Craft Beer Attitude Adjustment

Rock stars should remain in the music industry— they should not be in the world of craft beer. Beer geeks have long celebrated, even venerated, their favorite brewers, raising their stature far above that of mere mortals. Not satisfied to let their brewing brethren hog the limelight, a new breed of craft beer bar owner is laying claim to the punchy musical sobriquet.

In the earliest days of craft beer, brewers experienced near impenetrable barriers to getting their products served in local bars. Locked into the big-beer matrix and mentality, bar owners couldn’t envision a time when their customers would want to pay extra for dark, cloudy or bitter beers. Some would politely accept a few sample bottles to get the upstart brewer out of their establishment, only to drain-pour them later. Bars dominated by gleaming towers of dozens of styles weren’t even imaginable.

In these rough early days, a few enterprising craft beer bar owners from Portland, Ore., to Portland, Maine, saw the potential for a new world order of beer flavors. They usually had spent some time in Europe, whether it be hours with cask-conditioned ales in lively English pubs or surrounded by nature, clinking liter mugs of Helles in a German beer garden. They knew a world beyond the narrow, macro-defined borders and wanted to help foster a similar beer culture in their towns. True titans of craft beer, these pioneers gave shelter and sustenance to the fledgling craft beer movement. Their actions helped craft brewers gain the respect of the drinking public and led to other bar owners opening their taps to new beers. This trailblazing generation perhaps ended with the passing of legendary Horse Brass Pub owner Don Younger, who was one of the earliest proponents of Oregon craft beer.

Following in the wake of this greatest generation is a new class of craft beer bar, one that radically changes the dynamic from enjoying to worshipping craft beer. Often aloof, superior and snobbish, these new-era craft beer bars exude a growing sense of entitlement, celebrating a self-reverential state of being. They are more about fronting a sort of better-than-you, punk-rock attitude than actually providing a place where customers, whether craft beer converts or not, can feel welcome to sit down and have a few pints.

In an era where we can access great craft beer from Tampa to Tokyo, what really makes a world-class beer bar nowadays? It has to be about more than exalting scarcity, promoting rarity and focusing on some of the least-accessible beers on the planet in a never-ending game of one-upmanship. In such bars, prices skyrocket, and it’s not unusual to find miniature pours for north of 10 bucks. While interesting on a theoretical level or as pure beer porn, this new kind of beer bar couldn’t be further from what made the humble, pioneering craft beer bar owners great.

And it’s unsurprising that craft brewers are less than excited about such outfits. While brewers have to play the rarity game in order to satisfy these buzz bars, they know that there is no brand loyalty to be found in these beer ticker dens, whose tap handles fall as soon as the next cool rarity turns up.

For a beer bar to achieve greatness, it has to be about a diverse selection, not just a rare one. It has to be about reasonable prices, a balance of alcohol and style ranges, and support for a well-chosen collection of local brewers. But at its core, a great beer bar must educate its staff and foster an environment where arrogance and pretension find no shelter. They must maintain a sense of openness for new customers who might not be as schooled in craft beer.

In short, let’s cut the attitude and get back to what makes craft beer great. There should be no royalty in craft beer, only an assembly of like-minded fans of flavorful beer. ■