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The Session #111: Round Up (Part 2)

June 30, 2016 · by Oliver Gray

I apologize thoroughly to the writers I left hanging by delaying this second part of the Session round-up. Like I said on Twitter, I have lots of excuses, but none of them are very good, so I’ll just say I’m sorry.

Anyway!

Quick recap: Inundated by politics and petty internet squabbles, beer had me feeling lower than lager yeast. I asked the internet if it was just me, or a larger trend. A bunch of people in the first round-up seemed to think it was just me, but what say the other bloggers?

Tom Bedell, beer and golf enthusiast extraordinaire, writes about his own early beer-life crisis and run in with the dread pirate Ralph Lauren, which lead to him taking off his beer writing hat for some time. A bit like me, he thought the sickness ran a little deeper, affecting his wont to write at all. The good news though, is that he never stopped drinking…er…”researching” beer, as the passion that was temporarily sucked out of his pen, never seemed to get sucked out of his glass. Unlike us whiny millennials, Tom’s got the luxury of perspective to help keep him grounded:

“I have a long view, after all, and remember when things were at a nadir. I’m far from jaded about the existing profusion of choice, although also unlikely to be bedazzled by the next new thing.”

He closes with some musing about being a specialist or generalist, something I think a lot of niche writers struggle with. It’s good to see Tom finding his stride though (he’s writing a book!), as it gives me hope that I’ll find mine. The last line of his post might be the best line of all the entries (no offense to the other wonderful writers), as it speaks to why beer matters, or should matter, or shouldn’t be a chore:

“I find beer more enjoyable placed in a wider context, where it engages, or blends in, with more aspects of one’s endeavors, interests and enthusiasms. I suspect if I ever tire of beer in that sense, then I’ll be tired of life.”

Friend of the program, Doug Smiley, came out of beer blogging retirement to answer my cry for existential help. He describes his own tendency to go all-in on a topic, until he’s had his fill, at which point he quits cold-turkey. That’s not how my brain functions, but I know other people a lot like Doug, and I respect ones ability to know exactly what you want for how long you want it, because the flip side is holding onto worthless stuff and feeling bad that you can’t let go of it. Doug describes the come-down from his beer binge, explaining how he used to keep up with blogs and news site until he realized that a vast majority of it was repetitious and shallow. I can’t disagree with that (seriously, no more articles about cans please please please). I do, however, disagree with the idea that it’s not the writers, but the topic that’s limited:

“And it’s not necessarily a case of the people writing about this stuff being bad writers it’s just that the topic is limited. Salsa bloggers would have the same issue. Maybe we should all take our cue from the Salsa blogosphere and ask ourselves if we really need daily coverage of a food stuff?”

I think this is a matter of lazy or unadventurous writers coupled with publications that won’t take a risk on any article that won’t generate clicks, more so than beer being limited. There are outlets producing wonderful, well researched and written beer stories, but those get lost in the sea of listicles and fluff. Tom Bedell’s quote above resonates with how broad beer can be, with the right context and the right writer. Oh god I just said can. It’s happening to me too.

Regardless, I appreciate Doug’s honesty and candid approach. I think he’s right that we’ve gotten a little carried away with romancing the hops, and that some (most?) people don’t need sociological or scientific analysis to drink and enjoy their beer.

The next entry comes from Draft Magazine, which is awesome in and of itself. Zach Fowle answered my question with a resounding “no, it’s not the industry, it’s you,” suggesting what I was feeling was a “natural stage in the life cycle of a beer geek.” The rest of his piece cleverly outlines the stages, and what one might experience at each stage, which is a great idea and something I really wish I had written. The four stages, Birth, Adolescence, The Crisis (me), and Maturity, are pretty damn apt, and you should really just pop on over to Draft to read the whole thing yourself.

My favorite line, which speaks to this topic directly, comes from The Crisis phase:

“I think you have to approach beer differently. You have to rekindle the love of beer by reevaluating what excites you about it, and generally that’s not driving across state lines to try a few sips of draft-only, no-growler whalez.”

My Montana buddy Alan offers his own mini re-cap of the Session to kick off his exploration of beer burnout. He’s not having a crisis, he says, but admits that he needed a break from writing about beer. I like the idea, as I’ve always found breaks useful, too – a day or two off from running rejuvenates, a day or two off learning a new piece of music somehow helps the melody sink further into your brain. In typical Oliver style, I had over analyzed my sagging enthusiasm, and probably gave it more credence than it deserved, but Alan set me right:

“It’s not so much a midlife crisis as a useful pause. Somewhere in converting from “fan-boy” to knowledgeable, objective observer, there are many choices to be made about how to continue writing about beer.”

Alan goes on to explain that his understanding of beer has changed dramatically since he first started his journey in the 1990s. Which makes sense, because the whole industry has changed, too. His new perspective of the importance of simple quality over hype has brought him back around to writing about beer, and he hopes his readers will respect that his time off will lead to better writing. He’s also looking for help nailing the Belgian character in his homebrew, which leads me to…

…the Belgiany and phenolic Chris Barnes of I Think About Beer! He describes his own issues with the culture that drag his optimism through the mud, mainly cynicism and entitlement (of which, there is way too much to go around in the beer community). I think a lot of my own disillusionment came from interactions with the type of people who would rather condescend than converse, so it’s nice to hear that I’m not the only rampant optimist annoyed by those hop garblers. Chris goes on to describe the niche he found as he settled into consistent writing, and how that niche presented him with some wonderful opportunities, personally and vocationally. He echoes a lot of what other people have said in his closing advice:

“To me, it’s less about each individual beer but what that beer led me to: friends, community, and passion.”

Dave, of AnnArborBeer.com, opens his post with Sam Calagione’s “99 percent asshole-free” quote (which I should also note Alan used, and disagreed with too), but suggests it might need updating:

“Craft beer’s exponentially increasing popularity has brought a host of new people into the fold, and when one takes a look at the larger beer community these days, one has reason to suspect that Calagione’s estimate may need to be adjusted downward.”

His take, which he worries borders on curmudgeon status (I don’t think it does), is a refreshingly honest and candid tirade about how silly a lot of beer trends are. His break down laments the sameness of a lot of “fad beers” and a community who routinely puts rarity and novelty over quality and heritage. Dave and I share at least one of these beliefs: beer is made for drinking, not storing or coveting or using to boost one’s ego:

“All those pictures of your Founders KBS bottles or Alchemist Heady Topper cans you post to Facebook groups? No one cares. It’s beer, not a status symbol.”

Dave’s piece seems to be touching on another common thread: a lot of beer burnout comes from dealing with the worst kinds of people in the community. He worries it’s him (as I did), but maybe, just maybe, it’s actually them. If so, overcoming boils down to having a thicken online skin or rising above the less savory people that will inevitably join the industry as it gets more popular. Either way, Dave, I don’t think you’re an old grouch, and even if you are, I’m starting to think curmudgeon is a synonym for wisdom, not bitterness.

The last entry in this Session comes from Derrick Peterman, of Ramblings of a Beer Runner. He opens with an admission that he’s been through an actual real life crisis, one he couldn’t even resolve with an expensive sports car. He segues into a discussion of the natural waxing and waning of enthusiasm for things you love, in his case, running. I run too, and can very much relate with the off and on love affair of destroying one’s knees while improving one’s heart. Derrick’s description of running (and how even with enhancements in shoes and tech, remains pure and simple) draws a whimsical parallel for my love of the basics of beer:

“the sport still retains it’s simplicity of putting one foot in front of the other and repeating this over and over again to propel yourself as fast as you can over some distance.”

Ultimately, despite any crises or slight down turns in energy, he finds talking to brewers and developing an understanding of the complicated reality of beer as a business drives him and keeps him motivated. I can get behind that idea.

So I understand why lots of people, possibly including our host Oliver, might find themselves less committed to beer than they used too. And that’s OK. But as for me, just like running, my relationship with beer is constantly changing, but has never been stronger.

I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to this iteration of the Session, and apologize again for taking so long to finish my recap. I plan to participate in Boak and Bailey’s 113th Session tomorrow, as the topic is equal parts investigatory and voyeuristic. You should join in too!

The Session #111: Round Up (Part 1)

May 18, 2016 · by Oliver Gray

(Preamble: if the Session continues to stick around for a while, I think the submission period should be a week [first Friday of the month to second Friday of the month]. I got a lot of great entries well after the Friday deadline. 2 cents.)

I suppose I should have been a little clearer in my description of the Session topic. I wasn’t (as Stan Hieronymus hinted at) experiencing an actual mid-life crisis with existential meltdowns and brightly colored Corvettes. I’m only 30, and my life is pretty damn good. It was more a mid-hobby crisis. Fortunately, it seemed a topic lots of people wanted to discuss, and lead to some very thought provoking posts.

The good news: aside from a few outliers, pretty much everyone responded with, “It’s not beer, it’s you, Oliver. Get over it or get out of it.” It’s reassuring to hear, as it means the industry isn’t collapsing under its own weight, as I had oh so hyperbolically thought. It’s also reassuring on a personal level, as it means my own beer writing salvation is but some time and introspection away.

But I digress. Back to the matter at hand. We had sixteen (16!) entries this month. I did my best to corral all the entries from the different media streams, but my apologies if I missed you. Shoot me an email or tweet if I did, and I’ll amend the recap.

I’m also splitting this into two posts, as each roundup ran nearly ~1500 words and I don’t want to kill people with walls of text. Here we go!

Boak and Bailey, our blogger friends from across the pond, responded first, describing their version of lagging beer interest as a “Wobble” (with some excellent use of Willy Wonka lyrics to open). Despite being jaded, they weathered the wobble, and found their enthusiasm for the drink and industry revitalized. To those feeling wubbly or wibbly or wobbly, they suggest one of two courses of action: 1) “Leave the learning and exploring phase and enter steady state” (read: enjoy your beer and the fact that you know too much about it peacefully) or 2) “Embrace the mania fully” (and be “that” beer guy). I won’t deny the appeal of the first, but the second seems far more fulfilling, if a tad more annoying to your friends and family.

In what I believe is a Session first, Michael Kiser of Good Beer Hunting chimed in. Mr. Kiser flattered me enormously (yay!) but then directly disagreed with my assessment of the state of the beer union (boo! just kidding). He goes on to describe himself as ripe for an aforementioned actual mid-life crisis, but feels beer has been his agua de vida in ways, and his connections to the people that define the future of the industry are what keep him excited. An anecdote from the Craft Brewers Conference showed a natural juxtaposition between those who view new breweries as competition, and those who seem them as opportunity. As writers, we are the latter, and if Michael taught me anything here, it’s that I should ignore the political industry noise and embrace the new people and perspectives: “when they look across the tap lineup at their neighborhood bar, they don’t see AB or MillerCoors. They see you.”

On that note, Tom Cizauskas of “Yours for Good Fermentables” wrote a post titled simply: “Enjoy the beer, forget the hype.” Tom got this idea rolling early, with a comment on Alan McLeod’s reaction to my initial Session announcement:

“There’s beer as a business; beer as tax revenue; beer as science and technology; beer as one (small) study point in history; beer as an alcohol delivery system; beer as a diverting avocation. Each except the last is specific to a limited concern. A loss of interest in the last calls for a new hobby. There’s little semiotic about it.”

I want to thank Tom, as this is something I really needed to hear. I have a tendency to over-analyze and over-internalize, seeking meaning and the resulting epiphanies constantly, even where there might not be any. Especially related to those things I’m most passionate about. In his post, Tom encourages us to assuage our ennui by letting go – of “craft” and solipsistic declarations of identity – and instead “meditate on the joyful pleasure implied by the simple phrase: “Let’s go grab a beer.”” This is good advice that I plan to follow.

In his expected form, Alan McLeod gave us a post with a touch of history and some great insight, including this, which hit home for me:

“Good beer writing should be directly dependent on an interest in beer and brewing. But there seems, if social media reporting on tavern and bar attendance at #CBC16 is anything to go by, to be the idea that a commitment to daily strong drink is a requirement as well. Why is that?”

I find myself drinking much less these days, and if my thinking is aligned with that implied in Alan’s quote, perhaps that explains my disconnected feeling. But he makes a good point. You don’t need to be a lush to write about beer. In fact, clearer heads probably lead to better writing. He goes on to suggest that beer writing has been pigeon-holed and “framed too narrowly.” I can’t disagree. His closing is wonderful advice for any beer writer, from newbie to veteran:

“Once you realize that you do not need to join the herd, you may see there is so much more to explore. Once you realize so much of what’s touted in the glass is overpriced yawn water you can detach yourself from the need to impress – or be impressed – and explore this massively rich but still largely untouched seam of human experience, the lode of beer and brewing.”

+100 internet points to Bryan Roth for being the only other blogger than me to use Lionel Richie lyrics in his Session post title. Given some time to digest the other entries first, Bryan noted how he’s actually feeling great about his place in the beer world, finally realizing that his remote pipe-dream of being a functioning member of the industry is now, some years later, a very near reality. He echoes Michael Kiser’s comments about 2000 new breweries meaning 2000 new opportunities to meet new people and see new places, and more and more space to grow and write about they myriad aspects of beer. Bryan is a perfect example of Boak and Bailey’s advice to embrace the mania. I dig it.

The Beer Nut (the special Irish variant, not to be confused with the 250,000 American imitations) opened his post with an acknowledgement that he has witnessed a steady thinning or his beer blog RSS feed. He then goes on to explain that he doesn’t feel his energy or enthusiasm waning, part in thanks to keeping “governing rules:” his regular posting schedule keeps him too busy to get introspective and worry about silly things like a beer mid-life crisis. As someone whose blogging schedule is little more than what comes to him in the shower that morning, I can’t help but envy his discipline. He even adheres to his own rules in the Session entry, giving us brief introductions to five Irish beauties. This particular line stuck with me, as I had blamed this concept in part for my flagging interests:

“the industry itself (at least in the US where Oliver is) seems to be suffering a bit of an upheaval. It’s hard to know where you stand as a fanboy blogger when your favourite brewery is liable to be snatched away from you by a grasping multinational”

Gary of “Beer et seq” noted that to him, keeping interest in beer is all about taste. Literally. Gustatorily. He posits that flavors define the mystery:

“It never really ends, there is always more to learn. The beer palate is the core of it for me.”

I agree with Gary. All manner of information and ideas can be derived from how any why a beer got to its final, taste-laden form. Going back to ones roots to focus on what matters (to you, specifically) is usually a healthy recommendation. I would more likely return to homebrewing and recipe building, but really, all things considered, that would just be the other side to the same coin: refining your love and continuing your search for those elusive, ideal tastes.

Barry Masterson (friend of the Beer Nut, and also an Irish expat living in Germany) says in his post a lot of what I’ve been feeling. Like me, he had many conflicting obligations (pesky “jobs” and “responsibilities”) going on in his life that kept him from going all-in on beer, until, as he puts it, “With my lack of time and money, to a degree it felt like watching from the outside.” It’s as if Barry took those words out of my brain and put them into his own. There’s nothing quite like being completely immersed in something then taking a step back for unrelated reasons, to make you feel like an impostor and outsider where you once felt part of the inner clique (weird and shallow, I know, but honest I hope). Also like me, Barry never actually lost the love his love for new beers or brewing in all of this, despite his cynicism. Barry closes with some good news: if I’m really anything like him, I’ll rebound soon enough, if not quite in the same capacity as I did before.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2!