Great Brewery Quotes

Sam was waiting for her,his gaze sweeping over her. "Looks great." "I look like a geek," Lucy said. "I smell like a brewery. And I need a bra." "My dream date.

There are a thousand small honest breweries in this country that because they have been too poor and localized to compete with the big boys have been forced to close, or else operate under famous names while they turn out yeast, or hops, or some other important but unnamed ingredient of the main company's beer. Now, with the trains full of soldiers and supplies rather than pale ale, perhaps people far from the great breweries will turn again to their local beer factories and discover, as their fathers did thirty years ago, that a beer carried quietly three miles is better than one shot across three thousand on a fast freight.

Most of the wine in the world sells for two dollars a bottle. Quite a bit sells for four dollars to five dollars a bottle, and there are many that sell for ten dollars a bottle. Then you have wines that sell for three hundred dollars a bottle. What the world needs is a beer that's worth five dollars a bottle. I think that would be great. If all beer prices are forced down to the level of Busch Bavarian, none of us will be there.

Denver’s first permanent structure was said to be a saloon, and more beer is brewed here today than in any other American city, earning it the nickname the “Napa Valley of beer.” For one weekend in the fall it boasts the best selection on earth during the Great American Beer Festival, a New World Oktoberfest that gathers representatives from the nation’s best breweries to tap over 1,600 different kinds of beer—enough to get it listed in Guinness World Records for the most beers tapped in one place.

Relway mused, “Now that it’s happened I’m not so sure I’m happy with the outcome. Spared their racial theories The Call would’ve been good for TunFaire.” He would appreciate their interest in law and order and proper behavior. “Here’s a challenge you still need to meet. Glory Mooncalled. He’s weak now but he’s still out there somewhere. If you don’t get him now he’ll try to put something back together someday. He can’t help himself.” “It’s still great day for TunFaire, Garrett. One of pure triumph.” I don’t know if he meant that or was being sarcastic. You never quite know anything with Relway. And he wants it that way. “I liked the way you put it, Garrett. Faded steel heat.” I’d mentioned that to him the night he’d discovered the tanks in the old Lamp brewery. “But the war goes on.” “The war never ends. Tell you what. Send me a note when you do decide to roast that pigeon. I’ve got dibs on a drumstick.

In their drunken preoccupation with the project at hand and mere locomotion, they did not look behind them. There the night-smog was thicker than ever. A high-circling nighthawk would have seen the stuff converging from all sections of Lankhmar, north, east, south, west—from the Inner Sea, from the Great Salt Marsh, from the many-ditched grain lands, from the River Hlal—in swift-moving black rivers and rivulets, heaping, eddying, swirling, dark and reeking essence of Lankhmar from its branding irons, braziers, bonfires, bonefires, kitchen fires and warmth fires, kilns, forges, breweries, distilleries, junk and garbage fires innumerable, sweating alchemists’ and sorcerers’ dens, crematoriums, charcoal burners’ turfed mounds, all those and many more…converging purposefully on Dim Lane and particularly on the Silver Eel and perhaps especially on the ricketty house behind it, untenanted except for attic. The closer to that center it got, the more substantial the smog became, eddy-strands and swirl-tatters tearing off and clinging to rough stone corners and scraggly-surfaced brick like black cobwebs.

The great stirrer of sea storms! These days the only thing he wants to do is brew his mead. He’s always been a brewer, but lately it’s ridiculous. He spends all his time at the hops shop, or going on brewery tours with his buddies. And don’t get me started on the flannel shirt, rolled-up skinny jeans, glasses, and the way he trims his beard. He’s always talking about microbrews. He has a cauldron a mile wide! How can he microbrew?

archeologist Patrick McGovern found evidence of an eight-thousand-year-old brew of rice, fruit, and honey at the Jiahu site in Henan Province. (He worked with Dogfish Head brewery to re-create the brew, which they named Chateau Jiahu.) It

Where great minds of science failed, Parisian foodie and confectioner Nicolas Appert prevailed. Appert was a “jack of all trades,” according to the Can Manufacturers Institute. He had traversed the gustatory universe as a candy maker, vintner, chef, brewer, pickle maker, and more. His exceptionally wide-ranging culinary wanderings gave him an advantage over scientists who focused on the science of preservation. “Having spent my days in the pantries, the breweries, store-houses, and cellars of Champagne, as well as in the shops, manufactories, and warehouses of confectioners, distillers, and grocers,” he wrote in the aptly titled Art of Preserving All Kinds of Animal and Vegetable Substances for Several Years, “I have been able to avail myself, in my process, of a number of advantages, which the greater number of those persons have not possessed, who have devoted themselves to the art of preserving provisions.

It took guts, risk, and sacrifice to get there, but that’s how anything we really want works. Sorry to break the news. Don’t blame the messenger for this horrible realization – just do something about it. I would recommend looking at your life and think about what is lacking – the aspirations that would make you happier. If that job is sucking all the passion out of your life, look into getting a loan and finally starting the craft brewery you have been talking about for years but haven’t found the ‘right’ time to say goodbye to your job that supplies you with great financial security and benefits. A life full of passion doesn’t exist among our comforts.

He figured the brewery could handle another 10 to 15 percent in sales before it ran out of capacity. As long as he expanded by then, he could avoid the problems he’d experienced in the 1970s. Besides, the company would eventually have to move up to the next level anyway. It was the natural order of things. Every business has to grow or die, right? So he thought he might as well expand sooner rather than later. To finance the expansion, he would need outside capital. The direct public offering sounded to him like the best way to get