Lew Has Left The Building

I regret to say that four months after resigning my position as managing editor, I will no longer be writing a column or whiskey reviews for Whisky Advocate. After more than 20 years of being part of the voice of the magazine, I was told on Monday that because the magazine was "going in a different direction," my services in those capacities were no longer needed.

I was afforded an incredible opportunity, and I'm grateful for that, however it ended. It has also been a complete pleasure to work with this loosely-knit team of the best whisky writers in the world. Every three months, fascinating writing would arrive in my inbox, affording me a fantastic whisky education.

It has been an equal pleasure to work with representatives from all parts of the industry, to watch that grow from a solid core of long-term veterans in the mid-1990s to a small army of exciting new personalities as the industry entered another boom phase, and then to welcome the small producers of the craft distilling category. I very much look forward to continuing that association.

I've certainly also enjoyed the readers of the magazine: their excitement, their loyalty, their engagement, and their eager interest in the brown spirit that's entranced us all. It's been fantastic to meet you at the events over the years, and I hope to see all of you in the future.

Of course, I'm not leaving whiskey! There's a new book project to work on, I've returned to writing this blog (really, I have, and I know I owe you some whiskey reviews), and several magazines have welcomed me back as a freelancer (with more projects in the works). I'm also back to writing about beer, which I missed terribly, and that will now expand as well. I may even expand my writing into new areas; I have a couple projects percolating.

Onward and outward!

One door closes, and many more open. What do the different directions of the future hold for me? Nothing's sure, but I hope it holds more opportunities to see each of you, and more chances to work with you, in some capacity or another. I'm certain it will hold more chances to share a drink and some laughs.

My very best regards,

Lew Bryson

Seen Through A Glass

I noticed this morning at mass that today's New Testament reading was the inspiration for the name of the blog: First Corinthians 13: 1-13. It's probably not all that surprising -- to me, at least, knowing how my brain works -- that I wrote the first post in Seen Through A Glass on January 31, 2007, nine years ago, when the Church's 3-year cycle of readings would have brought the same verses up that week.
The Catholic Church doesn't use the King James Bible, of course, but I'm a writer: I do. So...here's a bit of explanation about why it's Seen Through A Glass. ("Charity" has also been translated as "love," and I choose to interpret it in this context as "kindness," or perhaps the "loving kindness" of the Quran.)

13: 1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. 

4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; 6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 

8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. 

11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

I believe in beer, O Lord; help me in my unbelief!

Why did I subject you to a Bible reading, and what does it have to do with beer, or whiskey? It has more to do with writing about beer and whiskey, more about the intent of the blog. It's an admission that I don't understand or know everything there is to know about these subjects, that I see only parts of them, and those likely imperfectly. It's also an explanation that despite the simple fact that the blog is a marketing tool for my writing and public appearances (surprise!), it's still not really about me, because of "charity."

Drinks writing without charity can be vicious, self-serving angriness, aimed at brewers and distillers, aimed at drinkers, aimed at purveyors and publicists, aimed at other writers. It can be caused by a lack of understanding, by seeing through the glass darkly (a reference to the low-quality mirrors of the day, compared in the verse to seeing clearly, face-to-face), or an overabundance of pride.

I try to practice charity in my drinks writing. I try to see what the brewer or distiller or blender was trying to do, I try to understand it, and I often give them the benefit of the doubt. I don't always succeed, but the intent's there, at least at the beginning. I'd like to see everyone make better beer, better whiskey. I'd like to see better bars, better stores, better restaurants. This is the point of good criticism. It's not to write something snarky just for the personal fun of it. It's to explain what the critic sees as shortcomings as a guide to what may be wrong. At least, it is if it's done with charity.

Charity doesn't mean you don't say what sucks, sucks. Because if it sucks, well, buddy, it sucks. Period. But you try to do it without gratuitous bloodshed. I'm sure you'd be able to find examples of where I've failed to show charity in my writing; I'll admit I'm not perfect. But I try, and I encourage others to try. Give something more than one sampling; give a new brewer a chance to get their act together. Don't prejudge a whiskey just because it has no age statement, or because it's blended, or because you don't like a company's politics. Try to understand a drink in its intended context.

When we exercise charity, when we embrace kindness, we find that people will listen, will try to cooperate, to change. When we try to listen to what a beer has to say instead of yell and boast of our skills and favorites, we learn, about the beer, about other drinkers, about ourselves.

I'm glad that this came along now, as I restart the blog. Good timing. To those of you who wished me well on my health issues; thank you. I'm feeling better, and the tastings will be out on time this week. It's a busy week, too: I'm at a Garrett Oliver panel discussion at City Tap Monday night, Tuesday morning is Groundhog Day at the Grey Lodge Pub (I'll be back after a two year absence, and I'm really looking forward to it!), I've got a ton of writing to do for Whisky Advocate and a collaborative project, and then Saturday I have a private Tasting Whiskey event at St. Andrew's in NYC.

I'll try to do it all with charity.

First Day: D.G. Yuengling & Son, America's Oldest Brewery

I am waiting for you, Vizzini! 
You told me to go back to the beginning... so I have.

--Inigo Montoya, The Princess Bride

As promised, I restarted my freelance career in earnest today, by going back to where things started: the Yuengling brewery, America's oldest, in Pottsville, Pennsylvania.

You see that sign on the wall? I touched that sign the very first time I ever visited the brewery, way back in the last week of December, 1982. It was closed that day, but I'd be back. I wrote the first story I ever wrote for pay about Yuengling, in a beer store newsletter I wound up producing for seven years, the same beer store newsletter that would get me my first assignment for what was then Malt Advocate, which would lead to my long-time column in Ale Street News, which would lead to Pennsylvania Breweries... 

I wanted to go back to the beginning...so I have.

I was joined by my old friend Scott Fasnacht, who was with me on a tour of Yuengling in 1985 that was a landmark for me -- my first real backdoor tour of a brewery -- and John Holl, editor of All About Beer, who had never been to Yuengling, and since I'm going to be writing my first All About Beer column about this visit for him, we thought it would be fun if he came along. 

We took the 11:00 tour: the old kegging line, the damp and dark lagering caves, the brewhouse, the machine shop, the canning line, and tasting in the Rathskellar, which didn't look much different from my son's first birthday, when we (his mother and I, and his four grandparents) took him on the tour and got his picture with a man who was there to take the tour for his 81st birthday (if I could find the picture, I'd share it). I got a hand-rolled Black & Tan: Porter and Premium. Still tasty stuff, by God.

Then we went across the street where they've almost finished refurbishing the old Yuengling creamery, where they used to make Yuengling ice cream (one of the many things Frank Yuengling did to get through Prohibition). The place looks great, with a huge gift shop area (the brewery merchandise has always been some of the best) and a nifty tasting room with a beauty of an old tap box and what I was told was the backbar out of what had been the oldest bar in Schuylkill County. Neat stuff, opening soon. 

Then we went over to the expansion brewery, the Mill Creek facility. I was very happy to run into Dave Casinelli, the COO, and the man who has a large part of the credit for making the brewery the success it is today (he'd say the main share goes to Dick Yuengling, and it's hard to argue that!). Dave welcomed me back to beer -- which I have to admit, was a thrill -- and I asked him how things were going. I got an honest answer, which I'll be talking about a bit in that column; you'll just have to wait!

We walked on down to the beautiful new bar and hospitality room, where they showed us this video. I have to say; it was well-done, and moving. It's 27 minutes long; take the time to watch it, there's some great stuff in there. Because the really neat thing about Yuengling is that they don't have to make up anything; they've got a story a marketer would kill for. They don't hide anything, they don't try to make what they are or what they do anything except what it actually is.

And then...I drove home. Once again, a freelancer. Once again, a beer writer. Back at the beginning.

Watch This Space...

Something's fermenting; distillation to follow.

See the timer for when we tap the keg and pop the bung.

Happy New Year.

A Pilsner Urquell story

The first was in September. I was at the brewery in Pilsen, in the Czech Republic. We saw the huge, modern brewery with the big copper brewing kettles (heated by direct fire) and the massive stainless fermentation and maturation tanks . . . all aboveground. Then we were led below ground, into nine kilometers of tunnels cut through the native sandstone.


Down here, in the dim, wet halls where all Pilsner Urquell used to be lagered in great wooden barrels, they still make a small amount of it in the old, traditional way: fermented in open vats, aged in the big barrels that are still made by an onsite cooperage, and cooled by the natural temperature of the earth. They do that to make sure the beer made the modern way tastes the same as the old school stuff.

Vaclav handing Thomas his first beer

And there I was, in the very birthplace of pilsner, drinking fresh-as-life beer tapped directly from those barrels, with none other than the Pilsner Urquell brewmaster, a huge blond bear of a man named Vaclav Berka. It was cool, deliciously zingy with Saaz hop aroma and bitterness, and fantastically fresh.

The second moment was in mid-October. It was my son’s 21st birthday, and I managed to get him to hold off having a drink until 4:30 in the afternoon. That was when we went to a Pilsner Urquell event (at City Tap House), and my son’s first legal beer was a Pilsner Urquell, tapped and handed to him by a huge blond bear of a man . . . named Vaclav Berka. I got the next one, and it was cool, deliciously zingy with Saaz hop aroma and bitterness, and fantastically fresh....


And you can read the rest of that story here. It's a trade journal piece, but a good piece. And I have a follow-up, too. Yesterday I picked up a liter of unpasteurized Pilsner Urquell in the beautiful bottle you see to the left. I got it from the people at Muller Beverage, who told me it was one of only 60 in the country (edit: Ahhh...no. It was actually one of 60 that Muller got, which is quite a bit different! I was moving fast, and it was a simple misunderstanding. My apologies to all). They also told me I should drink it right away, because it had been held up in shipping because of Hurricane Sandy (that bastard).

So I did. I picked up some lobsters at a local supermarket (I'd say where and give them a plug, but they sold me a piece of bad bluefish at the same time, so screw 'em), got some barbecue mushrooms at the farmer's market, and went home to Cathy and Thomas. I popped open the liter, poured it into two beautiful Pilsner glasses I got at the Grey Lodge some years back and cherish, and Thomas's mug (which you see in Vaclav's big hand above), and we drank that sweet thing... And we all said, hey, that's pretty good! And it was. I hope the whole Express Shipped Cold thing works out, because then we'll see more of this kind of thing, and it won't just be lucky journalists and bar owners who get this delicious stuff.

RIP, Bob Ryan

I just found out that Bob Ryan, the former owner of Ryan's Beverage (now North Wales Beer) in North Wales, died about a month ago. His passing was probably not noted by many, but Bob had a very significant impact on my life: he bought my first piece of beer writing.

I was working at a small pharma company in Fort Washington at the time, late in 1993. My friend Tom Lawler walked into my office and tossed a piece of paper on my desk; it was a one-page, one-side newsletter from Ryan's Beverage (Tom lived about four blocks from there at the time). "You can do better than this," he said. I looked at it, and he was right, I could. So I did. I ran up a two-sided newsletter on a cheap desktop publishing suite I had (DOS-based, can you believe it?), a story on Saranac and Matt Brewing, put a snazzy masthead on it, and gave it to Tom. I had a cover letter that said, essentially, I'd like to do this for you. If you like this one, it's free; if you'd like more, I'll do them for $25.

Bob liked it. I wrote newsletters for Ryan's for seven years, and their craft and import business grew. I'll take a little credit for that, but mostly it was Bob's hustle (and the energy of his wife, Connie). Bob was always smiling, always thinking, and made the most of his little sidestreet space. I got up there fairly often; did tastings, did book signings once Pennsylvania Breweries came out, helped out with beer selection occasionally.

Finally, the newsletter got to be more work than it was worth for me as I got busier with better-paying gigs, and I had to tell Bob I couldn't do it anymore. That was after the shakeout in 1996, and the business was tougher. Eventually, Bob came to me and asked advice on what to do. I gave him the best thoughts I could, but he wound up selling (to a guy from my local beer store!). I heard from him occasionally after that, but with him out of the business...

Then this morning I got an email from Connie; she'd seen my name on LinkedIn, and wanted to let me know that Bob passed away last month, from Parkinson's. It's a sad moment. Bob, more than any other one person, is responsible for what I do now, for how I got here, for all the great experiences I've had, and for all the help I've been able to give to craft beer and rye whiskey.

Cheers, Bob! I hope you're getting a chance to rest.

Big American Whiskey Article

Once again, I wrote the annual American Whiskey piece for Massachusetts Beverage Business magazine, and it's up here. Have a look, let's talk about what I got right, and what I missed, and what I screwed up!

New gig at All About Beer

I'll be taking over John Hansell's seat in All About Beer's long-running Beer Talk beer review section, effective immediately. John's handing over the next four beers to be reviewed to me tomorrow. I'm honored to be part of this small, select group, and doubly-honored that John nominated me directly to the magazine staff as his replacement. Should be fun, swapping review opinions with Steve Beaumont.

Big News for Malt Advocate

The magazine I've been with longer than almost any other, Malt Advocate, has been sold to M. Shanken Communications (the publishers of Wine Spectator, Cigar Aficionado, Food Arts, Market Watch, and Impact). This is big news for whisky-lovers -- Malt Advocate is the clear leader in the American market, and thanks to John Hansell's blog, What Does John Know?, a world leader as well -- and it's also big news for me.

The details are here. It's a great opportunity to increase the magazine's circulation, given the experience and resources the parent company now brings. We'll have opportunities to do more stories, maybe go to 6 issues a year, and get more support for WhiskyFests.

If you're worried about what it might mean for the quality and independence of the magazine...don't be. John's made it clear to me and to Mr. Shanken that the magazine will continue an independent path, without connection between editorial and advertising, the same as it's been from the beginning. John will continue as editor and publisher, his wife Amy will continue as events director, the offices will stay in Emmaus with the same staff. I'm still the managing editor, and the writers are still the same.

But we've got a chance to bring you more Malt Advocate now. Time for us to join the big leagues.

Pennsylvania Breweries 4 done with edits

I just finished up the edits on Pennsylvania Breweries 4. I'm donating a copy to a homebrew contest as a prize (to be mailed in September) and wrote this description for a prize certificate: it sounded so good I thought I'd share it:

This latest edition has 74 breweries, almost 300 of the best bars in the state, lodging suggestions, nearby attractions for the road-tripping beer traveler, some history, and Lew’s rambling entertainments on brewing, craft beers, Pennsylvania regional food, the state’s best beer fests, and more. The 4th edition is 50% bigger than the 3rd, and almost entirely new material.

Damn! I want to read that myself! It really is almost all new material, too. I'd say it's more than 85% new. This is not just the 3rd edition with new breweries.

More Clear Spirits

I did the Vodka issue cover story for Massachusetts Beverage Business again, and I remembered and rediscovered the romance of the liquor.

Back in the day, I was a straight-up vodka man.  I’d started swilling vodka mixed with anything sweet, but then I met a Russian girl who challenged me to drink chilled half-ounce shots of Smirnoff with her.  I was hooked.  I never saw her again, but I retained a love for the subtleties of straight vodka. 
There’s not a lot of us.  “1O% of my clients drink it straight,” said Ryan Maloney at Julio’s Liquors, “and I’m probably exaggerating."

I got excited, and I challenged the retailers I was writing for to get excited again as well.

Clear glass and vibrant color; anonymous buzz in a Bloody Mary and teasing subtlety in a ritual glass; faceless Slavic liquor and storied European spirit; bottom shelf rocket fuel, solid reasonable value, and high-priced luxury badge; anesthetic, inspiration, refreshment, amusement, tasty temptation, and effortlessly sophisticated companion to the finest caviar . . . To call this protean liquor “colorless, odorless, and tasteless” sells it terribly short.  If you’ve been pushing it without romance, maybe it’s time to think again about what vodka is, and what it can be.

I'm looking for thimble glasses, and planning a zakuski party.

Time for a change

As I put out the garbage this morning, I heard the honking of geese overhead. I thought, I have always been more moved by the southward flight of geese than by their springtime return. I don't know why. Fall and winter are my favorite times of year. I loved the deep, snowy winter we just had, and spring annoys me. Maybe it's as simple as the allergies I get in the spring -- miserable time for me -- maybe it's because I've always been a fat booger and warmer weather means no more bulky clothing camouflage. I don't know. But the thought makes me wonder about exploring new directions. It's a time of rebirth. My eyes and my mind are open.

Growing up

I dropped Thomas off at school this morning; he had to take his suit along to change into for a mock trial event this evening. It was a clean, wet, cool morning, brightly sunny, full of promise. He stepped out of the car, got the suit out of the back, and paused. I looked back, and he was calling greetings to friends in the parking lot. Then he ducked his head in, said "Thanks, Dad. See you later," and closed the door. As I pulled away, I saw him in the mirror: tall, slim, smiling, holding his suit in one hand, backpack slung over the other shoulder, dressed in a light tan sport jacket and a pink tie. He looked...ready, ready to run with the advantages I now realize that Cathy's planning and pushing have offered him.

I drove away, musing that his four years at Holy Ghost Prep really have seemed to fly by, just as everyone told us they would at the beginning of his freshman year. I remember that first year, when Thomas matured so quickly; he became more responsible about his schoolwork, he showed signs of the strong ethical character that he would develop, and he became more engaged in dinnertime conversation.

I remember his sophomore year, when victory and tragedy struck his life. He won the state championship in his division in forensics (original oratory) in his first real year of competition, and he showed the cheerful nonchalance that's become a signature for his success. Then during a forensics tournament in Boston, his teammate and classmate, Yuriy Tutko, died suddenly in his hotel room. The team came home together, on the train, and we met them at Trenton. The memorial service at the school was tearful and dignified; students from ten schools came to honor Yuriy. Thomas was a pallbearer at the funeral. I saw the man my son was becoming, and felt his grief, and wept with my own confused mix of emotions.

I remember junior year, as the run to college began, and Thomas struggled with school and with forensics. He would finally beat his academic problems into submission and score well on his SATs, and placed in the quarter-finals in a national forensics tournament. Cathy and I stayed at her mother's home near Poughkeepsie and drove two hours at the crack of dawn -- twice -- to watch him compete. He dated, he went to parties, and really became a teenager. Yes, that means he started to develop the independence that's necessary to develop as a person, but no, that's not a codeword for "sullen and contrary." He remained a good kid; more so, if anything.

I don't remember his senior year; he's in it, and the fall is too close for me to think of it as memories. It's yesterday. I do remember our vacation in August, when we toured colleges in New England and tried to have some fun as well. I remember Thomas at Point Judith, Rhode Island, down on the beach, looking at the rocks and shells on the shore, and looking out across the water for a long time. I'd watched him do that in Bar Harbor two years before, and one of our favorite pictures of him, when he was 12, is the boy framed in trees at the edge of Lake Durant in the Adirondacks, stopped in apprehensive wonder as he looks across the lake at the mountains beyond, limned in the light of early morning. A parent often wonders what their child is thinking; it's those moments when Thomas is looking across the water to the horizon that I find that wonder grips me most strongly.

I sometimes miss the little boy I loved 15 years ago, 12 years ago, 10 years ago. He was sweet, and he sat in my lap and would hold my earlobe as he snuggled up and fell asleep. He would listen intently as I read to him. He held my hand when we walked, he hugged me all the time (he still does, a lot, and that's good). I'm sad, sometimes, to think that I will never, ever see that little boy I loved so much again.

But I would not trade him -- not for a day! -- for the man he has become. The man I saw this morning, standing tall, smiling and confident, in the bright January morning.


Forgive a father's ramblings. If you came here this morning looking for beer or whiskey news, or rantings and ravings, I'm sorry; come back soon, because I've got some good stuff coming about the surprising beer scene in northeast Pennsylvania. But I had to write this today, because sometimes a writer has something inside them that they just have to get out. I understand if it's not your cup of tea.

Still alive...

If you're wondering why I've been missing...I've been working. I was in western PA last week visiting breweries (and I've got a report on that underway, and good news on Penn), I wrote about 8,000 words over the weekend and Monday, and did more brewery visits yesterday...and I've got more scheduled tomorrow and Friday. Busy, busy, busy, but not much blogging.

More on Beer Cocktails

We talked about beer cocktails back in Session #27, and I mentioned I had written a piece on them for a cooking magazine. The magazine is Fine Cooking, and the piece is up on their website; have a look. I wouldn't point it out -- I don't point out all my stuff to you, after all! -- except that it's my first piece in a food magazine, and that since it came out less than a week ago I've already had four people mention it to me. Guess I need to pitch more food magazines.

And yes, Stephen, I've sold out to beer cocktails. And you know? Not only is the money pretty good, but they don't taste bad, either.

Can I get some technical help?

There's a blog out there called Doc's Tavern that is copying beer blog posts (mine, The Beer Philosopher, and Musings Over A Pint, among others) in entirety and posting them without attribution, credit, or linkage. Can someone more technically adept than me find out who's hosting the site and find an address where I can send a Takedown Notice? At this point, all I have is an e-mail address (abuse@websitewelcome.com), and I have to get an address to send a paper copy (or a FAX number).

I know some of you know this InterWeb stuff; can you give me a hand? Thanks!

Okay! Thanks, I've got what I need. Time to take care of business.

Legal torpedo deployed. We'll see what happens.

Got a response from the web host telling me to change the format of my complaint. Okay, doing that. (When I find out what works, I'm telling everyone.)

Heh. Sweet.

Get your Irish on

I've got two new pieces up at Massachusetts Beverage Business's website for March: one's on Irish beer, the other's on Irish whiskey. Two pretty good pieces, if I say so meself. There's also a fun sidebar on Welsh booze in the whiskey piece.

Why We Drink: Not just me

I just saw that Maureen "Ambitious Brew" Ogle linked to my "Why We Drink" post with a thoughtful post of her own. She's good at that: the thoughtful part, that is, though she's very good about linking and giving credit, too.

What's even better is that she got it:

I don't think Lew was advocating drinking to excess, or even making drink the center of one's life. Rather, I think he was expressing frustration at the notion that having a drink is the same thing as being a drunk.

Bingo. And as she says later,

The idiots among us ("Oh, I don't drink. I [don't] need alcohol to have fun.") don't (or won't) understand that good alcohol tastes good, and things that taste good produce pleasure.

That feels good. I mean, having written something that someone else gets so well. It was nice to get linked to on such a deeply thoughtful blog. Which leads up to...I can't believe I didn't link to it before now. I'll fix that.

LewBryson.com Troubles

If you happened to come here after finding my "name site" down -- http://www.lewbryson.com/ -- well, my apologies. It's been a long morning already at 9:30 AM. My domain registry expired yesterday, although I thought I had an auto-pay set up: turns out that I should have paid attention to the e-mail from my service, warning me that their auto-pay system was down till Spring...I've paid, manually, and the site should be back up in a couple hours.

However, it means that my e-mail is also down, which is a major handicap. So as a notice to anyone who has business with me: if you have to send e-mail to me today, please use this address. Thanks, and my apologies for the inconvenience.

Is it too early for a beer?

Update: everything came flooding back Tuesday morning, so the usual e-mail is back online, as is the website. Apologies again, and thanks to all who adapted!

Zlate burieZ Zima

My thanks to fellow Malt Advocate writer Terry Sullivan for sending this Slate article on the End of Zima. Funny stuff (and I loved the slap at Miller Clear). I never could figure out why Coors kept Zima on life-support...but Koerner falls down on the job a bit when he doesn't mention that this "it's not dead yet!" strategy paid off in spades for Coors with Blue Moon, which came out just a couple years after Zima. So it's not all stupid.