Jude - Reformation Brewery

"Hey Jude, don't let me down"

It was Friday evening-- Payday, and as I sat my beer down on the counter a voice came to me,

“Hey that’s a really nice Saison you have there” 

--Said the liquor store stranger wearing a carhartt jacket and a toboggan in the heat of a Georgia spring that hadn’t even had a winter. “Do you like Belgians?”


“Yeah I like Belgians”, I replied with curious optimism. How many changes in life can you chalk up to a conversation with a stranger? In my line of work, it’s a fair amount.


“Have you tried reformation yet?” the stranger inquired with a gleeful anticipation. Liquor store proselytization holds a special place in my heart, and it seemed like kismet with me having just resumed blogging about beer again. Could he sense it in the air? Did it hang over me like the stink of desperation of a single man in a bar on friday night after last call? With all the grace of a high cultured Maitre’d he ushered me back to the cooler. Fluorescents blinking as they teetered on the verge of life and death. The stranger tapped the glass like a child inspecting the lobster tank at a grocery store. And with the smile of someone with a secret they couldn’t keep to themselves he spoke-

“There she is. Northwest Georgia’s newest brewery. It pours lighter then a Blue Moon but clocks in at 9%. This is the real deal. I redid their roof last september”

  And with that he he scooped up a sixer and thrusted it into my trembling hands. I was sold. How much of your life boils down to a chance encounter with a stranger?

#SetBeerFree

Reformation sprung for a love of great european beer. There moto is “Set beer free”, and the beer walks the walk the brewers talk. Located in the sleepy suburb of Woodstock, only a half hour outside of Atlanta proper, Reformation has set up shop in the heart of what Georgians refer to as OTP, or Outside the perimeter. If you’re a country mouse who wants to pretend they’re a city mouse you live OTP. It’s in this way that reformation has got out to ensure their own brand of craft beer Jihad; of holy war not waged with improvised explosives wielded by zealots, but instead of passion and vision of beers as delicate and balances as a Michelin star entree. The Georgian juggernauts of Sweetwater, Terrapin, and Red brick are certainly no slouches in the craft game, but to quote Action Bronson, “They ain’t rappin’ like this anymore”.

"Remember, to let her into your heart"

My first experience with reformation was Jude, a delightful Belgian Trippel. The stranger from before was right, it poured lighter than even the lightest hefeweizen, but there was a beautiful and strange haze to it. It was cloudy like the urine of a man on a 8 day Mt Dew bender. Beautiful out of the minimalist almost art deco style can into my glass. Pours good with maybe a finger or two of eggshell white head. I can’t get over how well it matches the design of the can. Clearly a lot of thought went into this. I held the glass to the georgia sun and marveled. It was a phosphorescent beauty of copper fading to straw. The head fades to nothing but the beer does not look as if it lacks for it. Jude is a 9.2% beer but it takes you by surprise, like someone who slips in through the side window with it’s shoes off and clubs you in the back of the head with a blackjack. It’s very refreshing, true to it’s style with a crisp citrus flavor, tart apple, fading to caramel with a touch of butter. It drinks so light but very full, very balanced. This would be a great beer to have with a picnic, or a stroll through a park, or going to the zoo to throw peanuts at monkeys.

In final summation, if you can find Jude in your neck of the woods, and appreciate the finer things in life like a delicious Tripel, then you would be doing yourself a disgrace disservice to pass over Jude

"Nah nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah, hey Jude"

Fat Tire - New Belgium

       Dear eight pound, six ounce newborn baby jesus do I love spring. I love everything about it: The sunshine, the warmth, the promise of a summer, fresh cut grass, driving across the state-line to go to the drive-in, thoughts of going swimming, road trips with the windows down, longer days, warmer nights. I enjoy the other four seasons as much as Northwest Georgia can provide four seasons, I mean we just didn’t have a winter this year, what the hell is up with that? But there is something great about the promise of spring. And with spring comes one of my favorite adult pastimes-- sitting outside in the sun and drinking beer.

Now a good beer is a good beer and anytime is a good time to drink good beer, but when it comes to enjoying all that spring has to offer, there is one beer that towers over others and that is the Amber ale. Amber ales are as at home on a baseball bleacher as they are sitting on a blanket at a music festival. They’re great with hot wings on a patio or sitting at a crowded bar surrounded by friends. Amber ale’s are the golden retrievers of beer, always eager to please whenever possible. Simple put, amber ales are to spring what IPA’s are to summer.

Amber Ale is a bit of a catchall term for any beer lighter then a Dark Ale. While still a malty affair, Ambers excel in the warming days of spring because they balance the biscuity-coffee goodness of Malt with some lovely fruit and spice flavors. It’s a style that doesn’t feel the need to overwhelm you with a palate punch of hops, but lets the smoothness. It’s a great transition from a darker beer like a porter or a stout to a lighter more summery affair like an Session IPA.

The all-time heavyweight champion of ambers in my eyes will always be Fat Tire. It’s crisp, refreshing, has a subtle hint of tart apple with a subtle fizzy effervescent with just a touch of coffee that really balances it out. You can also get fat tire almost anywhere these days, which earns a fair amount of points when you don’t have to struggle to find it when sitting down at a dinner (I’m looking at you, cigar city)..

All great beer should be enjoyed in a glass, this is undisputable fact. There’s some back and forth on whether certain beers are better in certain glasses, but the fact that it opens it up and lets you actually smell the beer while you drink it makes a huge impact. And boy howdy does Fat tire look beautiful in a glass. Its light gold, with a hint of tan is so alluring. I love the way it hangs on the side of glass. You drink something with your eyes before your mouth, right? Anyways, I digress. It’s a spring day and the bees are buzzing around me and it’s all a work of art.

Beer snobs of all shapes may turn their noses up at the lovable little slugger of Fat Tire, and you too may find yourself rolling your eyes at my enthusiasm for it. It’s so plebian, just a step above Bud Light or a PBR. What does it say about me as a person if I drink the craft beer equivalent of Wilco?  But i urge you, give Fat Tire another look with a fresh pair of eyes. It may surprise you with it’s earest ways.  It may not be the best amber out there, but it has so much to offer. Fat Tire has so much love to give, it only needs you to open the twist top to your heart and pour 12 ounces of pure Craft love inside.

On Absences (An Apology)

"We'll meet again,
    don't know where,
         don't know when.
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."
-Vera Lynn

Hello friends, I've missed you all.

How have you been since the last time we talked? I hope you're doing well. A lot has changed in the interim, but I haven't forgotten about you. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye but a lot has changed for me. I lost two people who were very important to me in very different ways in the past year, and each one changed my desire to continue on with this.

In 2016, the year of endless loss, my mother succumbed to her terminal illness. It hurt so badly with all the space and time in the world, I'll never be able to put it to words. It crippled me emotionally and spiritually, not only losing my mother but having to let her pass with things being so complicated between us. I became a shell, and I'm still a shell in a lot of ways. Alcoholism runs in my family and my mother was never comfortable with me drinking as a result. So when I moved back to Georgia to take care of her, I gave up beer. and with giving up beer, I gave up writing about beer. I gave up writing all together. I tried a few times, but nothing of substance came out, just generic drivel fit only for a buzzfeed listicle.

In 2017 I lost one of the most inspirational people to have come into my life. Josh Fonner, creator of Macabre productions, host of Untitled Nonsense, and a creative juggernaut, passed after struggling to breathe. The only reason I'm not dead or in jail is the kindness and understanding of my friends, and while we had our dustups, I respected Josh in a way that was unparalleled. The man could stand no bullshit, made no excuses for executing his dreams. This blog, this whole endeavor wouldn't exist if he hadn't invited me on his podcast. Josh showed me what was possible when you don't let anyone take a piece of your dream, what's possible when you take all the bullshit life can lay on you and throw it right back.

As I was standing in a church in Florida in a room full of strangers eulogizing a man i only knew through the internet, I had a low level panic attack. After patching things up, Josh and I had made plans to resume co-hosting UN together. All I had to do was find time to do it, but I kept putting it off.  Why was I letting life bury me in its bullshit? Why had I let the day to day keep me from speaking my peace?

The words of my friend hung in my head stayed in my head, why had I quit?. Was I going to keep just sleepwalking through life, or was I going to say enough was enough and start punching back?

Well I can't promise I'll give you something worthwhile, but for what it's worth I'm back if you'll have me. Like a father who stepped out for smokes and then never returned, I realize I've hurt your trust. I wouldn't begrudge any of you if you never returned or read anything I wrote again.

But I'm here, and I'm ready to make up for lost time.