Sarah told stories that illustrated the creative processes that guided them along their startup journey, and Victor supplemented his wife’s tales with introspective and often etherial thoughts. My inner-entrepreneurial geek settled into the fascinating presentation about the small upstart—that happens to be the only United States jeans producer to own its manufacturing counterpart—when Victor mentioned “terroir.”

You read that correctly. Long ago, we started to associate wine with its terroir, or the surrounding environment (geography, weather, location) that give an object its characteristics. More recently, discussions of terroir have become more prevalent in the beer world. The Times even did a piece on the subject in June, and micro-maltsters base entire business models around the notion.

Now, not only is the beer in our tulip glasses discussed in terms of the moisture of the soil in which its barley grew, but our low-rise, close-fitting jeans have retained characteristics unique to the climate where its cotton was sourced. (All About Beer Magazine contributing writer Stan Hieronymus has written more about the terroir of beer for DRAFT Magazine and on his blog, and there is no dearth of commentary about defining “local” when it comes to beer.)

Instead of framing the discussion in terms of manufacturer size, Victor used “terroir” to separate his jeans, a former commodity that can now command upwards of $250 for a pair, from the likes of Lee, Levi’s and Wrangler. As once-small craft breweries significantly increase their production and enlarge their distribution footprints, will the conversation similarly switch from barrelage to terroir to separate this former commodity that can now command upwards of $160 for a bottle?

If I had told them it was the best beer in the world, would their perceptions have changed?

How much does hype have an effect? Are we much better off knowing nothing about a beer, or is it better to have the knowledge as to what the best beers are?

Which beers do you think have been overhyped? How do you feel when a beer doesn’t live up to it’s hype.

Is hype a good or bad thing for beer? Tell me what you think. I’m looking forward to seeing what the general consensus is.

Preconceived notions and expectations, regardless of whether they reside in our conscious or subconscious, will always play a role in our world (and in this case, beer) experiences. As a burgeoning lad in the beer world, I, like many others, read reviews, devoured ratings and even printed numbers and grades to take with me to bottle shops. Needless to say, I gravitated toward beer stores with shelf talkers—they did the hard work for me!

It’s no surprise, then, that all the 100s, A+s and beers that garnered the 2:00 a.m. release lines all tasted like God’s gift to man or woman. I knew these beers were better than the rest because everyone else told me they were. Who was I to disagree with the seasoned professional beer tasters of print publications (even this one), website databases and blogs? Like Wikipedia, I wasn’t going to argue with these website contributors because we all know that everything on the Internet is true.

Only after I revisited some of these same beers the next year did I realize that I had likely succumbed to the hype machine in my early beer days. Though some of the beers still lived up to their reputations, I found myself preferring other examples of the style that were not so highly rated, sought after or hard to find. That barrel-aged russian imperial stout that may have a day devoted to its release? It’s a great beer, but I actually prefer one made about two hours away from me that I can find on the shelves ninety percent of the time at a bottle shop two miles away from my house.

Today, I still read the reviews and ratings as much, if not more, than I previously did. I digest them, however, during or after I have the chance to experience the beer. I’ve found it to be a wonderful practice to read tasting notes from trusted sources while I simultaneously sample the beer myself, and I enjoy reading the thoughts of others after I’ve formed my own opinions. Some reviewers tend to agree with me, and some always certainly disagree with me. This divergence of opinions is what makes craft beer great though.

There will always be a beer for you. Just make sure it’s you deciding what beer that is.

Now I can pinpoint it on a map. It’s just southeast of the Tex-Ark-Ana tri-state intersection. And I went for a beercation.

Think NOLA, and you’re not inclined to think beer. There are precious few breweries in southern Louisiana, but there are a few, and they are growing (both in terms of their size and number). Louisiana’s other side has zero. None. Not-a-one. Closest ones are over 180 miles away in Dallas. The horror. In an America where the Brewers Association proclaims that the majority of folks live within 10 miles of a brewery, the good people of Shreveport-Bossier (the cities are divided by the Red River, but I gather that residents claim one city or the other, despite the hyphenation) have been living high and dry.

Not dry, just devoid of fresh, local, commercially-brewed beer. There’s plenty to drink. NOLA has its hurricanes and Jello-shots vended from doorways along Bourbon Street, but Shreveport has more drive-thru daiquiri huts than you can shake a gater at. Beer-wise, the choices range from beers with an eagle emblem, the iconic Rocky Mountains, or one that misspells the word light. But scratch the surface and there’s a craft beer culture germinating. There are a couple homebrew clubs—East Texas Brewes Guild, the Malt Munching Mash Monsters (MMMM) and Shreveport Urban Diastatic Spargers (SUDS)—the latter of which member Jeff Pieper just earned World Cup of Beer best-in-show honors. At The Real Pickle, an unassuming deli from the outside, they’ve instituted a passport program to encourage beer-trotters to undertake their own beer odyssey. (Drink twenty different beers, and get a rad shirt; down 100, and earn a radder one.)

There are a few southern Louisiana beers on draft such as Tin Roof Voodoo Bengal Pale Ale, though they need to dispense with the frosted shaker glasses (even if locals may think that’s preferable). Strange Brew stocks all the usuals for those shooting pool or checking out the nightly band on stage, but those offerings are dwarfed in the chillers by intriguing bottles from as-close-as-it-gets St. Arnold’s (Houston) and Lazy Magnolia (Kiln, MS), alongside BrewDog (Scotland) and those Hitachino Nest “owl” beers (Japan). Of course, pop into Lucky Liquor (Blues & BBQ), the bar that fans of True Blood recognize instantly from the show’s opening, and the only “big” beers you’ll find are 40s of High Life.

Best of all, Shreveport’s readying for its first brewery. Attendees at BREW, an honest-to-goodness beer festival which just celebrated its fourth annual celebration ($50 for unlimited beer and food prepared by local restaurants), were introduced to homebrewed versions of beers from the Great Raft Brewing Co., (taking its name from a great bit of local lore about a hundred-mile log jam on the Red River) now in planning. Founded by Shreveporters Andrew and Lindsay Nations, the couple moved back home after being turned onto craft beer in Washington, DC, where they published the DC Beer blog. They realized it was time to bring their friends and neighbors fresh, flavorful beer, and they hope to open late next summer. I just hope they keep making their cleverly named Depeche Mode, a peach saison.

Fingers crossed that by the sixth annual BREW fest, maybe Shreveporters will have more than one craft brewery to call their own, and folks in Magnolia, AR, will await the day they don’t have to drive eighty miles to the nearest breweries in Bossier.

Ever feel like there are many things in this world that are backwards, upside down, wrong… that just don’t make sense? Like local craft beer not being considered ‘domestic’ in the menu of many restaurants in the US… Or like having a beer that doesn’t taste very good have the largest market share…among other things…but, hey. This. World. Is. Not. Perfect!

[W]hat would you change to lead us into the Perfect Beer World? [O]r how do you describe the Perfect Beer World? It’s your world too you know…

Though I believe the beer community is one of the best sub-cultures on this planet, there is always room for improvement. I, along with others addressing this topic, could go on forever. Because Jorge kicked it off with his own three-bullet list, however, I’ll spare you and do the same.

* Beer should be recognized as entirely gender-neutral (or rather, a distinction should never be made).
The most recent culprit of this faux paus, though not beer but still alcohol-related, is TIME Magazine in a recent article about cider. The writer states, “Another reason cider is having a moment is that is there’s a good chance women will drink it. Unlike beer, cider is not viewed as an overwhelmingly male drink.” Only once we stop harping on this distinction will beer become universally agonistic with respect to gender. (Note: I don’t write this with clean hands. All About Beer Magazine published similar gender-defining language in a recent cider piece, and we apologized for our oversight.)

* Casks should be used to showcase a style of conditioning and not used as a way to attract patrons or as an excuse to include the kitchen sink.
I feel comfortable writing that 90 percent of the time I see the word “cask,” it is in all uppercase letters and ends with an exclamation point. In the States, “CASK!” has become synonymous with “something rare that you should not miss” instead of an opportunity to educate the beer-drinking public about a unique aroma, flavor and mouthfeel experience achieved by serving the beer at cellar temperature and with natural carbonation.

Along the same lines, it’s not often that I see casks containing solely beer. “CASK!” has become a code word for stuffing random food items inside the vessel, i.e., orange peels, cocoa nibs, coffee beans, rose hips and maple-soaked oak chips. I require brewers in The Art of Beer cask ale tent at All About Beer Magazine‘s World Beer Festivals to supply their casks free of any additives other than dry-hopping ingredients, and it would be prudent for retailers to start doing the same for the sake of beer quality and cask education in the States.

* Retailers serving craft beer should appropriately educate their staff.
I’m a firm believer in that education directed at all levels, from new drinkers to Master Cicerones®, can only raise the sophistication level of the beer community and get us one step closer to The Perfect Beer World. Of course, self-acclaimed beer bars and restaurants should seek to make sure servers know what piece of glassware to use and how to suggest an appropriate food pairing, but the more important opportunity for advancement of the beer world occurs at the other end of the spectrum—retailers that happen to serve a few micros amongst a sea of macros. This is where lifelong conversions to craft are made. This is where beer epiphanies spring forth. And this is where a knowledgable staff can suggest, or encourage a patron to try, a beer that just might change his or her life.

The All About Beer Magazine staff participate in a cupping at Counter Culture Coffee.

We observed a hopper transferring ingredients, silos holding raw materials and a hand-labeling packaging line that could go only as fast as the two flannel-wearing guys working it. But ne’er a word was uttered about the beers they may have after work that day. We instead discussed the coffee they enjoyed that morning.

Of course the All About Beer Magazine staff has toured all of our local breweries, so we visited the facility of another beverage near and dear to our hearts and to many of those in the greater beer community. Counter Culture Coffee, located just a few miles down the road from our offices in Durham, North Carolina, graciously opened the doors to their roastery, headquarters and training center for our crew during one of their regular Friday cuppings (like a beer tasting in the coffee world and will be further discussed in a later post).

The intersection of coffee and beer—both the similarities in their respective industries and actually combining the two beverages—is hard to ignore. The Brewers Association Style Guidelines introduced a “Coffee Flavored Beer” category in 2002 (changed to “Coffee Beer” in 2011), and the “Spice, Herb, or Vegetable Beer” Category of the BJCP Style Guidelines states that it “may also be used for chile pepper, coffee-, chocolate-, or nut-based beers.”

Along those same lines, as the temperature dropped, the rain fell and the Hurricane Sandy winds whipped across my wind chime, I sipped on a Great Divide Espresso Oak Aged Yeti brewed with Pablo’s Coffee in Denver. And I can think of at least half of a dozen more local coffee-inspired brews, including Mother Earth Silent Night brewed with Counter Culture Coffee, Big Boss Aces & Ates brewed with Larry’s Beans in Raleigh, Highland Thunderstruck Coffee Porter brewed with Dynamite Roasting in Black Mountain and Lonerider Pistols at Dawn brewed with Joe Van Gogh in Durham.

What is it that so tightly unites the coffee and beer cultures and communities? Other than brewing with actual beans to achieve true coffee aromas and flavors beyond those imparted by heavily-roasted malts, consider these similarities I observed last Friday between the two artisinal fields:

* Like the majority of beers, coffee beans are meant to be enjoyed as fresh as possible. Their characteristics begin to fade immediately after roasting, and they are best consumed within four to six months in their unground state.

* The Counter Culture crew appeared to be excited because this particular cupping was the “first showing” of some of these beans to the public. Remind you of a new beer release?

* Coffee beans are often bought in “lots,” and the same beans may greatly differ among different lots, much like the same beer may differ from batch-to-batch.

* One of the more trendier coffee cultivars on the market is Bourbon [pronounced "boor-BONE"]. I seem to recall aging beer in Bourbon barrels being the “it” thing lately. (I make this point in jest…kind of.)

* Like the American Homebrewers Association/Beer Judge Certification Program Beer Scoresheet, we filled out a “cupping form” with notes indicating “type,” “aroma,” “flavor,” “body,” “aftertaste” and a few coffee-specific characteristics like “break” (the smell immediately after gently stirring the floating coffee grinds).

We left Counter Culture that day extremely enlightened by the world of sourcing, roasting, storing, brewing and tasting, and the previously mentioned similarities between our world of beer and their world of coffee are just a drop (or drip) in the bucket.

It goes without saying that like the beer community, the coffee community also has its geeks. After the experience at Counter Culture and further research (I’ll admit to subscribing to several coffee-related blogs, twitter accounts and instagram accounts afterward), this is one geek that may start double-fisting with two seemingly different, but still very related, drinks.

[Note: It appears that coffee is also on beer writer Jay Brooks' mind. See Brooks: Coffee, beer and coffee beers published yesterday for the Contra Costa Times.]

What do menopause, marijuana, and meat have in common? They’re all topics of conversation for writers who specialize in alcohol. (What? You don’t see the connection?)

Okay, try this instead: What happens when you put a bunch of smart, talented, funny people (ranging in age from their late twenties to early sixties) in the same room with excellent (“quaffable”) beer? And said people all write for a living, primarily about beer and/or spirits?

You get an evening of top-notch discussion (about writing, the business of writing, the impact of the web on said business); high quality grousing (about same); and enough laughter and joy to keep those people energized for months to come. And, yeah, okay: you had to be there to understand what menopause, marijuana, and meat have in common. - Maureen Ogle

This roomful of writers were more interested in my reaction to a platter of ribs than they were in the new beer book I was trying to glad-handle that night. And why not? They’re all story tellers, and watching a North Carolina food and beverage writer evaluate one of her home state’s specialty dishes halfway across the country was a potentially dramatic moment. The ribs were decent, although they were slathered in the wrong kind of barbecue sauce (I’m a vinegar and dry rub fanatic). As beer lovers are won’t to do, we were all drinking from each other’s glasses, and British writer Tim Webb finished up my ribs, proving that beer writers are the most laid back folks in the world.

I later got Jeff Cioletti to drop me off on a street corner so I could attend another event, which he did not want to do. But hey, I can take care of myself. If anyone messes with me, I’ll just stab them with a pen and then text Win Bassett, whose smartphone is bionically attached to his wrist. - Anne Fitten Glenn

I believe at one point in the evening, I was chatting with Jay Brooks at Prost Brewing and tried to make a parallel between the RateBeer database and the inner workings of my physics thesis. Jay, with endless patience, didn’t bludgeon me with the nearest Maßkrug, and I’m pretty sure I eventually swung things back around to the topic of beer: how challenging it can be to come to a consensus on the notion of “good beer” and, to a lesser degree, our modest roles as beer writers in helping shape those value systems within the industry. We also talked about French fries and our recent moves.

In a nutshell, this past weekend was an opportunity for many of us to really connect for the first time, as well as to begin some of these larger conversations not only about the beer industry, but about the beer-writing industry. As is the case for craft brewers, we come from hugely disparate backgrounds (there isn’t exactly a PhD program in beer writing out there). There aren’t many of us; we generally have to explain to people what on earth it is we do for a living; and, like the earliest days of craft beer, we’re all trying to make it in (and make sense of) an industry that barely exists. It’s significantly more fun when you realize you’re all in that state together. – Ken Weaver

You guys think you have it bad. Every room we’ve been in this weekend has been yellow. – Anneliese Schmidt, photographer

First, to Ali’s point, I am attaching to a photo of Tim Webb. Ah, yellow journalism.

Second, Win, surprised to see you call this “the largest gathering of beer writers in the States.” You were at the Beer Bloggers Conference in Indianapolis, right? Lot more people. Although I think all of us who gathered in Denver share an affection for print, most of us blog, tweet, post to Facebook, comment, and do all sorts of things that may or may not be actually related to journalism. Were you the only one at both? You might need to jump back in here and give us a little compare and contrast. Do they talk about beer more? Less? Who do they make fun of? What do they really think of John Holl? These are the questions we forgot to ask you in Denver. - Stan Hieronymus

What do you get when you cross a bunch of beer writers with another bunch of beer writers? That’s easy. An entirely enjoyable and utterly unanticipated night of idea exchanging, editor slagging – good-natured, of course, or at least for the most part – mutual encouragement, occasional cynicism and, ultimately, very cold, very good martinis. – Stephen Beaumont

As a full-time freelancer writer, I’m used to toiling in solitude, with my dog typically the only person I talk to during the day. It’s rare that I get a chance to interact with fellow writers, much less beer writers, a rare tribe that seemingly only exists in the brew-soaked shadows of bars, breweries and beer festivals. Thus, getting a chance to chat with a gang of fellow beer scribes was a bit of a Halley’s Comet moment—something I feel lucky to have experienced at once. Their shared knowledge, experience, advice and intensely enjoyable griping led to a wholly unexpected, wholly pleasurable evening. My only regret was that I had to leave so early, unable to hear what people said after they really got good and tanked. – Josh Bernstein

Writers read each other. We look at what others are producing and wish we had thought of it, or had that kind of access, or whatever. For those committed to the craft, it fuels our desire to be better and to learn from those around us. This group that gathered in a small back room of a brewery while the revelry of the Saturday evening GABF session raged a short distance away all knew each other even if they hadn’t yet met in person. What I saw and experienced was the change from acquaintances into friends. While we are still competitors on some level, we are united in the common thread of beer and words. In that respect, we are not much different than the brewers and businesses we cover. I’m already looking forward to the next gathering. – John Holl

Having been lobbying to get the beer writers guild up and running again since 2007, when I first contacted and began pestering a number of friends and colleagues, it was immensely gratifying to finally have a get together of beer writers. This is especially true when it was the highlight of the week for me, and apparently many others. It finally feels like we have the momentum to launch, or re-launch, a beer writer’s guild. Thanks to everyone who made it out. I definitely think this should be an annual event, like when we used to meet at the Tattered Cover book store in the days of yore. With a little more planning—really any planning—I feel confident we can find a new location each year to get together, drink a few beers, and discuss the state of the world, solving all of the world’s problems in the process. Or did it just feel that way? – Jay Brooks

I arrived after the dinner and stayed until after the martinis, so I got to see the looser end of the evening, the time when we stopped being just beer writers and started talking like the old friends with either are or will come to be. That’s what’s important here: the stories we tell are always better when we share them with people, people who can react, add their own opinion and have the ability to help you see something in a different way (or at least fight for their opinion). If all we ever did was tap and scribble away on our own, then our stories would suck. Why was it important to meet up? Because now we’ve gained colleagues and friends we can call on to check a fact, argue an opinion or just brag about who has the best-seller on Amazon. – Mark Dredge

Although I was only able to attend the meeting briefly, I sensed the need for such meetings, as a forum to talk about professional matters. It was a great chance to see people face to face, something that is woefully infrequent in the electronic era and to catch up with one another about personal projects, both past and present. Our hosts could not have been more gracious, and I look forward to the next meeting, where ever it may be. – Jamie Magee

Are beer writers folks who cover beer, or beer lovers who’ve chosen to spend our livelihoods writing about it? I finally found the answer in that brewery’s back room, during GABF but just scarcely removed from it. The people who filled that room consisted of a few friends I’ve known for a while and a few I’ve only read and possibly emailed or Facebooked but never met. In all cases, even before arriving, they had my respect and admiration. We drank together (obviously), laughed together (frequently), and then walked out together as a group (most of us continuing on to yet another brewery). By night’s and pint’s end, my respect and admiration for them had doubled, augmented by new or deeper friendship and affinity. So, that question—writers about beer or drunks who write? All I’ll say is, all in attendance had impeccable taste in beer, were vigilant against bad diction, professionals who know their worth, and opposed casual F-bombs in their work but were not afraid of dropping them when appropriate (or hilariously inappropriate). I can’t wait for the next opportunity to get together, and not only do I plan on smuggling in some special bottles, I’ll make sure we discard the evidence even though it seems ridiculous that we should have to. – Brian Yaeger

In a sense, I was a bit of an outsider at the meeting because of all of the different hats I wear. While I spend a lot of time writing about the business side of beer, both craft and macro, I do a fair amount about non-beer beverages. I think that in a lot of ways, it’s a positive thing because it affords me the perspective on how craft beer fits into the grand scheme of the beverage market. Craft beer is my passion, and sometimes, I find it difficult to walk the line between advocate and objective observer.

It was also interesting to hear everyone talk about writing fees and such, especially since I’m one of the editors to whom freelance writers frequently pitch stories. But fortunately, as I learned at the meeting, we tend to register a lot higher on the fairness meter than a lot of other media properties out there. – Jeff Cioletti

I joined the convocation late and couldn’t stay long, but I left with a thought-provoking article idea nonetheless. While a spirited discussion among myself, Steven Beaumont and British writer Tim Webb ended with a debate about the impossibility of putting quality beer cans (of course it was the Brit who dissed the can), it began with assertions about American exceptionalism and questions about the lasting impact of the American beer industry on the world stage. For all of its boast and bluster, the American beer scene is producing a lot of crap. Wild experimentation has led to a spasmodic spewing of barrels, bugs and odd ingredients that seems to lack a center. Aside from our obsession with loads of hops, will any of this be of lasting importance in the world of beer? Or is it that sense of adventure itself that will be our contribution? – Michael Agnew

I spent most of my time listening that night. As one of the younger members of the group (likely youngest), I enjoyed listening to my fellow beer writers even more than contributing to their conversations. But that’s my typical MO: I sometimes think of myself as an industry observer rather than a writer, as I spend much more time reading and listening than I do scribbling and typing. A small side conversation I did participate in though ranged from post-9/11 memories to the caliber of thinkers that work in beer. Looking back on that gathering, I feel thankful to have shared thoughts and space with many similar observers, and many of those seriously talented thinkers who have decided to devote their time and thoughts to beer. – Christopher Shepard

And somewhere in the soup—the basic stock from which it is made perhaps—a feeling that these mad chaotic moments in beer history need more chronicling than can be achieved by blogging and rating alone. Not just more writers but more books and more valued and valuable opinions. Where food and wine have gone, surely beer must follow, if it is ever to be taken as its producers and proponents would wish. – Tim Webb

Brewers and members of the media file into Wells Fargo Theatre for the GABF awards ceremony on Saturday morning.

Promoted because “[b]rewers are increasingly looking for ways to brew beers in sync with the harvest season,” and the timing of GABF this year in October corresponds with the annual (and short) hop harvest window in the States, the category garnered thirty-four entries in its debut. The Brewers Association defines Fresh Hop Ale, or Category 15, as

[a]les which are hopped exclusively with fresh and undried (“wet”) hops. This ale should have characters similar to the style to which it is brewed with the added nuances of green, almost chlorophyll-like character with fresh, new beers. These beers may be aged and enjoyed after the initial (“fresh hop”) character diminishes. Unique character from “aged” fresh hop beers may emerge, but they have yet to be identified and discussed. Brewers may provide information indicating style of beer.

The inaugural medal winners in the new category were brought to you this past weekend by the letter “C,” both in terms of origin and defining ingredients. California, which is no stranger to making hops the headliners in its beers, took home the top two spots with Sierra Nevada’s Estate Homegrown Ale and Russian River’s HopTime Harvest Ale, respectively. Tommyknocker’s Colorado IPA Nouveau cleaned up the category by adding a bronze to Colorado’s extensive medal collection on Saturday.

And the fun doesn’t stop there. Sierra Nevada’s beer uses Cascade, Chinook and Citra hops grown a few yards from the brewery. Its northern California neighbor, Russian River, picked Cascade, Chinook and Gargoyle (this is another name for California Cluster hops, so the “C” theme continues) from a nearby farm for its beer. Cascade, this time grown in Colorado, also plays lead (and the only) actor in Tommyknocker’s entry.

What do all of these “Cs” tell us? Two of America’s beer pioneering states, California and Colorado, continue to lead the way in quality with respect to crafting hop-forward beers, and their farming and handling of the plant continues to improve in a field where the Pacific northwest still dominates due to its cool, dry climate. And the previously mentioned hop varieties that are able to be grown in California and Colorado with enough quality yield appear to impart the characteristics vaguely defined in the Guidelines, but do they have anything in common?

One of the primary ways that fresh hops differ from their dried counterparts is the greater retention of their essential oils, notably humulene, myrcene, caryophyllene and farnesene. Myrcene, in particular, contributes to the “green, almost chlorophyll-like character” sought in the Style Guidelines. It’s no surprise, then, that myrcene makes up approximately 45-60 percent of the essential oils in Cascade. Similarly, 60-65 percent of Citra’s oils are myrcene, and Cluster commands 45-55 percent. Though a bit lower but still somewhat significant, 35-40 percent of Chinook’s oils are myrcene.

Not only will it be interesting to observe the evolution of medal winners in this category in years to come with respect to origin and hop varietals, but the style guidelines leave open the base style of the entries. Though this year’s winning beers were pale ales or India pale ales, could we see a fresh-hopped red ale or rye ale take a medal next year? How about a “green and freshly herbaceous“ Kölsch?

I said, I wanna be a singer like Lou Reed.

I like Lou Reed, she said, sticking her tongue in my ear.

Let’s go, let’s sit, let’s talk.

Politics go so good with beer.

Granted, I didn’t discover it until it was repackaged with their indie full-length Surfer Rosa (yes, I spent a good number of years thinking my single CD was called Surfer Rosa/Come On Pilgrim), but I still look to ’87 as the turning point. Or maybe it should be 1989 when I first saw the Pixies in concert on their Doolittle tour with Bob Mould (fresh off Husker Du) and John Doe (on-and-off X), for which I’m eternally grateful to my friend Robbie’s mom for driving us since I wasn’t yet 16. The Pixies never were and could never have been Top 40. Black Francis’s lyrics and singing style just weren’t easily digestible. Joey Santiago’s guitar riffs were fun but not predictable enough. Kim Deal’s bass lacked any clean professionalism, which made her more endearing. Alas, I have nothing to add about David Lovering’s drums but he’s awesome nonetheless.

Ultimately, the Pixies flipped the switch for me and many others. Kurt Cobain credited them for influencing Nirvana’s Nevermind. I may not espouse the grunge era, but I’m forever grateful that it killed off the hair metal era.

In some ways, that’s exactly what the craft brewing class of 1987 achieved. It marked the end of the beginning of craft brewing. No less an authority than the Hopfather of the industry, Charlie Papazian, in his blog post about “Trailblazers of American Craft Brewing, Part 1” cites the era as occurring from 1983-1987 (regardless of the fact that a small handful of micros had opened—and in a couple cases closed—before then).

Twenty five years ago, an elite clique of breweries opened for business. On the West Coast, there’s Anderson Valley Brewing Company in California and Full Sail (nee Hood River Brewing Company) in Oregon. On the East Coast, there’s the Brooklyn Brewery in New York and Stoudt’s in Pennsylvania. But it wasn’t just the coasts. Brewpubs and micros sprang up all over including Bayern in Montana and the Lakefront Brewery in Wisconsin.

Considering I was 13 in ’87, my taste in beer and indeed my affinity for it didn’t kick in for several years, but Dixie Blackened Voodoo was my Come on Pilgrim of beer. Dismiss it as not “craft” if you must, but it really was Dixie’s first all-malt beer and it’s not like the schwarzbier style is all that Top 40. Come to think of it, Blackened Voodoo and Black Francis make for a killer pairing.

What was brewing in your life a quarter century ago? Did it in any way put you on the path to better beer? And while you’ve probably reminisced about the beer that turned you many times, where does it fit into the soundtrack of your life?

We rounded up a few pumpkin- and Oktoberfest-related festivals around the United States so you wouldn’t have to expend any of your stein-holding energy on finding a good place to…well, hold a stein!

Pumpkin Beer Festivals
Cambridge Brewing Co. Great Pumpkin Festival | Cambridge, MA
Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin Festival | Philadelphia, PA
Elysian Great Pumpkin Beer Festival | Seattle, WA

German Oktoberfests
Fredericksburg Oktoberfest | Fredericksburg, TX
Frankenmuth Oktoberfest | Frankenmuth, MI
Helen Oktoberfest | Helen, GA
Lake Worth Oktoberfest | Lake Worth, FL
Leavenworth Oktoberfest | Leavenworth, WA
Torrance Oktoberfest | Torrance, CA

Brewery Oktoberfests
Harpoon Octoberfest | Boston, MA
Samuel Adams Octoberbest | Boston, MA
Hofbrauhaus Las Vegas Oktoberfest | Las Vegas, NV
New Ulm Oktoberfest | New Ulm, MN

Other Exciting Oktoberfests
Oktoberfest-Zinzinnati | Cincinnati, OH
Denver Oktoberfest | Denver, CO
Irondequoit Oktoberfest | Irondequoit, NY
La Crosse Oktoberfest | La Crosse, WI
Ocean Beach Oktoberfest | San Diego, CA
Charlotte Oktoberfest | Charlotte, NC
Tulsa Oktoberfest | Tulsa, OK
Soulard Oktoberfest | Soulard, MO
Oktoberfest by the Bay | San Francisco, CA

Don’t see a festival on our list that you would recommend? Tell us about it in the comments!

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A few of Wicked Weed Brewing Co.,'s offerings at Brewgrass in Asheville, NC.

Hundreds, if not quite a thousand people stood in line before the gates opened at noon outside Martin Luther King Jr. Park, which is a short walk from downtown Asheville. After securing spots for their camping chairs and blankets in front of stage at one end of the grass field, beer enthusiasts flocked to the beer tents lining the outer perimeter of the city park.

The majority of the approximately forty breweries pouring were from within North Carolina and included hometown favorites Asheville Pizza and Brewing Co., Craggie Brewing Co., French Broad Brewing Co., Green Man Brewing Co., Highland Brewing Co., Lexington Avenue Brewery, Oyster House Brewing Co., Pisgah Brewing Co. and Wedge Brewing Co. Brewgrass is still one of the few times that Wedge owner Tim Schaller lets his Iron Rail IPA, or any of his fantastic beers, outside of his taproom in the River Arts District.

Wicked Weed Brewing Co., an Asheville brewpub-in-planning, received the biggest pre-festival buzz, and the resulting, yet deserved line in front of its tent showed for it. In addition to its Cucumber Cooler, a 5 percent ABV American golden ale with cucumber, basil and juniper berries, brothers Walt and Luke Dickinson (who recently finished his last day at Dogfish Head), along with their third partner, Ryan Guthy, poured their popular Freak double IPA and Transgressor West Coast imperial red. They commented the following day that at one point, over 175 people were in line for their beers. (Though my time in the line that snaked across the middle of the park was minimal, I never heard a single complaint from beer lovers anxious to try one of Asheville’s newest up-and-comers.)

Located an hour outside of the city in Morganton, NC, Catawba Valley Brewing Co. was also the talk of the festival. Among some of its other beers, the brewery brought its Loretta, a 7 percent ABV Belgian strong ale brewed with fresh cantaloupe and cayenne pepper, and its Arlo’s PB&J brown ale with roasted peanuts and raspberries. Like Funky Buddha’s No Crusts that I sampled at Brewvival in February, Arlo’s reminded me of my mom neatly slicing my sandwich into pillow-like triangles before school started for the day. Look for this beer at the Great American Beer Festival next month in Denver.

Brewing beer just south of the Tarheel State, South Carolina’s Holy City Brewing Co.’s Smoked Märzen also seemed to be a standout of Brewgrass. By adding smoked malt to a traditional German Märzen recipe, the brewery crafted a sweet, amber lager at 6.5 percent ABV with just enough campfire character to let you know that fall had arrived, even though the temperature reached 80 degrees on Saturday and left this beer writer with a red nose (from that fire ball in the sky, mind you).

Other than the wonderful beer and foot-stomping live music, perhaps what makes this festival special every year is how much fun everyone has. And I’m not just talking about attendees. Brewers, brewery owners and brewery representatives have the longest days at beer festivals, often having to serve the entire time to people who eventually end up asking for “your choice” or “whatever has the highest alcohol.” At the end of this day (and actually well into the next morning), however, all that personnel from a certain brewery building a rather large facility in the area had to say was how much fun they had pouring for their fans.