Kids these days are spoiled. They don’t remember a world without good beer. For them, multiple tap handles pouring a rainbow of colors infused with deeply charged flavors is an entitlement. Aromas, too! It’s gotten to a point where noses are turned up at any bar not featuring at least two sour rosehip mesquite smoked imperial doppel-lambic tripels.

They’ve also been robbed. Robbed of their chance to have a beer epiphany. That “ah ha!” moment manifesting the illuminating discovery of a world beyond comparison shopping for American adjunct lagers.

This isn’t true, of course.  As long as there are campuses filled with broke college students and bars in places like Two Dot, Montana, we’ll continue to breed a significant population poised to one day have a beer break through.

Except that isn’t true either.  The Two Dot Bar in Two Dot, Montana (population 76, give or take) serves Kettlehouse’s Cold Smoke Scotch Ale.  Heck, Wibaux, Montana, population 616 – close to North Dakota, but far from anything else – got a brewery before Kalispell did (metro population of 90,000 and just a short drive to Glacier National Park).

You see, Montana is an enigma.  While also being the perfect embodiment of the renaissance of beer.

Nevermind why, but my first beer ever was a Killian’s Irish Red during graduate school in 1991 in Blacksburg, Virginia. One shouldn’t question how we remember such trivial details, but it involved a dart game at a downtown bar with fellow grad students. The first pint improved my accuracy.  The second, not so much.

Killian’s qualified as really good beer back then. The likes of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Anchor Steam and other pioneering microbrews hadn’t made to that small southwestern Virginia town yet.  Still wouldn’t for many years to come.

When I moved to Helena, Montana in 1993 I did not know that Montana’s first brewery in the modern era, Bayern Brewing Co. – a couple hours away in Missoula – was already six years old.  My mother, back in Virginia, would not have grasped that either. She asked if the Pony Express still delivered mail in Montana. I’m not sure she was kidding. That was the outside world’s impression of Montana. Maybe still is.

It was in Helena that I experienced my craft beer epiphany. Over several pints of Deschutes Brewery’s Black Butte Porter on nitro in 1997, the metaphorical light bulb ignited like a search light at a Hollywood premier. Charlie Papazian, using his best Bob Barker voice, stood on a nearby stage and told me to “Come on down!” Really. I’ve written about it several times.

Except I now realize I was wrong.  That’s the trouble with epiphany based memories. In reality, my epiphany is much better described as an evolution. In which case it was the opposite of an epiphany. But I digress. 

There were not many choices in Helena, Montana in 1993, but I remember enjoying Henry Weinhard’s Dark. A reincarnation of the old Kessler Brewing Co. made a few serviceable, local beers. Blackfoot River Brewing Co. and it’s fabulous Single Malt IPA, North Fork Organic Porter and Double Black Diamond Stout was still six years away.

Through a chance connection I volunteered to help with Helena’s first “Micro-brew Review and Cool Dog Ball” in January 1995.  To my knowledge it was the city’s first brewfest and I suppose there were 20 or so beers there.

I got assigned to pour beer from the now-closed Lang Creek Brewing Co. out of Montana’s northwest corner.  Not realizing there would be volunteers to pour his beer, owner/brewer John Campbell drove the six hours from Marion to Helena on a snowy winter day fearing he’d miss out on the chance to find some new fans. Lucky me.

Over the next several hours John patiently answered each of my beer related questions as I stumbled multiple times over the difference between an ale and a lager. I distinctly remember two things from that night: one, John’s beers were painfully bitter; and two, I walked home.

Except John’s beer’s weren’t that bitter. Not by today’s standards. Few new beer drinkers dive right in to an appreciation of hops. Most of us learn to enjoy them as part of our personal evolution down the road to new and exciting flavors.

Travel along Highway 12 near Two Dot, or take Highway 7 south out of Wibaux and it doesn’t take much to convince yourself the Pony Express may very well still deliver the mail in Montana. The landscape is big, rolling, open and empty, an image that conjures up ideas of an unexplored frontier.

But Montana got good beer before Virginia did.  And other states. Good espresso too.  I know. I’d grown accustomed to both living in Montana in the late ’90s, but would display signs of withdraw two days in to a trip back to visit the folks.

Fast forward to 2014 and Montana consistently runs in the top three states for breweries per capita.  Forty are open. Eight more are under construction. Several more are known to be in the planning stage. Not bad for a gigantic state which only crossed the one million mark in population in 2012.  That last point did not sit well with a lot of people, by the way.

A funny thing happened along the way.  Montana’s taprooms became community gathering spots where friends of all ages gather to catch up on the news not fit to print.  Good beer was the draw. Atmosphere was the clincher. Many are so family friendly you’d not be shunned for mistaking them for child care centers.

Outsiders may be surprised to find it here, but Montanans accept it immediately as a fitting encapsulation of the Montana way of life. Fortunately, this is not an experience unique to Montana. All across America we’re experiencing a Renaissance of Beer.

Want proof?  We’ve long stopped wondering whether this beer “fad” is going to stick around. Instead, we’ve moved on to worrying about style-specific glassware, clean tap lines and educated servers.  That’s not beer snobbery, it’s beer appreciation.  Beer news is populated with trademark disputes and arguments about the often nonsensical distinctions between craft and non-craft.  This is good. It’s a sign of a maturing industry that is here to stay.

Want more proof? One word: choice. I complain often about the selection at my local Safeway, but it is leaps and bounds from my search in 1993.  Fortunately, one block away is my favorite local beer store, Summer Sun, with hundreds of SKUs. Even then, it’s selection pales in comparison to those found in our neighbors to the west, Washington and Oregon. 

If there’s one thing this stunning level of choice demonstrates it’s this: American brewers no longer have rules when it comes to beer. Want to put rosehips in beer? Have at it. Create new styles? Heck, the Brewers Association amends their style guideline each year just to keep up.

I’d say we’ve reached the Golden Age of beer, but such labels are best left to those judging history long after we are gone.  Yet, no one can argue we’re in the midst of a renaissance of beer. Choice abounds, untapped markets remain plentiful and consumer interest continues to rise. Time to sit back, relax and enjoy the show, right? Not yet.

It’s not often we have an opportunity to actively take part in the evolution of something we enjoy so much.  With this renaissance of beer we’ve got a prime opportunity.  Here’s how to take part.

If you’re a blogger/beer writer: educate.  First, educate yourself. There are infinite subjects and angles to explore. Learn something about your state’s beer laws. You’ll understand why things are the way they are, and gain the ability to recognize opportunities for change. Take a distributor to lunch. The middle tier is perhaps the least understood and the first to be vilified as a result. Clean out a mash tun.  In the vast majority of breweries, that’s not an automated task and you’ll walk away with a new perspective on what it means to be a “brewer.”

Second, educate others.  You’re a writer for a reason. I don’t care if you’re doing a review, a rant, a rave, or a regurgitation. If your underlying goal in every event is to educate, your writing will improve.  You’ll be an active part of the renaissance and evolution of beer.

If you’re a beer drinker (and why else would you be reading this blog), your task is the same: educate.  First, educate yourself.  Second, educate others.  Have patience. There remain plenty of eager neophytes stumbling over the difference between an ale and a lager. Us aficionados could stand to knock the chip off our shoulder once in a while.

But no matter who you are and how much beer knowledge you possess, keep this in mind: There is a vast difference between telling someone what their experience should be with beer and teaching someone how to arrive at their own beer epiphany. It won’t be the same as yours.

When it comes to beer we can gather ’round the bar stool, enjoy a good debate about the “best” beer,  and both be right.

Like what you like, seek out something new wherever you go, and enjoy the journey.  There’s never been a better time. 
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My purpose and inspiration for writing this post is a writing contest sponsored by the Beer Bloggers Conference and the National Beer Wholesalers Association which asked for entries on the topic “America’s Beer Renaissance: Consumer Choice and Variety in the U.S. Beer Market.” Judging by the suggested topics, I’m not the least bit convinced this was what they had in mind.  But that’s the beauty of choice and the province of the blogger.