Foot Beer Festival (also August 23) takes place in Muskegon, Mich., on the sandy shores of Lake Michigan where attendees pay $70 for one of 300 beachfront campsites that can sleep four people.

“With a smaller town and limited hotel space, camping gives our patrons space to spend the night after hanging out at a beer festival,” says Jimmy Hegedus, beverage director.

Not every camper wants a rustic site. Hospitality is essential for breweries, be it in the taproom or campground. Over two decades, Win and Lori Mitchell, the owners of Boothbay Craft Brewery in Boothbay, Maine, have steadily transformed their 10-acre campground and brewery into a “boutique RV park,” Win says.

The couple, who are avid RV travelers, tore down most of the property’s old cabins and added RV hook-up sites (there are around 24). They take pride in their tavern’s kitchen that serves smoked brisket, local oysters, and a lobster-packed pretzel bun that excels with Lobsterbake Lager. Everyone leaves Boothbay full, content, and well rested.

“Campers who come here tell other campers, and that is our best compliment and best advertisement,” Lori says.

*Note: After publishing this piece, we learned that Brewery Ommegang has cancelled their festival this year. From the brewery: “Brewery Ommegang has always strived to provide great shows and experiences, and we hold ourselves and our vendors to the highest standards. Cancelling BCTC was a difficult and disappointing decision for us to make. Unfortunately, due to lower than projected ticket sales, it became impossible to deliver the high-quality event and experience that our guests expect and deserve. We know those who purchased tickets are as passionate about Belgian beer as we are, but ultimately, overall ticket sales for the event fell short.”

The post Camping Out Is in at Breweries appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

Colorado Culinary Leaders  

Caroline Glover (Annette & Travelling Mercies, Aurora) is making her PAIRED debut. Glover’s resume includes being named Food & Wine’s “Best New Chefs in America” (2019), a James Beard Award for Best Chef Mountain (2022), and recent recognition for Travelling Mercies as both a James Beard Best New Bar semifinalist (2025) and one of Esquire’s Best Bars in America (2024). 

Kelly Whitaker and Mara King (The Wolf’s Tailor, Bruto, Basta, Hey Kiddo, Ok Yeah, Dry Storage, and NoneSuch) continue to push the boundaries of Colorado dining with two restaurants earning Michelin stars in 2024 and a James Beard Award for Outstanding Restaurateur. Matt Vawter (Rootstalk & Radicato, Breckenridge), fresh off his 2024 James Beard Award win for Best Chef Mountain, and Josh Niernberg (Bin 707, Grand Junction), a 2025 finalist for the Beard Award’s Outstanding Chef (National), will also bring their culinary artistry to the PAIRED table. 

Denver dining pioneer Jen Jasinski’s three restaurants (Rioja, Bistro Vendome, Ultreia), and fan-favorite Carrie Baird (Fox & The Hen), known from Top Chef and Beat Bobby Flay, will showcase their signature styles alongside fellow Denver chefs Paul Reilly (Coperta) and Linda Hampsten-Fox (The Bindery). 

National Heavyweights 

PAIRED’s reach extends well beyond Colorado, including Dan Jacobs (DanDan, Milwaukee), a Top Chef alum and James Beard finalist; Washington, D.C.’s powerhouse duo Danny Lee and Scott Drewno (Anju & Mandu), 2025 Beard finalists for Outstanding Restaurateur; and Mike Friedman (The Red Hen, Washington, D.C.), celebrated for his Michelin Bib Gourmand–recognized cooking. 

The full Paired lineup of over 25 chefs can be found here.  

From the Bar 

For the first time, PAIRED expands beyond beer and food with a curated Mocktail Bar, led by Steve Wildy (Mad Wild Wine). A James Beard Award semi-finalist and one of the country’s most respected sommeliers, Wildy will highlight the creativity and sophistication of zero-proof pairings, reflecting the rapid growth of this sector in the beverage industry. 

Curated by the Brewers Association’s Adam Dulye, PAIRED has grown since its debut into one of the premier destinations where chefs and brewers collaborate to showcase their craft. Each year, Dulye brings together top talent from across the globe, transforming Denver into a stage for innovation in beverage and food pairing. 

“PAIRED is where culinary innovation and brewing creativity meet,” said Ann Obenchain, vice president of marketing and communications for the Brewers Association. “This year’s chefs represent the very best of Colorado and beyond, and together they’ll create one-of-a-kind pairings you can only find at the Great American Beer Festival.” 

Each PAIRED ticket includes unlimited tastings of small plates and craft beverages, thoughtfully paired to surprise and delight adventurous palates. A PAIRED + GABF ticket also provides access to the festival floor. Get tickets here.

The post Michelin Stars & Beard Awards Shine at PAIRED at the 2025 Great American Beer Festival appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

No new American breweries had opened since Prohibition, and the 1970s brought closures and light lagers. McAuliffe saw not insurmountable hurdles but rather an opportunity to brew against the grain. In 1976, he partnered with Jane Zimmerman and Suzy Stern, pooled together a few thousand bucks, rented a shabby Sonoma, Calif., warehouse, and transformed former dairy equipment and 55-gallon Coca-Cola syrup drums into New Albion Brewing Company.

It became proof that a pint-size brewery—and outsize idea—could chart a flavorful new course for American beer. New Albion only produced its porter, stout, and pale ale for a half decade, closing in 1982, but the brewery’s resourcefulness, rule-breaking verve, and impactful ingredient choices remain bedrock principles of modern craft brewing.

“Jack was truly an American original,” says Jim Koch, founder and chief executive officer of Boston Beer Company, which began producing Samuel Adams Boston Lager in 1984. “Before him, starting a brewery from scratch was thought impossible. After him, 10,000 people have done it.”

McAuliffe, who died in July at age 80, created a lasting road map to opening a craft brewery, proving that a basement passion could become a viable profession. “He showed a path from homebrewing to commercial brewing,” says Ken Grossman, who toured New Albion in the late 1970s prior to opening Sierra Nevada Brewing in Chico, Calif., in 1980. 

New Albion’s embrace of floral, piney, and grapefruit-like Cascade hops, a novel American cultivar disregarded by industrial lager brewers, helped “open the floodgates of hoppy, aromatic, bitter, but also very flavorful styles of beer,” Grossman says. Cascade hops took a starring role in Sierra Nevada’s landmark Pale Ale, first brewed in 1980 and still a standard-bearer today. 

New Albion’s past created a precedent for the present. The brewery repurposed a former agricultural warehouse on Sonoma’s outskirts, and adaptive reuse of former factories, churches, banks, schools, and more remains at craft brewing’s brick-and-mortar core. After New Albion shut down, the founders of Hopland Brewery (later Mendocino Brewing Company) purchased the equipment to create California’s first brewpub. So began a long lineage of craft breweries buying old tanks and brew kettles to ferment fresh new recipes, showing no creative end to what’s feasible with malt, hops, yeast, and a desire to upend matters of taste. 

There’s one last lesson to learn from McAuliffe. Craft brewing’s founders’ circle includes no lack of iconoclasts, self-promoters, fermentation savants, and contrarians. McAuliffe set a status quo-smashing standard. Maureen Ogle, historian and author of Ambitious Brew, has fond memories of sharing cold beers and warm conversations with McAuliffe.

“I roared with laughter at Jack’s razor-sharp takedown of this, that, and the other thing,” Ogle says. “He did not suffer fools gladly, if at all. And to the end, Jack was Jack: intelligent, a wicked ability to build anything, socially awkward, mostly bored by people, oozing sarcasm. Hilarious. And according to him, everything was a Communist plot. He was a joy to know.”

To celebrate the life and legacy of McAuliffe and New Albion, we have a simple suggestion: Grab some friends and go tip back pints at a local craft brewery. Hold tight what you hold dear.

The post Celebrating the Life of Jack McAuliffe appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

When it comes to crafting their signature cuvées, winemakers opt for different grape varieties, barrel types, and aging regimens. Yet there seems to be universal consensus with the adage “it takes a lot of beer to make good wine.”

Why do so many wine pros reach for beer after a day of tasting? “It’s a great change of pace; it’s bubbly, cold, and less acidic. It’s a perfectly refreshing palate cleanser,” explains winemaker Sherman Thacher of Thacher Winery in Paso Robles on California’s Central Coast.

Thacher doesn’t just enjoy the taste of a frosty brew; his resume includes a long tenure as a brewmaster, brewing mostly German-style beers at the Los Gatos Brewing Company from 1992–2006.

As the largest wine and craft beer producer in the United States, it’s unsurprising that California is home to artisans such as Thacher with experience in both brewing and winemaking.

Crossovers

Kent Fortner and Ryan Gibbons, co-founders of Mare Island Brewing Co., trained as winemakers and met on a crush pad in Napa. The duo brewed their first beer, Saginaw Golden Ale, in 2013; its name is a tribute to the first ship built on historic Mare Island, which in 1854 became the first U.S. naval shipyard on the West Coast and inspired the brewery’s name (the shipyard was decommissioned in 1996).

In 2014, Fortner and Gibbons opened the Ferry Taproom on the waterfront in Vallejo, Calif., and have expanded to two additional locations in northern California: the Coal Shed Brewery on the Mare Island waterfront and the First Street Taproom in downtown Benicia. Although beer is the primary focus, Fortner has not entirely abandoned the vineyard.

“I started Road 31 [Wine Co.] over 21 years ago, making one solitary Napa Valley (Carneros) Pinot Noir and selling it almost entirely from the mailing list. I always say they’ll have to pry the pruning shears from my cold, dead hands one day.”

Gibbons was the first of the Mare Island duo to transition from grapes to grains. “I sent my resume over to Lagunitas [Brewing Co.] in Petaluma looking for a lane change within fermentation and ended up getting hired as a full-time brewer, where it has been no looking back since. I still love wine, still appreciate the art and seasonality of it, but love the community and creative flexibility that being a brewer affords.” And wine has a presence in Mare Island’s taprooms: they pour Fortner’s Road 31 wines and partner with Fifth Hill wines in Sonoma, where they make their own labeled wines alongside Mare Island beers.

“I never really dreamed of being a winemaker,” says Remy Martin, co-founder of Fogbelt Brewing in Sonoma County, Calif. Although Martin’s father, the late Dennis Martin, had a 30-year tenure as a winemaker at Fetzer Vineyards, perhaps a bit of teenage rebellion was the catalyst for the younger Martin’s attraction to beer. “I grew up in wine country and before I was legally allowed to consume alcohol, the easiest adult beverage to get my hands on was wine. It was a rare treat to get my hands on even the worst beer available.”

While working at a grape harvest in New Zealand, Martin and Fogbelt co-founder Paul Hawley started homebrewing and developing recipes in their garage. Martin officially caught the beermaking bug and went on to complete the Master Brewers Program at UC Davis, which is also widely recognized as one of the world’s most prestigious viticulture and enology schools.

The source material and final product may differ, but mastering fermentation is essential to creating beer and wine. “Attention to detail is critical in brewing, and while wine is a little more resilient (lower pH, higher alcohol, and lower residual sugars), carrying over brewing habits has been invaluable,” says Thacher.

“Absolutely,” responded Fortner at Mare Island Brewing Co. when asked if his winemaking background influenced his brewing. “Ryan and I have a shared winemaking experience, and our palates, vocabulary, and knowledge sprang from that.”

Gibbons adds that wine also influences their branding. “Our winemaking lens also plays heavily in our marketing and brand aesthetics as we are focused on bringing class and elegance to the beer space. A lot of times in the beer market, we see label designs and beer names that are super colorful and cheeky and sometimes crass for a reaction … we headed in the completely different direction.”

Compare and Contrast

However, Fogbelt’s Martin believes there is less crossover than people think in the production of beer and wine. “We used to make more barrel-aged beers and there are some useful concepts about topping and anaerobic fermentation practices that have come in handy.” Martin also asserts that while vintage variation is generally desirable in wine, beer producers and drinkers have different expectations.

“Wine is celebrated when the crop year, or vintage, is conducive to making wine,” he said. “Beer is celebrated when it is made the same consistently and consumers know what to expect. Brewers are constantly producing beer, so there is not really a ‘slow’ time of year for us.” And while Martin occasionally has “a little snifter of Bourbon” or a glass of red wine, beer is a constant. “I drink a Fogbelt beer every day.”

In the Golden State, craft beer and wine are both power players, but a refreshing beer at the end of the day seems to be a popular thirst-quencher whether your line of work is fermenting grapes or grains. “The end of the day calls for a beer, for sure, whether I’ve been making beer or wine that day,” declares Fortner. And beer’s generally lower alcohol content, compared to wine, can also be a deciding factor.

“I’m at the point in my life and career where I like to enjoy a beer for its refreshing properties and not necessarily for the alcoholic effects,” says Gibbons.

And although winemaker Thacher’s brewing days are behind him, beer is still a big part of his life. “Luckily, I still have great connections in the brewing industry, and the beer hasn’t stopped flowing.”

The post It Takes a Lot of Beer to Make Good Wine appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

Milk may be the more effective antidote to spice since capsaicin is more soluble in fat than water, but for many, grabbing an ice-cold pint is a near-Pavlovian reflex. Spicy beers take that instinct a step further—playing both sides by cooling the heat while amplifying it, a maximalist approach that reins in the burn just enough to let it shine.

Laced with fresh chiles, hot sauce, powdered peppers, or even a whisper of wasabi, spice-laden beers are not just a gimmick but rather a flex of a brewer’s balance and restraint. The best ones don’t just burn for the sake of it. They build, linger, and transform. In a sea of taprooms saturated with hazy IPAs and lip-puckering sours, spice feels almost radical: an antidote to sweetness and a rebuttal to predictability. Here are some of our top picks.

A Michelada-Inspired Ale

Grimm Artisanal Ales: No Hands Now, Brooklyn, N.Y.

Lauren and Joe Grimm started Grimm Artisanal Ales back in 2013 out of their Brooklyn apartment kitchen, testing out small-batch recipes with local grains. In 2019, the couple introduced No Hands Now, a low-ABV sour ale loosely inspired by a Michelada. “The name sort of evokes the decision to do a weird trick which might be fun or fail disastrously,” Lauren said.

Even before you take a sip of No Hands Now, the illustration on the label catches your eye: Two men in matching jumpsuits ride a tandem bike with their hands up as if to say, “Look ma, no hands!” With chipotle chiles, lime, and sea salt, this small-batch beer offers a smoky chile aroma, a hint of cedar wood, and the bright zing of fresh lime.

Lauren explained that the beer begins with fermentation in their oak foeder, where many of their wild ales go to build up tartness and complexity from resident microbes that live in the wood.  When the beer is “ready,” it gets steeped in ancho and chipotle chiles and lime juice. Finally, the beer gets a dry-hop with lime-accented Motueka hops and a bit of sea salt. The ale pairs well with a range of dishes, including Korean fried chicken, ceviche, elote, barbecue, and even a sharp cheddar grilled cheese. A tajin rim is optional but encouraged.

If you like the tamed heat and citrus-forward flavors of No Hands Now, you might also enjoy 4 Noses Michelada Caliente, made in collaboration with The Real Dill pickle company, heady with serrano and habanero peppers, pickle brine, and Bloody Mary mix.

More Mild Than Wild

Birdsong Jalapeño Pale Ale, Charlotte, N.C.

Tara and Chris Goulet started the Charlotte, N.C.-based Birdsong Brewing Co. in 2010, when Conor Robinson, a co-worker at the bakery Tara worked at, began brewing beer. Soon after, the Goulets got working on Birdsong. When they first opened the taproom, they tinkered with infusing a handful of fresh cut jalapeños into their American pale ale since the malty notes of the APA worked better to offset the heat compared to IPAs—and Jalapeño Pale Ale was born. Their customers loved it, so the Goulets cracked down on making the beer at production scale.

“We just kind of winged [preparing it on a mass scale]…it turned out that it wasn’t so much figuring out the volume of peppers as it was the contact time for the peppers in the liquid,” Tara said. From June through November, which is jalapeño season, Birdsong purchases the peppers from a North Carolina farm. In 2024, the brewery used 400 pounds of locally grown jalapeños.

While 40 pounds of jalapeños go into each batch, a blend of Columbus, Galena, Fuggle, and Willamette hops lends some sweetness and a clean, fruity finish. Jalapeños are hotter than anchos, or dried poblano chiles, but since this brew calls for removing the seeds, the result is relatively mild, and its aroma brings a bag of jalapeño chips to mind. Birdsong recommends pairing the ale with shrimp tacos, raw oysters, or a giant soft pretzel with beer cheese. Bonus points if you also put the ale in the beer cheese.

For something with a more pronounced jalapeño kick, try Aviator’s Crackpot Kick Jalapeño Pilsner, a Bohemian-style, full-bodied Pils with more seeds and heat.

Hatching New Levels of Heat

Malibu Brewing Hatch Chile Lager, Malibu, Calif.

Malibu Brewing’s Hatch Chile Lager began, as all the best ideas do, as a gift. Co-owner Jill Ahrens wanted to surprise Ryan Ahrens, her husband and the CEO of Malibu Brewing, with something personal for his birthday in 2022—a beer that nodded to his New Mexico roots, where Hatch green chiles are a sacred treasure.

The brew team got to work, experimenting with the smoky, earthy heat of the peppers, and soon, Hatch became a taproom favorite. Over the years, the recipe evolved, picking up nuance and depth, and last year, Hatch Green Chile Lager took home gold at the Brewers Cup of California in the Chili Beer category (separate from the Herb and Spice Beer category, which features spiced rather than spicy beers; think oatmeal raisin cookies and black pepper with peaches), beating out Clandestine Brewing’s Thunder Ball and Two Ravens Brewery’s Smok’N Hot Blonde.

Hatch Green Chile Lager starts with Malibu’s Sand & Sea Mexican-Style Lager, a crisp, clean base, and then freshly roasted and peeled Hatch chiles join the party. A blend of hot and mild peppers lends savory and vegetal notes that allow the beer to shine without overwhelming the drinker. In the Malibu taproom, Hatch is the foundation for some of their beer cocktails, from a Spicy Ginger Mule to a Pineapple Brewrita.

“It’s a unique and versatile beer,”  Jill said. “It tastes great on draught and even better with a juicy smashburger.” Unsurprisingly, Hatch Green Chile Lager also enhances the flavor of Mexican and Tex-Mex dishes and goes well with anything with corn: think popcorn, corn nuts, cornbread, and even corn dogs.

A Slow Burn

Country Boy Brewing Nacho Bait Habanero Blonde, Lexington, Ky.

In 2013, a plumber accidentally wiped his face with a rag that Nathan Coppage, one of the founders at Country Boy Brewing, had used to dry the knife he’d used to chop 10 pounds of habaneros for the Nacho Bait Habanero Blonde Ale. “That is my favorite memory of Nacho Bait,” Coppage said. “I noticed a hole in my latex gloves… no sooner than I had grabbed another pair, the plumber came running and yelled, ‘What kind of chemical was on the rag? Is my face melting off?!’” Coppage continued, “It still burned like hell, I’m sure—but he knew he wasn’t going to lose any skin.”

Founded in 2012 by four Kentuckians, Country Boy Brewing keeps it simple with a focus on real ingredients without the bells and whistles. With their new Georgetown facility—the state’s largest brewery—even more of their lineup is hitting taprooms and shelves, including Nacho Bait. Like Malibu and Birdsong Brewing, Country Boy uses a core beer in its lineup—Cougar Bait, the brewery’s blonde ale—as the base.

“The habanero addition made the beer taste like ballpark nachos from our youth,” explained Evan Coppage, another co-owner and head of brewery operations. Nacho Bait, first brewed in 2013, is among the hotter beers on this list, but the hint of peach and mango balances out the serranos’ heat. A sweet, stone-fruit flavor coats the tongue before tingling in the back of your throat.

“We had [habanero] peppers from our home garden that were so hot no one could eat them. One of our owners decided to make a beer with them,” said Pete Weiss, marketing director at Country Boy Brewing.

“The funny thing about this beer is the spice level varies depending on the time of year,” he added. “In the summer, we use fresh habanero peppers, and in the winter, we have to use store-bought peppers—the summer homegrown peppers are always a bit more spicy.” But to keep a steady fruitiness, the brewery consistently uses 10 pounds per 10-pound barrel. The brewery’s only other annual spicy brew is Jalapeño Smoked Porter, made with jalapeño peppers and heavily smoked malt.

Weiss recommends pairing the beer with non-spicy foods such as French fries, fried mozzarella sticks, and cheese pizza, while its fruity components complement meat such as duck and pork.

Sweet Heat

Bell’s Brewery Mango Habanero Oberon, Kalamazoo, Mich.

Larry Bell founded Bell’s Brewery in 1985 in Kalamazoo, initially opening a homebrew shop where the first batch was brewed in a 15-gallon soup kettle. Bell’s later grew into a commercial brewery, and in 2021, it ranked as the sixth-largest craft brewery in the U.S. and Michigan’s largest independently owned brewery. But by the end of that year, Bell sold the company to Lion, a subsidiary of the Japanese Kirin beverage group.

Bell’s signature Oberon wheat ale debuted in 1992, and the company debuted Mango Habanero Oberon in 2020, which has since become the most frequently requested beer among Bell’s fans. This sweet-spicy wheat ale includes fresh mango puree, giving it a hazy orange hue and a slight floral taste punctuated with habanero powder.

“This beer has certainly taken on almost cult status,” said Michaela Eagan, public relations manager at New Belgium Brewing and Bell’s Brewery. “It’s largely made in small volumes and available at our pub, Bell’s Eccentric Café, which probably adds to the lore.” This mango-forward ale complements a plethora of South Asian dishes made with amchur, or unripe mango powder, along with zesty Thai, Cambodian, and Laotian fare such as green mango and papaya salads.

Festive, spiced beers have been around since the 80s, but truly spicy brews have carved out a following over the past decade. Across the country, breweries are turning up the Scovilles with contests such as the Carolina Reaper-laced Signal One Challenge at Maltese Brewing Co., a nanobrewery fittingly owned and operated by firefighters in Fredericksburg, Va.; and the Deal With the Devil Challenge at Burning Barrel Brewing Co. in Rancho Cordova, Calif., with both vying for the title of world’s hottest beer and exuding pure Hot Ones energy, glass of milk included.

For those chasing even more heat, we suggest Habanero Sculpin IPA (Ballast Point) and Ghost Face Killah (Twisted Pine Brewing), or kicking up your beer chili or beer can chicken a notch with spicy brews for a full circle (of hell) moment. No matter which state you’re in, odds are there’s a beer hothead nearby—and a flaming pint to match.

The post Spicy Beers Are Catching Fire appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

Part of the Plan

Live music was always part of the plan for Burial Beer founders Doug and Jess Reiser and Tim Gormley when they were conceptualizing their brewery, which opened in Asheville, N.C. in 2013. They built an outdoor stage at their main location in the South Slope area of downtown, and over the years have set about adding venues for enjoying both live music and their excellent beverages. Their Forestry Camp location across town opened in 2019, providing space for large outdoor concerts, and their 400-seat concert venue Eulogy came online in 2023, right next to the original brewery.

While Burial hosts a constant stream of popular underground and regional acts such as Deep Sea Diver and This Will Destroy You at Eulogy, this summer they’re hosting a series of concerts featuring larger indie acts at Forestry Camp, where they have capacity for 2,200 music fans. Future Islands played in May, followed by The Black Angels in late June and Washed Out in July. The live music continues in October with the annual Burnpile beer and music festival.

“We wanted different genres to actually stop in Asheville rather than going all the way to Charlotte or Nashville,” says Doug Reiser, who said they’ve hosted everything from rock & roll and bluegrass to jazz, hip-hop, and heavy metal. While he and Gormley are big fans of psychedelic rock, they recognize the need to host the range of styles their fans want to listen to, just as they need to brew what those fans want to drink. “You don’t just say, ‘Keep following my vision, my interests matter more.’”

Burial is one of many breweries that now operate as concert venues as much as they do traditional taprooms. While a solo musician playing covers on an acoustic guitar in the corner for tips is a common enough sight at brewery taprooms across the country, many breweries are going deeper, investing in staff, infrastructure, and scheduling to make live music a major part of their business model.

“We share our craft with other artists who have their own craft,” says Reiser. “I think that’s a crucial piece of stewardship that more brewers, winemakers, and anybody who’s part of the hospitality experience should understand and want to connect with.”

Collaborations Set the Tone

Three Magnets Brewing in Olympia, Wash.—a hotbed for music movements from riot grrrl to grunge over the years—got started hosting shows through a connection with a local record shop. Rainy Day Records reached out to them in 2021 to host a lawn concert for Michael Hurley, a Greenwich Village folk icon (who recently passed away), and an ongoing series was born.

Three Magnets has built its following around Self Care, their non-alcoholic beer line, and they named the series after their Scherler NA lager. Scherler Sundays now feature free live shows every Sunday afternoon in July and August, attracting cult acts such as Lavender Country and Swamp Dogg, and this summer they’re putting out a Scherler Beer vinyl release with live recordings from past events.

Three Magnets co-founder Nathan Reilly says they themed their series around their NA offerings both to show concerts can be fun even with non-alcoholic beer, and because they wanted to buck the trends for how non-alcoholic craft beer is marketed.

“The last thing I wanted to do was be a lifestyle brand,” he says. “We do have a genuine interest in music and a rich history collaborating with music. Our goal is just to do cool shit and hope other people think it’s cool, too.”

Beyond live shows, Self Care’s music collaborations have included a 24-pack of beer in which each can features a different image from legendary rock music photographer Charles Peterson (one of his shots of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain was featured in the latest season of The Last of Us), and one-off beers with Doug Marsh of Built to Spill and solo artist Rae Isla. The Paramount Theatre in Olympia connected them with musician healthcare non-profit SMASH Seattle to brew NA beers for live shows.

“We were able to get [former Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service frontman] Ben Gibbard on the hook for a collab for that, which was just the awesomest thing ever,” Reilly recalls. Three Magnets has also released some standard-strength collaboration beers as well, including the recent Free Things Are Cool, an 8.3% stock ale brewed to commemorate riot grrrl producer, DJ, and promoter Diana Arens, who recently passed away.

At Burial, Reiser says collaborations with musicians are his favorites, because they’re more experiential than technical.

“Beer doesn’t mean 300 years of brewing traditions and sourcing materials to [musicians],” he says. “It means their favorite thing to do 30 minutes before they go play, or once they get back to the tour bus, or their celebration after they record. You get completely out of the realm of everything we know about brewing and it’s about the final drinking experience.”

A Rural Destination

Stone Cow Brewery in rural Barre, Mass., has been hosting live music since it opened in 2016. Until a couple years ago, these were intimate shows held on their two small stages at the taproom. Stone Cow also happens to be one of the largest dairy farms in the state, with more than 1,300 acres of land. One corner of that includes a natural amphitheater on a hill. In 2023, they built a large stage there for hosting concerts and music festivals.

“The back section of our property is a special place—it’s beautiful,” says co-owner Sean DuBois. “You have a view of Mount Wachusett from there. It’s the best place on earth to drink beer and watch music.”

In July, Stone Cow will host the Party on the Back Forty music festival featuring Shadowgrass, one of the most popular bluegrass bands in the country. This will be followed by the Fields and Forest Forever music festival in August, and a show with U2 and Fleetwood Mac cover bands in September. Stone Cow will set up its beer trailer onsite.

“We have almost unlimited capacity back there,” says DuBois. “We’ve been getting about 1,000 attendees per show, and we hope to break 2,000 for these.”

While Stone Cow is in a rural area—DuBois says there isn’t a single stoplight in the six closest towns—the brewery has become a weekend destination for folks from Boston, about an hour east. There’s even a playground onsite for kids while their parents enjoy music and beer.

Hitting the Right Note

While musical festivals are a great way to get folks onto a brewery property for a day, some carry more significance than others. On September 27, 2024, the remnants of Hurricane Helene hit western North Carolina, devastating the Asheville area. Many homes and businesses were completely destroyed, more than 100 people in the state lost their lives, and thousands were without basic services—including potable water—for months. It hit just two weeks before Burial’s 12th annual Burnpile festival, which had to be canceled. Burial owners and employees spent weeks giving out free meals and drinks at the brewery.

On October 4, Burnpile will return, and Reiser says it will have extra significance for everyone involved.

“I don’t think we would have started Burial if we weren’t going to talk about the difficult, the darkness and the light,” he reflects. “This year’s Burnpile is literally days after the anniversary. What does additional programming in between the bands look like in order to make sure we celebrate the people who joined arms and put this community back up and running?”

It’s not a question Reiser and his fellow co-founders have answered just yet. Whatever they decide on, it will center the human connections the brewery was built on, which Reiser says have often been catalyzed by great music.

“I think people sometimes underestimate how important the ambiance of a proper third place is,” he says. “I got into beer because of the taprooms. I love that experience that draws us together and helps us find our best moments and sometimes helps us connect with people who will change our lives forever. Without the right tunes, it kills it.”

The post Pour the Beer, Cue the Band appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

From 2011 to 2017, the industry experienced a nearly 500% increase in sales, fueled by significant investments from major national beer brands, especially Boston Beer Company’s Angry Orchard. Regional cider brands such as Stem, Schilling, and Blake’s have expanded their national presence, and smaller growers and producers are continuing to push the boundaries of the category.

The cider landscape continues to evolve. Makers are adapting to new apple varieties such as Cosmic Crisp, while others are turning to different fruits to craft unique co-fermented ciders to expand flavors. These cidermakers are finding utility in what might otherwise be undervalued or underutilized crops.

Cidermakers have long valued high-quality raw ingredients and the role of terroir in the finished product—there are more than 15,000 documented varieties of apples in North America. Deciding what goes into the bottle or can makes a significant difference. Each variety needs to be thoughtfully considered to build the desired cider, whether a light and breezy patio pounder drawn from culled eating apples such as Fuji or Northern Spy, or a deep, rich cask of bittersweet scrumpy made with Ellis Bitter and Porter’s Perfection by way of Western England.

All About the Apple

Cider has always been about fruit, but just as the beer industry has drawn from historic recipes and traditions to fuel its recent revolution, cider is expanding upon these thousands of varieties to make complex and exciting beverages. Cider’s position as the awkward sibling to beer and wine has allowed cidermakers to break convention, bend the rules, and use cider as a canvas for experimentation. Advancements in orchard management, selection, and cellar practices have raised the game for cider flavor.

Renewed interest in cider has rekindled research by both commercial and academic interests. Michigan State University’s research into red-fleshed apple genetics has helped improve the growing and fermenting of these apples. Meanwhile, the Cider Institute has helped to educate a generation of cidermakers in techniques.

Beyond these formal settings, thousands of cider experiments have helped turn cidermakers onto macerations, pet nat (naturally bubbling), malolactic fermentation, and other methods that would have been unthinkable a decade ago. Cider is now more purposeful from orchard to taste buds, with more nuanced flavors and more effective ways of communicating what is in the bottle to the consumer. Like cidermakers, brewers are also becoming more intentional in sourcing ingredients that speak not only to the style they wish to produce but to their own local foodshed and terroir.

Modern cider, found in most supermarkets nationwide and characterized by its fruit-forward, easy-drinking style, is almost exclusively made with eating apples, but has experienced continued innovation as producers pack more flavor into every quaffable can. The Pacific Northwest, with its proximity to Washington’s vast orchards, remains the heartland of this style. Around 60% of the nation’s apples are grown in Eastern Washington.

Cosmic Crisp, developed by Washington State University, was launched in 2019. Dave Takush, co-owner and head cidermaker of 2 Towns Ciderhouse in Corvallis Ore., praised Cosmic Crisp’s gooseberry and Sauvignon Blanc-like notes and its high sugar and acid content, making it ideal for fresh-fruity modern-style cider. In 2024, 2 Towns was recognized as the inaugural Cidermaker of the Year at the Great American Beer Festival.

Takush considers Cosmic Crisp a valuable addition when used alongside established varieties such as Gala, Honeycrisp, Fuji, Pink Lady, Granny Smith, Braeburn, and Golden Delicious. Even the much-maligned Red Delicious, more often associated with a mushy school cafeteria snack than a delicious treat, can contribute valuable fruity flavors and subacid components to blends.

Cosmic Crisp was only about 1% of Washington’s apple crop when it was first released. Now, it’s nearly 10%. The variety is the basis for 2 Towns’ line of imperial ciders, giving the rich, full-bodied beverages a strong backbone of flavor, texture, and aroma. Just as brewers use malt, yeast, and hops to create flavors, textures, and aromas in beer, Takush stresses that all cidermakers need to understand the varieties of apples going into their ciders.

Finding Its Own Terroir

For the last 200 years, North American apple growing has been focused on growing apples for eating. In Europe, however, tannic apples better suited for beverages than pies never went out of fashion. The first generation of American cidermakers in the 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s, such as Farnum Hill in New Hampshire, Red Barn in Washington State, and Foggy Ridge in Virginia, adopted these imports as they drew inspiration from cidermaking regions in Europe, just as mid-century California wine pioneers looked to the great regions of Bordeaux and Burgundy for varieties for their own cuvees, turning their noses at hybrids and the readily available table grapes that winemakers had used across America for centuries.

The push for growing historically tannin-rich European apple varieties in North America has seen mixed results due to differences in climate. Consequently, cidermakers are increasingly exploring indigenous apple varieties, both new and old. Winter Jon apples were once grown in the Appalachian Mountains in northern Georgia because of their late harvest and long storage capacity through the winter. Before the advent of cold and controlled atmosphere storage, these varieties were highly prized for their endurance. This full-flavor apple is a boon for Southeastern orchards struggling with a warming climate and other environmental pressures. Other varieties, such as the recently discovered seedling Nailbiter from Vermont, were found on lonely country roads, maturing without human involvement and proving to be well-suited for their environment once they reach maturity.

Producers of all sizes are using these new apple varieties. Stark Bro’s, one of the largest and oldest commercial nurseries, introduced the Franklin apple from Vermont in 2017, promising the desirable characteristics of European cider apples with greater resilience suited for the American climate. The apple was adopted by many growers, who continue to experiment.

The larger cider community has found itself with two camps: those making cider with eating apples and those using traditional cider apples. But that line is becoming increasingly blurred as cidermakers experiment beyond European tradition and create beverages that speak to their terroir, history, and resources. Many California wineries, facing a string of smoke-tainted grape harvests due to wildfires, have introduced cider into their portfolios. Natural wine producers such as Ashanta Wines and Horse & Plow in Sonoma County have brought their fermentation expertise to apples originally planted without any intention of becoming cider.

Varieties such as Gravenstein and Newtown Pippin are two of the most widely planted varieties in California, and while they’re top-tier eating apples, their profile as cider apples has increased as cidermakers learn to make better use of them. When treated with bâtonnage and judicious oak, Newtown Pippin can resemble Chardonnay on the nose and palate, with delicate orchard fruit and baking spice notes.

Branching Out

Rose Hill Farm was established in New York’s Hudson Valley in 1798, but its cutting-edge co-fermented ciders are anything but old-fashioned. Along with apples, the farm produces peaches, apricots, plums, cherries, and blueberries, all of which Rose Hill’s cidermaker, Matthew Sanford, transforms into exciting beverages that appeal to natural wine and farmhouse ale fans alike.

Sanford’s motto for cidermaking is clear: “If it has sugar, ferment it.” Sanford has been a proselytizer of co-ferments and using different fruits to create beverages such as Quincy, made from quince and apples, and Jerkum, a blend of apples and stone fruits such as plums, apricots, and cherries.

Sanford’s experimentation is not limited to fruit. He’s collaborated with Hudson Valley breweries such as Arrowood Farms and Plan Bee to produce Graf, a blend of cider and malt named after a similarly described beverage in Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. Graf made with Plan Bee was bottle-conditioned and disgorged, creating pearls of energy bursting with brioche and baked apple notes akin to aged Champagne—a far cry from Redd’s Hard Apple.

Sanford is unapologetic when it comes to taking risks in fermentation, finding new ways to use the fruit around him to create compelling beverages. Rose Hill uses both decades-old and newly planted fruit for cider, wine, and beer. Old stands of sour cherries that once drew Eastern European grandmothers to the farm every June have found their ways into other beverages. This winter Rose Hill’s cherries were used for a collaboration with Brooklyn-based Korean rice wine brewer Hana Makgeolli: Beojju, a clarified rice wine fermented with sour cherries.

A Bright Future

Cider is a dynamic and diverse category and the industry is ripe for picking. Producers are often seeking inspiration from other beverages, with the pollination of ideas from the beer, wine, and spirits industries all helping cider grow and continue its maturation. The future of cider is promising as producers and consumers increasingly prioritize quality, terroir, and sustainable practices.

Cider’s growth in the past few decades runs parallel to that of beer. A dedicated vanguard of producers and evangelists raised consumer expectations and knowledge, and there are many cidermakers who began their fermentation career with grain before making the switch to apples. Many bottles of cider were passed around the early days of craft beer as an extension of English tavern culture, where pints of cider are drawn next to ales and bitter. Revisiting those past connections can help both cider and beer grow together, through shared innovation, markets, and communication.

The rise of craft beer has changed the way that Americans engage, drink, and purchase beer. American cider has smashed past its alco-pop past but is still working to reintroduce itself to the rest of the country and build a stronger cider culture. The road is long and uncertain, but it is better together.

The post The Surge of Cider appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

What’s a longtime craft brewery to do? The answer, perhaps: make whiskey.

“I think it was probably about a year-and-a-half, maybe two years into Trillium, that I turned to [wife and co-founder] Esther and said, ‘Boy, we’re about 90% of the way to being a whiskey distiller,'” recalls JC Tetreault of Trillium Brewing. Opened in 2013 in Boston’s Fort Point neighborhood, their brewery was one of the early success stories during the nascent days of hazy IPAs and long lines.

Could expanding a brewery’s beer portfolio to include spirits inadvertently bring more people back to the brewery to discover its beers?

As Tetreault has astutely observed, to make whiskey, you first need to make a mash, which is essentially a beer sans hops. Distill that beer then age it for a bit, and you’ve got whiskey.

Of course, it’s not quite that simple, depending on your state. For the Tetreaults and Trillium, despite having four locations plus a farm, they needed a completely separate distilling space, a completely separate license, and a vision for how to sell spirits to customers who had long seen them as nothing more than an IPA maker.

“There’s a big, broad world of beverages out there,” says Tetreault. “The good news for Trillium is that we had always endeavored to have this breadth of offerings, and we’re not just reacting to the situation.”

A Good Mash

An hour west in Charlton, Mass., another beloved brewery long known for its juicy IPAs has also gotten into the distilling game, and for a similar reason as Trillium.

“All good spirits start from a good mash,” says John Britton, who leads Tree House Brewing Company’s distilling program. He came from more traditional distilling-only operations such as St. George Spirits in the Bay Area and Ann Arbor Distilling in Michigan. “The best breweries in the world have what it takes to make the base for great spirits—how far they want to take it is up to them.”

But you could hardly say Tree House is struggling and that turning to distilling is a move of desperation. Founded in 2011, by the middle of the decade Tree House had become maybe the most acclaimed brewery in the country on the backs of beers such as Julius, Doppelganger, Green, Haze, and Bright. Today, they have satellite locations in Boston, Cape Cod, Deerfield, and Saratoga, N.Y.; a tasting room/golf course in Tewksbury, Mass.; and a 100-acre farm in Woodstock, Conn.

Since 2021, they have also been distilling, focusing on “grain to glass” spirits such as Old Growth Bourbon and Rye, both distilled exclusively from New England grains. All of their spirits start as mashes on the brew deck.

“[We] built out our facility with the same goal in mind as we did the brewery—to be able to create artful spirits at scale,” says Chris Conroy, Tree House’s spirits category sales manager.

Despite a recent spate of breweries turned distilleries such as Trillium and Tree House, this is not, completely, a new trend. A few American craft breweries have been distilling for more than a decade.

Setting the Pace

Oregon’s Rogue (established in 1988) began distilling in 2003; today they even copper their own barrels, one of the few places in the country to do so. Michigan’s New Holland Brewing (established in 1997) added distilling to its portfolio in 2005. California’s Ballast Point (established in 2006) opened San Diego’s first distillery since Prohibition—later known as Cutwater Spirits—in 2006; it was such a financial success that it was sold off to Anheuser-Busch in 2019. Anchor Brewing, regarded by some as America’s first craft brewery, began distilling operations in 1993 with its release of Old Potrero, a single malt rye whiskey.

“I think it was another mountain to conquer and another creative interest to pursue in the drinks industry,” recalls Bruce Joseph, who had started as a brewer at Anchor Brewing 45 years ago before becoming the first master distiller at Anchor Distilling (which is today known as Hotaling & Co.) “The skills I learned as a brewer provided a very solid foundation for whiskey distilling; in fact, about the only new equipment we needed to start distilling was the actual still.”

However, it’s admittedly not quite as simple as distilling beer recipes brewers have been using for a while.

“We’ve got beer recipes that will remain beer recipes and not be the same as our whiskey mashes, by and large,” says Tetreault, noting how whiskeys often use mostly unmalted grains.

Branching Out

But these breweries are not only producing whiskey either. Anchor would eventually become more renowned for its Junipero Gin, arguably America’s first craft gin. Tree House makes everything from rum to fruit brandies to nocino, absinthe, and even shochū (a rice-based distillate more typically seen in Japan). They’ve been able to utilize their existing canning lines to can RTDs such as a Tom Collins, G&T, and even a Paloma, featuring not tequila but their house-distilled agave spirit, Casa de Árbol.

“These [canned cocktails] have enabled us to help bridge the divide between beer and spirits, attracting more people to ‘jump the aisle’ and try something new in the same price range as beer,” says Conroy.

Finback Brewing in New York has a wildly successful gin program under the Halftone label, some made with hops similar to the ones in their beers. 3 Floyds began distilling in 2017, producing spirits such as Bubblegumhead that offer nods to the metal beers that made this Indiana brewery a sensation a decade ago. Trillium currently offers gin, vodka, rum, various amaro and vermouths, and orange liqueur.

“[Producing] each individual spirit is a different discipline in a broader sense than different styles of beer, which I find very challenging,” says Tetreault. But he’s not just doing it for a challenge. Under Massachusetts’ laws, if he wanted to be allowed to offer cocktails in his tasting rooms, he’d need to produce all the elements that went into them.

It has inadvertently been a savvy move for attracting business, allowing Trillium to turn the second floor of its Fort Point taproom and restaurant into the Headroom Hi-Fi Cocktail Lounge. That space has, in turn, lured former Trillium fans who have aged and moved beyond beer, attracting late night, post-dinner crowds while also drawing in a younger cohort that has no interest in beer—and, quite frankly, had never even heard of Trillium when it was just a brewery.

“I have no ego associated with this at all,” says Tetreault. “It just makes me smile when we have new folks into the space and they just look around and say, ‘Oh, my God, I had no idea this [brewery] was here.'”

The post Craft Breweries Take a Shot at Whiskey appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

But craft beer has due claim to terroir; malt, yeast, and water live in agricultural abundance, delivering the unique flavors and aromas of the source to a finished product. Hops are most particularly terroir driven. Citra grown in the Yakima Valley evokes the lush, ranging hills of Southern Washington while Saaz, most commonly grown in the Czech Republic, transports drinkers to the Bohemian greenscapes where Pilsners were first sipped.

Today, there is no family of hops more in vogue than those coming from New Zealand. Pull the tab on an ale hopped with Riwaka, Nelson, or Motueka and even those uninitiated in olfactory evaluation can sense something unique with the application of NZ hops.

“New Zealand has a catalog of higher intensity hops—not just Nelson and Motueka, but Riwaka, Peacharine, Nectaron, and Pacific Sunrise—that deliver in the same way as American hops,” says Jude La Rose, owner of Hop Butcher, a Chicago-based brewery acclaimed for its hop-forward brews. “They deliver on citrus, they deliver on tropical, and then they get into this cool-climate wine character. There’s something terroir-driven that I’ll be able to pick out.”

The Rise of NZ Hops

New Zealand hops came into prominence in the American craft beer scene with the release of Alpine Beer Co.’s rye IPA, Nelson, aptly named after the hop originating from the eponymous town in New Zealand’s hop-producing Moutere Valley. Nelson Sauvin hops are instantly recognizable, with a pungent, grassy character reminiscent of cool climate Sauvignon Blanc, hence Sauvin. This white grape quality is often the first descriptor used to characterize the aroma of NZ hops.

Motueka, named after a town just north of Nelson, shares this distinctive white grape character while bringing notes of candied lime and blueberries to the party. Newer cultivars such as Nectaron, Peacharine, and Superdelic are similarly sought after for their own unique aromatic expression of the region.

Of these cultivars, the elusive Riwaka is perhaps the most exciting, prized for its dank-grassy and bright, pink grapefruit aromatics. Of Riwaka growers, there is perhaps none more dedicated than Eggers Hops, an independent hop farm run by sixth-generation hop grower Kem Eggers. Located in the upper Moutere Valley, Eggers creates distinction amongst a lean selection of varietals via immense harvest windows, producing early and late selections that could be mistaken for different hops altogether.

“It comes down to the harvest window and what can be done between early selection vs. late selection,” Eggers explains. “In the past, hops have been homogenous, blended. What we’re doing is harvesting, kilning, and processing quickly into pelletizing and we’re not blending—we’re segregating our lots by harvest date and block.”

These distinctions amidst lot and harvest date have allowed Eggers to apply the principles of time and appellation seen in winemaking to hop cultivation. As a result, brewers have an unprecedented level of specificity when making selections. The best example of this can be seen in Eggers Special, a select harvest of Riwaka hops determined by Eggers to be the finest on the farm. The uniqueness of this selection, stemming from the precise timeframe and location from where these hops were picked, has gained immense praise from brewers.

“Some of the Riwaka that I got from him is actually so late harvest that the pellets are yellow because they are so incredibly overripe,” says Adam Rosenthal, brewer and owner of New York’s Wayward Lane Brewing. “When you smell these [pellets], you think ‘Holy shit. Intensity on a whole other level.'”

Dialing It In

New Zealand’s climate and geographic protection are a hop grower’s dream, giving them the freedom to extend harvest windows and allow hops to develop their signature character. Cool summer growing seasons encourage the production of alpha acids within hops while protecting them from developing less desirable late-harvest flavors such as onion and garlic.

New Zealand’s isolation is another strength.”Being an island nation, very cut off from the rest of the world, their hops just haven’t really developed disease in the same way [as other hop-growing regions]. They have a huge advantage in that they can grow more organically because they’re not dealing with the same kinds of pests,” says Rosenthal.

This lack of disease pressure has allowed New Zealand to use sustainable methodology, implementing low-intervention techniques on their farms en route to becoming the largest organic hop producer in the world. Rather than relying on tractor mowers, swaths of sheep flocking bine-to-bine is a common sight amongst New Zealand hop yards, as the sheep naturally defoliate the bases of bines and graze on the cover crops planted amidst the trellises, which in turn assists in ensuring consistent soil structure, nutrient cycling, and water filtration. Low-emission hot water radiators are used to kiln hops before pelletization, preserving flavor and ensuring shelf stability. Even the most infamous pest present in NZ hop farms, the two spotted mite, is naturally remedied by the introduction of a second, predatory mite that feeds on its two spotted cousin.

U.S. brewers have found unique applications for New Zealand hops and a causal relationship has formed between the progression in brewing techniques and the advent of advanced NZ hop products. Brewers have begun to push the limits of flavor with these products, using them in conjunction with standard hop pellets to create more aromatic hoppy beers. Due to its neutral yeast profile and sturdy malt backbone, IPA has become the primary laboratory for these forays into hop saturation, particularly those of the hazy variety.

“Since their application worked so well, it allowed hazy IPA to continue to develop and push further. Take a look at all the advanced hop products—they show that there was a market for these hops in T-90 [pellet] form and now concentrated versions [of these hop products] continue to saturate and push flavor,” said La Rose. “The bar was raised.”

These hop extracts are based in the process of cryogenically freezing and isolating lupulin, a powdery substance found in the yellow glands of the hop cone. These lupulin isolates offer brewers a concentration of alpha acids and essential oils, which enhance aroma while reducing loss, as the products contain no rough plant material. Products like Cryo Hops®, Hyperboost from Yakima Chief, and SubZero Hop Kief from Freestyle Hops have taken the market by storm. Seeing New Zealand hops being used for these hop extracts is a game changer in the world of hoppy beer. “We’ve loved playing with different varieties [of these products] and [Freestyle] is one of the only producers that actually gives you lot-specific extracts,” says Rosenthal.

As craft beer continues to evolve, this lot specificity and technical advancement—not just with hops but with malt, yeast, and water—is the through line to the terroir that defines the beverage. Growers like Kem Eggers and brewers such as Rosenthal and La Rose offer a portal to a world thousands of miles away via the terroir that they tap into on a daily basis. While New Zealand cultivars have already left an imprint on U.S. craft beers present and future, the surface has barely been scratched.

“I don’t believe the majority of U.S. [brewers] have actually experienced the variety of New Zealand cultivars,” said Eggers. “They haven’t experienced the possibility of, say, Nelson and the variants out there. There’s a lot of room for Nelson, Motueka, and others [to grow in the U.S. market].Our challenge is to get more NZ hops in the U.S. craft beer scene and educate brewers and consumers.”

The post Tapping into New Zealand Hop Terroir appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

Before my daughter was born, beer was … fine. But suddenly, when I couldn’t have it, it became fascinating. I’d ask my husband to order the most intriguing saisons, the juiciest IPAs, just so I could sneak a whiff or savor one tiny sip. When I became a mom, something shifted. Craft beer wasn’t just a drink—it became part of my evolving identity. It was a little rebellion, a little indulgence, and a way to connect with myself in the whirlwind of new parenthood.

That’s the thing about beer, from crafting to enjoying. It’s about more than just a beverage. It’s about belonging. It’s about making time for pleasure in the relentless scramble of new motherhood. And for these moms, it’s about building community and creating meaning.

This article provides a snapshot of three women who’ve carved out their place in the craft beer world while raising children. Whitney Selix of Lua Brewing in Des Moines, Lindsey Mrav of Grain & Grit Beer Co. in Hamilton, Ontario, and Amanda McLamb of Resident Culture Brewing in Charlotte, North Carolina, are redefining what it means to be a brewer, a business owner, and a mom.

A Newborn, a Brewery, and a Toddler

For Whitney Selix, co-owner of Lua Brewing, the craft beer industry wasn’t just a career path—it was where she felt at home in the world. She started in craft beer right out of college at the University of Iowa, eventually managing restaurants in her home state, while her husband, Scott, started brewing. Their shared dream became reality in 2019 when they opened Lua Brewing in Des Moines.

“I was nursing during interviews,” Selix recalls, juggling opening a business with parenting a newborn and a toddler. “There were times I’d have my baby in a jumper in the office or asleep on a pillow near the bar while I worked.”

Whitney and Scott made a conscious choice to make Lua a family-friendly place—because, for them, family is at the heart of everything. Their three kids—Kit, 7, Lawson, 5, and Lennon, 3—have grown up alongside the brewery. “Our kids run around like they own the place,” Selix laughs.

Running a brewery and raising kids isn’t easy. The hours are long. There’s no daycare open for a shift that ends at midnight. But Selix sees the value in what her kids are witnessing. “It’s good for them to see us working hard and building something.”

She’s also working toward broader change, advocating for family-friendly policies in the hospitality industry, making sure parents get the leave and hours that make managing work and family doable. “Parenting changes your perspective,” she says. Selix believes being a mom has made her both a better leader and a better person.

When work gets overwhelming, Selix finds that her family grounds her. “Motherhood has given me a deeper well of empathy, patience, and perspective that I never fully appreciated before,” she reflects. “I’ve learned to navigate chaos, pivot when things don’t go as planned, and approach challenges with more grace—all of which have made me a better leader.”

The activities involved with raising young children have also sparked creativity.

“Children’s shows are great inspiration for beer names,” says Selix. “Stay tuned for a beer named Dance Mode to be released inspired by a Bluey episode.” 

The brewery’s piña colada sour was conceived by watching one of her favorite episodes of the show. “Who doesn’t love the whole Dance Mode concept?” she explained. “The idea that you can flip a switch, and someone has to start dancing, is amazing.” Their new beer seeks to channel that same feel-good energy. “Kids are a great inspiration for the light in life, and keeping things happy when adulthood is so heavy,” she says.

The Mom & Pop Brewery

For Lindsey Mrav, co-founder of Grain & Grit Beer Co., the journey started as a hobby. Her husband, Joe, began homebrewing while Lindsey was freelancing as a graphic designer and raising their two young kids, Evan, 11, and Ella, 14, and Joe was working as a mechanical engineer.

In 2017, they transformed an old auto garage in Hamilton, Ontario, into Grain & Grit Beer Co. It took blood, sweat, and tears to transform the rough space into an inviting brewery. “We opened with a four-year-old and a seven-year-old,” Lindsey says. “It was relentless and hard.”

They envisioned Grain & Grit as a true “mom and pop” brewery—and not just because of who owns it. Their taproom isn’t just a place to grab a beer; it’s a space for events such as mom meetups, clothing swaps, vintage markets, and book clubs. (Lindsey pointed out that there are plenty of baby-centric events; she prioritized creating gatherings with moms at the center.)

“Being a mom goes hand in hand with what we do,” Lindsey says. “It’s made me better at planning, at juggling, at building community.”

She’s also focused on making the brewery a better place to work for other parents.  “We’re a small team, but we make sure people can take time off when they need it—whether that’s parental leave, appointments, or just the flexibility to be there for their families.”

Where Your Weird—and Your Family—Is Welcome

“I truly believe this is the best industry in the world,” says Amanda McLamb, co-founder of Resident Culture Brewing in Charlotte, North Carolina. “There’s such a sense of collaboration, kindness, and a rising tides mentality. [It’s] the heartbeat of everything I believe in.”

McLamb’s love for gathering around food and drink runs deep. Growing up in the U.S., many of her memories are centered around big family meals—her grandparents, who immigrated from China, filling the table with food, conversation, and connection. Later, as a young traveler, a visit to the Guinness brewery sparked something bigger. “The process of fermentation, the history—it blew my mind. It brought together everything I loved: nature, agriculture, science, flavor.”

McLamb and her husband, Phillip, started envisioning a life centered around hospitality and community. They moved to Charlotte and found an old warehouse in a neighborhood full of shuttered buildings. They rolled up their sleeves, and together—with Amanda bringing her food writing background and newly minted real estate license, and Phillip bringing his expertise in project management—they transformed that warehouse into Resident Culture Brewing.

When they opened in 2017, their daughter Piper was just five months old. “We were two crazy kids in love with a wild idea,” McLamb laughs. “We opened a business and became parents at the same time. Both were intense identity shifts, full of extraordinary challenges and deep, hard labor, sometimes literally—I broke my tailbone giving birth to Piper.”

Eight years later, Resident Culture is thriving. So is their family, which now includes Isla, age four. Their brewery has become a neighborhood hub, a place where kids are abundant during Friday food truck nights, where regulars gather, and where innovation is baked into the culture. They even host one of the city’s biggest Lunar New Year celebrations—an event McLamb created because she wanted her daughters, and her community, to share in the culture that shaped her.

The brewery’s name itself is a nod to that sense of belonging. In fermentation, “resident culture” refers to the wild yeasts and bacteria that inoculate the sugary wort and turn it into beer. At the brewery, it also refers to the people who shape Resident Culture’s space—employees, customers, family, and friends.

McLamb doesn’t sugarcoat how hard it’s been to juggle motherhood, business ownership, and leadership—especially through challenges such as Covid when they chose to close their taproom days before they were required to. “The heavier responsibility of leadership is extremely hard, and I take it seriously,” she says. “But I love the me that was created out of all these hard times. I wouldn’t hit replay, but I wouldn’t trade who I’ve become.”

At Resident Culture, a sign sums up their ethos: Where Your Weird Is Welcome. It’s not just a slogan, it’s how McLamb shows up—for her team, for her family, and for the community she’s helped build, one beer and one wild, wonderful day at a time.

The post From Bottles to Beer: How Three Mothers Are Shaping Craft Culture appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

From neighborhood-focused taprooms to innovative brewing spaces with deep roots in local history, these emerging breweries are redefining what it means to grab a beer in Tampa. As the craft beer landscape evolves, so too do the breweries of Tampa Bay, offering diverse styles, inclusive spaces, and unforgettable experiences for visitors and locals alike.

Common Dialect Beerworks

Common Dialect Beerworks celebrated two years in Tampa’s craft beer community in January 2025. Situated on Florida Avenue—a street that has become a hoppy highway through the Seminole Heights neighborhood of Tampa—Common Dialect is a passion project of husband-and-wife team Mike and Kendra Conze. “The couple have worked to create a colorful and welcoming space, far from the minimalist and industrial-feeling breweries Tampa Bay is familiar with,” according to the brewery’s website. “Our goal is to be the go-to brewery for our community, providing an inclusive space where people can come together, share experiences, and find commonalities with one another.”

Mike asserts that Common Dialect is just that. “We’re a smaller, friendlier neighborhood place but we try to serve the bigger community and have something for everyone.”

Common Dialect’s beers are “more approachable,” Mike says. “We do everything. We’re more of a neighborhood brewery.”

Popular choices include Refractive Error, a hazy IPA; a Kölsch; and a Czech Pilsner. Mike, also the head brewer, says that he is “not as big into imperial stouts, but the brewery will tap a few from time to time,” along with Common Dialect’s award-winning Chiapas Porter, an imperial porter made with coffee, chilies, cacao, cinnamon, and vanilla, and several other dessert-themed beers for visitors with a sweet tooth or an adventurous streak.

Deviant Libation

Brewer Tim Ogden’s name has been synonymous with craft beer in the Tampa Bay for several years. Ogden was initially hired by the Hops chain of brewpubs in the 1990s and has been supporting other Bay Area breweries such as Cigar City Brewing and Tampa Bay Brewing Company with his talents ever since. Deviant Libation, which opened in January 2023, marks Ogden’s first foray into running his own brewery since becoming a brewer over two decades ago.

The goal for Deviant, according to Ogden, is “to open a place a little less typical to house these beverages that are often also a little less typical—something with appeal to more groups than a typical brewery may appeal to.” Ogden refers to it as “a space for the hardcore kids, the punks, the queer community; a space built with women in mind, as well as men and nonbinary folks—where members of the trans community feel safe and welcome just as much as anyone else.” He also described it as “a place that could be an experience.”

Ogden began rifling through his formidable recipe book upon opening Deviant and has wasted no time crafting remarkable beers such as The Crone Red IPA, Kiss of Darkness Porter, and Destruction Ritual Golden Ale.

Deviant Libation has also stepped up and helped the local community, making the small tasting room available for local and touring metal bands after Covid and adversity forced many small venues to close. “This has been a great symbiosis,” according to Ogden. “The bands have a place to play, and we can welcome people who might not have chosen to walk through the door.”

Late Start Brewing Company

Late Start Brewing Company has been planning a brewery in Tampa’s downtown district for years, and the team lived up to its name after repeated delays.

The brewery, which opened in September 2024, is the brainchild of three well-known Tampa brewers: Jordan Copher, Tyler Sankey, and Nick Streeter. It took three years to build the brewery in a former convenience store, and while it is still not a finished product, Late Start has begun making its mark on Tampa Bay as the brewery that is open the earliest (service starts at 8 a.m. with breakfast and coffee) with a menu that speaks to food lovers and beer enthusiasts alike.

The 2,500-square-foot facility on Cass Street in Tampa is home to Late Start’s 5-barrel brewing system, and the team has been thrilling visitors with its dedication to “classic styles and creative stuff,” according to co-founder and co-brewer Copher.

Popular beers include a pair of hazy double IPAs, Flagrant and Reckless. Sunset Junkie is the brewery’s core IPA, and Serious Moonlight, a robust porter, is usually on tap. A Belgian witbier will be in the rotation along with Cass Street Pub Ale, an English pub ale.

“As the market evolves, we have to evolve, too,” said Copher.

Copher says Late Start aims for “just all around quality, not being extreme on any level, and providing the most comfortable space for people to spend their time drinking their beers.”

Outcast Brewing Company

Outcast Brewing Company is the latest craft brewery to join the St. Petersburg brewing community in September 2024 in a space that previously housed two other craft breweries. According to owner Richie Hamm, the team was able to remake Outcast Brewing Company into a venue that speaks to everyone, no matter their preferred beverage. Outcast Brewing has a wine room called The Vintage and a room called The Lounge dedicated to craft cocktails and mocktails.

According to Hamm, Outcast Brewing strives to create a venue where people can get together to share live music, watch sporting events, or create other interactions that bring the community together.

“We want to be a community spot where people from anywhere can be, and that’s why our drinks are so varied, too,” Hamm said. “No matter who you are, what you’re looking for, or what your walk of life is like, there’s a spot you can feel like a part of what’s going on here. We want people to just come and enjoy being in their community, meet new people, and have a good time while drinking some good beer in the process.”

Sky Puppy Brewing

Veteran Tampa Bay brewer Matthew McKinnon had been urged by friends and family for many years to start his own commercial brewery, but he kept saying no, remembers Danielle Vergnaud-McKinnon, Matthew’s partner and co-founder of Sky Puppy Brewing. It took a chance meeting with artist and bronze sculpturist Copper Tritscheller before McKinnon began looking for a place to begin his work.

Initially, Tritscheller—whose sculptures are inspired by bats, also known as sky puppies— offered Matthew and Danielle a space to live in New Smyrna Beach while the couple was looking to build a brewery in the Atlantic coastal town. While they liked the beach and its potential, Vergnaud-McKinnon said they felt a pull from their ties to Ybor City, nearly 100 miles away. The duo evenutally found a space they could not turn down on Ybors City’s 8th Avenue. That space was the second firehouse ever built in the city of Tampa, dating back to 1888.

“One of the brewery’s longest delays,” recalls Danielle, “was getting the steel to reinforce the walls and make the building structurally sound.” After that, the duo continued to add touches to honor their connection with the building and its history, including a former bar and brewery called New World that was a neighbor to the current Sky Puppy space, where Danielle lived through some life-changing moments. “I had first dates [at New World], I went there after my grandmother’s funeral, I had my first legal beer served to me there. When they announced they were closing, Matthew committed to going every day for their last week. Then at the last call on the last night of New World Ybor City, Matthew proposed to me.”

With that many memories, the couple knew that there was only one space that could host Sky Puppy Brewing. “We knew that this piece of land or block in Ybor was just calling us back for a reason, and we wanted to preserve and give the community back something special.”

Then it was time to name the brewery. “To keep with [Copper’s] ethos about bats, Sky Puppy was a name that popped up,” Danielle recalls, “and we thought that those two words individually make you so happy, and together, it’s kind of cute and endearing.”

Ultimately, Sky Puppy Brewing became something more to Danielle and Matthew. “It’s a passion project,” asserts Danielle. “And I think that you can feel that when you enter the space.”

Sky Puppy Brewing opened in September 2024 and has been on a roll ever since. As for the beers, the taplist is a blend of the two owners’ styles, according to Danielle, who calls them “two different roads.”

Offerings include styles ranging from Vienna lager, double IPA, hazy IPA, schwarzbier, Czech Pilsner, helles, German Pilsner, and English porter.

“We get a little funky, too,” said Danielle. “We’re not scared to make styles we have been told don’t resonate, like a saison. Right now, we have a rye saison on tap.”

“Matthew and I both have a love for beer,” Danielle emphasizes, “and we want to inspire our team and our guests to be adventurous and try it.”

Wulfaven Brewing Company

Wulfaven Brewing Company is the first craft brewery in the Carrollwood neighborhood in Tampa. With its grand opening in October 2022, the brewery is a family affair with two generations of the Lazzara family collaborating within its walls.

According to the brewery, the idea for Wulfaven Brewing Co. started in 2017 when Joseph Lazzara and his father, Santo Lazzara, concocted the dream of one day owning their own brewery after being in the industry for a combined 30+ years. Two years later, the location was secured and the family hopped on board. Unfortunately, the COVID-19 pandemic would halt progress and cause innumerable delays.

Still, Santo and Joseph kept working behind the scenes. They broke ground on the brewery building in 2021.

The name Wulfaven is a combination of two words: wolf and haven, representing the family’s “pack” including friends, family, and community. Haven refers to the brewery’s safe space created for the community. The brewery aims for “crushable” beers, including Spring Fling, a Florida white ale with orange peel; and Tractor Pull, an American light lager.

Each new Tampa Bay brewery brings its unique vision to the region, blending tradition with innovation and offering something for every beer lover. Together with brewers across the region, the future of craft beer in Tampa Bay has never been brighter, inviting locals and visitors alike to share their enthusiasm for the beer community and the one-of-a-kind beer it continues to create.

The post The Fresh Faces of Tampa Bay’s Craft Beer Scene appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

In contrast, the image below: a simple pint and bottle on a concrete surface with a colorful background mimicking the label. On the bottom, the phrase “Alcohol abuse is bad for your health” is part of the message. This is also an advertisement for Brooklyn Brewery, but this one was made for the French market. If the brewery had released the joyful pictures at the beach, they could have received a fine for being non-compliant with the country’s Évin law, which restricts the way alcohol (and tobacco) producers can communicate about their products since 1991. Among other things, the law prohibits the association of alcohol with pleasure or sport in ad campaigns.

Luckily, Brooklyn Brewery has a French team (Brasseries Kronenbourg, owned by the Carlsberg Group, distributes their beer in France) that knows all about the do’s and don’ts of the Évin law and how to keep legislators satisfied.

But not everyone has the budget to have brand managers in several countries or to open breweries abroad—like Colorado-based Outer Range did in the French Alps in 2023—to facilitate exporting beer.

“Selling beer here in Virginia requires us to have marketing out there, to get people to understand our brands, to understand what we’re doing and what we’re making, and it’s so much harder to do that in a foreign market,” says Chris Smith, co-founder of The Virginia Beer Company in Williamsburg. The brewery exports to the U.K., Sweden, and the Netherlands.

For breweries wanting to export and market their beers overseas, dealing with the different European laws and regulations can be tricky. Surprisingly, other aspects of the beer export process go smoother than expected.

A Price To Pay

In 2022, 7.3% of U.S. craft beer exports were to the U.K., 7.1% to Sweden, and 5.2% to the Netherlands—followed by Italy, Ireland, and France. Those top three markets are also the main European markets for Qurban Walia, co-founder of Crafted Exports, an export and brand management company based in New York.

While Walia says breweries’ main concerns when reaching out to him are sales, growth, and the freshness of their beer, he’s looking at a bigger picture. “We have to understand what’s going on in the U.S. with all the breweries and what they’re [European markets] looking for,” he says. “But we also have to understand what’s going on in every international country that we sell to, and what’s happening in their beer market as well.”

With currency fluctuations and the U.S. dollar being stronger compared to most European currencies, pricing is also tough to navigate.

“Usually breweries sell at a lower price for international markets to try and offset the price of additional shipping costs, increased taxes, and then the currency,” Walia says. “It can sometimes seem like U.S. beer is very expensive, but it’s just because that’s the cost of getting it from here to there.”

Smith agrees. “If we sold [our beers] at our U.S. pricing, no one would buy it,” he says. “We try to make the beer as affordable as possible on the shelf to give it a chance, but that puts pressure on us and on our margin.”

And The Winner Is

Another  potential headache is compliancy with labeling legislations. In the European Union, there are some shared rules regarding alcohol labeling laws: mentioning the ingredients is not mandatory, nor is listing the calorie content for beverages above 1.2% ABV.

Some countries have exceptions, though: in France, the pregnancy warning pictogram size—which must be represented on every label, domestic or imported—is regulated. In Ireland, by 2026, alcohol products will have to mention the health risks associated with alcohol consumption on the label and anyone exporting will also have to comply.

“We work mostly with the breweries to update their designs, to make sure that they’re compliant with the specific country,” Walia says. Depending on the size of the order and the country the beer is sent to, compliance can range from applying stickers to doing custom cans or changing the whole label. And one important market for U.S. breweries is very specific on what it wants and doesn’t want: Sweden.

As in Norway with Vinmonopolet and Finland with Alko, Sweden has its own government-owned alcoholic beverage retailer for beverages above 3.5% ABV (4.75% in Norway and 8% in Finland): Systembolaget. Labels connecting alcohol with work, children, sports, weapons, traffic, or sexuality are strictly prohibited, which has led some breweries to redo their artwork. For example, the little hop character on the can of Captain Lawrence Brewing Co’s Effortless Grapefruit IPA had to lose its knife to make it on their shelves.

But before even being listed in a Systembolaget, breweries have to enter and win tenders categorized by beer styles. After entering three, Virginia Beer Company won the Summer IPA tender and started exporting in 2025. “The process is a little bit tough, but because we came in second place in that tender, our importer could pitch directly to Systembolaget for some additional beers,” Smith says. “We shipped a 40-foot container.”

Despite those rigorous rules, Walia says the Swedish market is one of his favorite ones to work with, and the tenders and blind taste test are part of the reason why. “They’re judging the beer, not how big your marketing budget is, but on the quality of the liquid, the quality of the beer,” he says. “That’s why there’s such an explosion of craft beer in the Scandinavian markets, because they’ve made taste the priority, not price.”

On The Bright Side

Breweries would not go through the trouble of shipping beer overseas if there weren’t a positive side to it. Against all odds, administrative procedures can be one of them.

“Even though it’s more expensive to ship beer to Europe because of the taxes, the governments do a really good job of making it very easy to work with the compliance and actually getting the beer through customs,” Walia says.

The compliance breweries have to deal with on a daily basis when selling their beer domestically is mostly taken care of by the exporters and importers, which is a relief in itself. “We’re asked why we don’t sell beer in some of our neighboring states, and it’s because we literally have to register it in every single state,” Smith says. “It’s easier for us to sell beer in France in so many ways, which is kind of ridiculous.”

Smith also says he was surprised to see how similar the European market was in terms of people’s tastes, listing “hazy IPAs, barrel aged stouts, and heavily fruited sours with a bunch of stuff in them” as a shared preference amongst beer drinkers. “I expected consumers to have different preferences than American consumers.”

While there’s a growing interest for craft lagers in the States, European consumers are still craving the haze. “All styles have done very well for us, but lagers tend to be a bit of a challenge, partly because Europe has so many great and very affordable lagers,” Walia says. “When people think about the U.S., they’re really looking for IPAs, whether they’re hazy IPAs or West Coast IPAs.”

New Concerns

Because of that strong lager heritage and low pricing, some markets such as Germany or Czech Republic still feel out of reach for U.S. breweries. Others that are more focused on bottles such as Italy or France have opened up, but with rising competition.

“The beer has gotten so good in countries like France that I think there are fewer people willing to pay the premium for American craft beer than there used to be,” said Smith, who used to export to France before his importer stopped doing business. “The number of importers has also decreased in a lot of these countries, so it’s become more challenging.”

While he has hopes of getting back to business in France and adding Italy to the list, it will have to wait. “Geopolitical issues right now have made it nearly impossible,” he says in reference to the Trump administration’s trade wars that are bringing questions and uncertainty.

At Crafted Exports, Walia has to deal with these new concerns from brewers. “I get a lot of calls from brewers who are trying to understand the tariffs,” he says. “They want to know how things are working from a political standpoint globally, and how that impacts international trade.”

In spite of this unpredictable situation, breweries, importers, and exporters still pursue collaboration. After a successful experience in Sweden in 2024, in 2025 Walia organized a road show to the U.K. with breweries he’s representing.

“[We brought] our beers there so that they can meet people from the brewery and understand American beer,” he says. “But also so the breweries can better understand the market and what they need to do to be successful in it.”

The post Across the Atlantic: How U.S. Breweries Navigate the European Market appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

After initially focusing on Japanese cuisine with a food truck called Wabi Sabi Kitchen, Cooper decided to open a sake brewery at home in Pennsylvania. Sango Kura opened in Delaware Water Gap in July 2018 and Cooper poured the first sake the following November. In 2022, he added Rewind Brewing, working together with his wife, Melissa Hirschhorn, to bring the vision to life.

Sango Kura serves a Junmai Ginjo sake that’s dry hopped with Galaxy and Mosaic. “It has the nose of an IPA and is floral and fruity,” Cooper explains. This, he believes, is a great way to get beer drinkers interested in trying something new. And offering great food alongside both beer and sake remains a key focus, with a menu consisting of izakaya pub dishes inspired by Japanese cuisine. “We make all of our noodles by hand,” says Cooper.

The brewery’s location in Delaware Water Gap is ideal: just as water quality is key to a fantastic beer, so too for sake. “If you look at a setting of a sake brewery in Japan, it’s always right on top of the best water source,” Cooper says. “The water has so much to do with the quality of sake, because the flavors are so light and delicate.”

Koji—cooked rice inoculated with a culture—is the stuff of life for sake. At Sango Kura, the team makes its own despite the intensive process. “We soak our rice, steam it, and then bring it into a sterile room that we heat up to about 100 degrees for about three days,” Cooper explains. He even stays at the brewery during fermentation so that he can make a quick adjustment if the temperature gets too hot. “It’s a really beautiful process.”

Craft Curious

In London, Kanpai (named for a Japanese toast) is a craft sake brewery that was founded in 2016. The brewery started life in Peckham, with a taproom launch in 2018 before moving to a new home in Bermondsey in 2023. The location among the densely packed cluster of breweries in what is known as the Bermondsey Beer Mile—a hotspot for craft drinkers on a taproom crawl—means more passing trade, especially on Saturdays.

“Because we’re on the Beer Mile, we’re more visible,” says co-founder and head brewer Tom Wilson. Kanpai’s draft-focused taproom creates an environment where beer drinkers feel right at home, and their regular tours offer an educational aspect for those who are curious about the sake brewing process. Wilson found a natural alignment with sake, craft beer, and natural wine. “It was always about having a really accessible craft product [for] curious, discerning drinkers,” he says. Their sake taproom amid a beer hub offers just that.

Kanpai has also collaborated with craft breweries. They worked with Surrey-based brewery By The Horns to produce Shiro, a Japanese white ale brewed with rice, shiso (an aromatic herb), and yuzu (a bumpy citrus fruit).

“What we’re serving on draft is what we call nama sake,” says Wilson, explaining that this version is unpasteurized and raw. It’s best consumed fresh, and better still on the premises on which it was made. “It’s very rare to get nama sake traveling outside of Japan.”

Kanpai’s range offers something for all tastes, from 8% ABV offerings such as a sweet plum sake, and another that is sparkling and dry hopped with Nelson Sauvin. There’s also a white koji sake that checks in at 16.5% ABV. “White koji makes citric acid, which yellow koji doesn’t,” Wilson explains. “It makes a highly acidic sake that kind of drinks more like a white wine.”

Many UK drinkers have encountered sake in sushi restaurants, but in a lot of cases, they are still new to exploring craft sake. And while many of the sakes imported from Japan can be more delicate, Wilson notes that many customers are quick to migrate to the heavy hitters. “First time, they might start with something light, and then they get more adventurous.”

Bridging the Gap

In Covina, Calif., Nova Brewing is another producer making both sake and beer, after taking over a former craft beer premises (once operated by REV Brewing Company). Nova’s Gravity sake is designed to showcase the state’s Calrose rice, which is polished to 50%. Polishing is the process by which outer layers of grain are milled away, removing protein from the rice which can impact the final taste of the sake. Less rice polishing could typically results in a full body and more umami flavor, whereas more polishing can produce a cleaner and lighter sake.

Nova Brewing was founded in 2019, and while the team waited for about a year to get a sake license, they began making beer. The team’s Ginjo 7 beer project was a mission to bridge the two beverages by brewing beer with sake yeast. “When I test batched making beer with sake yeast it created similar aroma and flavor profiles to Belgian style beers… a lot of fruity esters,” co-founder and head brewer James Jin says. An added benefit of using sake yeast for beer is not having to worry about cross-contamination when making both in the same facility.

The beer is brewed with steamed rice and a simple Pilsner grain bill, then fermented at cold temperatures as with sake brewing. The yeast, Kyokai #701, can easily withstand lagering temperatures. “Our goal with the Ginzo 7 beer was to get craft beer drinkers into sake more,” Jin says, adding that people will often come in for a beer flight and will typically also end up trying some sake afterwards, easily finding one that they like.

For Sango Kura, Kanpai, and Nova Brewing, making a conscious decision to engage craft beer drinkers is helping them take their sake businesses to new audiences. “We realized that we need to make what we call sake segue products, for people that don’t really know about sake, or those who think they don’t like it,” Cooper says.

The post Kanpai! How Sake Is Segueing into Craft Beer appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

Producer, writer, and NA beer enthusiast Jenny Allison set out to find answers. Formerly a devoted beer drinker, she quit drinking in 2020 and transitioned into the world of NA craft beer. Assuming that most NA beer drinkers weren’t fully avoiding alcohol (a correct assumption), she was curious to know which specific life paths, motives, and desires had led so many people to the same non-alcoholic shelves and menus.

The episode features stories from an array of voices, including an event producer in NYC who throws wild alcohol-free parties, a pro mountain biker in Utah, a retired beer aficionado in LA, and more, all of whom help shine a light on this rapidly growing, yet still largely unknown, group of people.

The Brewers Association and CraftBeer.com are proud to support content that fosters a more diverse and inclusive craft beer community. This post was selected by the North American Guild of Beer Writers as part of its Diversity in Beer Writing Grant series. It receives additional support through a grant from  Allagash Brewing Company.

The post Pouring a New Path: Stories from the NA Beer Boom appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

It’s a scene directly out of an English country pub—precisely as Hill intended it to be when the North Yorkshire-born engineer and carpenter built Broad Ripple Brewpub in the namesake bohemian neighborhood of Indianapolis in 1990. What was unintended was Hill essentially creating Indiana’s craft beer culture from the studs up. He just knew that it wouldn’t be a pub without the maltier, lower-carbonated English ales that were hard to come by in Central Indiana.

“I knew nothing about brewing, didn’t even homebrew,” Hill says. “I knew Gil Alberding, who went on to become a muckety muck at MillerCoors. He knew how to brew, and I knew what it should taste like. I didn’t want to taste them all, but I had to.”

With a tap list built on full-bodied English-style ales like the Monon Porter and the epic-if-simply-named ESB—but that also branched out into fruitier wheat beers, pale ales, and IPAs—and a hearty menu of classic UK comfort food and ahead-of-their-time vegan dishes, Hill introduced Hoosiers (as the state’s natives proudly refer to themselves) to the brewpub culture that was only just starting to bubble up on the coasts. Bangers and brown ales aside, the emphasis was on a warm and welcoming atmosphere with roots in the insular Broad Ripple community. “It was a big hit at the beginning,” he says. “There was nobody else around doing it.”

Of course, that changed as the 1990s progressed, with corporate brewpubs such as Rock Bottom, RAM, and Alcatraz coming to town, and a few local mom-and-pops popping up like Barley Island, Oaken Barrel, and Circle V. Even though Hill was the unwitting godfather of Indy craft beer, he didn’t shirk that responsibility. He supported all competitors, even when they started sprouting up in Broad Ripple just a few blocks away. Hill founded the Indiana Brewers Guild in 2000 and has since watched it grow to more than 200 members. 

Along the way, distributors, would-be investors, and even patrons have all tried to tempt Hill into opening satellite locations, franchising, and packaging. But he wouldn’t budge. “I said, no, you can’t. You can’t recreate this. It’s just a feeling,” he says. “Plus, I was too lazy to do it.”

The Dawn of Sun King

Hill’s devotion to the neighborhood model left something of a void in Indy’s burgeoning craft beer scene. Brewpubs continued to flourish throughout the metro, but most of them stayed small. While 3 Floyds Brewing (Munster) and Upland Brewing (Bloomington) built national reputations in other parts of the state, the capital city still didn’t have a signature label.

“We looked around and said, ‘Major cities have a production brewery, and there isn’t one here,'” says Dave Colt, who spent the late 1990s and early 2000s with one foot in craft brewing at Circle V and the other at the corporate RAM. “Maybe we could be those guys.”

The other half of “we” was Clay Robinson, whom Colt knew as a brewer at Rock Bottom. By 2009, the two seasoned (and slightly embittered) corporate brewpub veterans wanted to go independent—and they didn’t want to mess with food. After cashing in their savings and 401(k)s, with the help of some thirsty investors they launched Sun King Brewery, the city’s first production brewery since Indianapolis Brewing Company kicked in 1948—its lager only recently reborn as a Sun King year-round release. They started pumping out kegs of their flagship Osiris Pale Ale and two malt-forward flavors that seemed geared toward the local palates cultivated by Hill: Bitter Druid ESB and Wee Mac Scottish Ale.

Sun King’s breakout star, however, was a bit of a surprise—at least to its creators. Their first summer seasonal was Sunlight Cream Ale, a crisp and refreshing hot-weather crusher that served as a true gateway for Indy’s craft curious. “It was not intended to be our flagship, but we don’t always get to decide,” says Colt. “It’s what people wanted. It sold out; we made another batch. It sold out.”

By the end of its first year, Sun King was all over the city and had spilled over into nearby college towns like Muncie, Lafayette, and even Upland’s territory in Bloomington. Bars were quickly demanding kegs, which Colt and Robinson were still delivering personally. They produced 5,000 barrels their first full year of operation, 10,000 the following year as they started canning tallboys, and two years later, 20,000. Today, they’re the second-largest brewer in Indiana (tops is 3 Floyds), and they’ve opened a satellite location in Sarasota, Fla.

Exponential growth aside, Sun King hasn’t abandoned its hands-on, face-to-face approach. Robinson has moved to Sarasota to personally oversee that offshoot. Colt is still in Indiana, where he currently serves as president of the Indiana Brewers Guild. “The longer your tail gets, the more stuff gets lost,” he says. “There’s a diminishing return in full-on distribution. You don’t have much control over the product, with less and less control the farther away the beer gets. If you have a model where you’re hyper-local and can take care of your neighborhood, you’re in a much better position.”

Call it Kismet

When Nicole Oesch, two beers in at Upland’s South Broad Ripple satellite, declared “F–k it! We’re going to open a brewery!” her husband, Ryan, thought it was the alcohol talking. Then the permit applications from the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau showed up in the mail.

Nicole forgives her husband for thinking Kismetic Beer Company was a far-fetched idea. It was 2020, and even before pandemic shutdowns sent the beer industry (like all industries) into chaos, craft beer had already seen a dramatic slowdown in growth and a retraction in volume. Forces were afoot that would shutter dozens of Indiana taprooms and breweries in the coming years—15 in 2024 after 13 closures in 2023, including Indiana City Brewing, the brewery where Nicole cut her teeth in management and where she met and hired Ryan as a bartender.

Ryan was raised in Northeastern Indiana, but he was steeped in Central Indiana beer. His college landlord was head brewer at Upland, which was his introduction to local craft beer. He started homebrewing and moved to Indy, where Broad Ripple Brewpub introduced him to community brewpub culture and more full-bodied, malt-forward ales that weened him off macro lagers. By the time Sun King came around, Ryan was a fanboy in waiting. “I followed them wherever they went,” he says. “I’d travel for a Sun King beer. They had these limited releases, firkin pours, things you felt lucky to get a snifter of.”

Meanwhile, Nicole was living in California, where her beer horizons were broadened by Sierra Nevada. When she returned to Indiana, she left her corporate career to start a food pop-up called Broke Chicks Chili that would set up at area breweries and serve chili and walking tacos. “I fell in love with taproom culture,” she says. She picked up part-time work at local breweries to supplement the pop-up, but beer soon became her full-time occupation.

By the time of Nicole’s 2020 declaration of intent to open a brewery, both she and Ryan knew what they wanted to do—and what they didn’t want to do. They wanted to stay small in terms of production, with Ryan sticking to a 3.5-barrel system that allowed him to experiment and be nimble in rotating styles and flavors, while also giving them more control over the quality of product. And they wanted to be an old-school community taproom, so they invested in the long-neglected, formerly industrial Twin Aire neighborhood on the east side of Indy, near where they lived, that was starting to show signs of life.

Most of all, Nicole wanted to emphasize the taproom. They wanted a place that was welcoming to women and people of color—groups that hadn’t necessarily felt included in the Hoosier beer scene. “We wanted to be the brewery for everybody else,” says Nicole. “We thought that if you can make a high-quality experience for cocktails, why not beer?”

Kismetic is the embodiment of that sentiment, with throwback retro-futuristic décor; low, leather lounge booths; and a dominant centerpiece bar that wraps around, making it virtually impossible to avoid conversation with bartenders and fellow drinkers. Ryan has leaned into the cocktail theme with beers such as Martini Spruce Kolsch or Amaro Saison that miraculously balances a light licorice taste with other subtle spices. For purists, his Schwarzbier and Italian and French Pilsners are doggedly true to style. “We’re just making what we like,” says Ryan.

In other words, one of Indy’s newest breweries is embodying the ethos of its first modern brewery, opened by John Hill in 1990 because he wanted a place to drink cask ales and watch football on the telly.

“I don’t know if this approach will save craft beer,” says Nicole. “But we’re buying into the neighborhood pub atmosphere, that vibe that you have to go to the taproom to get.”

The post From Broad Ripple to Beer Boom: The Story of Indy’s Brewing Legacy appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

By the time we’re ready for indoor drinking again, brewers predictably swing back to  fiery cloves and other warming spices by way of pumpkin-spiced ales and Christmas beers. Spices—whether seed, fruit, root, or bark—have long been a staple of celebratory and solstice sips, but thanks to greater access to a broad spectrum of ingredients from around the world, brewers are expanding their pantries, infusing beer with sour sumac and numbing Sichuan peppercorns.

Spiced beers aren’t just waiting for an occasion anymore—they’re now year-round, tapping an ever-changing cupboard of craft brewing.

The OG of Experimentation

Thirty years ago, Sam Calagione co-founded Dogfish Head, Delaware’s first brewpub, bringing ingredients that were once considered “culinary” to the kettle. “Spices, herbs, and exotic fermentable sugars are at the heart of what makes our brand unique,” says Calagione. Six months before Dogfish Head even opened its doors, its fabled Punkin Ale won a recipe contest at Delaware’s own Punkin Chunkin championship, where pumpkins are competitively launched great distances. This catapulted Calagione’s appetite to include more than just pumpkin spice mix in beers.

From there, Dogfish Head’s Namaste White added black peppercorns to its coriander and clove sachet. The Most Comfortable Logger in the Woods, a Vienna-style golden lager brewed with wild blueberries from Maine, was bolstered by ginger, golden turmeric, and herbaceous sage. Goldenmilk Latte, an oat cream ale that emulates haldi doodh, a turmeric-tinged drink from India affectionately known as golden milk, tinkers with turmeric, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, and smoked star anise for a spice-forward finish.

But spices aren’t to be used haphazardly. Mark Safarik, Dogfish Head’s brewmaster, warns that with spices like cardamon that can be quite powerful, a little goes a long way.

“[Too much of a spice] can step all over everything, become one note, and not integrate with other flavors,” says Safarik, adding that it really depends on how much is used when and where.

When spices are introduced on the hot side, the brewing process prior to fermentation, the volatilization of flavor and aroma compounds of the spices causes chemical changes, according to Bryan Selders, Dogfish Head’s brewing manager and head of taprooms. “The cold side [fermentation, conditioning, and packaging] is a more pure expression of raw spice, like fresh cracked pepper on eggs in the morning, rather than seasoning soup while it simmers.”

Thinking Outside the Box

When Dogfish Head premiered its celebrated SeaQuench Ale in 2016—a combination of Kolsch, gose, and Berliner weisse elements—it was the unique combination of black lime and sea salt that stood out most to customers. The beer’s release coincided with the emergence of Burlap & Barrel, a single-origin spice company; it soon began supplying Dogfish Head with whole black limes. [Full transparency: I do some work for Burlap & Barrel.] Sourced from Guatemala, the black limes are cured and sun-dried.

“Typically, [black lime is used] whole in Persian stews,” says Ethan Frisch, Burlap’s co-founder, who notes that they sell their product ground. Dogfish Head wanted to work with whole black limes, so Frisch made a special allowance as Dogfish designed a machine called Busta Limes, meant to crush them into the exact texture they wanted for infusing, without any grainy particulates needing to be strained out of the beer.

“One of the challenges in adapting culinary spices for brewing is that flavors can act differently than when cooking,” reinforces Frisch, whose father was an award-winning homebrewer. He began making beer himself when working for non-governmental organizations in Afghanistan, saving used champagne bottles from fancy embassy parties to reuse later.

“Most commonly you see spices in darker beers,” Frisch observes. “I think the robustness of those flavors—roasty, malty—stands up nicely to spices, but I’ve seen them in sour beers [as well],” pointing to the traditional use of coriander in gose, but also iterations with cumin as well. Burlap & Barrel’s Wild Mountain Cumin was the first spice Frisch started importing.

Time for Tinkering

Sometimes brewers use spices to align the beer to the food it’s served with. At TALEA Beer Co. in Brooklyn, head brewer Eric Brown uses herbs and spices such as dried mint and mustard in a mango sour that tastes like mango pickle, as in the case of a lager he made last summer for a clam shack pop-up. The beer was made with lime and Old Bay seasoning. They rimmed the glasses with purple dulse, a seaweed.

In the summer, when sours are in high demand, TALEA offers a blueberry pomegranate fruited gose; Brown pulls a small batch and infuses some with sumac. “Citric acid comes from the fruit, but then there’s the malic acid in sumac that has a mouth-coating effect that you don’t get in most sours.” Their Weekender Lager series, displaying a duo of fruit and spice such as lemon cardamom, tangerine anise, and lime salt, are steeped similar to tea using muslin bags. Brown has also been tinkering with a universal brew tank, used for dry hopping, for faster flavor infusions. “It’s a recirculating tank with a filter column,” says Brown. “It’s on casters as well, so we can set it next to whatever tank we’re attempting to dose.”

Spices find life even after being added as adjuncts to a tank. Burial Beer Co. in Asheville, North Carolina barrels and bottle conditions its higher ABVs offerings—they brew about 45 imperial stouts each year. The Cursed Path of The Forever Unstill is an imperial stout coalesced with coffee beans, enriched with vanilla beans, and rounded out by cinnamon.

“Over the years we’ve used vanilla from almost every continent and find ourselves partial to the marshmallowy Tahitian and Coca Cola Mexican varieties,” says Doug Reiser, Burial’s cofounder. Regarding cinnamon, Reiser believes it “has a bad reputation of being hot and having one linear note,” but he finally found the right one from Vietnam. He says he’s able to use it in any type of beer, from IPAs to sours and of course, in stouts.

With that same kind of slight spiciness of cinnamon in mind, Resier went on to brew Walk Off Into The Unequivocable, another imperial stout that gets all roasty and toasty with cocoa nibs, is sweet and creamy from vanilla beans, but has a bite of Black Urfa Chili and ginger on the finish.

“Dried aged chiles have long been used to balance sweetness, akin to a mole sauce,” he explained. While the chile has heat, urfa also imparts a unique raisin/pineapple flavor profile. “The chile also balances acidity so nicely and could be the basis of a beautiful barleywine,” suggests Reiser.

The Sky’s the Limit

While single spices are certainly a focus, Lamplighter Brewing in Cambridge, Massachusetts, collaborates with nearby Curio Spice Co. to source spice blends for its beer. In 2023, its Belgian-style witbier called Deja Vu had the requisite coriander seeds and dried orange peel, but was fortified by French lavender and pink pepper berries.

In 2024, David S. Pumpkins, a nod to a Tom Hanks Saturday Night Live character, showcased fenugreek alongside the familiar allspice and cinnamon in a pumpkin spice mix. Rise Up, a wheat ale tinged crimson with hibiscus flowers, was seasoned with a spice blend called Fleur Spice (cardamon, pink pepper berries, hibiscus, rose petals, lavender, coriander, spearmint, and ylang ylang).

In the same spirit, Steve Parker, head brewer at Fidens Brewing in Albany, New York, has only just begun playing with spice—sumac and Wild Timur peppers, which are akin to Sichuan peppercorns, end up in red ale named Internal Energy. “I was very surprised about the amount of citrusy grapefruit flavor that carried over in the whirlpool, but the tingle doesn’t carry over,” he said. Parker hopped the beer with a little Chinook too, which plays well with red ales but also complements the citrus and pine of the pepper.

“I’m really just dipping my toes into the spice world,” Parker admits, leaning toward his larder for new inspiration, reaching past the proverbial salt and pepper for seasoning.

The post It’s Always Spiced Beer Season appeared first on CraftBeer.com.

(Ed. note: Our house style uses “draught” instead of “draft.” The two terms have the same definition and pronunciation. We like to keep it olde school.)

During calls to restaurants, bars, and taprooms, he’s found evidence of rats chomping through insulation to build nests or gnawing tap lines to lap up sugary beer. Some customers filled cooling systems with cheaper, toxic car antifreeze instead of food-grade propylene glycol. And during one gnarly job, he discovered a draught beer tower’s years-long leak, leading to thick layers of slime and grime and a lively insect infestation.

“I saw probably 300 cockroaches,” says Downey, an Advanced Cicerone who opened Draft Punk in 2019. These behind-the-bar jobs have led Downey to adjust where he eats and drinks. “When I go out now, I only go out to my accounts that care about quality beer.”

A brewery can write an airtight recipe, source top-shelf raw materials, and brew a flawless beer, but all those efforts are for naught if a draught system is dirty. A beer might taste metallic, or bacterial contaminations can add notes of vinegar, butterscotch, or butter.

“We’ve all gone into a bar and thrown down $10 for a pint of beer that you’ve wanted to try, and it tastes like movie theater popcorn,” says Nicholas Martel, a wholesale draft technician for Bissell Brothers in Portland, Maine. He prevents the disappointment of drinking subpar The Substance, the brewery’s flagship IPA, by cleaning customers’ draught lines. “It’s the last step of quality assurance in our product,” he says.

After a keg of beer leaves a brewery, the final lines of defense between delicious pints and drain pours are draught technicians. They service draft equipment by recirculating cleaning solutions through draught lines and disassembling and sanitizing faucets, ensuring squeaky-clean beers are served at ideal temperatures with ample fizz, not a drop wasted. A great-tasting draught beer can lead customers to order a second pint, or perhaps a third, adding dollars to a business’s bottom line.

“I’m selling a service that every bar and restaurant needs,” says Downey, who counts Stoup Brewing and Ridgewood Bottle & Tap as clients.

It’s a Dirty Job, but Some People Love Doing It

The world is messy. Mopping, wiping, polishing, and scrubbing might temporarily restore cleanliness, but smudges, footprints, and spills will inevitably sully surfaces; that’s when bacteria and fungi set up camp. From hoses to faucets, draft systems must be regularly cleaned with sanitizing chemicals, ideally every two weeks, according to standards recommended by the Brewers Association’s Draught Beer Quality Manual.

“I’ve been working in draught beer for about 25 years, and it’s always been one of the top priorities, if not the top priority, in draught beer quality,” says Neil Witte, founder and owner of Craft Quality Solutions, a Kansas City, Mo., consulting firm focused on beer service. (He’s also co-author of the Draught Beer Quality Manual.) “We need retailers to start focusing on quality.”

In more than two-thirds of the states, Witte says, distributors are responsible for cleaning draught lines; it’s up to retailers in the remaining states, a job that’s often farmed out to third-party companies.

Brooklyn’s Sean Lynch saw firsthand the need for clean draught lines while working in sales for a beer distributor and then a brewery. “More than 90 percent of the bars weren’t cleaning their lines,” Lynch says, too often impacting taste. “I saw an opportunity.”

In 2014, Lynch founded Draught Mechanics, in time building draft systems for Finback Brewery and Threes Brewing and cleaning lines for New York City’s growing ranks of breweries, including Strong Rope, Evil Twin, and Kings County Brewers Collective.

“I’ve been in a lot of basements in this city, that’s for sure,” Lynch says.

The coolers where kegs are stored can be hotbeds of mold colonies. “Every time you tap and untap the keg, there’s a chance something will splash out,” Lynch says. If the beer isn’t wiped off a surface, mold will grow. “No one cleans their coolers. The coolers are shockingly disgusting in some of the most high-end restaurants of this city.”

Beer isn’t the only liquid dispensed on tap, and draught-line technicians are finding opportunities beyond IPA. Carly Maughan, who founded Coastal Clear Taps in St. Petersburg, Fla., in 2023, also cleans lines that serve cocktails and coffee, plus drinks containing kava and kratom.

“They’re very big down here,” says Maughan, who first became interested in cleaning draught lines while bartending at LIC Beer Project, a since-shuttered New York City brewery. She enrolled in a three-day training course (“I was the only female,” she says), before eventually landing a job with Draft Choice, a line-cleaning company in NYC.

“I fell in love with it,” says Maughan, who views dirty tap lines as a disservice to brewers’ hard work. “That’s where I come in, and that’s what made me feel like this work is incredibly important.”

If You Want Clean Lines, Do It Yourself

Draught beer has yet to fully recover from the pandemic lows of closed bars and restaurants. An estimated 7 to 13 percent of America’s installed draught lines are not pouring beer, according to Draftline Technologies, which monitors more than 1 million draught lines.

Fewer kegs sold means less money for distributors, and as a result, “line-cleaning teams are stretched thin,” Witte says. “I’m seeing more accounts that are on a three- or four-week cleaning cycle.”

Instead, some beer-focused bars are taking cleaning into their own hands. “We don’t let anyone else touch our draught lines,” says Drew Watson, co-founder of Hops & Pie in Denver. The beer-focused pizzeria has 30 lines of always fresh, always excellent craft beer from breweries including Russian River, Allagash, and Westbound & Down. Hops & Pie cleans each line after changing kegs and thoroughly sanitizes its entire system every three weeks.

“Our regimen is nonstop,” Watson says.

Most beer lines use clear vinyl tubing, and the relatively porous material and susceptibility to flavor and bacterial contamination means that the tubes should be replaced every year or two, according to the Draught Beer Quality Manual.

At the Courtyard Brewery in New Orleans, which only sells draught beer and crowlers, owner Scott Wood regularly performs a visual inspection of the lines, marking ages in a calendar. “We replace hoses every month to two months,” Wood says. “For the cost of less than half a pint, we make sure that we have clean lines at all times.”

Even with a fastidious cleaning protocol, bacteria and biofilm can still find an overlooked crevice. For a while, a funky glassware smell flummoxed the Courtyard crew before it discovered that the glass rinser sprayer had a biofilm buildup. Now the brewery breaks down the glass spritzer nightly.

“That’s part of our draught system,” Wood says. “There are so many small parts where things can go wrong.”

Craft breweries that self-distribute beer, such as Bissell Brothers, also take extra steps to ensure beers taste great. Martel spends five days a week on the road visiting accounts across Maine, cleaning taps at anywhere from eight to 15 places daily.

“It’s a last step of quality assurance in our product,” Martel says. “It’s the reassurance that our product is being presented the best way it possibly can.”

Line cleaners are essential safeguards ensuring customers receive tasty pints. They often work when bars, restaurants, and taprooms are closed, scouring dark and damp nooks and crannies, toiling in anonymity, serving as foes to microbes and friends to great beer. “Most people don’t even realize that my job exists,” says Draught Mechanics’ Lynch, who has kept many clients for the last decade.

“It’s not a matter of doing the right thing,” he says. “It’s a matter of being able to sell beer that tastes good.”

The post Drafting a Solution: Inside the Dirty World of Cleaning Tap Lines appeared first on CraftBeer.com.