The Humble Gourmand

This month’s dispatch comes from a colder, snowier place than the one to which I’ve become accustomed. I left political dead-spot Washington, D.C., to visit lively Cleveland, Ohio, for a weekend of canvassing and electioneering, as well as to make a pilgrimage to the Great Lakes Brewing Company, a socially conscious, environmentally friendly brewery minutes from Lake Erie.

The brewery prides itself on a low-impact approach to making beer, including using alternative sources of energy, baking spent beer grains into pub-made breads and pretzels, and reusing vegetable oil from the pub’s fry-making to power a van that shuttles soused patrons to Indians games.As my tour guide told us, “We want to make money, but not at the expense of the environment. That’s just what we do.”

Even before getting to the brewery, I had a warm feeling about GLBC, due to what I’ve read about its exceptional business model. Or it could have been a result of a bottle of the GLBC Christmas Ale, a beer that has achieved almost cultlike status in Cleveland. (The person with whom I was staying bought the last three cases from the brewery, preparing for the 11-month, non-Christmas drought). Brewed with honey and spices, the beer had a wonderful gingery brown-sugar sweetness. Its 7.5% alcohol by volume (ABV) gave it a warming backbone perfect for a snowy Cleveland evening. A lovely start, but in retrospect maybe a poor way to open a long night of sampling beer.

The brewpub, built on the site of a 19th century brewery, was a welcoming meeting spot in a city of abandoned and looming warehouses. The beers were a reflection of the warm refuge provided by the pub – a collection of hearty, high-alcohol brews rich in flavor and substance.

The IPA had a floral and fruity hop character followed by a creamy caramel aftertaste. The lager was sweet and malty, nothing like the classic, insipid American lager. The imperial stout was profoundly dark, full of burnt caramel and dark chocolate. The porter lingered on the tongue with malt, brown sugar, and coffee. The pale ale was creamy and floral, a perfect accompaniment to my grass-fed burger with local bleu cheese. The wit was perfectly spiced, with an aroma somewhere between chai and baked beans (and I mean that in the best way possible). The Irish ale, my least favorite of the beers, was still a well-balanced brew with nice hop and barley aromas.

My last beer of the night was the in-season barleywine, a 10% ABV monster served in a snifter. I felt warm and contented with each sip of the rich, brown-sugary brew, and could have easily imagined myself drinking port at a ski chalet in Vermont. I was still in Cleveland, though, surrounded by the warehouses and factories of that city. GLBC has done something wonderful, creating a bastion of comfort and conscientiousness in the middle of the city, a place for people to gather and appreciate the glory of what beer can be.