New Brewery in Erie...kind of

In another example of "nano-contract-brewing" (like Prism Brewing -- brewing at the General Lafayette (and a very cool website) -- and Royersford Brewing -- brewing at Sly Fox), Lavery Brewing just got final approval in Erie. They're brewing on weekends at BrewErie. More details here, here, and here.

There's also another new brewpub coming in central PA. Details shortly...but I'll tell you now, it's got great potential. [cat's out of the bag; check the comments for details!]

4 hours in Pittsburgh, and many miles to run

Work on Pennsylvania Breweries 4 continues, and I wrapped up western PA last week...er, the week before last. Sorry, this took a while to find the time to write. Briefly, here's what happened.

I left the house early Wednesday morning, the 13th, running down the Turnpike with the dawn at my back. 300-some miles later, I pulled into the snowy parking lot at Penn Brewery. That's right, Penn, the place I wrote this obituary for in November. What a spring I had in my step as I walked down Vinial Street to the offices, and what a pleasure it was to have former -- and current -- marketing manager Eric Heinauer open the door. Tom Pastorius came down the stairs and the first thing I said to him was "Congratulations." I met the three investors -- Linda Nyman, Sandy Cindrich, and Corey Little -- some very talented and experienced people who are bringing a lot to the table, and was introduced to brewmaster Andy Rich...again. Er, I, um, think I met you at the bock tapping in 2008, but, um, I was pretty banged up by then. "Hey, it's okay, so was I. It was a good one."

Tom showed me around the brewery. The kegging line was sold, the bottling line was sold, and the furnace is broken: so no kegs, no bottles, and no restaurant. But...the new kegging line is shipping from Germany, new bottlling line will be in soon, and they plan to have their beer back on the market shortly (bottles by the end of January, kegs sooner -- maybe now?). The restaurant? Early April. It's been rough -- "The first few weeks," Tom said, "all I did was write checks and apologize to suppliers." -- and yes, they did break down and brew a pale ale to have beer ready in time for a sneak preview on December 30th, but Penn is back. And it's damned good to have them. I bid them farewell and took off.

I tooled down to South Side to the Hofbräuhaus and my meeting with brewer Eckhard Kurbjuhn. That went well, lubricated by a half liter of the new hellerbock -- so smooth, malty and solid, good eating. We talked about the place, he was quite forthcoming, and they're doing well. The place was almost empty -- and when a place that size is empty, it is EMP-TEE -- but it was an early weekday afternoon in January, eh? We took a look at the kitchen (Huge!), the dining room (nice), and the brewery...which is right out there in the open anyway. A good time, an affable guy, and I moved on.

I cut across the Hot Metal Bridge, cut across town, and was soon churning up the long hill out of town on I-279, windows open and music blaring (it was up to 34 degrees!). Got into Slippery Rock and walked into North Country. Love that place, with all the amazing woodwork and the determinedly populist feel to it (er, and the really good beer may have something to do with it), and it was starting to roll at 4:30 in the afternoon. I saw Bob McCafferty at the bar, so I walked up, we bullshit each other a bit, and then Sean McIntyre grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, and we all went upstairs (which is open now, I hadn't known!) to have some beers. He had one on, the Honey Bear Brown that was simply unique, I'd never tasted anything like it: a beer made with honey and brown malt that just kind of expanded in my mouth. I got a growler of that to take home.

I would have loved to stay a lot longer, but I had one more stop that day: Voodoo Brewery, in Meadville. Matt Allyn wasn't there -- more about that to come -- but brewer Justin Dudek was in the house (I'd met him back in November) and we drank a bit and talked a bit. Voodoo's got beer in the tanks, but things are kind of juggling right now, with Matt Allyn's attention split between Voodoo, Blue Canoe, and that new project I hinted about...oh, hell, you probably all know anyway: Matt's brewing at Straub now. So what's going to happen with these other two projects is not something that's pinned down certain. Justin is certainly capable of doing the brewing, but Matt was doing a lot of traveling promoting Voodoo. We'll see. The beer's excellent, I'll tell you that.

On Justin's suggestion, I ate dinner at Chovy's in Meadville, right across the street from my motel (cheap, clean, America's Best Value Inn, good basic room). It was good! I had a spinach and feta thing on pasta, and it was delish with the glass of Italian white I got. Had a good time talking to the folks at the bar, and then went back to my room, read a bit, did some e-mailing, and went to bed. It was really cold, and I snugged down.

Next morning, I got up fairly early, headed up the road, and took Minerva's suggestion for a bagel breakfast in Edinboro. As you can see, it was pretty damned cold. In fact, while there was snow all along here, driving down the hill into Edinboro added almost a foot to what was on the ground. They apparently have their own little microclimate, and extra snow is not uncommon. It was awesome.

On up the road to BrewErie, where I was meeting owner Chris Siriani and brewer Gary Burleigh at 9. I parked, crunched my way over the snowpack to the door, and got there just as Gary was opening the door. He looked at me, very seriously, and said, "You didn't leave your dad in the car again, did you?" NO, I assured him quickly -- Gary recalled that my father usually went along on these trips as backup driver (and fulltime tourist) -- and I told him about my father's health (which is actually holding up pretty well lately; he's eating well, and sounds just like the old Sir on the phone, even looks good), but said that it's almost like he's still with me: he's calling or texting me every two hours! (And I'm glad you do, Sir, keep it up.)

We had coffee, and talked about how the BrewErie had come together in this big space that was the original home to Erie Brewing (as Hoppers), then a fine dining restaurant with beer called Porters, and then the brewpub. I tasted beers (safe to say Gary's not a hophead, but he does keep an IPA on that satisfies "the most finicky drinkers," he said with a wry grin. He also had a Girl Stout Cookie, a chocolate peppermint stout that was surprisingly accurate. I like it when brewers fool around like that.

A short run down to Erie Brewing was next, and Jim Hicks gave me the lowdown on the new owners and the new direction. The new direction? Bold. Erie's doing casks regularly, they've got a whole -bender line now -- Railbender, Ryebender, Smokebender, and Oakbender -- twisted off their flagship Railbender Scottish ale, they're messing with Ol' Red, too...and Jim is pushing hard for some sour beers. They're doing well: like I just saw in the Wyoming Valley, craft beer acceptance has come to Erie. There are a lot of places putting crafts on, and Erie Brewing's picking up a lot of that. They're looking at the in-house tasting room thing (a lot of brewers I've talked to for this said "That thing Tröegs did"), with a small menu and pint sales. Erie's got money, they've got direction, and they've got Jim.

I got out, had to get down to Straub for my next to last stop of what was already a long day. I left Erie about 1:00, and it was warm, up to 42! Sunny, fresh, music, air, and man, I got east of town, and it got cold again! It was a chilly but pretty run across the southwest corner of New York and then south to St. Marys through the Allegheny National Forest. I love this part of the state (except for the traffic lights in the small towns), and the Jetta just purred.

I got to Straub right on time: 3:30. And there was Matt Allyn waiting at the office door, starting to wonder where I was. We went right in to the Eternal Tap (as I said on Facebook: Many things change. Some are Eternal.) and got some beers. Pretty soon we were joined by Dan Straub and Bill Brock. Bill (also a family member; his mother is a Straub) is the new CEO. There have been some big changes at Straub, and Bill's one of them. He's the first CEO not to come up from the floor. And Matt, who is "interim brewmaster" -- yes, Tom Straub has left the company -- is the first brewmaster not to come up from the floor. "It's culture shock," Bill admitted.

They stressed, however, that there was no intention to change the beer. Matt's working on the process, but the recipe, the formulation stays the same. "50% of what's done here," said Matt, "is standard German lager technique. About 30% is modern techniques. And about 20% is "we do it because it works." We're re-evaluating everything. Most of it we'll keep, some of it we'll change." It sounded like most of what they were looking to improve was the shelf-life, and what was, in the opinion of most of the people in western PA I talked to about this, a persistent problem with diacetyl. I can't speak to that: I have learned that I have a very high sensory threshold for diacetyl, and just don't -- can't, actually -- smell it until it's overwhelming. That's one thing they're working on, anyway.

Another thing is a line of craft lagers. "Not a lot, not too much," said Brock. "We don't want to re-invent ourselves, or re-introduce ourselves. we don't want to do ales. We don't do ales. We're Straub. We've got all this modern equipment now, and we're looking at it, and thinking, "What would Peter Straub do?"" And Matt said, "I think he'd spend about half an hour looking at everything, and marveling at it, and then he'd say, "Let's brew, let's get to work."" I like to think he's right. When will we see this stuff? This year, maybe by September. Should be fun.

Then we went back to the Eternal Tap, and had a couple beers. It was great hanging out with these guys, and listening to Dan and Bill tell brewery and family stories. But...I had to go, because I had to get home. I did, however, stop on the way at Olde New York in State College, which I'd heard about many times: it's owned by the folks who ran the late, beloved Schnitzel's in Bellefonte. Well...the atmosphere isn't Schnitzel's, nothing is, but the beer and the food was pretty damned good. I was there to meet my buddy Sam Komlenic, because I had something for him: a bottle of George T. Stagg I got for him because his State Store had none (I got it at my State Store, so don't go thinking I went out-of-state and got illegal or something). It was a pleasant dinner -- always is with Sam -- and then...I drove three hours back home. All done with western PA. A week later, I'd be done with the northeast. The book's continuing...

Hot Times at Manayunk

I helped judge the Best of Show beers at the Manayunk Brewfest on Saturday. Once again, it happens just as allergy season is hitting me, so I loaded up on Sudafed (the real, sign at the counter stuff) and Chlor-Trimeton, kept my nose clear for the fest, and paid for it with dopey drowsiness later.

I got to the fest about noon, grabbed one of the last free staff spots, and got down into the show. I met up with my fellow judges (four very experienced homebrew judges who I thoroughly enjoy tasting beers with; it's a very nice give-and-take, making this one of my favorite beer events of the year), grabbed a quick lunch, and settled in to start tasting.

Wide range of beers this year, and a much higher level of quality. The brewers represented at the fest each sent one beer, their choice, over to our table. There were a couple eye-rollers, but only a couple (we're tasting completely blind (or were after the first two pitchers, which a new steward labeled with the brewery name!) and only found out what the top three actually were, so don't bother asking: we don't know (and didn't wanna know!)), much fewer than in the past four years.

After two hours of serious, note-taking and discussion-style tasting, we narrowed it down to seven beers, and sent the stewards out for more samples to refresh our memories. Two of the beers had already run out (proving the crowd agreed with our palates!), and since none of us had those two beers as our number one picks, we decided to drop them. Once the five beers were in front of us, we came to a consensus rather rapidly: about 90 seconds! The winners, by unanimous consent:

3rd -- Erie Railbender, winning with a beautifully pure malt character, easily the very best batch of Railbender I've ever had (and I've had my share).

2nd -- Victory Baltic Thunder, nipping out General Lafayette's Chocolate Thunder Porter (a close #4) by virtue of smooth complexity and (scary) drinkability.

1st -- Triumph Simcoe IPA, rocked us all with its beautiful balance and integration. Billowing hop aroma, great hop flavor, trenchant but not overwhelming bitterness, and a smooth, solid malt basement made this the beer of the day, and we all went looking for more.

I wandered off with Chris Fiery at this point, and we did a little sampling of his Manayunk beers. He'd sent his Maibock to our table; I think he should've sent the California Dreamin', a powerfully-hopped beauty. And if you haven't had the Schuylkill Punch lately -- I hadn't -- it's all Oregon fruit puree (red and black raspberries), no extracts or essences, it's bumped up in ABV, and it's pretty good stuff.

A nice fest, not as crowded as previous years (last year I could hardly move), one of the best M/F ratio fests going -- always has been, don't know why -- and a GREAT band, Holt 45 (with an appropriate name for a beer festival, eh?). Usually I don't give -- pardon me -- a rat's ass about the band at beer festivals, because they're just getting in the way of my beer enjoyment and talking to people about beer. But these guys were NOT too loud, they were way into the music, and they were real musicians.

So then I left, and unlike other years, made no stops on the way home. We went out for a diner dinner (bluefish...I love broiled bluefish), came home, watched some tube...and I crashed out, done in by drugs and allergies. The first week is always like this: dopey, drowsy, and stupid. I'm fighting it off with coffee and air-conditioning this morning. I hate May.

Western PA: The run home

Since I had to stay straight enough to drive 6 miles back out to my motel, I was in real good shape Sunday morning. Got up about 7:00, showered, dressed, and packed, and went downtown to pick up Woody. We broke our fast at the Zodiac Dinor (2516 State St., (814) 455-3543), where I had another Greek sauce omelette. Good omelette, but the Greek sauce was cold in spots: kinda like it had been heated up rapidly and unevenly. Bummer. Quiet on a Sunday morning. We read the paper and headed southeast.

I'd decided I wanted to skip the Interstates this Sunday morning, so we picked up Rt. 6 and then ran down through the Allegheny National Forest. Great roads, great ridge-running, and we made good time. Woody was dozing on and off, so I just let the Passat run and listened to the music. We ran I-80 for about 20 miles, then got off near Clearfield. I was headed for Otto's, but also for Port Matilda, where I pulled off for a kind of second breakfast at Clem's.


Clem's does barbecue, and I love it. I regularly go out of my way to get it, because Clem Panteleone agrees with my theory of barbecue: the meat is more important than anything: the smoke, the wood, the sauce, the atmosphere.

The smoke? Clem cooks his ribs hot, over fire. Heresy, but shut up and eat 'em. The wood? Clem uses oak because (he told me) hickory has too much flavor and masks the pig. Sauce? It's a rich red sauce, sweet and tangy, but it's not baked on like some places. And Clem's place has NO atmosphere; hell, it doesn't even have four walls or a place to sit. But the kid working the place did come out and offer everyone some wings to sample (I just don't eat wings any more, they're death on the diet, but I had one. Mmmmmm...). And the pork is just fantastic. I got a combo plate of a half rack of baby backs and a portion of boneless "country" ribs. Good Gawd, it was so good that I ate till I hurt. I hate doing that any more, but I held even on weight over the trip, so I guess I got away with it.

We wet-napped our faces and got out of there. Down to Otto's, the great brewpub on the west end of State College. No need for lunch, obviously, but I did get a half-pint of Arthur's Mild, and it was tasty and session-delicious. Owner-brewer Charlie Schnable took a break from epoxying the floor of his new coldroom to join us for a quick beer, then took me on a look in the brewhouse. It has filled up since the last time I was in there! Lotsa tanks, and Charlie's kind of wondering what he's gonna do next. Hope he keeps making the delicious beer he's been making.

We were joined at the bar by Sam Komlenic, who I last talked about in the WhiskyFest posts. Funny; I correspond with Sam fairly often, but this is the most I've seen him in two years. A pleasant change. As you can see from the picture to the left of Sam and Woody, Sam, another former "big guy," has benefited from the Weight Watchers program; dropped 30 lbs. and never stopped drinking beer and whiskey. It works, folks! Sam treated us to a sample of some pre-war rye whiskey, and it was damned nice. Thanks, Sam.

We were going to take a spin out to Millheim to see how the Elk Creek brewpub project was coming along, but I got a call from Cathy: my brother-in-law had had an accident and was on the way to the ER. We finished up and hit the road. About the time I dropped Woody off in Lancaster, I got another call: the brother was not as bad as we'd been told, and he was going to be fine. Good. Danke, Herr Gott. So I drove home, and enjoyed the presence of my family and my wee dog. A good weekend.

Western PA: Greek sauce, Festival, To the Lighthouse

My Erie Weekend: Part II (Part I is here).

I got up Saturday morning (April 21) hankering for a dinor breakfast (that's how "diner" is traditionally spelled in Erie; apparently no one is really sure why), and although I have a couple favorites, I'm always looking for something new. I fired up the Web and found the Lawrence Park Dinor, an authentic Silk City diner (Silk City made the "railroad car" diners; there are some modern diners named Silk City -- not the same thing): game on!

It was a long, somewhat complicated way off, so I MapQuested directions and a map, and took non-flash digicam pix of both screens with my new camera (a Canon A630, a bigger camera with more battery power and more comfort for my big hands, I'm very happy with the pictures I'm getting now): brilliant idea, worked like a charm, and after a 15 minute drive in the early morning sunshine, I pulled up in front of the beautifully maintained Silk City you see above. It's so damned authentic that it's on the National Register of Historic Places. How many of those serve breakfast?

I got a seat at the counter, right by the grill, where the owner, George Gourlias, was frying eggs and potatoes, slapping down the ham, and turning bacon. Gawd, it was tremendous. Coffee came quick and hot, and when I saw "Greek Sauce Omelette" on the menu, I knew it was for me.

Greek sauce is a puree of ground beef and spices similar to Coney Island sauce, usually put on hot dogs, often called "Texas Hots" or "Texas Wieners." Greek sauce is found all across New York State, from Brooklyn to Plattsburgh to Buffalo, but it's also all across Pennsylvania, from Philly to Scranton to Erie. When I was doing the research for the latest Pennsylvania Breweries, I found a very early reference to Greek sauce in Kane, Pa., up in the northwest corner, possibly pre-dating the Coney Island use usually given as the first (George said it was invented at Coney Island, for example).

George did his omelette French-style: a light cake of eggs, still moist, and tri-folded, with the Greek sauce ladled generously over the top. Great sauce, spicy but not overdone, and I tore into it. George has the place for sale; he's been there for 15 years, I think he said, has another restaurant on the west side of Erie, and is looking to open something different. He's certainly got a good business to sell: the Park was busy, friendly, and smelling great.

I finished breakfast, drove around a bit, then went back to the room and did some writing. About 11:00 I called Woody, arranged to meet him at the Maritime Museum, where he was touring the brig Niagara, Pennsylvania's flagship. Woody's retired Navy, and was fired up by the idea of the three-week sailing school course offered by the Museum. I picked him up and we headed for the brewpub for the fest.

You can see the 1920s public architecture influence on Union Station in this shot: it's a grand building, and the restoration inside makes BrewErie a great place to host a fest (although I'm afraid the carpet's going to need a cleaning; lotta spilled beer). I was signing books and working the crowd; saw plenty of old friends and tasted some great beers. Penn's Weizenbock was a great pour, as was the rye beer from North Country and a surprisingly huge and delicious barleywine from Hereford & Hops.

The three-hour sessions were a good idea, no one got out of hand. Actually, for a first-time fest, it was extremely well-run. The only problem I noted was that the crowd was allowed to linger after the first session was over. With only an hour between sessions, people were hustling to re-set for the second session, and the brewers didn't get much of a break. Lessons learned. On the other hand, it was good to have the second session done at 8:00: plenty of evening yet to enjoy!

Speaking of which...about 7:20, Mary showed up at my table. Did I still want to go out to the lighthouse? You bet! We made arrangements, and by 8 I was following Dorothy's Honda SUV out onto Presque Isle to the lighthouse, where she lives in the attached brick building. I offered up a growler of Brian Sprague's Hellbender Porter (rapidly accepted and poured into shaker glasses), and we made the ascent up 76 spiral steps to the top. You can see the view to the left. It was awesome. We were about 70 feet above ground level.

About this time we were joined by two more of Dorothy and Mary's friends (sorry, ladies, I should've written your names down!), one of whom was from Bucks County. We talked home ("Oh, no, that's been torn down. Nope, sold. Oh, yeah, used to be there, but they closed.") as the sunset slowly faded, and then the timber doodles came out. I had read in A Sand County Almanac about the way woodcocks fly up in the twilight and then spiral downwards, crying out as they dropped, but I'd never seen it. Woodcocks spiraled down around the lighthouse, and I was enthralled. What a great moment. But we had to go down, it was getting dark. You can see the steps as we descended in the picture: that's Dorothy on the left and the two later-arriving friends to the right.

Afterwards, Dorothy and Mary and I finished off the porter and talked beer for a while, then I finally headed back. The park was closed, but Dorothy told me how to get out past the gates. I saw deer and coons as I drove slowly down the isle (it's not actually an island, but has been in the past at times). I grabbed some dinner, picked up Woody, and headed back to the brewpub, which I've already told you about here. And that was pretty much Saturday. Just a bit more happened on Sunday. Coming up soon.

"You're not getting this, are you?"

I'm going to tell you about the Erie weekend (the pictures are too good to waste, and it was great to see this fest succeed so well in what is essentially virgin territory), but while I'm working on that, I wanted to take a break and talk about something that happened Saturday night, post-fest. It was about 11:00, and Woody Chandler and I had wound up back at the BrewErie brewpub, drinking porter and looking for Paul Koehler. Paul used to be the brewer at Pearl Street, in Buffalo; now he's working for Flying Bison, and looking like it agrees with him. I wanted to have a couple bourbons with him in honor of old times.

While we were working on our pints and looking for Paul, a guy came over and started talking to me; he'd recognized me and wanted to talk beer. Okay, I can do that, no problem. We talked beer, and we soon came around to finding that he was a homebrewer. From there it developed that he was a homebrewer with ambitions; he'd reached that point where he'd started thinking about going pro because he had what he thought were some good recipes. Well, okay, that's cool, that's how things get started. But then we started talking about the recipes: hops, hops, and more hops, 7%, 9%, 12%.

"What about a beer people can drink more than one or two of?" I asked him. "You might need to brew one of those."

He paused, looked thoughtful, and brushed it aside. "People drink anything they're told to," he said (or something like that; I was tired, we were drinking, it was late). "They just drink those weak beers because of marketing."

"Weak?!" I said. "5%'s not weak, and that porter I'm drinking is probably less than that. It sure isn't bland!"

Well, okay, he allows, but it's nowhere near hoppy enough. Hops do not equal flavor, I tried to explain to him, there are other components to beer flavor, and people like those other components. You can't get by as an all strong, hoppy beer brewery. (Paul had showed up by this time, and we were drinking Wild Turkey 101 and more porter.)

Mr. BigBeer of course brought up Dogfish Head, Three Floyds, and so on. I pointed out that all of them had struggled for years before getting their big beer agenda together, and they were all now pretty well established; someone starting from scratch might want to think about the local market.

"Well, I suppose that with enough marketing people would buy a 5% beer just to drink," he says.

"You're not getting this, are you?" I finally told him right to his face. "People don't buy 5% beers because they've been hypnotized by commercials. They buy them because they like the way they taste, and because they want to be able to drink more than one or two. They drink them because they want to have a beer that isn't going to sand-blast their palate. This isn't about marketing."

His wife eventually took him home; a friendly parting, really, he was a nice enough guy except for his session beer blindspot. But that blindspot continued to bug me, to the point of having to blog (and you know how I hate that).

Where does this attitude -- that people who don't like hoppy beers or big beers are stupid sheep who only think they like the beers they like -- continue to come from? Every time I ask that question, I'm assured that nobody really thinks that anymore, that we all get it, that Imus isn't really a racist... Yet every time we have a few after a fest, someone starts talking trash about "fizzy yellow beer drinkers" and how real beer drinkers begin at 6% and 50 IBU.

I'm not going to argue for session beers, or lambics, or malt-bombs. That's not the point, and besides, I've already done it. I want to argue against this pernicious and simple-minded "bigger is better" attitude among the geekerie.

Beer is nearly unique among alcohol beverages in that lower alcohol styles are still taken seriously -- at least by some experienced tasters. Lower alcohol spirits and wines are generally not well-regarded by critics, but most serious beer tasters will doff their caps to a good lambic or bitter. We should celebrate this. Beer is a drink you can tear into without getting swiftly whacked, a drink of moderation. Celebrate. Beer has a very broad sensory palate, not limited to one type of flavor. Celebrate. Beer is diverse, it has variety, this is what the whole microbrewery revolution is about.

People do not drink porter because it has been marketed to them. No one who makes porter has the money or the inclination to mount a huge marketing campaign to sell people on drinking porter. People drink it because they like it.

Hey, who knows: maybe some of the people who drink Bud do so because they like it! Maybe even Miller Lite!

Radical thoughts. Sorry, it's late. I know it's an article of faith among the cognoscenti that if people would just taste craft beer with an open mind, they'd all be drinking it. Nope. Not really. And there are millions of folks who drink 5% and lower beers all the time who love them: stout, helles, kölsch, pilsner. They're not all stupid sheep, and it's insulting to think of them that way.

Variety. That's what it's all about, and it runs both ways.

Western PA: Travelin' Man

I hosted a beer dinner and beer fest in Erie last weekend, and it was a big success. But to host it, I had to get there, which is why I drove across Pennsylvania on Friday, April 20; "4-20 Day," as Woody Chandler reminded me. It's also Woody's street number, and it's also Hitler's birthday. Really. I just happen to know that.

Who's Woody Chandler? Woody's one of the folks who picked up my mid-Atlantic column at Ale Street News. He's a character, a guy who wears a braided beard and black horn-rims, wears monks' robes to beer festivals, but a guy who is as honest as the day is long. So I offered him a ride to Erie. We rolled the Passat across the state, up to Harrisburg, the 322 route to Lewistown and then up to I-80 for an invigorating 140 miles before hanging a right onto I-79.

Then we got off at Meadville to stop in to see Matt Allyn at Voodoo Brewery. Matt's been working on Voodoo for a while, and he's finally getting close to opening, hopes for next month. He's brewed some test batches -- necessary to season and passivate the steel brewing tanks, an old German brewing tradition -- and Woody and I were happy to help him empty the tanks.

We were joined by Tim Bowser, seen in the picture to the left between Matt (in the red) and myself (in the overalls). Tim's working on opening a brewpub himself, Elk Creek in Millheim, PA. He was pleased to tell me that he'd landed a brewer for the pub -- not open news yet, apparently (tell me if I'm wrong, Tim!), but I know the guy and his beer, and Tim's done quite well getting him to move to Millheim.

What about that passivating beer? Pilzilla is a big (6-ish%) unfiltered kellerbier with a whopping hop nose that is not overpoweringly bitter. Wynona's Big Brown Ale was a hefty, powerfully flavorful, rich brown ale, with a hint of Scotch ale raunch to it. The Four Seasons IPA will change with the season (duh...); this one was big, dizzy with hops, and slippery-drinkable with balance. The White Magick of the Sun wit was tasty, zingy with Matt's blend of spices and peels (which includes 14 different peppercorns). But the killer was the Gran Met Trippel, brewed with a yeast from a small (unnamed) abbey brewery in Belgium that Matt says he got from Pierre Celis. He trains up the yeast by slowly adding cane and beet sugar to the fermenting beer, and the flavor is phenomenal: bright and spicy up front, orange smoothness in the middle, and then a remarkable creamy sensation on the finish. Quite a beer.

We thanked Matt and took off up the road to Sprague Farm & Brew Works in Venango, Tim following close behind us. As you can see, Brian and Minnie are still serving their beers from an old upright piano. I grabbed a Hellbender porter (my favorite at last year's opening) and followed a tour, mostly the Chisholm family (whose kids are pictured in the earlier post here, and who were also at Voodoo beforehand -- gotta love people who are so devoted they tour breweries before they're open!). The Ale Mary wit's still a briskly spiced delight, too. It sounds like things are going well at Sprague; the beer sure tasted fine, and I bought a growler of Hellbender to go.

We got back in the Passat and headed up the road to Erie, pausing only to check in at my motel to change for the dinner. I wore a close approximation of what I wore for the Pennsylvania Breweries taping: paisley vest, white shirt, dark gray pants. Kinda like this picture, only without the camera on my head.

On into Erie to the train station: BrewErie at Union Station was the site for tonight's dinner and the festival the following day. We settled in at the bar, and I got a sampler of all the beers so I'd know what I was talking about. All ales, that's what brewer Gary Burleigh does, mostly: blonde, nut brown, amber, porter, hefe, and IPA.

I took right to the porter, and that's really the source of my only complaint: there didn't seem to be enough differentiation between the porter and the nut brown. Both good, but not different enough. Well, the IPA was also under-hopped, but Gary'd already told me that; he was still dialing in the brewing system. "First IPA was way over-hopped," he said, "this one I over-corrected. Next one should be good."

That's when I met Mary. As she explained it later, she got there early for the dinner, and her friend Dorothy had told her I was the beer guy, so she didn't have anything better to do than strike up a conversation.

She told me she was a big fan of the pub beers, and that six months ago she'd been drinking Labatt's (Heh; Dorothy would tell me later that Mary was actually drinking Labatt Blue Light). 'And now?' I asked her. "Can't drink it anymore," she said with a grin. "Just doesn't taste like anything."

We talked more, and when Dorothy and more friends showed up we talked beer even more, and it turned out that Dorothy was the assistant park manager at Presque Isle State Park. Really? Really, she said, do you want to see the sunset from the lighthouse? Hell yeah! We'll get you up there, she said. Cool.

Then it was time for dinner. I was introduced by BrewErie owner Chris Sirianni and Erie public TV station WQLN's Tom New, the guy who put together the Pennsylvania Breweries show and, apparently, was one of the major movers behind the beer festival. I talked to the crowd about the growing acceptance of craft beer and about beer and food.

"It's acceptable and smart to talk about beer and food these days," I said. "Beer and food, pairings, what goes with what. I don't think that's half as important as the idea that beer is food. You put it in your mouth, it is nutritious, it needs to be kept fresh. Once you start to think of beer as food -- roasted grains, spiced with hops, flavored with fruits and herbs, and made with yeast just like bread -- beer with food is obvious. It goes with food like dressing on a salad, like sauce on meat or vegetables."

Totally off the cuff, but it sure made sense to me as I said it, and a number of people thanked me for the insight. Hey, bonus! We got tucked into dinner: a fine garden salad with baby beets, a buffet of chicken with brown ale sauce, roasted spuds, green beans, and prime rib, and that beer dinner classic, beeramisu. All quite tasty, and I continued to annoy the diners throughout. We hung around for a while afterward, having one last porter and signing a few books. Then I dropped Woody off at his CouchSurfing stop and headed out to the motel for the night.

Preview: Fun & Games in western PA

Three kids and a bunch of kegs at Sprague Farm & Brew Works in Venango. I drove across PA yesterday with Woody Chandler (yes, that Woody...the guy who took over my Ale Street News column for upstate PA) on the way to the beer dinner and fest in Erie, and we stopped in at Sprague and Voodoo. Good stories, good pix, good beer, but...I gotta get ready for the fest right now. Just wanted you to see how family-friendly breweries are, for now. Talk to you soon.