(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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The beer scene of Michigan and beyond.
Besides day trips to New York, or work-related trips, I realized in August of last year I hadn’t taken a real vacation in five years. I decided to go to Michigan. Yes, Michigan. I had been enjoying the beers for years. I remember my first bottle of Bells Double Cream Stout at Ten Stone in 2004. I remember the first time I had ever heard of Aaron Morse’s blueberry stout out of Marshall.
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Starting women’s homebrew revolution, one batch at a time.
In The Naked Pint, Hallie Beaune and Christina Perozzi share, “In Medieval times, it was not unusual for the women to be the primary brewers of the household and town. In some cases even master brewers. The Brewers Guild formed and gained power after the 1300’s at which point women were then rarely allowed to be certified brewers.”
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How familiar faces shaped our beer scene.
They were friends. Some were mentors. The elders were teaching the youngsters the ropes. The youngsters were teaching the elders not to be so jaded.
The barkeeps of the late 90s are the foundation of the great pub culture we have today. There’s a group now spread throughout the city running their own bars— but reflect back on a time when they were all working under one roof at Philly’s original beer bar. Khyber’s alumni include Marc Sonstein, Meghan Wright, Kurt Wunder, Casey Parker, Brendan Hartranft, Chris Morris and many more. On the other side of town, there were a few guys — Tom Peters, Fergie Carey and James Fernandez — keeping 15th Street lively. Read more…
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Local BYOBs to pair your favorite food & brews.
I remember my first 750 ml. It was 2001. I was visiting a college friend for the first time in Boston. Denise had graduated a semester earlier than I. Craft beer on almost every corner in State College kept me as a Nittany for a semester longer than most of my peers. Thus, it had been some time since our last outing. She had already settled into her first post-grad job as a dietician in Beantown. She had an apartment in the city, and her new Boston friends. I felt intimidated or inferior somehow. But Denise knew I liked beer, and I was immediately comforted by her suggestion of going to Bukowskis, a divey beer bar. She said, “We’re going to drink a bottle of La Fin du Monde.” La what? We sit at a table and the server comes over to us with a big bottle that appeared to be wine. My-oh-my, what do we have here? She tells me the translation means “end of the world.” I appreciated the fun fact, but it was the beginning of a whole new one for me. Sharing a bottle of beer with her and her new companions that day imparted a sense of immediate community and kinship.
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Women leading the Philadelphia bar scene.
Heather walks quickly across the bar room with a coke refill. She drops it off, picks up a plate with the remnants of arguably the city’s best burger. One who doesn’t know better might think she’s a food runner. Another Heather leaves the bar for an hour to make sure the kids have flip flops for the summer. She’ll put a load of laundry in and come back to make her own pulled pork. Chef quit the day before. Leigh’s 6 months pregnant and she’s working on her Fishtown bar’s garden unbeknownst that in an hour she’ll be fixing her ice machine. A server has called out; Kelly throws on a dirndl and starts serving up spaetzle. Erin runs back and forth between two bars. Bar manager has quit. Said bar manager is also the chef. She already wore a lot of hats. Her hat collection just got larger.
