Podcast: Good Beer Hunting

Despite alarming headlines and loud proclamations that “craft beer is
dead,” that’s only part of the story—and not a particularly accurate one,
at that.

Industry insiders can get bogged down in the depressing details (even we’ve
been guilty of it at one time or another). But reporters Kate Bernot and
Beth Demmon decided to see how and where the heart of craft beer still
beat, and went to the 2024 Firestone Walker Invitational Beer Festival in
Paso Robles to find out.

It turns out, the craft beer industry can’t just be measured by Circana
numbers or market share. Websites and social media don’t paint a full
picture, and after talking to a bunch of festival attendees, they realized
there’s a whole lot of love and life still left to consumers passionate
about the beverage, the people, and the community. Craft beer loves to talk
about how it brings people together, and based on their observations, it
still can.

In this episode, you’ll hear from both Beth and Kate, as well as a number
of attendees interviewed at the festival, on why they decided to spend
their time and hard-earned money on an afternoon under the California sun.
The beer itself plays a part of it, sure. But there’s so much more that
keeps people coming back. This is finding joy in beer.

Beer is having a hard time these days. Category-wide, sales are down and
interest just isn’t the same it used to be. But what if the enthusiasm that
got us to this point—excitement that helped lead to almost 10,000 small and
independent breweries scattered across the country—is still just as
palpable now as it was one, two, or 10 years ago? It’s just a matter of
looking.

In this special episode of the Good Beer Hunting podcast, beer enthusiasts
from around the country explain why for them craft beer still means
friendships, new experiences, and most of all, something cool at a time
when there’s a feeling that it might be anything but.

Brewing is famously a science and an art. There are loads of technical
aspects a skilled brewer should nail down to create something special, but
there’s also a point where you just have to give up some autonomy. Or, at
least accept it’s OK to play a little for some R&D. One of the most
important things people in American craft beer have learned in recent years
is how this also applies to their customers. A diverse menu that may expand
beyond just beer is becoming table stakes and creativity in what kind of
styles and flavor experiences you offer—in or outside of beer—can matter
more than ever. You can control your taplist, but you also have to be
flexible to what you hear and learn from people sitting at your bar.

In this episode, we explore this idea and what it means to grow a business
and expectations with Kevin and Britt Templin of Salt Lake City, Utah’s
Templin Family Brewing, also known simply as TF Brewing. Since opening in
2018, TF Brewing has become known for its lager program, including its
award-winning flagship, Granary kellerbier. The brewery has also earned
recognition at the World Beer Cup, where in 2024 it won gold medals for its
coconut-guava berliner weisse and Squirrel Juicy IPA. There are other
medals from the Great American Beer Festival and WBC, but that hasn’t
stopped Britt, Kevin, and their team from expanding their menu and
listening to what customers are telling them they’re interested in
drinking. The science of their beers has been stellar and the art of
refining what that means for drinkers continues to evolve.

You’ll hear us talk about what it takes to feel OK about making these
changes—which for TF Brewing has included a new wine program and successful
cocktail menu—along with what it means to be a growing brewery in 2024. The
value the Templins place on their staff and how those people help the
brewery succeed is high. By the time this conversation wraps, you’ll have
an understanding of how “family” isn’t just in the name of the business,
but how they want to make people feel. Even in that, there’s a science to
running a brewery that’s a business, but an art to creating a space that
promotes imagination, community, and closeness.

It’s a classic question asked first in a novel, then in music, and often as
a half-joke pop culture reference: Can you go home again? People change
over time, but of course, places do, too. What we’ve previously experienced
in our hometowns and where we grew up can feel distant for a very good
reason. Time and experience changes us all, whether we like it or not. But
in this episode, we’re going to explore what it means to lean into this
question and ask instead, “what does it feel like to be home, again?”

Working through this with me is Trace and Eeva Redmond, a couple who in
recent years took years of experience working in beer and returned to
Eeva’s home town of Petoskey, Michigan where they’ve opened Elder Piper, a
brewery and cidery located along the shores of Little Traverse Bay on the
upper portion of the state’s mitten shape. As brewer, Trace brings brewing
experience that includes stops at Michigan’s Founders and Roak Brewing, as
well as North Carolina’s Highland Brewing. Eeva has worked in a collection
of hospitality and communication roles in beer as well, including positions
at Roak Brewing, Sierra Nevada, and Highland.

Why open a brewery now, at a time when we hear about so many closing?
That’s where we start our conversation, but it leads us to many other ideas
and reflections about what it means to start a business in a city of 6,000,
especially when it’s the place where you grew up. As you’ll hear, community
connection has been pivotal to Eeva and Trace, and their story offers
something of a roadmap of what it takes to launch a new,
neighborhood-focused brewery in today’s market.

West Virginians take a lot of pride in their state. As well they
should—it’s one of the most stunningly gorgeous destinations in the United
States, albeit one that can be hard to get to, thanks to the same
mountainous spectacle that draws people there in the first place.

Matt Kwasniewski is a West Virginia native, as well as the owner and head
brewer of Big Timber Brewing in Elkins, West Virginia. It’s the largest
craft brewery in the state, with an annual output of around 6,000 barrels
last year, positioning them solidly in the “microbrewery” category. He says
that West Virginia’s rural location, small population, and generally blue
collar workforce makes it an unlikely place for craft beer to thrive. But
the state is much more than how it’s defined by outsiders. Kwasniewski has
seen the craft beer industry grow from 10 to around 32 breweries in the
past 10 years, and for residents, that’s a lot.

In this episode, Kwasniewski walks us through the state of West Virginia,
both as a local and as a brewer, and what he wishes more people knew about
the relatively undiscovered Mountain State. For instance, they have some of
the purest water anywhere in the country—ideal for brewing Big Timber beers
like lagers, IPAs, and their award-winning porter that took gold at the
2024 World Beer Cup. He’s not interested in expanding much further than his
home state, and why should he? He wants to be the beer of West Virginia,
and you can hear him explain why and how he plans to do that.

# On Becoming Hawk

Hi there - this is Michael Kiser, founder and publisher of Good Beer
Hunting. I’m coming to you today with a difficult message—but a simple
one.

Good Beer Hunting—after nearly 15 years, and at least 10 of that that I
would consider serious years—is going on a platform-wide sabbatical. It’ll
be indefinite. It might be permanent.

We have some ideas for what the future of Good Beer Hunting might look
like—and soon I’ll be working on that vision with the counsel of my
colleagues to see where it takes us. But the earliest vision is so
drastically different than what GBH currently is, that the only way to get
to the other side is to make a clean break. We’ve got to clear out the
cache. We’ve got to quiet everything down for a bit and see what it all
sounds like on the other side of that silence.

We’re shutting down our various content streams—the podcast, the website,
social—ending a sort of always-on feed of content that’s been, for many of
us writers, editors, and artists, our life’s work. And for most of us, our
best work.

This thing that started as my personal blog would go on to be published in
the annual Best American Food Writing, and win multiple Saveur blog awards
before I had the courage to start publishing other voices beyond my own. It
began as a way to pursue my curiosity for beer, combining the beauty I saw
in it with the strategic implications of a new wave of culture and industry
the world over. Good Beer Hunting came from a simple idea and simpler
execution of a blog and grew into an international publication covering
unique stories from countries all over.

With every major shift, from one editor in chief to another, it would morph
into something that felt beyond any reasonable ambition. Eventually winning
awards from the Society of Professional Journalists, Imbibe Magazine, more
than 100 awards from the North American Guild of Beer Writers, and most
recently nominated for 6 James Beard Awards and winning 3 of them. If I
consider what it would mean for us to achieve something beyond all that,
I’d have to believe in a truly insane fantasy.

In the many years of running a beer publication that took us to the top
echelon of all publications —literally taking podiums next to the New York
Times, Washington Post, and The New Yorker—we’ve had to build and sustain
an organization that simply doesn’t have a roadmap for survival in 2024’s
media landscape. And to be clear, it never did.

From day one, I vowed to not try and make GBH profitable, because the media
world already showed that to achieve profitability was to welcome a certain
kind of death—and often a shameful one. Chasing advertisers and clicks with
listicles and promotions—and as a result, never creating anything of real
value to anyone but the advertisers. It was a fool's errand, and one we
didn’t follow. By not hunting down ad revenue and declining offers over the
years, Good Beer Hunting was able to remain a personal project in a way,
even as our ambitions continually grew and results showed what an impact
our stories and contributors made on the world of beer and beyond.

Instead of trying to manage our costs with advertising, we’ve been able to
form longstanding partnerships with companies like Guinness, which has
helped mitigate at least some of financial losses we took on every year. We
also launched an experimental subscriber community called the Fervent Few,
which took a meaningful chunk out of the debt and paid its dividends by
connecting readers and fans from all over the world during the loneliest
parts of the pandemic. But in reality, even these things combined didn’t
cover the gaps as we continued growing.

The challenge of expanding GBH during its rapid growth phase came from my
own pocket, which kept our editorial team independent and in control. But
it also guided us to this moment. Paying for writers, designers, and
editors was a budget pulled from my own strategic consultancy called Feel
Goods Company, which was no small thing. Each year, the costs sometimes
crested over $100,000 that weren’t covered by underwriting partners like
Guinness or subscribers from the Fervent Few. And in the last couple years,
costs went far beyond that. For years, I put other important things in my
family’s life on hold to continue supporting GBH’s growth and ambitions.

As a father of three kids—and sometimes the only one working—that decision
wasn’t made lightly. I exhausted myself making the consulting business
uncommonly successful in order to keep both things afloat and growing. And
as costly as that was in a financial sense, I’ve never regretted the
decision to do it—and I never took a dime. In fact, there was one year when
we more or less broke even, and with the small amount left over we gave the
editorial team, including our freelancers, a surprise end-of-year bonus.
More like a tip really.

Good Beer Hunting is the longest I’ve ever done anything, and it’s also the
best thing I’ve ever done. And it existed entirely because I wanted it to.

But outside of anything I wanted it to become—my own pride and ambitions
for GBH don’t really compare to the awe I feel when I look at what people
like Austin Ray, Claire Bullen, and Bryan Roth helped it become. Our three
successive Editors in Chief over those 10 years—each of whom shaped a new
generation of Good Beer Hunting into an image that only they could have.
Each of whom provided the shoulders for the next to stand on. And the
countless writers and artists who were drawn to their leadership and the
level of execution in our collective work—who gave us some of their own
best work.

I’m thinking of Kyle Kastranec from Ohio, the first writer other than
myself, who wrote a feature for GBH, setting a high bar. I’m thinking of
Charleston’s own Jamaal Lemon who won a James Beard award for GBH alongside
other winners and nominees like Stephanie Grant, Teresa McCullough, Chelsea
Carrick, and Mark Dredge.

I’m thinking of people like Matthew Curtis, our first editor in the UK who
turned the lights on in an entirely new country for us, and Evan Rail who
kept turning on lights in dozens of countries since as our first
International editor. Emma Janzen, and Ren Laforme who joined our editors
team in the last iteration, rounding out some of the most ambitious and
wide sweeping storytelling we’ve ever produced. Kate Bernot, who leveled up
our news reporting to create an unmatched source of access to explain to
readers why things matter in beer and beverage alcohol, which is now a
growing stand-alone business unit in Sightlines.

What felt like a fluke at first, has become something I can confidently
own. We produced industry-changing, internationally-recognized, and James
Beard Award winning material…consistently.

I’m also often reminded of the smaller things we’ve done—like the blogs and
short stories we wrote—about the politics and personal traumas of the way
we eat, drink, and relate to each other in our families, in our
communities, and against the injustices so many people face in an industry
that’s ancient and profoundly immature at the same time. It’s an unlikely
place for a beer publication to have a voice —but GBH has always built its
scope around the perspectives of the individual souls who occupy space
within it rather than narrowing down a profitable and popular slice of the
beer conversation and reduced them to it.

Mark Spence unpacked his Midwestern anxieties around family and food, Lily
Waite and Holly Regan opened a door to discuss non-binary and transgender
issues,  Jerard Fagerberg and Mark LaFaro took big risks to focus us all on
the dangers and costs of alcoholism, David Jesudason and many others
captured our attention with stories of harassment, racism, labor abuse, and
more that so many readers told us were critical and prescient and more
importantly, helped. These stories helped people.

Over the years, we’ve had readers cry as they recounted what a story meant
to them. We’ve had others scream and curse at us for the same. Some even
went on the record as sources to ensure our reporting had the substance it
needed to make an impact. Careers were started and ended because of the
stories we wrote. Those stories had the same effect on ourselves. We’ve had
writers put something heartbreaking or inspiring into the world only to
have it wake something up in them and want to do more—take even bigger
swings —and find a voice within them that carried them far beyond Good Beer
Hunting.

And ultimately, that’s where my heart is today.

This week, I was struggling to find the words to describe what I was going
to do with Good Beer Hunting—what comes next. I knew what the move was, and
why, and I knew it was time—but I didn’t have the poetry for it—so I
couldn’t quite feel it yet.

On a long drive to rural Michigan to pick up
my son from summer camp, I was listening to an episode of my favorite
podcast, On Being. And I heard Azita Ardakani and Janine Benyus, two
biomimicry specialists who have a way of describing the natural world with
a stunning relevance. They said:

“Life is just so full of vitality and so much ON and being alive and then
it’s not.”

“…What is the difference between something that’s alive and something
that’s not? It seems that with the holding on to life —there’s also a
feeling of once it’s gone, the letting go—like a body breaking down—but it
doesn’t really. I mean, not for long. What happens is a tree falls and
eventually becomes a log. Eventually grows a fungus and you think of it as
breaking down—it is no longer a tree. But then a mouse comes along and it's
the end of the fungus. And that material—thats’ where the reincarnation
comes in —that fungus becomes mouse.

“And then a hawk comes along and the material—that material of that mouse
becomes hawk. There’s this circulation—called metabolism. It’s
catabolism—then it gets anabolized up into a new form. The grief is brief
because transformation happens almost right away—it gets transformed.”

Now, GBH isn’t dying and it’s not wasting away. The truth is it’s still
sort of thriving in its own manner of being. It’s a tree taller than I ever
imagined. But success can kill an organization—I’ve seen it a hundred times
in the companies I’ve worked for, companies I’ve consulted on—big and
small. It’s all proportionate. How far away from the roots does that
beautiful canopy get before it surprises itself with its own extended
weight? How much life force does it expend trying to prop itself up at the
expense of something new?

There’s never an objectively right time—but
there is a good time. A time not informed by reactionary fear and loathing
- but by guts, love, and ambition for something new.

So I’ve decided it’s
time to take the tree down.

If I look back over the past few years I can see that Good Beer Hunting
will be that fallen tree for many. It’ll be a source of nutrients for many
a mouse that becomes hawk.

But the truth is, GBH has been the start of a kind of upward anabolism for
some time now. Jamaal Lemon recently took a dream editors job at the
Institute of Justice. Stephanie Grant has launched her own community
project called The Share. Before that, Matthew Curtis started Pellicle Mag
in the U.K. Lily Waite opened a brewery. So many GBH writers have gone on
to write books, start podcasts, and create platforms of their own, it’s
astounding. And what I’m describing right now isn’t something that started
with GBH—indeed, GBH has been a recipient their upward anabolism from the
lives they’ve lived—each bringing their own energy and nutrients here and
nourished us with lifetimes full of curiosity, learning, and love for their
craft.

The risks in starting something like Good Beer Hunting are myriad.
Financial risk is everywhere—but I’ve happily and defiantly borne the brunt
of it for many years. There’s personal risk—in media, everything you put
out into the world has a way of coming back to you in unexpected, and often
dangerous ways. And it does. There’s opportunity risk—if this thing fails,
and if it takes a long time to fail, what opportunities might you have
missed out on in the meantime? But to me, the biggest risk of all is it
just not mattering. Not being relevant. Missing the mark.
Today, I feel satisfied that Good Beer Hunting matters.

I have so many people to thank—and so many feelings to share that are best
relayed one-on-one. It’ll take me many months and years to pass along those
sentiments to individuals who took that risk with me and succeeded.

I’m not going to the final word on all this.

My experience of GBH is singular—being the sole source of continuity over
those 15 years. But so much of what’s defined GBH have been the
perspectives and voices of those who’ve invested their talents in it over
the years. So before our final sign-off this summer, you’ll hear
reflections from leaders, contributors, partners and friends of Good Beer
Hunting as well. This is part of the grieving and metabolizing process.

There are a few more episodes of the podcast to share still, and a few
remaining stories we’ve been working on that you’ll see this month and
maybe into August. If you want to stay up to date on future plans, sign up
for the newsletter.

This episode—along with all podcast episodes over these many years—was
edited by Jordan Stalling. And it was scored by my friend, soulmate, and
composer, Andrew Thioboldeax, who himself has been along for the ride for
over a decade.

Aim true, pour liberal folks—have a great rest of the year.

The definition of “local” can be quite different when the nearest urban
regions are hundreds of miles away. That’s certainly the case in Jackson,
Wyoming, where (quote-unquote) neighboring cities like Boise, Idaho;
Denver, Colorado; and Bozeman, Montana all require a few hours in the car,
if not on a plane, to get there.

But it’s precisely that sense of remote grandeur that attracts millions of
visitors to the Jackson Hole region every year. Where do they go when they
want a good, local, craft brew? To Snake River Brewing Company, of course,
which is the oldest operating brewery in the state and celebrates 30 years
in business in 2024. In this episode, Snake River’s director of sales and
marketing, Luke Bauer, describes what brought him to Wyoming nearly 20
years ago, and what kept him coming back after working in Texas, Alaska,
and Colorado. In addition to his role at Snake River, he’s also on the
board of the Wyoming Craft Brewers Guild, and shares a first-hand account
of how the state’s craft beer industry has grown, changed, and evolved,
especially post-pandemic.

By his account, Wyoming is a unique place, but also one that’s full of
surprises. He believes there’s a lot more experimentation than outsiders
might initially expect from the local beer scene, and explains the big
differences in style from one side of the state to the other. (Hint: one
side sticks more to traditional or maltier beers, while the other embraces
trendier styles like IPAs.) Snake River Brewing has managed to rack up
awards at the World Beer Cup, including their most recent Bronze medal for
Zonker Stout, as well as at the Great American Beer Festival, and many more
over its 30-year tenure. It goes back to their mission statement: “The
world doesn’t need another beer, but a better beer.” Let’s hear about the
beer and beyond.

We’re squarely in the midst of political season—presidential debates have
begun, campaigning has kicked into high gear, and November elections are
closer than we think. Amongst it all, there’s an adage this episode’s guest
once shared that likely sounds true, whether your a deep-in-the-weeds
politico or fair-weather voter: If you want to make the biggest impact in
politics, you go into business.

Well over a decade ago, Jon Renthrope did just that, opening up Cajun Fire
Brewing in his hometown of New Orleans. Enticed by what he found in the
world of homebrewing, Jon took a degree in politics from the University of
Florida and spun it into a career in beer, which led to the launch of his
brewery 12 years ago. And it’s through his company he’s working to marry
the ideas of community impact with work through local organizations like
The 100 Black Men of Metro New Orleans, as a cultural ambassador, and by
working with the National Black Brewers Association.

In this conversation, you’ll hear Jon talk about what it means to start
Cajun Fire in the place he grew up and deepen already strong roots. He’ll
share how he’s been influenced by family—notably his grandmother—and how
that history lingers today. We also discuss his brewery’s lineup of beer
and why you won’t find an IPA leading the way among Cajun Fire customers.
Jon didn’t go into politics, exactly, but he is using his business in all
kinds of ways to connect and impact people around him.

It's easy to find examples of what success in entrepreneurship looks like.
There are dozens of TV shows, thousands of books, and millions of blog
posts that are meant to share tips, secrets, and let us into the minds of
people who've made it in all kinds of business. But the fact of the matter
is that the only ones who can truly understand what it's like—the many
failures that typically come with a breakout win—are the people who've
taken a leap of faith without any idea of how their attempt to launch a
product or start a business will turn out. You're as likely to be built up
as broken down on this journey.

In this episode, we spend a lot of time talking about entrepreneurship with
my friend, Kristen Sumpter, who co-founded bar and bottleshop Red’s Beer
Garden with her husband, Ed. We’ve gotten to know each other through a
group she co-founded with past podcast guest Sara Kazmer, which includes
several women entrepreneurs who live in the Atlanta area. For almost two
years, I've listened as Kristen has shared the waves of triumphs and
tribulations of building a beloved local hangout.

In our conversation, we explore Kristen's journey from that initial spark
of inspiration to the day-to-day realities of running a successful
business. You’ll hear her talk about the importance of community, embracing
vulnerability, and prioritizing self-care amidst the entrepreneurial
hustle. Kristen also shares how she’s able to show up as her authentic self
on Instagram and how long she’s been obsessed with hot dogs, a staple of
the food menu at Red’s.

Thunderpussy is a band that elicits an immediate, visceral reaction. Even
their NSFW name is unapologetic, brash, and controversial, and that’s
exactly how they like it. The Seattle-based rock band launched in 2014 with
founding members Whitney Petty on guitar and Molly Sides on vocals, and
today, their all-women lineup also includes bassist Leah Julius and
drummers Lindsey Elias and Michelle Nuno. We have Whitney with us on the
podcast to talk about the band’s origins and journey over the past 10
years, which culminated with a collaborative release with Yonder Cider.

Caitlin Braam is the founder and CEO of Yonder Cider and The Source,
Yonder’s sister company that provides custom pressing, juicing, and
fermenting solutions for cideries around the United States. She joins
Whitney to talk about Yonder’s first collaboration with a band—what they
expected, what surprised them, and how the whole thing shook out.
Thunderpussy happens to be the favorite band of Yonder’s head cider maker,
Monique Tribble, and the release was an opportunity for everyone to fangirl
out on one another with delicious results.

You’ll hear about how both women-led groups have strategically avoided
dealing with male energy in their often overpoweringly masculine fields of
music and alcohol, and how even acknowledging that aspect has changed over
the years. Whitney shares her excitement to dive deeper into the world of
cider, and echoes the same joy that I think a lot of new cider drinkers are
surprised to find once they give it a chance. I wouldn’t listen to this
conversation with kids in the room, so grab some headphones, and maybe a
cider, and listen in.

What a long, strange trip it’s been for the Miramar brewing facility that
once housed Ballast Point and, after changing hands more than a few times,
is now the centerpiece of West Coast brewing operations for Athletic
Brewing Company. In this episode of the Gist, lead Sightlines news reporter
Kate Bernot joins me, Beth Demmon, to talk about the United States’ 10th
largest craft brewery’s plans both here and abroad, as well as inflation’s
lingering hold on on-premise brewery sales and the business side of
celebrity alcohol investments.

One quick note: as part of the discussion about off-premise NA beer sales
in the U.S., Kate cites they take up .88 percent of dollar sales. It’s
actually 8.8 percent, so with that in mind, this is the Gist.

Some people know early on they’re destined to be their own boss. Rachael
Hudson is one of these people. She’s the co-owner and head brewer at Pilot
Brewing Company in Charlotte, North Carolina, a small brewery that’s made
big waves in her local scene and beyond since opening in 2018. Since then,
the business has racked up accolades at the Great American Beer Festival,
the US Open Beer Championship, and the North Carolina Brewers Cup
Competition, including being named North Carolina Brewery of the Year for
2023.

But for as nice as the awards are, Rachael says opening a brewery isn’t
about fame (and it’s definitely not about money). It’s more about being an
outlet for her ability and desire to teach curious consumers about what it
is they’re consuming. She’s an Advanced Cicerone who plans to take the
Master exam again later this year, as well as a national and international
beer judge and co-host of the False Bottomed Girls podcast with Master
Cicerone Jen Blair. Needless to say, she knows what she’s talking about,
and she’s passionate about sharing her knowledge with absolutely anyone who
will listen.

In this episode, Rachael shares when and how she knew she had to go into
business for herself and why education is such a critical part of what
Pilot offers to the community. She also talks about her “less is more”
mentality when it comes to recipe development, and how their ESB tends to
outshine even their IPAs. Pilot probably isn’t going to get much bigger,
but that’s not what Rachael wants anyway. She’d rather focus on perfecting
what they put out and keep figuring out ways to show other people that they
too can turn their passion into a profession.

Hillary Barile isn’t sure what she’d call herself first: a farmer or a
maltster. In reality, she’s both, working as a fifth generation farmer at
Rabbit Hill Farms & Malthouse in Shiloh, New Jersey. There, she and members
of her family produce barley and other crops, as well as run a small-scale
malthouse that supplies ingredients for breweries and distilleries. And, as
president of the Craft Maltsters Guild Board of Directors, she works to
educate and grow the craft malt community across North America and beyond.

So why, and how, did she make the jump from farming potatoes to investing
in the agriculture and future of craft malt? It started with homebrewing,
of course, with aspirations of opening a brewery to diversify and solidify
her farm’s finances. But, as she explains in this episode, the business
plan never got that far. As for what’s next, she says the breweries
prioritizing local craft malt can tell unique stories that still reach the
hearts of drinkers, giving them a small, but sufficient shield against
difficult economic forces. We also discuss the many definitions of the word
“sustainable,” and the efforts she’s making to ensure generations to come
will still have the opportunity to nurture the land her family has
cultivated.

Fluffernutter and Oreo Marshmallow pastry stouts. Kettle sours brewed with
"obscene amounts" of fruit. A cream cheese rangoon gose. Depending on your
level of curiosity and adventurousness, these beers may sound exciting or
challenging, but they also have two things in common: They’ve been made by
Colorado’s WeldWerks Brewing and they’re fun beers made with serious
intent.

In this episode, we get into some of the technical ideas, philosophies, and
search for dialed-in joy with Skip Schwartz, WeldWerks’ head brewer and
Neil Fisher, founder and owner of the company. What makes brewing and beer
fun these days? There are lots of answers, and as you’ll hear both explain,
it could be from the never-ending tweaks to make a beer as perfect as
possible or finding ways to connect with new drinkers who would otherwise
turn away from a beer.

Some of the more wild beers created by WeldWerks have gotten attention over
the years, but it’s their flagship hazy IPA, Juicy Bits, that put this
brewery on the map and has allowed WeldWerks to expand into 26 different
markets this year. The runaway success of Juicy Bits has helped the
business gain notoriety beyond Colorado, build out its brewhouse, and set a
goal of modest growth as many companies in craft beer are focused on just
staying flat with their production.

So, maybe you’ve tried some of WeldWerks’ outlandish beers at their taproom
or during a major industry event like the Great American Beer Festival, or
maybe you’ve had their signature IPA and one of its variants. Allow Skip
and Neil to give you some background on what it means to connect with
drinkers today and learn how their approach to beer is setting them up for
2024 and beyond.

What happens when a respected name in wine and spirits tries to make a move
into the beer world? Does their experience translate into a new category,
or do they have to build a reputation from the ground up? Does the beer
industry welcome interlopers, or view them with skepticism and confusion?
And if they’re asking to judge your beer at a new competition, does anyone
show up?

These are all questions I asked myself when I was invited to judge at The
Tasting Alliance’s second ever beer competition in December 2023. I, like
some others in and around beer, had never heard of the group, or only knew
them for their wine and spirits competitions that take place in San
Francisco, New York, and Singapore.

In this episode, I talk to Maddee McDowell, vice president of The Tasting
Alliance and the person who handles the logistical organization of their
beer competition. You’ll hear about what it was like for me to participate
in judging, but also what The Tasting Alliance hopes sets them apart from
other competitions. Maddee shares what the biggest category of entries was
(it’s shockingly not IPAs), some of the differences between running wine
and spirits competitions versus beer, and how they’re trying to build
relationships in the beer community to gain a wider diversity of palates at
the judging table. We also talk about how the competition changed from year
one to two, and how many entries she, somewhat optimistically, hopes to
receive in year three.

The competition doesn’t end once medals are announced, McDowell assures us.
And at the very least, The Tasting Alliance’s experience is another way for
us to better understand competitions and what it takes to make them happen.

You’ve heard the joke—four scientists walk into a bar, and hilarity ensues.
But have you heard the one about a few NASA employees opening a brewery?
It’s not a setup. It’s how True Anomaly Brewing Company in Houston, Texas
actually started, when four friends and homebrewers decided to trade in the
final frontier for a shot at making their own beer.

Michael Duckworth is co-founder and CEO of True Anomaly, which was recently
named Brewery of the Year at the Texas Craft Brewers Cup for the second
year in a row. Now in their sixth year, True Anomaly specializes in making
wild and sour beers, but in a lager-focused state like Texas, they brew
plenty of clean beers as well. They’ve been recognized for both with medal
wins in competitions like the World Beer Cup and Great American Beer
Festival. And now, they’re preparing to open a much larger second location
later this year, which you’ll hear about, and plan to up their output from
around 1,200 barrels to around 2,000 by the end of 2024.

All this begs the question: how did a bunch of NASA nerds pull this off?
Well, according to Michael, the four founders took a methodical, scientific
approach to the business plan and applied an artistic sensibility to making
the beers themselves. Wild beer can be unpredictable, but it’s that freedom
from expectation he says makes each day a fun and unique surprise. In this
episode, he also talks about the potential he sees in the Houston craft
beverage scene, why they implemented inclusivity as part of their
operations from day one, and why you might see an astronaut or two hanging
around the brewery on the weekends.

There’s something special about when talent, vision, and respect are all
wrapped up in a relationship. These attributes can provide people deeper
meaning and drive which make dreams more attainable. Accomplishing a goal
can be daunting on your own, but when you have partners who push you to be
better—and complement each other in meaningful ways—that’s when whole new
opportunities can come to life.

These ideas are at the core of this conversation with three co-founders of
Kansas City’s Vine Street Brewing. The business earned national attention
last year as Missouri’s first-ever black-owned brewery and from day one has
backed it up with beloved beer and offering a space that quickly became a
new and exciting part of the city’s downtown life. Located in the historic
Jazz District of Kansas City, you’ll find all kinds of community
connections stemming from the brewery, from beer collaborations, to music
and film events, and more.

Joining me to talk about what this means are Kemet Coleman, Elliott Ivory,
and Woodie Bonds Jr. Each has taken different paths to this moment, but
their shared connection—whether it be brewing backgrounds with Woodie and
Elliott or Kemet’s ability to bring people together—has allowed Vine Street
to not just grow in its first year, but become a celebrated part of the
Kansas City beer scene. What you’ll hear from them offers a lot of tangible
examples of what it looks like when talent, vision, and respect turn into
something you can see, feel, and taste. And as the trio prepares for their
second year in business, these things also offer them plenty to reflect on
and use as motivation for Vine Street’s future.

“The thicker, the better” sounds like something I would say about my
thighs, but not necessarily about beer. But that’s exactly how Woven Water
Brewing Company describes their infamous “fusion” concoctions, which are
smoothie-style sours with flavors like peanut butter and jelly, banana
split, and peach orange pop ice cream. That’s not all they brew, but this
type of eye-catching beverage is what has put the Tampa brewery on the map
and what owners Jay and Ciara Jones say keep them in business.

In this episode, I chat with both owners, who launched the brewery with
Nicole and Eric Childs in August 2020, and have since assumed complete
ownership. You’ll hear them describe their “adapt or die” mentality, and
why despite Jay’s initial reluctance to brew what some might call “hype”
beers or hard seltzers, they quickly realized it’s what people want to
drink, so why not give it to them? It’s a refreshingly pragmatic approach
to business, and they’re having fun with it, even hosting a tap takeover of
the gloopiest, gloppiest beers from around the country in a celebration
they call Gloop City, which is now in its third year.

But all silliness aside, this conversation is a look at a brewery that was
poised to launch at the start of the pandemic, and what they had to do and
change in order to open in what they believe is the best craft beer scene
in the country. They share what worked, what didn’t, what they would do
differently if they had to do it all over again, and what they hope to
accomplish in the future. Jay and Ciara say they’re investing in a few key
areas: their people, their community, and in their ability to grow and
change. That sounds like a solid plan to me. So, let’s hear about it, right
now.

The idea of “community” comes up a lot in beer. We use “community” to
describe the collection of homebrewers, enthusiasts, brewery employees,
journalists, and more that surround the industry. Many owners position
their taprooms as “community spaces.” This aspect of bringing people
together is one of my favorite parts of beer, but once we’re all gathered,
what else can we do besides enjoy a drink together? Is there a way for us
to make an impact or drive change?

To explore these questions, I’m joined by Dan Reingold, marketing director
at Creature Comforts Brewing, a business that has become a cornerstone of
its local community in Athens, Georgia. Over the past decade, the company
has grown to be much more than a place to enjoy a pint—it's a hub for
community engagement and social good. As one of Creature’s oldest
employees, Dan is able to give us a glimpse of those early days and also
show us what the brewery has been up to lately.

In our conversation, Dan shares the excitement of celebrating Creature
Comforts’ 10th anniversary with the declaration of “Creature Comforts Day.”
You’ll hear about the brewery’s impactful “Get Comfortable” program, which
has led to the business receiving the President's Volunteer Service Award.
Dan also discusses the brewery’s collaborative initiatives with local
institutions like the University of Georgia, and how important it is for
them to use business to address community needs.

There’s something special about when talent, vision, and respect are all wrapped up in a relationship. These attributes can provide people deeper meaning and drive which make dreams more attainable. Accomplishing a goal can be daunting on your own, but when you have partners who push you to be better—and complement each other in meaningful ways—that’s when whole new opportunities can come to life. These ideas are at the core of this conversation with three co-founders of Kansas City’s Vine Street Brewing. The business earned national attention last year as Missouri’s first-ever black-owned brewery and from day one has backed it up with beloved beer and offering a space that quickly became a new and exciting part of the city’s downtown life. Located in the historic Jazz District of Kansas City, you’ll find all kinds of community connections stemming from the brewery, from beer collaborations, to music and film events, and more. Joining me to talk about what this means are Kemet Coleman, Elliott Ivory, and Woodie Bonds Jr. Each has taken different paths to this moment, but their shared connection—whether it be brewing backgrounds with Woodie and Elliott or Kemet’s ability to bring people together—has allowed Vine Street to not just grow in its first year, but become a celebrated part of the Kansas City beer scene. What you’ll hear from them offers a lot of tangible examples of what it looks like when talent, vision, and respect turn into something you can see, feel, and taste. And as the trio prepares for their second year in business, these things also offer them plenty to reflect on and use as motivation for Vine Street’s future.