Ode to Beers

Love letters from our writers to three classic Minnesota brews

Schell’s was making craft beer before it was even called craft beer. The company turned 150 years old in 2010 and it is the second-oldest family-run brewery in America.

Image credit: METRO

Recommended by the Editor

It Takes a Village

Beer 101

By: Dana Raidt, Chris Clayton and David Jarnstrom |   February 2012   |  From the print edition

Schells, by David Jarnstrom

Ten reasons why Schell’s is cooler than you think it is:

1. Schell’s was making craft beer before it was even called craft beer.

2. The company turned 150 years old in 2010 and it is the second-oldest family-run brewery in America (behind Yuengling in Pennsylvania), surviving Prohibition, both World Wars and the Sioux freaking Uprising. That’s cred.

3. Schell’s flagship Deer Brand Beer is better, and more affordable, than most easy-drinking lagers on the market. Bonus: collect all the retro labels!

4. Founder August Schell was born in 1828 in the heart of the Bavarian Black Forest, known as the “Schwarzwald” in Germany. Sounds pretty metal to me.

5. Third-generation owner (and music fan) Ted Marti sponsored a brass-and-drums oom-pah outfit called the Schell’s Hobo Band in 1948. The Hobos are still sponsored by Schell’s to this day, and were inducted into the Minnesota Music Hall Of Fame in 1995.  

6. Schell’s Pilsner is an exceptional beer. Seriously. This baby has won several medals at the Great American Beer Festival, which—last I checked—is a pretty big deal. Get it on tap at Moto-i in Uptown to complement the addictive-as-crack steamed buns.

7. Bock Fest, the brewery’s annual February celebration. Pro tip: It’s best to go to Bock Fest in your early 20s on a party bus. At this age, your constitution can handle starting the drinking day at 8 a.m. Once at the gorgeous New Ulm brewery, you’ll imbibe outside, hear “Ring Of Fire” performed by a polka band every half-hour, rely on schnitzel for sustenance, wander drunk in the woods and witness your friends’ behavior degenerate into utter depravity. Good times.

8. The seasonal Snowstorm beer allows the Schell’s brew crew to let their hair down. The recipe is different every winter—and sometimes the company hits on something so killer, it adds it to the permanent collection (a la 1999’s feisty FireBrick concoction).

9. You might see peacocks roaming around the brewery if you stop by for a visit. The great Hunter S. Thompson had peacocks roaming around his compound, too. Just sayin’.

10. Schell’s saved Grain Belt. ’Nuff said. 

Grain Belt Premium, by Dana Raidt

Somewhere between the hop-snobs and the swill-guzzlers lies a forgotten middle class of beer drinkers. These people, myself among them, certainly appreciate a fancy brew. However, should the occasion present itself, they’re equally happy slamming a can of whatever’s watery, domestic and available. Quality of the beer is important, but not imperative, to the quality of the drinking experience. I could see how this philosophy might be perceived (namely, as alcoholism). But it isn’t that my beer brethren and I drink without regard for taste. And, thanks to Minnesota’s beloved Grain Belt brand, we don’t have to.

From the Minneapolis Brewing Company’s early 20th-century heyday in Northeast Minneapolis to the brand’s 2002 acquisition by the New Ulm-based August Schell Brewing Company (and now as we head full-speed into the 2010s), Grain Belt drinkers have been devoted—and pragmatic—customers whose faces reflect the nooks and crannies of Twin Cities culture: dive-bar regulars, Eastern European immigrants, working-class dads, college students, blue-collar pseudo-hipsters. Just regular people drinking regular beer. A pint of this crisp, slightly sweet lager is as comforting and homey as the iconic Grain Belt sign that overlooks Hennepin Avenue. It’s also versatile, pairing just as well with a painstakingly prepared five-course meal as it does with a backyard barbecue spread—or the enormous plate of tater tots you just drunkenly ordered at Grumpy’s.

As is the case with so many Minnesotan icons, I know Grain Belt isn’t the best beer in the world. I’m not ignorant. But I’ll be damned if a bottle of Premium isn’t the most dependable, tasty and affordable way to cure what ails you—and, perhaps more importantly, to wash down that pile of tots.

Summit Pale Ale, by Chris Clayton

It’s a great social leveler. It tastes best out of a plastic cup at Target Field. It’s always there for you, even in crummy dives with otherwise-awful tap selections. It’s as “St. Paul” as the Winter Carnival. It fits in at keggers and cocktail parties. It’s not Minnesota’s best beer, but it’s our best good beer, and that’s high praise given that good beer is all you really want 99 percent of the time (try drinking more than one Surly Furious and you’ll catch our drift). It tastes like fresh bread and lemons. And minerals—if that’s even possible. Its best friend is a slice of sharp cheddar cheese. Beer-snobs drink it but claim they don’t. Your grandma drinks it when there’s no brandy around. If you grew up in the Twin Cities, it was probably the first beer you enjoyed legally (the kids prefer Grain Belt). Therefore, it also tastes like nostalgia and yearning and the 7th Street Entry. It’s your fishing beer, your barbecue beer and your I-just-feel-like-having-a-beer beer. In a world of inexplicable chaos, it’s a steady, easy-drinking reminder that simplicity is the goal. And for that we say, “Thank you, Summit EPA. Thank you very much.”