Cracking one open
Much like getting married or buying a house, opening a quart-sized can of beer is a commitment. You have to be prepared to follow through for the long haul.
Early in my vacation we headed up to Rice Lake for a few days for my son, Alex, to take part in a curling camp. It was an interesting experience to go from hazy, muggy, oppressively hot weather outside to coming inside to see kids roaming around with stocking caps and heavy sweatshirts.
With a few hours to kill before his camp started and my wife holed up in our motel room attending a virtual conference, Alex and I did some exploring in the area. Whenever I visit a new place, I like to explore and see what is there.
We eventually made our way to a microbrewery located in a repurposed grain mill in a tucked away corner of the downtown. The person who organized the camp tipped us off to it as being among the newest attractions.
While a few minutes away from their official opening time, they had a sign out front promising cold beer inside and the door was unlocked so we ducked out of the heat into the cool shade of the tasting room with its rough-hewn timber walls and industrial feel. I found it promising that the place didn’t reek of hops. There is a disturbing trend among many of the more pretentious brewers that if a little bit of hops is good, a truckload is better. Fortunately that wasn’t the case with our stop.
Their brewmaster was busy pressure-washing the shiny brewing equipment. We later learned that he had just completed putting his newest creation on tap and was cleaning up from that. His business partner was busy working on updating the menu boards showing what was on tap that day.
Alex got a tall glass of tap rootbeer while I sampled some of the stouts they had on tap and talked with the owners. I learned that they had been open only a month at that point and was well on my way to getting into fullblown reporter interview mode, when Alex reminded me that I was 1) on vacation and 2) not in Taylor County.
Alex and I did get to help come up with the name of the newly tapped hazy IPA which had definite grassy tones from the variety of the hops they used, which was pretty cool.
As we left, I made a point of getting a couple “crowlers” to bring home. One as a gift to my friend who was watching Kiko the cowardly dog for us and the other to enjoy at some point. For those unfamiliar with them, crowlers are quart-sized cans which are filled and sealed up at tap rooms allowing you to take them home. The challenge being that unlike resealable growlers, once you crack open a crowler you are all-in and committed to being there for the duration.
I brought my crowler of beer back home and put it in the refrigerator to enjoy when the time was right. The brewmaster said it would keep that way for at least a few weeks.
The remainder of my vacation was pretty uneventful with efforts to just relax as much as possible and spend time with my family before we start the hustle and bustle of a new school year. In between the rainclouds, I got some golf in, caught a Brewers game and started some batches of my own beer for this fall. On Friday evening as the sky was growing dim at the tail-end of my vacation, I made the leap and cracked open my Agonic Brewing Company Goodnight Mercury Stout and while kicking back and reading with the crackle of a nearby campfire keeping me company.
All things considered, there are worse ways than savoring a good beer to mark both the beginning and end of a vacation.
Brian Wilson is News Editor at The Star News.
