Not Chasing
[This week I reflect on not chasing after rare beer, drawing a comparison to chasing birds, and offer some reasons to stay home and enjoy what you've got. Also, it's official: this is a bi-weekly blog.]
“The most radical thing you can do is to stay home.” – Gary Snyder
Snyder, a poet and environmental activist, adds needed reflection to my decision, yesterday, to stay home and not drive three hours to the Captain Lawrence Flaming Fury in Pleasantville, New York. I bucked the trend (both personal and global) of chasing rare beers, not capitalizing on an opportunity to purchase four 375ml bottles of peachy sour ale, which, by most early accounts, is not particularly stunning. Instead, I stayed home, slept in, ran errands, exercised, and enjoyed the sunshine on an unseasonably warm coastal Rhode Island day. I finished the evening with a bottle of 2006 Hanssens Oudbeitje from my existing stash and paired it with some buttered oysters on toast. It was beautiful and it was local.
One particular reason that I wanted to bring up this topic is that it’s strikingly easy for me to draw a direct parallel between chasing rare beers and chasing rare birds (another semi-fanatic hobby I avidly pursue). Birders chase rare birds in almost exactly the same way that beer geeks chase rare beers. There are few differences. Birders don’t pay directly for the end commodity (birds can’t be bought), they don’t drink it, and they certainly don’t get drunk on it (although some get rather heady on their successes). Beer geeks usually know weeks in advance when they’re going to make a run (rare birds, however, may show up at any moment), they don’t usually accumulate speeding tickets en route to their destination, and they don’t require thousands of dollars in optics and cameras to fully appreciate beer. When birders don’t get their bird, it’s called dipping. When beer geeks don’t get their beer, it’s called bullshit.
Oddly enough, both groups would probably consider the other crazy. Stereotypically cheap birders have a hard time imagining a six hour drive to pay for a beer (they can be rare?). Stereotypically sports-oriented, suburban beer geeks have a hard time imagining a six hour drive to see a bird (they can be rare?). But, when you boil it down, the acts are extremely similar. Both groups wait around (standing, walking, or riding in a car) in anticipation of a brief moment to appreciate a thing of beauty, something which they may never have another chance to see or buy. Both are accumulating commodities (birds on a checklist or beers in a cellar), both geek out in the process, both have to work around external schedules (daylight, family, work) and everyone takes lots of pictures when the moment finally arrives.
And yet, while making this analogy allows me to provide some insight into a strikingly similar behavior, I’m not out to chastise and chide those who would chase beers or birds. This talking-down happens unnecessarily enough in both communities. Doing so would be hypocritical of me, as I have done plenty of both in my life. Instead, I hope to put some perspective on doing the opposite of chasing, staying home and staying local, instead of getting in the car in anticipation of seeing or buying something rare and limited.
First, one of the great reasons to stay home is that plenty of beer can be had right where you are, in this moment. This is true for most. However, there are regions of the country where good beer can be hard to come by. Lately, though, those places are becoming fewer and farther between. With this in mind, there are two great ways to take advantage of what’s immediately available to you: open up your cellar or patronize your locals. If you’re like me, you’ve got more beer in your cellar than you could drink in a month. Unfortunately, a lot of cellared beer goes un-drunk before it gets too old and oxidized. Many of us have obscenely large cellars, where this is happening as we speak. Go drink something. Stop accumulating, start drinking. If your cellar is a little paltry, there’s almost certainly plenty nearby to savor. In my case, I could have gone to a local tasting at Wakefield Liquors, or driven an hour or so to Julio’s in Westborough, Massachusetts for a quite large tasting. I could have gone to Mew’s Tavern and savored a couple pints of a personal favorite, Brooklyn’s Sorachi Ace. I could have sampled Newport Storm beers with local seafood at home. While none of these may hold up to the perceived excitement of chasing rare beers, they are each resourceful, beautiful, and simple appreciations of local brewers and purveyors.
Second, there are obvious environmental impacts to chasing. I’m not going to detail reasons for why spewing less carbon is better for everyone (plenty of material exists), but I will say that that there’s a certain satisfaction in using less of the earth. Driving three hours one way to buy a bunch of beer doesn’t fit well with the goals of a simple lifestyle. It’s also becoming more expensive to drive. Hauling halfway across a state to buy a bunch of beer is going to cost you some gas money. Why not save it to spend on more local, independent beer, instead of contributing to an oil CEO’s bonus that will probably go towards ice-sculptures that pee vodka? Finally, those six hours whiling away in a car could have been spent doing more productive things, like homebrewing, exercising, or spending valuable time with loved ones. The list of social and environmental support for not driving six hours for anything could go on and on.
Third, there is something to be said for letting local scenes be and to let locals revel in them, instead of introducing havoc. Fervor often develops when masses of beer geeks descend from across the country on a single brewer. And while the brewer may appreciate the attention, negative consequences have occurred. Notable examples include Dark Lord Day and all of its infamous behaviors, the unwanted pressure on the monks at Westvleteren, and local patrons of Bullfrog Brewery missing out on Frambozen because a bunch of greedy out-of-towners drove in, got in line at 7am, and each bought an entire case out of a twenty case production (such as myself, although I lived only an hour away). I’m not saying that beer tourism is a bad idea. I think that done right, it’s a simple, paced way to enjoy other cultures. What can be damaging is the frothy overexcitement that beer geeks often bring to a limited release. And in some ways, this demand for the best and rarest beers from every corner of the world is a form of globalization, a phenomenon that has been critiqued on many levels, including for doing damage to markets. Having beer geeks practically pee their pants to snatch up as many $30 bottles of beer has only made the craft beer market worse, driving up baseline prices on all craft beer and inflating the egos of some brewers to the point that they don’t have any problem repeatedly releasing $30 beers that are completely flat. In the end, this kind of behavior contributes to a decline in the quality of craft beer as a whole. It’s possible that staying home, staying calm, and giving locals persistent, metered patronage will keep them afloat, inject stability into the beer market, and allow you to develop a bond with down-to-earth folks, as opposed to making rock stars out of profiteers.
In the end, however, the decision to stay home or to get in the car, on the train, or in a plane, and pursue the next big beer is left up to the individual beer drinker. I understand the desire to be there on the cusp of the action, waiting in line, securing a special quarry of rare beers that hold value, trade well, and elicit attention and excitement from fellow beer geeks. It can be exciting, fun, and interesting. But, it can also be really rewarding to stay home open something in the cellar, enjoy what’s available to you in this moment, go easy on the earth, and let local scenes foster their own, patiently deserved appreciation.
