12 Days of Slovenia & Trieste (Part 5): The Ljubljana Beer Guide, or beer with a socialist in an ex-socialist country.

Union Pub.

It seems that Ljubljana, Slovenia is a hot spot for craft beer, which also is the case in Tallinn (Estonia), where we visited in 2016.

As recounted earlier, I was much enamored of the local Union Pivo ("beer") when gliding through Ljubljana in 1987, this being the golden lager from a brewery founded in the 1800s, and not to be confused with Pints&union in New Albany.

Tellingly, today's Union brewery (owned by Heineken and merged with Laško, another Slovene brewery) has installed a restaurant and pub inside the old malt house, where a small brewing system produces new styles for on-premise drinking. I definitely want to go there.

As for the myriad beer options of the craft variety, this guide looks quite promising. We have three days, which is time enough to skim the surface.

The Ultimate Ljubljana Beer Guide and the Biggest Lie in Slovenia, by Tjaša Janovljak (Prostly)

If you were to hear the phrase “Slovenia’s biggest lie”, you might think that it would have something to do with our tendency to exaggerate our heroic history or to downplay the small size of our country. But that’s not the case. Slovenia’s biggest lie is, in fact, about drinking, and its one I’ve heard my entire life: “Let’s have one beer.”

It should come as no surprise that my fellow citizens have embraced the so-called craft beer revolution like so many others around the world. And, like in many other countries, it began slowly in our capital and spread throughout Slovenia resulting in the unprecedented growth of craft breweries, gypsy breweries and craft beer bars. It got insane – so insane that no sane person ten years ago would have been able to imagine how many different beers are now available. Even people who work in the beer industry aren’t able to provide an exact number of breweries in Slovenia, let alone the number of different beers being produced across the country.

So, to help you get your bearings in Slovenia’s capital, here’s a guide to the best Ljubljana beer bars, breweries, and bottle shops by a born and raised local who appreciates a refreshing pint.

New England Vacation Vignette 6: A few good beers while we're at it.

It's what everyone does, right? They string together photos of what they're drinking, and leave it to Pavlov for viewers to drool.

Just this once I will, too. Our week in and around Northampton MA wasn't designed as a beerdrinking excursion, but of course opportunities arose. We made stops at old favorites Northampton Brewery and Whetstone (in Brattleboro VT), and Diana's niece's husband saved a few local beers to sample. They were quite nice.

As an aside, here's a relevant link.

A Sea of Hoppy Sameness — In Search of New England’s IPA, by Bryan Roth (Good Beer Hunting)

... While Brut IPA's bone-dry effervescence is something of an of-the-moment anti-New England IPA, there's no denying the ongoing attachment drinkers have to hazy and juicy beers. In the same way that Dogfish Head is exploring the unclaimed white space of "better for you" beers, Lord Hobo recognizes an opening in the market.

"It's obviously not as crowded at the 11% range," Day says. "Which is fantastic." The expectation for the brewery was to sell as many as 10,000 cases of the beer during its three-month run across Lord Hobo’s entire distribution footprint, the equivalent of 725 BBLs. Museum also fits within a generally accepted idea of what new and on-trend IPA should be in New England.

In short, the evolution of New England IPA now points toward juiciness and high gravity -- or, even more numbing chagrin for an ex-brewery owner who now sees that if we'd only done NABC Hoptimus as a New England IPA, then maybe ...

Whatever. It wouldn't have mattered, and so I return to my Wernesgruner.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Mexican beer versus craft-brewed, Mexican-style beer.

Back in the day when beer judging actually mattered to me, I was fond of saying that if one were to take Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) and other aggregations of beer style definitions at face value, the most accurate and clever of the definitions thus far devised would be the ones describing Miller Lite and its emasculated ilk.

These definitions invariably were written as a litany of comical negations -- this beer sample submitted for judging can't have any evidence of malt and mustn't have hop character ... best examples are clean, crisp, odorless and entirely without flavor.

In short, all but the faintest traces of those qualities separating beer from carbonated water were to be removed almost entirely for the beer in question to be representative of style -- with the margin for error always tilted toward fizzy wateriness.

This brings me to Mexican lagers, and before wading into the trend nouveau swamp, allow me to issue a reasonably honest disclaimer, in that I've waited a very long time to dip a quivering toe into this topic.

First it was necessary for me to complete my beer snob rehabilitation course. I'll never be fully recovered, but I'm much better now. I remain determined to avoid liquid atrocities like Bud Light touching my lips, and yet there is peace in my tattered soul; if you want to subject yourself to the senselessness, it's fine and dandy with me. Go right ahead and urinate a lot.

Live and let drink swill, I say, and no longer do I have any compelling interest in explaining the error of your ways -- well, except today, as insinuated by the words I'm writing.

(My therapist kinda/sorta approves the preceding message.) 

For most of my adult life, the preceding antipathy to flavorless beer has applied as much to standard golden Mexican lagers as low-calorie American marketing exercises. There's a caveat, however. Dos Equis (the Amber version) and Negra Modelo are different.

While not exuberantly flavorful, there's enough Vienna or Munich malt in them to make the game worth the flame, especially with Mexican food -- although Negra Modelo's claim to be a Munich Dunkel seems contrived to me.

As it pertains to all those golden-colored Mexican lagers, it can't really be asserted that they have much to do with Vienna anything; it's more about corn and faint hints of grain and hops, eternally touted on the basis on thirst-quenching capability.

Again: fine. Have at them and exercise your kidneys. What I find exceedingly curious about all of this is the (fairly) new wave of craft-brewed, Mexican-style lagers.

(Further reading: What makes a Mexican-style lager?)

It puzzles me because of a very simple distinction: If a craft brewery succeeds in mimicking a Mexican golden lager, then it has produced a flavorless beer which usually will cost 25% more than the genuine article.

And, if the objective is replicating Negra Modelo -- as Daredevil in Indianapolis has done quite tastily, the price differential might be closer to 30% more.

It isn't my aim to stomp on creative exuberance, just to point out that mass market economies of scale are neither friendly nor available to craft brewers who conjure flavorlessness rather than flavor. Speaking only for myself, I'd just as soon pay less for the beer from Mexican -- you can do as you please with no riposte from me.   

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As a postscript, something not about Mexico at all.

Festivals: 10 of the UK’s most scenic beer festivals, by Tony Naylor

Beer and beauty combine at these brews with a view events at both rural and city locations across the country

PINTS & UNION PORTFOLIO: It’s still better dancing with the table beer than sleeping on the floor.

A long time ago when I first visited Belgium harboring the crazy idea that I'd drink the country dry of traditional ale, there'd be these bottles on the market shelf with replaceable plastic caps and a budget traveler's dream price tag.

Closer examination revealed why; they were "table beers" of very low alcohol content, suitable for thirst-quenching by those (I'm one) who find little value in sticky sweet soft drinks -- or, as was explained to me at the time, intended to take the place of those awful little cartons of milk at American school cafeterias, because Belgian schoolchildren drank table beer, not liquid bovine snot.

Verily, the stork dropped me on the wrong continent.

Like most other beer styles and traditions embraced by Americans during the years of the craft beer explosion, table beer has undergone a metamorphosis into something different than it ever was, explained here.

What Is Table Beer, the Beer We've Been Seeing Everywhere?, by Alex Delany (Bon Appetit)

No, table beer isn't just when you put a beer on your table.

 ... Historically, a table beer was a beer for everyone at the table, most prominent in Belgium and France. Your mom. Her friend Carol. Your great uncle Victor. And the kids. All of the kids. Like, six year-old kids, drinking beer with their 16th century meatloaf. In medieval Europe, table beers usually contained less than one percent ABV.

But, yeah, kids used to drink beer. At the table. Not behind the shed in their friend Chad’s backyard. Table beer (or biere de table) varied widely in color, but probably tasted something like soaking Wheaties in water and then squeezing out all of that absorbed liquid. Kinda bready. Kinda sweet. Gently carbonated (or maybe totally still).

These days, table beer is a bit different ... in Indianapolis, Central State Brewing is canning an easily crushable, pleasantly tart, 4% table beer that tastes something like lemon curd spread over a baguette. It’s the ideal “I am currently sitting in a chair on a porch/deck/balcony/patio and have no intention of moving,” beer.

We're carrying 16-ounce cans of Central State Table at Pints&union.

Table Beer

Rustic Blonde Ale

Table is a rustic blonde ale fermented with our unique yeast strains and brewed in the style of French and Belgian style table beers.

Malt Bill: Indiana-Grown 2-Row and Rye

Hops: Noble varieties, varies from batch to batch

Yeast: CSB House Yeast Blend

ABV: 4%

Got to Pints&union, get a burger and drink Central State Table with it. You won't be disappointed. In closing, allow me to point out that my personal interest in table beer didn't begin yesterday. During my former career at NABC, we formulated a session-strength table beer somewhere around the year 2009, and it was a great favorite of mine for volume consumption.

NABC Tafel Bier

Belgian-style “Table” Beer

ABV: 4%

IBU: 15

OG: 1.040, or 10 degrees Plato

It’s better dancing on the table than sleeping on the floor. Tafel Bier is the Flemish language term for “table beer,” denoting a flavorful session strength accompaniment to the wonders of Belgian cuisine … or burgers and wings, too. What do you think filled those earthenware jugs in the Brueghel painting? It wasn’t Bud Light Lime, was it?

Malts: Belgian Pale, Aromatic, Biscuit, CaraPils

Hops: German Tettnanger, Select

Yeast: House Ardennes

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: "The world's most 'hand-crafted' beer is cask ale."

Totnes 2013. This guy cared.

The excellent beer writer Jeff Alworth sets the record straight.

No other brewing genre requires the time and effort required to render proper cask-conditioned "real" ales -- but boy, when done correctly, there's nothing I'd rather drink.

THE WORLD’S MOST “HAND-CRAFTED” BEER IS CASK ALE, by Jeff Alworth (Beervana)

Pete didn’t say it, but I will: cask ale is not just the most important symbol of British brewing, it’s also one of the hardest to make beers, the craftiest beers, and, when it’s made and served properly, the best beers on the planet. Nearly everyone seems to hold cask in contempt, even while they fall in love with Bavarian kellerbier (a poor man’s cask beer) and hazy IPA and rustic saison. If I were English, I’d be swanning around bragging about making the best and most difficult beer. The problem is, that’s not a very British thing to do, is it? Well, take my word for it as a braggy American, it is the hardest to make, and the most hand-crafted.

My mouth is watering just thinking about it. Of course, doing it correctly is not something that we can take for granted. The excellent British beer writer Martyn Cornell explains.

Almost nine out of ten pints of cask beer sold in Britain are sold after the cask they came from has been open for at least three days. According to CGA, almost 90 per cent of cask ale brands sold at below the rate of 18 pints per tap per day required to maintain quality. The typical cask of beer is still on sale seven or more days after it has been opened. This is exactly the same as making a sandwich on Monday, and still having it on sale a week later. The bread will be stale, the filling long past its best. Anybody buying that week-old sandwich is unlikely, after trying it, to buy a sandwich from you again. Cask beer is a perishable product: it loses its best qualities very quickly, certainly within a few days. Most pubs ignore this, and as a result most cask beer is sold a long way off from peak condition.

Cornell sees part of the problem in pub landlords and managers who don't drink cask-conditioned ale. He believes concern is merited.

In the past five years, cask ale sales have dropped by 20 per cent, while the overall beer market has fallen by just over nine per cent. At that rate of decline, cask ale will effectively have vanished in a few decades. Meanwhile “craft” beer, defined for the purposes of this argument as non-mainstream keg beers made by small brewers, has leapt from nowhere ten years ago to six per cent of the on-trade beer market in 2018. I drink “craft” beer in a pub occasionally, but I do not believe I will ever have a pint of “craft” as wonderful as the very best cask ale can be. If cask ale disappears, then to misquote Hilaire Belloc, drown your empty selves, for you will have lost the best of England.

Here in New Albany at Pints&union, the one genre of world brewing I'd like to do the most is the one I cannot do at all: cask-conditioned "real" ale. America's not built for it, and I regret this almost every single day.

We also aren't configured for stargazy pie -- but at least it's remotely conceivable.

Is anyone at Hull & High Water reading?

THE BEER BEAT: Everybody wants to rule the world -- maybe "craft" beer will, too.

Lew Bryson's column is linked below, but first: Beer with a Socialist.

If you missed it earlier at Facebook, my friend Jonathan Kiviniemi had the best idea ever:

"An event popped into my feed, 'Beer with a Scientist' at Against the Grain and I misread it as 'Beer with a Socialist' and instantly wondered what you were doing with ATG."

This is exactly what the world of beer commentary is sorely lacking: Beer with a Socialist. I'm grateful to Jonathan for the idea, and will owe him a beer of three is this goes anyplace.

Now, give it up for Lew Bryson and another thought-provoking (and fun) column at The Daily Beast.

Has American Craft Beer Taken Over the World?

 ... It should come as no surprise that American brewers are now finding jobs across Europe, Asia, and Africa. But they’re not going around the world to learn from locals but to make the same beers they’ve made at home, and they’re a hit.

That’s quite a reversal. When the craft beer movement began in America in the 1970s, there were already lots of small breweries in countries like Germany, Belgium, and the UK. Many of them made great beer, fantastic beer. But they made the traditional beers of their respective lands and cultures: lagers and wheat beers in Germany, a relatively narrow variety of malt-forward ales in the UK, and an eccentric but consistent array of ales in Belgium.

Just as in the U.S., there were some new small brewers that opened in Europe, Scandinavia and Japan. But unlike their American counterparts, they made beer using the national template, perhaps gently tweaked. I remember going to several “house” breweries in the Czech Republic that served a variety of pilsners, some flavored with herbs, some unfiltered. British brewers made porters, pale ales, summer ale, and mild.

American craft brewers on the other hand, impatiently floored it and blew the doors off brewing. (What else would you have expected?) Not only did this approach work but over the past 15 years these upstarts have been able to claim an ever increasing chunk out of the very profitable U.S. beer market. Their wildly different beers—IPAs running on overdrive, “imperial” everything, “session” this and that, big barrel-aged beers, and crazy, hazy New England IPA—have become best-sellers.

The world’s next generation of brewers was intently watching this beer revolution and soon began emulating their American counterparts ...

ON THE AVENUES with THE BEER BEAT: Beef Steak and Porter always made good belly mortar, but did America’s “top” steakhouses get the memo?

ON THE AVENUES with THE BEER BEAT: Beef Steak and Porter always made good belly mortar, but did America’s “top” steakhouses get the memo?

A weekly column by Roger A. Baylor.

You can always tell when I'm looking forward to a meal.

This essay has not appeared previously at NA Confidential. However, it ran at Potable Curmudgeon on February 22, 2016.

As usual with vintage pieces, there's a necessary update. The downtown Louisville location of Z's closed temporarily in late winter 2017, with the disruption attributed to the renovation of the Kentucky International Convention Center.

Management says the steakhouse will return once the dust clears, and let's hope they do, although it remains that for the Confidentials, walking down two-way Spring Street to Brooklyn is more likely than driving to Louisville.

Finally, note the distinct possibility that the Café de la Paix meal described at essay's end stands an excellent chance of being repeated in just a few days.

Which may be the entire reason for this column in the first place.

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ON THE AVENUES with THE BEER BEAT: Beef Steak and Porter always made good belly mortar, but did America’s “top” steakhouses get the memo?

Once upon a time during a previous life, so long ago that Michael Jordan still played for Da Bulls, I had dinner at Louisville’s branch of Ruth’s Chris Steak House.

The restaurant was (and is) perched on the 16th floor of the Kaden Tower, with a spectacular view of the Watterson Expressway and adjoining suburbs, complete with a hazy filter of exhaust fumes as a soothing background for selfies, which of course didn’t even exist at the time.

It was a fine evening, and while I’ve long since forgotten what I ate and drank that night, there remains one serviceable memory of the occasion: Looking around the dining room and seeing lots of customers in the process of cheerfully dropping C-notes for an appetizer, entrée and dessert, then washing down these fruits of their expense accounts with $5 Miller Lites – often straight from the bottle.

In short, nauseating and revolting, although I’m prepared to concede something important, for the fact that I even noticed this scene probably says a lot more about me and the gnawing of my own resident demons than Ruth’s Chris Steak House or its habitués.

After all, I’m neither a frequent consumer of steaks nor a regular patron of those restaurants specializing in them. It alarms me that so far in 2016, I’ve eaten four hamburgers, which probably equals my total from all of last year.

For me, beef should be safe, legal … and rare.

Accordingly, earlier this month, for the first time in a year, we enjoyed an excellent night out with friends at Z’s Oyster Bar and Steakhouse in downtown Louisville.

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It should surprise no one to learn that such an evening constituted a major splurge, but even if we were wealthy, it isn’t something we’d probably do regularly.

If for no other reason, my gout medicine soon would be overwhelmed by the blood, shellfish and Port.

Z’s is pricey, and very good. A half-dozen tasty West Coast oysters at a place like Z’s cost more than the entrée at most of my usual haunts, and three hours later, after an entire bottle of Malbec, half of an unfortunate heifer and a glass or two of Graham’s Six Grapes for dessert, with various other nibbles scattered throughout, I was heavier around the waist and lighter in the wallet.

Exemplary ... and here is the Z’s beer list.

Amstel Light 5.95
Buckler 4.5
Bud Light 4.5
Budweiser 4.5
Coors Light 4.5
Corona Extra 5.95
Heineken 5.95
Hoegaarden 6.95
Goodwood American Pale Ale 6.95
Goodwood Bourbon Barrel Stout 8.75
Kentucky Ale 5.95
Kentucky Ale Bourbon Barrel 8.75
Michelob Ultra 5.95
Miller Lite 4.5
Sierra Nevada IPA 6.95 (presumably Torpedo)
Stella Artois 6.5

In truth, it’s a better selection than I would have imagined.

Nine golden lagers in varying shades of quantifiably insipid, but two barrel-aged beers and two hops-forward options. To be sure, congratulations are due them for featuring four local beers. All in all, the list could be worse.

It also could be better.

(A disclaimer: In no way is any of this to be construed as a complaint about Z’s. Everything about my experiences there – food, service and atmosphere – have been uniformly excellent. My head-scratching extends beyond a single eatery, to the realm of universals.)

Why is it that the American model of “steakhouse” in the context of Z’s, Ruth’s Chris and so many others invariably – inevitably, infuriatingly – shortchanges beer options, which nowadays are plentiful and stylistically varied, but also would immeasurably enhance the overall experience for those so inclined?

Perhaps the simplest answer is best. There is no documentary evidence to suggest that the customer base of such a steakhouse desires beer choice. Moreover, the profit margin on wine and liquor surely dwarfs the return on beer, so only a few popular lagers are kept around for the die-hards, and that’s that.

I’ve long since learned to mournfully adapt. Precisely because my operating assumption is that steakhouses customarily downplay beer, I harbor absolutely no expectations once I’ve resolved to dine at one of them.

Instead, I generally drink wine, all the while imagining what certain styles of beers would taste like paired with interesting menu items.

Admittedly my sampling is small, and exceptions surely plentiful. Just last week, Brooklyn and The Butcher opened in New Albany, and while the “see cow, eat cow” cognoscenti can debate whether it should be compared with the preceding and other similar establishments, the short beer list at Brooklyn already is certifiably better than the one at Z’s.

Consequently, in the future when a splurge is merited, I know where I’ll be walking.

In the interim, I’m left to ponder examples of how it might be done better, and that’s easy. In my tortured, beer-forward universe, there already exists a model for how this might work.

It’s called Belgium – the country and its beers.

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Specifically, the Café de la Paix on the main square in Poperinge, which I cite here because only a year and a half ago, we ate there. The same is true of the dining room at the Hotel Palace, a scant 200 yards away, but we didn’t make it to the Palace in 2014. Needless to say, there is a corresponding example in every town of size in the country, at large.

Café de la Paix is a full service restaurant, offering an excellent wine list and a full bar in addition to a lengthy beer sheet. Is it the exact equal of Z’s or Ruth’s Chris? I doubt it, but to reiterate, the point is to illustrate how beer and steak go together.

Here is what I had for dinner.

Opener: Escargot with Rodenbach Grand Cru. The oyster-like texture of snails, slathered in garlic and butter, with a classically sour, wood-aged red ale to cut through the richness.

Main Course: Steak (medium rare) with Béarnaise sauce, green salad, frites and De Dolle Oerbier; the latter is malty, fruity and complex, and elegantly fills the slot red wine might otherwise occupy.

Closer: Rochfort 10, and a stolen bit of a fellow diner’s tart. Still one of the top Trappists on the planet, and a dark, rich dessert in a bottle.

Total cost: Somewhere around $50.

Fifty bucks, forty Euros; they’d buy plenty of groceries here or in Europe – and this is utterly irrelevant. It was a special occasion, and cause for celebration. Add my wife’s meal and drinks, recall that the gratuity is included, and know that this wonderful, beer-friendly meal was one-third the cost of our recent Z’s feast … and not only that, outside it was Belgium, not Louisville.

Priceless, wouldn’t you say?

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Recent columns:

September 7: ON THE AVENUES with THE BEER BEAT: We are dispirited in the post-factual beer world.

August 31: ON THE AVENUES: On a wig and a prayer, or where's the infidel gardening column?

August 26: ON THE AVENUES SATURDAY SPECIAL: One-ways on the way out, because with downtown at a crossroads, they simply had to be exterminated.

August 24: ON THE AVENUES: PourGate (the Great Beer Pour War of 2013) and Dr. Tom's prescription: "Kneel and Kiss My Ring, You Degraded Alcoholic."

To hell with this. I'm going to a ballgame.

Road trip!

Cincinnati Reds vs. St. Louis Cardinals, at Great American Ball Park, June 8, 2017

I love day games.

I love day games on a Thursday in June when the high temperature is only 76 degrees.

I love them even more when someone else drives. Thanks, Mark. I'm taking a vacation day from blogging. If there's to be an ON THE AVENUES column this week, it will come on Friday.

Or whenever.

Now for the important news: What to Drink at a Cincinnati Reds Game, and also this:

Expect to see many of the same breweries as last year, but they'll change the offerings up a bit. In moves fitting for a baseball stadium, MadTree's PsycHOPathy will be replaced with the brewery's Rounding Third Red IPA, and Rhinegeist's Truth with its Hustle. In addition to those, you'll also find offerings from several other local breweries: Blank Slate, Braxton, Listermann, Moerlein, Mt. Carmel and Rivertown.

THE BEER BEAT: A neighborhood dive bar for the post-craft beer world?

Samuel Smith Brewery, Tadcaster UK ... 2001. 

In my current frame of mind, what makes so many contemporary beer drinking venues unrewarding isn't bad beer. On the contrary, there's lots more good beer than ever before.

Rather, it's feeling like a lab rat, as though you're part of an ongoing experiment in anxiety escalation -- like an arms race, always hoppier, sourer, stronger and plain weirder; the wheel constantly is revolving, and there's nothing upon which to hang one's metaphorical chapeau for longer than one keg (a sixth barrel), lest another begin pouring the diametrical opposite.

Granted, a dive bar is something very different.

CALLING REGULAR BARS 'DIVES' IS AN INSULT… TO DIVE BARS, by T.S. Flynn (Thrillist)

... By the end of the '80s, the term "dive" even began appearing in the names of new drinking establishments -- a trend that, regrettably, continues to this day. One of the first, Christy’s Dive Bar in Boca Raton, FL, opened in a shopping mall in 1987. "I liked the idea of a casual, come-as-you-are, regular-guy place,” owner Allen Christy told the Boca Raton News.

Of course, it took more than a couple of cult movies and a mall bar in Boca to turn "dive" into a wildly misapplied and overused appellation. The culprits are legion, but I suspect the rise of the internet and the popularity of clickbait articles and a certain Food Network show deserve the lion's share of blame. In 2006, Food Network aired an intended one-off special featuring a spiky-haired host named Guy Fieri, who invited viewers to join him on a road trip to America's best diners, drive-ins, and dives. Ten years and 260 episodes later, the frost-tipped huckster has yet to visit a true dive.

However, I contend that "craft" beer needn't be seen as something that replaces the neighborhood bar as in Chan's scenario below. I think better beer can be a valued component of precisely this sort of neighborhood bar, one run according to time-honored principles of consistency and predictability: Three fixed taps that don't rotate, plus a couple that do, and maybe a keg of cider. A few well-chosen cans and bottles. Some light food ... and dependable service.

Instead of the bill of fare spinning around like an unceasing Ferris wheel, perhaps a publican might concentrate on the things that always delineated the finest qualities of a neighborhood bar. Merely do it with better beer than before -- not RateAdvocate's top rating, just better. Solid. Reliable.

Let the room stop spinning, and maybe we can have a conversation. Is that so revolutionary?

What Happens When Craft Beer Replaces Your Neighborhood Bar?, by Tristan Chan (PorchDrinking)

 ... We need places like Jake’s, Phil’s Place and Cold Crush. We desperately need these safe havens for all cultures, demographics, socioeconomic classes, and identities, that allow these regional melting pots to come together for a beer. We need a place to watch the game over a hot plate of wings without paying LoDo prices, battling for LoDo parking, warding off LoDo personalities. We need funky eclectic murals of Von Miller spanning the length of the building. And while I’ll likely frequent the upcoming RiNo Beer Garden once it opens in 2-3 months (and I’ll probably end up loving it), what we honestly don’t really need right now is another beer bar.

THE BEER BEAT: "HopCat is the craft beer lover’s meow."

For those who aren't aware, I've been contributing beer columns to Food & Dining Magazine for at least a decade. Lately the publisher John Carlos White has widened my scope a tad, as with the current issue's feature on the Mala Idea line of mezcal.

Previously I've reprinted my F & D columns at the Potable Curmudgeon blog, which is on hiatus.

Follow this link to view previous columns.

Since Food & Dining is a quarterly, I wait until the current issue is published, then backtrack three months for the reprint, so this profile of HopCat is from Winter 2016; Vol. 54 (August/September/October) -- and yes, HopCat is a chain pub and eatery.

I'll concede to a raised eyebrow when the assignment was made, because I spend a good deal of time railing against chain-think. On the other hand, when you're being paid to write, polemics shrink in importance. As a former board member on the Brewers of Indiana Guild, I can testify to HopCat's support of Indiana breweries and the guild's activities.

It's simple: What HopCat does, it does quite well, and while my personal preference is an intimate setting (as an example, Holy Grale), the world of beer always has allowed for "big," as I set out to explain in the essay. In my view, I got the story right, and had a good time researching it. As always, your thoughts are welcome.

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LIQUIDS | HIP HOPS | HopCat is the craft beer lover’s meow

The anti-chain thrives on localism, sustainability and great beer

HopCat is a beer bar like the Rolling Stones are a rock band and LeBron James is a basketball player. Simple descriptions don’t always tell the whole story.

In fact, HopCat is a craft beer conundrum. It’s a growing Midwestern company boasting 12 regional locations, with more to come, and yet each one generally has more locally-brewed beers on tap than nearby “indie” craft beer bars.

Uniquely tailored to their chosen neighborhoods, HopCat locations consciously seek to be as much a part of their community as the mom and pop joint right down the street.

HopCat garners national praise, but it soft-pedals superlatives, modestly describing itself as “a home for craft beer lovers,” as well as promoting recycling and sustainability, engaging with local breweries and beer geeks, and serving food “like mom would make if she loved craft beer.”

That is, if your mom had room for an eye-popping 132 draft beers, which is HopCat’s signature.

Louisville’s HopCat opened for business in August near the intersection of Bardstown Road and Grinstead Drive. It occupies a refashioned commercial structure, seating around 500 (!) people amid two floors and a rooftop beer garden.

Perhaps the best way to understand HopCat’s conceptual lineage is to consider the traditional Bavarian beer hall, meant to function as a “beer city” within the larger expanse outside its doors.

The Bavarian beer hall is a showplace, built for the express purpose of accommodating huge nighttime crowds, and capable of serving beers and food to hundreds of guests as the oom-pah bands entertain, and the rafters gyrate.

However, the daily soul of a Bavarian beer hall is far more subtle. During non-peak hours, it plays host to a varied social tableau, harboring isolated nooks, colonnaded galleries, mysterious private rooms and outdoor seating areas where people from all stations of life take precious moments to relax.

Some have a bite to eat. Others drink steins of beer. Creased newspapers are passed from person to person. There are chess games, raucous conversations, sporting wagers and dreamy ceiling-staring.

In a pleasingly egalitarian way, HopCat reflects this timeless Bavarian culture, though it’s also the cutting edge where American craft beer’s older school meets its newest wave; after all, there are 132 craft beers on tap, as opposed to four or six at a beer hall in Munich.

Craft beer’s emerging vanguard craves diversity borne of expanding choice. No wonder craft beer lovers feel at home at HopCat.

Burning this draft card makes absolutely no sense.

HopCat’s 132 taps signify the dizzying proliferation of draft beer during our contemporary age. The new norm is 12 to 20 draft lines at a bar or restaurant, and there is much more to a successful draft program than meets the bar fly’s eye.

A draft system is complicated. A specialized contractor builds the draft systems for all HopCats, and in Louisville, the friendly folks at Drinkswell maintain it, because once the equipment is installed and the kegs are tapped, a fanatically rigorous approach to cleanliness is imperative.

Accordingly, HopCat’s 132 draft lines are cleaned twice monthly, which costs the bar more than Drinkswell’s fee, as any beer already inside a draft line is lost when cleaning takes place. This translates into two-and-a-half pints of beer per keg, multiplied by 132, or five kegs of beer a month willingly sacrificed to ensure quality.

It’s enough to make a grown man cry, but luckily, keg reinforcements are available in abundance, literally hundreds of them, as handled by a half-dozen Kentucky wholesaling companies, who represent dozens of America’s 4,700 craft breweries, in addition to vending product lines from overseas breweries.

Seen from this angle, 132 taps look more like a bottleneck than a cornucopia. Craft beer lovers have 132 savory choices at HopCat. Concurrently, HopCat has five or six times this number of beers from which to choose.

How to decide, and who makes the decision?

Chase Myers does.

Meet the master draughtsman.

On a humid, 90-degree scorcher in early September, I met Myers for the first time, only to find HopCat’s inaugural Beer Program Manager swaddled in a thick winter’s hoodie.

“People ask me why I’m always wearing a sweatshirt,” he smiled. “It’s because I spend so much time in the walk-in cooler.”

Chilly beer coolers aren’t for the faint of heart. A standard American keg weighs 160 pounds filled, and in a world gone robotic, replete with selfie sticks, self-service buffets, self-checkout lanes at the grocery and even self-driving cars, one invention is lacking: The self-stacking, auto-tapping keg of beer.

“Do you want to see the walk-in?”

Absolutely, so up the staircase we went, because HopCat’s walk-in cooler is situated directly above the main ground floor bar. A brightly lit space the size of a handball court, it is immaculately scrubbed and organized.

Gleaming stainless steel kegs are stacked in rows on three sides, with lines and gauges all around. An imposing mass towering in the middle comprises HopCat’s core lineup of 20 non-rotating Kentucky beers, which Myers said would increase to 30 when practicable.

For Derek Selznick, the Executive Director of the Kentucky Guild of Brewers, HopCat’s Local 20 is the perfect deal-maker.

"HopCat offers a tremendous opportunity to highlight and push Kentucky’s craft breweries,” Selznick told me by e-mail. “They feature beers from 12 different breweries in Louisville, Lexington and Paducah, which represents the great and growing diversity of Kentucky’s craft beer industry.”

Naturally, the same is true of HopCat outlets in Nebraska, Wisconsin and Michigan. Beer aficionados might grouse about the feline’s sheer size, but for local craft brewers, placement at HopCat is helpful, indeed.

When liquid bread isn’t enough, a cracking good kitchen.

HopCat’s craft beers rotate constantly, but its kitchen is the real foundation, anchoring the proceedings with an array of “homemade comfort foods.” They’re familiar, but with signature twists and numerous options to keep things interesting.

The pizza is Detroit-style, square and thick. Offbeat toppings include cheese curds, porter mushrooms and stout caramelized onion. A custom blend of brisket and sirloin goes into each half-pound burger, but turkey and veggie burgers are available, too. The Mac and Cheese comes as is, or garnished with Polish sausage, fried egg salad or pickled jalapenos.

Crack Fries are the biggest seller on the HopCat food menu. They’re beer-battered (with Pabst, not craft beer), seasoned with herbs and pepper, and function as the American craft beer equivalent of Bavaria’s salty, soft pretzel.

The pairing opportunities are infinite. Come to think of it, this may be on purpose.

Back at the bar, it was time to examine the oversized, color-coded HopCat beer list, which noticeably highlights the Local 20, then proceeds through the remaining 112, numbered and grouped by style: Ambers & Browns, Pales & IPA, Belgians, and more. Another section lists beers due for tapping soon.

“The menu is printed twice each week,” said Myers, “On Monday to catch up from the weekend, and again on Friday to get ready for the next one.”

The menu also serves as a convenient touchstone for HopCat’s two-pronged program of education, targeting consumer and employee alike.

Myers keeps bartenders and servers informed through style training, morning tastings, messages, and fact sheets posted near the staff’s locker room. It’s easy to imagine them gathering to watch game films.

I ordered a Falls City Kentucky Common and popped the questions: How do you choose 132 beers to pour at HopCat? Is there a top-secret algorithm? A sophisticated computer program?

Myers just laughed.

“No, not at all. I look at the wholesaler sheets, sample the beers and every now and then, go on-line for some background.”

That’s it, folks; back to the basics, and oh-so-delightfully retro.

It isn’t easy being the kid in the candy store, though at HopCat, Myers is ensuring that Louisville’s craft beer lovers have a place to call home. We appreciate it.

THE BEER BEAT: The rumorama insists that Bluegrass Brewing Company (St. Matthews) will soon cease operations, but is a plot twist coming?

January 24 update: Sources tell me that rumors are unfounded, and there WILL BE NO CLOSURE of BBC on January 29. I believe these sources. Nothing to see here. Please move along.  

On Saturday evening, social media began lighting up with reports that the last day of business for Bluegrass Brewing Company's original location in St. Matthews would be Sunday, January 29.

Two old friends were there for dinner last night, and their server let them know. Another friend learned the same way, and still others have stopped by to pick up their Wort Hog Club mugs. A few employees issued social media "wait and sees," and we must do so, although something clearly is afoot.

Sunday passed without official confirmation of these reports, perhaps because the various rumors all came with an asterisk attached: The "other" BBC location at 3rd and Main opposite the KFC Yum! Center, which has its own small brewing system, is to remain open for business.

My prediction: Whatever else comes of this, it probably has far more to do with the price of square footage in St. Matthews and pure, hard business decisions than a decline in popularity. There are no indications that business hasn't been good, but it's an expensive piece of ground, and the entertainment demographic in St. Matthews has changed considerably.

Also, BBC's owner Pat Hagan recently expanded his portfolio to include a Craft House in Crescent Hill and another in Germantown. The latter was euthanized after only a few months in operation, and a new fast casual concept (with the same ownership) is about to reappear there under the banner Goss Ave. Pub.*

There's nothing like bleeding money to suggest reining in costs and recouping cash, especially if Hagan still is planning on rebuilding the 4th Street location in the new Kindred Building.

If so, perhaps St. Matthews is the redundant cog in spite of its ancient tradition and the fact that the older brewery kit there was upgraded within the past couple of years, when brewer David Pierce returned after a stint at NABC.

The market for used equipment remains solid, and the smaller 3rd Street brewery would be capable of supporting the remaining locations. Regrettably, jettisoning the St. Matthews brewhouse has a certain logic.

I'm just like one of those ex-coaches calling ballgames, and only guessing. But the pain is real. BBC St. Matthews pioneered the local craft beer scene way back in 1993, and outside of my own two pubs, I've spent more time atop bar stools there than anywhere else. My mug's #66, and that tells you something.

The last 15 months in the "craft" beer biz have been brutal and tumultuous, quite apart from the many mergers and acquisitions. Mitch Steele left Stone, and Dan Kopman's gone from Schlafly. Phil Dearner works for Pabst, not Goodwood. Hell, I'm gone, myself. Now if they'd only pay me ...

It seemed so right to have Pierce back in St. Matthews, and now it's almost unimaginable that neither he nor BBC will be there any longer.

And you're still wondering why I'm no better than a reluctant capitalist.

---

* For those interested in foreshadowing, consider this ominous passage from Steve Coomes' preview of Goss Ave. Pub:

The 50 craft beers on draft will be reduced to about a fifth of that number, while the rest of the lineup will include 20 domestics and 20 imports. Pitchers will be on offer, and beer bucket and cocktail specials will be standards during games.

“There will be a lot of beers people will recognize and be comfortable with,” he said. “Craft beer’s expensive, so it allows us to keep costs down with what we’re going to now.”

THE BEER BEAT: The Pearl Street Taphouse in downtown Jeffersonville.

I'm delighted for Kelly and Teri that Pearl Street Taphouse (that's downtown Jeffersonville, folks, not downtown New Albany) has come out of the gate so strong. Now comes the long haul ... and best wishes for it.

If all goes as planned, my inaugural visit to Pearl Street Taphouse will be on Wednesday during a projected pub crawl of Jeffersonville.

Pearl Street Taphouse slings good beer, and the food follows suit, by Kevin Gibson (Insider Louisville)

 ... Along with the focus on craft beer, with 24 taps, there’s also a concise menu I found to be surprisingly tasty based on a couple of visits. It’s more than just beer at Pearl Street, even if the menu is a fairly simple thing with bar snacks, sandwiches and a couple of salads.

In a previous article at IL, Gibson shared the back story.

In a former home in downtown Jeffersonville — a structure that has survived fires and the 1937 flood — a new craft beer-themed bar, Pearl Street Taphouse, will open Saturday, Dec. 3.

The building, owned by Jeffersonville Main Street Inc., originally was two blocks away, but it is one of four homes moved and zoned for commercial use by the nonprofit revitalization organization. After Pearl Street Taphouse owners Kelly Conn and Teri Taylor looked for locations for their venture in the Highlands and in downtown New Albany, Conn one day decided to check out the building at 407 Pearl St.

THE BEER BEAT: Addressing diversity in "craft" beer, with Naughty Girl once again on the wrong side of the debate.

Let’s put an old saw to the test: Is it really true that any publicity is good publicity?

Specifically, if a New Albanian Brewing Company beer and beer label, as conceived on my watch in 2011, appears alongside an article by a national recognized blogger in 2016 and then is linked on Facebook by a brewing superstar, that’s wonderful, right?

Right there it is ... or "wrong" there it is?

Mitch Steele, formerly of Stone Brewing Company and one of my heroes in the field of “craft” brewing, is pointing to Naughty Girl in the context of "doing better" with issues of diversity and equality, presumably because Naughty Girl does worse.

This latest embarrassing reference to my checkered past starts here, with a very good blog post.

Addressing Diversity in Beer: Seeking Action, by Bryan Roth (This Is Why I’m Drunk)

Over the weekend, I listened to the latest Good Beer Hunting podcast with members of Indianapolis’ Central State Brewing. Among the variety of topics covered by host Michael Kiser was a lengthy discussion of the business’ commitment to social issues of equality and diversity. The Central State crew spoke with earnest about their interest in LGBT issues and Indiana’s political climate.

On Tuesday, I saw a brewery with a beer named “Date Grape.”

This contrast is not just the push-pull of today’s beer industry, but American culture as well. It’s easy to find wonderful examples of people, businesses and institutions doing what’s right for the advancement of human beings. Then you turn around and that 180 feels like more than a metaphor when you see downright ignorant acts.

Later in his piece, Roth links to my blog column about the Great Leg Spreader Crisis of 2015.

The PC: Ripped straight from the pages of an Onion satire: “13 white males not really so eager to discuss issues like racism and sexism.”

In a comment to Roth's post, I linked to my follow-up a year later. I merely wanted him to know that the story didn't end in 2015.

Can I get a “do-over” on Naughty Girl?

Earlier today, I spoke with Roth by phone in connection with another article he's writing about this general topic, and he asked how all this has changed me, and in answering, I said that the jury's out because change always is a work in progress.

Leg Spreader gave me pause, as did the reactions of some colleagues on the guild board. In turn, I started seeing Naughty Girl in a different light. My professional life was evolving during the same period of time. These chain reactions in consciousness continue, and I'm constantly taking mental notes.

Have I become some sort of expert on these issues, whether they pertain to sexism, equality, diversity or a hundred other thoughts of cultural worth, worth having?

Of course not. All I can do is try to be better informed, and as a result maybe improve myself as a person. All I can do is try my best to listen, think and act responsibly. To me, the beer revolution always meant something better, far beyond the beer in the glass. I'm disappointed in myself that when presented with an opportunity to reflect this ethos with regard to a Belgo-Indian Blonde Ale being brewed in 2011, I chose a lower common denominator.

But what's done is done. Now, I'll do what I can do. I appreciate the work that Roth and others like him are doing to keep the sun shining on "craft" brewing's ongoing sexism issues.

For a long time, the Brewers Association rightfully needed to focus on political and business issues in order to better grow their portion of the industry or further define “craft” and its value. But that time is over. The revolution has happened. Now it’s time to think socially and consciously.

Corn King IPA at Bank Street Brewhouse on Wednesday.

What is Corn King?

Time’s running out to get one of the nation’s most unique beers, by Tristan Schmid (Brewers of Indiana Guild)

Today 3 Floyds bottled a one-of-a-kind IPA that represents one of the most unique ways in the nation to support and enjoy craft beer, and time is running out for you to get it.

This morning, Corn King IPA hit 22 oz. bombers and kegs, destined for the tastebuds of IN Beer Brigade members at release parties around the state in October, the first of which will be held at 18th Street Brewing’s stunning Hammond location on Oct. 3, followed by others to be announced this week.

The only way to get Corn King IPA is by enlisting in the IN Beer Brigade. You can’t buy it at 3 Floyds or anywhere else.

Last month, 3 Floyds and Hoosier breweries from across Northwestern Indiana collaborated on the Corn King IPA brew day, mashing in locally grown corn malted by Sugar Creek Malt Co. of Lebanon, IN to create a highly sippable hoppy beer with crisp citrus notes and a smooth finish.

The 74 IBU, 7.3% ABV beer will pair excellently with a Sunday brunch or a local burger.

Enlist in the base membership level for access to buy pints of the beer at the release parties.

What is the IN Beer Brigade?

Become an IN Beer Brigadier to receive access to one-of-a-kind limited edition collaboration beers brewed by Hoosier brewers at members-only parties as well as specialty glassware, a digital membership card for use in Apple Pay and Google Wallet, and more.

Your membership in this exclusive program directly supports Indiana's fast-growing brewing industry and the mission of the Brewers of Indiana Guild.

When and where is the local Corn King release party?

Happening this Wednesday, October 19 at 6 p.m. on the patio at NABC Bank Street Brewhouse: Corn King IPA - brewed by Three Floyds Brewing in collaboration with Northwestern Indiana breweries - will be EXCLUSIVELY available to Indiana Beer Brigade Brigadiers! (Information on how to become a member) ... memberships may be purchased at the door.

The membership program is something that was minted during my tenure on the board of the Brewers of Indiana Guild, and I'm delighted to see it lifting off. Now that I'm a civilian in terms of brewery ownership, I'll be joining the program myself. This event isn't for everyone, but those for whom it is should stop by on Wednesday.

Harvest Evasion 2016 in Madison WI, Day Two: The non-negotiable pilgrimage to New Glarus, brewery and town.

When there's a combined coffee shop and wine bar only a minute's walk from your Airbnb, that's where breakfast is: Barriques on Park Street in Madison, and a fine way to begin the day -- with espresso, not pinot noir, although be aware that this establishment boasts an amazing list of $10 wines.

Friday morning's destination was New Glarus, a small, tidy Wisconsin town situated roughly 25 miles south of Madison. It bills itself as "America's Little Switzerland," albeit lacking Alps, but with flair enough that folks who know nothing about "craft" beer still visit for the Old World charm.

We indulged in a round of thrift shopping on the route out of Madison, and I disgorged this perfect $1.00 musical accompaniment for the drive. Think oom-pah with yodeling, and you'll be close.

It's hard to imagine many sightseers in New Glarus leaving without learning about the big (and growing) brewery on a hilltop overlooking town.

This is the "new" New Glarus Brewing Company facility, opened a decade ago, where more than 200,000 barrels of beer are brewed yearly. The "old" plant just down the road adds more than 50,000 barrels to the total, all of which is available only in the state of Wisconsin.

To place these numbers in context, consider that the state of Indiana only recently has breweries even approaching the 50,000 barrel level.

New Glarus Brewing Company is a case study in excellence, and this is true in so many ways that enumerating them in depth would require a university business course term project, something far beyond this brief sketch.

Nonetheless, an overview includes the uniform quality of the beer itself, the decision some years back to distribute only in Wisconsin, the beer tourism approach embodied by the hilltop brewing shrine, the architectural design of this shrine, employee ownership of the company and female management of it ... and I've only scratched the surface.

This year was our fourth or fifth visit to the brewery, which we'd toured previously. This time the sampling bar and gift shop proved sufficient, with a beer enjoyed outside in the garden. In recent years, this comfortable expanse has been augmented with mock abbey ruins and other clever amenities like the rinsing station, a retrofitted vintage console from a German brewhouse.

As always, the final stop was the takeaway beer warehouse. To visit the brewery during the second weekend in August on the occasion of the Great Taste of the Midwest is to learn that incoming brewers from out-of-state emulate swarms of locusts, generally removing more ought-after brands from the shelves. Going in the off-season (those 51 other weekends) is better.

I pay little attention these days to beer ratings, but at least several of New Glarus's renowned fruit-based sour ales were available for purchase, along with plenty of the brewery's delicious styles from the German pantheon: Staghorn Octoberfest, Zwickl, Two Women Lager and Uff-da Bock.

I'm glad they had two-wheelers.

After loading the trunk at New Glarus Brewing, and before considering where the luggage would be stowed on the return trip, it was time descend the hill and proceed to Glarner Stube, a perpetually packed Swiss-German restaurant with New Glarus beers on tap and sauerkraut the way it's supposed to be, this being a particular passion of mine when dining out. My choice of beer was Spotted Cow, because ... when in Rome.

Out on the main street of New Glarus, I had fun walking back and forth in the crosswalk, from one side to the other, experiencing the amazing sensation (for a New Albanian) of having drivers actually yield to pedestrians, just the way they're supposed to do, but don't, because Irv Stumler says no one in our sity speeds or drives hazardously.

Later, back in Madison, there was cocktail hour at the Wonder Bar Steakhouse and a much needed nap before dinner. Located a short walk away from the pad, Mini Hot Pot was the choice for our evening meal, and make no mistake: We need one of these in Louisville.

The new Mini Hot Pot on South Park Street is particularly inviting on a cold, windy, gray day. The small restaurant’s specialty is bubbling broth in individual hot pots, served with colorful plates of meats and vegetables that diners cook themselves, fondue style.

Owner Vincent Chang explained that hot pots are traditional in northern China, where the winter weather is similar to Wisconsin’s. Historically, he said, an entire family would gather around one boiling cauldron of seasoned broth, dipping in ingredients and sharing the soup.