Top Beer Styles For This Hoppy Holiday
By Ian Guevara
The holiday period of late December and early January as an adult is a wild ride. I am not speaking of that age range of 18-29 year olds who think they’re adults. That glorious age range where drinking beer, whiskey, and spiked eggnog only results in a temporary hangover and a great set of stories riddled with holes from a rolling blackout.
No, I am speaking of that time passed 30 when your late nights are not spent slamming spiced rum and candied pecans, but rather spent wrapping presents and dreading the ticking countdown of a clock reminding you that it is near time to just turn around and watch little hands shred to bits hours of careful construction.
Obviously what we do to cope with this shift in life’s paradigm is “lightly” indulging in libations. At this point in my life, I can not crush a sixer or two while dealing with severe sleep deprivation, so I pick six beer styles to imbue, each one with its own purpose and pairing with my family's traditional fare.
Brown Ale
The standard of this holiday beer list. With its malty, roasty, nutty, chocolate, and toffee notes, the Brown Ale is a must have.
My personal favorite right now is Civil Life’s Brown Ale out of St Louis, Missouri. It is delectable and rich in its malts and roasty flavors. I was introduced to Civil Life’s Brown Ale last year around this time when my girlfriend returned from St. Louis after visiting family and it instantly became one of my favorite beers.
Brown Ales are typically good beers to pair with pheasant and fowl. I find that Brown Ales serves as the perfect beer when overfilling that plate with various stuffings, dressings, and bits of that tasty roasted goose.
Stout
Dessert, dessert, dessert. Nothing better compliments that holiday smorgasbord of desserts like a tasty stout rich and thick in sweet maltiness and a slight hop bitterness. Bonus points if it is an imperial stout aged in a bourbon or rum barrel.
This is a beer where you need to take your time, which is a benefit because we all need a metaphorical “stop” sign when plowing through that fine holiday course. Enjoy the beer and final course, slow it down. And melt into the evening.
My current go-to Stout is Second Line Brewing’s Annunciation, a Caribbean Rum Barrel-Aged Coffee Stout that presents a vibrant sweetness and bitter balance. Perfect sipper to pour and pair with a pecan pie or banana pudding.
Porter
Every Christmas I am tasked with “cooking” THE spiral ham for Christmas dinner. Brown sugar, all-spice, nutmeg, cinnamon, ground clove, and pina colada moonshine serve as my glaze. Pineapple chunks and cherries soaked for days in said moonshine serve as the morsels of delight around the outside of the ham, giving it the appearance of a sweet and savory porcupine of gout and diabetes.
The best beer to pair with this dish can only be the Porter with its silky smooth chocolate notes with balanced malt and hop notes. The Porter balances the saltiness and fats of the spiral ham, providing a fantastic array of flavors that bounce around on the tongue delightfully.
Gnarly Barley’s Korova Milk Porter is my current favorite, providing all the best qualities found in an oatmeal Baltic porter. It possesses a splendid silky smooth chocolaty taste followed by only a slight bitterness.
Spiced Ale
Fall and winter have so many flavors and smells that surround those cool and brisk days. The savory cloves stuffed in fatty meats, the smell of allspice filling the lungs, the whiff of ginger and brown sugar from tender cookies, and the hint of cinnamon grabbing you like a cartoon scent cloud pulling you to a warm tasty pie, these are the smells of the holidays.
A spiced Ale is the best all-around holiday beer to just pull you into the holiday spirit and keep you there well past “King’s Day”.
Have you ever wondered what leaves changing color tastes like? The Witch Please, an Imperial Amber Ale spiced with all-spice, cinnamon, and nutmeg is the answer, it is the only answer. It is the best spiced ale to get the holiday juices flowing.
Black Lager
A typical Irish New Years day dinner can not be complete without the classics of corned beer, black eyed peas, and cabbage. With New Orleans having a fairly heavy Irish influence, this menu remains a staple every first of the year. I can not think of any family New Years party that did not include these fares.
I can not think of a better beer to pair with a life restoring New Years meal than a typical Dark Lager. With its dark chocolate hue and deep malt flavor, a fine Dark Lager may scare you with its deep opaqueness, but do not be scared to dive in, this beer is rather light for a darker brew and goes with any holiday meal.
Great Raft Brewing’s Reasonably Corrupt is a Black Lager you cannot turn away from. Malty and chocolaty with a crisp finish, this is a wonderful beer to pair with your New Year’s Feast or 12th king cake.
Miller Lite
I mean, not everyone likes a good craft beer and I understand that. I dont always need to watch a movie that creates depth through mise en scene and camera angles. Sometimes I like a big dumb action movie like Con Air or Commando. That is how I feel about Miller Lite (or Coors Lite or PBR), sometimes a big dumb beer is all you need to enjoy that holiday party.
Miller Lite is my choice currently. I used to be a Coors man, but as I have aged and fallen in love with craft beer, I have found that the only “Lite” beer that has any sense of flavor is Miller Lite. A good Miller Lite is paired wonderfully with a menthol cigarette and a $1.49 can of pirouettes.
Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy New Year, Merry 12th Night, and Happy New Year. It does not matter what beer you are drinking, as long as your are enjoying it and enjoying the company surrounding it.
One-Pack, Two Flights, and a National Crisis
By Ian Guevara
“We don't sell six packs like that,” the portly attendant pointed out to me.
All I wanted was a taste of different beers.
We rolled into the Sugarlands Ranger Station a little too early to check into our campsite at Elkmont and were craving some brews for the next couple of nights.
We pulled into a packed parking lot filled with license plates from Alaska to New Mexico. The Sugarlands is always crowded, but so is the national park itself. The last time I was at this ranger station was the year before the pandemic in the summer of 2019.
I wove through the crowded guest entry to the public restrooms in the back, four hours on the road with no bathroom break was causing my bladder to scream for help. The bathroom was disgusting. I’ve been to the Smokies many times before along with some other national parks like Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Denali, and the Everglades and never had I ever seen a National Park restroom so terribly maintained.
As I waited in line, one patron who could only be described as a walking and talking American flag spoke to a similarly dressed comrade in arms.
“Peeeee-yuh, these bathrooms are DIS-GUS-TIN,” remarked one red hat.
“Well, President Trump cut half the funding to national park services.” explained the other red hat.
“If Trump says it needed to be done, then it needed to be done,” answered the first walking Super PAC.
“Yeah, but I sure don't like standing in piss,” retorted a separate patron along the wall.
Let me get on my soapbox for a moment here folks. The National Park services need our help. There is nothing that compliments a crisp and clean beer more than the crisp and clean outdoors. More and more, your national parks, forests, and refuges are being attacked by outside corporate interests who only look to profit from its bounty instead of sharing it and enjoying it.
These are the last places where we can see nature as it was intended to be seen, with minimal encroachment from humanity. The sights and splendor I’ve enjoyed over my life under the trees of our nationally protected parks and services are woven into my life and inseparable from my soul.
We cannot allow these splendid places to fall under disrepair and neglect due to the shortsided machinations of politicians who wouldn't know a Yellow Poplar from an Eastern Hemlock.
If you care enough for our parks, please donate anything you can at this website: https://www.nps.gov/getinvolved/donate.htm
Anyway, back to the story… Where was I? Ah yes, the Sugarlands.
Instead of trekking into the wilderness without a couple of six packs, Chuck, Bryce, and myself took a short detour into Gatlinburg to the little general store right across the street from the national monument-sized Nantahala Outdoor Center.
The sun beat down the valley causing the heat from the asphalt to make me sweat from just breathing. I stepped into the store and beelined for the beer cooler in the back. The selection of craft brews were sparse. It seems the customers of this establishment only consume Buds, Coors, Nattys, and Millers.
But hidden amongst the riffraff of domestic beer sat several six packs for beer from Yee Haw Brewing. I didn't want to pay for five overpriced six packs sets of beers, I wanted a variety.
So I did what any blue blooded American would do: I made my own mix and match six pack.
Surely, I thought, the attendants won't be paying much attention and will just scan the beers and move on.
I was wrong. I was very wrong.
I walked up to the counter with the sixer, slapped it on the counter with a back of chewy Jolly Ranchers in a futile effort to camouflage my subterfuge. I quickly added two Slim Jims, a pack of Starburst Gum, and asked for a pack of smokes.
This will distract her, I proudly claimed to myself.
“We don't sell six packs like that,” the portly attendant pointed out to me, “Where did you find this?”
“Uh, I don't know, I found it like this and thought that a variety pack was pretty cool.” I coyly responded.
“No sir, we can not sell you beer like this.”
I was not going to go back to the cooler and replace all the cans, I’m not desperate, there are other stores. But I do wish that more places would allow for some mixing and matching. I know that the local grocery stores around New Orleans allow for it, and it’s a great idea. Beer lovers love variety. It's the whimsy that makes drinking craft brews so enjoyable.
What I needed to do was just go to a brewery, drink some beer, and buy a growler or two.
Located in the middle of a fork in the road at the split between highways 441 and 321, Gatlinburg Brewing Company is just the right little micro brewery to visit while traversing Gatlinburg. The round building with its distinct coned roof that towers over the intersection just gives off the vibes as a friendly and enjoyable venue.
Opened in 2019, Gatlinburg Brewing Company has quickly become a local favorite among the people who live in and around Gatlinburg. Paired with its 13 carefully crafted brews is an open pizza kitchen rocking out woodfired pizzas where the crunch can be heard from the moon and the smell picks you up like the alluring cartoon aromas enticing you towards it.
The beer menu is extensive with so many delectable brews from which to choose. Flights will be drunk! Pizza will be eaten! All will be right in the universe.
My first flight was filled with “G.P.A.”, “Breakfast Juice”, “Don't Feed the Bears”, and “Murphy’s Law-ger”. G.P.A is a Session IPA displaying a light daffodil color and a slight hoppy aroma. This beer is hoppy from start to finish with a slight sweetness to balance it out, beers like these are forcing me to turn the corner on IPAs. Breakfast Juice is a New England Style IPA showing a pineapple color with a supple citra scent. It starts slightly juicy, finishing very hoppy and bitter and yet another beer that adds to the pantheon of Ian Guevara becoming an enjoyer of IPAs.
Don't Feed the Bears is an English Style Brown Ale manifesting a mocha color and a sweet malty froth. It’s sweet, smooth, and light, starting and finishing with a roasty malt caramel flavor. Murphy’s Law-ger is Honey Lager exhibiting a canary color and mild balanced smell. It’s light and crispy, starting balanced and ending with a honey bready aftertaste making for a very tasty Dad Beer entry and definitely the perfect beer to pair with a plate of hot wings.
Speaking of hot wings, I ordered some. Crispy, buttery, and spicy, just the perfect appetizer. I took a little break and started my walk to the door to step out for a quick dart, when the brewmaster, Phil, a burly bearded man with catcher’s mitts for hands, called me over. We spoke briefly about my journey and all the breweries I’ve visited so far. He gave me some suggestions and was nice enough to follow Trail Hoppin on Instagram.
Returning back to my table a beautiful, bubbling baked pepperoni pizza sat waiting for me. It called on me like the sirens of the Odyssey, and I accepted the call. If you’re ever in Gatlinburg, the ONLY pizza you should ever order is the pizza from Gatlinburg Brewing Company.
As a desert, I ordered a second flight. This flight flowed with “Pigeon River”, “Gouden Diovelsbier”, “Le Conte Triple Belgian Triple”, and “Jesco Wheat”. Pigeon River is a Pilsner appearing with a lemon color, incredible clarity, and a slight hoppy smell. This crispy and sweet pilsner is perfect paired with a pretzel and baseball game and finishes with a hoppy finish that's delightful.
Gouden Diovelsbier is a Belgian Strong Golden Ale revealing an alluring gold color with great carbonation and a floral hop smell. This brew has a very high alcohol content and is high octane! It reminds me of Andygator from way back in the day before its ABV was cut down. Le Conte Triple is a Belgian Triple showcasing a Honey colored and balanced and muted hop scent. It's sweet and soft to start with a slight spiciness at the end.
The beer of the day is the Jesco Wheat, a Wheat Beer parading a lovely butter color and a citrus aroma. It's super crispy, starting light and airy and finishing with a muted citrus kick. A good wheat beer is always a pleasant experience, especially when the brewer finds that balance between graininess and citrus punch.
Open from noon to 1am daily, Gatlinburg Brewing Company is the brewery in Gatlinburg. The brewer, Phil, is constantly at work, applying his imagination and cunning to beers that taste as bold as the scenery surrounding this hovel of hops.
Like the Rock of Gibraltar, this brewery looks over all who traverse Gatlinburg, enticing all visitors.
Pale Ales and Pale Asses
By Ian Guevara
The other side of the Smokies. The Tennessee side. Almost like another world. It feels almost foreign.
This is also the last couple of days of my beer journey. Still camping, still drinking, and still in the great outdoors. Life really can't get much better than this.
Chuck and his son Bryce have joined me on this last leg of the journey. Chuck is more familiar with this side of the Smokies. Much like the east side is my happy place, this is his.
We set up camp at Elkmont Campground, only a 15 minute drive through green canopies and thick mountain haze from Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It’s a campground surrounded by scenic trails, a cold creek, and a long abandoned resort town that was once the summer home for dozens of city dwellers seeking the simpler life of the outdoors.
Like most national park campgrounds, Elkmont is packed to the brim with campers from all across the country. And, like most national park campgrounds, Elkmont does not possess any showers on its properties, just an ice-cold stream and a few frequently used restrooms.
I’ve gone days without a shower, I know the routine. I’ve spent a week backpacking in mountains where I’ve gone smell-blind to my own aroma. It’s the nature of backpacking that one gets stinky, the price one pays for the thrill of backpacking, camping, and seeing breathtaking sights.
I have biodegradable face wipes that serve as a “dry shower”, a way to strip the body oils and allow myself a better sleep at night. But it’s been unusually hot this summer and even though I feel infinitely better after a wipe down, the midnight sweats just lead to an uncomfortable slumber.
After a couple of days of hiking the trails around the campground, slugging down craft brews, and eating three straight dinners of hot dogs and chili, we are ready to visit Gatlinburg and the two breweries residing in the tourist hamlet.
But I was quite smelly and needed a shower.
There are no showers in Elkmont, so what am I to do?
“Just bath in the creek, man,” Chuck suggested.
“I cant do that here, there are children.” I quickly responded.
“There’s a nice swimming hole down the road, just do it there,” Chuck answered.
So we drove about a mile down the road where a bend reveals a man-made staggered wall made of concrete. At the bottom is a beautiful little deep swimming hole, created by thousands of years of erosion at the bend.
Crawling down the concrete steps, I looked up over my shoulder to the road. Bryce’s car was out of site as was the road. Or so I thought.
I disrobed down to my birthday suit, grabbed my biodegradable camp soap, and dove into the ice-cold creek. It was invigorating. The shock of diving into that cold water literally shot all of the cold water out of my lungs, but swimming around quickly warmed me up.
Then I hear the faint humming of a car engine and the sound of tires hugging the pavement of a mountain road curve. A car zips down the other end of the bend in the road, clearly in my sight. Thankfully I’m fully submerged, but I don't feel like causing a commotion over my inflated dad-bod.
With haste I wash my hair, rinse off, and swim back to the concrete wall.
I should be out of sight here, I miscalculated with great error.
As I climbed the first step out of the water, I hear the tell tale sign of a car approaching again. Before I can slip on my underwear, a white National Park Service SUV rounds the bend, catching a full view of my bare ass.
“Well, shit,” I say aloud.
I quickly get my underwear and shorts on and climb the concrete steps where I find a park ranger laughing with Chuck and Bryce.
The park ranger pulled up his car to me with his window down while I loaded the back of Bryce’s car with my dirty clothes and toiletries.
“I tell ya,” he began with a chuckle, “At first I thought there was an albino bear crawling the wall, then I realized it was the palest bare ass I’ve ever seen!”
“Sorry, I just desperately needed a bath before heading into town,” I sheepishly responded.
“Oh don't worry about it. But seriously… get that rump tanned or at least paninted,” he responds, flaming my very being.
After a brief car ride through to the Sugarlands ranger station, we entered the tourist hamlet of Gatlinburg, TN. We parked the car in a pay lot provided by a clunky gas station and proceeded to walk the streets of America’s most prodigious tourist trap.
In a rustic looking wooden building, Smokey Mountain Brewery rests right off of the Smokey Mountain Parkway where the smell of commerce and BBQ is as thick in the air as the fog that gives the Smokies its namesake. As soon as we stepped into the brewery our faculties were overwhelmed by the smell of delicious pizza… three days of hotdogs and chili sent me into an aroma nirvana.
The brewery is a restaurant style sit down venue where the first floor serves strictly as a place to sit down and guzzle beer and consume pizza and the second floor is where the bar and and where the magic happens… beer magic that is.
I’m not going to lie, the setup of the brewery immediately reminded me of the previous brewery we visited, the one that resembles an Applebees in the mountains. However, as soon as we sat down we were welcomed and given beer menus. Great service and a smile is always a plus in my book.
Opened in 1996, Smokey Mountain Brewery is the oldest brewery in Eastern Tennessee. It’s a very popular place, packed at noon, but it wasn't always this way. Apparently when the brewery opened, people weren't too keen on craft beers, demanding Coors and Buds without a look at the carefully crafted brews. But as soon as visitors tasted the brews, they began to flock to them.
Smokey Mountain Brewery offers nine beers, all delicious looking, and better yet, they have flights! The beer list appeared on a laminated sheet with the beer names listed along with brief descriptions for the novice and veteran beer drinker alike.
My first flight consisted of “Appalachian Pale Ale”, “SMB Helles”, “Peach Cream”, and “Mountain Light”. Appalachian Pale Ale is an American Pale Ale displaying a canary color and an enticing hoppy smell. It’s light and crispy, starting with a muted citrus flavor and ends with a punchy bitterness. SMB Helles is a Munich Light Lager showing a bumblebee color, supreme clarity, and neutral smell. Very crispy and bready to start with a great final balance.
Peach Cream is a Cream Ale showcasing a lemon color and a creamy and sweet scent. It's light and crispy starting with a creamy sweetness and ending peachy and tasty. Mountain Light is an American Light Lager parading a yellow color with great clarity and the smell of bud lite. It's light and crispy, this is an outside football watching beer, knocking back one after the other and cheering for the home team.
Stepping out for a quick dart break, I walked over the garage housing the fermenting vats and reflected upon the process. The science, the art, the passion, and the love. All in one place. All to create happiness for people.
I want to be a part of this. Not just a customer, not just a patron, but a creator and server. This is my goal.
My second flight flowed with “Cherokee Red Ale”, “SMB IPA”, “Black Bear Ale”, “Dark Ale”, and “Brewmaster Special”. Cherokee Red Ale is an Irish Style Amber Ale revealing a lovely tiger color and a slight malty and sweet smell. It’s sweet and malty to start with a slight fruity finish. “SMB IPA” is an IPA intimating a butterscotch color with a piney and floral fragrance. Its honey malt is forward and the hoppiness hits last and steady.
Black Bear Ale is an English Style Brown Ale exhibiting a deep amber color and a sweet malt musk. It’s airy and light to start with a deep malt sweetness that follows. Dark Ale is a Porter unveiling a tawny color with a sweet and spicy aroma. It’s ight for a porter, starts malty and ends with a sweet chocolaty pop. The Brewmaster Special is a Stout presenting a deep brunette color, almost opaque, with a smoky fragrance. It’s sweet to start with a very smoky finish, almost like the maly was smoked before being put in the vat.
Opened daily 11am to midnight, Smokey Mountain Brewery offers a wonderful little respite from the burgeoning approach of chain restaurants that has flooded Gatlinburg. A bastion of local food and beverages, Smokey Mountain Brewery offers trivia nights, karaoke nights, and plenty of TVs to sit back, drink a beer, and enjoy watching your hometeam.
Cut through that BBQ and commerce and enjoy the mountain brews.
Piss Pour Performance
By Ian Guevara
I’ve been asked several times by several of our avid readers if I have ever written or will write a negative review about a brewery. To be honest, I haven't really come across any brewery that I genuinely dislike.
I didn't start this blog to be a critic or to act as some yelp-like gatekeeper of breweries and beer. I do this purely out of joy and to have fun. Sure I would love to make a living off of this (you all could send me more money! I kid, I kid) and I do daydream of the possibilities, but often I have to remind myself to stay grounded in reality.
However, occasionally I do run across a brewery so bad and so atrocious, that I’m bereft of any positive notes on which to hone in. Native American Brewing Company is such a brewery that literally left a bad taste in my mouth.
It’s been a week since I left Asheville. I returned to Bryson City and spent the week falling into a solid little routine of exercising daily in the morning, eating lunch in town, sitting in one of the three coffee shops, and writing as much as I could. It was rather enjoyable.
I made Nantahala Brewing Company my pseudo home bar as I made friends with one of the bartenders, Brock. Every evening after writing a story and before heading back to Deep Creek Campground, I stopped at Nantahala Brewing and downed a beer or two and chatted with Brock and the other bartenders.
By midweek, Chuck and his son Bryce joined me. Old friends from the New Orleans area, Chuck and his family over the past few years have become one of my rotating summer camping companions. We spend the latter half of the week tubing on Deep Creek, whitewater kayaking, and hiking around the park.
On the final day we packed up the campsite and began our journey to Elkmont Campground on the other side of the Smokies not far from Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I was excited. After a little respite from reviewing breweries I now had three more to which to look forward.
Heading up Highway 441, we cruise through the Cherokee reservation. I was looking forward to visiting Native American Brewing Company. It’s a practically brand new brewery, however I could not find any information about when the brewery opened or how long they’ve been operating. Infact, I couldn’t get much of anything at Native American Brewing Company.
This was quite possibly the most miserable experience I’ve ever had at a brewery.
If there is any indication of how poor my experience is, all you have to do is look at my notes. Nearly 40 pages of notes fill up a legal pad. Nearly every page is covered from top to bottom with observations, quotes, story ideas, and general information on the breweries I visit.
On Native American Brewing Company’s dedicated page, the notes are sparse:
“Tourist Trap”
“Native American Applebees”
“Not intimate, not organized, just very impersonal”
“Seems like this place was built solely to take money from tourists”
Those are not flattering notes. When I tell you this place was awful, I mean it. When we walked in at noon on a Friday, it was empty. Not a good sign. The restaurant is rather large with a massive and pretty outdoor area. But as we sat at the bar, something felt off. Then I realized it, there were at least 15 staff members in the restaurant, which is empty by the way, and at no point in the first five minutes of us sitting at the bar were we ever greeted.
Most of the servers were very young, late highschool early college, and they were either chatting with each other or on their phones. Another bad sign. The other older staff members just zipped back and forth across the restaurant space for seemingly no reason. They neither possessed food to run nor pads for taking orders.
Ten minutes passed. How does a manager look at four people sitting at a bar, twiddling their thumbs and not greet us or send a server or bartender to greet us?
Fifteen minutes passed. Finally the bartender, who was maybe late for work or in the back of the restaurant doing God knows what arrived. I was happy they had flights and asked for a menu to take a look at the options.
“We don't have any beer menus,” she answers, “but all the beers are posted on the board.”
One of those liquid chalk boards lit up from behind displays the beers written in some form of letter from the phonecian alphabet.
“What can you tell me about Smoke Signals?” I asked.
“Huh, well… I don't really drink beer, so I couldn't really tell you. Sorry.” At least she apologized for her incompetence.
This place sucks, I said to myself.
I should have just gotten up and left, but Chuck and I were thirsty for a beer before we traversed the stretch of Highway 441 that winds through the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Bryce orders some potato skins as a snack… this place is absolutely the Cherokee Reservation’s Applebees. In an empty restaurant with nearly fifteen front of house employees and what sounded like an active kitchen, it took nearly half an hour for six potato skins to make it out of the kitchen.
I don’t even bother trying to start a conversation with the bartender or asking about the history of the brewery. The employees here seem uninterested and I can assume know very little about the history of this place. The beers most certainly reflect this lack of attention and care. Not one beer was particularly good and some were downright terrible.
At least this place has creative names for its beers.
My first flight was filled with “Smoky Mountain”, “The Warrior”, “Woven Walnut”, and “Sunrise Hard Vanilla”. Smokey Mountain is a Golden Ale displaying a dandelion color and a bready aroma. It possesses a light malt sweetness with a somewhat balanced finish. The Warrior is a Blonde Ale showing a bumblebee color with a neutral scent. It’s light and airy to start, finishing slightly hoppy.
Woven Walnut is a Walnut Stout revealing an umber color with a roasted malt aroma. It’s rather light for a stout, starting with an overly sweet maltiness and finishing with a roasted caramel flavor. Sunrise Hard Vanilla was vile. A Cream Ale manifesting a daffodil color with a cream soda smell, Sunrise is incredibly sweet, but to the point that it's not even a beer. The vanilla flavor is too much here and tastes synthetic.
My second flight flowed with “Flaming Arrow”, “Smoke Signals”, and “Native Girl”. Flaming Arrow is an IPA exhibiting a straw color with a sweet and hoppy smell. It’s light and bitter throughout with a sweetness to balance the bitterness. Native Girl is a Pale Ale conveying a butterscotch color with a piney and floral fragrance. Slightly sweet to start with a splendid hop hit.
The “best” beer of the day was Smoke Signals. A hazy New England Style IPA, Smoke Signals appears with a classic mellow yellow hazy color and a citra smell. It’s fairly juicy and light, possessing a muted bitterness at the end.
Look… just don't go here. I’m not even bothering writing out its business hours, website, or social media accounts. There’s always the possibility that I visited on a bad day, sure, but I don't think that’s the case here. This place just felt like it advertised that it didn't care about its service for products and that it exists just to make money off of the thousands of tourists who visit Cherokee, North Carolina.
Passion and Progress
By Ian Guevara
I’m nearing the end of my trip to North Carolina and my brewery tour. As I walk the quaint streets of downtown Asheville, my southern sensibilities take hold and I immediately begin to chat with random strangers.
Located on Commerce Street, resting beautifully against Eaglenest Creek, Frog Level Brewing Company is a wonderfully large and beautiful brewery serving beers from both Frog Level and its parent company 7 Clans Brewing Company.
Opened in 2011, Frog Level was the first brewery to open in Waynesville. Since then it has flourished and grown. The interior is what every brewery lover wants to see when they enter a brewery. A large bar dominates one side of the tap room with an open and shiny brew laboratory directly adjacent.
I love it when tap rooms are directly in the heart of the operations. It gives you the feeling like you’re dropping in to visit an artist while he creates his masterpieces. Furthermore, Frog Level opens out to a gorgeous creekside venue that I imagine is the toast of the town for music on the weekends.
Frog Level has an interesting story that intertwines it with 7 Clans Brewing Company. Owned and operated by members of the Cherokee tribe, 7 Clans began brewing beer not in its own facility, but rather it rented out fermentation tanks and space at various other breweries in the area.
After producing quality beer at a stellar rate, 7 Clans bought out Frog Level Brewing Company and combined the operations of the two breweries. They still produce separately branded beer, but the breweries' marriage allows them to continuously churn out quality liquid.
I approached the bar to find a friendly face greeting me. I love breweries. I love meeting people who love breweries. I love talking about beer with people who love beer. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, I am writing a blog about my trips to breweries.
I let the bartender know that I need time to game plan my attack on the beer menu and begin to prepare. So many beers, 16 of them, a hodgepodge of Frog Level and 7 Clans brews. Each one of them looks delicious. I don't know where to start. Before I can ask the bartender, he greets another patron, a regular.
“Christopher! How are you doing,” asks the bartender.
“I say my good man, I’m just trying to stave off dehydration,” exclaimed Christopher, a wild haired old man with a wiry build, wide sunglasses, and a massive german shepherd at his side.
Joy erupted inside me. That line, that simple exclamation, was all I needed to cement my appreciation of this brewery.
My first flight was filled with 7 Clans’s “Blonde Ale” and Frog Level’s “Blood Orange”, “Imperial Stout”, and “Salamander Slam”. Blonde Ale is, well, a Blonde Ale possessing a butter color and a balanced floral scent. It’s light, airy, and crispy with a soft bready and sweet start followed by a solid carbonated finish. Blood Orange is a tasty Gose displaying a mellow pineapple color with a tart and fruity aroma. It’s sour and sweet to start with a lovely orange crisp and a balanced salty finish.
The Imperial Stout broods an opaque hickory color with a sweet caramel allure. This beer is thicc with two Cs, starting sweet and malty with a great smooth conclusion. Salamander Slam is a West Coast IPA showcasing a fire color with a sweet and hoppy punch. It’s piney and hoppy from start to finish with a subtle malt end.
Midway through my tasting I was given the opportunity to chat with the head brewer of Frog Level, Matthew. While our conversation was brief, it gave me insight as to why these beers were of exceptional quality. Matthew loves his job and loves beer. That’s pretty obvious, he’s a head brewer, but It’s still delightful to witness the passion and love people have for their jobs.
I also love sharing my own passion for beer. Obviously I do most of it through my writing, but occasionally when I meet a brewer, I like to do more than share my thoughts. I ran back to my truck and dipped into my own beer reserves. Two weeks prior, Jonathan brought me two four packs of Gnarly Barley’s newest Sour and Gose. I grabbed a can of each and brought them over to Mattew, then turned my attention back to the flights.
My second flight flowed with 7 Clans/s “Uktena” and Frog Levels “Frogger Lager”, “Ultra Violet”, and “Bug Eyed”. Uktena is a Double IPA exhibiting a marmalade color and a super hoppy scent. It’s bitter from start to finish with a piney sweetness. Frogger Lager is an American Lager manifesting an almost clear gold with a subtle hop aroma. It’s ULTRA ry and crispy with a balanced and airy beginning and conclusion.
Bug Eyed us a Stout manifesting an opaque chocolate color brew with a vanilla scent. This beer is powerfully coffee forward with a tasty chocolate end. The star of the day was Ultra Violet, a pink guava and mango Sour parading a light daffodil color with a tart aroma. Such a delicious brew. Ultra Voilet is light, crispy, and very sour with a splendid citrus start and airy finish.
Frog Level Brewing Company is open every day Monday through Thursday from 11:30am to 9pm, Friday and Saturday from 11:30am to 10pm, and Sunday from 11:30am to 8pm. The brewery offers a wide array of music on most evenings serenading locals and visitors alike in the brewery's lovely outdoor venue. You can chow down on some great treats as well from Frog Level’s kitchen including oversized pretzels to spicy chicken sandwiches.
On a side note, 7 Clans Brewing recently opened a permanent location in Asheville. I very much look forward to visiting it this winter when I head back to Asheville right after Christmans.
Dr. Bartender or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Brews
By Ian Guavera
A melancholy malaise manifested itself into my soul as I finished packing the last of my belongings from the AirBnB into my truck. I’m leaving Asheville, this beautiful beer Valhalla.
This feeling isn't purely emotional, a tad bit of it is physical, I did just spend five days drinking what I believe is the equivalent to three cases of beer a day. However, I can’t help but feel like I’m leaving a piece of myself in this town… and I don't mean the bundles of hair inexorably shedding from my body in this summer swoon.
No, I feel like I’m leaving a newfound friend. A kinship I never knew I could feel for another city.
But I must be on the road now. And while I’m now on the downhill portion of this trail hoppin journey, I don’t yet have time to exhale. There are still breweries in Western Carolina to visit!
The sun beamed behind me as I drove west, radiating the mountains around Asheville. That melancholy feeling hit me again and I think to myself, I need a beer to process these emotions.
Yeah, I’m definitely not a maniac.
Therapy comes in many forms. There’s not a person alive who’s an impenetrable fortress of emotion and serenity. We all need someone to talk to. A confidante.
Friends and family can help. Clinically trained therapists are probably the best suited. But no one is more well equipped to handle the highs and lows of life for the common man than a bartender.
I mean, the bar probably isn't the best venue to process deep and troubling emotions due to the lack of intimacy of a private setting or, you know, alcohol. Those traumas are definitely the realm of trained therapists. But the little things, those trivial occurrences in life that seem to weigh heavily on a person’s day, are under the purview of the bartender.
Who helps you work through those little arguments with the spouse? The bartender. Who gives you perspective after a hard day at work? The bartender. Who helps you work through cheesy pickup lines for the girl at the other end of the bar? The bartender. Who lends you a smoke, or a light, or a quarter to play that one song on the jukebox to ease the soul? The bartender.
Now, in my late thirties, I don't find myself cozying to the local watering hole like I used to. Sure I still make sure to visit a bar or two on the weekend, but the pressures of fitness, health, a career, and a body that doesn't quite recover as well as it used to make it all the more difficult to make a bar home.
There was a time in my adult youth that I did call a bar home. It was splendidly the worst and best place to be all at once. Tarpon Joe’s Bar and Grill.
Gross would be a kind description for Tarpon Joe’s but it was a home for many of my degenerate youthful behaviors. The patrons at Tarpon Joe’s were a hodgepodge of twenty-something binge drinkers seeking pool, darts, and cheap beer and middle-aged drunks feasting on Miller Lites, pizza, and making lewd comments toward random women.
At the bar were two young men who would shoulder the load of the trivial troubles that try men’s souls: Billy and Jonathan. Yes, the same Jonathan who joins me on many of my beer adventures and who labors editing and posting my stories on this very website.
For all intents and purposes, Billy and Jonathan were excellent bartenders. They were attentive, charismatic, and always ready with a caustic quip to humble you if you got out of hand. There are too many stories about Tarpon Joe’s to share, a book could be written on the regulars alone, but the point here is that their skills as bartenders is the template from which I judge every bartender I come across.
Lindsy and Lisa at Boojum Brewing Company fit that mold and helped me reset and get out of the little funk I felt after leaving Asheville.
I got lost driving into Waynesville, which just added to my increasingly growing foul mood. And while the downton strip of this scenic town was beautiful to drive through, I began to feel like brewery reviewing was becoming a chore.
I parked off Main Street and made my way to Boojum. Opened in 2015, Boojum Brewing Company is located on Main Street in sunny Waynesville, North Carolina. You can’t miss it. The brewery front shines a royal blue banner, advertising its location to the heavens.
It’s a family operated joint that started off simply with a home-brewing kit. The owners are originally from the Florida Keys and would spend their summers in the lush Appalachians drinking beers and enjoying the mountain life… much like me!... except tremendously wealthier.
Each brewery is different. Some are cavernous industrial garages with tap rooms. Some resemble sit-down restaurants with lovely wood floors and classy modern art. Some are a mix between the industrial and the refined. Boojum is more of a sit down restaurant. It houses a lovely and large dining area and an equally large bar, but it was a rather splendid day and I chose the outside bar. I chose wisely.
And there I met a duo of bartenders whose conversation, humor, and hospitality dragged me out of my malaise and right back into the excitement of my journey. Lindsy and Lisa were excited to see me, and they didn't even know me (which I’m sure if I stayed longer that opinion would have changed). Yet they were curious about my journey, asked me where I visited, where I'm going next, and generally made me feel as if I was at home. The mark of good bartenders.
What’s more, they knew their beer. Which is surprisingly something that I found to be a 50-50 roulette after visiting over 50+ breweries. Lindsy and Lisa helped me pick the right eight beers for my review, and they were all splendid choices.
My first flight consisted of “King of the Mountain”, “Boojum Lite”, “Passionfruit Guava”, and “Oak Aged Onyx”. King of the Mountain is a Double IPA displaying a tiger color with a wicked hoppy pop. It’s CRAZY hoppy with a nice sweet undertone that follows. Boojum Lite is a Lite American Lager showing a beer pong color with great clarity and balanced aroma. It’s light and crispy with neutral flavors and no weaknesses. Rounds. Rounds and rounds of beer pong and flip cup. If this isn't the favorite beer of local universities, these kids are uneducated swine.
Passionfruit Guava is a Gose revealing a bumblebee color and a tropical fragrance. This beer is tarty from start to finish with a subtle fruity finish and a nice salty aftertaste. Oak Aged Onyx is an Imperial Stout manifesting a deep pecan color complimenting a vanilla and oaky scent. It has a subtle sweetness to start that’s almost fruity, with a slight coffee bitterness to balance the malty stout.
My second flight flowed with “Get Off My Cloud”, “Mimosa”, “Balsam”, and “Hideout”. Get Off My Cloud is a New England-Style IPA expressing a classic mellow yellow with a wonderful hazy pitch and a juicy citra hop smell. It’s hoppy from start to finish, but loaded with a juicy tropical flavor, and a balanced bitterness.
Mimosa is a Gose proclaiming a cloudy pineapple color with a muted fruity tart scent. It’s light and tart with a balanced citrus and saltiness that's astounding. Well crafted, reminds me of... brunch... hence mimosa. Balsam is a Brown Ale manifesting a bronze color with a sweet and subtle malty smell. Balsam is roasty and sweet to start with a smooth nutty finish.
The beer of the day was the Hideout, a frisky Pilsner parading a straw color with great clarity and a slight hop aroma. It’s incredibly crisp and dry making this a classic dad beer and one for any outdoor excursion. I want to take this tubing, desperately. Hideout would be my tubing companion in perpetuity!
Boojum Brewing Company is closed on Monday and Tuesday and open Wednesday through Saturday from 5pm to 1am and Sunday noon to 9pm. Boojum offers an extensive menu of tasty treats from beer pretzels, to burgers, to quesadillas. The venue also provides open mic nights and karaoke throughout the week.
Bartenders are not a dime a dozen, they can change your day for the better.
Big Screen Brews
By Ian Guevara
We live in a realm cursed by instant gratification.
Movies, tv shows, pretty much everything filmed is at the touch of a finger and pulled up on any application on your phone or tv.
Over the last five years I have watched only one set of DVDs. That’s 70s Show. Other than that, my collection of nearly 300 plus DVDs and Blu Rays remains covered in dust like relics from a bygone era.
Yet even those are a new technology to me. They still belong categorized in the monolith of instant gratification. Both streaming and DVDs allow you to pause, rewind, restart, fastforward, and listen to 176 different kinds of commentary from the director of the movie to the guy who held the boom mic for three minutes while the normal sound recordist stepped out for a quick run to the john.
My patience and love of film and its craft was forged by the black magnetic tape that filled the black rhombus called the VHS tape.
You had to rewind… REWIND… think about that for a minute.
When's the last time you rewinded something? I’m not talking about rewinding a scene on the most recent episode of She-Hulk Attorney at Law because you were too busy reading the wikipedia article about the career of Tatiana Maslany. No, I’m referring to the four minute buzzing of a rectangular black box sitting below a tube television with the wrong time displayed.
How unsatisfying was it to slip that VHS tape out of the cardboard cover, plug it into the VHS player only to see the credits of the movie playing and deal with the revelation that you will have to sit patiently waiting for that big click sound announcing the movie is ready to be viewed.
We are cursed by instant gratification. I can't recall a single moment since the streaming era started that I didn't lose my mind at the slightest sign of buffering. Buffering. I’m irrationally getting angry because a movie that I don't have in my physical possession dares to stop for a second to reload so my eyes may view its splendor in 4K. Seriously, like a petulant child.
Yet just a quarter century ago, I would just hit the rewind button and walk into the kitchen and pop some popcorn over the stove top… Jesus CHRIST I’m dating myself.
There were four movies in particular I always remembered to be kind and rewind after watching: the Indiana Jones Trilogy and Jurassic Park.
I’m not one to be easily frightened… LET ME FINISH… pay no attention to the articles about Pennywise and the Flukeman… I’m not one to be easily frightened by DINOSAURS. Seriously, you have to let me finish my thoughts. But that raptor scene in the kitchen still makes my heart race.
My earliest memory of watching a movie in the theater is from 1993 when my mom took me to see some dinosaur movie at the jenky Lakeside Mall theater. I loved that movie from beginning to end (save that raptor scene).
I purchased the VHS from a display at the very front of a Harry’s ACE Hardware store on the corner of Bienville and Carrolton in Mid City New Orleans. It was 1994, the world was so innocent to an eight year old’s eyes. Hardware stores sold VHS tapes, Blockbusters were more frequently seen than a Starbucks, and the internet was just something Al Gore talked about.
The neatly stacked sleek black cardboard boxes shone under the neon lights of our friendly neighborhood Harry’s Ace Hardware store. I couldn't resist it. I stirred up a scene of begging that would make Oliver Twist blush. So many “pleases” were uttered in five minutes, the word considered retirement. I even bargained. I promised to clean the dishes, clean the yard, clean my room, clean the house, take out the trash, you name it I used it as a chip on the gaming table. And I had NO intention of honoring said promises.
And I succeeded.
The movie was purchased for me and before we could leave the store, I fished out the tape from the bags filled with nails and spackle, and hugged it like a newly adopted pet.
I watched that Jurassic Park VHS tape so many times that I wore it out. As soon as the last episode of Animaniacs aired on Saturday morning, Jurassic Park found itself stuffed into the VHS player with great haste and wanton savagery. I watched the movie with steadfast eyes and seared each scene and quote into my mind, brainwashed by the chaotic quips of Jeff Goldblum and the angry tones of Samuel L Jackson spoken through an impossibly lit cigarette.
As soon as the movie ended, I slapped that rewind button, and watched it again, reenacting the scenes with the bevy of Jurassic Park toys and action figures. All of the quotes were present in my Shakespearan level performances.
“SHOOOOT HEERR!”
“Don't go cheap on me Dodgson, that was Hammond’s mistake.”
“Welcome to Jurassic Park”
“Life finds a way”
“Hold on to your buts?”
“Boy, do I hate being right all the time.”
“No we can't… we’re being hunted.”
“Clever girl.”
“He left us… HE LEFT US.”
I wore out the tape to the point that just four short years later it had to be thrown away from overuse.
It’s my last day in Asheville and I just walked into my last brewery in Asheville. The realm of nostalgia and comfort oozes from Eurisko, a feeling of plushness like a silky and puffy Lazy Boy recliner.
Tucked away on Short Coxe Avenue in the South Slope of Asheville, Eurisko Beer Company opened in 2018 and has impressed locals and rival brewers alike with its wide array of brews. It was a last minute addition to the brewery tour. Mike, the co-owner of DSSOLVR suggested that I visit Eurisko. He mentioned that it was one of his personally favorite local breweries. It did not disappoint.
I knew I liked the place as soon as I entered. Christmas lights hang from the ceiling, instantly reminding me of Snake and Jakes Christmas Lounge in New Orleans… except much, much, much… MUCH cleaner. It even had a terse bartender who spoke in monosyllabic responses and dismissive brow raises. This place felt like home. Stacks of board games rested in the corner surrounded on all sides by mismatched furniture and seating. Just an excellent place to end my journey.
What instantly struck me was the names of the beers. Many were movie inspired names like “Under the Sycamore Tree” and “He Left Us.” Yup, that’s the name that sent me into the land of comfort and nostalgia.
“The brewer must be a cinephile,” I cheerfully asked the bartender.
“I-uh-no,” he responded with an incredulous look as if I disturned him from a life-altering, introspective meditation.
I took a quick peer to the right and spotted a metallic 3D Jurassic Park logo hanging on the wall.
“Oh that HAS to be it, ‘He Left Us’ is a line from Jurassic Park,” I explained, still excited by the nostalgia.
“If you say so. You gonna order something?” The bartender quipped.
“Yeah. A decent conversation. Did I offend you or something?” Is what I imagined saying to this dude who is seriously attempting to corrupt my chi.
Instead I just excused myself for a moment and gameplaned. Eurisko doesn’t provide flights for sampling, but does offer half pours. After carefully examining the selection of brews, I choose five to roll with: the “PLZ”, “Under the Sycamore Tree”, “He Left Us”, “Blueberry Lemon Zest”, and “Wrong Side of the River”.
PLZ is a pilsner displaying a classic pils gold color that’s crystal clear with a bready and hoppy smell. It’s super dry and crisp, starting slightly sweet with a muted hoppiness to follow. Perfect outdoor beer, which I take advantage of and step outside to the brewery’s outdoor seating area. Small, but intimate, it served as a perfect spot to evade the accusatory glare of the bartender, rip a dart, and soak in the final rays of the afternoon sun in Asheville.
I reentered the tap room, sat down, and sampled Under the Sycamore Tree, a Saison showcasing an old gold color with a flora, earthy, and spicy hint. The lemongrass hits from start to finish with the crispness of the cucumber sustaining as well. Under the Sycamore Tree leaves a lasting earthy taste that's rather pleasant and refreshing.
“I love the crispness of that Saison. What brings that spicy smell to the forefront?” I asked the bartender. At this point, I’m only doing this to make this interaction more awkward for my own entertainment.
“I-uh-no… what are you getting next?” He tersely asked. At least he added “next”.
He Left Us is a New England Style IPA revealing a funky hazy yellow with a citrus and hoppy fragrance. Jurassic Park inspired so you KNOW I went for it! This beer is JUICY, and tropical to start with a splendid balanced bitterness. Wrong Side of the River is another New England Style IPA intimating the typical mellow yellow color and haze with a classic citra and hoppy scent. It's hoppy from start to finish, juicy in the beginning and bitter to end.
The beer of the day for me was the Blueberry Lemon Zest, a Philly Sour parading a ruby color with berry aroma. It’s crisp and subtlety tart with a berry and zesty start and a smooth vanilla finish. Never had a smooth sour before... intriguing and fascinating simultaneously. Probably the reason why I was so drawn to it.
Eurisko Beer Company is open Monday through Thursday from 2pm to 9pm, Friday from 2pm to 10pm, Saturday from noon to 10pm, and Sunday from noon to 9pm. Eurisko offers various little events like film showings (yet another clue to the name of their beers), various release day events, and Oktoberfest activities.
Rewind that tape and keep that barboard box crips like a good beer from Eurisko.
Sorry We’re Closed… Sort of
By Ian Guevara
“Somebody is having a bad day,” a disheveled homeless man uttered to me as he lurched past me on the sidewalk.
That somebody was not me. Not by any means. My time in Asheville is coming to a close and while a sense of melancholy slowly creeps in the back of my mind, a smile still wraps around my face as if it’s still my first day in this incredible beer Valhalla.
That somebody was a poor denizen of Asheville who decided that the best parking spot for her hatchback was in the window of a bodega off College St. However small and quaint Asheville’s downtown area may be, the hazards of city life are inescapable. As inescapable as my truck is now because the whole street is closed down as the fire department attempts the near surgical operation of removing a car from a store front.
So I’m on foot, and thankfully my next brewery is close by, within walking distance.
I followed the maps app on my phone and found a beautiful brick three story building with a wide open door and stairway leading up to the heavens. I climbed the three stories to a beautiful bar that opens up to a balcony with a lovely view of downtown Ashevlle.
Something immediately strikes me as odd: I don't see any taps, only bottles of liquor.
I snatched a beverage menu and reviewed its libations. Cocktails. Only cocktails. “The Top of the Monk” cocktail bar.
“Excuse me,” I paused for dramatic effect because I’m already rather tipsy and feeling puckish, “this is the oddest looking brewery I’ve visited so far.”
“Oh, yes sir, this is the cocktail bar. The brewery is downstairs,” the well-dressed bartender responded.
I walk downstairs and utter some rather interesting expletives under my breath toward the bartender upstairs for burying the lead.
Closed. A piece of paper with a message printed hastily and taped to the window gives me the news. The brewery is closed due to equipment issues. My face showed a great deal of dismay because at that moment, the same homeless man, with his same creaky gait, and same disheveled look passed me up yet again.
“Somebody is having a bad day.”
No sir, I will not be denied some tasty beer. Thankfully the Delirium Bar at the Thirsty Monk is open behind and under the brick building.
Located on Patton Ave, Thirsty Monk’s downtown location isn’t its only spot. There’s a location on Biltmore, I think it’s the original location. But the downtown location is the one I was told by multiple sources to visit. Closed for 15 straight months due to COVID and its complications, Thirsty Monk is coming back… aside from today it being closed due to technical issues.
But the Delirium Bar is open and it provides some of Thirsty Monk Brewing Company’s beers… only two… but I can still review them and enjoy them.
Normally the brewery provides close to 16 brews on tap, but today there are only two available at Delirium: “Tricky Triple” and “Hazy IPA”.
Tricky Triple is a Belgian Triple displaying a volley amber color and fruity scent. Its soft, grainy, and malty to start with a slightly spicy and citrus flavor that follows.
Hazy IPA is… well… a Hazy New England Style IPA showcasing the classic mellow yellow and hazy characteristics with the citrus and hop smell that nearly every NEIPA possesses. Its a well balanced beer, balancing all the elements of a NEIPA being juicy and tropical to start and balanced hoppy bitterness at the end.
Thirsty Monk Brewing Company, Top of the Monk Cocktail Bar, and Delirium Bar are all closed on Tuesday, but open Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 4pm to 10pm, Friday and Saturday from 12pm to 12:30am, and Sunday from 2pm to 9pm. From top to bottom, you’re getting an experience at Thirsty Monk. Start high and finish below, that’s your best strategy because those stairs coming down the cocktail bar look treacherous after a couple of drinks.
The penance for your sins is four beers and two cocktails, forgiveness comes with inebriation… or is that forgetfulness?
*****
A Sip of the Surreal
By Ian Guevara
My father and I shared a lot of interest, some learned from him and other times purely coincidental. We both loved the band Rush, Nathan’s Coney Island Franks, Southpark, the movie Old School and almost anything science fiction.
My parents were divorced before I reached the age of six, but it wasn't deleterious to my relationship with my dad, nor did I ever see cracks in the relationship between him and my mother. As my mom put it, they loved each other deeply but just couldn't live with each other.
I lived with my mom, but nearly every Sunday was spent at my abuela’s house having dinner with her, my dad, my stepmother, and my two sisters. I truly was, as still am, blessed with a family free from the dysfunction that divorce usually wroughts, manifests, and scars.
On the weekends that I did spend at my father’s downtown New Orleans Magazine St apartment, we would indulge ourselves in tasty takeout from around the neighborhood, and settle in watching science fiction movies and TV shows.
One of my dad’s favorite shows was The X-Files. Dad and I would engross ourselves into the plane of the surreal and allow our imaginations to run free. Sometimes to my own detriment.
I had… and well… still have an overactive imagination. I’ve already divulged my fear of clowns due to watching IT at six years old, so let's just open up that bag of neurosis and talk about another one of the fears I used to have.
Up until middle adolescents I was scared to death of portable toilets and open hole latrines.
And I had The X-Files to blame.
I was eight or nine years old and dad and I finished off a round of takeout from Five Happiness Chinese restaurant. It was a Sunday night, and naturally on a school night, dad let me stay up to watch agents Moulder and Scully battle the monster of the week. At the time most of the themes and intrigue of The X-Files flew right over my head and I just wanted to watch a show about alien abductions and the weird. The episode titled “The Host” was a little too much for me to handle.
The story is your typical X-Files monster of the week story. An amphibious anthropomorphic parasite called the “Flukeman” is pulling innocent bystanders into the sewers and feeding on them all over Newark, New Jersey. If you’ve ever been to Newark, New Jersey this wouldn’t sound like a fictional story about a Russian Radioactive worm and would sound more like everyday life. Eventually the monster is tracked down and captured by Moulder and Scully. They stupidly place it unrestrained in an detainment van where it, get this, kills the agents and escapes.
Now up to this point in watching the episode I was perfectly fine and thoroughly entertained. However, what happened next in the show would haunt me for years and cause me to refuse to use portable toilets and open hole latrines, even if it meant constipation.
The flukeman escapes to a nearby State Park where it crawls into an unoccupied portable toilet. As a sanitation worker pulls up to suction out the portable toilet, the show sets itself to cut away to a commercial break. The camera slowly dissolves to the inside of the portable toilet revealing the flukeman’s horrific visage peering upward.
That shot before the commercial break, that image, it was seared into my young brain. For the next five years I would never look at portable toilets and open hole latrines the same way. For most kids, this really wouldn't cause much discomfort. How often does one ever really use a portable toilet or open hole latrine? Not often unless you grew up a boy scout going to camp where the only toilets available were holes in the ground with toilet seats.
Every time I had to use the restroom I would just see the image of the flukeman peering upward. I would break out into a rapid sweat and just decide that constipation was much more preferable than being sucked into a hole and devoured. Thankfully I got over this little phobia due to necessity, but I’d be lying if I told you I still didnt think about that damn monster every now and then almost thirty years later.
So why this tangent about The X-Files and the surreal. Well because my next brewery on this last day in Asheville is DSSOLVR. As soon as I entered DSSOLVR, absorbed its aesthetic, read its beer names, and paroused its merchandise, the very first thing I thought about was The X-Files and those cherished nights watching science fiction with my dad.
This is what breweries are supposed to do. At least what I believe they are supposed to do. Breweries are supposed to not only provide physical comfort in the form of tasty libations, but also spiritual comfort, whether that be through its interior design, setting, or general vibe. DSSOLVR hits on all of those cylinders.
Just open their website. It's a trip. Their tagline is “Brewed until surreal” and everything about this brewery screams commitment to that mission statement.
Opened in December of 2019 right before the start of the Pandemic, DSSOLVR is nested on Lexington Avenue right in the epicenter of downtown Asheville. As soon as you enter the brewery you smell the process! The vats of carefully crafted brews are front and center at the entrance. Brewers hustle back and forth, pouring hops, boiling malt, and taste testing liquid with determination and precision.
As I approached the bar I pulled out my “cards” (the Trail Hoppin koozies) and started my little pitch to the bartenders. After the pitch I turn to see a fun dog sniffing my leg and his owner, Mike. Mike and I talk about the beer names and the dope artwork that screams surreal on every piece of merchandise. Mike then informs me he designed all the artwork, which of course I find to be an awesome coincidence and we immediately exchange “cards”.
Beer is an artform. Again, another narrative I’ve waxed poetically before, but after 32 of these stories and infinite more to come, I’m going to repeat these themes and narratives. I can't help it because they are the truth. Not just my truths, but the true reason why I appreciate craft beer. It's wonderfully edible art. Just art with a different medium. Each batch is its own painting, its own mosaic, a canvass filled with carefully crafted stories. The ingredients are the medium, the hops and the malts, they’re the acrylics and oils.
So this mixture of liquid art and digital art at DSSOLVR just enraptured me. If I lived in Asheville, I think this would be my regular spot, my haunt, my home away from home. And I think I would never be disappointed.
Except they too don't provide flights… I guess even the prettiest of ladies have slight defects.
DSSOLVR conveniently organizes its beer menu in categories: Hazy IPAs (FIVE of them), West Coast IPAs (two), Light Side (four), Cask (two), Hard Seltzer (one), Slushies (two), Surreal Sours (SIX of them), Funk Sour/Cider (two), Dark (four), and Non Alcoholic (who cares?).
This categorization made it a little easy for me as I decided to try one beer from each category that matters, you know, the ones that aren't seltzers, slushies, or non-alcoholic. Resigned to the fate of drinking half-pours I dive right into the surreal and care not if I make it sane.
My first set of pours consisted of “Uppercuts and Laser Tag”, “The Hustle is Brutal”, and “Thank You for Existing”. Uppercuts and Laser Tag is a Double Dry Hopped New England Style IPA displaying the classic mellow yellow color floral fragrance and citra pop. Very hoppy and juicy, Uppercuts and Laser Tag starts off with a flutter of floral hints and a nice bitter hit at the end.
The Hustle is Brutal is a West Coast IPA hopped with a cornucopia of ingredients consisting of Michigan Centennial Chinook hops, Cashmere hops, Michigan Copper hops, and Columbus Cryo hops. I honestly have no idea what these hops are and what they bring to the table other than straight up flavor and taste. The Hustle is Brutal shows a marmalade color with an interesting copper and floral scent. Its sweet and piney to start followed by a lasting hoppy bitterness.
Thank you for Existing is an unfiltered Kolsch revealing a Hazy straw color with a sweet slightly fruit smell. It’s light, crispy, and well crafted from start to finish with a muted sweetness at the end. Brews like this, different takes on classic beers, is what drives me to taste every single craft beer I possibly can.
As I walked back to the massive L-shaped bar that defines the beauty of the tap room, the bartender nodded at me with a wry grin.
“What’d you think of Mike,” he asked.
“Pretty cool dude. I dig his artwork, its awesome the graphic designer is down to chat about his artwork and hang around,” I answered.
“Oh Mike? He’s one of the owners,” he added.
How cool is that? I think that says a lot about the man. We chatted for a good bit, mostly about his artwork, my beer journey, and some of the trippy beer names and not once did he mention he was one of the owners. That mild-mannered friendliness and affability just made DSSOLVR even more endearing to me.
My second set of pours were filled with “Put it on a Pedestal”, “Absolutely Aliens”, and “Defy the Paradox”. Put if on a Pedestal is an English Mild reveals a Spice color and a very sweet and malty scent. It’s malty and smooth from start to finish with a nice caramel end for comfort. What made this brew intriguing to me was that it was served at cask temp, giving the vibes of an authentic old English pub beer.
Absolutely Aliens is a 30 month barrel-aged Mexican Imperial Stout brewed with poblano peppers, cinnamon, vanilla, and cocoa. Again, art. Absolutely Aliens is deep, dark, and brooding like batman, with a bourbon tinge and chocolate pop to the nose. The brew is chocolaty and smooth, with a smoky bourbon flavor that isn't overpowering, allowing the other flavors to POP. The cinnamon hits first, but it's balanced out with the vanilla and cocoa, all the while the poblano dances on the tongue. This is absolutely an after dinner beverage with a savory dessert.
The star of my selections was hands down Defy the Paradox. Brewed with mango, watermelon, coriander, and Sea Salt this Gose parades a color resembling a tropical smoothie along with a beautiful clarity simultaneously offering a tart and fruity smell. This delightful beer is Lighl, airy, and salty with that coriander making itself present at the end almost savory. I know, I know, I chose a Gose/Sour as my top beer hare, but listen, THIS BEER SLAPS. I was blown away by it and damn near gave it a 14 on my ratings.
DSSOLVR is open Monday through Thursday from 3pm to 10pm, Friday from 1pm to 11pm, and Saturday and Sunday from 11am to 11pm. The brewery offers a revolving list of events like trivia and live music. What’s more, you can just spend a whole day drinking artwork and viewing the merchandise like it's an art museum. The brews are top notch and staff is knowledgeable and friendly making this a destination for any local or visitor.
Enter the surreal. Your body may leave, but your spirit will stay.
No Kids: Half Pints Allowed
By Ian Guevara
There is such a thing as a perfect beer venue. Does it exist? I’m not sure, but Zillicoach is damn near close.
The four consecutive days of relentless beer drinking is beginning to take a toll on this Jerry Garcia look-alike-contestant’s body. What I need right now is to relax, to take it easy, to find zen while still drinking a brew and ripping darts. As much I am enjoying this adventure, the brewery venues begin to all melt together and cease being unique. At this point I just wanted to get this visit overwhith and return back to the Air BnB and catch up on Better Call Saul.
This was my emotional state before my truck lurched over the crest of railroad tracks and my eyes settled upon the Zillicoach Beer Company complex.
There was a bouncer at the gates of the parking lot… ok… but why?
“Do you have any children with you?” the guard asked.
“Uh, no,” I chuckled, “Why?”
“We have to make sure. No children are allowed on the premises,” he answers.
Not that I’ve seen many, if any, children in the breweries I’ve visited on this journey, but there have been a few. And all of the breweries that were loaded with ankle biters and brooding teenagers were ones with large outdoor venues much like Zillicoach.
Don't get me wrong, I don't hate children, I am a middle school teacher after all, but it is nice to have a beer and relax next to a rolling river without hearing the wailing of a child who wants only to watch Cocomelon and drink juice.
I read an article a year or two ago about a restaurant in Germany that forbids children on its premises after 5pm. I immediately wanted to purchase a flight to Rugen, Germany just to give them my American dollars just to eat a dinner in peace.
Zillicoach is not anti-children though, quite the opposite. They only wish to keep kids safe from the stretch of railroad tracks and swiftly rolling French Broad River that hugs the brewery’s perimeter… and the neglectful eye of parents who tend to just let their kids run free like wild animals. The brewery does offer a family day on Sunday’s but that’s the only time you’ll find adolescent humans running around the grassy field of this little slice of heaven.
Yeah… that’s the ticket! I’m not anti-child, I’m anti-parent. Which explains my own reticence to talk to parents as a teacher. I’m really selling myself as a terrible educator… oh well, no one’s reading this anyway.
Opened in 2017 by a former head brewer of Hi-Wire Brewing, Zillicoach Beer Company rests majestically off of Riverside Dr in North Asheville. The tap room and brewing operation sits inside a massive warehouse and is surrounded by an expansive outdoor venue replete with picnic tables, food trucks, a grassy field begging for a blanket, and an awesome view of the French Broad River.
I’m yet again befuddled by the inconsistency of the flight rules in Asheville and North Carolina as a whole. Some places tell me there are laws that prevent breweries from serving more than two beverages at a time, while other places just tell me that they just don't want to clean a hundred some-odd 4oz glasses a day. And yet at the same time, just as many breweries serve flights freely and joyfully.
Zillicoach does not have flights, but they do provide half pours. At this point, I think it is serendipitous. I’m feeling the summer heat wave. The culmination of drinking nearly three cases of beer a day for four consecutive days and the unseasonable heat is hitting me hard. So maybe limiting myself and truly savoring a limited selection of beers is a wise choice.
My half pours consisted of “Keller Pils”, “Smoked Maibock”, “Kolsch”, “IPA”, and “Zinnibier”... truly imaginative names. I don't mean to be snarky, all these beers are fantastically crafted beers, but there is something to be said about the imagination of a brewer and his names for his beers.
Keller Pils is a Pilsner displaying a Hay color with a crackery scent. Light and crisp for DAYS with a sweet bready beginning and a slight hoppy aftertaste. It’s become almost cliche by now that I associate good pilsners with baseball, but it's how I feel and don't you dare invalidate my feelings… this is my blog!
Smoked Maibock is a… Smoked Maibock showing an Old gold color and a deep smoky fragrance. Deep and smoky to start, almost unrelenting, like drinking a cold crisp campfire if that’s even possible. The malt flavor is subdued by the start and its’ balanced to the end.
Kolsch is well… a Kolsch… do you see how this is messing with my carefully crafted format of presenting beer reviews? The Kolsch exhibits a lovely straw color with excellent clarity and a sweet aromatic. Clean, airy, and crisp well balanced from beginning to end, the Kolsch is an excellent beer for the outdoors.
Which is exactly what I did with this pour: I stepped out into the sun and grass and enjoyed the outdoors. Thankfully my truck is still packed with all my camping equipment. Not missing a chance to showcase my Saints football fandom, I grabbed my trusty tailgating lounge chair, and with my beer and freshly lit dart, sat on the banks of the French Broad River and watched the afternoon sun sink behind the mountains.
As I sat along the bank, the cool air rolled in, drying my sweaty brow, mellowing me out, and providing for me a second wind! It was invigorating. This was exactly what I needed to conquer the rest of this leg of my beer journey. With four more breweries over the next two days, I found the little slice of nirvana to help me along the way.
IPA is an India Pale Ale (Jesus I sound like I’m explaining beer to an alien right now) parading Stunning dandelion color and a piney hop smell. Classic West Coast IPA with a delicious sweetness to start and hop finish. Ok... yeah... I love IPAs now. I never really thought this day would come. I was convinced that the past three weeks I was just lying to myself in order to sound more unbiased. But it's true, the more I drink them, the more I’m beginning to enjoy IPAs.
My final pour consisted of Zinnibier, a Brett Ale revealing a lovely lemon libation possessing a tart smell. It’s funky, fruity, and tarty. A tasty Brett that explores the complexities of the berry flavor and light tarty berries. I’m really digging this beer and this new foray into Brett Ales. I never tasted one until I reached Asheville and everyone I’ve tasted has been delightful.
Zillicoach Beer Company is open Monday through Thursday from 2pm to 10pm, Friday and Saturday from noon to 10pm, and Sunday from noon to 8pm. With it’s great brews, grassy pasture, river views, and food trucks you’ll be hard-pressed to find a nicer place to kick back and relax.
Put up your feet, find your second wind, and let the sounds of nature take you.
Frights and Flights
By Ian Guevara
I have a secret to share with you: I’m scared to death of clowns.
Don't get me wrong, I’m not afraid of the Joker or other clown inspired comic characters. There’s a difference between your average clown and some guy poorly cosplaying as Heath Ledger. No, I’m talking about circus clowns. The kind with painted faces, little hats, bright colored hair, and seltzer bottles… probably another reason why I stay clear of all seltzers.
I’ve never been to the circus and I have no aspirations to ever attend one. Thankfully the circus is dying out, maybe its extinction will take clowns with it.
I have Tim Curry and Stephen King to blame.
I was a mere lad of six years old. I spent the weekend with my grandparents, being spoiled in classic ways of grandchild spoiling. A trip to Toy’R’Us, a McDonalds Happy Meal, a large bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, and best of all, no bath or bed time. Literally the perfect weekend to exist for any six year old.
Mr. Groome slipped into his retirement recliner slumber on the recliner. Mr. Groome would fall asleep every night with the SciFi Channel blaring into the wee hours of the morning where he would eventually rouse himself and sleep in his bed until the crack of noon. He perfected this routine over time, only changed by the introduction of the History Channel and later the Military Channel. The house sounded like it was storming the beaches of Iwo Jima at two o’clock in the morning.
After a particularly amusing episode of Quantum Leap where Sam leaps into a chimpanzee destined for the space program, the late night SciFi Channel Saturday feature film began. I had no idea that I would be changed forever sitting one a an oriental carpet on a Saturday night.
IT was the feature presentation. It started off innocently enough: a red balloon, a little boat int the rain, Georgie, a curiously polite clown, and John Ritter. But by the end of the night, I retreated to my bed, wrapped myself in my The Real Ghostbusters blankets, and stared at the ceiling in fright until dawn broke.
I still get shivers thinking of Tim Curry’s Pennywise. He sometimes haunts my dreams, dressed in drag and singing with Meatloaf. There is nothing more frightening than having a cross genre dream where Tim Curry is the star and is weathering leather lingerie and clown makeup.
Upon the next morning, I was apathetic toward the serving of pancakes and sausage. Mr. Groome asked me if I was ok and I told him what I watched the night before. He assured me everything was alright and coaxed me into eating breakfast and taking a nap. That afternoon, when my Mom came to pick me up, Mr. Groome giggled and handed me a balloon before I left.
That old bastard was the master of torture. I miss him.
So yeah, I’ve never been to the circus because of Tim Curry. Even a billboard for these dying platfroms for animal cruelty and exploitation of carnies send me into frightful shivers. Unfortunately this phobia keeps me away from seeing some of the best parts of the circus, the death defying stunts like lion taming, trapeze, and the high wire.
Which brings me my next brewery. I struggled with the decision to add Hi-Wire Brewing to the list of the brew tour. Despite the endless rave reviews, like a nervous tick, I began to imagine red balloons floating and immediately decided not to go. DAMMIT, I’m an adult! I can’t let a thirty year phobia keep me away from delicious beers!
Located in an old warehouse on Hilliard Ave in the South Slope, Hi-Wire Brewing is a lager-centric brewery that doesn't shy away from its niche. Boy does it have A LOT of lagers. Another “Dad Beer” heaven located in the sunny valley of Asheville. The brewery offers a great look into its brewing operations in the back of the warehouse while providing a comfortable and busy tap room.
Opened in 2012 in the heart of the Brewery District of Asheville, Hi-Wire Brewing taps flow with over 20 different tasty brews. The brewery is growing, branching out with seven other locations, six outside of Asheville, and three more to come. One of the locations coming soon will be in Birmingham, which is close to home, so I’m even more excited to now have yet another reason to visit my favorite State Park in Alabama.
Thankfully, Hi-Wire is a venue that provides flights. This is a particularly sour topic with me on this trip. I’ve been a little flustered by the inconsistency of breweries providing flights. I get that it must be a pain in the ass to clean all those little 4oz glasses, but it definitely enhances the enjoyment of beer drinking.
My first flight consisted of “Hi-Wire”, “Lo-Pitch”, “Palo Santo”, and “Paloma”. Hi-Wire is the flagship Lager possessing light gold color and a bready scent. This beer has surprising and stunning clarity for a lager. It’s light and crispy with a mild yeasty flavor from start to finish. Lo-Pitch is a New England Style India Pale Ale displaying a mellow yellow color with that classic hazy IPA look and citra scent. It’s tropical in flavor to start with a pleasant and balanced hoppiness.
Palo Santo is a Rye Lager showcasing a canary color with a striking rye smell like a lovely piece of a perfectly toasted slice of rye bread. It’s light and airy, with a sweet rye flavor to finish. Paloma is a Fruited Tart Ale revealing an old gold color, a tart scent, and crystal clear clarity. It’s fruity to start with a lasting and satisfying tart to finish.
My second flight flowed with “Bed of Nails”, “Pink Lemonade”, “Banquet Table”, and “Simple Brett”. Bed of Nails is a Brown Ale showing a syrup color and a malty sweetness. Roasty and toffee like to start with a light and airy finish. Pink Lemonade is a Session Sour expressing a peachy pink color and a lovely lavender smell. Just like its name describes, it’s pink lemonade sour, sweet and tart to start with a nice muted sour finish.
Banquet Table is a Farmhouse Saison parading a medallion color and a robust earthy aroma. It’s fruity and earthy to start with an absolutely delightful peppery finish leaving you wanting more just to figure out all of its complex notes. Simple Brett is a Brett Ale exhibiting a straw color with a tarty hit on the nostrils. Tasty. The brew is fruity and yeasty with a tartness that's muted by the breadiness of the beer.
Hi-Wire Brewing’s South Slope location is open Monday through Thursday from 3-10pm, Friday from 3pm to 12am, Saturday from noon to midnight, and Sunday from noon to 9pm. You can damn near find a Hi-Wire tap room everywhere in the south… minus Louisiana. The South Slope location offers a litany of activities from trivia to yoga, which explains why this location is a favorite venue for locals.
Avoid the circus and walk the tightrope at Hi-Wire, you won't dream of a better time.
Sublime Suds
By Ian Guevara
It’s a common theme during this stretch of my journey where my body is screaming at me when I wake up. Burdened by the hefty amount of fermented carbohydrates, I’ve made it a near routine to have a full nalgene and a bottle of tylenol resting on my nightstand. Preparation is the only route to survival. I’ve three more full days of Asheville and its hinterlands. Stamina and a second wind have to be around the corner.
Breakfast. Water. Stretch. Water. Exercise. Water. Shower. Water. The feelings of humanity begin to reappear. Next step, the long walk to my next brewery. Sure, I could Uber, but the revelation of consuming nearly 3,000 calories of beer a day drives me to walk off at least some of the delicious suds.
The walk is hefty, a four and a half mile jaunt up and down the rolling bluffs of south Asheville. However hot it may be, however sweaty I may get, the walk is needed. It serves to clear my head and acts as a palate cleanser for my body. Plus I need some lunch, what better way to justify eating a slice of pepperoni pizza than a long hike?
I’ve never been one to shy away from a nice little jaunt, especially when there’s an enjoyable outcome at the finish line.
Before Hurricane Katrina the University of New Orleans boasted an undergraduate enrollment of well over 17,000 students. Student life was full, active, and enjoyable. Even though the university lacked a football team (the status symbol among educational institutions in the South), it still fielded competitive basketball and baseball teams. Only a mile and a half separated the dorms from the Lakefront Arena, just a 25 minute walk.
“So I take that walk” as Bradley Nowell, the frontman for Sublime melodically bellowed in the song 40 Oz. to Freedom. Rather we would take that walk from the dorms to the arena… stopping first at the Shell station for a couple of 40s of Olde English Malt Liquor, then taking that walk.
We called it our, “40 Oz. to Freedom Walk” and would proudly walk up to the ticket counter tossing our empty bottles into the trash, giggling sheepishly like a bunch of morons. It certainly made the competitive, but losing performances of the Privateers to the legions of mediocre Mid-Major schools a little more palatable.
Sublime remains the common theme here, spiritually and musically. Ever since I heard that first Sublime song through my Discman in highschool, I pretty much don't go a day without hearing at least one Sublime song, intentionally or unintentionally. I often ponder what could have been if Bradley Nowell did not succumb to the insidiousness of addiction.
The story of Bradley Nowell is one of genius and tragedy. Growing up in Long Beach, California, Nowell’s family immersed him in music, exposing him to various genres and teaching him to play guitar. With an obsession over reggae fueling his desire to create music, Nowell formed a band with some college friends and began to jam.
After four years of playing in small bar halls, family barbecues, and eventually larger concert halls, Sublime became one of the most popular bands in Southern California. In 1992, the band released 40 Oz. to Freedom, launching the reggae-punk band into cult popularity. Mainstream success still evaded them, but the band still pumped out quality music and improved their skills, preparing to rocket to success.
Unfortunately Nowell passed before the band’s self titled album Sublime, put them on the mainstream airwaves. But I’d like to think that sophomoric rituals like my “40 Oz. to Freedom Walks” were in the spirit or Sublime’s influence. Furthermore, as I walk down the streets of Asheville today, my “shuffle all” seemingly decides to play clips from 40 Oz. to Freedom over and over.
After a long and sweaty walk, I saunter into PIE.ZAA Pizza and crush a slice of pie the size of a catcher’s mitt. It’s like a senzu bean from Dragon Ball Z. The slice of pizza rejuvenates me, heals all my hangover wounds, and keeps me full all day. I walk out the PIE.ZAA refreshed and ready to meet the agenda for the day.
Bhramari Brewing Company is my next stop.
Located on the corner of Lexington and Hilliard Avenues, Bhramari Brewing Company provides a delightful selection of indoor and outdoor seating for any lover of breweries. Snaking beyond the main dining room, sits the open tap room. Dominated by brewers at work side by side towering vats in the background, the tap room offers a sneak peak into the brewery’s operations while remaining comfy enough for a casual conversation around a pint. Beyond the tap room rests a large outdoor seating area with shaded picnic tables.
One look at the menu and my journey here all makes sense. There in plain text is the name of a Whit Bier called “Dropping Science''. And it hits me.
Because he's droppin' droppin' droppin' science
Droppin' history with a whole leap of style and intelligence
Yes, I know
I know because of KRS-one yeah
And I know, and I know
Well that’s part of the lyrics for the song on, you guessed it, 40 Oz. to Freedom. Serendipity. All those Sublime songs to pop on the playlist on my walk. The memory of the journeys to the Lakefront Arena. It was meant to be. This is going to be a great day.
There are no flights here, only half pours, so I adjust my methodology focusing on the first six beers that jump out to me. I selected “Dropping Science”, “Good Fight”, “Lazy Rio”, “Obliterated Mind”, “Perfectly Imperfect”, and “Race Specimen”.
Dropping Science is a Whit Bier infused with toasted coriander, blood orange, and tellicherry peppercorn. It displays a hazy banana color with a citrus and smooth scent. All notes are present as the coriander gives the whit an earthy tone while the citrus and pepper finish the experience.
Good Fight is a Sour IPA… let that resonate for a second… a Sour IPA. I didn't think I'd ever hear of such a thing until I entered Bhramari, and DAMN it’s tasty. Showing an easy pineapple color with a sour and hoppy scent, Good Fight starts off crispy and sour with a neat hoppy bitterness that follows. It’s a paradoxical beer that shouldn't exist, but it does, and it shines!
It’s a common theme so far that I’ve been delighted to find the Mexican Lager flourishing in many of the breweries I’ve ventured into. Bhramari takes the proliferation of the Mexican Lager further with a Mexican Style Vienna Lager called Lazy Rio. Revealing an apricot color with a malty fragrance, Lazy Rio starts with a deep and caramel taste and a wonderfully smooth finish. This beer absolutely pops with the addition of a lime.
Obliterated Mind is a Rauchweizen revealing a Straw color with a banana aroma. After a quick inquiry with the bartender, I was pleased to hear that a Rauchweizen is simply a smoky Hefewiezen. It’s crispy and very smoky from start to finish. Just a different hefeweizen and I'm here for it!
Perfectly Imperfect is a Rauchbier Urbock expressing a salty and savory smell with a deep pecan color. So different. I was afraid to give the poor bartender an ear beating with questions about what exactly a Rauchbier Urbock is, so I went to the trusty google machine. “Rauch” should have jumped out at me after the previous beer. It’s German for “smoke”. Seems to be a common theme here. Perfectly Imperfect is super savory and smoky from the start with an earthy tone to finish. Different. Perfect breakfast beer. I could definitely see myself slugging a pint of this with a hearty Denny’s Grand Slam.
The star of the day was the Race Specimen, an American Sour infused with red currant, parading a tiger color with a nose puckering punch. It possesses a sour pop to start, but the sweetness of the red currant and smokiness of the barrel balances this out almost perfectly. A well crafted brew with little to no flaws.
Bhramari Brewing Company is open Monday through Thursday from 12pm to 9pm, Friday and Saturday from 11am to 11pm, and Sunday from 11am to 9pm. The brewery hosts a number of events like chocolate and beer pairing and an enticing menu from a stellar kitchen. Whether you’re outside under the lovely Asheville skies or inside beside the bar, you’ll find utter satisfaction at every corner.
And the beers here, they’re sublime.
Craft Beers, Koozies, and a Cult
By Ian Guevara
“Yo man, over there, that’s our leader Zachariah,” Jacob, a local gutter-punk stated, pointing into the direction of a lean man sunbathing on an Egyptian carpet under the sun.
What did I just hear? How did I get here? Do I want to meet this cult leader? Have I had too much to drink? Do I need more to drink?
Asheville has officially gotten weird.
I left Green Man Brewing Company with the intention to head over to Archetype Brewing Company. Only a 20 minute walk down Lexington Avenue, I began my walk through the guts of Asheville with wide eyes and a grin.
The city is beautiful.
Inexplicably placed among rolling hills in a shallow valley among the Blue Ridge Mountains, I find myself consistently befuddled by the layout of this city. I now realize how many people visiting New Orleans feel when they look at a map of the city and suffer a slight aneurysm.
Thankfully my walk is a straight shot, and serendipitously I have the privilege of wading through the rapids of Asheville’s culture. Downtown Asheville is where brick and steel meet, melding turn of the century red brick railroad architecture with modern concrete and steel. The combinations create an eclectic and varied skyline, rapturing appreciators of urban landscaping.
It’s hard not to just enter random bars and breweries lying upon my path. The music blaring out of every bar, a mixture of bluegrass, grunge, and rock. Inviting surroundings, neon signs, christmas lights strung on ceilings, and endless taps. Stunning bartenders from far off cities, covered in colorful tattoos and short jeans willing to endure endless conversations from drunk patrons. Beer Valhalla.
I hoofed the crest of Lexington Avenue over the bluff and walked down toward the confluence of Lexington Avenue, Highway 24, and Interstate 240. Under the overpass I noticed my left shoe laces unraveled. The overpass looked like a safe oasis from the berating sun, magnified by the urban sprawl and global warming, and seemed like a good place to tie my shoes.
“What up man, my name is Jacob, do you have any weed?” I look up and find a lithe man in his mid forties, shirtless, wild eyed, gray hair dreaded, and smelling of body odor and cheap liquor. I shook his hand out of sheer nervous politeness. An error in judgment. I was locked into a conversation my Southern gentility would not be able to evade.
“Uh, no man, I don’t do that. But I do like to drink.” I answer, stupidly. I should have just kept walking. I know better. I’ve lived around gutter punks my whole life in New Orleans. Walking around the French Quarter and the Marigney used to put you front and center with this punk subculture. Voluntarily homeless, gutter punks immerse themselves in the panhandling and drug lifestyle, often living off of their trust funds from wealthy elite Northeastern families.
I didn't listen to that little voice in my head. I didn’t walk away.
“Yeah man, I’m on a mission to hit over 30 breweries in five week,” I started to give this dude the sales pitch… Am I really this drunk? Like this guy is barely sober. His eyes are moving faster than Tyreke Hill’s “accidental” backhand.
I hand Jacob my “card,” a koozie emblazoned with the Trail Hoppin symbol and website.
“This is cool man. You got any smokes? Can you buy me a pack of smokes? The Shell station is right around the corner man? You can help me out right?” Jacob spoke so fast I barely understood his words.
“Nah man, I’m out, but If I do go, I’ll hook you up,” I had no intention of doing so, I’m trying to get out of this without being dragged down a weird road.
I look around and realize I’ve been surrounded by 10 more gutter punks. Some holding tall boys, some tattered backpacks, and others holding leashed malnourished muts. If I panic, they’ll smell the blood in the water and will attack with stories about their Indie bands. I must remain calm.
I look up to see a younger gutter punk, clean shaven, dreaded, and wearing a bright clean and unwrinkled Nike performance shirt. His brand new Jordan 1s glimmered in the sun, the red patent leather almost blinding me. He scratches his head and squints his eyes as he steps toward me.
“I heard you’re giving out free weed bro?” He asks.
“Nah man, don't do the stuff,” I answer as his brow furrows and his clean Jordan 1s perform a perfect about face, walking away toward the hovel of other gutter punks. One down, but I remain surrounded by nine more.
“All right now, y'all take it easy,” I say as I try to wiggle myself out of the crowd like a toddler in the middle of a naptime tantrum.
“You’re pretty cool, man,” states Jacob, clasping his grimy hands on my deltoid.
He effortlessly moves me in a 180 degree turn toward a small set of trees looking over the intersection.
“Yo man, over there, that’s our leader Zachariah,” Jacob stated, pointing into the direction of a lean man sunbathing on an Egyptian carpet under the sun.
At this moment I found the distant instincts of fear and flight begin to swell within me. Before you could say “Helter Skelter” I launched through a small crack in the line of gutter punks like Alvin Kamara finding daylight among linemen, and beelined toward Archetype Brewing Company.
With the cult gathering behind me, I walked up Broadway Street with extreme vigor finding the location of the brewery. It was closed. CLOSED. I walked through booby traps more dangerous than the Amazon temple in Raiders of the Lost Ark just to find my destination defying god and its google schedule. What to do? Where to go?
The previous day, after suffering through a hangover and completing my brewery visits, I wandered around the streets of South Asheville. After getting turned around several times, I pulled out Apple Maps and found my route home. Upon that mini journey, I passed a brewery that was not on my original list. So after being denied Archetype, I decided to pivot and call an Uber… I’m not walking back under the overpass.
Opened in 2001 making it one of the early breweries to make its mark in Asheville, French Broad River Brewery is a sizable brewery located not far from Biltmore Village on Fairview Road. The tap room is quite large, offering space for multiple tables and a stage for live music. Outside the brewery provides seating under cover or out by the creek. French Broad River provides over 15 brews all colorful, consistent, and tasty.
My first flight flowed with “Goldenrod”, “River’s Mist”, “Spring Forward”, and “Nitro Cherry”. Goldenrod is a Pilsner displaying a lovely gold color and a bready and hoppy scent. It’s light and crispy with a subtle sweet start and muted hoppy finish. When sipping this beer my mind immediately floods with sports… lawn care… Dad beer. Rivers Mist is a New England Style Hazy IPA showing an old gold color with that classic hop and citra scent, yet not as hazy as one would expect. The hops are STRONG, impeding the taste from start to finish with only a slight juicy flavor.
Spring Forward is a Saison revealing a canary color with a floral and earthy aroma. It’s down to earth like a good grounded friend who doesnt branch out much. It starts off peppery and earthy with a yeasty twist. Nitro Cherry is a Stout appearing in a dark and mysterious umber color inviting curiosity and adventure while also producing a heavy malty sweet smell. It’s light and crispy for a stout starting toffee like and ending with a little chocolate twist.
My second flight produced a lovely rainbow of golds and ambers with “Gateway”, “Redman”, “13 Rebels”, and “Micha Wee Heavy”. Gateway is a Kolsch expressing a straw color and a muted hop and malt fragrance. It’s light and SUPER crispy, definitely a DAD BEER candidate that’s popping and airy to start followed by a balanced malt and hop taste. Redman is a Session IPA presenting a deep gold color with a slightly citra and heavy hop smell. It possesses a balanced bitterness from start to finish with a lovely citra aftertaste.
Micha Wee Heavy is a Scotch Ale unveiling a slight tawny color and a sweet roasty smell. It’s rich and smooth with a toasty start and a sweet and airy caramel finish. The star of the flights was the 13 Rebels, an ESB English Style Pale Ale. I never in my life thought I would have a bitter ale become the top beer, but here we are. 13 Rebels parades a copper color with a mild balance of hop and malt aroma. It’s malty sweet to start possessing an excellent balanced bitterness making it just a lovely beer.
French Broad River Brewery is open Monday and Tuesday from 1pm to 8pm, Wednesday and Thursday from 1pm to 9pm, and Friday through Sunday from 11am to 9pm. The brewery provides a broad schedule of events weekly including a Grateful Dead cover band called “Jerry’s Dead” that I unfortunately missed out on. If I ever return to Asheville I’m making my way back to see that band.
Kick back, grab a brew, evade a cult, and let your mind relax to the tunes of a jam band. Not a bad day if you ask me.
Address:
French Broad River Brewery
101 Fairview RD # D
Asheville, NC 28803
Social Media:
https://www.frenchbroadbrewery.com/
https://www.facebook.com/FrenchBroadBrewing/
https://www.instagram.com/frenchbroadriverbrewery/
Lagers and Life Lessons
By Ian Guevara
I’ve often waxed poetically about Dad Beers. You know, those lagers, pilsners, and ales that often, but not always, require a pair of New Balance shoes and a collared shirt tucked into jean shorts to drink. Each dad beer I drink brings me closer to the inevitable. The day I become an inhuman conglomeration of all the father’s in my life. No, it won't be time or age. It will be the lagers, pilsners, ales that will do it.
On this particular day, Green Man Brewing Company’s Green Man Lager sends me into the land of nostalgia.
Family vacation trips, particularly family camping trips are sources of a varied array of emotional memories. I was privileged to be a part of many family camping trips, from extended weekend trips to two week jaunts across the south. By the time I was ten, these trips mostly involved the family pop-up Coleman Camper… in which I never once actually slept.
You see, from my young perspective, I was the family mule. I would be required to help set up the camper. Lowering the support arms, leveling the camper precisely ensuring that the floating bubble rests in perfect equilibrium, and pulling out the expansion portions of the camper. I would set up the kitchen inside, puff out the sleeping vestibules, connect the compressor to the butane tank… pretty much everything except tow and park the damn thing.
Never once did I ever sleep in the family camper.
The setup was meticulous and involved Mr. Groom puffing on his Havana Tampa cigar and performing play-by-play of my work like John Madden.
“That’s not level,” he would dryly observe between draws of his cigar.
“Make sure to turn the crank to the right, that way the legs will lower,” just keen observations from the booth.
“That’s not right, what are you missing?” He would ask as if I had a playbook on camper construction in front of me.
I would grab the tent and search for a flat spot to pitch it. Did anyone assist me in setting up my sleeping quarters after I labored preparing theirs? No, I would prepare my musky domicile in the dark, and prepare my slumber on a foam pad and lumpy sleeping bag.
I’m intentionally making this sound terrible. I’m simply remembering this from the perspective of an angsty teenager who had supreme disdain for sweaty labor and yearned to just relax on camping trips… you know, the ones where I slept in a tent and not in a camper.
But that work, labor, and preparation had its purpose. Age and time has a way of properly fermenting lessons provided that were not appreciated when bottled. Setting up camp quickly, the process of putting up the base canopy and storage area, making sure everything is sturdy and ready for inclement weather, and finally setting up the sleeping areas are all hallmarks of camping protocol now ingrained in my soul.
That’s not it though. Helping others set up their camp first, making sure that all people are taken care of so when set up is finished we all get to take a rest and relax together. Paying attention to detail, making sure everything is set up safely, securly, and properly, assessing and reassessing, critiquing your work and making sure that it's finished right. That’s the long lasting lesson learned… except for that teamwork part… I’m still salty about having to set up that musky tent alone in the dark.
These endless preparation, setup, and execution routines are not just isolated to camping and the outdoors. These are the techniques I use and execute for my beer journey. Planning and plotting out the locations and routes and most importantly, preparation and setup. Before I even order, view, smell, or sip a brew I take notes, look at the beer list and prepare my plan of attack. I continually question my observations directly, readdressing them, and either confirming or changing my ideas. Ironically I have to go back to the campsite and sleep in a tent I set up in solitude… How did that old man have the foresite for such things?
Established in 1997, Green Man Brewing Company is one of Asheville’s original breweries nestled in the heart of the South Slope Brewery District on Buxton Avenue. Housed in a massive building towering over three stories with tap rooms located on the first and third floors, Green Man offers over 20 exceptional brews, stunning balcony views, and a comfortable atmosphere to drink beers.
My first flight flowed with “Red Barchetta”, “Too Damn Fine”, “Still the Willow Weeps”, and “Tart Berry”. Obviously the brewer is a Rush fan, Red Barchetta is a Red IPAshowcases a fire color and a clear IPA with hoppy and sweet aromatics. This IPA is a splendid change in pace! It’s piney and sweet to start with a balanced hoppiness to finish, possessing a delightful and slightly caramel-like IPA.
Too Damn Fine is a tasty Pilsner displaying a clear and enticing straw color that just screams crispiness, with a slight hoppy smell. Sports. Sports is all I think when drinking this. It has a sweet start with a slight hoppy finish. A perfect beer for sitting in the stadium and pounding some brews. Still the Willow Weeps is a Baltic Style Porter revealing an umber colored and a sweet malty aroma. It starts smooth and sweet with a malty ending.
My favorite of the day was the last of the first flight. Tart Berry is a Sour parading a deep magenta with a berry sour punch. Tart, tart, tart. Tart Berry starts airy, possessing a berry sweetness with a lovely sour finish. A tasty sour I can sip and enjoy with a raised bougie pinky finger.
My second set of flights were filled with “Trickster”, “Green Man Lager”, “Forester”, and “No Room for Cream”. Trickster is a Tropical IPA revealing a psychedelic yellow with that citra IPA aroma. It’s hoppy from start to finish with a delightful tropical sweetness to balance. Green Man Lager is an American Lager that puts me on “Dad Beer Alert”. Just imagine Captain Jean Luc Picard calling “Red Alert” on the bridge of the Enterprise D, but instead tells Commander Riker to ring “Dad Beer Alert, Number One.” Green Man Lager expresses a classic lager gold color and smell. It’s crispy and neutral flavored. Clearly a member of the dad beer hall of fame making it perfect for the great outdoors... and setting up campers.
Forester is a Stout exhibiting a deep and brooding coffee color with a coffee fragrance. It’s smooth and surprisingly light, starting with a malty sweetness and ends airy with a muted coffee bitterness. No Room for Cream is a Coffee Blonde Ale expressing an old gold color and a delightful coffee smell, reminding me of New Orleans’s own Community Coffee. It’s light and just odd in a good way, like a fresh cup of coffee. No Room for Cream is tasty, sweet and slightly bitter making for a refreshing end to the set of flights.
Green Man Brewing Company is open Sunday through Thursday from Noon to 9pm and Friday and Saturday from Noon 11pm. The brewery provides a consistent lineup of events ranging from Tuesday trivia, “Thirsty Thursdays”, and live music on Friday nights. With a massive venue providing seating on three different floors including a street patio and third floor balcony, Green Man is a lively venue for enjoyment and beer.
Prepare, plot, and follow through with drinking some Dad Beers at Green Man.
Address:
Green Man Brewing Company
23 Buxton Ave
Asheville, NC 28801
Social Media:
https://www.greenmanbrewery.com/
https://www.facebook.com/GreenManBrewing
Intense Brews and Innertubes
By Ian Guevara
“Dudes, we can whitewater in a tube!”
My excitement soared higher than the mountains surrounding us. Western North Carolina was surprisingly busy for lte june 2020 despite the 100th or so wave of Covid running through the country. After a week sleeping in hammocks, and one night in a mildew infested hotel room, Jonathan, Louis, Homelessman and myself rented a tidy little AirBnB in Bryson City, North Carolina.
There's more to do in these small mountain towns than you would think even if you remove such riveting options like flea markets, Santa’s Playland, and beef jerky shops. Hiking to stunning overlooks, rafting down intense rivers, and of course breweries offer endless options for fun. However, it was whitewater tubing that caught my attention.
Less than a 10 minute drive from our AirBnB sat Deep Creek Campground. Filled along Deep Creek Road are various little private campgrounds, cabins, farms, general stores, and tube rental shacks. They cover every inch of the road from Bryson City to the National Park. The road twists and through cleared lands for capitalism, allowing for a full and stunning view of the Smoky Mountains and its misty domains.
Equally stunning is the transition from the gauntlet of outdoor capitalism to public use land. Shop, farm, cabin, general store, tube rental, farm, cabin, tube rental, ice cream… then BOOM deep forested canopies and the splendor of nature.
We were unaware and unprepared for this type of tubing. Back in Louisiana, tubing is an endurance sport. Full days, four to six hours spent searing in the south Louisiana sun, trudging through brown and murky water, unaware of what lies beneath its depths. Professionals rented extra tubes for large speakers and coolers. Cases of beers consumed, the only hydration and defense against the pesky alligator gar, snapping turtles, and unrelenting sun.
In addition, and slightly to the contrary, tubing in Louisiana is also a laid back enterprise. Many participants find that they can only recall the first hour or two of tubing, passing out after shotgunning crispy Natty Lites, and floating down the iver like a line of bloated corpses. They revel in their debauchery, wearing their sun blistered skin as badges of honor.
This is not the case for Deep Creek tubing. No hours spent lazily passing through existence. No deep and turbid water. No worries about toe nipping fauna. And no massive coolers of beer and jumbo sized speaker systems.
Conversely, this tubing requires agility and hand paddling skills. Deep Creek possesses chilly and clear water, no gar of snapping turtles (although a crawfish may pinch you), and no massive coolers… just small ones… you have to have some libations on the river.
Earlier in the day, before setting off for tubing, we hustled over to the thrift store in search of wet-suits. A wet-suit is a thrift store bought suit: shirt, jacket, pants, tie, and all down to the shoes. We didn't all wear a wet-suit. Only Louis was classy enough to traverse the creek in style.
It’s about a mile long traverse uphill to set the tubes in the creek. The first third of the creek is the roughest with three waterfalls and a multitude of rapids all loaded with potential to throw a rider from their tubes and into the icy depths. Most riders will pull out of the creek after the first set of waterfalls and repeat the short walk up the hill on multiple occasions, filling in the void for thrill seekers. We must have run that section five or six times.
As we walked up the trail to the put-in, Louis walked confidently in his brown suit.
“I’m late for a meeting up river,” Louis would say to the chuckles of bystanders looking on inquisitively.
“I’m a traveling cigarette salesman,” he would quickly follow, causing more laughter.
I did not ride without my own accessory. Tied around my neck like I was a member of Public Enemy was a small “waterproof” bluetooth speaker. My cell phone and keys remained in an equally “waterproof” stuff bag. Needless to say, after the first waterfall where I found out what the rocks at the bottom of the creek looked like, the speaker stopped working and my phone would eventually find itself in a jar of rice.
After a couple of runs on the upper portion, we rode the whole route back down to the parking lot for a quick break, a couple of beers, and a snack. Louis immediately toweled off and removed the wet-suit.
“This thing is too heavy. I’m retired from this business.” Louis dryly stated.
One more trip down the river made way for all of our collective retirements from the creek. We retired the tubes to their caged homes and drove back into town stopping at BC Outdoors. The little outdoor shop on the corner of Main Street and Everett Street offered a tap room for us to end our enjoyable day tubing. When we stepped through the doors we discovered not only a quaint tap room, but a massive selection of locally crafted beers from all corners of Western North Carolina.
“What’s this? Innertube Lager!” I excitedly pronounced, thinking that it was an appropriate occasion to drink a beer called “Innertube” after tubing down Deep Creek.
That was my first introduction to Burial Beer Company despite not realizing it off the bat. I did not bother inspecting the can and researching the brewery from where Innertube hailed. How fascinated was I to discover that beer again when I walked through the doors of Burial and studied its tap list.
Deep in the heart of the South Slope Brewery District on Collier Avenue, Burial Beer Company is a trip into that existential world of deep thought and exploration through not just their beers, but the titles of those beers. The brewery rests upon a sizable indoor and outdoor complex with seating inside near the bar or outside among the scores of picnic tables or a van converted into a shaded table and benches.
Opened in 2013 and quickly becoming a favorite among locals, Burial provides over 20 different wonderfully crafted brews with trippy names. You can simply enjoy the company of friends or soak up those suds with an enticing menu from its kitchen. I ordered some fresh trout tacos and almost fell into gluttony considering ordering more, but logic prevailed over my gullet.
Burial does not provide sets of flights, but does allow for customers to partake in their potions in five ounce servings. I’ll still set this up in two sets of four, but I was only able to order two at a time. My first set consisted of “Innertube”, “Billows”, “The Wretched Exile of the Unrepentant”, and “A Functional Assessment of Morality”. Innetube showcases a straw color with excellent clarity and a yeasty smell. It’s light, crispy, airy and biscuit and bready to the end making it a perfect beer to guzzle while floating aimlessly down a creek. Billows is a Kolsch displaying a butter color and a sweet malt and hop aroma. It’s crispy and light, starting with a malt and hop balance and ending with a muted bitterness.
There’s a role playing board game called “Kingdom Death'' where players are born into a world of darkness and survival is only achieved through cooperation and savage barbaric violence. Burial Beer’s beer names reminded me of the Interesting names populating the Kingdom Death, names like Vocal Spidicules, Dung Beetle Baron, Gorm, and Gigalion
The Wretched Exile of the Unrepentant is a coffee, fig, orange zest and Madagascar vanilla bean infused Imperial Stout appearing with a dark mocha color and a sweet chocolate and coffee smell. It's super sweet from start to finish and very rich making this beer more like a desert than a beer. A Functional Assessment of Morality is a West Coast IPA possessing a hazy mellow yellow color with classic citra hop smell. It's bitter from start to end with a delicate tropical flavor hiding in the background.
My second set of beers included “Imperceptible Everything”, “Fall of the Damned”, “Bolo Nitro”, and “Perspectives from the 9th Sense”. Imperceptible Everything exhibits a lovely daffodil color and a pungent floral fragrance. Infused with honey, grains of paradise, and cocoa pulp, this Saison is light and crispy with a sweet honey start, finishing citrus and earthy.
Fall of the Damned is a Bourbon barrel-aged Sour brewed with marionberries and blackberries manifesting a dark ruby color and a smoky sweet berry scent. This beer is absolutely puckering! Its smoky berry flavors hit first followed by that powerful sour punch. Bolo Nitro is a coconut flavored Brown Ale expressing a lovely caramel color with a sweet coconut aroma. It starts sweet with a malty sweetness and finishes with a muted coconut topper.
The star of my selections was far and away Perspectives from the 9th Sense. A supremely delicious Pilsner parading an old gold color and a hoppy fragrance. It’s melon and tropical to start, making for an incredible Pilsner. I’ve never had one like this. Perspective’s bitter finish is minute, being balanced by the citrus. An exceptional Pilsner, this brew just screams to be drunk outside. Kick back, the outside recliner, prop up those feet, and swig down Perspectives and enjoy.
Burial Beer Company is open from Sunday through Thursday from noon to 11pm and Friday and Saturday from noon to 12pm. The brewery offers an excellent and cozy domain to drink beer and down a tasty meal while guzzling some brews. On Saturdays and Sundays, patrons can take a brewery tour that includes educational and beer drinking opportunities.
Float a creek, listen to music, and wear a suit, only thing missing is an Innertube.
Address:
Burial Beer Company
40 Collier Ave.
Asheville, NC 28801
Social Media:
https://www.facebook.com/burialbeer/
Forget the Boots, Grab the Brews
By Ian Guavera
The rain poured in sheets turning the contoured roads of Asheville into a series of slip and slides. I park in the riverside industrial parking lot of my next brewery, New Origin Brewing. Thankfully there’s an overhang in the parking lot, it’s filled. There’s one spot left, allowing for only half of the truck to be protected from the rain… the passenger side half…
I reach behind blindly to the back seat of the truck for my raincoat. Nothing. Only my hiking boots and the six flat brim hats I decided in my vanity to travel with. My hand begins to sweep the area, searching the backseat, performing a line search from one side to the other like I'm volunteers performing a line search through the woods.
Still no raincoat. I’ve not needed it yet on this journey, opting for the red poncho in my gearbox because it’s lighter and I don't sweat as much in it. But the weather is cool, and this rain warrants a little warmth along with protection from precipitation.
Where the hell is it? I ask myself.
I quit the blind search and turned my whole body over to peer into the junkyard that’s become my backseat after three weeks of travel. Two fanny packs, gym bag, hiking boots, hangers, bag of koozies, mini cooler, two dirty t-shirts, two clean t-shirts, wrinkle remover, two books, clothes detergent, bag of quarters, but no raincoat.
Did I leave it in my room back at the house? It’s possible. This isn't the first time I left something important at home on a big trip.
It was the day before we were to begin our 100 mile hike through the New Mexican wilderness at Philmont Scout Ranch. The previous two days were spent road tripping from New Orleans to Cimmaron, a quaint town in the dusty New Mexican interior. Per usual for a big trip like this, the troop made this a family affair.
Loads of cars with moms, dads, grandparents, brothers, and sisters made the move west like pioneers racing to take advantage of the Homestead Act. While the kids would hike the trail with a couple of very young adult supervisors (one was 18 and the other 24), the families would trout the great Western US. They would travel to the Grand Canyon, Durango, Roswell, and the world's largest ball of string. We were all looking to stake our claims on fun and adventure, however I opted to make it a little more difficult.
We arrived at a campground a couple of miles outside of Philmont. The next day we would prepare for the trip, shaking down our equipment, stripping away unnecessary weight, and get as acclimated as possible for elevations 6,000ft and above. Everyone sat in their camp chairs and watched the evening sun melt over the mountains, casting the sky into a palette of pinks, blues, and oranges. Everyone, that is, except me.
I was frantically digging through my bags, my backpack, and Mr. Groome’s van searching for my hiking boots. They were nowhere to be found. This was disastrous. How can I hike the trail in a pair of Payless brand tennis shoes? The things were so cheap that looking at them too long made the glue unbind. I had nothing else, no more footwear, save for a pair of water shoes. My mother began berating me with questions that I already asked myself a billion times before.
Where was the last place you left them? Did you put them in the packs? Did you put them in the camp trailer? This is why I shouldn't have let you pack for yourself. Did you look at the checklist? Everytime we go camping it's the same thing.
A crowd began to gather around me as I searched, drawn by my mother’s innate ability to beat a dead horse out of existence. I most definitely didn't make it any better by falling into the most basic instinct a 14 year old possesses and answer everything sarcastically.
“I swear I packed them!” I pleaded with anyone who could hear. I was terribly upset, embarrassed, ashamed, and felt as if the trip was already a disaster.
Mr. Groome and I ended up having to wake up at 4am and drive two hours to Taos in search of replacement boots. He didn't nag me or make me feel ashamed. We just talked. We talked about all the sites I would be seeing on the trail. The food I would be eating and how to prepare them right. He asked me if I remembered his trick to drying dirty socks by hanging them on the outside of the pack. He taught me to use third and second gears on steep downhills on the roads while driving. He got me excited for adventure again. I miss him.
No outdoor stores were open that early in Taos, so we ended up purchasing cheap and uncomfortable boots at a Walmart. It was not until later that day, upon our return, that we found out that the trip was unnecessary. There was an outfitters store on Philmont property that could rival an REI.
The Walmart boots were terrible, caused enormous blisters, and led to a very rough trek into the wilderness, but I still have fond memories of that trip. Mostly thanks to a single car ride with my grandfather, learning the lesson that material goods are replaceable, but experiences are not.
Three weeks later when we returned home, the boots would be found, resting majestically on the fireplace. Barely broken in and begging for adventure.
Back outside New Origin, I searched my backpack in a last ditch effort to find that damned raincoat. EUREKA!! It's found. I awkwardly slip the coat on in the front seat, grab my pack, and step out into a ray of sunlight and parting clouds. It stopped raining.
Located along Thompson St. just a stone's throw from the Swannanoa River, New Origin Brewing offers a cozy tap room and lively outdoor stretch suitable for relaxation and camaraderie. Opened within this past year, New Origin is already a popular haunt for locals and it's understandable tasting its brews. The brewery offers 13 different brews including 11 beers, a seltzer, and a slushie. New Origin does not fill the boards with a hefty selection of brews, but what it does create is well crafted and tasty.
No flights here. So I roll with the offer of half pours, but I cut out a lot of beers I hoped to taste. The problem is that I am dragging right now, still feeling the long night previously when I walked around Asheville like a drunken Uncle Pennybags. I’m only going with five selections and desperately trying to follow the beer strategy I devised while at Highland.
I selected five beers to roll with: “Keller 7”, “Tmave Origin”, “Focal Point”, “Terraform”, and “We’ve been Jammed”. All the beers glowed and danced in front of me, and at that moment I realized that I’m not completely in the right mindframe. I step out for a moment to catch a second wind and rip a dart. Ok, now I’m ready.
Keller 7 is a Pilsner displaying a light hay color and a slight floral hop aroma. It’s a crispy and stunning pilsner possessing just the right touches of sweetness at the start and bitterness to follow. Perfect beer for outside. I imagine on hotter days, the Keller 7 is a popular choice to knock back will sitting in the courtyard here at the brewery.
Tmave Origin is a dark Czechoslovakian Lager. The word “Tmave” is Czechoslovakian for the word “dark”... that doesn't properly describe the opaqueness of this beverage. It’s nearly black, with a malty scent. You can get lost if you peer too long into this brew, it’s swirling foam creating a pillow for your lips to rest. Tmave is smooth with a roasty malt start and sweet toffee finish.
This place has some interesting beers and they possess my full attention. The aforementioned Chez Lager in conjunction with the next beer I taste, the Vienna Lager, gives me a worldy feeling. It's preposterous to even think this, I know. But at the very least, I’m getting a little Epcot “Beers Around the World” vibes, and that’s comforting.
Focal Point is a Vienna Lager parading a Gingerbread color with a subtle malt aroma. It owns an excellent balance of malt and hops, making this a lovely dad beer! Just dont tell dad that it’s a Vienna Lager… just say lager, smile, and walk away.
Terraform is a New England Style Hazy IPA revealing a vibrant mellow yellow color with classic Hazy IPA notes. Outstanding! It’s juicy and sweet from the start with a balanced hop bitterness to end. Delightful! Superlatives! Superlatives all around! Nothing better tells you how good something is like a one word superlative.
The last beer of the day. No worries, I’m not going anywhere else today. Straight to bed… after a quick trip to Bojangles for a two piece and Bo-Rounds… Leave me alone, I’m on vacation. Maybe a sweet potato pie too… and some Bo-Sauce.
We’ve Been Jammed is a blueberry and lactose Sour exhibiting a milky coral color with a sour berry punch to the nostrils. Sour throughout, with the sweetness of the raspberry and blueberries in the beginning, ending with a lasting vanilla aftertaste. Almost like a blueberry dreamsicle… a BLUEBERRY DREAMSICLE! Oh man, don't you dare steal my million dollar idea.
New Origin Brewing is open Tuesday through Thursday from 4pm to 9pm, Friday from 3pm to 10pm, and Saturday and Sunday from noon to 10pm. The brewery offers a cozy place to relax from the pressures of the real world and sink into some tasty brews. All are welcome, including puppers and kiddos. There was food there under a popup tent when I arrived, but I don't know if that’s a normal set up or just on the weekends, so I suggest you call ahead to make sure.
Remember the lesson here, material goods can be replaced but experiences cannot, so forget the boots, slap on some sandals, and experience this jewel on the Swannanoa River.
Address:
New Origin Brewing
131 Thompson St
Asheville, NC 28803
Social Media:
https://www.neworiginbrewing.com/
https://www.facebook.com/neworiginbrewing/
https://www.instagram.com/neworiginbrewing/
Mountains, Monorails, and Memory Loss
By Ian Guevara
I don't want to wake up.
Beams of sunlight peak through the curtains bathing me in warmth. The soft bed comforts my dehydrated body. It’s the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. I mean not really, but right now it is. I haven’t slept in an actual bed in over three weeks because I’ve been sleeping in a hammock in the middle of the woods. Furthermore, I’m incredibly hungover. I pull myself out of bed and stagger over to the carafe of water left for me by my gracious AirBnB host. One liter is gone in less than a minute. It’s not enough.
What happened last night? I remember Funkatorium… but…
How did I get home? Oh yeah, Uber.
Ok. But how am I so hungover?
Let’s retrace some steps.
As I was tasting at Wicked Weed Funkatorium I stepped outside to take some pictures of one of the beers for a future beer of the day. One of the Sours… they were ALL Sours… but I was trying to find the right angle in the sun.
“What are you doing there, bud?” a bearded bro asked with a thick West Virginia accent.
“Getting a picture for my blog’s social media account.” I answered, then turned around and put on the salesman cap. “I’m hitting up 30 breweries in five weeks and writing about it as I go along.”
I handed them a couple of the “Trail Hoppin” koozies Jonathan amazingly designed and financed. The group was on a bachelor party trip to Asheville, enjoying all the libations and debauchery Asheville offers. After telling a few stories and forgettable jokes (seriously I don't remember) I returned to my table to finish my sampling.
Ok. Then what happened?
Well, we all hit that point. That point in drinking where all sanity and reasoning escapes you and only your Id remains available to consult on important decisions. The ball was rolling, I’m in a new town full of excitement and wonder, why should I go back to the AirBnB right now? What does the night have to offer?
I began to walk down the road. Asheville is beautiful during the day, but it is STUNNING at night… well at least to the intoxicated mind. I’m getting lost, but I don't care. It’s one of the most freeing feelings I’ve ever experienced. I don't have a particular place to go, to be, or to see. I just wandered, like David Carradine in Kung Fu.
I remember entering various bars. I remember talking to various people at various dive bars throughout the downtown area. I remember ordering multiple beers… SHIT rounds of beers… SHIT for multiple people willing to listen to my Albert Finney in Big Fish type tall tales.
I check my wallet. $400 dollars in cash gone… What did I do?
A flash hits me.
That’s right! I ran into the bachelor party bros from West Virginia. Oh man, they were fun.
OH SHIT. I pull out ATM receipts… $400 more dollars.
Nothing. No memories. Just an emailed Uber receipt confirming my return to the AirBnB and a crumpled receipt from Bojangles.
Have I learned my lesson? HELL NO. There will be more days like this. It’s human nature. And, well, it's fun. The financial hit will haunt me for a while… mostly in the visage of ghostly regret. But maybe I made some new fans?
I still don't want to get out of bed. But duty calls… and I’m hungry. I roll out of bed, shower, and set the controls for the heart of the sun… just kidding, I head on over to Highland Brewing Company.
Opened in 1994, Highland Brewing Company lays claim as the first brewery to legally craft beer in the Asheville area. Starting in a basement under a bar in downtown Asheville brewing out of retrofitted dairy processing equipment, Highland eventually expanded to the abandoned Blue Ridge Motion Picture Studies where it literally sits on high land. To get to the brewery you need to wander up a mountain through the woods around a switchback. Incredible.
They made the best of this operation. It is a MASSIVE complex. The compound has everything you would imagine for one of the largest brewers in North Carolina. A tap room, a stage in the tap room for music, a massive warehouse for events, a rooftop patio, multiple food trucks, and a recreational park with another bar and stage for music. Only thing that’s missing to make this “Beer Disneyland” is a monorail to take you around the whole facility.
The tap room is massive, housing the aforementioned stage, multiple gift shops, and plenty of seating for drunks with company. With 26 brews available to consume, I just don't know where to start. Remember, I’m SUFFERING here… for you… hungover and exhausted. What to order with so many options?
This is the moment I make a strategic decision. Gone are the days that I attempt to try every beer the brewery has to offer. Those days lead to nights watching Three Stooges in a hotel room while consuming whole pizzas in one sitting (that’s a story for another day). No, I can't do that here… again… because that’s pretty much what happened last night.
I decide that from here out I’m going to categorize beers into four groups: Light, Malty, Hoppy, and Sour and try to order two from each category. This isn't a perfect categorization as many breweries in Asheville focus solely on one of those categories, especially Hoppy. But at least it's a start and it allows me to review a decent variety of brews.
So with my strategy in mind, I ordered my first flight… and almost immediately deviated from the plan. Look, I said the strategy was not perfect and I would have to pivot and adapt. The first order consisted of “Distant Driver”, “Golden Tiger”, “Mountain Mama”, and “Community Harvest”. Distant Driver is Kolsch showing a butter color with a lovely sweet scent. It’s light and crispy with a solid balance of malt and hops.
Golden Tiger excited me. A Rice Lager displaying a dainty daffodil color and a muted floral fragrance, it reminds me of an elevated Sapporo and makes me want to order salmon and tuna. Golden Tiger possesses an unreal crispness and is balanced from start to finish. Mountain Mama is a tasty Hefeweizen showcasing a cloudy banana color with a wheat and citrus aroma. It’s a solid hefeweizen with all the citrus, wheat, and banana notes to make it a perfect go-to beer if you’re not feeling adventurous.
My favorite of the day was the last of my first flight. Community Harvest is a Sour parading a powerfully alluring deep magenta color and a floral and sour smell. Its tartness is an understatement, yet it’s well balanced and allows the sweetness of the blueberry to compliment the sour. Like drinking a dream, I savored every sip, taking my time and searching for every single note provided.
My second flight flowed with the classic “Gaelic Ale”, “Imperial Thunderstruck”, “Hazy Heights”, and “Trail Bound”. A tasty Red Ale, Gaelic Ale exhibits a beautiful bronze color and a yeasty smell. It starts buttery and finishes with a great toffee hint. Imperial Thunderstruck is a bourbon aged coffee porter revealing a dark, deep, and hickory color and a strong malty note. The smoky bourbon hits from beginning to end, however it's well balanced by the coffee bitterness.
Hazy Heights is a New England Style Hazy IPA consisting of a gold color and more on the clearer side for a Hazy IPA but still possesses the classic hop and tropical hints. It’s sweet to start, followed by the tropical floral hop bitterness. Trail Bound is another Hazy IPA appearing with a hazy mellow yellow that's more akin to the New England Style Hazy IPA, even with its fragrant scents. It’s light and juicy to start with a balanced bitterness making this Hazy IPA a go to for lovers of hoppy aftertastes.
Highland Brewing Company is open from Monday through Thursday from 2pm to 9pm, Friday and Saturday from noon to 10pm, and Sunday from 12pm to 7pm. Visit the tap room for a couple of beers and some crunchy grooves or the meadow for some fun in the sun and grass. Or just grab some tasty bites from the multiple food trucks and chow down on the patio. Either way, this “Beer Disneyland” has everything you could ask for.
Except for a monorail, it needs a monorail.
Address:
Highland Brewing Company
2 Old Charlotte Highway, Suite 200
Asheville, North Carolina 28803
Social Media:
https://www.facebook.com/HighlandBrewingCompany
https://www.instagram.com/highlandbrewing/
https://twitter.com/HighlandBrews
Funkadelic Fermentation
By Ian Guevara
As I finished my last flight, my phone buzzed.
Are you going to hit Funkatorium? Jonathan asked me via text message. I dont know anything about them, but the name sounds like my kind of place.
I was supposed to check into the AirBnB after my last brewery. I was supposed to relax, catch up on Stranger Things, The Boys, and The Old Man. I was supposed to finish my stories for three other breweries so I wouldn't fall behind.
“Hey, what can you tell me about Funkatorium?” I asked Olivia, the bartender at Sweeten Creek.
“Oh, it’s part of Wicked Weed,” She answers, then looks over at the other bartender for reassurance, “I think it's known for its sours.”
“Wait, this is a brewery with nothing but sours?” I almost yelled.
I can hit Funkatorium, I texted back to Jonathan.
Like I said, I know nothing, I just dig the name. Jonathan shot back.
They’re known for sours… I’m going. I type back.
I knew I liked them. Jonathan answered.
Jonathan and I share a love of Sours and Goses. I’ve stated before that a Gose was my first beer love. Sours and Goses are not what a person even thinks about when they hear the word “beer”; at least to the novice. Usually it's Lagers, Ales, Stouts, Porters, IPAs, etc. But that’s exactly what makes micro-breweries so great. Those wizards of fermentation concoct potent potions of varied flavors. Mixing hops, barley, rice, wheat, yeast, and whatever other grains and fruits they deem suitable.
Brewers should be considered scientists. They experiment and use the old “Scientific Method” we all learned in middle school science class. Brewers look for the perfect chemical and biological combinations to find the right tasting beer. They use yeast to produce bacteria to devour sugars and create carbonation. It's amazing how brewers use little microbes like biochemists in a lab.
It's that yeast that’s used to construct sours. That bacteria makes them tarty, tasty, and crisp. We owe that puckering explosion to names like Lactobacillus, Pediococcus, and Brettanomyces.
I wonder, how much better at science we would be as a nation if we just leaned into fermentation like wine, beer, and cider creation? Using beer brewing to explain chemistry, physics, and biology. Would many of our paths be different? Would that discovery have sparked the light of science like Star Trek and Carl Sagan's Cosmos did for me in my formative years?
As a teacher, I can affirm that the education system is broken. It forces all subjects to be contained and packaged like a can of processed meat. Full of additives, constructed to be consistent and flavorless. There are only so many limited ways to prepare Spam differently and they all taste terrible. So just imagine for a second if we focused our education into, well, things that are actually interesting.
Just think of how much happier the teachers would be too! At the end of every month, the teachers would get to taste the science experiments, judge them, and shower great praise on the students' work. How much more would the students be motivated to excel, to compete, to improve their methods? I think it would be remarkable.
“My GAWD,” I utter under my breath as I park on Coxe Avenue, planted squarely down the barrel of the “South Slope Brewery District '' of Asheville. Breweries are EVERYWHERE. Every corner, every block, even the air was thick with the smell of beer.
Located on Coxe Avenue only a few blocks from the heart of downtown Asheville, Wicked Weed Funkatorium offers a dizzying array of over 32 different Sour beers puckering the taste buds of every soul to enter its doors. It’s a little color-by-numbers, however. The brewery requires customers to choose from a massive list of preset sour combos, various brew combinations specifically constructed by the brewers to assist with their tasty journey.
Opened in 2014, just two years after the original Wicked Weed Brew Pub, Funkatorium serves as the South’s first and only sour-beer dedicated tap room. Its a rather large operation, with an expansive bar, cavernous warehouse dotted with tables and chairs, and an outside section replete with picnic tables and lush artificial grass.
Trish, a wonderful server with the patience of a god, walks me through the process of ordering beers. As Inigo Montoya once proclaimed, “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” Let me sun up my process, because otherwise it is rather extensive. I sit down, prepare my notes on a notepad, open my computer, ask for a wifi password, review the menu, set up my beer list, take pictures of the venue, write down more notes, all the while poor bartenders and servers wait patiently through my foolishness.
Luckily Trish is a cultured and patient server. She guides me through the menu and helps me decide on which libations to order. I needed her help desperately. The Funkatorium menu is extensive. Like I said before, 32 different sours! I quickly sent Jonathan the PDF of the menu.
Holy shit dude, look at THAT SOUR LIST. I texted Jonathan, sending him a copy of the preset Sour list. Sours only. How? How am I supposed to?
Holy shit. Jonathan retorts, You’re a superhero, you know that?
Again these are all Sours, so the descriptions may end up being similar to each other, so bear with me here. I’m doing my best.
My first set of flights, the “#2 Brett Farmhouse Sours”, were filled with ''Eranta”, ''Garcon de Germe”, “Brettaberry”, and “Ferm de Chien”. Eranta is a pomegranate and orange zest Sour showing an amber color with a sweet and sour scent. It’s excellent, light, and crispy with a sweet citrus start and a zesty, almost spicy finish.
Garcon de Germe is a lychee, pineapple, hibiscus, and oak Sour displaying a lovely hay color and a sweet and floral fragrance. It punches with sourness and leaves a subtle sweet pineapple aftertaste. Ferm de Chien is a cherry Sour possessing a corral color and a subtle cherry and floral smell. It’s sweet, cherry, and floral to start with a sour (obviously) finish that lasts.
The star of the flight, and the star of my two preset selections, was the Brettaberry. Parading a gorgeous rose color, this blackberry, blueberry, strawberry, and honey Sour wafts a sweet berry and soft aroma into the nostrils, mesmerizing the drinker into a lull of near ecstasy. All berries are present… I’m having a hard time truly describing its complexity... It's just amazing, with a sour and salty finish. Unreal, simply unreal.
My second preset set of flights, the “#4 Barrel-Aged Sours”, were filled with “Genesis”, “Anarasa Morte”, “Sandiaca”, and “Medora”. These were all Barrel-Aged Sours, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. They are very sour. Like atomic warhead sour. Do you remember in middle school when a friend would dare you to put all the six flavors of Atomic Warheads in your mouth at one time and you did? These beers were THAT sour.
Genesis is a tropical fruit and white wine Barrel-Aged Sour revealing a fire color and a puckering smell. It’s sweet and tropical to start parting with a smooth grape finish. Anarasa Morte is an apricot infused Barrel-Aged Sour showcasing a honey color and a muted sour apricot aroma. It’s oaky and SUPER sour to start with a sweet apricot halftime and sour finish.
Sandiaca is a watermelon, basil, and gin Barrel-Aged Sour exhibiting a mellow yellow color and a spectacular floral and melon fragrance. The watermelon and sour start powerfully, finishing with a lovely basil touch. Medora is a blackberry, raspberry, and red wine Barrel-Aged Sour appearing with a Lemon color and an almost riesling aroma. It’s sweet and dry to start with a sour berry finish.
Wicked Weed Funkatorium is open Sunday through Thursday from 11am to 11pm and Friday and Saturday from 11am to 12pm. The brewery offers a more formal atmosphere for a brewery than I’m used to with selected seating, tasty selection of food (including a muffuletta?...), and a preset beer tasting menu. With fantastic service, unreal Sour beers, and congenial outdoor seating, Funkatorium is a brewpub worth making a detour and staying for a while.
Beer is science, so is tasting it, so make sure to cover all your variables.
Address:
Wicked Weed Funkatorium
147 Coxe Ave.
Asheville, NC 28801
Social Media:
https://www.wickedweedbrewing.com/location/funkatorium/
https://www.facebook.com/WickedWeedBrewing
https://www.instagram.com/wickedweedbrewing/
https://twitter.com/wickedweedbeer
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxzHGV8k_n6cSAWVtLNwGkA
https://untappd.com/b/wicked-weed-brewing-funkatorium/4122656
Happy Meals, Hoppy Trails, and Tasty Ales
By Ian Guevara
The temperature is cooling down. I touch the driver side window, a technique taught to me by Mr. Groome to gauge the temperature outside. It's cooler, much cooler.
I check the compass app on my phone as I navigate an interstate weaving in and around mountain passes. 2,600 ft. The cooler temperatures are one of the many benefits of being in the mountains. It invigorates me. A second wind. One that will fill my sails for only a short time here in Asheville. What adventures will I find? What treasures will I discover? Who will I meet? What stories will I divine?
Who knows?
What I do know is that it's only two in the afternoon and I can’t check into the AirBnB until after four. It’s ok, I planned for this. A few weeks back I searched for breweries in the immediate area of my AirBnB. Sweeten Creek Brewing bounced on Apple Maps, like one of Pennywise’s balloons beckoning me to join. Who am I to resist such temptation when it comes to beer?
I let the phone guide me, trusting its inconsistent navigation skills.
I’m not going to lie, I am full of anxious anticipation. This is the first time I’ve been in Asheville in close to 30 years. The last time I was here I was enamored: the town had a Lowe’s. A big blue building hidden mysteriously behind a row of pines with a massive parking lot full of cars like a miniature amusement park. I had no idea what it was, but I wanted to go.
“It’s just a big hardware store like a Home Depot,” Mr. Groome stated at the time, shattering my dreams of some sort of mountain Wal-Mart, but better, filled with toys and fun.
30 years later, I’m still allowing my imagination to run wild. This time with anticipation of what’s to come on this six night jaunt into the East Coast Beer Mecca. I’m flying solo too, no one to shoot down my more exaggerated stories, ideas, or plans. No one to regulate me. Let’s see how much self control I truly have.
None. It has been, is, and forever will be none. No self control. It escapes me the second I think I caught it like its Bugs Bunny and my will power is Elmer Fudd.
I walk into Sweeten Creek Brewing and my man-child attention span is immediately drawn to the row of McDonald's Happy Meal toys lined up on the bar.
What a time it was to be a kid in the 90s, without a doubt the best era of fast food kids meal toys. All of the different fast food places had toys. McDonald’s, Burger King, Wendy’s and even Taco Bell. While there was a steady competition between mainly McDonald’s and Burger King, the old clown reigned supreme.
Burger King, however, had the crown briefly in the late 90s when Pokemon dominated the airwaves. Each kids meal came with a Pokeball containing a different Pokemon and stat card inside. If you were lucky, you received the surprise golden card of Mewtwo. Childhood obesity rose rapidly in 1999.
Burger King’s reign was short-lived. The plastic balls containing those little anime monsters were deemed choking hazards. Burger King sent out a recall and wiped out the dreams of every child trying to catch all the pokemon including the rarest pokemon of all, diabetes.
Regardless, McDonald’s produced by far the best toys. It had a near monopoly on Warner Brothers, Disney, and any other intellectual property that wanted to sell itself to the fast food giant for marketing purposes. It worked. Micky Ds had it all, Batman toys, Ninja Turtle toys, Power Ranger toys, and Looney Tunes toys when there wasn’t a movie to promote.
By far the best sets came from The Mighty Ducks cartoon series and Space Jam, the one with Bill Murray. The Mighty Ducks were hockey pucks with a different character driving it like a car. The toys truly served no better purpose than to be paperweights. I wanted them all. Space Jam, on the other hand, offered “fitness” toys with Michael Jordan’s face plastered all over them. Opening a happy meal could reveal a frisbee, a mini basketball or football, and even a jump rope. I desperately wanted the frisbee… I always got the jump rope.
The bar here at Sweeten Creek Brewing has some of the newer toys, none of the classics, but still enough to rouse nostalgia and memories.
Located off Sweeten Creek Road only a mile or two from downtown Asheville, Sweeten Creek Brewing offers a wonderful setting for brews, BBQ, and recreation. Before I even stepped inside I was wowed by the expansive recreational park next to the brewery. An outstretched green field, dotted with shady trees, and a little bar in the middle for those who wish to have their beer under the heavens.
Inside, the tap room is modern and inviting housing a wooden bar replete with McDonald’s toys and a jovial, knowledgeable, and courteous staff behind it. The brewery provides over 15 different brews with a rotating selection, I assume depending on whatever witchcraft the brewers are into.
I kept telling myself, only two flights, Ian, you have to check in to the AirBnB and you have to moderate yourself.
Yeah. Sure.
My first flight shimmered with “Mexican Lager”, “Honey Bear”, “Picnic Party”, and “Ashecill”. I’m so happy that Mexican Lagers are making a comeback. More than half the breweries I’ve visited so far have produced a Mexican Lager in some form whether it be light or dark. In this instance Sweeten Creek Brewing’s Mexican Lager displays a hay colored with a light biscuit smell. It’s crispy, possessing a light malt start with a slight spicy hint to end making it a great summer beer to enjoy the outdoors. Honey Bear is a Belgian Blonde Ale displaying a Honey color and a muted hop aroma. It starts with a light and roasty malt flavor and a muted hoppy finish.
The name “Picnic Party” just screams “outside beer”. It’s not false advertising. A Pilsner showcasing a Daffodil color and a bready fragrance, Picnic Party is light and crispy with a sweet start and muted hoppy end. Perfect beer to sip while sitting on a blanket or letting your toes rummage through lush grass. Ashechill is a New England Style IPA possessing the signature mellow yellow NEIPA color and the classic citrus and hoppy hazy scent. It's a JUICY Hazy IPA starting sweet and tropical and a balanced bitterness to follow.
My second flight consisted of “Summer Sun”, “Pineapple Pale Ale”, “Stout Season”, and “Blueper Patch”. Summer Sun stole the show. A Spiced Wit parading a soft hay color and a spicy wheat aroma. It’s light, crispy, and tart possessing a sweet and citrus start and muted spiciness that's persistent and delectable. A lovely airy beer that's perfect for outside.
Pineapple Pale Ale paced not far behind Summer Sun. A Pale Ale revealing an apricot color and a splendid pineapple smell. Pineapple Pale Ale starts with a stunning sweet pineapple punch and finishes with a dainty balanced bitterness.
Stout Season is a tasty Milk Stout exhibiting an opaque and brown with a liquorice scent. It starts with a DOPE chocolate punch and a smooth malty finish. Blueper Patch in another New England Style IPA with the addition of blueberry and lactose. Revealing a bumblebee color with a sweet blueberry punch to the nostrils, Blueper Patch starts super sweet with a blueberry pop and a bitter aftertaste masked by the lactose subtleness.
Sweeten Creek Brewing is open from noon to 9pm Tuesday through Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday and on Friday from noon to 10pm. The brewery offers tasty beers, delicious BBQ, and an outdoor park rife with relaxation, occasional music, and a scenic look over the brewery’s namesake. With a courteous and knowledgeable staff you never feel welcomed and will always have a place to rest worries and Happy Meal toys.
This is the place for adult Happy Meals, and the prize is flowing beer.
Address:
Sweeten Creek Brewing
1127 Sweeten Creek Rd.Asheville, NC 28803
Social Media:
https://sweetencreekbrewing.com/
https://www.facebook.com/sweetenbrews/
https://twitter.com/sweetenbrews
Mountains Over Beaches and Beer Over Everything Else
By Ian Guevara
I’ve always loved the mountains.
I guess living in a bowl my entire life affected my perception for what I most desire. When I see a green covered ridge contrasted by a stunning blue sky, I’m instantly mesmerized. I immediately imagine what it would be like to explore that ridge, camp on it, and view a sunrise, sunset, or both from the pinnacle.
Most dating apps ask little personality questions to help the user dictate your likes and dislikes like a modern day Caligula. One of those questions is “Beach or Mountains?” What psychopath would choose being at the beach over the mountains? Beaches are sweaty, humid ovens, where the sand magnifies the heat, gets in uncomfortable places, and there’s sharks. Have you seen Jaws? Yeah, I’m good fam. Mountains on the other hand offer cooling shade, crystal cold creeks, hammock locations, and stunning scenery. I think the choice is pretty clear.
I’m on the road to Asheville. I chose a more scenic route through the Cherokee Reservation and rose higher and higher into the cool and cold mist of the picturesque fog of the Smokies. As I crest a height of nearly 4600ft the mist clears and I’m greeted by a spectacular peak at the top of the world. I stop to view it. Fog wraps around and hugs the base of mountains like an ocean slowly churning with little green islands popping out bathing in the sunlight. Beaches suck.
Before I get to Asheville I stop in Maggie Valley, a little hamlet only about a half hour drive from the outskirts of Beer Valhalla. Maggie Valley possesses gorgeous lookouts, abutted on all sides by tall peaks and cheap roadside motels. Obviously it's a tourist town, but that doesn't take away from the optical enjoyment.
Bear Waters Brewing Company is my next stop, my little appetizer before I gluttonously fall upon the city of Asheville. It’s a delectable appetizer swirling with the sounds of clinking pints, crispy pizza, and crunchy grooves. The notes hit me before anything else, I’m always excited to rock out to Rush. The unmistakable guitarwork of Alex Lifeson hums, “Closer to the Heart”, one of my favorite songs.
In 2015, I saw Rush at the Smoothie King Center in what remains the most outstanding stage show for a concert I’ve ever seen. It was right before Neil Peart publicized his battle with arthritis, a death knell for any musician. But there they were, in their mid sixties and still craftsmen. We could have been satisfied with just a simple rock show with a few visuals and the greatest hits… the beach version of a concert. No. Rush gave us the mountains.
They played for nearly three hours. 26 total songs plus a bunch of funny interlude videos featuring the likes of Paul Rudd, Jason Segal, along with Ricky, Julian, and Bubbles from the Trailer Park Boys. “Roll the Bones”, “Subdivisions”, “Tom Sawyer”, “The Spirit of the Radio”, “Jacob’s Latter”, “Working Man”, Rush played a varied selection, almost like a flight of music for us. Not once did they exhibit an ounce of fatigue, but rather smiles and ease. They played their catalog of songs in reverse chronological order, taking us back in time with each epic riff.
Most compelling were the set pieces. Those too showed the passage of time. Starting with a Steam-Punk inspired motif, to a mid-eighties sleek display of excess, and ending with two small speakers resting on plastic chairs in a school gymnasium. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and I don't imagine I will again. Again, they gave us the mountains.
Located on the scenic Highway 19 in Maggie Valley, Bear Waters Brewing Company rests upon Jonathans Creek, providing a picturesque view of the creek with the mountains growing in the background. The “Creekside” location is their second site, testing and creating small batches, while the main facility rests in Canton, just a half hour drive away. The original operation began in Waynesville, but the owner outgrew their surroundings and branched out for a bigger and better future.
The tap room is massive, with high ceilings and plenty of seating either at tables or at the bar. The outdoor area begs for late night libations and singing, with a stage and lights strung overhead. The beer selection is varied, with over 15 different brews and a seltzer.
With “Closer to the Heart” still humming in my head I approached the bar and set to order my first flight. “Milltown Dry-Hopped Pilsner”, “J Creek Blonde”, “Pink Passion Fruit Sour”, and “Papertown Pilsner” filled the glasses of my first flight displaying hues of gold and pink. Milltown Dry-Hopped Pilsner displays a Clear gold color with a hop scent. It screams light and airy, just crazy light and crispy starting with a slight sweetness and muted bitter finish. If you put your ear to the beer, you'll hear the crack of bats, making it a perfect beer for baseball.
J Creek Blonde is a Blonde Ale showcasing a stunning daffodil color with a slight malty aroma. It's light and crispy with a popping bread flavor, super tasty, like eating a slice of lightly toasted bunny bread. Going with another Pilsner, Papertown showcases a clear gold color with an almost floral hop hit. It's light and airy, with a mellow sweetness and bitterness from beginning to end. Pink Passion Fruit Sour, the winner of the day, seductively unveils a lovely rose color with a passion fruit fragrance. It's light and crispy starting off with the passion fruit sweetness and the incredible sourness to follow.
My second flight flowed with “SMASH: Pils/Citra”, “Stiff Paddle”, “Bugle Boy”, and “Heavy Cream”. SMASH Pils/Citra, the 10 anniversary brew, is a Single Malt and Single Hop Ale parading playfully with a light yellow color and a fruity hop aroma. It tastes like a subtle IPA possessing a slight citrus start and hop finish. Stiff Paddle is an IPA exhibiting a marigold color, dark for an IPA, with a classic IPA hoppy floral fragrance. It's super sweet to start balanced out perfectly by a muted but stated bitterness.
Bugle Boy is a British Brown Ale revealing a tawny colored ale with a sweet roasty smell. Rich and smooth with a toasty start and sweet and airy caramel finish. Heavy Cream is a Milk Stout flaunts a deep and brooding gingerbread shade with a chocolate scent. Surprisingly light for a stout, the stout is creamy and tasty, starting with a malty sweetness and finishing caramel and silky.
Bear Waters Brewing Company is open Sundays, Tuesday through Thursday noon to 9pm and Friday and Saturday from noon to 10pm. The brewery offers flowing taps, live music on weekends, and tasty grub to satiate any appetite. If there’s no live music, worry not, the playlist rocks and the creekside flows and babbles away with the sight of mountains in the distance.
Mountains over beaches, it's not just the right choice, but one that displays competent sanity.
Address:
Bear Waters Brewing Company
4352 Soco Rd
Maggie Valley, NC 28751
Social Media:
https://www.bearwatersbrewing.com/
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCOsXimt9tmc3Cq0giYtNJRA
https://www.facebook.com/BWBRiverside