The week in heavy drinking. Day 1: Eat Real

I'm a lightweight. I mean, my weight isn't light (due to my beer consumption), but I can't consume all that much beer. So I went on a one-week wagon in preparation for the coming week, which began yesterday in Oakland at Eat Real.

I was interested in all the ice cream carts and fusion taco trucks, but if we're being honest, I was there for the beer shed (over 20 local breweries) and to participate as one of the 10 judges of the first annual homebrew competition. We were given the option of which of the 5 categories we wanted to judge, and while I would've been happy with any of them (session, hoppy, farmhouse, strong, and taco), I opted for the later to see what area homebrews thought constituted a taco-worthy beer. For the record, no, they didn't have to be made with carnitas or cumin or queso fresco, they just had to pair well with tacos. There were only four entries (the winner was an herbal number, possibly jasmine or lavender and ground ginger, maybe grains of paradise; the runner up was a jalapeno stout but it lost points for having a strong root beer flavor, perhaps from fermented in a carboy or keg that previously held root beer). Of course, the sampling continued through the Best of Show round, which went to a Bretty farmhouse ale. Whoever the winners were--congrats, and thanks for entering. Ditto for those who entered the jam competition. I loved sampling 'em all and while I believe the blackberry-chocolate was going to win, my hands-down vote was for the Lemon-IPA marmalade!

From there, it was over to the beer shed. I was surprisingly disappointed with Sierra Nevada's Tumbler (autumn brown ale) because their new releases have really been killing it. But fortunately, I got to try Ale Industries' Rye'd Piper and Black Diamond's Saison (from the description, it tasted like Red Headed Stepchild).

As I was leaving Jack London Square, I cashed in my remaining drink ticket at the juice stand and the perceptive rep from Odwalla steered me toward a tropical number with coconut juice ("It has extra potassium"), hence, while I had an easy-breezy BART ride home, I did not wake up hungover.

Tonight: a Christmas in August Beer BBQ.

Dropped Anchor. End of an era

Though I covered this in the SF Weekly's SFoodie blog and the SF Beer Examiner blog, the sale of Anchor this week keeps me pondering. Don't ask me to rattle off everything great about craft beer and the industry, but one thing I've discussed frequently is that all the forefathers, the pioneers, the movers, shakers, and brewers who got the keg rolling are, for the most part, still around. What other industry could that be said for? Luminaries such as Boston Beer's Jim Koch and Sierra Nevada's Ken Grossman are still captaining their ships, still vibrant and show no signs of slowing down; in fact, both of them keep ramping up great projects. This is what I set out to discover when I started working on Red, White, & Brew. While there was Dick Yuengling and Jake Leinenkugel whose great-great-grandfathers built the breweries they now preside over, I met with D.L. Geary who founded the first microbrewery in New England, Larry Bell who started Michigan's first, Carol Stoudt, the first female craft brewery owner, and more. While all of them have kids now who are working for them and learning the ropes in the hope that one day they take the reins from dear old Dad or Mom, the undisputed father of American craft beer is Fritz Maytag who bought the sinking Anchor Brewery in 1965. This week, after 45 years, he sold it. Just up and sold it.

While not the same level of severity as Kennedy's assassination or a man walking on the moon, I'll never forget when I heard the news. I was at the New Orleans airport returning from Jazz Fest Monday night when Half Pint texted me the news, informing me that our friend Jesse from Beer and Nosh was the first to post it. The shock hasn't really worn off.

Maytag is 72. Last month, Ken Allen, 70, sold Anderson Valley Brewing Co. As the pioneers

reach retirement age, this will happen more and more. It's inevitable. Change is constant. Even among the breweries I selected for RW&B, where longevity was a top criterion, half of the 14 have undergone major changes. And the fact that I picked 14 to represent just 1% of the then-1,400 breweries means it is likely that half of all breweries have experienced such transitions. To wit:

1. Leinenkugel's was already owned by Miller. But the SAB-Miller/MolsonCoors merger of their US operations means that Leinie's is now owned by MillerCoors.
2. New Belgium is employee-owned, but founders Kim Jordan and Jeff Lebesch were majority shareholders. They seemed an odd pairing--her nurturing and talkative, him taciturn and retiring. I just found out they are recently divorced and Lebesch has been completely bought out.
3. Grand Teton was quietly sold by founder Charlie Otto after some 20 years.
4. Widmer Bros. merged with Redhook, both already partly-owned by Anheuser-Busch, to form Craft Brewers Alliance with Kona and Goose Island falling under their umbrella.
5. Anchor, the very first craft brewery, sold, along with its distilling business which was also a revolution in craft adult beverages.
6. Electric Brewing in remote Bisbee, Ariz, everybody's favorite chapter, was sold to a couple of guys who recently opened Dave's Electric Brewpub in Tempe (founded by Electric Dave in 1988, one of the new owners name is also Dave). Far worse, Electric Dave was recently in a life-threatening car accident but is recovering in Bisbee.
7. Dixie Brewing in New Orleans continues to be contract brewed in Wisc. and its return to the Big Easy grows ever unlikely.

Names and faces are changing. Fortunately, beer continues to get better and better. Go enjoy an Anchor Steam and count your blessings.

Cheers

Collaboration Fermentation: Sierra Fishhead

Hopping on the collaborative beers brewwagon, I've started a series on my Examiner blog about such beers. I contemplated calling it Brewing in Tandem, but in the end, Collaboration Fermentation won out. First one up for scrutiny is one that's not even out yet, nor in the mash tanks. The grand poobah Ken Grossman at Sierra Nevada (1980) and the grand wizard Sam Calagione at Dogfish Head (1995), together, in the same bottle? Usually I discuss brewers as pouring their blood, sweat, tears, and souls into their beers, but in this case, it's their Life & Limb (10% strong ale) as well as Limb & Life (5% session beer). Read more here.