Biking to Beer, Four: Over the River

Well, friends, I've already admitted to being a procrastinator, there's no using pretending or denying. Part Four of Biking to Beer as been waiting to be finished for far too long. It's two months old now! Can't put it off any longer, and once this is posted, it's time to rise Part 5 from it's slumber and get to work on Part Six. Without more fuss, here we go:

It's Sunday, March 29. Again, I plot my course while online at the East Lake library, and set off for my first destination, sometime after 5 pm. It's a Sunday in early spring, so the options for taprooms to visit aren't wide. Before last summer it wasn't even allowed. "Okay, you can have your taprooms, but not on Sunday! Not yet!" What is with this state? Why does that even matter? Who does it hurt to have a taproom open on a Sunday, for the love of Benji? It took us two years to get that law changed. Now, at last, we'll be able to sell growlers at taprooms and brewpubs on Sundays, but liquor stores still won't be able to open. Because that would make sense and we can't have that.

So, it was time to make my first visit to Urban Growler in St. Paul, which requires continuing on Lake Street all the way to the Mississippi river, over the bridge to St. Paul, where the street changes name and becomes "Marshall Avenue." Minneapolis is the City of Lakes. Minnesota is the Land of 10, 000 Lakes. Does St. Paul, our capital city,  have some kind of "lake envy" that forces them the change the name of Lake Street once it enters their city limits? What's the problem?

View of the entrance to Urban Growler, with the Bang Brewing silo behind.

A chalkboard in the entrance alerts you to the ales inside.

That aside, it was fairly easy to find Urban Growler, using  the directions provided by Google maps. Over the river and a left to find Pelham Boulevard, soon to Raymond, and a neighborhood I was somewhat familiar with, which actually means that I remember getting lost there once, and finding my way, eventually. Before long, a long industrial boulevard is seen, and there it is, 2325 Endicott Street, home of Urban Growler brewing, with it's neighbor, Bang Brewing, next door. They are not open on Sundays, however.

It's a friendly space, with food crafted on site. I had a turkey sandwich, I think, and perused the beer menu, while classic rock filled the air. (something I can do without, frankly). I did something that's not the best way to judge a brewery's abilities, when scanning their repertoire, by picking the three IPAs they had on tap. Well, that's what I felt like drinking. Maybe a "flight" would have been right, to check the quality of the Amber Ale, the apple ale, the Cowbell cream, the oatmeal stout, or the porter. I don't do a lot of flights, preferring to enjoy, or not, a full pint, for good or ill.
I took down the rye IPA, the Midwest IPA, and Endicott, their double IPA, and was satisfied. Not bowled over, but happy. Whiled away a couple of hours while eating, drinking, reading. Maybe I'll pick up a growler next time I pay them a visit, on a Sunday, perhaps? Soon? Just maybe...

Endicott double IPA.

MidWest IPA.

Big Boot Rye IPA.

I bid farewell to Urban Growler (though I still don't quite get the name), and set off back to Minneapolis for my next destination, Fair State Brewing, at Central and Lowry in NorthEast. But, there was a hitch. I'd lost the directions that I'd scrawled down, and didn't have internet access on the ol' bicycle. Could I remember how to get there? Oh, well, I'd wing it, stick with what I knew, and just stab my way there. I'd been there before, I knew where it was, if not the fastest, easier way to arrive. So, I stuck to University Avenue, taking that to Broadway in NE.

Next thing I know, it's getting dark, and chilly. Right about the time I was near the intersections of Broadway and Central, thought of how many more block to Central and Lowry, and felt a tug from my bladder. Even though I'd already "gone" at U.G., it was time to go again. And I was right by 612 Brew. So, the heck with it, today's the day we do 612, and pulled into the place, locked the bike, and settled at a bar stool.

A view from the bar at 612, with DWitt prints on the walls, and a large growler collection framing the back bar.

What to say about 612? You know how there are people who believe that if you can't say something nice, you shouldn't say anything at all? Well, I'm going to say more than that, but I'll start with a description of my visit that Sunday night. I asked the bartender what I should have, as I often do, and he told me that many people seem to enjoy the Unrated. Yes, they do, and I'd already had one from a can not too long before. He told me that he's not the type who enjoys a hoppy ale and was sad that they'd just that day run out of their porter, his favorite of their beers so far. I was disappointed, too, as I'd love to see what they'd do with that style. I chose, of the four beers available, the Bitter Cold IPA, which I just didn't get. That mean that I was fundamentally at a loss about the meaning of it's existence. What is a "winter IPA"? Why?  Not bad, just not special.  (Actually, I was recently reminded of a cask-infusion that they did with Skittles candies. The brewers' response to this subject was something along the line of: "Why not? We don't care!" I kind of like the brewers who say that they care. Just me, I guess.)

The Bitter Cold IPA, at 612 Brew.

There was some activity going on at the time, a painting and drinking event, and there was a good stream of folks coming through for a Sunday night, to the consternation of the lonely bartender, waiting for a chance to get started on the close-down. It doesn't matter if I'm not impressed by their beers, or that I keep waiting to taste something special, somebody out there likes them. They're on the radar, and the beers aren't bad, I just wish I knew what little fuss there is, is all about. If I'm not wrong, I had a fairly inoffensive, but utterly lackluster pale ale called Six, and finished with an incredibly adequate Unrated, then hopped back on the bike in the darkness, to cross the river once more into downtown Minneapolis.

Talented and in-demand local artist Adam Turman loves bikes, babes, and beers, and he will not let you forget it.

Once on the road, I contemplated if a third destination was possible to enter into this project and wondered about visiting another brewery that might still be open that late on a Sunday night, that hadn't been entered it this yet. Thought about it for a bit, and then changed my mind and turned in the direction of Town Hall, where maybe not everyone knew my name, but at least some of them did. And I had a Czar Jack. And all was well.