It Takes a Village

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How quality brews, camaraderie and new legislation are keeping the Twin Cities’ craft beer revolution in full swing

Maybe because of the David vs. Goliath battle between micro and macro beers, small local breweries not only co-exist—they actively work together.

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Ode to Beers

Must-Try Local Brews

By: David Jarnstrom | February 2012 | From the print edition

On one of the last nights of 2011, Boom Island Brewing Company founder Kevin Welch stands transfixed, staring at his very own pair of tap handles at Pig & Fiddle in southwest Minneapolis. It’s a profound moment for the mild-mannered 37-year-old brewer and classically-trained French horn player: The beer he has spent years perfecting is finally going to be unleashed upon a thirsty public.

Showtime. Even though Welch routinely performs with the Minnesota Orchestra, he’s a bundle of nerves. But then the first tulip-shaped glasses are filled with Boom Island’s Belgian-inspired ales and the taps flow uninterrupted for an hour and a half before Welch manages to weave through the crowd to pay his own tab. The room abounds with satisfied smiles—Minneapolis’s newest brewery is met with overwhelming approval. Surly Brewing Company founder and Minnesota Craft Brewer’s Guild president Omar Ansari congratulates Welch on becoming the newest member of an exclusive—yet ever-growing—club.

“Getting closer,” Ansari says to him. “We’ve got two more up there.”

The seemingly endless beer list at Pig & Fiddle reads like an attendance sheet, representing a veritable who’s-who of local brew: Summit, Surly, Rush River, Fulton, Harriet, Lucid. Not present, but approaching ubiquity in gastropubs all over town, are the likes of Flat Earth, Lift Bridge and Steel Toe. Then there are the cozy brewpubs of Town Hall, Great Waters, Herkimer and Barley John’s, as well their chain-restaurant brethren Rock Bottom Brewery and Granite City, which reach out to all corners of the metro area.

Yes, it’s safe to say the Twin Cities craft-beer revolution is in full swing. As the vanguards of the third-wave coffee and slow-food movements have done, area ale artisans are tapping into a consumer base that sports an appreciation for fresh, locally-sourced products (and a disdain for vortex-necked bottles and cold-activated cans). While Schell’s and Summit have been at the helm of the craft brew biz for decades, there’s little doubt that Surly’s meteoric rise to rock-stardom was a watershed moment. As Hüsker Dü and the Replacements shoveled the sidewalk for future musicians, Ansari and Surly head brewer Todd Haug provided evidence that a new generation of Twin Cities brewers could thrive beyond their basements.

DOWNLOAD OUR MAP OF TWIN CITIES BREWERIES.

The increasing number of barley-pop purveyors recals the pre-"big three" (Hamm's, Schmidt and Grain Belt) era of Minnesota's storied brewing past, when breweries serviced distinct communities. Some in this fresh-faced army of entrepreneurs have bounced about the local brewpub scene for years. Others have flown further afield to apprentice at breweries in Montana, Oregon, California or, in Welch’s case, Belgium. A few have even polished their craft at accredited institutions, like the famed Siebel Institute of Technology in Chicago (at 140 years old, it's the oldest brewing school in America). A handful secured loans and now boast shiny new mash tuns, brew kettles and fermentation tanks. Most were forced to bootstrap and get creative—repurposing dairy farm equipment or retrofitting gear from extinct breweries.

Nearly all have deep roots in the region’s strong homebrewing scene, fostered by stalwart suppliers Northern Brewer, Barkingside Co. and Midwest Homebrewing.

“Omar [Ansari] started with a kit from us,” says Jake Keeler, chief operations officer at Northern Brewer. “The Fulton guys, Jason [Sowards] at Harriet, the guys at Steel Toe, Lucid… . Homebrewing has always sort of been the backbone of the craft brew industry.”

Fledgling Twin Cities sud-smiths are fortunate to have access to organizations like the Minnesota Home Brewers Association and the St. Paul Homebrewers Club, as well as top-notch competitions like the annual Upper Mississippi Mashout, which draws upwards of 1,000 entries and is judged by an esteemed panel of certified cicerones (a trademarked title earned by passing a grueling, three-part beer exam). Two of Welch’s flagship Boom Island beers won gold medals at the 2010 and 2011 Mashouts; another landed silver. “Before winning the awards we were planning on [establishing] the brewery, but that added a lot of steam,” Welch says. “To get completely unbiased, big-time feedback was huge validation.”

In years past, a labyrinth of red tape stymied ambitious homebrewers eager to take the next step. Stringent post-Prohibition rules maintained the divisions between alcohol producers, distributors and retailers. While noble in intent, these laws often stunted small business and, ironically, aided the monopolic efforts of beer behemoths like Anheuser-Busch InBev.

Today, this antiquated jurisprudence is falling by the wayside thanks to the concerted efforts of vocal brewers and Minneapolis City Council member Gary Schiff. The 9th Ward representative has repeatedly introduced legislation aimed at easing the burden on small-scale brewers—the most notable being the famed “Surly Bill,” which passed in 2011 and allows for Minnesota beer makers to sell pints at their breweries. Not only did this bill keep Fulton’s crew—who initially entered the market by contract brewing in Wisconsin—in the Twin Cities, it opened the door for Surly to one day realize its highly anticipated $20 million “destination brewery” (a.k.a., Disneyland for craft beer drinkers).

“In good times and bad, people are going to drink beer,” notes Minneapolis mayor (and craft beer booster) R.T. Rybak, whose great-grandfather brewed beer in New Prague in the early 1900s. “One by one, cities big and small lost out to a global beer industry. We’re getting back to brewing beer locally that not only tastes a lot better, but also creates jobs at home.”

But with brands like 612 Brew, Indeed, Pour Decisions and Dangerous Man aiming to launch in the not-too-distant future, is the local brew bubble close to bursting? Statistically speaking, probably not. A year ago, Minnesota was ranked 26th in the country in breweries per capita (with 28), according to research by the Brewers Association, a national organization that promotes independent brewers. Compared to our eastern neighbors, we’ve got a ways to go: Wisconsin ranked 9th with 72 breweries and Michigan was 14th with 85. States like Colorado (118), Washington (123) and Oregon (121) can all easily brew Minnesota under the table (the city of Portland, Ore., alone has more than 40 breweries).

“I’m sure we’ll hit a saturation point sometime,” Rybak says. “But that’s many, many years and millions of kegs away from now.” Welch agrees, citing the fact that craft beer drinkers tend to keep a “portfolio” of beers in their repertoires, supporting many brands rather than remaining loyal to just one or two.

“Part of the joy of craft beers is discovering new beers, finding out where they’re from, finding out the story about the brewery,” Ansari adds. “There’s certainly room for more.”

Also working in emerging brewers’ favor is the level of camaraderie that exists amongst “competitors.” Maybe because of the David vs. Goliath battle between micro and macro beers, small local breweries not only co-exist—they actively work together. They promote each other via social media, and attend one another’s launches and events. Advice and encouragement flow freely and earnestly, just like in their homebrewing days. There’s a steadfast belief that the tide is rising, and with it, all ships.

“It’s a fun industry to be in,” Ansari beams. “We’re all in this business thinking the pie’s going to get bigger. The Rush River guys encouraged me back in 2004 when I was worried about trying to open a brewery after they had. They simply said, 'You know, Omar, it used to be there wasn’t any coffee shops in the Twin Cities outside of the U of M and Uptown—now there’s one at every corner.’”

A brewery on every block, you say? We’ll drink to that.