From 2005: "TRAVEL PRELUDES: Poperinge and a date with Westvleteren."

I'm sore because the pandemic postponed Poperinge's Beer and Hop Festival, and so this week I'll be flooding the blog pages with reruns of past visits, such as I can remember them. They never taught memory loss at beer pioneer school.

Three views from 2005. Diana and I rode into Poperinge from the coast; we stayed in Ieper and rode the train back and forth to the hop fest.

Guy, the co-owner (with his wife Bea) of the Palace Hotel, was serenaded on the occasion of his 60th birthday.

Hops on the cycling route into Poperinge.

One slice of color from the parade.

In 2005 Diana realized she liked beer after all. Certain kinds, that is. The revelation came in Brugge, when she absconded with my Trappist ale, a Rochefort 10, during our session at t' Brugs Beertje.

Hence this dispatch from Poperinge, where she closed the deal. It was dated September 22, 2005 and written following our return home for publication at The Potable Curmudgeon.

---

In the grand tradition of beer advertising, we've chosen a beautiful woman to display the product being touted.



Trust me - it's really Westvleteren 12, the beer that “disappeared” from circulation when it was selected as the best beer in the world by readers of RateBeer.com.

Not that it was easy to find, even in Belgium ... even where it is brewed.

The Cafe de Vrede, across the lane from the Sint Sixtus Abbey, was closed for its annual autumn break, which seems usually to occur at the very same time that beer lovers gather in nearby Poperinge for the triennial hop festival. We biked past the venue, and as my old friend Barrie would say, paused to kiss the lock on the door before proceeding into town.

Arriving at the marvelous Hotel Palace in Poperinge, we found no Westvleteren at that estimable cafe; actually, it wasn't clear whether Guy had had any from the start, or whether his stock already was depleted by the time we checked on Saturday.

Cafe de la Paix? Fine food and a great beer selection, but no, not there, either.

Then on Sunday, in preparation for the parade, we dined at the Poussecafe, located just up Ieperstraat from the Palace, and the elusive Trappist elixir was right there, printed on the paper menu, in full view.

I asked the server, who proved to be the owner Kurt, "Do you really have this beer in stock?"

He shrugged and replied: "It wouldn't be listed if I didn't."

An incredible lunch followed, and the food was good, too, but I still prefer Rochefort 10, with Westvleteren a close second.

Later, comfortably seated along the parade route, I was introduced to a great new way to enjoy Poperings Hommelbier.



Pitch the lemons and limes, and go back to the basics.

ON THE AVENUES: I'd like nothing more than to go for another ride with Kevin.

ON THE AVENUES: I'd like nothing more than to go for another ride with Kevin.

A weekly column by Roger A. Baylor.

My column is a bit early this week, because two years ago today a fine fellow departed Planet Earth. Lightly edited to account for the passing year, here's a remembrance, as originally published on the 19th of October in 2017. 

---

It’s October 23, and two whole years since Kevin Richards died.

I’d like to say my period of mourning is over, but this wouldn’t be entirely honest, as I’m not sure it ever began.

That’s because in a great many ways, I’ve simply refused to acknowledge Kevin is gone forever.

Flown down to Dallas for bar-hopping and a Cowboys game?

Gotten into one of those busy times at the shop?

Slipped out to go for a "century" before supper?

That explains it. He’ll be back soon, standing in the very same reserved spot by the bar. We’ll have a beer (or five) and share all the stories, and the world will make sense again.

Of course, I know it isn’t to be, although one thing is perfectly clear: While I have no issues whatever with the fine people up the hill at Silvercrest, I’m spooked, and in no hurry to visit the facility any time soon.

When Kevin was diagnosed with terminal cancer in August of 2016, he spent his final weeks under hospice care at Silvercrest. Four months later, so did my mother. I’m reasonably sure she was in the same room that Kevin had been, or perhaps the one adjacent to it.

Silvercrest’s staff members were universally kind and compassionate, but the convergence was a bit much. No more, please, at least for a while.

Regular readers know that Diana and I recently traveled to Europe, spending the bulk of our time in Poperinge, Belgium and Haarlem, Netherlands.

Kevin was a big fan of both these places, and when we returned to them a month ago, each bicyclist I saw pedaling past – there were hundreds in all – reminded me of the epic beercycling times we had.

It will surprise absolutely no one to learn that our acquaintance began in the late 1980s over beer, not bicycles. Kevin started patronizing Scoreboard Liquors, the package store where I worked, and after a brief lull (I believe he moved to Indianapolis for a short time) we met again when the Public House came into existence in 1992.

To say that Kevin was a fixture there is to be guilty of criminal understatement, and it bears repeating, now and always: If the pub had its own Mt. Rushmore, Kevin would be one of the four faces.

Beer obviously was a shared theme of our friendship in the early years, and then a bit later, bicycles. Kevin often rode motorcycles, although I’ll always contend that human-powered transport was a better match for his innate, personalized zen. Going for bicycle rides -- and refueling afterward -- suited him well.

I helped get Kevin into better beer. He definitely helped get me into a bike saddle.

A group of pub-going cyclists gradually came together, and one late summer's day in 1999, Kevin and I rode to the top of the Knobs via Corydon Pike's switchback grade. We stopped to sag at Polly’s Freeze, the venerable ice cream haven.

An earnest discussion began. Might we venture a biking trip to Europe?

And -- heaven forbid -- have a few fine ales in the process?

The planning began. We booked hotels at three beer-oriented urban venues in Belgium, along with rental bikes for day trips radiating from each stop. Faxes (!) and e-mails were sent, and the itinerary came into shape. As the calendar turned to June, 2000, there were five of us ready to make the journey, and it proved to be a classic.

A beercycling group was born, and as many as 15 of us took part in a total of seven trips in nine years, with the last occurring in 2008. Kevin was along for four of the seven, and without his guidance, I'd have lacked the confidence to "lead" the other ones, although in fact all of these trips were genuine group efforts.

Kevin and I conceived, orchestrated and performed those beercycling trips together, and while the cast revolved, each time out we functioned as a band of brothers (and on a couple of occasions, sisters).

I’m not exaggerating when I say that Kevin’s bicycling advocacy changed my life. My European travel instincts were joyfully reborn. During previous journeys to the continent, I'd dodged bicyclists while walking between train stations, never stopping to consider how much fun it might be to ride myself.

Correction: Actually, never stopping to consider that I could do it. Kevin patiently tutored me about the art of the possible on two wheels, with or without panniers. It wouldn’t have been possible without him.

By 2003, I was able to take my bike apart, pack it in a hard shell case, reassemble it, ride it all the way from Frankfurt to Vienna (meeting friends along the way), and get the bike and me back home without incident after a month on the road.

As a humanities major with almost no technical aptitude, I've never been more proud of myself, and eternally grateful to Kevin for showing me how.

Our partnership was mutually reinforcing. We’d pause by a river, and I’d prattle on about a Jacobite revolt in a neighboring town. Then Kevin would explain the hydraulics of the locks and dam we were observing. I’d score a brewery visit, and he’d calmly repair a spoke. Kevin had his life, and I had mine. Not all our interests intersected. When they did, life was great fun.

I’ll ride again in Europe some day, even if it’s two miles on flat ground with a rental bike.

It won’t be the same. It can't.

Back in the spring of 2016, Kevin was as hale and hearty as ever. It wasn’t for nothing that people called him Moose. I ran into him one day at the pub. He was in his usual nook spot, hale and hearty, with a pint in his hand. He began prodding me in his mischievous but always purposeful manner.

Had I been riding?

Was I going to start?

Really?

Walking?

What was my problem, anyway?

Kevin notched it up. We needed to get the band together again, and start planning a trip. It might be a simple reunion, or perhaps even a bang-up finale, but we needed to do it soon, before we got too old.

The chat lasted an hour, and I emerged buzzed and enthused. Later I told Diana it was inevitable. There'd be another ride somewhere in Europe in 2017.

Alas, the cosmos had a different sort of journey planned for Kevin, and we made the trip without him, and also without the bikes. Several toasts were made, one with a providential bottle of Westvleteren 12, using the immortal beercycling mantra of Bob Reed.

Here’s to us.
May we never quarrel or fuss.
But if by chance we should disagree,
Fuck you – and here’s to me.

Here’s to Kevin. I miss him.

A lot.

---

Recent columns:

October 18: ON THE AVENUES: As long as the Democratic hierarchy keeps the Human Rights Commission under its thumb, it's hard to be optimistic.

October 11: ON THE AVENUES: Clamming up is hard to do, but I'm trying my best.

September 30: ON THE AVENUES SPECIAL EDITION: As David White's mayoral campaign begins, let's briefly survey the electoral landscape.

September 28: ON THE AVENUES: If this is adulting, I’d rather be leaving on a jet plane.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST Exploding beer cans? If I want to risk injury, I'll try to make it across a New Albany street on foot.

Absolutely no disrespect to my bar-none favorite liquor store, just puzzlement at the decadence of the peak craft beer marketplace.

I'll have one of the gimmick-suppression beers on the right. Urbain Coutteau is a fine guy, indeed.

The irony in all this is that a few days before the advent of Neopolitan Grapefruit Milkshake, I'd dropped by The Keg to purchase a few German-brewed Oktoberfest bottles for a vital personal sampling, and was told a case of 450 North had just detonated in the storeroom.

Lest there be any misunderstanding, allow me to paraphrase an old saw: I may be entirely befuddled by what you're brewing, but I'll fight to the point of unconsciousness in support of your right to brew it.

At the same time, count me among those who can't come to grips with the notion of craft beer as potential can bombs. In response to this cognitive dissonance, I ducked into the wayback machine, armed with my tasty Hacker Pschorr, Paulaner and Hofbrau seasonal lagers, comparing their malty nuances and calculating which among them is best suited to induce the quaffing of another mug without recourse to check-ins, on-line ratings and narcissistic selfies.

In short, my own snug, tasty, dependable counter-revolution -- sans flying debris. The wonderful Bryan Roth takes it from here.

It’s Lit — The Unfortunate Trend of Exploding Cans in Craft Beer, by Bryan Roth (Good Beer Hunting)

Think the process to go from grain to glass with an ingredient-laden Pastry Stout or lacto-fruit milkshake IPA is strenuous? For some breweries, adding a phone call to their lawyer may be a new, necessary step, too. At least, that's the advice from one attorney regarding a controversial new trend in beer.

“I’d say you definitely need to seek basic legal counsel just to verify what verbiage should be put on a can,” says Candace Moon, a partner and member of the Corporate Department at Dinsmore & Shohl LLP. “Even just to share how things are communicated, because a second set of eyes could be meaningful.”

Such is the awkward reality—and surprising conundrum—of who should be responsible for an exploding can of beer. For all the challenges in today’s beer industry, it’s a rather strange and new one, spurred by discussions not around the quality of a product, but its ability to harm the consumer ...

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: There's a place for retro beers, but for better or worse, they don't taste the same as they once did.

New Albany retro, lost to history.

Recently I indulged a digression about Falls City in both old and new incarnations, and my friend Scott pointed to something that may be worth a second look.

My question is, are any of the retro beers actually the exact same recipes as when we were teens or has our tastes changed as we have aged? City, Pabst, Sterling were undrinkable to me then. Just nasty like Miller Lite still is today. Stroh's was okay. That was my beer for a few years before I went up to Miller High Life.

Following is my answer, right or wrong, without having done the slightest research on the matter.

To me, it's just common beer sense that many, if not all, of the contemporary "retro" beer brands have little in common with their foundational predecessors.

By "retro" beer, we're pinpointing those brands available regionally (some were national brands) prior to the craft beer era, ones that ceased to exist for a time and since have been revived, almost always as brewed at a location other than their original brewery site.

Obviously, the beer portfolios of BudMillerCoors cannot be considered "retro" according to this definition, as they've continued in production since the end of Prohibition, and throughout the modern era. Granted, their multiple brewing locations muddy the waters, but not too much. The point is their continuity.

Conversely, a panoply of beers -- dozens nowadays, including Stroh's, Schlitz, Hamm's, Narragansett, Sterling, Champagne Velvet, and yes, even Falls City -- were born at a particular brewery, enjoyed long life spans and generated iconic branding that remains familiar, but they've long since ceased being brewed "at home," so to speak. They disappeared from sight, if not always in totality, and have been brought back to leverage the adjective "iconic" in terms of marketing, not to rediscover the original recipe.

Any way you look at it, there's almost no way these recipes could taste the same, even if they are the same on paper.

For one, even the Budweiser purportedly brewed in St. Louis according the the same formulation as used 125 years ago isn't the same now as then, because the barley and hops have evolved over this span of time. The same goes for everything we as humans consume. Does chicken today taste like it did in Mark Twain's day? Selective breeding and hybridization suggest it's highly unlikely.

There's also a slightly more obtuse consideration, although I believe it to be merited. I've been rereading Michael Jackson's Great Beers of Belgium, which the Beer Hunter published in 1992, with several updated editions appearing prior to his death in 2007.

Intentionally avoiding depth of detail in the interest of an overview, and acknowledging the passage of time, Jackson notes that numerous factors enter into a beer's flavor profile, including the obvious choices of malt and hops, but also water softness or hardness (nowadays adjustable through water treatment), as well as the chosen yeast, this being perhaps the least understood element on the part of beer drinkers who aren't well versed about beer making.

In short, while much of modern brewing history centers on the application of science to make yeast behave predictably, they remain living creatures with habits and eccentricities of their own. Jackson observes that in traditional brewery settings like Belgium during the period of his visits -- think of old industrial architecture and not the pristine operating theater of a modern hospital -- yeasts would come to adapt to their variable surroundings.

The same basic yeast strain carried to a different brewery eventually would adjust to the new environment; given that we're speaking of ales fermented at a higher temperature, these yeasts would contribute to the ultimate flavor profile of an individual beer, and if the same strain was used to brew more than one beer, there'd be a "house character" of sorts across the whole of the product line.

While it's true that the art of lager brewing advanced across the planet as a way of standardizing brewing science and reducing these eventualities, it isn't far-fetched to imagine that especially in the period prior to Prohibition, America's lager beer makers benefited from a similar serendipity, their recipes and yeast-driven house character coming into being just like at the Belgian breweries surveyed by Jackson.

Whether or not "fire brewing" in the context of Stroh's (direct flame on the kettle as opposed to jacketed heat) caused hot spots and added a little something caramelized to the finished beer, the brewery's choice of yeast probably did. Fast-forwarding, one might take today's Stroh's or leave it, but neither the yeast nor the "fire" process is the same in the reconstituted brand. 

At this precise moment, writing on a Sunday morning, I can distinctly recall what these beers mentioned by Scott tasted like when I was younger. He's correct in saying that our ability to taste is altered as we age, but this does not compromise my memories.

These brands had a definable house character. There was a Stroh's flavor, and a Sterling flavor, and a Budweiser flavor, and I always could pick them out. Some I liked, others not.

A few months back I drank a little 7-ounce bottle of Miller High Life, and it tasted largely the way I remember it from high school. However, the Stroh's we're carrying at Pints&union does not taste the way it did when I sat at the bar of Lanesville's K&H Cafe in the mid-1980s with my friend Doc Holliday and drained the night away, at least until he retreated back up the hill to Maverick Mountain and I navigated the corn fields home to Georgetown.

Miller High Life may have been tweaked and adjusted, but there is a continuity in the way it is brewed. Stroh's almost completely disappeared and was passed around from speculator to speculator. By the 1980s, the same was true of beers like Falls City and Sterling. They'd stopped being brewed at their "home" breweries, been reduced to bundles of discounted marketing imagery, and sold to whomever might squeeze a few more dollars from the bastardization before the older generation of loyalists died.

When these brands returned to liquid form and once again were real, tactile beverages capable of being discerned by human palates, and not merely the offspring of advertising wearables, there no longer existed any connection between what they had been and what they had become. Any seasoned contract brewer capable of rendering batches of competently rendered lager might now affix stylish old labels and roll out six new/old beers from the very same vat.

They'd be perfectly and professionally drinkable, just decidedly indistinct, and if tasted blind, it's doubtful many of us could tell the difference.

Or, they might use 6-row barley malt, corn or rice, and make an honest effort to more accurately recapture the older formulations. Still, I suspect that once lost, the genuine and individualistic house character of these old imperial warhorses -- those unique traits that made them taste the way they did before adulteration, debilitation and decline rendered them moot -- is gone forever.

Hence the conundrum. A beer like today's Falls City Classic Pilsner tastes nothing like the original ideal of its predecessor, but it tastes far better than its predecessor did during the death throes in the 1970s and 1980s. To me, the best example of this is Pabst Blue Ribbon. Today's PBR, the delight of hipsters and throwbackers, doesn't taste like PBR used to.

Not at all.

Rewind to 1980, and you'd find Pabst to be a forceful, float-a-penny-on-top, full-flavored concoction. You might not like the house character, but it could not be denied. It ran through all of Pabst's beers at the time. These days, it cannot be discerned at all, and the overall viscosity of everyday PBR matches that of the 1980s-era light Pabst.

I'm not sure there is a conclusion to any of this apart from one's own personal perspective and pocketbook.

The reason why Stroh's, Old Style and Little Kings are available at Pints&union is that I drank them in days of youth. Only the latter tastes close to my memory of it, but they're all quite drinkable, as is the Falls City Classic Pilsner on draft. I still prefer Pilsner Urquell.

And there you have it.

PINTS & UNION PORTFOLIO: Beer Tuesday Talk & Taste, and Tabletop Tuesday; beer and board gaming starting Tuesday, August 14.

To be perfectly honest, I've yet to make the acquaintance of The Settlers of Catan, yet I'm undeterred. If I were asked to select a beer to match the above image, it would be Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier.

Our golden-yellow wheat beer, with its fine-poured white foam, smells of cloves and impresses consumers with its refreshing banana flavor. It is full bodied with a smooth yeast taste. To be enjoyed at any time, this beer goes excellently with fish, seafood, spicy cheeses and pairs especially well with the traditional Bavarian veal sausage. Hefeweissbier brewed according to our centuries-old brewing tradition on the Weihenstephan hill.

If you're wondering where I'm headed with this, be aware of two events taking place at Pints&union (114 E. Market) on Tuesday evening.

Tabletop Tuesday
The first board game slated for Tabletop Tuesday is The Settlers of Catan. Play the game upstairs in the room we've yet to name.

Beer Tuesday Talk & Taste
The plan all along has been for me to keep regular "office hours" at Pints&union, although I'm not calling them Office Hours as such, since this title refers to my former Monday tasting gig at the Public House.

As often as humanly possible, I'll be upstairs at  between 5:00 p.m. and at least 8:00 p.m. on Tuesday evenings, starting Tuesday, August 14.

This weekly event is strictly informal, and you need not be present at any precise time, just at any point within the window. It's not exactly a class, and there'll be no tests. However, there'll be a beer of the week; purchase one downstairs, bring the beer upstairs, and we'll talk it over.

The conversation might lead somewhere, or not much of anywhere at all. However, it's your chance to learn about beer styles and ask me questions.

As you may have guessed already, this week's featured beer is Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier. Currently it's a rotating draft selection, and will remain on tap for at least another month.

Want to know more? Come see me on Tuesday night.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: In consideration of Falls City Classic Pilsner, on tap now at Pints&union.

It's always best to start at the beginning, and so it might help to know that the term "Falls City" predates those beers bearing its name, as Thomas Jefferson himself explains.

The Ohio is the most beautiful river on earth. Its current gentle, waters clear, and bosom smooth and unbroken by rocks and rapids, a single instance only excepted.

This single instance of interruption during 981 miles of passage to the Mississippi occurs where Louisville came to be. On the Indiana side, a state park marks the spot.

The Falls of the Ohio ... was the only navigational barrier on the river in earlier times. The falls were a series of rapids formed by the relatively recent erosion of the Ohio River operating on 386-million-year-old Devonian hard limestone rock shelves. Louisville, Kentucky, and the associated Indiana communities—Jeffersonville, Clarksville, and New Albany—all owe their existence as communities to the falls, as the navigational obstacles the falls presented meant that late-18th-century and early- to late-19th-century river traffic could benefit from local expertise in navigating the 26-foot (7.9 m) drop made by the river over a distance of two miles (3 km).

It's the Falls City as the sobriquet applies to Louisville alone, and Falls Cities in the sense of the bigger Kentucky city taken together with the three smaller ones in Indiana. It was inevitable that beer would become involved with the hard work of portage, or the act of conveying boats and/or their cargoes between navigable stretches of the river.

Falls City Brewing Co. was formed in 1905 by a collection of saloon owners and grocers who were in protest of the Central Consumers Company alliance formed by several larger Louisville brewers, which had essentially monopolized beer sales in the city. This group of plucky businessmen combined forces and built a 75,000-barrel brewery at Thirtieth Street and West Broadway downtown, next to Southern Railroad.

It should be noted that a number of smaller operations brewed beer under the name Falls City well ahead of this brewery’s launch; as breweries opened, closed, reopened and changed hands in the 1800s, a number of names came and went.

The "new" Falls City dates to 2010, and Pints&union is a whopping two weeks old; it only seems like it's been since 1905.

We've had a good reception at Pints&union for Falls City Classic Pilsner, and in a moment, I'll throw it over to Kevin Gibson to learn why this beer has reappeared in metro Louisville and it being poured at places like ours.

In the patois of the present, Falls City Classic Pilsner might be described as a "throwback" or "retro" beer, although perhaps the word "reincarnation" better describes the phenomenon of your grandfather's beer coming back to life for new generation of beer drinkers.

Before returning to the City story, let's rewind to September of 2008 for background on how beers like Pabst, Stroh's and Hamm's came to emulate Lazerus and be with us all over again.

RETRO BEER, by Don Russell (All About Beer)

... “It takes you back to a happy time, a time of less-hectic, calmer life,” said Scott Baver, whose Legacy Brewing Co. has begun brewing its own retro, Reading Premium.

Reading gets its name from the Berks County, PA, town 60 miles west of Philadelphia, where Legacy has been making full-flavored beers, including Hedonism and Midnight Wit, for the past five years. Though he sells plenty of those craft brands throughout the mid-Atlantic, Baver said he’s always been troubled by a common refrain from bar owners:

“Howcum you guys can’t make a ‘regular’ beer that the average person can drink?”

Instead of lecturing the bartender on the wonders of handcrafted ales, Baver responded by reviving the old Reading brand—a local favorite until it shutdown in the mid-1970s. “It was a no-brainer,” he said. “Ninety percent of the bars in the area still had all the Reading Premium point-of-sales material hanging up.”

Baver knew locals would go nuts for the beer. In less than a year, it was out-selling Legacy in Berks County. “I keep meeting people who tell me, ‘My grandpop used to drink it—I’ll drink one for him.’ Then, after they taste it, they find out the beer is pretty good.”

Oddly enough, the beer has legs. It sells well throughout Philadelphia, and last spring Baver sent two pallets of six-packs to Boston, where he said it sold out in two weeks. “Retro is very cool, right now,” Baver said. “You see it in art, the way people dress. I stopped in one place in South Philly, and the bartender looked like he was from a ‘70s porn movie.”

I hadn't planned on putting Falls City Classic Pilsner on tap at Pints&union, and to be honest, it had escaped my scrutiny apart from a wee taste at the Fest of Ale back in June. Then by sheer chance I ran into Travis (our local rep) while shopping at Kroger, and after chatting with him, decided to give it a shot, but not before dropping into Bridge Liquors to pick up a six-pack of cans.

For research purposes only, of course.

Here's Kevin with the background. I'm not going to lie to you; to me, part of the charm of Falls City Classic Pilsner is its lower price point, but if the beer didn't taste good, this wouldn't be enough to persuade me. It's a solid and tasty lager, and we'll give it a good, long run on draft to see if a following develops.

Falls City Brewing to turn back clock Saturday, release Classic Pilsner in throwback cans, by Kevin Gibson (Insider Louisville)

... A first taste of the beer reveals that brewer Cameron Finnis achieved exactly what Falls City set out to do: create a clean, basic, easy-drinking American pilsner that should appeal to a wide variety of palates.

For those put off by the big flavors of craft beer, this one will be an easy drinker.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: "In short, hemp and hops can only work together if state and federal regulators get out of the way."

This is an excellent essay about innovation, regulation and weirdness. Thanks to E for the link.

As for me, a pint of Fuller's London Pride will do just fine, but by all means, get out there and expand the perimeter.

Hemp Beer Is Dank, Delicious, and Coming Soon to a Bar Near You... by Eric Boehm (Reason)

... if regulators don't get in the way first

In a lot of ways, hemp and hops seem like they're just meant to go together. After all, they share common ancestors, common flavor profiles, and common recreational uses, says Tom Hembree, the co-founder of the Dad and Dudes Breweria in Aurora, Colorado.

At the end of 2012, the state voted to legalize recreational marijuana. Since shortly after, Dad And Dudes has been out front in the effort to develop and market a beer made with cannabis. The next batch of brew infused with cannabidiol (CBD) oil, a non-psychoactive compound extracted from cannabis, is almost ready to be put in cans. For Hembree, hemp and other cannabis byproducts like CBD are "just another hop essence."

If only it were that simple.

Beers made with hemp have been around for decades: In 1999, while returning from Mexico aboard Air Force One, President Bill Clinton reportedly sampled some Hemp Gold, a cream ale produced by the now-defunct Frederick Brewing Company of Maryland. But despite the explosive growth of America's craft beer scene and the growing acceptance of legal weed, the production and popularity of hemp beers has been limited by a litany of federal and state restrictions, while other laws make it difficult to distribute across state lines.

That's true even in places like Colorado, where craft beer is a booming industry and recreational marijuana is legal. Just down the street from the brewery, you can stroll into a dispensary and find cannabis to be smoked, weed-infused bakery items or candies to be munched, and concentrate to be vaped.

But Dad and Dudes had to get permission from three different federal agencies, along with state authorities, before brewing their George Washington's Secret Stash—so named because the president grew hemp on his farm at Mount Vernon in the days before such production was banned by federal fiat. And when federal rules about using hemp changed abruptly in December 2016, production had to be shut down. "It's been a struggle," says Hembree. Only now, a year and a half later, after a lawsuit and with the beer's legality still somewhat unclear, are they ready to try again."

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: No absinthe-barrel-aged IPAs, please. Imperial Stout? Let me think about that one.

Too late.

Someone in the Netherlands already went and did absinthe beer, not barrel-aged (some things should remain far removed from scheming human hands), but with barley, wheat and an herbal extract.

Bavaria 8.6 Absinthe

Licorice beer.

Just what I was craving on a scorching August day.

The graphic is a Mucha, and appropriately, the last time I drank absinthe the spirit was in the Czech Republic, probably in 2004. Once upon a time at the NABC web site FAQ, there was this.

My grandfather told me that bock beer …

He meant well, but it isn’t true. Bock beers do not come about because of the dark residue of once-yearly spring cleaning. Also, the beer you had in Prague that was identified as “12” referred to gravity, not the alcohol content (and the fact that it made you so drunk probably owed to the accompanying and injudicious use of absinthe). Darkness is not an indicator of strength, and ale won’t give you a headache unless you drink far too much of it – same goes for lager.

Joe mentioned the other day that we're eventually to have absinthe at Pints&union. While I've come to enjoy licorice-flavored alcohol -- anise and ouzo spring to mind -- absinthe probably is something I can avoid misusing.

Then there's Mezcal. Best keep that one under lock and key, Joe. In the meantime, here's a fine tutorial about absinthe and how to drink it. 

How to Drink Absinthe and Live to Tell the Tale, by J Fergus (The Manual)

Absinthe — sometimes called the “Green Fairy” because of the alleged hallucinatory properties — is perhaps one of the most misunderstood spirits out there. This isn’t just because of the whole “wormwood makes you see things” thing, but also because (unlike your everyday whiskey), to get the most out of absinthe, you can’t just pour it into a glass and go. (Well, you could just pour it into a glass and drink it, but with the average proof of absinthes being over 50 percent ABV, it isn’t advisable.)

For some expert guidance, we’ve enlisted the help of Matt Johnson, owner of The Secret Society, a lounge, ballroom, and recording studio in Portland, Oregon, that’s renowned for its absinthe collection.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: "When you think of your favorite spot to grab a beer, what architectural features come to mind?"

Jeff Speck forwarded the following link at Twitter, and if you're like the lady who wrote to the newspaper the other day from an anguished but belated realization that someone had changed the street grid in New Albany without bothering to ask her permission, and demanded to know who was responsible, then kindly note: had Speck's revolutionary recommendations been fully embraced by Mayor Deafrey Gahan, this woman's tenuous grip on reality would have eroded even further by now.

Maybe not everyone should be allowed to drive.

However, this column is about beer, not mayoral incompetence or car-centric nut cases, so let's move forward to an interesting glimpse at one writer's selection of nine bars that every architect needs to visit.

To me, the essential ingredient for bucket-list bars is that they're located somewhere else, preferably in Europe, and have good adult beverages to drink -- namely, beer. As such, I've actually been to the Hofbrauhaus and Hirschgarten for lagers, and once walked past the American Bar in Vienna.

This said, taking the author's task as our own, it's hard to imagine a more worthy addition to the architectural list than this gem.

The bar at the West Baden Springs Hotel, just up the road from Nawbany adjacent to French Lick in central Hoosierland, is situated in the atrium beneath a 200-ft dome once dubbed the 8th Wonder of the World. 

Just saying.

The 9 Bars That Every Architect Needs to Visit, by Kaley Overstreet (Arch Daily)

When you think of your favorite spot to grab a beer, what architectural features come to mind? Is it the swanky furniture, themed artwork, or the heavily designed cocktail menu? Today, the aesthetics of bars are now as much a draw as the drinks themselves. From movie set inspired spaces to rooftops that offer spectacular city views, we’ve compiled a list of nine bars and beer gardens that every architect needs to cross off their list.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: An accumulated thirst -- or, lots of kegs floated at Pints&union.

I am somewhat flabbergasted by the tally, but happily so.

After four "official" business days preceded by two "soft" evenings, something like 800 pints of draft beer have been consumed at Pints&union, including two full kegs of Fuller's London Pride -- and only one of the other blown kegs was an IPA (Bell's Two Hearted).

That's 100 pints of IPA (a very good IPA, I might add) and 700 of the other styles. Bottles and cans are moving at a nice clip, too. Yesterday an old friend in the restaurant business took a look at the beer list.

"This is great. There's something here for everyone."

Music to my ears, kind sir. Another exchange on Reddit produced this comment.

I’m actually really impressed by those tap choices. Solid but not intimidating beers. I’ll definitely be grabbing a Fuller’s or an Urquell.

It's far too early to judge, and as Tom Hanks might have noted in an alternate universe, there's no gloating in the beer business. Still, it's gratifying to play a role in a plan finally coming to fruition. On Sunday afternoon, Joe Phillips posted at the Pints&union Fb page.

I saw all walks of life, many different age groups, strangers becoming friends. That's what a public house is for. No more blaming, no left or right, no more terms like "Boomers" or "Millennial's"; we are all in this together. Thank you for showing up and meeting someone new and getting back to what matters, and that's "us" as a whole. Thank you so much for a great first week, we look forward to seeing you again soon.

Pints&union will reopen on Tuesday at 4:00 p.m. Business hours next week are easy to remember: 4:00 p.m. to to 2:00 a.m., Tuesday through Saturday. Monday is our Ruhetag -- the "quiet" or "rest" day (translation: closed on Monday. Sunday hours are coming fairly soon.

As the kegs started popping on Saturday night, I was reminded of a hilarious 1950’s-era Australian song that I first heard performed by the Dubliners with heavily bearded and gravelly-voiced Ronnie Drew singing the lead. The song is based on a true story and the tale is told here: The Original "Pub with No Beer."

It's lonesome away from your kindred and all
By the camp fire at night where the wild dingoes call,
But there's nothing so lonesome so morbid or drear
Than to stand in a bar of a pub with no beer.

Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come
There's a far away lock on the face of the bum
The maid's gone all cranky and the cook's acting queer
What a terrible place is a pub with no beer.

Then the stock-man rides up with his dry dusty throat
He breasts up to the bar, pulls a wat from his coat,
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer,
When the bar man said sadly the pub's got no beer.

Ther's a dog on the 'randa-h for his master he waits
But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates
He hurries for cover and cringes in fear
It's no place for a dog round a pub with no beer.

Old Billy the blacksmith first time in his life
Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife,
He walks in the kitchen, she says you're early me dear,
But he breaks down and tells her the pub's got no beer.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: And the honor goes to Fuller's London Pride.

At approximately 9:30 p.m. on Thursday, August 2, 2018 the first keg to be emptied at Pints&union was Fuller's London Pride, with Guinness queuing close behind it.

This pleases me for a number of reasons.

From the start, we've been inspired by the classic British pub experience, while not going quite so far as to imitate it in the fashion of a puerile Disney facsimile. The fact that customers are drawn to Fuller's bears the stamp of vindication.

I've been to London and always enjoyed pints of Fuller's at the company's tied houses. In Louisville, the Irish Rover has had Fuller's ESB on tap for many years, and it's my go-to with fish and chips (oddly, the ESB is unavailable in Indiana).

In the following article, Alworth is wonderfully spot on. If you've been to the UK and found yourself absorbed in classic pub culture, enjoying cask-conditioned "real" ale and the occasional nibble, it sticks with you forever. At the same time, it's far easier to stock a reasonably authentic Belgian beer cafe or Bavarian biergarten in America than a British-style pub.

There'll be many kegs to come, but I'll always remember the first. Thank you very much.

FULLER’S LONDON PRIDE: A HARMONY IN FIVE PARTS, by Jeff Alworth (All About Beer Magazine)

Good luck finding a proper English bitter in the United States. You can more easily locate gose—an obscure, recently extinct beer made in only a couple of breweries in its native Germany—than the national ale of Britain. The same Britain, to underscore this irony, that served as the model for American microbreweries 40 years ago. Yanks still make pale ales by the legion, and our IPAs were at least inspired by the English predecessor. But a 3.8% bitter, with native yeast esters, local hops and bready malts blossoming under the effect of cask conditioning? You have to go to the source.

For reasons no one can untangle, Americans never took to cask ale. Maybe it’s because too few of us have managed to visit Britain, found ourselves in a cozy, wood-paneled pub, with hands encircling a third pint. Because for those of us who have, the experience has lingered and developed a patina in our memories. My first such experience is still the most indelible: the Jack Horner, in Bloomsbury, London, after a long flight from the West Coast. A Fuller’s pub, with meat pies and tall glasses of London Pride. If your dalliances happened with Timothy Taylor Landlord or Harveys Sussex Best or Adnams Southwold, I’m not going to argue. There are quite a number of excellent bitters in England—and even more lovely pubs in which to fall in love with them.

But even stripped of the nostalgia, my vote goes to Pride. It has that lovely woody color that confuses Americans and a palate that, to IPA drinkers, is anything but “bitter.” “Balance” would be a more apt name. In London Pride’s case, all the hallmarks of English brewing are in attendance: an orangy, marmalade nose of fruity ale esters, a touch of the toffee malts and a hint of delicately floral hops. Your attention can be drawn to any of them, or you can take in the way they form such a beautiful chorus. Also: the soft mouthfeel that can only come from the lower levels of natural carbonation, contrasted by the water’s minerality and stiffness. Yeast, malt, hop, water and cask-conditioning—a harmony in five parts ...

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Drink a toast to trailblazing New Albany brewer Hew Ainslie with a McEwan's Scotch Ale.

Let's drink to our next meeting, lads,
Nor think on what's atwixt;
They're fools wha spoil the present hour
By thinking on the next.
-- Hew Ainslie

In 1840, Hew Ainslie became New Albany's first officially recorded brewer, setting up shop with a partner named Bottomley in the vicinity of today's Best Western at Spring and W. 5th Street. Their brewery didn't last long, being a victim of fire, and by 1841 Ainslie was working in Louisville.

I believe Ainslie deserves some manner of recognition. After all, too many plaques are mounted in honor of underachieving politicians, and too few to men like Ainslie. In addition to brewing, he was a published poet and an ardent Scottish nationalist.

I'm telling you abut Ainslie because a spoonful of McEwan's Scotch Ale helps the history lesson go down. First, today's Pints&union story links:

New pub brings authentic English flavor to downtown New Albany, by Rachael Krause (WAVE 3)

SNEAK PEEK: This new Louisville-area bar focuses on classic beers, by Bridgett Weaver (Business First)

Any thoughtful consideration of classic ales from Scotland must include McEwan's Scotch Ale, which is available in the bottle at Pints&union. Owing to brewery consolidations and buyouts, it has been orphaned several times, and nowadays this quintessential Wee Heavy is brewed at Marston's.

Known as a “wee heavy.” Fermented at cooler temperatures than most ales, and with lower hopping rates, resulting in clean, intense malt flavors. Well suited to the region of origin, with abundant malt and cool fermentation and aging temperature. Hops, which are not native to Scotland and formerly expensive to import, were kept to a minimum.

At the time of this review five years ago, McEwan's was the property of Wells & Young’s Brewing Co. Now it is being brewed by Marston in Bedford, UK. Almost any traditional ale of Scottish origin at this potency can be trusted to be rich, malty and sweet. It isn't everyone's cup of tea, but then again, neither is tea itself.

MCEWAN’S SCOTCH ALE (All About Beer)

 ... Nicknamed the “Red Top,” this traditional “wee heavy” was first brewed by William McEwan in Edinburgh in 1856.

ABV: 8
ABW: 6.4
COLOR: 37
BITTERNESS: 23

 ... Nut brown with gorgeous ruby highlights, it has a fine tan head that won’t disappear. The nose is reminiscent of the delicious aroma encountered when entering a brewery. On the palate, it is rich, flavorful, and well-balanced; almost fruity with a clean treacle finish. A little too sweet for many dishes, we enjoyed it with bowtie pasta with basil-spinach pesto, topped with grated Parmigiano Reggiano, followed by fresh fruit and sponge cake for dessert.
- Charles Finkel

A very dark and deep presentation topped off with a head that lingers memorable wisps. Rich toasty, toffee aroma sets up rounded expectations. Malt characters insist on dominating. Chewy mouthfeel. Extraordinary well-balanced Scotch ale with warmth of alcohol instilling my mind. Unusually clean aftertaste for such a big beer. Well-brewed. A very excellent example of a classic style.
- Charlie Papazian

For many beer drinkers, a sipping beer like McEwan's Scotch is better suited to cooler weather, although to me air conditioning is the great leveler. If you have one, let me know what you think -- and be sure to raise your glass to Hew Ainslie.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Pints&union begins regular hours tonight, and there's a "luxuriant brunette brew" to help celebrate.

Noon edit: this introduction was posted on social media and is a tad more specific. Scroll down for this morning's original post.

Many of you are aware that Pints&union will begin regular hours this evening at 6:00 p.m. There are a couple of things it might help you to know about tonight.

First, Pints&union is a bar with food, not a restaurant with a full menu and servers (but all ages welcome, just no under-21s at the bar).

We're doing counter/bar service with a menu of small plates, and the entire food program will take a few business days to dial in.

Second, tonight is intended to be an inaugural bash. The pub surely is destined to become a place for conversation, though tonight is likelier to be noisier than this.

We'll be open Thursday, Friday and Saturday this week, then temporarily bypassing Sunday (until later), and will reopen next Tuesday. I'm guessing a routine will develop fairly quickly, although I'm not willing to try defining "normal."

We cannot put into words our appreciation for your support and look forward to seeing you, whether tonight or many other nights during the years to come.

Tonight Pints&union (114 E. Market Street, New Albany) begins regular business hours at 6:00 p.m.

Last weekend's two "soft" opening evenings were helpful, and tweaks will continue to be made. Expect a few adjustments to the hours of operation during the first couple of weeks, and note that because the pub's kitchen hood was the very last item to be installed, edibles are still being dialed in.

As for the beer, eight of ten potential faucets will be pouring. It isn't yet clear whether the permanent number of taps will be seven or eight, but for now I've squeezed in a special treat for those of you who enjoy classic styles: Daredevil Munich Dunkel from Indianapolis.

It's an old-world dark lager brewed with rigorous authenticity by a new-school Indiana craft brewer. Daredevil was awarded Grand Champion Brewery and Indiana Brewery of the Year in the professional division at the 2017 and 2018 Indiana State Fair Brewers Cup.

Lift Off IPA remains Daredevil's biggest seller (it's also the biggest selling IPA in Indianapolis, with Bell's Two Hearted Ale second), but brewer and co-owner Michael Pearson's classic lager program is stellar and underrated. Expect to see examples of these at Pints&union on a seasonal basis.

Stylistically speaking, K. Florian Klemp profiles Munich Dunkel at All About Beer magazine.

A revered institution is one that endures via love of tradition, one that needs little refinement, let alone overhaul or modernization. In the world of beer, that is, without debate, true about Munich dunkel. Sometimes referred to simply as dunkel (“dark”), it is the everyday, luxuriant brunette brew of Bavaria and Franconia, and the beer that brought renown to Munich as a brewing center. True to the roots of Bavarian brewing history as both a dark beer and lager, dunkel is one of those rare gems that combines depth and simplicity packaged in proletarian delight, marrying the rich footprint of dark malts with the smoothness of a lager.

The bottle and can selection at Pints&union will gradually expand over the coming weeks. I need to wait and see how beers move before completing it. Stylistic diversity is crucial, but so is steady depletion. Ultimately the list of bottles and cans will top out at 40-odd, with a few open slots to rotate seasonals and specialties.

Here is the opening draft list at Pints&union. I hope to see you tonight as we embark on what I'm hoping will be a long and satisfying journey.

Everyday
Anchor Porter (Robust Porter; 5.6%; CA)
Bell’s Two Hearted Ale (India Pale Ale; 7%; MI)
Fuller’s London Pride (English Bitter; 4.7%; England)
Guinness Stout (Irish Dry Stout; 4.2%; Ireland)
Pilsner Urquell (Bohemian Pilsner; 4.4%; Czech Republic)

Seasonal
Daredevil Munich Dunkel (Bavarian-style Dark Lager; 5.4%;IN)
Falls City Classic Pilsner (American Pilsner; 4.5%; KY)
Weihenstephaner Hefe Weissbier (Bavarian Wheat; 5.4%; Germany)

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Kalin Tavern, where a passport is required to cross the barroom.

At Conde Nast Traveler, Ken Jennings writes about a tavern divided.

Sitting on an international border can be bad for business.

Running a multi-national pub in the middle of nowhere can be tricky. Kalin pays taxes only in Slovenia, but has a separate phone number in each country. He doesn't get so many Croatian guests now that they have to show a passport just to get to his front door, so he only stocks Slovene beers. An old photo in the hallway shows Kalin's mom's dog in happier times, peeing on the border marker right outside the tavern door.

The Google street view above dates to 2013, affording a clean view of the Kalin Tavern on the left (note the awnings) and the border blockade running right across the street.

In Slovene, "gostilna" is an inn or pub.

You might recall a digression from last year, in which I recounted my first and only visit to Ljubljana, Slovenia in 1987, when there was no wall across the road because all of it was part of the late Yugoslavia.

30 years ago today: (May) An introduction to Yugoslavia in Ljubljana, then Zagreb and the way to Sarajevo.

Union Pivo (beer) figured into that one, too.

So many walls, too few bridges.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Against the Grain to Citra its Ass Down in Okinawa.

You may be asking: Okinawa?

Japan’s southernmost prefecture is relatively close to Taiwan and Mainland China, and they have influenced its music, food, art and architecture.

The largest of the Ryukyu Islands, Okinawa was part of the independent Ryukyu Kingdom from the 15th to 19th centuries. It’s been part of Japan for a “mere” 135 years, so it’s not surprising that Okinawans are less attuned to the Japanese customs of the north.

As such, perhaps it's to be expected that a brewery priding itself on eclecticism and dirty underwear would find a locale like Okinawa, which goes against the Japanese grain.

Good work, gentlemen.

As a side note, the legendary Indiana-born journalist and war correspondent Ernie Pyle was killed during the battle of Okinawa in 1945. The battle ended in June and was the last major engagement in the Pacific theater of operations. Japan surrendered to the United States on September 2, following the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by American atom bombs.

The late Aiko Allen, my aunt, was 14 when the bomb dropped on Nagasaki. She somehow survived, married my mom's brother (he was stationed in Japan during the Korean War), and lived the rest of her life in Henderson, Kentucky.

The Allen household always contained arts, crafts and bric-a-brac from Japan, among them a calendar from Okinawa that Aunt Aiko gifted me when I was six or seven. It might be stored in a box somewhere downstairs.

All of which has nothing to do with beer, and so be it. Beer may be life, but life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.

Best wishes to Against the Grain; too bad NABC's expansion plan to Old Albania back in 2013 never worked out.

Against the Grain partnering with Japanese entrepreneur to open brewery in Okinawa, by Kevin Gibson (Insider Louisville)

Against the Grain Brewery is partnering with a Japanese entrepreneur to open a brewery in Okinawa. The endeavor is expected to be up and running by this fall.

Against the Grain Ishigaki, which is located in downtown Ishigaki on the island in the Okinawa prefecture, is already open as a restaurant, selling American-brewed Against the Grain beers and serving Japanese dishes that pair with the beers.

The beers, which will be brewed at the small brewery, will be based on the American beers but altered to better fit Japanese palates. Adam Watson, a partner in Against the Grain, said Japanese people tend to want clean, crisp beers — meaning that Citra Ass Down likely won’t be in play ...

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: A casual soft opening for Pints&union on a frenetic Friday evening in downtown New Albany.

Pints&union cleared its first hurdle on Friday evening. It was a very soft opening, with beers and drinks and nibbles.

The handles looked nice, although the learning curve was/is strenuous. There's an inevitable process of dialing in keg boxes, and making draft beer work right is like breaking a horse, with each system a bit different from the next. As attractive as these handles might appear, we're all in agreement that we should retrofit with something shorter, like basic black knobs. I'll be getting started on this in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

The upstairs, captured by Ed Needham. We need a name for this space. Steve Resch just might have been overheard suggesting "better times."

Ground floor, from the stairs.

Tasty red lentil hummus with naan bread. Joe and Aaron will be broadening the menu range once the kitchen hood installation is complete, hopefully Monday.

The scene earlier in the afternoon, with Joe, Calvin and Bryan. We didn't want to do a conventional invitation-only type of soft opening and resolved to unlock the doors and see what happened.

It happened, all right.

The grand opening is next Wednesday, August 1. Don't hold me to this, but I believe the opening time will be around 5 or 6 p.m., with the music at 8. There'll be primarily evening hours at first, with exceptions for Saturday and Sunday; closed on Monday. Once a routine is established, anything might happen.

In closing, my back hurts and the draft delivery system still needs work. The draft beers tasted great and were depleting fairly evenly. Staff was sharp and the overall mood jovial. Resch Construction's work exceeded expectations, as they've always somehow managed to do.

Congratulations to Joe, Regina, their kids and families; it's the start of something good, and the legacies begin now.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: A Pints&union preview in the News and Tribune.

Pints&union will be opening for regular business hours next week. This much I know. Otherwise, please connect with the Facebook page to keep informed about details.

Now for another pub preview, courtesy of the local newspaper. As of about 2:00 p.m. today, all the draft lines should be up and running, and a big shout-out goes to Kenny Henson of Monarch Beverage/World Class Beer for his efforts in fine-tuning the keg boxes. Joe and the rest of the team have been putting in the hours. All that remains is to tie up 1,001 loose ends and unlock the door.

Right?

UK-inspired pub opening in New Albany next week, by Danielle Grady (News and Tribune's Deep Repository of Tom May Content)

NEW ALBANY — Pints & Union is a United Kingdom-inspired pub that doesn’t have to slap you in your face to tell you that it is one.

Instead of Union Jacks plastered to the walls and the sounds of generic folk music being piped through the sound system, owner Joe Phillips has hung Victorian-esque paintings he found at auctions and opted for modern, British-inspired tunes.

The limited selection of nine beers on tap will feature European favorites (a Guinness stout, a Fuller’s London Pride and the Czechian Pilsner Urquell), but the food, served small plates-style, will be world-inspired with a bar bites twist: tikka masala wings and pickles coated in Lebanese spices.

The British Empire did once extend to almost every continent, after all, Phillips reminds ...

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: The forthcoming beer list at Pints&union (bottle and can edition).

This one's NOT on the list.

Yesterday I wrote briefly about the opening draft list at Pints& union, but first a quick reminder: when we're ready, that's when we'll open for business, and the best way to know is to follow the pub's progress at Facebook.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Kevin Gibson's look at Pints&union in Insider Louisville.

Today, the bottles and cans I've chosen.

Old-timers will notice the presence of "comfort beers," "neglected classics" and "greatest beer hits" alongside beers like Stroh's, Old Style and Little Kings. The juxtaposition is purely intentional.

Indeed, it's a more egalitarian list than I would have written at the peak of polemical fervor, with fewer local craft brews; as noted previously, in my view the revolution has succeeded in large measure, and there are numerous American craft beers being vended in downtown New Albany.

The best possible outcome for my city is when folks wander from place to place, sampling the offerings.

When available choices number in the hundreds, decisions must be made. I've opted for stylistic diversity, and relaxed my vigilance a bit. In point of fact, Stroh's, Old Style and Little Kings are what I drank in my twenties, until the imported bug bit. However, the beer list's Trappist and traditional German games are strong, too.

I'm still adjusting the wording for the styles. Anyone can look on-line and identify a beer by style; the problem is that different sources don't always agree on terminology. I reserve the right to tweak and make these identifiers as comprehensible as possible for the general public.

We're still in the process of sorting through our cooler space. Once we're up and rolling, another 12-15 beers in bottles and cans slowly will be added to the list. If those beers with a shorter shelf life don't move, we'll remainder them and flip another coin. The somewhat permanent list should land in the range of 45 selections.

Other Indiana wholesalers will get into mix as time passes. I've opted to keep things simple at the start, and once the ground game is established, we'll fire up the passing game.

What else? Prices are yet to come, sorry; we just got there today, and the POS is being programmed.

BOTTLES AND CANS (bottles unless noted)

Anchor Steam (California Common; 12oz; 4.9%; CA)
Boon Oude Geuze (Lambic; 12oz; 7%; Belgium)
Central State Garden (Gose; 16oz can; 3.6%; IN)
Daredevil Vacation Kӧlsch (Kӧlsch; 16.9oz can; 5%; IN)
Duvel (Strong Golden Ale; 11.2oz; 8.5%; Belgium)

Little Kings (Cream Ale; 7oz; 5.5%; OH)
Newcastle Brown Ale (English Brown Ale; 11.2oz; 4.7%; England)
Old Style (American Lager; 16oz can; 5%; WI)
Orval (Trappist Ale; 11.2oz; 6.2%; Belgium)
Orkney Skull Splitter (Wee Heavy; 11.2oz btl; 8.5%; Scotland)

Rochefort 10 (Trappist Ale; 11.2oz; 11.3%; Belgium)
Rodenbach Sour Ale (West Flanders Red; 11.2oz; 5.2%; Belgium)
Saison Dupont (Classic Saison; 12.7oz; 6.5%; Belgium)
Sam. Smith’s Oatmeal Stout (Oatmeal Stout; 11.2oz; 5%; England)
Sam. Smith’s Organic Perry (Perry/Pear Cider; 11.2oz; 5%; England)

Schlenkerla Marzen Rauchbier (Smoked Lager; 16.9oz; 5.1%; Germany)
Schneider Aventinus (Wheat Bock; 16.9oz; 8.2%; Germany)
Schneider Weisse (Bavarian Wheat; 16.9oz; 5.4%; Germany)
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale (American Pale Ale; 12oz can; 5.6%; CA/NC)
Smithwick’s Ale (Irish Red Ale; 11.2oz; 3.8%; Ireland)

St. Bernardus Abt 12 (Trappist Ale; 11.2oz; 10%; Belgium)
Stiegl Grapefruit Radler (Lager & Fruit Soda; 16.9oz can; 2.5%; Austria)
Stone IPA (India Pale Ale; 12oz; 6.9%; CA)
Stroh’s (American Lager; 12oz can; 4.6%; OH)
Three Floyds Alpha King (American Pale Ale; 12oz btl; 6.5%; IN)

Upland Wheat (Belgian-style Wheat; 12oz can; 4.7%; IN)
Upland Champagne Velvet (Pre-Prohibition Pilsner; 16oz can; 5.2%; IN)
Vander Mill Hard Apple (Apple Cider; 16oz can; 6.8%; MI)
Westmalle Tripel (Trappist Ale; 11.2oz; 9.5%; Belgium)

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Kevin Gibson's look at Pints&union in Insider Louisville.

I spent the afternoon filling it with cans and bottles.

As always, Kevin's reporting is impeccable, so read all about it -- and there are photos, too. Just don't ask me to tell you exactly when. When everything's ready, that's when.

Meanwhile, I'm like a kid in the damn candy store, albeit with back and knees throbbing from stocking cans and bottles today. It feels wonderful. The keg boxes are almost ready to pour; just a few more tweaks tomorrow.

I don't suppose it hurts to release the opening day (whenever that is) lineup of drafts.

Everyday
Anchor Porter (Robust Porter; 5.6%; CA)
Bell’s Two Hearted Ale (India Pale Ale; 7%; MI)
Fuller’s London Pride (English Bitter; 4.7%; England)
Guinness Stout (Irish Dry Stout; 4.2%; Ireland)
Pilsner Urquell (Bohemian Pilsner; 4.4%; Czech Republic)

Seasonal
Falls City Classic Pilsner (American Pilsner; 4.5%; KY)
Weihenstephaner Hefe Weissbier (Bavarian Wheat; 5.4%; Germany)

Assuming the keg box layout works as planned, there'll be another seasonal beer on tap: Daredevil's Munich Dunkel, because what Daredevil's doing with their lager program is out of this world. I can't promise with any precision yet, but I think it will work out.

It's all going to work out, in fact. I just don't know exactly when. Cue Carly Simon's "Anticipation" song from the ketchup ad, and remember: "these are the good old days."

Pints & Union: A first look at the New Albany pub, expected to open in early August, by Kevin Gibson (Insider Louisville)

Pints & Union, the long-planned European-style pub in downtown New Albany, is days away from a soft open trial run and likely just a couple of weeks away from an official grand opening.

As of this writing, the business, owned by Joe Phillips, was awaiting final licenses to begin serving liquor, but Phillips let Insider in for a first look at what the pub has in store.

For anyone who has been inside an actual pub in western Europe, chances are you’ll feel right at home at Pints & Union, which is located at 114 E. Market St. Wood floors, exposed brick and a general rustic feel is what you’ll find, accented with quirky décor, including antique art, breweriana and lots of taxidermy ...

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Pints&union will be opening later this week.

The obscure and long-awaited regulatory incantation from the Indiana Alcohol & Tobacco Commission arrived this morning, freeing the way for the doors to Pints&union to be opened to the public at some point later this week.

Specific times and dates will be coming soon. The best way to stay abreast of what certainly will be a crazy week is to hook up at Facebook: Pints&union.

Following are six recent postings about the pub's advent.

ON THE AVENUES: Thanks to Joe Phillips, there'll be pints, union and good times downtown.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Pints&union beer list theory and practice.

As the finish line nears, a few interior views of Pints&union.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Recalling "Love on the Beach" and taking note of changing times.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: On beer lists, beer-speak, and beer geeksplaining.

There's a preview of Pints & Union in the new issue of Extol Magazine.

Click here for the links to all articles using Pints & Union as a label.