Marred Musings

Greater Expectations

A few weeks ago, my Friday evening unfolded as it customarily does; I found myself at the taproom of a brewery somewhere within a 3 mile radius from my home or workplace. This particular evening however, I realized something big had changed in regards to expectations of patrons at brewery taprooms (or maybe it’s in the process of changing still, I don’t really know, but something has changed). I realized this because my particular expectations were severely not met, and I was more surprised by it than I was upset.

My friends and I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. The bar wasn’t very full for a Friday night, but the mood was pleasant. The bearded bartenders serenaded each other in a lighthearted but responsible fashion, and it was endearing (it’s always nice to see people enjoying what they do to pay the bills). I ordered something, and the bartender delivered me a hazy beer in a shaker pint on a coaster, then trotted back to his little karaoke session. My friends took sips of their beers and nodded in approval, and I took a sip of my beer. I waited a few seconds and let that first sip hit me. I took another sip. I quickly sniffed the beer a few times. We had already had a few beers, so I wasn’t really trying to point out any flaws or anything, I just wanted to continue enjoying the evening with my friends over a beer or two at a new place, but I honestly couldn’t continue drinking what was set in front of me; it smelled like a perm, and tasted like burning rubber.

I didn’t say anything, but I gingerly handed my iceman pour over to my friends to have them taste it. They scrunched their faces and confirmed that I wasn’t being a regular picky-Pat, as I’m sometimes known to be. Shana said, “oh, this is a tire fire. Just ask nicely for a different beer. They want you to enjoy what you’re drinking just as much as you do.” Steph said, “yeah, this tastes off. Definitely ask for another one.” I said, “this really sucks. I’ll just drink it.” I attempted a few more sips, but just couldn’t continue. I flagged down Frank Sinatra Jr. and said with a shaky voice, “Uhm, this… this tastes off… it tastes like a perm, or like burning rubber… can I order another beer?” Without hesitation, the bartender got me whatever new beer I wanted without question, then went back to chirping with his coworker. The second beer had the same issue as well (confirmed by the rest of my party), but when the bartender came around and asked me how it was, I said it was fine — and yes, I ordered a different style of beer, not the exact same one as the first. This is where I realized that I was expecting something different from the bartenders at this small brewery.

I chose my words carefully to describe what was wrong with that beer. It’s because of how these specific words were ignored that I was disappointed, and didn’t want to continue the conversation with that bartender about why it was bad, or why the second beer was also bad. I explicitly described an off-flavor that occurs in beer when there’s a major yeast problem. I wasn’t about to say “HEY. TAYLOR-SWIFT-WANNABE. YOUR BREWERS ARE USING STRESSED YEAST, AND THIS BEER TASTES LIKE THE PAVEMENT AT THE START LINE OF THE INDY 500.” I thought I gave him very clear flavor descriptions that would indicate there’s something more going on than just some basic *B* who doesn’t like the beer in front of her. I realized that I expected quality beer that I was paying a premium for at a craft brewery, but I was not given quality beer (specifically on a production level, and with multiple beers), and the server hadn’t the faintest idea. This production issue became a front of house issue, and the front of house wasn’t trained on how to handle or identify the issue properly. I expected this bartender to take more care in understanding why a customer might not be enjoying their beer, as opposed to how a bartender at a large chain bar/restaurant would approach the same issue. I expected this bartender to say something like, “oh, yikes, that sounds gross. Tire fire? Let me pour myself a taste of it too. I should tell the brewer.”

This whole incident made it clear to me that knowledgeable and passionate brewers that hire and train knowledgeable and passionate servers are literally creating a new expected experience for craft beer consumers — a seamlessly confident and informed experience. These are the breweries that are pushing their staff to get educated about beer via Cicerone or BJCP or other means. These are the breweries that are giving their peers, like the one described above, a run for their money.