Midwesterner says think globally, drink locally
Guest post from Jim Pavlik, a freelance writer and home brewer living in Indianapolis. He writes about beer culture, beer business and beer politics on Fridays at Porch Dog.
I make a point of drinking as close to the fermenters as possible whenever I travel out of town. For that matter, I love drinking locally even when I'm home in Indiana. For Marylanders making trips to the heartland, the Circle City (aka Naptown or Indianapolis) has plenty of magnificent offerings -- you are cordially invited to contact me at my blog for recommendations.
My reason for this beer-related locavorism is two-fold. For one, I think that drinking locally adds to the traveling experience. I can, and probably have, had a Miller High Life everywhere I've been. But when I go to St. Louis, you can bet I'll find myself at the Schlafly Bottleworks. I mean, if you want to experience St. Louis, what good is a national brand?
But the second reason is more important. Beer, especially bottle-fermented beer, is a living thing. It changes all the time. Some beers benefit from spending time in a bottle, other beers not so much. Light, turbulence, time: All these and more cause a beer to lose its luster. Hops especially begin to degrade, losing floral and fruit aromas and gaining earthier, more animallike flavors. But really, all the beer flavors are subject to aging once they leave the brewery.
My first experience of how significant the changes can be hit me in Nashville, Tenn., a few years ago. I may date myself when I mention that I was drinking a vanilla cream ale from Market Street Brewery just off Broadway (on Second Avenue, I think). I remember being struck with the novelty of this beer the first time I had drank it a few years before that. It was more cream soda than beer. At this point in my life, I would probably find such a beer cloyingly sweet, but I was just getting interested in adventuresome beers at the time, and a sodalike beer seemed like a great idea. At any rate, upon a second visit, I'd attempted to share the beverage with a traveling companion none too fond of beery beers, but (alas!) it wasn't on tap. The bartender helpfully noted that a nearby liquor store carried the bottled version.
In an attempt to be polite, let's just say that something was lost in translation between draft line and the bottle. And that was in the same city as the brewery! Imagine what stress does to Shiner Bock on its way up from the Lone Star State, or to a Sierra Nevada on its way east across the Continental Divide? I shudder to think.
So again, I toss it out to you. Going to brewpubs will get you one brewer's product close to the line, but what bars in Baltimore offer thirsty travelers a good sampling of local beers?
Photo: stock.xchng
