Zanatsko Pivo: Beer Ambassadors of the Balkans

Zanatsko Pivo: Beer Ambassadors of the Balkans

Zanatsko Pivo founders from left to right (Filip Stefanovic, Djordje Andrejevic, and photographer Buki Milijkovic)

As new craft beer scenes emerge in the digital age, brewers and beer lovers both benefit by learning from the mistakes and trials of more-established markets. They have the advantage of starting from scratch, using a winning blueprint to build the infrastructure right, starting from the bottom up.

Two programmers and beer lovers, Filip Stefanovic and Djordje Andrejevic are trying to get things rolling right in Serbia. They founded Zantasko Pivo, a beer lover's resource for everything craft in the Balkans.

It all started for them as it did for many, with a simple IPA. A single sip showed them that there was something beyond the mass-produced light beers that dominate the market.

As their love grew, so did their dissatisfaction with the lack of information about particularly product availability and events. Bars would advertise that they had certain beers on tap, only to find that their menu hadn't been updated in weeks. In the small-market beer world, production is minuscule and taps change over fast. They knew the people of Serbia needed a resource to help people find these new flavors, so they started programming a mobile app that would make it so beer lovers could find their favorite products in Belgrade.

In order to get things rolling immediately, they began the facebook community Zantasko Pivo in April 2017. Within six months, it had grown to 2000+ followers. What started as simple venue to share all the beer information of the area became an obsession that ate all their free time. Each new adventure opened a new door. Craft-related news within in the Balkans was under-reported, so they began traveling around trying to cover every festival and brewery event they could. They've been filming interviews, writing blogs, and tasting everything the region has to offer.

This is an unpaid gig and they intend to keep it this way.

“We're not doing this for money. When the money gets involved it changes things,” says Filip.

Nor are they looking for financiers. This is a labor of love. Over the short life the community, they've already found more like-minded individuals to help out as well. In a way, they aren't even working for the site, but moderating the community, helping beer lovers, brewers, homebrewers, or the curious, find each other.

Their app intends to attack the scene on two fronts. First, it will offer a wealth of information for consumers, led by blogs, videos, interviews, and constantly updated beer news. The second and most interesting feature will be for beer hunters.

It'll compile the features from already popular beer rating sites such as Untappd and Ratebeer. Breweries can add the specifications of the beers, including tasting notes, alcohol content, and IBU levels. Then pubs will be responsible for keeping their product and pricing information up-to-date.

With an interface designed for simplicity, the app will allow businesses to update availability information in seconds. Besides, having inconsistent information could lead to a lack of faith from their customer base. Zantasko Pivo hopes that once the app gains enough steam, pubs won't dare being left behind. The community and app will feed itself.

Fortunately, the languages of the region are very similar, so reaching the whole region will not be handicapped by communication issues. In addition, they plan to make much of the information available in English.

Thing are looking up for the Balkan scene. Dogma brewery in Belgrade is starting to find some minor distribution and festival appearances in Budapest. The booming tourist market in Croatia is having a strong effect on their beer industry as well. Once the app gets rolling, hopefully the interest in Eastern European craft will find a wider audience and they can see the same type of growth as the British or United States markets (at least on a per capita basis). The war against boring beer is heating up every year. It's good to know there are people crafting the weapons to win.

Their online community can be found at https://www.facebook.com/zanatskopivo/

TrePA - West Norway in a Glass

Inspiration

I admit, I was buzzing a bit from the HBC when I planned my only brew for the year. Stan Hieronomous had new book called Brewing Local, about expressing a sense of place in beers, and the founders of Scratch brewery gave a lovely talk on using various tree parts in beer.

These were things I was thinking about already. Not necessarily using foraged ingredients, but ways that brewers can create styles that reflect their homes. I always ask those I interview about ways they show their nationality through beer. Few have given a satisfactory answer despite agreeing that there is an over-homogenization of beer styles in the world.

Norway has hundreds of years of brewing traditions and it's shouldn't be a surprise that many of the antique styles use forest ingredients. I called my first Norwegian homebrew En Skarp Grein (“A Sharp Stick”) which was a juniper/spruce IPA. I thought the pine notes worked well with the style, but that shouldn't be a shock.

The very night I arrived this summer, my father in-law was talking about trying to brew gruit ales and that seemed like some sort of sign. When I awoke the next day, I flipped through a book of local edible plants, cross-checked them with the glossary from Brewing Local, and headed into the forest to see what I could find. My reconnaissance yielded a plethora of options. It seems the whole hill behind my in-law's home was edible. One side was a field of blueberries (or rather bilberries as these are known in US), the other was a continuous sheet of bog myrtle. The latter I had to confirm with the family, which they did by its distinct aroma. I also found tons of juniper and lingon berry plants, though no berries were ripe yet. The spruce tips were also still young enough to be soft and non-resinous.

I'd been quite taken by tropical NEIPA's lately, having tried as many juice bombs or milk shakes or whatever people are calling them, while I was in America. I wanted something nice and drinkable that would be ready to drink quickly. I was heading back to Hungary in two short months.

For those beer lovers who've not heard of New England IPA (NEIPA), it's a style that's becoming super hip worldwide at the moment (it's been very popular for a couple years in the states). The typical American IPA is defined by a high, clean bitterness and an up-front hop aroma and flavor, usually with New World hops featuring citrus, pine, or tropical fruit flavors. It's a polarizing style and many find the extreme bitterness to be off-putting. NEIPA is still a celebration of hops, but takes the focus off bitterness, instead making the fruity qualities of hops the center point.

Hop flavor/aroma and hop bitterness are not the same thing. It is possible for a beer to be hoppy, but not bitter. The bittering compounds in the hop plant are utilized and “locked” into the beer through exposures to high temperatures, usually through a sixty minutes of boiling. In NEIPA, the hops are usually not boiled (or only a small amount gets boiled). Instead, everything is added to the wort after it begins cooling or during fermentation. The same heat that bonds the bitterness to the flavor also degrades the essential oils and aroma compounds of the hops. So in the end, you have an IPA that is less bitter and more aromatic. They are often very hazy (due to lack of filtering, the chemistry of the water, yeast strains that don't flocculate/settle well, and the insane amount of hops used). They end up having the taste and consistency of a glass of juice. It's a friendly style, easy to like.

Many people think that style lacks depth, especially in the bitterness. I didn't want to add leaves and sticks to my beer just as a gimmick (though, in a way, it was) and NEIPA is surely not the proper palate to express the lovely aromas of these plants. So instead, I wanted to use the resin notes to provide depth of bitterness to the beer and to provide some earthier notes to a very bright style. Essentially, I'd be using the forest elements instead of bittering hops, because the intense aroma of the hops would dominate. That's what bog myrtle and juniper were used for before hops became prevalent.

Excursion

This is Bergen, so I awoke on brew day to a ton of rain, yet if I ever let weather prevent me from going into the forest, I'd spend far too much time at home. I threw the collars on the in-law's dogs, grabbed a pocket knife (fine, it was a wine opener), and set off.

I noticed right away one of the first problems with brewing using seasonal ingredients. Plants are living things. The perfect spruce tips from two weeks before had darkened, become normal spruce needles. From my own experiences, once they darken, they loose their soft bitterness, the bit of sweetness and become mostly just tar-bombs. I cut the lightest ones I could fine and also a few juniper sticks that were still quite light with white, unripe berries.

The bog myrtle involved a bit of a hike. The hill behind the house had none, but the next hill over had a ton. I descended into the marshy valley and once the swamp began, so did the bog myrtle. It shouldn't have surprised me that I'd find tons of it is a place called Myrdal (bog valley). The leaves were tiny and I rubbed some between my fingers and sniffed. I could tell why it was so prized for beer making in the past. It was a bit piney and spicy, nothing like hops, but an obvious match for beer. I took a nibble and though it had a nice herbal bitterness to it, it quickly became astringent and green. Perhaps these leaves were too young and small. In my head, I remembered the leaves I'd collected earlier from the other side of the valley were much better.

Myrdal, more than just an inviting name.

So crossed to the next hill and began climbing the steep incline to the meadow of bog myrtle. No matter how many plants I found, none of them had the larger leaves I was hoping to find. I occasionally tasted more, but all had that sharp flavor. By the time I'd found plenty of large leaves, I was a good distance from home. My forage had become a hike, which is not the worst of problems, except when you have a timetable.

I'd actually never been this far along the hill before, but there was a path heading back in the right direction. Somehow, I got disoriented, found myself in a different place of the forest than I thought, even though I'd been in that very spot many times before. Once I realized my folly, I took a short cut I knew straight down a small cliff, ending up in a little pocket that received very little sunlight. There was a single spruce tree with bright yellowish green tips, shining. The lack of sunlight delayed its development. Getting lost became a blessing. I cut a large handful and tossed it in my bag.

I took the long way back, passing by my secret chantrelle spot. I wasn't expecting much in mid-July, but I was rewarded with a small patch that would go in my lunch.

On my trip, I also found a few meadow sweet flowers. I wasn't 100% sure I was correct, but they had a lovely aroma that would taste great in malty styles or mead (the Norwegian name is Mjødurt or Mead-herb). In the next couple weeks, the flowers had taken over most of the swampy meadows of the area. I figured I'd make another beer with it, but sadly, by the time I was able to do another batch, the bloom had ended. Maybe next year I'll try something with it.

Execution

(This is a detailed description of my brewing technique, which will be covered again in the recipe. If you are not interested in brewing, just the effects of these plants on the flavor of the beer, feel free to skip this part.)

It's usually not wise to try too many new things at the same time, but I'm clearly a bit more relaxed about operating in uncertainty than many. I had a new style of beer with a whole new process, using an ingredient I'd never used before (and wasn't well-covered online), plus, I was brewing on my father-in-law's Grainfather brewing machine for the first time.

None of this proved to be an issue. The machine is easy to use, just input your recipe with temperatures and time, and it does the rest, using pump-recircuclation to keep it all going.

My grist was 95% Maris Otter and 5% Munich malt. There was meant to be some oats in there, but I forgot to add it to the mash. I really love the malty backbone Maris Otter gives and just a bit of nutty richness from the Munich Malt. Recently, I've been reading articles about using shorter mash times, with little sacrifice in conversion rates. So I only mashed for 45 minutes. I used a thin mash (the machine demanded I add 19L, making it a 3.6L/kg) at 65C. After a 75C mashout for 10 minutes, I fly sparged with 15L of water.

I threw no hops at all into the boil, instead, I used the forest plants as the primary bittering agents. It is never wise to throw any unknown ingredient into the boil. Randy Mosher always recommended making either teas or tinctures from vodka. I went the tea route, soaking my stick and leaves for in 90C water for 20 minutes. I tasted the mixture and it didn't have any astringent flavors, just a nice gentle piney taste. It was added to the boil for 20 minutes to kill any natural yeasts of bacteria. If my goal was aroma instead of flavor, I would have tossed it in at the very end, to try to preserve some of the more volatile aroma compounds.

After a 90 minute boil, I cooled the wort to 80C and held my hop mixture (Azacca, Mosaic, and Kohatu) in a whirlpool for 30 minutes. Based on some calculations I found on brewersfriend.com, this still added about 60IBU to the beer. I then quickly cooled the wort to 18C and added two packets of WLP007-Dry English Ale (I had no time to make a starter.), my go-to yeast.

It's been a cool summer and the fermentation went slowly. After two days, the temperature of the fermentation had dropped to 15C, so I moved it to a warmer room. After this, a nice, green krausen formed after two days. I was worried of a potential mold infestation, but it had a pleasant hoppy smell, so I figured it was just hop material floating on the surface. On the fourth day of fermentation, the beer was fermenting at 20C and I added 50g of my hop mixture (equal amounts of each). I added another two days later. On the 13^th day, I did my final 50g dry hop addition, the bottled two days later. (It was a very slow fermentation.)

Recipe

TrePA

5kg Maris Otter (95.2%)

250g Muich Light (4.8%)

19L mash at 65C (3.6 L/kg) 45min

Mashout at 75C for 10min

Sparge with 15L water at 70C

Made herb tea:

10g Spruce tips picked fresh from the forest

20g Juniper branch with some berries

5g Sweet Gale/Bog Myrtle

Steeped for 20 min at 90C

Added to boil with 20 minutes remaining

90 minute boil

Cooled temperature to 82C – Held at 80C for 30 min

50g Azacca (12.5% AA)

50g Kohatu (6.8% AA)

50g Mosaic (12.5% AA)

IBU 60 (predicted)

Cooled to 18C. Pitched 2 packets of WLP007 – Dry English Ale

Three Dry-hop additions at 4 days, 6 days, and 13 days:

16.66g Azacca

16.66g Kohatu

16.66g Mosaic

OG 1.055

FG at bottling 1.011

ABV 5.78%

Bottle carbonated at 2.2 volumes of CO2

Ingestion

The beer was ready to drink after a week. It poured an hazy orange and tan color with a lasting head. Some bottles had floating hop bits in the head (300g of hops is a ton!)

The aroma was tropical fruits up-front as to be expected with noticeable pineapple, passion fruit, and even some of the bog myrtle. It had some touches of malt buried underneath it all, but not enough to be really noticeable. As it warms, the tropical tones fade, leaving a clear forest aroma, a bit green. The bog myrtle came out the strongest, despite there being so little of it. I didn't get much juniper in the aroma at all.

The body isn't very creamy, but not thin either. I don't think it can be thick enough to be called a New England IPA. The flavor is very smooth in the start with a bit of sweetness mixed in with the tropical fruits. It finishes dry and resiny, a bit too green in the end. I've founds some variation from bottle to bottle, but a few of the bottles finish a bit dry and resiny. As it warms, the character of the British yeast comes through more. One interesting thing about it is that it does have some earthy British hops flavors, but it could just be the British yeast interacting with the hops. I like the way the resins and richness of the Maris Otter play together in the end. It's pleasant and complex for its strength. The forest elements turned out to be more than just a gimmick addition. I feel they improved the beer and gave it a unique and pleasant character.

In future experimentation with these ingredients, I'd like to find a way to get the aroma and bitterness of bog myrtle without the sharp green notes, the same ones that worried me when I first nibbled the plant. I think that using spruce and juniper can give interesting contributions in flavor, but it needs be done with a light hand. A little can go a long way. I'm glad that I didn't add the oatmeal in the end. I feel it would have impacted the freshness of the beer, made it too heavy.

I think it's obvious that beer is secondary to the view.

I must say there is a special experience of tasting a beer that you not only brewed or designed, but foraged the ingredients to make. With every sip, I can smell the trees, see the land. There is a specific time and place connected to it. You can't buy that from the store.

Musings from the National Hombrewers' Conference 2017

Due to a combination of an employment opportunity and visa issues, I decided on a sudden visit to the United States to see friends and family. It was serendipitous, as the National Homebrewer's Convention was being held in my old brewing grounds of Minnesota.

Honestly, I was reluctant to go. The price was high and with only six days in Minneapolis to visit my friends, it's a bit of douche-move to dedicate half of it to strangers and beer. It was my beer-hating wife that pushed me go, her and Jamil Zanishef.

Him and I don't really know each other, of course, but during his podcast, he went off on a ten minute rant about the joys of the HBC, extolling it above every other festival and convention ever, as if he was being paid by the word. So, AHA, I'd say it was an investment well paid.

First Impressions

I walked in, grabbed my badge and glass, then hit the expo. First thing I saw was an assortment of hop bins. I sniffed my way through aromas ranging from flowers to pineapple, onions, and even one that smelled like oranges mixed with ice cream. I was offered a single hop sample and I stared at the wall of choices for about three years before finally picking something I'd never heard of.

I walked around tasting malts, reading brochures, and collecting business cards I had no intention of using. We were offered a large tote bag, where I indiscriminately tossed materials for later disposal. (I don't live in the US, so most of the products were irrelevant to me.) It seemed like any other convention expo, until I looked around and noticed that nobody browsed without an empty glass and every booth offered an intoxicating sample.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't planning on a teetotaler's weekend, but the name is Homebrewers Con. It's a hobby dedicated to making something. I though the focus would be more technical, more scientific, more ingredient focused. There were a variety of seminars focusing on history, pH levels and its effect on brewing, hopping rates, and water composition. Yet, what I found was an orgy of beer.

Like this hop? Indeed Brewing at booth 32 has it in one of their beers. Ever wondered how yeast selection effects flavor? White Labs has a horizontal tasting of IPAs using Bavarian Hefeweissen yeast, 001, and a lager strain. Did you miss the Surly Darkness release last year? I know it's 10AM, but their serving it on tap at the bar.

My first hours were spent juggling my glass between taking notes and shaking hands. This is where experience and observation comes in handy. A large number had strung their badge lanyards through a can cozy, which became a glass holder (homebrew engineering at its finest). It became immediately clear why so many companies were handing out their own logoed cozies: to allow conventioners to pledge allegiance to their favorite purveyors. I chose White Labs on account of my last name, quality products (go Pure Pitch!), and that Chris White was so damned nice.

Me and my long lost uncle Chris. He breeds yeast for a living.

Everyone is so damned nice

The hardest part about making friends is finding common ground. Throw 3000 people, all with a shared hobby into a room, mix it free pours of beer and mead, and one is bound to make a friend or two. My primary regret was my shyness, especially since it was clear everyone, even the pillars of the industry were so approachable.

I'd left my brewing books in Europe, so I had nothing to get signed (though I couldn't resist buying a couple more at the convention shop). Still, I went up to tell both Chris and Jamil (Everyone's on a first name basis at HBC, except for Dr. McGovern, who was always given full title, despite imploring that people use his first name.) how much I respected their work. Both gave me a lot of time despite the lines. I posed for a couple nerdy selfies that meant nothing to most of my friends and family.

This is among the nerdiest selfies ever, but you know, there's Jamil.

I met tons of cool people. Luis from Colombia (but lives in DC), who is trying to spread proper brew practices to South America (and runs a nice looking blog, I can't attest for the quality of the information, as I don't speak Spanish: https://www.cerveza-artesanal.co). Debbie from Austin who shared a love for karaoke (Friday's karaoke stage was a great icebreaker, as many people started pointing me out as the guy that sang “Bohemian Rhapsody).

I had a long conversation with Fred Bonjour, which led to one of the highlights of the whole conference. In the middle of long rant about all the “rules” he loved to break and why, he stopped and pointed to a group of people. “See that over there? You can see three of the greatest brewers and meadmakers in the world, right there.”

I looked over and didn't recognize everyone, but one stood out. I smiled.

“You saw Randy over there?”

I nodded.

“Well, the best part is, you can just go right up and talk to him.” He turned and looked me in the eye. “You can go right up and talk to him.”

“He's in the middle of a conversation,” I said. “I'll wait until he's done.”

“That's Randy Mosher. He'll always be in the middle of a conversation.”

I'm guessing if you're reading a beer blog, you know who that is. However, if you're a friend, kin, or random reader, Randy Mosher is one of the most important people in the history of modern homebrewing. In addition to his constant advocacy efforts to the hobby, his numerous books have had a huge influence in the field, including Tasting Beer, the seminal book on sensory evaluation and enjoyment of beer, and Radical Brewing, a wacky trip through all the crazy beers from the past and now, and how to make them. Both books are use-worn bibles for me. I was a bit star struck.

“Come on Aaron. We're going to meet Randy.”

He introduced us and I fell into a great conversation on the Mexican, Hungarian, and Norwegian craft scenes, among other things. It was special to be given twenty minutes with such a well-respected, knowledgeable brewer and scholar.

It is a fantastic place to network. I left with some business cards I could actually use. I met brewers, suppliers, historians, bloggers, and journalists. I didn't take advantage of this as much as I should have, though I didn't attend the conference for networking. Had I been a real journalist, I could have made more of the situation, though nobody really wants to be that guy. I did get some great tips on how to get started with a book idea I had from Stan Hieronomous (name dropping again).

Education

I can't say I loved every seminar. They ranged from unprofessional to revelatory. Most were OK. The worst part was trying to choose between so many options. There was one time slot that had five I wanted to see. Since all are available online, I aimed for the ones with a sensory element, but I chose incorrectly most of the time. (Seriously, historical presenters, why would you not whip up some crazy old world beer styles for us to try?)

The best way to learn was by talking to the vendors and beer markers at the festival. There were over 3000 of them. Taste something you like? Chances are the brewer will tell you the process. I could have learned much more if it wasn't for all the beer.

Beer

I mentioned this above, but the HBC is a constant assault of beer. Sure, one can say no, but when else can somebody get the chance to try chicken beer or waffle beer or chicken and waffle beer? (note: one does not actually need to try these things)

The daytime was a bit tamer, though most had their glasses full constantly. Nearly every vendor had a sample for their products. The exhibition room had plenty of great breweries offering special releases. The social club in the middle always had at least two homebrewer clubs showing off their stuff.

Then to the seminars. These were mostly safe, until you unwisely choose a mead panel discussion with six of the world's greatest meadmakers, all armed with jugs of their creations at 10:30 AM. That was a popular seminar.

At night were the social events. The first day was the kickoff party, which was a mini beer festival with a wide variety of local and out-of-state breweries. I though the Minnesota scene was centered in the Northeast part of Minneapolis, but nearly every suburb had a brewery represented. Not all were great, but there were some surprises. As a former Minnesotan who lives abroad, it was a great way to catch up with what I'd been missing these last few years.

Night two ended with what Jamil hailed as the best part of the convention. I saw Club Night as a toss-off event (heck, I was under the impression I'd have share homebrew to participate). My focus was on seminars and meeting people. I even considered skipping it. I'm glad I didn't. Club Night was, hands-down, the best part of the convention.

Commercial brewers are usually confined by market constraints and trends (this is loosening up a lot as the craft is becoming more made up of flavor-junkies in a constant search for something new), but homebrewers are untethered, limited by only their skill and imagination. Club Night was a celebration of this freedom. Every style one could imagine was represented, not to mention tons of great mead. The quality of the beer was a overall very inconsistent. I tasted some great beers (loved Covfefe Hefeweissen, fruity balanced, and funny.), many unremarkable, and thankfully no terrible beer (however, the aforementioned chicken beer was a bit hard to get down.)

Nobody dared tell fake-Walter that he was out of his element with that phone.

What shined more than the beer was the general atmosphere of the event. It seemed everyone looked forward to this day. Most clubs had a special theme, complete with costumes and a specially designed booth, like a parade float, only fun. There were doctors in a clinic, scientist in a lab, The Simpsons, Game of Thrones with the wall of taps made of ice, Big Lebowski characters, and my favorite, a booth that was a replica of Wayne's basement. The most popular booth was Midwest Mead Masters drawing lines for the entirety of the night (but when you consider how many Meadmakers of the Year are in that club, it's shouldn't be surprising)

They had to force us out of the place at eleven. I heard rumors that many went bowling afterwards. Either way, the next morning, most wandered around with sunglasses and coffee cups.

“We're looking down on Wayne's basement, only that's not Wayne's basement. Isn't it weird?”

Last Day

The conference ended with the “Knockout Party,” which disappointed many, as past conventions had a multi-course beer dinner instead. There were prizes and lots of last minute socializing. The medal winners marched through the crowd in a long parade, some armed with their award-winning beers. The leftover bottles from the final round were being poured for us, mainly to dispose of the beer in the most humane way possible. They had no labels, only their BJCP codes. I got to play a game of guessing the style and also got to sample the standards for the competition.

When they finally announced the end of the event, I was left with a feeling I hadn't had in long time. It was that same feeling after a week of Boy Scout camp or an all-night slumber party. I was exhausted, glad I could finally get some good sleep, still glowing from all the fun I had, but at the same time, devastated that it was over. There was the added sadness that it might be my only HBC (unless they decide to go international). I don't think I was the only one feeling like we were seeing the end of something big.

I doubt homebrewing is a hobby that is going to die anytime soon. As beer interest increases, so will the production and availability of ingredients. Yet, craft brewing is something altogether different. According the Brewer's Association, the United States has over 5,000 breweries, the vast majority are small independent, regional businesses. Still, these 5,000+ breweries only control 20% of the market (which is the grand scheme of things, is an insanely large amount). The market itself didn't grow at all; it's just a shift of preferences. As the craft sector eats away at the profits of the large corporations, the bigger guys are getting worried. Their current strategy is to buy up top craft brands. Lagunitas, Goose Island, and just before the convention, the much-beloved Wicked Weed were all purchased by large brewers.

I'm probably a bit more conservative than many. I don't see these developments as all bad. Here in Norway, top craft brand Nøgne Ø was purchased by Hansa-Borg, one of the largest beer companies in the country, and they only got better. With more money and security, they've started to produce a line of incredible experimental beers, and I imagine that these sell-outs will likely do the same. Plus, they'll be able to get more great beer to the average beer drinker, at a price they can afford (I do think sticker shock is a big reason craft isn't more popular).

If this remains a relatively isolated development, then we have no reason to worry, but the second the number of brands in the hands of InBev increases, the smaller businesses that held strong to their independent spirit will suffer, as the top quality malts and hops get bought out. Plus, as these businesses consolidate, so can the production. Craft brewing is inefficient, but it also creates jobs. The HBC is filled with people who aspire to be brewers some day. These purchases of independent breweries are not just an abstract threat the idea of local-produced, high-quality products, but a threat the dreams of many. It's not a simple issue.

Mass market beer isn't just buying breweries. In October 2016, InBev purchased a minority holding of Ratebeer, an online beer judging site. Many have abandoned the service (myself included), because a beer production company owning a service that rates the quality of beer cannot be seen as anything but a conflict of interest. Just days before the conference, InBev had also purchased Northern Brewer, one of the US's largest homebrew supply stores, pushing many to boycott their booth and products. Now that they are moving into homebrewing, it is frightening to piece together their endgame. And these acquisitions were a common point of conversation for the weekend. Omar Ansari even it in his keynote speech.

It's understandable that people went through the conference feeling like the empire had invaded and we were standing at the top of a pinnacle, a special moment in time when it seemed like the little guy might actually find a way to win. Yet, like all grassroots movements, they eventually get eaten by greed. That weekend, it was clear that we were, in the words of Hunter S. Thomson, looking at a high watermark, the place where the wave finally broke, and rolled back.