Sun. Mar 3rd, 2024

“A bit more clumsy than a pub CRAWL.”

Written by Ye Olde Scribe

(Note: I pasted this first beer-related submission for Scribe as is, as he requested when he called: no editing. Oh, and the wisecracks are his and his alone.-Ken Carman)

Back in the STONED age, Ye Olde Scribe; who prefers beer, wrote a column called Hop-ing Around. Ah, kiddies, let Great, Great Grandpa Scribe tell you about a time when brewing dinos like Market Street in Nashville, Santa Rosa in Fort Walton Beach and Hosters in Columbus had yet to sink in the primordial ooze that is the history of beer making. One might refer to it as the La Brea Brew Pits. The competition to have your homebrew become part of the Longshot line of beers brewed by Sammy MaGilicuddy Adams; distant cousin to Ma Barker of the Ms. Barker Pump Em’ Full of Lead Brewpub, was in it’s first incarnation and then died.
(Note. Sam’s middle name is NOT “Magilicuddy,” and in no way is related to Ma Barker, or even Ms Me-ow-er. She never ran a brewpub. YOS just made that all up.)
But like Longshot, Scribe has gone Phoenix because one of the king-like editors at this digital rag kept ASH-king. This friend, who visits Scribe in his bunker somewhere in the New England area… or not… when he’s working up here, asked Scribe to write about beer again. So, OCCASIONALLY, Scribe will do short previews of pubs and such that most likely will be reviewed in Brew Biz in the future, or some other related to this blog blather.

420 Stockbridge Rd.
Great Barrington, MA 01230
(413) 528-8282

Here’s the column you asked for Mr. Carman:

Scribe knew this road. When the moon was in the seventh house, and Jupiter aligned with… oh, wait, that’s a SONG. Please excuse Scribe’s OLDE meandering mind. This is why he prefers BEER. It meanders enough already.

Scribe had visited Barrington Brewery before. He swung by again and had a slightly sweet-ish chili with cheese and sour cream: plenty of bread.

On tap: IPA, Black Bear Stout, Hopland Pale, Vienna and many, many more. All in a farmhouse resting like a jewel amongst a pristine Berkshire landscape. The restaurant part was a few steps down from the bar and looked homey: inviting. But Scribe stayed where he felt at home: right next to the taps.

The dining room was pleasant enough, and all seemed to be having a good time. Lots of laughter. It added to the very home-like atmosphere.

What an odd zip to the IPA! Did the brewer tell Scribe it had a smidgen of Cascade? You’d never know amongst the Tomahawk, Zeus and Golding: which together sounds a bit like and Roman Native American jeweler; but also makes an interesting hop mixture. Hopefully Scribe got that right. Mr. Andrew the brewer never responded back to Scribe’s attempt to verify this. Probably Scribe’s E-mail went MTA like the old late 50’s Trio song.

Yeah, Scribe’s that old.

The Vienna was smooth. The humor grand.

Why did Scribe just mention, “humor?” While the jokes at the bar flew by a black cat named “Shandy” crossed Scribe’s path. He was informed by a waitress, “He works the night shift.” She also mentioned previous cats included “Hops” and “Barley.”

What, no “Boiled Wert?” EWE. Scratch that bad suggestion. Perhaps Scribe shouldn’t joke about brewery cats and use “scratched” in the same sentence? Not that they would. He’s a nice kitty. Nice kitty. Scribe was teasing.

Andrew Mankin, the owner and brewer, was quite busy but did chat with Ye Olde briefly. He mentioned they have an amazing number solar panels and they use a lot of solar power for everything: especially hot water. And they use a LOT of hot water.

For those who might ask, it’s a brewery. Duh.

Sometimes they’re 100% solar.

He also mentioned he had a hopback in which he used Fuggles. “”Hopback.” Is that related to Victor Hugo’s character from Notre Dame? No? Sorry, Scribe just had a… HUNCH.

Well, it was time for Scribe to get back to his bunker, so he had to say “Ta, ta.” Stay tuned to this net channel for the author of Brew Biz: Werts and All, who will do a full review… Um, just a second. Scribe will E-mail and ask….

A full bloody YEAR from now??? Hurry up, Ken. Scribe will pause and wait like a woodland creature in the headlights.

Your DEER friend,

Ye Olde Scribe

By Ye Olde Scribe

Elderly curmudgeon who likes to make others laugh while giving the Reich Wing a rhetorical enema.

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