For this month’s Session, Alistair Reece at Fuggled has chosen a topic he calls Sepia Tones, basically a look back at what makes your Beer Story.
Without further ado, here’s mine, albeit a bit late. (And by the way, Mr. Reece, many thanks for jumping in to host at the last minute.)
My Beer Story started as a child in the San Francisco Bay Area. Dad would tell me to get him a beer (usually Olympia) out of the fridge. At some point, maybe age 10 or so, he’d let me open it and take a sip (or two) as I brought it to him.
Olympia played a big part of my childhood. Mom grew up in the Pacific Northwest, and every other summer we’d pile in the car for the long drive north to visit relatives. Without fail, Mom would snap a photo (or several) of Olympia’s Tumwater brewery, visible from the freeway as we passed.
In fact, Oly literally followed me into college. The truck Dad passed down to me had a camper shell, the entire back window of which proudly displayed the Olympia logo, complete with “It’s The Water”.
I’m saddened for what’s happened to the brand, especially since the facility, framed by so many car windows in so many of Mom’s photo albums, closed years ago. Pabst brews it in Los Angeles now, a fact underscored by a recent lawsuit claiming “It’s the Water” is false advertising, since it’s no longer been the water for quite some time. I doubt it’ll go anywhere, but I gotta admit it did make me smile.
THE COLLEGE YEARS
The late ’80s/early ’90s in Sacramento were filled with whatever mass-produced dreck I could afford — Hamm’s, MeisterBrau, Milwaukee’s Best, Schaefer, Burgie, you name it. I could always tell when my dorm roommate’s check arrived from his parents — the fridge would suddenly be stocked with Heineken.
Lucky Lager was a favorite during the dorm days. We spent many an afternoon sitting in a circle on the floor as we downed one after another, passing around the bottle caps to see if we could solve the picture puzzles underneath. Which undoubtedly got harder as the day got longer.
A later roommate worked for a local chain drug-store. One day he came home with several cases, remainders of broken six-packs, that they sold to employees for a Quarter each.
You’d have thought we won the lottery.
What really got me into “microbrews”, even more than Sierra Nevada, was Samuel Adams. Boston Lager was a revelation. Actual color! And flavor! Yes, it cost a few extra bucks, but by that time I had a decent-paying college job (with weekends off!), so I could splurge on the occasional six-pack.
If Boston Lager started my education, Rubicon Brewing accelerated it. As a newly minted 21-year-old in 1989, it was probably the first brewery I ever visited. I marveled at all the styles on the chalkboard. Amber Ale? Porter? ESB? What WERE these things?
I was indeed heartbroken to hear of Rubicon’s recent closing.
Another favorite of my Sac State days was the long-since-defunct Hogshead Brewing in Old Sac. Sharing pitcher after pitcher in that dank, dark basement, watching the Beer Dawgs play on Saturday nights, remain some of my fondest college memories.
Sac’s about 25 years behind me now, and the beer scene that has since sprouted up around these old places is nothing short of mystifying. I’ve only managed to visit a few of the now more than 60 Sacramento-area breweries. Amazing.
EVOLVING INTO “THE BEERVERSE”
I returned to the Bay Area after college, and some of my early favorites include more places now gone — Pyramid in Berkeley (and Walnut Creek), Black Diamond in Walnut Creek, Hoptown Brewing in Pleasanton.
Speaking of Pleasanton, two of my long-time favorites there are fortunately still going strong — HopYard Alehouse and Main Street Brewery.
I was (and I guess technically still am) a member of HopYard’s Harvest Beer Club. Like many clubs, you tallied each beer you tried, and got rewards for reaching certain levels. I still have my cap and sweatshirt.
My favorite memory by far, though, was reaching the bus tour level. The bus, complete with kegs, left Pleasanton for our first stop, Sudwerk Brewing in Davis. After a great lunch and more beer, we left for our next stop, St. Stan’s in Modesto (which thankfully is being revived after wandering from its original vision and eventually closing).
The kegs blew midway to Modesto. Once there, the staff attempted to give us a tour, although very few had much attention span left by that point. Then, after more beer, it was back on the bus, now restocked with several cases of St. Stan’s, for the raucous trip home.
If I was ever a regular anywhere, it was at Main Street Brewery. Matt Billings has been going strong as the owner/brewer there since the mid-’90s, and back in the day I closed the place down more often than I should admit. It helped that it was walking distance to where I lived, although he was kind enough to give me a lift home every now and then.
If you’re ever at the old Cheese Factory building in downtown Pleasanton, say Hi to Matt, who still brews in the tiny brewhouse stuffed in a couple of rooms behind the bar. I left Pleasanton many years ago, so I don’t see him much anymore.
But, come to think of it, I believe he’s pouring at a festival I’m attending very soon. I definitely should make a point to thank him for being such a big part of My Beer Story.