Why Old Chicago is Actually Kind of Cool

I know it’s been a while since last I wrote on my blog and for that I am very sorry; life happened, man. Well that’s a lie, mostly work happened. And as many of you know, staring at a computer for many hours a day (doing mostly powerpoint) makes you feel like you definitely don’t want to be typing up a storm on the computer when you get home (but Netflix and GChat are, of course, exceptions to the rule). My mind has just been a different place. I have been tweeting though, so… if you don’t follow me on Twitter, you should: @beerspectacles. It will help you get that Beer Spectacles fix you’ve been missing. Anyway, enough of that. Down to business. This will be a quick “I told you so,” so don’t worry, you can read this in the 30 minutes you give yourself at your desk before you really sit down to “do work.” Like I did, finishing it off before I really started my day.

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As most of you may know, I really like Michael Agnew and his A Perfect Pint blog and efforts; he is really cool and does really cool stuff and has cool things to say. Every time I go to his blog I discover another juicy piece of beer news and yesterday was no exception (I mean I looked at it today and saw that the one of the founders of Flat Earth was let go in like April. April?! It’s May! WHAT AM I DOING?). Michael wrote a piece about a new Old Chicago in Eden Prairie that caught my attention: I started writing a post in January about it myself and I don’t feel bad in the least that he beat me to it. I mean, he actually went to the new Old Chicago, I did not; I still only go to the one in Uptown and love it (Although I haven’t been in a while). But his post is proof: Old Chicago is actually kind of cool.

While I am not always a huge proponent of chain bars and restaurants, every time I’m in, at, or around an Old Chicago I’m reminded of the fact that, when picked up and turned around in the right direction like a wayward snail, they can find their way, and people will follow their trail of slime. Ok that was too much, but you see what I’m saying. Yes, Old Chicago has great drink specials. Did you see that they had pints of Surly for like $2.50 on some nights (I could be exaggerating, but that’s still a good deal)? And those mini pizzas?! Need I say more? … Sure.

I also went there once with Mike and coworker for a sports game (football?) where we drank a lot of pints of Coors (hey, it was on special). Did I still like it? Yes. But Mike made the good point that behind the bar they have those special mugs that people who have drank so many beers in so many places have (something called like the Beer Tour.). Apparently this special mug thing is a cool old school tradition that they have in a lot of east coast bars (ooooooooooohhhhhhh east coast bars!!!!) that we’re missing around here. Sure the CC Club has its regulars, but none of them have their own mugs (that the CC Club knows of). That’s just baller.

These regulars must have the right idea; I guarantee you they’re not drinking always Coors out of those mugs (or they might be, who knows) but my point still stands. This sort of loyalty exists for a reason, they support a quality establishment, which it seems to be, according to Michael’s article (or at least the one in Eden Prairie). It has a plethora of beers on tap (ok, it’s no Republic, but it’ll do), serves their beer the right way (not in frosted mugs, oh thank god. Now I don’t have to be a douche and scoff behind the server’s back about how it’s supposed to be served in a room temp glass), and is knowledgable about beer and more specifically, local beers and breweries. What else could you want? More of those little pizzas? Definitely.

One of my friends pointedly told me the other day (I think pre-sports game outing at the Uptown Old Chicago) that according to an article he read, chain bars and restaurants have some of the best beer lists around (I think the example he used was Ruby Tuesday. What?) and I was in disbelief, almost anger, at his blatant lies. People don’t go there to drink cool local craft brews, they go there to be dicks and order a billion strawberry margaritas and drive themselves home (oh I went there). But I stand corrected. They are making a true and honest attempt to replicate the experience one would have at another of their favorite restaurants or bars while still having that chain vibe you know and love: that’s their look and feel, some would say. And I mean, if you’re just a regular dude and want to have a beer you also know and love (Coors) and maybe a beer you don’t (Lucid?), if the staff can recommend one to you in a smart and sincere way, then by all means, go for it and work towards one of those cool mugs behind the bar. You deserve it. And Old Chicago deserves some recognition for helping to make craft beer more accessible (even though this image of all these beers in a row is from their website, and to be honest, a little bit off-message, if you know what I mean. Is that Smirnoff on the shelf too?!).

Can it, Already: Why Canned Craft Beer is so Cool

You’ve seen it in liquor stores and are probably familiar with it in your home, especially if you love Surly: canned beer. Why is it so cool? Why are so many more craft brewers going in this direction versus the more traditional pry-off top bottles (please, screw off tops imply cheap and, ew… macrobrewed beer.)? Just the other day I was at Pat’s Tap on 35th and Nicollet and they had a whole blurb about how they love cans and why they’re better than bottles (Side Note: Pat’s Tap is a great place, you should definitely check it out. They have great cheese curds, although not top five. Ok, maybe top five, but definitely NOT top three, which for the record are 1) Groveland Tap (bonus of great beer selection), 2) Bulldog Uptown (also bonus of great beer selection and, obviously, locale), 3) State Fair (non-bonus of expensive limited beer selection)).

Anyway, not the point. The point is that beer in the can is cool and there have been many recent articles/blogs about why exactly that is. Well, that article is about science, saying they are equal. Don’t bother reading it, the only real sentence that matters is that science says: “I would expect that the difference between amber glass and aluminum cans is minimal as far as photodegradation is concerned.”  Photodegradation is the light impacting the overall taste/flavor/carbonation of the beer, which is the main reason why people have said amber bottles are the way to go. In case you didn’t know, clear glass lets in all the light, so that definitely impacts the beer (“photodegradation”), resulting in what some people refer to as “skunked beer,” which mostly refers to the lack of carbonation in the beer and just being generally gross. Either way, you know that beer that comes in a clear glass bottle is a) not a respectable beer, because b) the proprietors couldn’t be bothered to put it in an amber glass, so chances are it sucks. Just. Saying. Oh and in case your wondering, green bottles are ok, but amber ones are better. Clear ones are the worst. Cans? They’re just as good as amber bottles. WHAT?

So then you think back to the last time you ordered a PBR at the bar and you’re all like “Hmm… but what about that aluminum taste? I don’t like that. I just bought the PBR because it was cheap and it adds to my cool image.” And good question; the point is that beer, like wine, is not meant to be drunk in the receptacle it came in, be it can, bottle, or bag (ahem, don’t pretend you don’t drink Franzia, the world’s most popular wine). That’s why pouring it into a glass (I’m not going to be a dick and say the ‘right’ glass; a glass is good enough) is really important. This is something that has to happen even if your beer came in the fanciest amberiest glass bottle of all time. The point is that yes, beer from a can will have a slightly more aluminum taste if you’re putting your slobbery beer-thirsty mouth against the stupid aluminum can to drink (chug?) it. So just pour it in a glass and quit your bitching. Then again if you’re getting a PBR at the CC Club or something, they might laugh at you when you order a tallboy of PBR and ask for a glass (I mean you paid $2 for it, it’s not worth their time or money to clean a glass for you). But you were the idiot that ordered that PBR in the first place. Just drink it out of the can and save yourself the trouble.

So again, you ask, why are cans so cool and why am I cool for drinking beer from them? Why do I see my favorite beers available in cans? Why do good breweries insist on canning their beer rather than bottling (besides the aforementioned fact that they let in just as little light as traditional amber bottles)? Surly’s slogan is “Beer for a glass, from a can,” not only saying that cans are cool (like their beer) but that it’s meant for a glass, like a real beer that you would find in a bottle, that you would also pour in a glass (HAVE I MENTIONED THAT YOU SHOULD POUR YOUR BEER IN GLASS?). Also, cans and canning is just cheaper, simple as that. And from a design standpoint, they also allow a slightly larger canvas from which to express the essence of the beer, which is important in a world where there are more and more breweries and differentiators are not only harder to establish but harder to show to the consumer. I mean, not all breweries can have special glass bottles made for their beer like they do with Vodkas; plus it goes against general beer conventions.

But I think it’s more than that. Ultimately, cans are a throwback to the age when the can was really the only option (and people were drinking it straight out of the can by the case-load) and craft beers are reclaiming this identity in a postmodern way (yeah that’s right, I went there. I’ll reel it back in, don’t worry); a can no longer means an average macrobrew. Craft beer now has all the versatility of the can but you get to drink the beer you love the way you used to drink Bud Light or maybe Milwaukee’s Best in college (chug, smash, toss). I say the reclamation of the can is postmodern because it not only references the past use of cans and the current changing face of beer, but it was cans that changed how beer was brewed/distributed in the United States in the first place that made it monolithic post-Prohibition, and here they are, doing it again, but diversifying. Reclaiming. Reforming. Recanning. And people are loving it.

So, is canning an attempt to reach the market of macrobrew drinkers by tricking them into buying cans, grabbing it instead of a case of Miller High Life? Does it make them feel better about buying a craft beer they once thought was too hoity-toity or didn’t even realize was a beer until it came out in cans? Probably not. But maybe? I’d say it’s more for beer geeks/snobs who want to take craft beer with them camping and not deal with bottles (because bottles don’t crush like cans, duh, and they can shatter or in some cases, explode). The question is if you as a beer snob invited some of your beer snob friends over and offered them some beer snob beer, would they feel wronged if you brought out some beer snob cans and poured them into glasses? I think they would be skeptical at first, then you would have some sort of abbreviated version of this blog post about whether or not it’s a big deal that their Fat Tire is now canned.

Then there’s the fact that there aren’t really THAT many breweries that can their beers. It’s still an anomaly. Check out this neat website that talks about all craft brews in cans and announces the new ones as they come out. It’s kind of exciting to think about the future of craft beers as they convert more breweries and people to using and drinking canned beer. But what does that mean for homebrewers? Are they going to have to start buying cases of fresh amber bottles from their homebrew supply store instead of reusing bottles? I mean, I doubt that all beer sales will be in cans for a while, or at all, so that’s good, but then what’s the point? I know that not all homebrewers = beer snobs, but the overlap is pretty big, so then does that kind of hinder canned craft beer sales? Wasn’t homebrewer reuse part of the reason Summit went to pry-offs instead of twist offs (besides the fact it makes them seem more legitimate, oh, and THEY WOULD TEAR THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR HAND WHEN YOU TRIED TO TWIST THEM OFF AND YOU HAD TO USE A BOTTLE OPENER ANYWAY)? But it could’ve also been that beer in pry-off bottles stays fresher longer than beer in twist-offs, but would you believe me if I told you it stays EVEN fresher for longer in cans? Because it does.

And then there’s the social phenomenon around the tallboy. How cool is the tallboy, you ask? Really cool. Just ask your local hipster. Go to your local liquor store. I don’t know how excited you were when you saw that Grain Belt now comes in cases of tallboys (yes, 24 16oz cans with that great checkered Grain Belt pattern), but I was really excited. This introduced a whole new level of beer appreciation into my and my friends’ lives, a level that we now refer to as the ‘Pounder Pack.’ I would be remiss not to mention that the term itself came from the official name on the case of PBR tallboys that we once (ok, several times and counting) purchased for a drinking game/activity known as PowerKart (but more on that another day), that we now use to refer to all cases of tallboys.

Needless to say, not only are cans cool but so are tallboys and the Pounder Pack (as was the packaging company that startedto encourage breweries to start doing it this way—recognizing, creating or propagating the trend, it’s hard to say). But for now, it seems that the Pounder Pack concept is just for beers that come from breweries that have the capacity to can at this scale (as much as I love Grain Belt it is by no means a craft beer, this I recognize), so it just adds to the popularity of the can in general. Then again, the twelve-pack of 21st Amendment comes in a fridge-friendly box and is always a solid brew (I had their Back in Black Black IPA the other day, and it was delicious). They can ALL of their beers and are proud of it. There’s something sexy about a craft beer in a well-designed can, and they do it well.

More cans, I say. Bring on the Pounder Packs of craft beer.

Crispin Cider: Is Your Favorite Cider Company Becoming Bigger and Better or Just Bigger?

The other day I was perusing my favorite beer blogs as I’m wont to do and I came upon a certain piece of news that wretched my gut and made me want to vomit and yell at the same time. ‘WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?’ I screamed in my head, gawking at the headline. See for yourself. But don’t read the post. Just react. Check yourself. Think about your feelings. Now read my post…

It took me a second and then I got over it. Then I was just sad. Another one, gone. In case you didn’t click on the link, here’s the big news: MillerCoors has officially purchased Crispin Cider. Are you upset yet? Or are you with me, moping over here in thiscorner? Well, get over here, let’s talk this out.

So here’s why I’m upset: I feel betrayed.

I feel betrayed for a few reasons:

1) Did you know Crispin isn’t even made in Minnesota? I guess I should’ve known that one. It’s made in California, it’s just BASED in Minneapolis (and the owner is South African, something that makes me like Crispin more because I know how the South Africans love their cider). Now it all makes sense. That’s why they partner with Fox Barrel—they’re also from Cali. So what part of Minnesota was I supporting by buying Crispin besides the prestige they add to the Minnesota beer scene as being a premium cider manufacturer?

2) Apparently the owner of Crispin, Joe Heron, feels that “People see these [companies like MillerCoors] as huge monolithic companies, but these are real people who are all about beer. They make their regular products, but they are just as much into the craft as anybody.” I get it, I’m one of these ‘people,’ and it makes me feel guilty, because I’m sure they are into the craft. But it’s a business and cheap crappy beer is also a business (I would know, I drink it too). I feel like he’s called me out on being a beer snob, elitist even, and hating these hard-working Americans because they’re not working for a true craft brewery and it makes me feel bad. Boo.

3) At my core, I feel like “there’s another good one, gone to the dark side.” But the point that Heron makes is that a decision like this means they will have a larger span of resources, expertise, and access to currently untapped markets. And it’s not just like they’re going to MillerCoors the giant, they’re going specifically to the craft and import division, the giant’s baby finger called ‘The Tenth and Lake Beer Company’ that works their magic to acquire companies like Crispin (with presumably the best intentions, based on point #2). Oh, and they own Leinenkugel’s. I think the part that bothers me the most is the length all these companies go to to hide the fact that they are indeed part of the giant. The village knows the giant is the giant even if he wears townspeople clothes – or does it?

4) The upside: Crispin promises its drinkership that yes, the quality will remain the same, and that it’s only going to get even better from here, now that they can continue to grow as the brewery we know and love. But Minnesota was just not enough. Too small, too local. Too ‘niche.’ Time to go to Colorado and play with the big boys. But should we feel happy for Crispin? Didn’t we beam as our friends who hadn’t heard of Crispin before tried it at our encouragement and loved it? Yes. Didn’t we get excited when we saw a new kind of cider they were experimenting with at our local liquor store? Yes. Shouldn’t we want to share it with more people so we never have to say, “Do you have Crispin down here? No?! Bummer.” Shouldn’t we breathe a sigh of relief?

5) Wasn’t this Joe Heron’s dream from day one? Isn’t this every brewery owner – no, homebrewer’s – dream? To make the big time, have everyone know and love your beer, ask their liquor stores to get it, belly up to the bar to indulge in it, and you have all the money in the world to do what you do, brew and share your brew with those who truly love it and love good beer? Yes. Shouldn’t we applaud him for his entrepreneurial genius and for making a fucking awesome cider with great branding? Sigh. Yes. Heron has played a huge role in making cider what it is today, and it’s only going to get better from here (see this article for more on that, it’s really interesting; cider’s market share is rapidly increasing, and Crispin’s sales in particular has grown over 300% in the last year). We should be happy. But why can’t I get this bad taste out of my mouth?

The blog post that shared this information with me has clearly made me think a lot more about my beer values and mores, while the author, Michael Agnew Master Cicerone, is seemingly pretty neutral on the topic, just sharing the news and letting us take it as we will.  But then the post ends, a billion thoughts running through my head, he says as a statement of fact that makes the doubt in the back of my mind gurgle to life, “That being said, Killian’s Irish Red is not the beer it once was.” (Ok, now that I’ve ruined it, go ahead and read his whole post) This, my friends, is why I was originally so upset and is not something I can talk/write myself out of. Because of this purchase and subsequent relationship, Crispin is no longer the cider I loved, even if it is. Even though I will still drink it and respect it for what it’s done to the beer and cider industry, I won’t love it as I once did with the same blind affection. And I know that even with all the innovation and distribution they might have in the future, I will never get that feeling back.

Pairing Beer with Food: The Final Frontier

As I was eating my Caesar salad earlier this week at Biaggi’s in Eden Prairie (please, it was for work, you think I would normally go to Eden Prairie, much less Biaggi’s?), all I could think about was how my salad would be so much tastier with a nice lambic beer, not unlike the one I had at the beer pairing event I went to the Thursday before. A small group of us sat down with the only female certified Cicerone (beer sommellier) in the United States so she could teach us about pairing beer with food: the final frontier.

The idea itself is an interesting one and not one that any beer fiend (friend?) would not be even slightly familiar with: beer + food = yum. But it goes much deeper than that. Fancy restaurants have been limited to fancy wines with their fancy foods, and cheap restaurants have been limited to cheap beers with their cheap foods (i.e. burgers and buds). But the divide is a divide no more and it is of utmost importance to the beer community that beer regain its rightful place next to wine in fancy restaurants with fancy foods, and maybe even fancy beers with cheap foods at middle range restaurants (like the ones I frequent, and presumably, you too). It’s not a divide; it shouldn’t be a divide. Both beverages provide something different to food that in the end, offers a different experience overall. Various fancy restaurants have caught on to this and are diving right in, trying new things, learning as much as possible, providing the best experience. While smaller middle range places have embraced it fully and made it a mainstay (Muddy Waters?), but it’s not as simply as a long beer list, it’s further and involves a knowledgeable staff and an extensive beer-friendly menu (and the desire to combine the two). Enough about that. Here’s a little bit about what happened:

I walked into the Kitchen Window in Calhoun Square in Uptown; I see it every day (well, hopefully every day) when I go the gym but thought it was nothing more than a ‘kitchen’ classroom learning area to excite people about the store and the available products. I mean, it is, but on that night, it was much more. The lights dimmed, and as I sipped on my ‘welcome beer,’ the mood changed. The Cicerone, Nicole, stopped by my table, asked me how I was doing and what my involvement was in the beer community. Stumbling on my words, afraid to say ‘beer blogger,’ I said very plainly ‘beer enthusiast.’ She smiled, almost a little too long, and said, ‘That’s great! I hope we have fun tonight,’ and walked away. She reminded me of the chemistry types I knew in college, very knowledgeable, a little awkward, with a deep passion for science and trying to explain things to me on an elementary level since I dropped chemistry freshman year. She had brown hair and glasses (not unlike myself, all of my female friends, and pretty much all the girls who graduated from Macaletser during my time; that was for dramatic effect, I don’t think she wore glasses, but I’d bet my life that she was wearing contacts, so the point still stands). I liked her, but I was nervous. I was one of three females in the room; it was me, her, and the wife of what I believe was a brewpub (current or future) owner, but she seemed more into the food. And then there was me, by far the youngest and most bright-eyed, taking notes in my ‘brew book,’ the sacred place I keep notes on my homebrews and beer-related things, not unlike my discarded chemistry lab journal.

She started with a brief powerpoint on the power of beer tasting and pairings. For most of us, this was the first time we’d gone to a beer tasting, much less one that provided dinner and discussion. So I think everyone was nervous (except for the owner of the Kitchen Window, who sat next to me taking notes on what I believe was the service and how things ran overall, rather than the content). All I could think was, ‘I wish I hadn’t had that beer at Republic before this… and those chips with guacamole.’ I was hungry, thirsty, full, and satisfied all at the same time. But most importantly, I was ready to learn.

First off, let me tell you, there is a lot of science to beer tasting, with discussions of phenols and esthers (I repeat, I stopped taking chemistry years ago). She glossed over it, knowing we were ready to roll up our sleeves and get our palettes wet. The most interesting aspect of the powerpoint was the explanation of how exactly food is paired with beer, either in contrast (also known as ‘cut’) and harmony (similar, I imagine to wine): it either complements or contrasts the food, drawing out certain elements of the beer and/or the food and making you taste them less or stronger. The next slide had a picture of Homer with a thought bubble above his head with a beer in it and he’s saying ‘mmm beer,’ and we began.

The first course was the aforementioned Caeser salad, paired with two different sour beers. The first, a complement, accenting the lemon and parmesan flavors, while the second was a contrast, accenting the breadiness of the croutons (which, interestingly enough, is the point of the croutons to begin with). I am both ashamed and proud to say that this was my first experience with a true Belgian lambic beer (the beer tasting was heaving in these, as she said, Nicole had a background in Belgian beers. How one gets a background in any one style of beer, I don’t know), and it was delicious. It was light, like champagne, but fuller like beer, and made the Caesar salad the best Caesar salad I’ve ever had (which could be in part because I’m not a big Caeser salad person). I decided not to finish the second beer, because these weren’t just 2oz pours, they were almost full beers (in fancy, style-appropriate glasses, mind you), and I had four more to go.

The main course, a margarita pizza made on an Egg grill (which is sweet, and they know it), was next. And this is where things got interesting and she started waxing poetic about beer tasting and the crux of why beer tasting is important, both as a beautiful and flawed art. Tasting is, in essence, subjective, described and experienced only by the taster, but the only way one can become a good taster is by tasting, listening, and sharing with other tasters and beer judges. This made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, thinking that yes, yet again, beer is a social activity that will continue to be so, and relies so heavily on it to flourish. It is not relegated to the ivory tower of elite tasting and enjoying. Everyone tastes certain things better than others (and even master Cicerones have their weaknesses), and because of this, every taster (like every beer drinker) should be heard and respected.

“Close your eyes, smell it, taste it, swirl it in your mouth, experience the beer,” Nicole said. “It’s called ‘vision tasting,’ just let your mind and genetics be free. Talk to others, no one is wrong. They can taste something you can’t. Ask them what their mind came up with.” I was wondering when she was going to ask us to get out our crystals. But then I sort of got into it, letting my mind wander; I thought more about the pizza, the burnt crust and how it reminded me of the pizza we used to have at that one beach pizza place in Bali, until it got too commercial and busy. Mmmm, pizza.

Besides the hippie bullshit, I’m being constantly reminded that I’m being more of a woman than I’ve ever been, hyper aware of my every move, every deliberate pen stroke with my fancy pen in my fancy moleskin. I’m not finishing my beers, I’m not eating my pizza crusts. I’m just observing, writing, and progressively getting drunker. I have to pee. Then they bring out the cheesecake. I hate cheesecake. But I want to see what she’s talking about when she says the next beer is a Russian Imperial Stout which complements the chocolate crust. I used to say I greatly disliked this style, but I’m intrigued, and drink it all. “It’s like having coffee with dessert,” Nicole says, and I completely agree. It’s like the after-dinner coffee without the caffeine and it’s delicious. But then they switch gears and bring out a champagne flute of the fruitiest most delicious berry lambic beer I’ve had (note: I have not had many, I am talking about fruity beers in general). Again, my opinions about fruit beer have changed. I mean, I’m not going to drink it all the time, but there’s a time and place for these, and it was here and now (unlike Berryweiss). It added a deep raspberry accent to the cheesecake which completely blew me away after the previous coffee-like pairing. I wanted it all at the same time.

I downed the rest of my beer while chatting with the owner of the Kitchen Window. A homebrewer himself, this too was his first foray into tasting/pairing and he liked it. The question was, was it worth it for the Kitchen Window? They lost money on the event (despite the $60 everyone threw down), and was this their target audience? Maybe not. Compared to their usual class, there weren’t enough women. Not enough couples. Too many professionals who probably won’t shop at the Kitchen Window even after this positive experience. But that wasn’t the point of the event. It was to learn more about beer and how it can be further integrated into our lives through pairing while understanding why. Isn’t that the future of craft beer and homebrewing, to get more education and drink more (good) beer? Provide that, and the women and couples will come, because they too, are the final frontier of beer.

Minnesota, Know Your Local Breweries

Dearest readers,

As I sit in my not-so-cubical cubicle, I think to myself, what advice/knowledge can I impart on my avid readers today? As I peruse my daily blogs and articles about beer and the like, I realize that I find myself getting excited daily (yes, daily) about the new breweries that are opening up in the Twin Cities. Here they are, in lists, for your reading pleasure. Each brewery is linked to their website,and I’ve also made some brief comments about their flagship (first and best, generally) beer and their other good beers, if they got them. I don’t know if I’ve ever said this, but I’m always open to discussion and suggestions, so although I give off this air of over-confidence with my ‘know-it-all’ attitude, tell me what you think or if I missed anything!! Also, check out this related City Pages article.

The Ones You’ve Probably Heard Of (Good for you):
1. Summit: famous for their EPA, which is delicious, but I recommend the Oatmeal Stout
2. Surly Brewing: famous for their Furious, which is delicious, but I recommend the Coffee Bender
3. August Schell (related: Grain Belt): Famous for… being from New Ulm, the most German part of Minnesota; Grainbelt is cool because I work down the street from the old brewery (they were bought by Schell in 2002, but were originally brewing in NE)
4. Finnegan’s: famous for being at all of Macalester’s SpringFests until Surly came around. Contract brewed by Summit, but a very average beer IMHO.
5. Liftbridge: famous for y’know, the Stillwater liftbridge, and beer (flagship: Farm Girl)

The Ones You Probably Haven’t Heard of (Shame on you):
1. Brau Brothers: Try the Moo Joos, it’s delicious
2. Flat Earth Brewing: The Angry Planet is the best
3. Fulton: Sweet Child of Vine is their best, and they just got their first real brewery (in Mpls near the Twins stadium!)
4. Staples Mill Brewing Company: I had the Stout of Morning Destruction the other day and it was epic — 750ml limited release bottles, and so yummy in that drunk-after-breakfast on coffee/beer/bourbon type way
5. Lake Superior: The Kayak Kolsch is my favorite, which is weird because I normally like stouts, but it’s a great summer session beer*

The Newest Ones (Get with the program):
1. Lucid Brewing: Minnetonka has a brewery now, too, say what?!
2. Harriet Brewing: I’ve had the West Side, it’s awesome, and this Friday they’re having their one year anniversary at the Blue Nile!
3. Dangerous Man: This dude is a baller; there are antiquated MN laws about having a brewery within some amount of feet of a church and unlucky for him, NE has a lot of churches and a lot of nice spaces for breweries so he’s had to fight for his right to brew, so double support him (plus, sick logo!)
4. Steel Toe: SLP representing! The Number 7 I had at Muddy Waters was fantastic, I WANT MOOOAR
5. Mankato Brewery: So, so fresh; they were recently looking for support to start up operations (again?)
6. Boom Island Brewing Company: Across the river from my work, I only just heard about them and haven’t tried any of their beers
7. Bemidji Brewing Company: Even fresher than fresh, their website is not even complete and they’re still asking for support

The Ones That I Hadn’t Even Heard Of (and don’t have opinions on, unfortunately):
1. Big Wood (Vadnais Heights, MN): The newest of the new
2. Leech Lake (Walker, MN): I’ve heard more about them recently but I don’t know how new they are
3. Olvalde (Rollingston, MN): I lied, I think I’ve actually had/heard of one of these Farmhouse Ales
4. Dubrue (Duluth, MN): Apparently all up in Duluth, I had no idea
5. Castle Danger (Two Harbors, MN): New as of March 2010, looks pretty sweet

The Ones That Don’t Really Matter But Are Still Interesting (Not craft breweries per se):
1. Cold Spring: A lot of historical significance for the MN beer scene, but generally average beer
2. Pig’s Eye Brewing Company: Gross cheap-ass beer, but still exciting because St Paul was almost called Pig’s Eye, which makes no sense — silly pioneers
3. Vine Park: Doesn’t count because it’s like homebrewing extra light; you go there, they brew for you, you call the beer your own — good for corporate parties

Brew Pubs of Note (My favorites):
1. Fitger’s (Duluth): Home of one of my favorite stouts of all time, the Big Boat Oatmeal Stout; definitely the best brewpub in Minnesota
2. Town Hall Brewery (West Bank): An awesome brew pub, great food, topical beers that they brew, and just a neat building overall
3. Herkimer’s (Uptown): Uptown’s only brewpub? I feel like I find myself here when other (better?) places are full… but still good

For more about good brew pubs, check out this article from Michael Agnew (A Perfect Pint)

A message from the MN Craft Brewer's Guild

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* (Thanks to Blackmer for bringing this up, sorry!) ‘Session Beer’: a beer that’s light/pleasant enough to drink many of in one session (ie. a beer you can drink lots of, not drink one of and feel like you ate a steak, had a milkshake, and just want to take a nap like the big baby you are. This is especially important in the summer when you’re doing a lot of session drinking and I mean, it’s summer, so you don’t want to gorge yourself on Russian Imperial Stouts for hours, if you know what I mean).