Craft Beer's Tome: We Make Beer By Sean Lewis

Craft Beer's Tome: We Make Beer By Sean Lewis

When we order a beer at a bar, we don't think too hard. What are we really drinking? Do we know the ingredients? How does the recipe affect our reaction? Who made these choices? Is our choice based on brand loyalty? What creates brand loyalty? Do we only like certain beer styles? Why?

If it creates a pleasant sensation on our tongues and in our brains, we'll go for it. This is a neurological process we only approach peripherally. It's not our primary concern. These questions don't go through our heads with every order. Rather, they're in the background, shading our decisions and giving us the impetus to make a choice based on gut feeling.

This has little to do with the cognitive effects alcohol has on us. It's more about a lack of perspective. The world surrounding the craft beer industry, from the beer geeks trying every new product from small breweries across the nation, to the artisans at those myriad businesses who devise and execute every aspect of the beer-making process, has been an attempt to get people to think more about what they like and why they like it, rather than settling for one of two consistent-if-unmemorable options made by multinational conglomerations.

This is the subject of author Sean Lewis's new book, We Make Beer. Lewis, a former BeerAdvocate contributor, makes a cross-country trip to a slew of craft breweries, from the biggest like Chico, California's Sierra Nevada Brewing to the itty bitty scrappers getting their feet wet like Blue Hills Brewing Company in Canton, Massachusetts, where he had once worked as an intern under brewmaster Andris Veidis. In the process, he describes the ins and outs of how beer gets made, how the companies form, grow, and sometimes collapse, and he gets to some deeper ideas about small business in America by highlighting one of its most currently vibrant examples.

The moments when Lewis interviews brewmasters and company heads about the big picture questions are when the book shines. A thematic through line becomes apparent with every person. These people are all about working their tails off to form a community. They work long and strange hours to create a sense of place for their neighbors, a gathering spot where locals can develop a sense of pride in where they're from and a feeling of togetherness in whatever problems come their way.

One anecdote about Sheepscot Valley Brewing Company founder Steve Gorrill highlights this phenomena well. Last year, Gorrill became ill and collapsed at his Maine brewery. Tests showed he had a stroke caused by a brain tumor. Money was tight because he had not gone the route of pure moneymaking in his brewing business. More of an eccentric, he tinkered and made his beers to whatever whims came to mind. He had a great local business going, but Sheepscot was not a nationally recognized brand like, say, New Belgium. Their goals were different. This caused problems with medical bills as Gorrill's tumor was removed and treated with chemotherapy and radiation and had to basically relearn to speak following the stroke. This made him unable to properly train the volunteers who wanted to help him continue his regular brewing pace. But these problems were helped by the community Gorrill had begun, when his wife received an envelope filled with $500 to help with medical expenses. Gorrill is recovering and has a good longterm prognosis, which will likely keep him serving his locals for a long time still.

But that community sentiment follows these craft brewers in their business dealings, as well. Time and again, Lewis writes about these people helping each other, bartering ingredients when one place runs low for whatever reason, offering advice for new recipes, hanging out at beer competitions, and generally being friends. This is not the competition between rivals, but more like a pair of teammates working toward the same goal and pushing each other, through their personal achievements, to accomplish collective success. They look at giants like Anheuser-Busch InBev and Miller as the competition, but each other as buddies. They're not trying to one-up each other because they see beer as a market where variety is an irrefutable good. Knocking each other off would be a net negative.

It is the moments when Lewis delves into the beer-making process that things get a bit tough to follow. He provides a helpful glossary, but these descriptions get jargon-y and more for the already initiated. For those looking for insight into how to get going on their own brewing, it could be an invaluable learning source, but anyone inclined toward pure storytelling might find themselves a bit lost at this foreign process.

More invaluable is the volume of beer suggestions Lewis makes. His critical writing on the taste elements display an author with a strong ability to convey gastronomical experiences. He makes a case for the difference of each beer. He takes an evenhanded approach to the current trend in making hops the signifier of good beer by suggesting that couldn't be further from the truth and that “hopheads” are limiting themselves with their quasi-religious devotion to one style.

Lewis knows what he's talking about and he creates a narrative about the American dream of doing what makes you happy and being successful at it. The brewers he encounters provide a service for their communities, each other, and the country as a whole by working exceptionally hard to offer relaxation and enjoyment. The finer things in life are worth working hard for.

You can now find We Make Beer at all major booksellers.

Parts and Labor: An Off-Kilter (In a Good Way) Sports Bar

Parts and Labor: An Off-Kilter (In a Good Way) Sports Bar

Parts and Labor (2700 N. Milwaukee Ave.) in Logan Square is testing out showing football games throughout September, where you can catch the Bears and any number of other teams with a different ambiance than most sports bars. Halfstacker Rob Samuelson checked out last Sunday's game against the 49ers. Here's his report. Feel free to check out this Sunday's game against the New York Jets at 7:30.

With the windows wide open, Parts and Labor is a bit brisk for an early September day. The floor reminds me of a stroll through Home Depot, all pragmatic gray and rugged. The booths are painted with black and blue Tetris shapes, giant air ducts hang visibly from the ceiling, and behind the bar is what looks like a shrine to Chutes and Ladders – or maybe a morbid ode to those whose lives have been cut short in elevated painting accidents.

My friends have quizzical looks on their faces as we sit on chipped, practical-looking stools in the middle of the establishment. They don't verbalize it, but, “Are you sure we're here to watch the Bears game?” is written in their eyes. Then the menus come.

“Ah, yes, okay, that makes sense,” is now what their expressions say.

Burgers and fried everything abound. And it's cheap. Like, $5 cheap. So inexpensive, in fact, that my friend Tom gets a second burger after he finishes his first, and that was after I watched him eat nachos earlier in the afternoon. The training for that half marathon he ran a couple weeks ago has raised his appetite and metabolism to disturbing heights.

I go a little more gastronomically conservative and order myself a black bean burger and fried pickles. The pickles' crust is golden brown, but they're more goopy and soggy than I expected. This is in no way a bad thing. They taste like pickles should, but more. The juice hasn't been fried out of the equation, thankfully. I'm not a food connoisseur, so I apologize for not being able to explain it right. They were delicious and Parts and Labor puts a convenient bowl of Ranch dressing in the middle to serve as even more taste enhancement.

We got here early because we were hungry and the Bears didn't take the field against the San Francisco 49ers (but really, as we learned during the broadcast, the 49ers now play an hour or so outside of the Rice-a-Roni city, so they should rescind their title) until 7:30. The Green Bay Packers are instead on the giant projected screen. This gives me some observation time.

And the things I observe are out of the ordinary for a bar showing sporting events. They have massive outdoor spaces, far away from the bar's televisions. Stax and Chess Records soul plays on the stereo. Instead of framing signed pictures of former local athletic heroes, Parts and Labor has glossy, coffee-table-book-sytle photographs of machinery. Some look like water pumps, others like parts of the electrical grid. It's a nod to the industrial revolution and blue collar work, the kind done by people who watch these games at bars.

But, this being Logan Square, it's not just blue collar types hanging out. There's one young woman with purple hair and a vest with a cute kitten screen printed on it. I can't tell from afar what kind of beer she's drinking, but it's definitely not a beer with enough capital to sponsor the NFL. I give thanks to the alcohol gods that this is the case and order a Lagunitas Little Sumpin' Sumpin' to enjoy with my burger and pickles.

Eventually, with the game about to get going, I return to my buddies and put my notebook away. The channel changes to NBC and their Sunday Night Football program, the league's big game of the week showcase. We can see Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth going through their pregame banter. But we can't hear them. Instead, they play the Violent Femmes' “Add It Up,” which has noticeable bad words instead of the easily brushed off addiction metaphors in the football-crowd-approved “Blister in the Sun.” I'm not complaining, because Collinsworth has infuriatingly built a broadcasting career out of doing nothing but calling professional athletes “athletic.” But since we came here to watch the game, I ask if we can turn the TV volume up.

This causes a look of pure “uh-oh” on the waitress's face. She heads to the bar to confer with other employees and the general consensus is a shrug. Looks like we're stuck with our good beers, good food, good company, good music, and not being subjected to inane Michaels-Collinsworth chatter. This is no tragedy. It leads to a little confusion as to who did things on the field – as someone who's pretty much only a baseball and hockey fan, I can name probably four Bears players – but I'll gladly take the tradeoff. Sure, I'm left asking if players who retired nearly a decade ago still play for the team, but oh well.

The game is a drag for most of its runtime. The 49ers build a sizable lead and our attentions wane. Explaining why The Velvet Underground's “Rock and Roll” is great becomes more important than debating whether Bears quarterback Jay Cutler can earn his newly minted contract.

But then the fourth quarter rolls around and things get fun on the screen. Cutler starts picking apart the 49ers, touchdowns are scored, then the Bears take the lead precious seconds ticking down. My friends and I are shocked. How 'bout that? The clock expires and the Bears have officially come back from 17-0 and 20-7 deficits to win 28-20.

Not half bad all around.