PINTS & UNION PORTFOLIO: Beer Ed 101 is coming in October to an outstanding pub near you.

Once upon a time not so long ago IU Southeast had a department called Noncredit Programs, charged with developing regular non-credit courses across a broad spectrum of interests for community members wishing to pursue continuing education.

This department was abolished in 2012, victim of financial constraints. Accordingly, the spring semester of 2012 was the final time I convened my two IUS noncredit courses: "Here's to Beer" and "Even More to Beer."

They were held at the NABC Public House, and when the final bell sounded, somewhere around 100 students had taken part in the class over the preceding years.

Much has changed since then.

I'm no longer an NABC co-owner, and presently work for Joe Phillips as director of beer at Pints&union, his new pub at 114 E. Market in downtown New Albany.

Moreover, during the past six years the world of beer has grown insanely prolific, embracing thousands of new breweries, dozens of revised style definitions and the immediate enhanced electronic dissemination of photos, selfies, ratings, selfies, and on vastly scattered occasions, maybe the by-now-revolutionary act of drinking a good beer with friends just for the hell of it, sans real time documentation.

Please understand that the New Wave is fine by me.

After all, I did my small bit to help create the conditions for this cornucopia even if curating it has become a tremendous challenge for everyone involved with it. In addition, the only constant in life is change. Oldsters like me must resolve to change with the planet, or be left marooned at a chain sports bar.

Change is good ... at least up to a point.

Old School ways of thinking and drinking are valuable, too, and in my view they're being neglected in the current kaleidoscopic age.

Being the stubborn sort, I continue to insist that a basic education in fundamentals is vital to the expansion of the better beer perimeter -- because without knowing where we've been, we can't possible know where we're going.

It's certainly true that one can enjoy better beer without knowing about the brewing process, beers styles, geography, history and culture. However, the more one knows about these matters, the greater the possibilities for enjoyment.

Favoring a certain flavor is merely a starting point. Knowing the whys and wherefores helps to place flavors in context. Beer education provides the back story, and helps expand the consumer's savvy. In my experience, it transforms casual adherents into evangelists and spreaders of the better beer gospel.

I believe in it, and so for the first time since 2012, you're invited to Beer Ed 101 at Pints&union. 

It's a new name and a new venue for a reformatted "intro to beer" course. Obviously you must be 21 years of age to attend, and here are the other details.

• In relative terms, Beer Ed 101 is designed for beginners just coming to the sunny side of beer enthusiasm, but rest assured all are welcome
• Class will be held upstairs at Pints&union on three Tuesday evenings at 6:30 p.m. for approximately an hour, and I'll stick around for extracurricular beer chat afterward
• October 9, 16 and 23 are the dates for the initial class offering
• The next series of dates: November 13, 20 and 27
• There are no books, pencils and crayons, but there'll be 3-4 beer samples (as opposed to full beers) at each session; these are included in the price. Naturally, you may eat and drink on your own dime before, during and after the class
• For $30 (pay in advance or on the first evening), you get three class sessions, beer samples, and a mode of instruction that steadfastly refuses to "power point." Rather, it's oral history, sometimes incisive, other times rambling. Live (and sip) with it
• I'm accepting RSVPs from this point forward; be aware that there is a maximum class size, although I'll try to offer monthly classes in order to give everyone a chance
• This course is a work very much in progress, so please stay tuned to future updates

In summary: Don't fear the dark, consider attending Beer Ed 101, and stay tuned for the event notification at Facebook.

You also can contact me by e-mail: mayorbaylor(at)gmail(dot)com.

PINTS & UNION PORTFOLIO: Anyone up for Tuesday evening beer classes at the pub?

Please excuse a bit of housekeeping.

Because the aim at the Pints&union pub is to be non-denominational insofar as possible given the ill temperament of a planet run amok, I've decided that my writings at NA Confidential pertaining to specific pub business will run under the rubric of "Pints & Union Portfolio," rather than "Beer with a Socialist."

The latter will continue to be used for general beer meanderings not pertaining as much to the pub's mission.

As most readers know by now, I'm the beer guy at Pints&union, but I'm neither an owner nor a bartender (at least yet). I'm caring for the beer, and trying to find ways to promote beer and beer education at the pub.

There'll be guests, tastings, events and the like; just give us time to get settled.

One such idea is Beer Tuesday (or maybe Thursday) Talk and Taste, rather like evening office hours for me with a loose format and the intention of shooting the breeze with beer.

However, I'm also interested in resurrecting a more structured concept from the distant past.

Your continuing beer education: "Here's to Beer" and "Even More to Beer" non-credit IUS courses return in January, March 2012.

Shortly thereafter, the governing program went kaput.

With IUS's non-credit program gone, it's time for a beer education rethink.

When the IU Southeast opportunity came to an end, I continued with the NABC program of charitable tasting donations, which was a light variant of the class, but the class itself never was revived.

At Pints&union, there's a second chance, and we're working on it. The class would take place on Tuesday evenings within a specified period of time -- say, an hour or so each night for six weeks. We'd meet upstairs in the room that still needs to be named.

You'd pay a minimal fee each night to cover class samples, and while attendance wouldn't be mandatory, maybe those who made every session would get recognition on the wall, or some such way of reflecting "graduation."

If you're interested, please let me know. Until the details drop into place, here's a throwback from 2010 and my short-lived "Mug Shots" beer column in LEO Weekly. It addresses both the defunct IU Southeast non-credit course and the Public House Monday evening session eventually to be known as "Office Hours."

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How do you get to better beer?

Education, education, education.

Last weekend, the Mug Shot family watched Steven Soderbergh’s “Che,” the 2008 cinematic ode to Che Guevara, and while I know that this will incite the usual round of anguished finger-pointing about my Communist leanings (how unspeakably droll, yet they persist), Cuba never was much of a beer-drinking country, anyway.

Rather, at one juncture in Part One of “Che”, the revolutionary leader realizes that many prospective recruits to the cause can neither read nor write, and he institutes literacy classes as a core component of the 26th of July Movement.

To paraphrase Guevara: Absent literacy, the individual is much more easily misled by the powers that be.

Given that the movement toward better beer is advancing toward a flavor revolution, beer literacy is a vital antidote to the swillocracy’s waning, yet still leaden, anti-competitive grip on the marketplace.

As noted previously, consider Miller Lite’s “triple hop brewing” propaganda campaign. To know nothing about how beer is brewed is to be vulnerable to such assertions, but to be familiar with the brewing process is to know that the practice of adding hops three times in the kettle during the boil is hardly unique.

It’s universal, and Miller Lite’s reliance on the obvious plainly vapid.

Beer education is vital to the expansion of beer literacy, and to widening the better beer perimeter. Granted, one may discover better beer without knowledge about brewing methods, beers styles, geography, history and culture, but the greater the absorption of these matters, the greater the possibilities. 

Enjoying a flavor in the purest of hedonistic senses is only the starting point. Beer education places the flavor in context and provides the back story, helping to grow the love and to expand the consumer’s savvy. Beer education transforms casual adherents into torchbearers.

I’m determined not to neglect what I view as a personal mandate to educate about beer – all beer, and not just the ones my company makes. My goal always has been to act as fair broker for information about the whole world of better beer, hence these twice-monthly Mug Shots, quarterly contributions to Food & Dining, daily blogging, and a presence on Facebook and Twitter.

Questions? I'll answer them if I’m able, and if not, I'll try to point you in the right direction. The more you know about beer, the better chance you’ll gravitate to better beer and take your place in the ranks of the grassroots revolution. Once in our midst, you won’t be going back to the mundane.

As an update of periodic opportunities for beginning beer education, tonight is the first meeting of my February session of “Here’s to Beer.” It is a course sponsored by the Division of Continuing Education at Indiana University Southeast. The current section is filled, but there’s good news: Another offering arrives in April, with classes taking place from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. on the 7th, 14th, 21st, and 28th of April, all Wednesdays.

The non-credit course costs $65, the classes take place at NABC’s Pizzeria & Public House, and the objective is simple:

“Once upon a time, beer was just beer. No longer. Beginning with an overview of the brewing process and the history of beer, we'll learn how to distinguish Pale Ale from Imperial Stout through words and samples.”

On a more advanced level, I’ll soon be conducting weekly beer seminars at the Public House, beginning on Monday, February 8. Each “Office Hour with the Publican” will start at 6:30 p.m., and have the format of a participatory skull session with samples.

I project it as freewheeling, with each week’s hour self-contained, as opposed to the more structured and cumulative approach embodied by Here’s to Beer. There’ll be a modest sampling charge for participants, and the opportunity to eat and drink before, during and after the session.

Some topics will be announced, while at other times, the theme of the night will be determined on the fly. Examples:

Scandinavian Craft Brewing
Pilsners That Don't Suck
Let's Sample Some Vintage Stone Brewing Co. Beers
Style In Depth: Porter

Expect occasional guest speakers and impromptu entertainment. We’ll learn, have fun, and then see where the concept goes after a couple of months in action.

THE BEER BEAT: Wicked, Weed -- Whatever: "This week in solipsistic beer narcissism" (2014).

Yes, there's even a Black Market Brewery.

It's Greatest Hits Week at THE BEER BEAT, and rather than waste valuable drinking time trying to unravel the wicked and weedy issues surrounding the latest brewery sellout, I've concluded my spleen is more efficiently vented by reprinting a stellar selection of "wrote it all before."

Monday: THE BEER BEAT: Wicked, Weed -- Whatever: "Tastes of paradise can shatter mirrors" (2014).

As we await the next brick in the wall, I'll be reprinting a few previous columns this week, with the aim of making the case that you're better off nurturing your local and regional brewing communities than chasing white whales.

Seeing as they've been dropping like flies these past few years ...

10 Barrel Brewing apparently was the most recently deceased when I updated the following in 2014. Merely substitute the words Wicked Weed, Elysian or The Dear Departed, and it should read just as well.

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This week in solipsistic beer narcissism (2014).

Are you fed up with words you don’t understand?

Tired of scrolling down to your favorite contrarian beer columnist, then coming to a screeching halt when he uses words like “local multiplier effect” and “egalitarianism” in the very same sentence?

Hi, Roger A. Baylor here with an amazing new product – you’ve got to see it to believe it – called the Dictionary, and it’s a do-it-yourself confusion remover with professional results … guaranteed!

Just pick the word you want to define, match it to the alphabetical listing in the Dictionary, and read the answer.

It’s that easy.

And, because it’s wireless, there are no plugs, cords, batteries, tools or wiring to worry about.

With the amazing Dictionary, you can even learn how to pronounce the word!

The Dictionary contains all the words that you’ll ever encounter in this or any other column, and yet it’s small enough to put one in every room where you might find yourself reading the newspaper. Place one next to the toilet so you don’t have to go back downstairs to the den. Keep another on the porch for smoke breaks. The amazing dictionary fits in the glove box, in your purse or on top of the coffee table.

The Dictionary’s powerful information technology lets you define old words and learn new ones. It cuts through those multi-syllable, compound nightmares with ease, and talk about shock-absorbency … Watch while I shield my head with the Dictionary as my assistant attempts to beat my brain senseless with a RateAdvocate beer review.

See? Even after continuous pounding, my synapses are still transmitting neuron signals … and my session ale remains delicious.

That’s the power and protection of the Dictionary, folks.

Call now and you’ll get the Dictionary for only $19.99. You’ll also receive my handy Sticky Notepad and Self-Sharpening Pencil, absolutely free. Just copy the problem word from my column and stick it to the Dictionary until you feel like looking it up.

Yes, you’ll get the Dictionary, the Sticky Notepad and the Self-Sharpening Pencil, all for only $19.99. But if you call right now, I’ll double this entire offer. Just pay shipping, and you’ll get two Dictionaries, two Sticky Notepads and two Self-Sharpening Pencils. But you can only get this special two-for-one offer by calling now …

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Way back in 2010, when 10 Barrel Brewing was but a gleam in Carlos Brito’s numbers-crunching testes, President Barack Obama returned to a theme often broached during his historic campaign for the White House. It happened during the 2010 State of the Union address.

“The best anti-poverty program around is a world class education.”

No, not the Indiana wholesaler.

Naturally, the precise components of a “world class education” are open to interpretation, discussion and debate between open-minded citizens, assuming you can find any of them in these idiotically polarized times, but the overall sentiment that education is a corrective to impoverishment has been proven to be truthful again and again.

I submit that the word “impoverishment” has more than one meaning as used in this context. We’d be correct in the assumption that there are clear and compelling correlations between education and the eradication of material impoverishment.

However, we might also consider impoverishment in creative, artistic and cultural contexts, and how one’s attitude toward the general topic of knowledge, pertaining to its veracity as an end onto itself as well as the tangible benefits gained from expansive education as opposed to a confining illiteracy, shapes what we know and the uses to which we put our knowledge.

According to the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle, who drank wine: “With regard to excellence, it is not enough to know, but we must try to have and use it."

What I think he meant is that possessing something of supposed value for the sole purpose of the object’s ability to reflect its “value” back on the holder somewhat misses the point. The true value is derived from the object being used wisely, and a well-rounded education supplies the means to make this determination.

Given the perpetual linkages between education and personal advancement, why is it that people choose to devalue the notion of education, eschewing the why, how and wherefore, and substituting in their place a solipsistic, narcissism-driven, knee-jerk, me-first hedonism?

Perhaps it’s the logical outcome of our American strains of materialism and consumerism. When it comes to pulse-quickening snobbery, exclusionary avarice and frenzied hoarding, the very last thought surfacing in one’s fevered, acquisitive brain is the possibility that all is not what it seems.

Do you still desire the object once it is revealed that the profit chain leads straight into the Texas-sized mass of plastic in the Pacific Ocean, or to the owners of factory-farmed chickens wallowing in their own feces, or to that bastard Obama’s pocket … or, into the very coffers of ISIS (read: AB-InBev).

Except you really want it, don’t you? You want it right now – and by “it” I refer not to a mass-produced Trojan Goose barrel-aged ale, but to a blissfully unexamined version of capitalist doltishness, wherein there are no reasons whatever for diagnosing the nature of the itch, only interminable scratching.

The writer Aldous Huxley called this phenomenon soma. If you don’t know the source of this reference, perhaps it’s time to read a book.

But I’m nothing if not stubborn. Ideas matter, and yet at present, both the country at large and my own beer and brewing milieu are dismally stupid and mercilessly tacky places. These daily tsunamis of crass materialism and consumerist greed have come to define the American experience, and even when the topic is “craft” beer – perhaps modern America’s signature accomplishment – we have digressed just as quickly into 24-7, must-have shopping zombies, pausing occasionally to thank Jesus for the blessed privilege of possessing our baubles, and ignoring what’s happening in our own back yards because there’s not enough status in mere localism.

It’s the old Chinese proverb – yes, you guessed it, the one printed on plasticized card stock suitable for framing, and available not from the heirs to Billy Mays, but from Wal-Mart via Guangdong Province:

"It’s all about me."

Yes, it is.

And that’s also why you don’t interest ME any longer.

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What would happen if you combined classic sacred choral music with a thesaurus? You’d have a synonym for a seminal hymnal!

Hi, Roger Baylor here for the Sing ‘o’ Saurus. It’s no ordinary reference book.

Watch this!

ON THE AVENUES: It’s never too late to beer all over again.

ON THE AVENUES: It’s never too late to beer all over again.

A weekly column by Roger A. Baylor.

It isn’t that I’ve fallen out of love with beer. We’re not divorced or anything. A better word is estranged, which implies an alienation of affection, but doesn’t entirely rule out the possibility of reconciliation.

These thoughts occurred to me recently as I was contemplating the future of The Potable Curmudgeon, my beer-themed blog. It dates to 2005, and has enjoyed some fine moments over the years, though recently my commitment to maintaining it has waned.

Slightly less so Roger’s Simple Beer Pleasures, a page at Facebook that I started in late 2015. It is far better suited to the truncated social-media-driven attention spans ruling the planet at present, including my own, at least as it pertains to beer and brewing.

In spite of my efforts, I can’t seem to make The PC blog and Simple Pleasures work in harmony the way NA Confidential’s blog and Fb page do, primarily because my efforts are half-hearted.

There’s the rub.

I care more about what I’m writing at NA Confidential than The Potable Curmudgeon, so I’m willing to make the time at one and not the other. Taking it a step further, this indiscipline owes to my sense of estrangement from the world of beer and brewing. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy writing about beer, thinking about it and even drinking it, just that it isn’t a daily priority at present.

Consequently, I’ll be altering the routine in the weeks to come. The beer writing I undertake will be featured here at NA Confidential, and I’ll allow The Potable Curmudgeon to remain dormant as an archive.

Perhaps Fridays will be NAC’s Beer Day, or some such. Since so much of my beer writing has sought connectivity between beer and other interests in my life, putting them all in one place rather than separating them makes the most sense.

That is, until it doesn’t.

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Returning to the topic of beer estrangement, I'm actually optimistic about the potential for reconciliation, and yet those who have been burned tend to shun the fire the longest time.

My last few years at NABC weren’t excessively happy ones, a frustrating situation admittedly arising in part from my own mistakes as well as a bit too much foundational hubris, coupled with self-imposed stressors related to living and working full-tilt-gonzo.

Consequently, I’ve been compelled to examine these previous experiences in great detail, and it’s precisely like being in therapy, with pain and pleasure in maddeningly shifting measure. It’s getting better all the time, although for my own self-protection, I’m adamant about my priorities being in need of clear delineation before I consider re-upping in small business stewardship, whether on my own or in partnership with others.

Beer was my full-time job for 25 years, and it was part-time for a decade before. In many respects, beer has been my life, and while it is not my life at this precise moment, it remains important to me, enough so that lately I’ve been considering the potential terms of such an employment-based rapprochement, and during the year about to conclude, there have been more green lights than red.

I’m encouraged by a few emerging opportunities and have chosen to emulate the timeless wisdom of the hedgehog, confining myself to one big idea rather than an array of smaller ones.

This big idea goes something like this: “In terms of better beer, there still is a market for what I know how to do – and correspondingly, what I know how to do is undervalued in today’s beer marketplace.”

What I know how to do is educate and entertain in comfortable pub confines, and what I’ve learned not to do is try conquering the world. I’m hoping that accumulated insights will help me avoid previous missteps.

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In 1990, there was a paucity of choice in the beer marketplace. I set about providing these options at Rich O’s Public House, which at the time meant featuring classic imported brands, primarily from Europe. The genre eventually to be named “American craft beer” began filtering into metropolitan Louisville at roughly the same time, and a few years later we reformatted as NABC and began brewing our own beer.

This house-brewing decision led to alternating evolutions and digressions. Years passed, and the competitive landscape became altered beyond recognition. By some measures, NABC’s brewing operation has been successful these past 15 years; by others, less so, but either way it should come as no surprise, because all businesses face similar challenges.

Perhaps the problem for me is that while market conditions and business necessities changed, I didn’t.

There’s no one to blame for this situation except me. The simple truth is that the more “craft” beer became a business, the less business I had inside it. This was a necessary lesson for me to learn, and our experience at Bank Street Brewhouse (now renamed NABC Café and Brewhouse), taught it to me good and hard. I'm micro, not macro. Rinse, repeat.

For better or worse, I remain a reluctant capitalist, harboring absolutely no interest in business books, business seminars and business envy. It is possible for capitalism to suit me in small doses, so long as I’m not required to wear an actual suit. With Bank Street Brewhouse, I placed myself in the position of having to be more of a straight numbers-crunching businessman, and less of an iconoclastic teacher.

In retrospect, this wasn’t a good fit for me. The business survived, if not thrived, while I gradually died inside. It came to a point where the only way forward was severing ties with the past, which isn’t ever easy. My self-identity had become inseparable from the “craft” beer business, but the “craft” beer business had become both distant and impervious to my whims and commands. We needed to be apart for a while.

Like I said … an estrangement.

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To this very day, only one facet of “business” interests me much, and this is the notion of undervalued assets – not exactly in the sense of an undervalued stock, though similar. If the beer market is 95% insipid golden lager, then better beer is undervalued, and worth the investment in time and money. When better beer “wins,” and newcomers flock to IPA, it’s time to advocate other ways of better brewing and drinking.

My advice to myself is to allow the pendulum to swing way over to the other side. It can’t hurt me there, but I must be prepared for the time when it comes back in my direction and be ready with a deft sidestep, like Fred Astaire, because when I'm on the side of the ascendant pendulum, that’s when I can no longer win; then it's an opportunity for the folks who’ll always have more money than me, and they take the joy right out of it.

The overarching point is that 25 years later, what I started doing in the 1990s – a relentless focus on quality and the gradual process of acclimatization borne of incessant education – has gone completely by the wayside. Hardly anyone has the patience for it, and our collective shrinkage of attention spans has led to marketing by electronic flash card.

Screw that. I can do it, and I like the idea (and the odds) of following my muse full circle back to the origins, and featuring beers I know from breweries I’ve visited, both here and abroad, in a reasonably suitable setting, with boring predictability, not unlimited rotation.

It’s what I’m hoping 2017 will be about, because it’s about time, right? I need to go to the mattresses and get in beer again, and this town really needs a soap box for the resistance.

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Two July columns that explore this topic in greater detail. 

AFTER THE FIRE: Before the deluge, or knowing how this whole beer business started.

ON THE AVENUES: An imaginary exercise tentatively called The Curmudgeon Free House.

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December 1: ON THE AVENUES: Once more with feeling, because as the notable American philosopher Moe Bandy once sang, “Here I am, drunk again.”

November 17 and 24: (BYE WEEKS, literally and figuratively)

November 11: ON THE AVENUES: Kind-a full-a you know what, but now we're going to find out whether Jeff Gahan has any cattle under his hat.

November 10: ON THE AVENUES: Don't be a Dickey, local Democrats. The verdict is in, and it's time for a change.

ON THE AVENUES: An imaginary exercise tentatively called The Curmudgeon Free House.

ON THE AVENUES: An imaginary exercise tentatively called The Curmudgeon Free House. 

A weekly column by Roger A. Baylor.

In my previous column, published earlier at The Potable Curmudgeon blog, I recalled the growth of the "better" beer program 20 years ago at the Public House formerly known as Rich O’s, and found myself musing – is this word copyrighted? – whether a retro, back-to-basics, “better beer” pub program still might make sense in an era of HopCat and its 132 IPAs on tap.

AFTER THE FIRE: Before the deluge, or knowing how this whole beer business started

 ... My contrarian instincts tell me that the beer climate is ripe for a modest, thoughtful return to basics, emblemized by a relatively small list of classics on draft, and in bottles and cans, to be accompanied by some good, old-fashioned beer education, which seems to have been tossed aside in the era of mile-wide, inch-deep “craft” fandom.

It should be obvious that any conceivable template I might offer in this context, whether or not it has an immediate future, has been custom-designed in my brain for a specific potential user.

Namely, me. That's purposeful, by the way. I don't make detailed plans very often, and when I do, they're on cocktail napkins.

While it is true that I’ve often railed against cults of personality in the local political realm, and pined for the seemingly unreachable ideal of teamwork and multiple minds coming together, what I'm imagining here is a small, sustainable specialty beer café, not a multi-million-dollar City Hall filled with obscure departments and shuffling time servers.

At least it wouldn't be boring having a personality aboard ship who is capable of staging a floor show in addition to sweeping up and taking out the garbage. Entertainment and education? Been there and done that. Anyway, differentiation seldom has been a problem for me.

At the present time, I’m only thinking aloud, curious about the possibilities. Before describing them further, you must endure a digression.

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It's a story I’ve told on many occasions.

In a year’s time, Diana and I bought an old house on Spring Street in New Albany (in 2003), and George W. Bush was re-elected to a second term (2004).

These two seemingly unrelated occurrences converged with a third contingency, because by 2005, I was looking back on 15 years as a principal player in the New Albanian Brewing Company. It proved to be the right time for a sweeping reappraisal, with a mind toward the future.

Where was I going personally? What about the business, not to mention the whole country?

Providentially, my private life already had evolved for the better, because Diana completed me. It’s always best to have a solid foundation. We did, and do.

Next came a survey of the blighted downtown New Albany landscape of the period, and an insatiable urge to know what caused these empty urban doughnut holes in America – and by extension, why self-described local “leaders” seemed powerless to do anything about them.

Finally, with the curse of W forced on me a second time, there came an epiphany. As an individual, there was next to nothing I might do to change the wider world. However, perhaps the local grassroots provided the best opportunity for participation, to improve the basic building block of community, and to help make it a more solid foundation.

NABC had raised the local bar for better beer. Might my personal future as well as that of my business also be tied to the revitalization of the city’s most undervalued assets, its historic downtown business and residential districts?

Beginning in 2005 and 2006, I embarked upon a journey through a labyrinth of ever-widening learning curves pertaining to urbanism, independent business, street engineering and the enduringly senseless nature of small town hack politics. It truly has been a Long March, and the accumulation of wisdom along the way has proven exhausting.

Eventually I lost an election and gave up the business, but in the process, I regained some semblance of a soul. The jury remains sequestered in deliberation, and the learning curve goes on forever. It should suffice to say that as progress in New Albany pertains to politics, beer, business and urban affairs, there remains much work to be done.

As for me, at some point I'll have to do something with my life, right?

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In consideration of these interrelated themes, and noting the strengths and weaknesses of the startling “out of nowhere” downtown New Albany food and drink scene, a hypothetical plan is taking shape in my brain. It’s just for the fun of it, and here is the overview.

The Curmudgeon’s (purely imaginary) Free House would need a suitable location in downtown New Albany, close to my home. Why? Because it’s better to live as you preach. City officials might even try it sometimes -- you know, walk to lunch.

Limited square footage is preferable, so as to make the Free House affordable. Walkability and bikeability are musts, but as I’ve noted previously, the implementation of these realities depends entirely on the whim of King Gahan the Unclothed.

A stopped clock is right twice each day, and he’s past due. Cross your fingers, and hope that no one else is killed before he finally gets the memo.

With numerous indie eateries located near this fictional location, a crucial bit of cost reduction stands to be achieved, because absolutely no food will be served, save for that required by Indiana ATC statute. The infamous $10 prepackaged frozen weenie sandwich springs to mind, as microwaved by the eater himself, thus ensuring minimal health department involvement.

Customers would be free to order carry-out or procure delivery from the establishments nearby. There’d be bags of pretzels and crisps. That’s all. What is needed is a beer classroom, not another eatery struggling to find, train and keep workers.

An easy and inexpensive two-way Indiana beer/wine license would suffice, allowing for a few supplementary whites, reds and ciders if so desired. There is no need for liquor, and after all, the Grant Line Road location of NABC never once had a three-way permit.

Opportunism is the watchword. Limited business hours would be timed to coincide with peak times for neighboring food and drink businesses and civic events, with groups and seminars by appointment. The object is to construct a one- or two-person operation, limiting expenses and enhancing expertise.

Finally, why have distracting gadgets like televisions when everyone has a smart phone? Persistent rumor insists that Emperor Gahan of Eastridge is bringing wi-fi hot spots to downtown. That'd be useful. Otherwise, FM radio channel WFPK works just fine, and I’d be free to bring a few CDs with me to work – Bulgarian Women’s Choir today, Queens of the Stone Age tomorrow.

In short, just like the old days at the pub, when we listened to what I wanted to hear.

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I’ve put together an imaginary opening beer list. The rationale includes brevity, availability and diversity of style. There’d be appropriate glassware, which doesn’t mean “branded” glassware, just the right kind of vessel.

There’d be two everyday drafts, and one or two rotating taps (depending on the size of the keg box). Permanent fixtures would be Guinness Stout (nitro) and Victory Prima Pils, with the third spout pouring some hoppier English or American ales. A seasonal tap would take up the fourth tower.

Generally speaking, drafts would be at or near session strength (4.5% or 5% abv, depending on the definition).

The organizational conceit for a bottle and can list of 30 or so selections is my own personal experience. They’d be exclusively drawn from (a) breweries I’ve visited, both in America and abroad, and (b) breweries right here in Indiana.

BELGIUM
Cantillon Classic Gueuze
De Dolle Oerbier
Delirium Tremens
Drie Fonteinen Schaerbeekse Kriek
Fantome Saison
La Chouffe
Orval
Poperings Hommelbier
Rochefort 10
Rodenbach Grand Cru
Saison Dupont

GERMANY
Aecht Schlenkerla Marzen Rauchbier
Reissdorf Kolsch
Schneider Weisse
Uerige Classic

UNITED KINGDOM
Fuller’s ESB
JW Lees Harvest Ale
Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout

UNITED STATES (brands to be determined)
Bell’s
New Holland
Rogue
Alternates to be named

INDIANA CRAFT BEERS (cans only)

Lots and lots of choices exist at the present time: Black Acre, Bloomington Brewing Company, Central State, Daredevil, Flat12, Salt Creek, Sun King … and others.

You may be wondering about the emphasis on imports, given my advocacy for American-brewed beer. It’s a valid question, and of course, there’d be an American “craft” beer presence (in cans) on the list.

The short answer: So goes the mind of a contrarian.

My career in beer began with imports, and then I spent many years advocating for American "craft." Now American “craft" is everywhere, and the Old World classics have been overwhelmed and often forgotten. Maybe it’s time to pick up the abandoned string of Classic Beer where it started, in Europe, and once again allow the presentation to evolve where it will, as it did 25 years ago.

Will any of this actually happen?

I’ve no idea. These hypotheticals are by no means impossible, but they rely on controlling costs and curtailing bells and whistles. The more spartan the setting, the greater the importance of effective performance art and other intangibles.

Perhaps that's the point. These simple factors also have been neglected in an era of sheen and polish. I used to think that an intelligent beer bar wasn't a contradiction in terms, and still do. I believe in fundamentals and essentials; as you may recall from the 2015 campaign, these strike me as vital every single day, as opposed to every now and then.

Can better beer be repurposed this way, and taken back to the future? It’s an enticing thought, so as always, tell me what you think.

Who knows?

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July 21: ON THE AVENUES: We have our own Big Four Bridge. They’re called Main, Market, Spring and Elm.

July 14: ON THE AVENUES: Weeds, porch appliances and our civic Gospel of Appearances.

July 7: ON THE AVENUES: You say you want a resolution?

June 30: ON THE AVENUES: Irv Stumler screams, "We don't deserve two-way streets!"

June 23: ON THE AVENUES: There's no business like no business -- and it's none of your business.

Mt. St. Francis picnic is tomorrow.

Chris Morris previews tomorrow's Mt. St. Francis picnic, which he notes has been held since 1921. Back then, beer wouldn't have been sold at the picnic owing to the oppressive reality of Prohibition, but since Repeal, it's been a constant.

One of these years, I'll remember to ask the organizers if they'd like to have real beer on hand. Until then, if anyone reading this goes out to the Mount tomorrow, let us know the extent of the selection.

IF YOU GO

The Mount St. Francis Picnic will be held from 11 a.m. to midnight Saturday, Aug. 31. Chicken dinners are $9. There will be a beer garden, gambling tent, various food and games of chance. The Mount is located off U.S. 150.

Super Sunday craft beer carry-outs and advanced beer education.

A negligent AP reporter missed a super point about Sunday sales in Indiana in his piece on the Super Bowl. Indiana's small breweries and wineries have the ability to sell their own beer and wine for carry-out on Sundays, Jim Suhr. Of course, it means you can't have any Bud Light, but your dog can wait to be shampooed until after the big game, right?

Indiana liquor law could crimp Super Bowl parties

INDIANAPOLIS — Rich Pontolillo might merit a toast for his Super Bowl party preparations. He has beer and liquor stocked up ahead of the first Super Bowl ever held in his home state.

In Indiana, he didn’t have much choice about planning ahead: The state is among a handful that ban carryout liquor sales on Sundays, even with the NFL’s most-celebrated spectacle on the schedule

In other beer news, there's always educational attainment, and in this spirit, you're invited to join me for advanced sampling with “Even More to Beer,” courtesy of IUS's department of (non-credit) continuing studies.

It’s the next step beyond my popular “Here’s to Beer” introductory course, but still accessible to craft beer newcomers. In theory, students will have completed the introductory section, but if your credentials are in order, exceptions may occur.

"Even More to Beer" is still open, so register soon.

Dates and times: Wednesdays from 6:30 p.m. - 8:30 p.m.; 4 sessions starting March 7, 2012, and ending on April 4, 2012 (we'll take a night off for IUS spring break on March 28, 2012).

Tuition: $79.00

Location: NABC Pizzeria & Public House, 3312 Plaza Drive.

Class Description: We’ll be in the Brewhouse with David Pierce, NABC Director of Brewing Operations … taste how the New World’s craft revolution changed the Old … immerse our palates in eclectic Belgians … and explore Cellar Door Selections, a tasting of rarities from the Public House lock box.

To register: Call IUS at 812-941-2206 and/or go here.

Your continuing beer education: "Here's to Beer" and "Even More to Beer" non-credit IUS courses return in January, March 2012.

My "Here's to Beer" Indiana University Southeast non-credit course returns on Wednesdays in January. Enrollment is underway now. Relatively speaking, "Here's to Beer" is designed for "beginners" just coming to the sunny side of beer enthusiasm. Don't fear the dark, consider attending, and note that "Here's to Beer" is the prerequisite for the advanced course: "Even More to Beer," which will follow in March.

Yes, you must be 21. Classes take place in the Prost room at the NABC Pizzeria & Public House at 3312 Plaza Drive (just off Grant Line Road) in New Albany. For the money, you get four class sessions, generous beer samples, and a mode of presentation that hasn't yet devolved to power point. It's oral beer history, sometimes incisive, other times rambling. No two class presentations are the same, and I hope that's a recommendation.

Get on board by visiting Indiana University Southeast’s web site via the links below, and for more, read this IUS Horizon newspaper article from spring, 2010: "Non-credit course educates students on history of beer."

Here’s to Beer! (101)
January 18, 25 and February 1, 8

Even More to Beer (202)
March 7, 14, 21 and April 4*

*Note that while the course description has the last of four classes taking place on March 28, this is Spring Break week at the university, and so we'll delay until April 4

Busy, busy.

On Tuesday afternoon, the Indiana ATC made its final inspection of the Bank Street Brewhouse and signed off. Immediately afterwards, John Campbell and I drove to Indianapolis to snag the license and attend the annual meeting of the Brewers of Indiana Guild.

The guild meeting was followed by a legislative reception upstairs at Alcatraz Brewing Company. District 72 house member Ed Clere was there, and I also spoke with Charlotte Lemieux, one of State Senator Connie Sipes' staffers.

Currently there is a moratorium on legislation dealing with alcohol issues (with a minor exception), but there are rumblings that come April, all bets are off and there will be consideration of revenue enhancers, i.e., increased excise taxes on alcoholic beverages. The craft brewers of Indiana will wait and see on that prospect, retaining our ultimate legislative goal of parity with small wineries when it comes to regulatory matters like Sunday off-premise sales (small wineries are the sole Indiana entity permitted to vend their wares for carry-out on Sunday, while small brewers are prohibited from doing so).

Speaking of neighboring wineries, here's the link to a recent article on the River City Winery in downtown NA: New Albany’s River City Winery slated to open in April, by Sarah Jeffords Pister (Business First of Louisville).

On Wednesday night I was in the Prost room at NABC Grant Line, teaching BeerEd as a non-credit IUS course. The biweekly LEO column was given over to a preview: Beer class tonight.

On Thursday, BeerEd became a road show, as we moved the materials and teaching aides to the Bank Street Brewhouse and substituted the serving corps for Wednesday's adult students: Scenes from employee training at the Bank Street Brewhouse, March 5.

I realize that you're waiting on a Bank Street status report, so ...

The front of the house is 95% complete. Various inspections are taking place today, and I believe this means that we'll be ready to open the doors in a limited capacity some time next weekend, perhaps Thursday, March 12. Keep your eyes on the blog, and as soon as there is news to report, you'll know.

Right now, we don't even know.