Dallas as a Craft Beer Town

Something strange has occurred in Dallas during the past year, something not known since the mid-1990s when dot-com money flowed freely and commercial ventures were embraced recklessly and without long-term thought. Dallas is rediscovering craft beer—and making up for lost time in a big way. With no production breweries in Dallas at the beginning of last year, by the end of 2012 at least five are projected to be in full operation.

The last commercial brewery to operate in Dallas proper was the Great Grains Brewery, a terrible operation that mercifully shut down for financial reasons in 2006 over a rather trivial TABC regulation that left it unable to recover. Since that time, Rahr & Sons Brewing (opened 2004) has thrived in Fort Worth and Franconia Brewing (opened 2008) in McKinney but nothing in the Dallas area per se. The only non-chain brewing that has persisted within the city limits has been the Humperdinks brewpub on Greenville Avenue, an orphaned spin-off of the Pacific Northwest-based Big Horn Brewing franchise that went independent a few years ago.

To begin the charge, in October of last year the Deep Ellum Brewing Company became the first craft brewery to open in Dallas in more than five years, setting up in the south end of the Deep Ellum arts district. Owners Scott Frieling and John Reardon hired young brewer Drew Huerter away from the St Louis area, with names such as Schlafly and Mattingly Brewing on his resume. Their first beers have been style-twisting crowd pleasers, a crowd that has regularly mobbed the brewery ever since they opened Saturday tours to the public.

Almost immediately on the heels of Deep Ellum Brewing came Peticolas Brewing, setting up in a small place in an industrial park west of downtown near the Meddlesome Moth. With a legal family legacy in Dallas going back almost as long as there has been a city, Michael Peticolas left a career as a lawyer to pursue his dream of independent brewing. His is a much smaller and more personal operation than Deep Ellum, taking all financial, marketing and brewing responsibilities upon himself and his young family. Peticolas’s first beer was released in January of this year to almost immediate success.

The third in this initial triad to develop throughout the prior year is Lakewood Brewing, who only recently acquired a lease on a site in the White Rock Lake area. Although owner and brewer Wim Bens may have grown up in the Lakewood area of east Dallas, he did so with a Belgian birth certificate and a young enthusiasm for homebrewing. His previews of beers at various promotional events have been excellent, and Lakewood Brewing is expected to be in full production by late spring.

Two newcomers to the Dallas beer scene are also expected to be open later this year. From the common amateur brewing interest of three local friends (Jack Sparks, Brent Thompson and Kat Stevens), Reunion Brewing is born from the coincidence of these three reuniting once again in Dallas for business. Their production brewery is currently under development in west Dallas not too far from Peticolas’ current location.

The second new craft brewery will be Four Corners Brewing of the Oak Cliff area, also the venture of three partners with a shared passion. George Esquivel, Steve Porcari and Greg Leftwich have already hired award-winning veteran brewer John Sims for their operations, and have only recently located a commercial site. With hopes to be open by Labor Day and plans for as many as ten employees their first year, Four Corners may outpace all the rest despite a late start.

To see five production craft breweries sprout within the space of twelve months is simply unprecedented for a city like Dallas, more characteristic of the brewing culture of Austin. Is there room for all these businesses (plus those not yet named) to survive together in our North Texas market? Is the craft beer nature of Dallas truly shifting after all these years, embracing the movement as so many other cities have already? Only time can answer.

Black IPA and What Makes a Beer Style

A rising trend in modern craft brewing today is toward an ill-defined beer known as the black IPA, which breaks down into an American-style IPA brewed with darker malts not out of place in porters and stouts. Beginning with a disclaimer, I am not a fan of this trend as the citrusy, pine-resin bite of domestic hops does not sit well on my palate with the dark-roasted malts used in these beers.

However, many do enjoy this flavor combination, which is why brewers are so keen to rush into this brand-new beer style. But this only begs the question: Is black IPA truly a new style or just a variant of an existing category? What, if anything, defines a craft beer “style” as distinct and official? Can such discrete lines be drawn, or are beer styles a squishy continuum that can accommodate most anything used in a brew kettle?

The categorization of beer styles comes down to just two elements, those being ingredients and tradition. Note that prevalence nor popularity is mentioned at this point; neither should be considered in defining a beer style, especially a brand new one. A new style is a new style, whether brewed by one brewer or adopted across the country. The science of grouping beers into styles should be approached as objectively as the senses can allow.

A beer’s ingredients may seem to be the simple part of this formula, but this element is deceptively complicated. It is easy to enumerate the constituents of a craft beer, and not much more difficult to quantify each in turn. However, modern beer styles have been fairly complete and well-defined for decades now—some for centuries—and wedging a new style into the grid is (and should be) a struggle. If defining new styles were an easy task, we would be left with thousands instead of the hundred or so recognized today.

For example, the black IPA has ingredients that are distinct from the American IPA as well as ingredients that are separate from the robust porter, but does that meet the threshold of a new style? Does the flavor profile of the black IPA reside within one of these other styles? Might it be considered a hoppy porter instead, or an off-style mistake that is too dark to judge within the existing IPA guidelines? If “dark” makes a new IPA style, does “light” do the same if using pale pilsner malts? This latter equivalence should hold for both or neither.

More important than the actual ingredients is the tradition surrounding the beer itself. In this sense, popularity does matter but not in the same way as in modern beer-rating website status. Instead, tradition implies a regional origin and prevalence, something identifiable with a particular locale either for cultural or societal reasons. Does a beer have a unique backstory, or does it exist due to some exceptional local demand from consumers? Does the beer stand the test of time, or will the black IPA fade out of our consciousness in a few years?

This last criterion is probably the most critical, and what will ultimately determine if the nascent black IPA style is to be formally recognized. Like adopting words into the English lexicon or scientists evaluating new species, these professionals must make sure that new changes have some true and meaningful persistence, and not minor blips that fade into obscurity within a few years. If it does just this, the black IPA will be remembered as merely a twist on an existing beer style, not something distinct unto itself.

Without splitting hairs to the degree of substyles, varietals and the unending permutations that can be achieved with both classic and modern beer recipes, we must conclude that the black IPA is not a new and distinct beer style—at least, not yet. This subcategory of beer styles will have to be debated by both the brewing and consuming communities, and only years from now can the stylistic determination be made.

Update: Just this past January, the Brewers Association updated their 2011 guidelines to include the American-style Black Ale, but this has not yet been universally adopted.

Writing About Beer

A few recent comments and feedback received through this website have made accusations about me hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet for my unsupportable attacks against innocent craft brewers. Of course, I find such comments almost comical as I have never made any attempts to hide my identity or contact information, which are both easily available through some competent navigation of this page.

However, these objections do raise a somewhat valid point about beer-related content that is published online. With the advent of free blogs, blogging software and online social media, we find ourselves now saturated with craft beer content on all levels—the good and the bad, the interesting and the tedious and the ignorant, those we agree with and those we rail against. How should craft beer consumers choose whose efforts to spend time reading?

The first and primary requirement should not be about the brewing-centric content at all but about the quality of the writing. Craft beer consumers are quick to discount beers brewed with obvious flaws, or even those they simply consider mundane, yet week after week eagerly follow some absolutely horrible compositions that get posted online. The written language may be a dying art in our modern age, but it is still a skill to be practiced and perfected. Demand at least the same level of proficiency from your reading material as you would your own food and drink.

Another requirement of online substance should be originality. This online medium has made it too easy to repost and link to other meta-content rather than working to create one’s own. Too many beer blogs are not blogs at all but rather collections of connections to other material online, some news items and some of other beer blogs, and some not related to the brewing industry at all. A proper publication (even those online) should have a focus, and should be more than rambling content. If you demand original and distinctive in your craft beer choices, demand the same in your craft beer reading.

Naturally, those writing about craft beer should have at least some working knowledge of the brewing process, some knowledge of the industry and relevant ordinances, and some knowledge of how to properly evaluate the final product. Experts and amateurs alike find voices in online outlets, and both coexist on a stage that levels the grounds for the known and the unknown. Just as some extremely learned professional brewers are unable to compose a simple thesis, you also have talented amateurs that may never have entered a homebrew shop.

Perhaps the most problematic requirement regarding writing about beer is in its evaluation, as this seems the most widely prevalent theme chosen while being the most resistant to objective quantification. Many websites have sprouted that allow even casual users to compose a few lines about particular beers, and many participants choose to go beyond this and construct diaries online to journal their tasting notes. And when everyone’s palate and preferences are wide-ranging, how does one evaluate the evaluators?

Independent style guidelines do exist that are written and moderated by experienced committees both amateur and professional, and these are good as a starting point and as references. Ultimately, the value of someone’s craft beer review lies in their ability to adequately identify the ingredients, convey the flavors they can detect and support their impressions of said beer. A good evaluation should be less about whether you concur with the assessment and more about whether the author has effectively analyzed the beverage and effectually communicated that impression to the reader.

Whatever you choose to read online, regard it as intellectual consumption the same as popping a cap on a craft beer bottle is gastronomic consumption. The goal should not be to always read substance you agree with but instead authors that make you think and extend your opinion, understanding and appreciation of the world that is craft beer. And if you happen to learn something along the way, you are so much the better for it.

Is Stone Brewing Still Worthy?

If you are like thousands of other craft beer fans, your tastes will likely have passed through the revelation of Stone Brewing’s beers along the way to forming your beer identity. You most likely remember your first taste of Stone’s Arrogant Bastard Ale—possibly your first exposure to beer beyond the light lagers of the majors—and its reckless use of hops and strength as they assaulted your palate onto the next level.

Stone entered the nascent craft beer movement with a big splash in 1996 with their rebellious image, the omnipresent gargoyle icon filled with disdain and a chant of “You’re Not Worthy” emblazoned on every bottle. They made their mark mocking the “fizzy yellow beers” by shunning adjuncts and making some style-defying products, most of which pushed the boundaries of flavors with a newfound brashness in brewing and earned for them legions of eager craft beer fans.

Now almost fifteen years forward, look back on their works of the past decade and a half. Their core products are still among the best-reviewed and most-favored in the craft beer world. Beers like the Stone Pale ale, IPA and Ruination, the Smoked Porter, Imperial Russian Stout and Old Guardian Barley Wine stand out as excellent representatives of each of their respective styles. Of these listed here, I am still a huge fan and regular consumer.

However, look across at some of their “edgy” product ideas such as the Vertical Epic series, which has met with only lukewarm critical response. Designed as a dozen-beer series to be collected, aged and enjoyed at the end of those twelve years, some have been quality stand-outs but with many of these not nearly as good as anticipated, bordering on mediocre. This latter group certainly will not improve with time, much less age well enough to make the end of the series as intended.

Even some of their “new” products are not truly new, much less innovative. Arrogant Bastard has been oaked. The Double Bastard Ale is almost by definition merely a doubling of the original Arrogant Bastard recipe. Stone Ruination is nothing more than a re-issue of their Fifth Anniversary Ale, formulated as a year-round product. Even their newest releases of the Stone Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale and the Stone Cali-Belgique IPA are reworks of their Eleventh Anniversary Ale and one of the Vertical Epic editions, respectively. Just about the only original standout of the past decade has been the Stone Levitation, a mild amber ale.

The latest sign of trouble comes just recently with an announcement of their “Odd Beers for Odd Years” series. Stone plans to vary the yeast in two solid flagship products, the Old Guardian Barley Wine and Russian Imperial Stout, releasing specialized versions of each in odd-numbered years going forward. Although in some cases such experimentation can be viewed as innovative and progressive, a move such as this that displaces two highly in-demand beers comes across as almost desperate—especially in light of the lack of other original ideas.

More than facing problems simply with the origins of new beers, Stone suffers from a tremendous house flavor. Breweries often become accustomed to using the same ingredients from the same suppliers, and many maintain a particular favored yeast strain used as a base for most if not all of their products. If not careful with recipe formulations, breweries can inadvertently develop the same flavors throughout their product lines no matter the individual style of beer.

Unfortunately, Stone has fallen into the trap of house flavor not only with brewing but also with their thinking and business practices. Their rebellious new beers come across with flavors not innovative and desirable but that are yawningly familiar variations upon an often-abused theme of “extreme brewing” while searching for some sort of style identity. All I am able to taste recently are tinkering experiments with the Arrogant Bastard base recipe that are wholly uninspired and unoriginal.

Stone may have been “extreme” early in their history but as the rest of the craft beer industry has caught up (if not passed them by), Stone has remained static while resting on the same business formula with which they started years ago. Their image has become dated and self-mocking, and their talents have become a creative shadow of the bad boys of brewing they once claimed to be.

The Austin Brewing Phenomenon

Amid a tee-shirt emblazoned mantra of “Keep Austin Weird,” the Texas state capitol has worked to maintain its local flavor and attitude. For decades, I have watched the town grow from a barely-city positioned as a quaint, convenient college-and-government town into an almost-metropolis struggling to keep its liberal, indie identity within the corporate influx and urban sprawl.

Likewise, I have seen Austin beer ebb and flow yet always lead the state in craft brewing. With a natural water composition that chemically favors brewing, the area has attracted national and international attention from brewers, with no less than the legendary Pierre Celis once brewing here. And the local population has eagerly and thirstily embraced them all.

But something new is in the wind these days in Austin, the likes of which have not been seen since the dot-com bubble of the late 1990s. This summer saw the opening of two new microbreweries in addition to the existing three (four if you count nearby Real Ale Brewing in Blanco) that have been operating for years now. And as of the time of this writing, at least that many more are under development for 2011.

With well-established breweries Live Oak Brewing and Independence, along with sophomore effort (512) Brewing, this summer saw Thirsty Planet Brewing and Jester King Craft Brewery open, with Kreuz Creek Brewing and Hops & Grain still pending. Next year should see Circle Brewing and South Austin Brewing open, and at least a half dozen more ventures are still toying with the concept. These places are popping up like weeds; if you hear of still more new brewers, please let me know.

So what has spurred this stampede of new brewers, and why now? And why Austin? Is there something unique to the area that is missing from the rest of the state? Of course, the larger unstated question that looms on the horizon is can a city of only three-quarters of a million people support six, eight, or ten microbreweries when much larger markets like Dallas/Fort Worth or Houston struggle to keep even one open?

A healthy Texas economy has been a factor for many years now, with Austin providing a high-tech boomtown and major university that attracts residents (i.e., thirsty consumers) from around the United States, especially the beer-thirsty West Coast. Golden State residents find the Hill Country’s liberal nature and lush outdoorsmanship in the middle of conservative Texas a natural environment, and the relative living expenses are equally attractive.

However, the underlying factor to the demand and ultimate success of Austin beer lies in the nature of Austinites themselves. Residents of our capitol tend to be fiercely loyal to local brands and wary of corporate products, as well as being heavily vested in the Slow Food movement—of which, as I have always maintained, craft beer is a healthy segment.

Along with brewers also come the writers and bloggers these days, with several Austin locals establishing themselves as the witnesses to the movement. Chris Troutman of Beertown Austin (who produces some great vblogs with craft brewers) says this:

People in Austin love to latch on to local products and producers. Like Portland and Boulder, Austin is a granola town, and something about the ‘rawness’ and ‘earthiness’ of beer really appeals to the market here. Of the new brewers coming on the scene we have guys brewing with rain water, reclaiming spent grains for dog biscuits, attempting to go 100% organic, and you can’t talk to any new brewer without the subject of the environmental friendliness of cans coming up.

Can a town like Austin support a dozen independent brewers? Remarkably, unlike almost any other locale in the Lone Star State, I believe they can. This is not a group of overnight millionaires from the Internet playing with beer, and the craft beer movement is no longer merely a novelty waiting to pass. Austin is uniquely a beer city, and they are about to enter another Golden Age.