News, Nuggets & Longreads 5 January 2019: Gratitude and Onions

Here’s everything that grabbed our attention in the past few weeks (given that we took Christmas off) from St Albans to air raid shelters.

At The Pur­suit of Abbey­ness Mar­tin Stew­ard asks an excel­lent ques­tion: why do peo­ple vis­it brew­ery tap­rooms?

On the face of it, this is an odd thing to do. Brew­eries with­out tap­rooms may give you a taste of their beer, but they are hard­ly places to kick back and put the world to rights over a good ses­sion. They can be inter­est­ing for beer lovers, but, if we’re hon­est, set­ting aside the few with spe­cial archi­tec­tur­al, his­tor­i­cal or brew­ing points of inter­est, one is much the same as anoth­er.

But per­haps there is some­thing deep­er going on:

When we knock on the door of a pokey lit­tle brew­ery at the ragged end of a rain­swept indus­tri­al estate, are we real­ly respond­ing to a soul-deep thirst to express our grat­i­tude, in per­son, to the brew­ers of our much-loved beer?

Con­tin­ue read­ing “News, Nuggets & Lon­greads 5 Jan­u­ary 2019: Grat­i­tude and Onions”

News, Nuggets & Longreads 15 December 2018: Slavery, Philosophy, Wetherspoon Museum

Here’s everything that grabbed us in writing about beer and pubs in the past week, from American history to donkeys in pubs.

First, pick­ing up on the top­ic of the day, the BBC’s Chris Bara­niuk has inves­ti­gat­ed the ques­tion of cash­less pubs and bars in some detail. This line seems like the key to under­stand­ing the trend:

Ikea found that so few peo­ple – 1.2 in every 1,000 – insist­ed on pay­ing in cash that it was finan­cial­ly jus­ti­fi­able to offer them free food in the shop cafe­te­ria instead.


Mon­ti­cel­lo by Mar­tin Fal­bison­er | Wiki­me­dia Com­mons | CC BY-SA 3.0

For Good Beer Hunt­ing Dr J. Nikol Jack­son-Beck­ham has writ­ten an absorb­ing piece about Peter Hem­ings, the enslaved man who actu­al­ly did the brew­ing with which Pres­i­dent Thomas Jef­fer­son is some­times cred­it­ed:

With sev­er­al years of expe­ri­ence, Peter Hem­ings came into his own as a malt­ster and brew­er, and may have taught these trades to oth­er enslaved men in Vir­ginia. On April 11, 1820, Thomas Jef­fer­son wrote to James Madi­son, “Our brew­ing for the use of the present year has been some time over. About the last of Oct. or begin­ning of Nov. we begin for the ensu­ing year and malt and brew three, 60-gal­lon casks suc­ces­sive­ly which will give so many suc­ces­sive lessons to the per­son you send… I will give you notice in the fall when we are to com­mence malt­ing and our mal­ter and brew­er is uncom­mon­ly intel­li­gent and capa­ble of giv­ing instruc­tion if your pupil is as ready at com­pre­hend­ing it.”


The Beach Bar

Mar­tyn Cor­nell has attempt­ed to tack­le the world’s thorni­est philo­soph­i­cal conun­drum: what’s the dif­fer­ence between a pub and bar?

In the New Town where I grew up, all the estate pubs had been built to look like New Town homes on steroids, fol­low­ing the ‘pub as a home from home’ idea, but their new­ness stripped them of any of the ‘sense of per­ma­nence and con­ti­nu­ity’ that all the pubs in the Old Town had drip­ping from every brick and beam, and they felt like zom­bie pubs, life­less and with­out char­ac­ter. A bar, in con­trast, nev­er feels ‘homey’: indeed, I’d sug­gest that the slight­est pinch, jot or iota of ‘a home-like char­ac­ter’ turns a bar into either a pub or a teashop.


Warpigs in Copenhagen.
SOURCE: The Beer Nut.

We were intrigued by the Beer Nut’s obser­va­tion that Copen­hagen has become ‘Mikkeller World’:

Last time I was in town, the brewer’s retail out­lets con­sist­ed sole­ly of the lit­tle base­ment bar on Vik­to­ria­gade; now there are over a dozen premis­es in Copen­hagen alone, with more world­wide.

And that’s not all – even flights in are awash with the stuff.


A side order of nuggets

Victorian illustration of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters.
Classics corner: Charles Dickens’s ‘dropsical’ inn

We promised to flag some famous bits of beer and pub writ­ing and this week’s piece – one of Jess’s absolute favourites – is the descrip­tion of a Lon­don river­side pub that appears at the start of Chap­ter 6 of Charles Dickens’s Our Mutu­al Friend:

The bar of the Six Jol­ly Fel­low­ship Porters was a bar to soft­en the human breast. The avail­able space in it was not much larg­er than a hack­ney-coach; but no one could have wished the bar big­ger, that space was so girt in by cor­pu­lent lit­tle casks, and by cor­dial-bot­tles radi­ant with fic­ti­tious grapes in bunch­es, and by lemons in nets, and by bis­cuits in bas­kets, and by the polite beer-pulls that made low bows when cus­tomers were served with beer, and by the cheese in a snug cor­ner, and by the landlady’s own small table in a snug­ger cor­ner near the fire, with the cloth ever­last­ing­ly laid. This haven was divid­ed from the rough world by a glass par­ti­tion and a half-door, with a lead­en sill upon it for the con­ve­nience of rest­ing your liquor; but, over this half-door the bar’s snug­ness so gushed forth that, albeit cus­tomers drank there stand­ing, in a dark and draughty pas­sage where they were shoul­dered by oth­er cus­tomers pass­ing in and out, they always appeared to drink under an enchant­i­ng delu­sion that they were in the bar itself.


Final­ly, here’s an old Tweet that’s new to us:


If you want more, check out Alan’s Thurs­day ‘beery notes’ and (thank­ful­ly back after a hia­tus) Stan’s Mon­day links.

News, Nuggets & Longreads 1 December 2018: Stats, Social Clubs, Suburban Pubs

Here are all the blog posts, articles and news stories around beer and pubs that grabbed our attention in the past week, from Norway, Maine, to Canley.

First, some­thing with a bit of weight behind it: UK government’s Office for Nation­al Sta­tis­tics (ONS) has pub­lished a report on the health of the pub mar­ket. The over­all con­clu­sion it reach­es is that, yes, lots of pubs have closed in the past 20 years, but “the total turnover of pubs and bars has held up, remain­ing flat since 2008, once infla­tion is tak­en into account”.

There’s also an inter­ac­tive tool which will give you a read­out for your town or city, e.g.

ONS chart on Bristol pubs -- down from 375 to 285 since 2001.

The report sug­gests increas­ing employ­ment in the pub trade might be down to the growth in food ser­vice, and a trend towards big­ger rather than small­er pubs. (But we won­der if the intro­duc­tion of RTI in 2013 might also be an influ­ence, effec­tive­ly end­ing  infor­mal (unre­port­ed) employ­ment in most sec­tors.)


Children's party at a social club.

His­to­ri­an of clubs Ruth Cher­ring­ton has writ­ten about her mem­o­ries of play­ing bin­go with her par­ents at the Can­ley Social Club and Insti­tute in Coven­try, and what it all meant:

Our local club was con­ve­nient­ly sit­u­at­ed just across the street from our house on a post­war coun­cil estate. Mum told us that Dad was thrilled to bits when plans for the clubs were drawn up in the late 1940s. Hav­ing a local place to drink and play games like bil­liards and crib­bage over a pint or two meant he would no longer have to trek to his old haunts on the oth­er side of town. Like many local men on the estate, he threw him­self into set­ting up the new club on the land allo­cat­ed by the Cor­po­ra­tion specif­i­cal­ly for that pur­pose. The club opened in a wood­en hut in 1948 and affil­i­at­ed to the Club and Insti­tute Union in 1950.

(PDF, unfor­tu­nate­ly.)


Norway, Maine, brewpub.

At Beer­vana Jeff Alworth has tak­en a moment to breathe and reflect on how ordi­nary it has become to find decent and inter­est­ing beer in unlike­ly places:

Human expe­ri­ence requires con­stant recal­i­bra­tion, and mine occurred about halfway through my dry-hopped pil­sner, Imper­son­ator. I was focused on the over­ly Amer­i­can hop char­ac­ter and lack of assertive malt fla­vor when it hit me: I am in a brew­pub in Nor­way, Maine. My crit­i­cal appa­ra­tus had been set to “world stan­dards.” I quick­ly recal­i­brat­ed to “18-month-old brew­pub in rur­al Maine,” and all of a sud­den it was look­ing mighty impres­sive. There were no flaws in that or any beers we tried, and part of my com­plaint was, admit­ted­ly, pref­er­ence (I don’t want to taste IPA in my pil­sner).


Debit card illustration.

We wrote about cashless/cardless pubs and bars ear­li­er this week, and it’s a top­ic gen­er­al­ly in the air. David Hold­en at Yes! Ale reports the real­i­ty on the ground where con­sumers are expect­ed to car­ry both cash and cards if they expect to vis­it more than one venue in the course of an evening:

Yes, I had to go back out in the wind and rain but at least I am in a posi­tion to get cash out at six o’clock in the evening. I don’t have to go into an open branch to get cash. In Koelschip Yard I was in the posi­tion to open my wal­let and draw a card out to make a pay­ment. There are many rea­sons why not every­one can do this. These rea­sons may be why one poten­tial cus­tomer has to “give this one a miss” or ask their mate “Do you mind get­ting the round in here?”.


Hofmeister lager.

And here’s anoth­er real­i­ty check, from Paul ‘no rela­tion’ Bai­ley: beers that you can’t actu­al­ly buy, even if you real­ly, real­ly want to, might as well not exist. His expe­ri­ence was with the award-win­ning revived ver­sion of Hofmeis­ter.


Vintage illustration: McSorleys

We were sur­prised to come across some­one this week who didn’t know Joseph Mitchell’s bril­liant 1940 essay on New York City tav­ern McSorley’s, AKA ‘The Old House at Home’. So now, in what might be a one-off, or could become a reg­u­lar fea­ture, wel­come to Clas­sics Cor­ner:

It is equipped with elec­tric­i­ty, but the bar is stub­born­ly illu­mi­nat­ed with a pair of gas lamps, which flick­er fit­ful­ly and throw shad­ows on the low, cob­web­by ceil­ing each time some­one opens the street door. There is no cash reg­is­ter. Coins are dropped in soup bowls—one for nick­els, one for dimes, one for quar­ters, and one for halves—and bills are kept in a rose­wood cash­box. It is a drowsy place; the bar­tenders nev­er make a need­less move, the cus­tomers nurse their mugs of ale, and the three clocks on the walls have not been in agree­ment for many years.


And how can we not fin­ish with Hilary Man­tel doing her ver­sion of 20th Cen­tu­ry Pub?

Want more read­ing? See Alan.

News, Nuggets & Longreads 24 November 2018: Jopengasse, Bermondsey, Cold Comfort

Here’s all the reading about beer and pubs that grabbed us in the past week, from conclusions on cask beer to booze in cold climates.

First, an aston­ish­ing rev­e­la­tion – researchers have dis­cov­ered that liv­ing in a cold, dark cli­mates makes you want to drink more:

Senior author Ramon Bataller, asso­ciate direc­tor of the Pitts­burgh Liv­er Research Cen­tre, said: “This is the first study that sys­tem­at­i­cal­ly demon­strates that world­wide and in Amer­i­ca, in cold­er areas and areas with less sun, you have more drink­ing and more alco­holic cir­rho­sis.”


The old city of Gdansk.

We’re not gen­er­al­ly that inter­est­ed in Wot I Dun on my Hol­i­day blog posts but know­ing that Barm, AKA @robsterowski, is a seri­ous schol­ar of Euro­pean beer, and being long-time Polonophiles our­selves, we were excit­ed to read his account of a vis­it to Gdańsk. He did not dis­ap­point:

This is Uli­ca Piw­na in Gdan­sk. In the past when the town was pre­dom­i­nant­ly Ger­man, the street was called Jopen­gasse. Both names redo­lent with beery his­to­ry, for Jopen­gasse is named after the leg­endary Danziger Jopen­bier (or per­haps the beer is named after the street), where­as Piw­na lit­er­al­ly means Beer Street… Danzig in the 19th cen­tu­ry also had a Mälz­er­gasse, malt­sters’ street. The street then called Hin­ter Adlers Brauhaus, “Behind Adler’s Brew­ery” is now called Browar­na, brew­ery street and the one-time Hopfen­gasse is now Chmiel­na, both mean­ing Hop Lane.


We thought it was odd when Moor and Cloud­wa­ter opened bars on the Bermond­sey Beer Mile but it’s now got even weird­er with the announce­ment of plans by New Zealand brew­ery Pan­head to launch a spear­head there too. The full sto­ry is at Aus­tralian indus­try news site Brews­News in a sto­ry by Matt Cur­tis:

Lion-owned Pan­head Cus­tom Ales is set to open a tap­room in the UK before the end of 2019… This new retail site will be head­ed-up by Four­pure, itself acquired by Lion in July 2018. The project will be led by Four­pure Mar­ket­ing Man­ag­er and for­mer 4 Pines mar­ket­ing head Adri­an Lugg, accord­ing to its co-founder Dan Lowe.

There’s fur­ther com­men­tary, insight­ful as ever, from Will Hawkes at Imbibe:

Lit­tle Crea­tures, found­ed in 2000 in West­ern Aus­tralia and now owned by Kirin, is prepar­ing to open in King’s Cross, and Pan­head, a Kiwi brand also owned by Kirin, is set for Bermond­sey. There are also per­sis­tent rumours that Sier­ra Neva­da, which is inde­pen­dent­ly-owned but still huge, has sim­i­lar plans. Brew­dog, Britain’s only rep­re­sen­ta­tive in the big-craft league, opened a brew­pub in Tow­er Bridge ear­li­er this year… The val­ue of brew­pubs to big brands is sim­ple: prove­nance is impor­tant to craft-beer drinkers, so it pays to mud­dy the water.


Source: Kirsty Walk­er.

At Lady Sinks the Booze Kirsty Walk­er is on a mis­sion: to go drink­ing in the towns where the for­mer mem­bers of defunct pop group One Direc­tion were born. Obvi­ous­ly. She has start­ed with Brad­ford, home­town of Zayn Malik, where she had a per­fect pint of Tim­o­thy Tay­lor Bolt­mak­er in “Car Wash and Tyre Cen­tre Land” and got chat­ted up by a bloke who glad­ly drank a foul pint of Sam Smith’s she’d aban­doned:

The pint I had just returned wasn’t just on it’s way out, it was down­right ran­cid, and yet this spec­i­men gulped it down like it was that pint of Bolt­mak­er I pined for. I drank the Sov­er­eign. It was fine, it was good in fact. How some­one could taste both this and the pint of swamp water I had just con­sumed and say they were both the same was beyond me.


Pint glasses in a pub.

We’ve fea­tured both pre­vi­ous pars of Pete Brown’s reflec­tions on the health of the cask ale mar­ket and can’t omit his con­clud­ing post which is full of fas­ci­nat­ing details:

On my ques­tion­naire, before we got onto the busi­ness side of things, I asked respon­dents how they felt about cask them­selves. Now – I split the data by size of pub, by whether it was free­hold, leased, ten­ant­ed or man­aged, whether or not it had Cask Mar­que accred­i­ta­tion, and there was lit­tle vari­a­tion in the data. The one dif­fer­ence that was sig­nif­i­cant was when I com­pared pub­li­cans who said they per­son­al­ly adored cask and drank it them­selves to every­one else. These were the guys for whom cask ale was mak­ing mon­ey, who put in the extra time, who trained their staff prop­er­ly.


The lin­ger­ing exis­tence of Young & Co is fas­ci­nat­ing: the brands are now owned by Marston’s and brewed… in Bed­ford, maybe? But the heart and soul of the brew­ery remains in Wandsworth, south Lon­don, even if the site of the old place is in the process of becom­ing a res­i­den­tial and retail ‘quar­ter’. For the Brew­ers Jour­nal Tim Shea­han has inter­viewed the keep­er of the flame, John Hatch:

John is the head brew­er at Wandsworth’s Ram Brew­ery. He’s also the assis­tant brew­er, head clean­er, pack­ag­ing oper­a­tive and every­thing in-between… You see, the Ram Brew­ery is no nor­mal brew­ery. Instead, it’s a tru­ly unique oper­a­tion housed on the grounds of the old Young’s brew­ery. A pas­sion project that came into being upon the news that Young’s was to shut­ter it’s Lon­don brew­ing busi­ness back in 2006, Hatch has ensured that although the brew­ery would be leav­ing the site, brew­ing wouldn’t.


Old drawing of a brewery.
Dreher’s brew­ery. SOURCE: The Pen­ny Illus­trat­ed Paper, 28 May 1870, via The British News­pa­per Archive.

Andreas Kren­mair has made yet anoth­er break­through in his attempts to pin down the spec­i­fi­ca­tions of his­toric Vien­na beer. This time, it’s the colour:

Back in 2015, when I start­ed look­ing more close­ly into the his­toric spec­i­fi­ca­tions of Vien­na Lager, one ques­tion where I start­ed spec­u­lat­ing and couldn’t real­ly get a good answer was the ques­tion of colour. I based this off his­toric records that I had found in one of Ron Pattinson’s books, Decoc­tion!. The pro­vid­ed val­ue of 6.3 (no units) seemed rea­son­ably close to be SRM, but as Ron com­ment­ed below my post­ing, the beer colour is not in SRM, and that he’s not sure what exact­ly it is… Well, today I can proud­ly pro­claim that I have final­ly dis­cov­ered not only what the 6.3 means but also how the val­ue relates the mod­ern beer colour units like SRM or EBC.


We don’t nor­mal­ly do this but we’re going to fin­ish with one of our own Tweets – a short thread, in fact, and the kind of thing we might nor­mal­ly put on the blog, but want­ed to exper­i­ment with.

Want more? Alan posts a splen­did­ly sple­net­ic links round-up every Thurs­day.

News, Nuggets & Longreads 17/11/2018: Cloudwater, Collaboration, Klein-Schwechat

Here’s everything that grabbed our attention in the world of beer and pubs in the past week, from yeast family trees to the curse of good press.

First, though, let’s have a bit of good news: John Pry­bus, the char­ac­ter behind the cult sta­tus of The Blue Bell in York, will con­tin­ue to run the pub after a vig­or­ous local cam­paign to pre­vent the pub com­pa­ny that owns it boot­ing him out in favour of a man­ag­er.


Cloudwater cask beers on a bar in Manchester.

Cloud­wa­ter aban­doned cask-con­di­tioned beer, but have now come back round to the idea. While some have bri­dled at the hype sur­round­ing this event (con­trolled launch of cask beers into select­ed pubs, lots of social media buzz) it’s prompt­ed some thought­ful debate. For exam­ple, there’s this cau­tious wel­come from Tan­dle­man, who avoids the knee-jerk anti-craft response:

Cloud­wa­ter has been seek­ing out pubs where their cask cre­den­tials are such that they will look after the beer prop­er­ly, going as far as hav­ing a lit­tle inter­ac­tive online map where you can seek out those who know how to coax the best out of beer from the wick­ets. Addi­tion­al­ly, a vet­ting process, which while hard­ly the Span­ish Inqui­si­tion, at least gets enough infor­ma­tion about prospec­tive sell­ers of the amber nec­tar to judge whether they’ll turn it into flat vine­gar or not. Good idea. Qual­i­ty at point of sale is para­mount and Cloud­wa­ter are to be praised for mak­ing such efforts as they have in the name of a qual­i­ty pint.


Handshake illustration.

At Pur­suit of Abbey­ness Mar­tin Stew­ard has been think­ing about col­lab­o­ra­tion brews. While acknowl­edg­ing the down­sides, he avoids cliched cyn­i­cism and reflects pleas­ing­ly deeply on how this rel­a­tive­ly new com­mer­cial prac­tice fits into the evo­lu­tion of our beer cul­ture:

Craft beer dis­tri­b­u­tion today has lit­tle to do with tied pub­lic hous­es, or even nation­al bar chains. The off-licence trade revolves around inde­pen­dent bot­tle shops that stock main­ly local prod­ucts, and the glob­al mail order ser­vices facil­i­tat­ed by the inter­net and advances in can­ning and logis­tics tech­nolo­gies. The on-licence trade con­sists of spe­cial­ist craft-beer bars and brew­ery tap rooms which, like the bot­tle shops that are some­times also on-licence tap rooms, have a dis­tinct­ly local bias… Col­lab­o­ra­tions enable brew­ers to expose their brands through those frag­ment­ed mod­ern dis­tri­b­u­tion net­works, and an Insta­gram sto­ry of a col­lab­o­ra­tive brew day instant­ly reach­es the fol­low­ers of each col­lab­o­ra­tors’ brands, wher­ev­er they are around the world.


One of our favourite writer-researchers, Andreas Kren­mair, con­tin­ues his obses­sives prob­ing into the his­to­ry of Vien­na beer with the unearthing of a water pro­file for the brew­ery well at Klein-Schwechat:

By pure acci­dent, I stum­bled upon an analy­sis of the brew­ing water (well water) of the brew­ery in Klein-Schwechat, in the book “The The­o­ry and Prac­tice of the Prepa­ra­tion of Malt and the Fab­ri­ca­tion of Beer, with Espe­cial Ref­er­ence to the Vien­na Process of Brew­ing” by Julius E. Thaus­ing. It’s actu­al­ly the Eng­lish trans­la­tion of a Ger­man book. One prob­lem with the analy­sis is that it doesn’t spec­i­fy any units for most of the num­bers. It does spec­i­fy the amount of residue after the water has been evap­o­rat­ed (in grams), but that was it… So by itself, the analy­sis is unfor­tu­nate­ly not real­ly help­ful. If any­body knows how to inter­pret the num­bers, I’m grate­ful for any help with it.

The open, col­lab­o­ra­tive grop­ing towards the truth con­tin­ues.


Macro shot of text and diagram: 'Yeast'.

More deep lev­el research, this time into yeast strains: Kristofer Krogerus and qq who com­ments here from time to time con­tin­ue to col­lab­o­rate on unpick­ing the ever-increas­ing pile of genet­ic infor­ma­tion on brew­ing yeast:

Wyeast 1469 West York­shire – Was ful­ly expect­ing this to be a Beer2 strain! 1469 is meant to come from Tim­o­thy Tay­lor, who got their yeast from Old­ham, who got their yeast from John Smith’s. The John Smith yeast also went to Harvey’s (the source of VTT-A81062, a Beer2 strain). So it’s a bit of a sur­prise that 1469 is in the heart of the UK Beer1 strains, clos­est to WLP022 Essex (‘Rid­leys’). So either the tra­di­tion­al sto­ries aren’t true, there’s been contamination/mixups, or we’re look­ing at John Smith being some kind of mul­ti­strain with both Beer 1’s and Beer 2’s in it.


Pete Brown's chart of cask + craft sales.

Pete Brown has shared more of the back­ground research that informed this year’s Cask Report, observ­ing that the cask ale and craft beer seg­ments of the mar­ket, if viewed togeth­er as ‘flavour­ful’ or ‘inter­est­ing’ beer, tell an inter­est­ing sto­ry:

Drinkers who say they under­stand what craft beer is and claim to drink it were asked to name a craft beer brand. A major­i­ty of them – 55% – named a beer the researchers felt was a ‘tra­di­tion­al ale’. Telling­ly, the [Marston’s On-Trade Beer Report’s] authors say that 45% ‘cor­rect­ly’ named a brand they deem to be craft – imply­ing that those who named a tra­di­tion­al brand were incor­rect in doing so… Per­haps you agree. Per­haps you’re sit­ting there think­ing, ‘Blimey, over half of peo­ple who think they’re drink­ing craft beer don’t even know what it is.’ Maybe to you this is a sign of how big­ger brew­ers have co-opt­ed the term ‘craft’ and made it mean­ing­less. Maybe you just think these peo­ple aren’t as knowl­edge­able about beer as you are. Or maybe – just maybe – they’re right and you’re wrong.


Black Sheep bottle cap.

Anoth­er pos­si­bly relat­ed nugget via @LeedsBeerWolf: one of the finan­cial back­ers of York­shire brew­ery Black Sheep is attempt­ing to mount a coup against the found­ing fam­i­ly because they are“failing to cap­i­talise on an explod­ing demand for craft beer”, as report­ed by Mark Cas­ci at the Har­ro­gate Adver­tis­er. (Warn­ing: the site is ren­dered bare­ly read­able by aggres­sive ads.)


Closed sign on shop.

This week’s not-beer lon­gread (via @StanHieronymus) is food writer Kevin Alexander’s piece for Thril­list about how he killed a restau­rant by declar­ing it The Best in the US nation­al media:

Five months lat­er, in a sto­ry in The Ore­gon­ian, restau­rant crit­ic Michael Rus­sell detailed how Stanich’s had been forced to shut down. In the arti­cle, Steve Stanich called my burg­er award a curse, “the worst thing that’s ever hap­pened to us.” He told a sto­ry about the coun­try music singer Tim McGraw show­ing up one day, and not being able to serve him because there was a five hour wait for a burg­er. On Jan­u­ary 2, 2018, Stanich shut down the restau­rant for what he called a “two week deep clean­ing.” Ten months lat­er, Stanich’s is still closed. Now when I look at the Stanich’s mug in my office, I no longer feel light and hap­py. I feel like I’ve done a bad thing.

A grim tale worth bear­ing in mind next time you see, or get asked to con­tribute to, a lis­ti­cle about pubs.



If you want more links, check out Alan’s Thurs­day round-up at A Good Beer Blog.