Marred Musings

Stillwater Artisanal via Clayton, MO

Impairment #1: “mono” – a Galaxy Dry Hopped Pilsner by Stillwater Artisanal Ales

Impairment #2: “readymade: vacuum” – a Smoked India-Style Black Ale by Readymade and Stillwater Artisanal Ales

Listening to: Hurtling Through – a new album by Tiny Ruins

I went to St. Louis a couple weeks ago for a hockey tournament, and as hockey players are wont to do, I drank. A lot. We stuck to the environs of the city for libations for the majority of the weekend due to rink and hotel logistics, but on our way out of the  Gateway to the West, our trusty craft-beer-guru-center Steph insisted we stop at Craft Beer Cellar in Clayton, MO before we cross to the other side of the Mississippi. I trust her always. She’s yet to misguide me. I blindly followed. I was not disappointed.

Quite honestly, the Craft Beer Cellar sent me into an existential crisis. This isn’t very hard to do as of late, I must admit, but I think it’s because I’m feeling more connected to the universe than I have been before, and walking into this little craft beer shop only intensified this feeling for me. I was resistant to embrace it though, and while I could blame it on being tired from the tournament and just wanting to get home, it’s more likely because I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on myself for not being as attentive to this blog as I would like to be (an unintentionally debilitating self-criticism, resulting from the very real “idea debt” that my co-worker recently introduced me to). In any case, I followed my teammates and walked through the delightfully charming door of the Craft Beer Cellar while trying to keep my eyes to the ground.

My resistance set in as a foreboding presence. I sensed that something would happen within me if I didn’t avert my eyes and simply follow a friend in and out of that place. I stared at my shoes. I have a hole forming near the big toe of my left boot. I heard glasses clinking and people chatting. My attention was drawn to the back of the store, which housed an inviting and homey tasting area. I gradually looked up; I can’t resist community. I crossed my arms and tried as best as I could to ignore how enticing each bottle looked on the dark shelves and in the florescent-lit fridges that lined an entire wall of the store… how the display of each brand and different brew seemed like an approachable and interactive art gallery… how every label screamed “THIS IS ART AND EXPRESSION AND A VESSEL FOR IT AND HERE IT IS IN ALL ITS COLLABORATION, AND IT’S AMAZING BECAUSE IT EXISTS AND IT’S PERPETUATING AND AFFECTING PEOPLE AND THINGS AND FEELINGS AND THOUGHTS AND ACTIONS AND COMMERCE.” I couldn’t resist any longer. I succumbed to the craft beer call. I filled a basket full of brown bottles encasing one art form, encased by another. Craft Beer Cellar – you got me. You got me good. I bet you get a lot of unsuspecting people. I feel used, but satisfactorily so. You have so much to give, and in return, you’ve got my loyal patronage. This is a good relationship.

Tonight, two weeks after this tailspin of a beer-buying experience, I finally cracked open a couple of the bottles I picked up that weekend (don’t judge me – I had some other beer that I had to go through first that wasn’t worth blogging about. It might have been LaBatt, but it might not have been. Let’s not talk about it). I realized I grabbed a few bottles by the same brewery, Stillwater Artisanal Ales, so I decided to try those two brews on this solitary, serene Friday evening in March.

I started with their “Mono”, a Galaxy Dry-hopped Pilsner. As a lighter, less aggressive-tasting beer by normative standards, I’m usually prone to beginning an evening with a pilsner, to ease my way into an alcohol-ridden adventure. However, I’m almost inclined to say that this pilsner is the equivalent to a really swift trot into chilly water, as opposed to a cannon-ball, or by contrast, a tepid toe-dip (which is what I’m usually looking for in a first drink). It’s in the middle of the “POW!” scale (yeah, I just made that up). It’s got hop, as it states right on the bottle, but it’s more on the front-end. It’s pungent, with very apparent citrus notes that twist your nose hairs to attention, but upon sipping, it’s got a more earthy, tame, and flat taste to it. It’s a more aggressive pilsner by pilsner standards, but it’s still a pretty tame pils, and something I’d have one glass of, but I’d probably move onto something else after that. It went down pretty quick though, and I’m completely fascinated by the label.

The label is apparently, as their website states, an homage to Massimo Vignelli, an influential Italian designer who I’m now really interested in learning more about. He’s got a documentary on the typeface Helvetica, apparently. I’ve heard about it tangentially, but haven’t ever really looked into it. Now I’m going to. Thanks, beer. We’ve all got googling capabilities, so I won’t go into too much detail about how much this guy has designed and how much of it we all see and interact with everyday (I’m lookin’ at you, New York City Subway signage, and you, American Airlines), but stepping back from the granular content of the label, what I really, really enjoy about Stillwater and this label is that it’s referencing and integrating other art forms. It’s a wink and a hat tip to something – someone – great. Inter-connectivity. Influence. Affect. It’s making me be more interested and aware of other areas and people in the world that I otherwise would not have known about. What a lovely pilsner.

The second beer of theirs that I picked up is just as much of a journey- the “Readymade: Vacuum.” First and foremost, it’s just downright gorgeous. It pours perfectly (at least this batch does). The head is full-bodied and creamy, and it sticks around for an appropriate amount of time. At first whiff, it’s unbelievably smokey. My first sip made me think I swallowed the smoke billowing from a homemade oil-drum BBQ roasting a pig (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s just a very apparent thing). It made me want chocolate, and a glass of water. Maybe I shouldn’t slap the causation label on this so hastily, though… I never don’t want chocolate. As I let it sit over the course of an hour (it’s a sipper, friends, it’s a sipper), it became way more enjoyable. It’s a lot more manageable at warmer temperatures. The smokiness becomes a nice companion to a sweetness that seeps through, and the rest of the flavors open up in a very rounded, complete, and comforting way. It’s got a bit of a crispy bite to it as well, which to me, makes it a perfect beer for the transition from winter to spring, specifically here in Chicago. It’s like a nod to the coming warmth, but it’s resolute in its wintery attributes and flavors.

And that label, though.

It’s a reference to Steiglitz!!! Well, kind of. Indirectly. But I just love Steiglitz, so that’s where my attention goes. It’s minimalist, the colors are reminiscent of mid-century pallets, as is the handheld vacuum, but that’s almost a kind of chronological misplacement, as this whole label is a direct reference to Dadaism and Duchamp’s Fountain (photographed by Steiglitz) from 1917, not the mid-century… I don’t know, I’m not an art critic, I’m just trying to pick out what this label could potentially mean, hopefully learning a thing or two here and there. Is it a half-assed attempt at high-brow art, or is it a deeper reference and criticism on the craft beer world? It could be interpreted so many ways… I still enjoy the dialogue it’s creating; whether it’s conjuring up some legitimate anger from art critics worldwide, or it’s inspiring a drinker somewhere to look into Duchamp’s Readymade series more deeply, it’s something, and I appreciate it.

Cheers.