Head Cheese
by Mark Siciliano
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This just in! We're giving writer and longtime Siciliano's friend Tim Chilcote free and unfettered access to cover events at the 9th Annual Homebrew Party at Johnson Park.
Why the need for press credentials? Partly we thought it would be interesting if someone other than a Siciliano's employee wrote an account of the event. We're also just big fans of Tim's work—evident in the many, many times we've reposted content from his blog, The Great Lakes Guru.
Here's another instance of us pulling something good straight from Tim's blog. It's an entertaining review of that most venerable of Kalamazoo institutions, The Green Top Tavern, which Tim suggests might well be the best dive bar in Michigan. (Originally published on October 5, 2010 as "Green Top Olympics".)
By Tim Chilcote
The Green Top in downtown Kalamazoo might well be the best dive bar in Michigan. Dark and grimy with a wood bar that runs the length of the room, the Green Top is populated by local drunks and WMU students. But the Green Top is not a hipster dive bar. Oh no, the WMU students who frequent the Green Top are generally in search of cheap drinks and hometown flavor, and are not at all interested in making any hipster dive-bar scene. On almost any night or day, the owners, an older married couple, play bartender. They pour stiff drinks and make average sandwiches to soak up the booze.
For the purposes of this blog post, it’s important to note that the Green Top has a front and back door. The back door opens into an alley and a downtown Kalamazoo parking lot. The front door opens onto Michigan Avenue, Kalamazoo’s downtown thoroughfare.
In the winter of 2002 I was sitting at a banquet table between the jukebox and the pool table. The snow was coming down like a bastard; the kind of wet snow that sounds hypnotic, like television fuzz, the kind of snow that turns a city into a ghost town. So the Green Top was sparsely populated that night with a few die-hards at the bar, and maybe a couple students sitting in the corner.
But the person of note was playing pool, or rather, hovering around the pool table and leaning on his cue. A smallish Mexican man, he looked to be around 50, never removed his stocking cap. To this day, he is hands-down the most intoxicated human being I’ve ever seen standing. He threw back shots of bourbon and glasses of beer at an alarming pace. At some point I remember predicting to my table that he would soon go down.
And then he did. The stout little drunk stepped to the bar, brought his beer to his mouth, and in one fluid motion fell straight back. But the interesting part is he didn’t fall like a normal person, didn’t crumple or try to brace himself, just fell, stiff as a chopped tree. I’d like to think someone said “timber,” but I doubt there was time, because about halfway to the floor, he cracked the back of his head square on the corner of the pool table. I swear to god, I thought he died.
One of the drunks from the bar, likely destined for the same eventual fate, jumped from his seat and pulled the little drunk back to his feet. To my astonishment, he stood again. This noble do-gooder from the bar offered the little drunk a ride home and told him that he just had to run out back and pull his car up, to which the drunk may or may not have replied.
So the good Samaritan went out the back door to get the car, and the little drunk hurriedly stumbled out the front door, whether in an escape attempt or because of an impending prior obligation was unclear. He then walked straight onto Michigan Avenue without even considering traffic; perhaps didn’t even know it was a road thanks to the snow cover.
I stepped outside to watch him disappear down a side street. He wore only jeans, a flannel button-up, and his stocking cap, a cap that might have gone on to save his life twice that night; first as a knit helmet, second as his only protection against the snow storm.
Flash forward six years…
So last time I was in the Green Top (about two years ago) I was with my wife after attending a wedding reception. We were still dressed in formal evening garb.
Unlike the 2002 winter tale, the Green Top was packed; chalk it up to a home football game and nice weather. We were lucky to find one open seat at the end of the bar. I stood. Within minutes, a middle-aged woman appeared on my right and asked if my name was Leroy. No context.
“Leroy?” I said.
“Yeah, Bad Bad Leroy Brown. You’re wearing that suit.”
Fortunately, I’d been drinking scotch at the wedding reception, which tends to make me witty and clever. “Yes, I said, Leroy is the name.”
By Chris Siciliano
With judging complete in the homebrew contest, it's time we turn our full attention to the homebrew party. Yes we know we've been peppering you with near daily reminders. But think how bad we'd feel if the party came and went and somebody missed it for some unnecessary failure on our part. Anyway here's a quick rundown of what (and what not) to expect at this year's celebration.
Do expect lots of great beer, mostly homebrewed, served up and shared amongst 150 or so like-minded individuals. Do not expect kegs of Bartles & James Wild Berry Spritzer.
Do expect great food and live entertainment and also to take home a selection of party favors including a Siciliano's beer mug, guaranteed to make you the envy of all your friends. Do not expect magical winged creatures to scoop you up at party's end to deliver you safely to your home. Arrange for a DD or cab to do the driving instead.
Do expect more reminders from us to come as the party approaches. Do not expect tickets to remain until the very last minute. Supplies are limited; get your tickets today!
Welcome back to Hey Kevin, our advice and information column. Let's get right to this week's question.
Hey Kevin,
I live in Portland, OR but I was born and lived for a long time in Grand Rapids. I try at least once a year to get back to Michigan and from visit to visit I'm always amazed at the advances in the craft beer scene. My beer geek friends here in Portland don't believe GR is the hotbed for beer I say it is. Frankly they don't pay it much mind. Whatevs. It still makes me wonder: Is Grand Rapids the most under-appreciated beer city in the country?
Pauly from Portland, formerly GR
Hey Pauly,
It's true Grand Rapids doesn't always get the national recognition it deserves for being a great place to find a pint. But I think most people would tell you that's changing. With places like Founders, HopCat, Brewery Vivant, and even Siciliano's firmly established, and with new breweries and beer bars opening all the time, not to mention the Winter Beer Festival and other events, it's hard to deny that something real and good is happening here. Eventually that will become to clear to anyone who cares.
To answer your question, the most under-appreciated beer city in America is actually a small town in Pennsylvania called Rye. Now, I admit, I've never been to Rye and I don't know anyone who has. To the best of my knowledge there are no breweries in Rye nor is there any great beer bars or stores. In fact, I don't know anything about Rye other than what Wikipedia tells me, which isn't much.
Nevertheless, in the grand scheme of things having a name like "Rye" should be worth something, and a whole lot of it. Yet to this day I've never read nor heard anything that gives ol' Rye, PA the respect it deserves. And that, dear Pauly, is a shame.
Hope this helps.
Kevin
The views expressed here are Kevin's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of The Buzz staff nor its parent company, Siciliano's Market. Have a question in need of answering? Submit it to heykevin@sicilianosmkt.com.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Head Cheese - Your weekly ration
This week's edition of Head Cheese is the cat's meow, the cat's pajamas no less. It's the bee's knees, the bear's beer, the iguana's mama. It is not, to my knowledge, the giraffe's gaffe.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Vote GR for Beer City USA
Update: Voting is closed; Grand Rapids prevails.
By Chris Siciliano
Voting begins today in the Charlie Papazian-run American Idol-like "Beer City USA", a contest in which loyal beer fans from across the country are asked to choose, solely on the basis of suds, the one city in our great nation that dominates the rest.
This year Grand Rapids joins 30 other contenders on a ballot which includes perennial beer powerhouses such as Portland and San Diego, San Francisco and Chicago. There's no question GR deserves recognition, but do we deserve to win? I contend we do, and here's a list of the reasons why.
By Chris Siciliano
Voting begins today in the Charlie Papazian-run American Idol-like "Beer City USA", a contest in which loyal beer fans from across the country are asked to choose, solely on the basis of suds, the one city in our great nation that dominates the rest.
This year Grand Rapids joins 30 other contenders on a ballot which includes perennial beer powerhouses such as Portland and San Diego, San Francisco and Chicago. There's no question GR deserves recognition, but do we deserve to win? I contend we do, and here's a list of the reasons why.
- Founders Brewing Co.
- HopCat
- Brewery Vivant
- The fact that beneath Grand Rapids there exists a system of old gypsum mines in which area breweries are storing/aging incredible beers, like Founders KBS. (What other city can boast that?)
- Logan's Alley
- Siciliano's Market and the other great beer stores to which we tip our cap (GB Russo's, International, Martha's, et al)
- Mitten Brewing Co.
- Harmony Brewing Co.
- Perrin Brewing Co.
- The Hideout Brewing Co.
- Graydon's Crossing
- The Meanwhile Bar
- The Pyramid Scheme
- Grand Rapids Brewing Co.
- B.O.B.'s Brewery
- Michigan Beer Cellar (Sparta is close enough)
- White Flame Brewing Co. (Hudsonville is close enough)
- Pike 51 Brewing Co. (Like I say, Hudsonville is close enough)
- Rockford Brewing Co. (Rockford is close enough)
- Jaden James Brewing Co.
- Schmohz Brewing Co.
- High Five Co-Op Brewery
- The fact that GR is in close geographical proximity to an array of a pretty incredible West Michigan breweries including Bells, New Holland, The Walldorff, Dark Horse, Arcadia Brewing, Odd Side, Old Boys, Saugatuck Brewing Co., Vander Mill, Jamesport, Crankers, Mt. Pleasant Brewing Co. and so on.
- The Michigan Winter Beer Festival at 5/3 Park.
- The Great Lakes International Cider and Perry Festival
- The Elk Brewing Co.
- A terrific homebrew scene that includes several clubs, contests, and events like this one.
- Siciliano's Market and other area homebrew shops to which we tip our cap (Pauly's, O'Connors, et al).
- Founders Fest
- Hoptoberfest
- Fox Brew Ha Ha
- The thousands of die-hard fans who vehemently support, defend, and make possible the vibrant craft beer scene in Grand Rapids, MI.
Did I forget anything? Let me know by including the breweries/bars/events I missed in the comments section below. And remember, vote GR as Beer City USA!
Monday, April 30, 2012
The best dive bar in Michigan?
 |
| Tim Chilcote |
Why the need for press credentials? Partly we thought it would be interesting if someone other than a Siciliano's employee wrote an account of the event. We're also just big fans of Tim's work—evident in the many, many times we've reposted content from his blog, The Great Lakes Guru.
Here's another instance of us pulling something good straight from Tim's blog. It's an entertaining review of that most venerable of Kalamazoo institutions, The Green Top Tavern, which Tim suggests might well be the best dive bar in Michigan. (Originally published on October 5, 2010 as "Green Top Olympics".)
By Tim Chilcote
The Green Top in downtown Kalamazoo might well be the best dive bar in Michigan. Dark and grimy with a wood bar that runs the length of the room, the Green Top is populated by local drunks and WMU students. But the Green Top is not a hipster dive bar. Oh no, the WMU students who frequent the Green Top are generally in search of cheap drinks and hometown flavor, and are not at all interested in making any hipster dive-bar scene. On almost any night or day, the owners, an older married couple, play bartender. They pour stiff drinks and make average sandwiches to soak up the booze.
For the purposes of this blog post, it’s important to note that the Green Top has a front and back door. The back door opens into an alley and a downtown Kalamazoo parking lot. The front door opens onto Michigan Avenue, Kalamazoo’s downtown thoroughfare.
In the winter of 2002 I was sitting at a banquet table between the jukebox and the pool table. The snow was coming down like a bastard; the kind of wet snow that sounds hypnotic, like television fuzz, the kind of snow that turns a city into a ghost town. So the Green Top was sparsely populated that night with a few die-hards at the bar, and maybe a couple students sitting in the corner.
But the person of note was playing pool, or rather, hovering around the pool table and leaning on his cue. A smallish Mexican man, he looked to be around 50, never removed his stocking cap. To this day, he is hands-down the most intoxicated human being I’ve ever seen standing. He threw back shots of bourbon and glasses of beer at an alarming pace. At some point I remember predicting to my table that he would soon go down.
And then he did. The stout little drunk stepped to the bar, brought his beer to his mouth, and in one fluid motion fell straight back. But the interesting part is he didn’t fall like a normal person, didn’t crumple or try to brace himself, just fell, stiff as a chopped tree. I’d like to think someone said “timber,” but I doubt there was time, because about halfway to the floor, he cracked the back of his head square on the corner of the pool table. I swear to god, I thought he died.
One of the drunks from the bar, likely destined for the same eventual fate, jumped from his seat and pulled the little drunk back to his feet. To my astonishment, he stood again. This noble do-gooder from the bar offered the little drunk a ride home and told him that he just had to run out back and pull his car up, to which the drunk may or may not have replied.
So the good Samaritan went out the back door to get the car, and the little drunk hurriedly stumbled out the front door, whether in an escape attempt or because of an impending prior obligation was unclear. He then walked straight onto Michigan Avenue without even considering traffic; perhaps didn’t even know it was a road thanks to the snow cover.
I stepped outside to watch him disappear down a side street. He wore only jeans, a flannel button-up, and his stocking cap, a cap that might have gone on to save his life twice that night; first as a knit helmet, second as his only protection against the snow storm.
Flash forward six years…
So last time I was in the Green Top (about two years ago) I was with my wife after attending a wedding reception. We were still dressed in formal evening garb.
Unlike the 2002 winter tale, the Green Top was packed; chalk it up to a home football game and nice weather. We were lucky to find one open seat at the end of the bar. I stood. Within minutes, a middle-aged woman appeared on my right and asked if my name was Leroy. No context.
“Leroy?” I said.
“Yeah, Bad Bad Leroy Brown. You’re wearing that suit.”
Fortunately, I’d been drinking scotch at the wedding reception, which tends to make me witty and clever. “Yes, I said, Leroy is the name.”
Then a white-haired man (too young to have white hair) stepped over from the pool table on our left. “Hey, it’s Michael Phelps,” he said, pointing at me, quizzing my wife on the matter. Note: The 2008 Summer Olympics were in full swing. “He’s Michael Phelps, right, the swimmer?” Knowing the Green Top, there was a 50/50 chance that he was messing with us or really thought I was an Olympic gold-medalist.
“In fact, I am Michael Phelps. Pleased to meet you.”
After our brief introductions, the conversation quickly devolved into a good-spirited argument between the two, with a point of contention having something to do with a “dolphin stroke,” including physical reenactments from both parties.
Finally the woman left a dollar at the bar for a diet Coke - shocking - and asked that I pay the bartender and hand her the drink at the table behind us when it arrived.
When the bartender brought the Coke, the cost was $1.25 (probably the Green Top’s most expensive drink). I covered the extra quarter for my new friend and delivered the drink to the table, announcing, “Here’s your goddamn diet Coke,” to which her fellow drunks erupted in laughter.
Bad Bad Leroy Brown indeed.
“In fact, I am Michael Phelps. Pleased to meet you.”
After our brief introductions, the conversation quickly devolved into a good-spirited argument between the two, with a point of contention having something to do with a “dolphin stroke,” including physical reenactments from both parties.
Finally the woman left a dollar at the bar for a diet Coke - shocking - and asked that I pay the bartender and hand her the drink at the table behind us when it arrived.
When the bartender brought the Coke, the cost was $1.25 (probably the Green Top’s most expensive drink). I covered the extra quarter for my new friend and delivered the drink to the table, announcing, “Here’s your goddamn diet Coke,” to which her fellow drunks erupted in laughter.
Bad Bad Leroy Brown indeed.
Friday, April 27, 2012
New Beer Friday - April 27 Edition
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| Southern Tier 2X Milk Stout |
With judging complete in the homebrew contest, it's time we turn our full attention to the homebrew party. Yes we know we've been peppering you with near daily reminders. But think how bad we'd feel if the party came and went and somebody missed it for some unnecessary failure on our part. Anyway here's a quick rundown of what (and what not) to expect at this year's celebration.
Do expect lots of great beer, mostly homebrewed, served up and shared amongst 150 or so like-minded individuals. Do not expect kegs of Bartles & James Wild Berry Spritzer.
Do expect great food and live entertainment and also to take home a selection of party favors including a Siciliano's beer mug, guaranteed to make you the envy of all your friends. Do not expect magical winged creatures to scoop you up at party's end to deliver you safely to your home. Arrange for a DD or cab to do the driving instead.
Do expect more reminders from us to come as the party approaches. Do not expect tickets to remain until the very last minute. Supplies are limited; get your tickets today!
New (and Returning) Beer
- Saugatuck Brewing Neapolitan Milk Stout, $1.99/12oz - "Dark roasty notes balanced with creamy flavors of chocolate, strawberry and vanilla" (source).
- Southern Tier Double 2X Milk Stout, $1.99/12oz - "We couldn’t stop at a traditional milk stout. Ours is a double, an addition to our 2X line, and at 7.5% abv is every bit as delicious as it sounds" (source).
- Magic Hat Elder Betty, $1.59/12oz - "A weiss-style ale with a bready malt flavor balanced by a touch of hops and complimented by tart berry flavors of elderberry" (source).
- Brooklyn Summer Ale, $1.69/12oz - "Brooklyn Summer Ale is a modern rendition of the "Light Dinner Ales" brewed in England throughout the 1800's right up until the 1940's. They were also called "luncheon ales" or even "family ales", because they were refreshing and flavorful without being too heavy. We brew our Brooklyn Summer Ale from premium English barley malt, which gives this light-bodied golden beer a fresh bready flavor. German and American hops lend a light crisp bitterness and a citrus/floral aroma, resulting in a beer with a very sunny disposition" (source).
- Anderson Valley Summer Solstice, $1.89/12oz (cans & bottles) - "This unique copper colored ale is smooth, malty, and lightly sweet, with a delicate hint of spice for that oh-so-drinkable, extra velvety flavor" (source).
- Anderson Valley Brother David's Double, $8.19/22oz - "Winner of the 2011 Great American Beer Festival Gold Medal, Brother David’s Double is rich, dark brown ode to maltiness, with rich dark-chocolate creaminess, and the scent of banana and tropical fruit esters. Faint hop notes linger in the background against classic belgian carbonation" (source).
- Anderson Valley Brother David's Triple, $8.19/22oz - "Brother David’s Triple features a bright, dry fragrance, with aroma overtones of malt, fruit, and freshly mown fields. A 10% ABV ale, it is balanced by a rich malt backbone, spicy hops, and fruity yeast esters. Surprisingly light bodied, the brewers add candy sugar during the brewing process to add alcohol and a medium-high carbonation" (source).
Picture of the Week
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| Grey Dove oyster mushrooms, mid-growth. Kits for sale at Siciliano's! |
Cheers!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Hey Kevin: "Should GR get more national recognition?"
Hey Kevin,
I live in Portland, OR but I was born and lived for a long time in Grand Rapids. I try at least once a year to get back to Michigan and from visit to visit I'm always amazed at the advances in the craft beer scene. My beer geek friends here in Portland don't believe GR is the hotbed for beer I say it is. Frankly they don't pay it much mind. Whatevs. It still makes me wonder: Is Grand Rapids the most under-appreciated beer city in the country?
Pauly from Portland, formerly GR
Hey Pauly,
It's true Grand Rapids doesn't always get the national recognition it deserves for being a great place to find a pint. But I think most people would tell you that's changing. With places like Founders, HopCat, Brewery Vivant, and even Siciliano's firmly established, and with new breweries and beer bars opening all the time, not to mention the Winter Beer Festival and other events, it's hard to deny that something real and good is happening here. Eventually that will become to clear to anyone who cares.
To answer your question, the most under-appreciated beer city in America is actually a small town in Pennsylvania called Rye. Now, I admit, I've never been to Rye and I don't know anyone who has. To the best of my knowledge there are no breweries in Rye nor is there any great beer bars or stores. In fact, I don't know anything about Rye other than what Wikipedia tells me, which isn't much.
Nevertheless, in the grand scheme of things having a name like "Rye" should be worth something, and a whole lot of it. Yet to this day I've never read nor heard anything that gives ol' Rye, PA the respect it deserves. And that, dear Pauly, is a shame.
Hope this helps.
Kevin
The views expressed here are Kevin's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of The Buzz staff nor its parent company, Siciliano's Market. Have a question in need of answering? Submit it to heykevin@sicilianosmkt.com.
*Rye, PA Map located originally at this source.
Head Cheese - Your weekly ration
It's a fact.* Mimes are the most likely of all street performers to seek professional help due to existential crisis. Which makes sense. When was the last time anybody said, boy, I sure could use a good mime right now. It almost never happens, and that's a lonely feeling for mime.
*Not necessarily a statement of fact.
*Not necessarily a statement of fact.
Head Cheese
by Mark Siciliano
Find more Queso de la Cabeza by going here:
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
The rise of craft beer: A different kind of progress
Here's the latest from Weston Easton, PhD candidate in Sociology at Michigan State and monthly Buzz columnist. This month Professor Wes describes how the craft beer movement evolved partly in response to the industrial food system. He also warns against being a beer snob, which is always good advice.
By Weston Eaton
In the United States, the rise of the craft beer movement paralleled a broader awareness of the social and environmental importance of food and agriculture. Exploring the common roots of these two movements can yield some insights into some common trends we see today—as well as some common failings critics are increasingly likely to point out. What I’d like to do here is give a less than scientific account of these co-histories and then point out ways we can all dodge the pitfalls of consumer-based food and drink movements, namely the slippery slope to elitism, snobbery, and indulgent exclusivity.
The years following WWII saw the rise in a number of interlocking trends resulting in full-on modernity, particularly for the realms of food and agriculture, including beer and wine. Social and industrial trends such as increased efficiency, mechanization, standardization, and rational thinking combined with technological advances in farm production to create an abundance of new consumer products and commodities which quickly turned novelty to new-necessity. But what were the costs of all this progress, and who was paying? The environmental backlash, as embodied in Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, published in 1962, highlights the way the industrialization and modernization of our food and agricultural system disconnected society and nature in some very dangerous ways. Some people decided they no longer wished to participate in a food culture that was destroying our planet, and set out not only to oppose what others termed “progress”, but more importantly, to devise more sustainable lifestyles. Thus was born many movements—environmental, women’s, peace, civil rights. Indeed some deemed the U.S. a “movement society.”
This was also the birth of the do-it-yourself, back-to-the-land, “prosumer” movements, as well as a crystallization of organic farming as a political, socially and ecologically aware practice. Chefs and brewers both played an active role in defining how the alternatives to modernized cuisine were to look and taste and also determined the systems by which they were produced. In 1971, Frances Moore Lappe's Diet for a Small Planet linked health to plant-based agricultural systems. Katzen’s time devising and defining vegetarianism at the Moosewood Collective in Ithaca, NY, resulted in the most popular vegetarian cookbook of all time, the Moosewood Cookbook, published in 1977. That same year the Sierra Club published Wendell Berry’s The Unsettling of America, a scathing counterattack on U.S. agricultural policies which culturally and financially devastated American farmers. A bit later, Alice Water’s insistence that Chez Panisse serve seasonal and local produce showed the hidden deficiencies of industrialized agriculture. These mythical figures, and many others, were bent on redefining what food and agriculture should be by attempting to relink in the minds of the public the political, social justice, and ecological linkages between farm and plate.
Within this paradigm shift brewers began to question the industrialist ethic of corporate captured beer. Homebrewers like Charlie Papazian scoured for ingredients to brew their own, and recorded their success in how-to guides such as Papazian’s The Complete Joy of Home Brewing, published in 1984. As I’ve written about many times before, brewers, such as Michigan’s own Larry Bell, reached back through history and time to recreate styles of ales that for all practical purposes were extinct; and in the process create entirely new ones. Yet opening a business as a craft brewer is but one example of this new beer culture. Larger trends include homebrewing (there are more home brewers than professionals) and the do-it-yourself movements in general, generally defined. In this camp I include everything from canning one’s own home grown veggies to baking bread at home to planning and digging one’s own root cellar for storage and lagering. While each person has their own interpretations of the meaning and experience of this movement (broadly defined), like the food movements sketched above, its roots were in dissatisfaction with elite, mechanistic, and environmentally and socially unsustainable processes of production and consumption. It is my argument that this swing of the pendulum, a result of global shifts in power and production post-WWII, spurred the awareness of some few iconoclasts which eventually ‘struck a fundamental chord’ in the hearts of more and more people and yielded the victories and popularity we all celebrate today.
But like any successful social movement, the risks of co-optation are high. The organic movement is a prime example. How much of the grit of the values previously embodied in organic farming has been whittled away since control over its definition shifted scales from local producers to centralized standards? The essential point I want to make here about food, in order to make a connection to craft and home brewing, is the co-option of the meaning and values of organic food by corporate interests and the often uncritical way we consumers have responded. As a result, it's difficult to tease apart the specific usefulness of the organic label—is it meant to give consumers assurance that they are not participating in an unsustainable food system, or that they are eating healthy, untainted food? Or is this just a fashionable trend, a culinary expenditure that begets distinction and attention? What about producers, does this really help their local environments, or just allow them to sell food at a higher price? Obviously such binaries cannot be absolutely true on either extreme, yet the conundrum is clear: the purpose and meaning is open for debate within a field comprised of actors with unequal access to resources and claims to legitimacy and expertise.
What does this mean for craft beer and home brewers? The first point I want to make, and the original impetus of this short tale, is that as a movement, and an increasingly successful one at that, we are all vulnerable for co-optation by higher powers who are keeping an eye on us. In 1989 organics rose above one percent of the market share for the first time, and are now at least twenty percent. Last year craft beer represented almost ten percent of the market. These changes are scary for the powers that be, and by cutting into their profits, they will react. But the co-optation I am concerned about here is more cultural than financial. What does it mean to drink and brew craft beer, professionally and recreationally? Well, did it ever really mean anything in particular in the first place? As demonstrated above, my argument is that it did. Like participants of food and agricultural movements, craft beer drinkers, brewers, and homebrewers come from a long line of iconoclastic visionaries who were dissatisfied with the norms of the world they were born into. They wanted to change things and, importantly, to share the fruits of their labor with others. These challenged norms included the prioritizing of technological modernization and efficiency above all else, including the well-being of workers, consumers, the environment, and of course taste.
In the United States, the rise of the craft beer movement paralleled a broader awareness of the social and environmental importance of food and agriculture. Exploring the common roots of these two movements can yield some insights into some common trends we see today—as well as some common failings critics are increasingly likely to point out. What I’d like to do here is give a less than scientific account of these co-histories and then point out ways we can all dodge the pitfalls of consumer-based food and drink movements, namely the slippery slope to elitism, snobbery, and indulgent exclusivity.
The years following WWII saw the rise in a number of interlocking trends resulting in full-on modernity, particularly for the realms of food and agriculture, including beer and wine. Social and industrial trends such as increased efficiency, mechanization, standardization, and rational thinking combined with technological advances in farm production to create an abundance of new consumer products and commodities which quickly turned novelty to new-necessity. But what were the costs of all this progress, and who was paying? The environmental backlash, as embodied in Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, published in 1962, highlights the way the industrialization and modernization of our food and agricultural system disconnected society and nature in some very dangerous ways. Some people decided they no longer wished to participate in a food culture that was destroying our planet, and set out not only to oppose what others termed “progress”, but more importantly, to devise more sustainable lifestyles. Thus was born many movements—environmental, women’s, peace, civil rights. Indeed some deemed the U.S. a “movement society.”
This was also the birth of the do-it-yourself, back-to-the-land, “prosumer” movements, as well as a crystallization of organic farming as a political, socially and ecologically aware practice. Chefs and brewers both played an active role in defining how the alternatives to modernized cuisine were to look and taste and also determined the systems by which they were produced. In 1971, Frances Moore Lappe's Diet for a Small Planet linked health to plant-based agricultural systems. Katzen’s time devising and defining vegetarianism at the Moosewood Collective in Ithaca, NY, resulted in the most popular vegetarian cookbook of all time, the Moosewood Cookbook, published in 1977. That same year the Sierra Club published Wendell Berry’s The Unsettling of America, a scathing counterattack on U.S. agricultural policies which culturally and financially devastated American farmers. A bit later, Alice Water’s insistence that Chez Panisse serve seasonal and local produce showed the hidden deficiencies of industrialized agriculture. These mythical figures, and many others, were bent on redefining what food and agriculture should be by attempting to relink in the minds of the public the political, social justice, and ecological linkages between farm and plate.
Within this paradigm shift brewers began to question the industrialist ethic of corporate captured beer. Homebrewers like Charlie Papazian scoured for ingredients to brew their own, and recorded their success in how-to guides such as Papazian’s The Complete Joy of Home Brewing, published in 1984. As I’ve written about many times before, brewers, such as Michigan’s own Larry Bell, reached back through history and time to recreate styles of ales that for all practical purposes were extinct; and in the process create entirely new ones. Yet opening a business as a craft brewer is but one example of this new beer culture. Larger trends include homebrewing (there are more home brewers than professionals) and the do-it-yourself movements in general, generally defined. In this camp I include everything from canning one’s own home grown veggies to baking bread at home to planning and digging one’s own root cellar for storage and lagering. While each person has their own interpretations of the meaning and experience of this movement (broadly defined), like the food movements sketched above, its roots were in dissatisfaction with elite, mechanistic, and environmentally and socially unsustainable processes of production and consumption. It is my argument that this swing of the pendulum, a result of global shifts in power and production post-WWII, spurred the awareness of some few iconoclasts which eventually ‘struck a fundamental chord’ in the hearts of more and more people and yielded the victories and popularity we all celebrate today.
But like any successful social movement, the risks of co-optation are high. The organic movement is a prime example. How much of the grit of the values previously embodied in organic farming has been whittled away since control over its definition shifted scales from local producers to centralized standards? The essential point I want to make here about food, in order to make a connection to craft and home brewing, is the co-option of the meaning and values of organic food by corporate interests and the often uncritical way we consumers have responded. As a result, it's difficult to tease apart the specific usefulness of the organic label—is it meant to give consumers assurance that they are not participating in an unsustainable food system, or that they are eating healthy, untainted food? Or is this just a fashionable trend, a culinary expenditure that begets distinction and attention? What about producers, does this really help their local environments, or just allow them to sell food at a higher price? Obviously such binaries cannot be absolutely true on either extreme, yet the conundrum is clear: the purpose and meaning is open for debate within a field comprised of actors with unequal access to resources and claims to legitimacy and expertise.
What does this mean for craft beer and home brewers? The first point I want to make, and the original impetus of this short tale, is that as a movement, and an increasingly successful one at that, we are all vulnerable for co-optation by higher powers who are keeping an eye on us. In 1989 organics rose above one percent of the market share for the first time, and are now at least twenty percent. Last year craft beer represented almost ten percent of the market. These changes are scary for the powers that be, and by cutting into their profits, they will react. But the co-optation I am concerned about here is more cultural than financial. What does it mean to drink and brew craft beer, professionally and recreationally? Well, did it ever really mean anything in particular in the first place? As demonstrated above, my argument is that it did. Like participants of food and agricultural movements, craft beer drinkers, brewers, and homebrewers come from a long line of iconoclastic visionaries who were dissatisfied with the norms of the world they were born into. They wanted to change things and, importantly, to share the fruits of their labor with others. These challenged norms included the prioritizing of technological modernization and efficiency above all else, including the well-being of workers, consumers, the environment, and of course taste.
In short, good beer is meant to make you feel good, and part of this includes introducing others to the joy you have found in brewing or at least enjoying a beer whose values inherently challenge the Ellulian techniques of efficiency and technocracy. There’s something democratic here and that is my final point. Exclusivity, especially as an attitude, as represented by elitism and snobbery, is the opposite of democracy, a concept that does not imply mediocracy, or “par”, but rather the mutual, collective struggle for something better. So keep sharing the good stuff, and remember, craft beer potentially embodies a range of diverse values—what do you see when you look into your glass?
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