Colorado. It’s
where I live. It’s where I
matriculated. It’s where I met and
married my wife. It’s where my first
child will be born. It is my home. However, I, like a good portion of the
state’s population, am not originally from Colorado. I cannot, in good conscious, decorate my car
with the ubiquitous
“Native” bumper sticker Ã
la the green mountain license plate.
Nay, my roots are in the Crossroads of America, the Hoosier State, the
Land of Letterman—Indiana.
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| Nicole at the Indy Mini expo |
My brother is fond of saying, “Indiana is a great
place to be
from.” I’ve no desire to live there again but I’ll
always hold it in a special part of my heart.
It’s my place of birth, the state that shaped me in my formative years,
and its influence on me cannot be understated.
That’s why I feel the need to make a short statement on a recent
controversy: the
Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA).
The big hubbub surrounding RFRA has died down due to
amendments made to the law but residual stigma won’t wash out. I’m embarrassed my homestate passed such a
law. Do I think RFRA had any real power
to significantly harm the gay community?
No, not really; it wasn’t as bad as social media made it out to be. However,
the very statement “wasn’t as bad” suggests it was at least a little bad and any backwards step for LGBT Hoosiers is
a damn shame.
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Then again, disgusted though I was with
Gov. Mike Pence’s decision to pass RFRA, I was equally perturbed by the #BoycottIndiana
campaign. Yes, companies, please do pull
your businesses out of Indiana, deny an already poor, working-class state of
desperately needed money. Yes,
performers, cancel your Indiana tour dates and withhold the arts from mostly
rural communities most in need of entertainment and enlightenment. Yes, supporters of #BoycottIndiana, punish an
entire population for the decisions of a few politicians, politicians who
barely feel the sting of your actions whereas the good and honest masses
receive the brunt. There’s no holes in
that plan, no sir (gosh, I hope the
sarcasm is as obvious as I intend it to be).
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We went to the Colts pro shop; notice anything wrong with the packaging for this helmet?
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#BoycottIndiana is a shotgun, not a surgeon’s scalpel. Precision is lacking, there’s too much
collateral damage. Believe it or not,
there are gay Hoosiers and #BoycottIndiana affects them, too. There must have been some supporters of RFRA
in Indiana for it to get passed, true, but you wouldn’t know that by the outcry
I’ve witnessed from people living there and that includes—as we get back on
topic—local breweries. Nearly all of
them went out of their way to make a statement on their Facebook page rallying against
RFRA; usually breweries stay out of such political quagmires because, hey, conservative
customers pay with the same money as liberal customers. This time they felt the urge to speak out. The issue was important enough to make a
stand. Major kudos to Indiana
breweries! They’re not just makers of
great beer, they’re makers of social change
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| My favorite anti-RFRA protest; Bier Brewery decided to "turn the other cheek" to discriminatory laws |
In sum, supporters of RFRA and proponents of
#BoycottIndiana both really, really suck.
With Hoosier blood flowing through my veins, I choose to be ashamed of
my state’s backwards government yet proud of the Indiana people’s backlash towards
that reprehensible bill. But there’s
more pride than shame—I’m pretty well used to government officials doing
dumbass things, it’s lost its shock value.
But my heart will always swell when the masses make the morally correct
decision and spurn homophobic laws.
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| Ha! But, in all seriousness, Indy still loves Peyton; they just love Luck more |
Did I say earlier that would be a
short statement? Well, enough soapbox pontificating; let’s get
down to beer. Nicole and I were in
Indianapolis to run the
OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini-Marathon (Indy Mini), the
nation’s largest half marathon. As any
runner will say, one must carb-load before a big race. Know what has a lot of carbs? Beer.
Thus, the day before the race, we partook in the wares of a few of our favorite
Indy beer spots.
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| Biergarten at The Rathskeller |
First, we popped into
Scotty’s Brewhouse, a downtown
hangout near
Bankers Life Fieldhouse.
Popular for its large patio (which, due to crowds, we could not enjoy),
Scotty’s isn’t actually a brewery but is among the many satellite taprooms
associated with
Thr3e Wise Men Brewing Co. (the guy who started the company’s
named
Scott Wise); it’s kind of like the
Ale House at Amato’s/
Breckenridge Brewery of Indy—a non-brewing beer bar operated by a brewery. The beer selection at Scotty’s is good but,
as an out-of-towner, I’d appreciate more local options. Then again, I understand I’m not their target
demographic, repeat local customers are what keep the place in business, people
who might want to taste beers from far-flung lands. Sure, Indiana beer is a special treat to my Colorado
palate but it’s the norm to those living in Indy. But, I almost always drink local so I had a
couple
Taxman Brewing Co. beers (a brewery that’s been highly recommended to me
several times; I’ll visit the facility one of these days) and headed for the
next destination.
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| Biergarten at The Rathskeller |
In the Denver-area, we have the
German-American Chamber of Commerce—Colorado (GACC-CO), a great organization that puts on fun events such as the
Christkindl Market and
Biergarten Festival. What Colorado doesn’t have, though, is the
Midwest’s history of German immigration. Of course, those of German descent are
everywhere in America,
they’re the largest European ethnicity in the nation.
But, historically speaking, places like Wisconsin, Michigan, and Indiana
are where our
Deutsche ancestors
first settled. The GACC-CO has to
forcibly interject German joviality into Colorado culture, in other parts of
the country it’s just the natural state of things. That long-lasting and pervading aura of
German heritage is why something as cool as
The Rathskeller exists in Indy.
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| Indy skyline from Rathskeller's biergarten |
An enormous and ornate beer hall, restaurant, and
biergarten, The Rathskeller has operated since 1894; it is and was the place for German-Americans to hang
out, socialize, and party. It’s
essentially the German Elks club. I
visited the place briefly several years ago, never seeing The Rathskeller’s
crown jewel—the biergarten. I wasn’t
about to make that mistake twice.
I can say with all honesty, I’ve been to Munich and
The Rathskeller’s outdoor drinking area is on-par with its Old World
counterparts. A vast, open space with
endless rows of picnic tables, an amphitheater, medieval flags flapping proudly
in the breeze, a view of the Indy skyline—there’s plenty to
prost about! I enjoyed the house beer,
Rathskeller Amber,
by local brewers
Sun King Brewery—was there ever a more appropriate beer for
me, a German-American-Hoosier, to drink?
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| They don't cite their source on the banner so it's probably a self-appointed title; doesn't mean it's wrong, though |
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| The spectrum of beer at The Rathskeller; that's the Sun King one in the middle |
After Rathskeller, we ended the evening at
Tomlinson Taproom. It’s not a visit to Indy for me
without having a beer or two at one of the best unknown beer bars in
America. Tucked in the mezzanine of the
historic
City Market building, Tom Tap, as the cool kids call it, serves
nothing but Indiana-made beer making it possible for out-of-towners such as
myself to taste the flavor of the state, to “visit” may Indiana breweries
without driving through miles of cornfield.
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| Looking down on the floor of City Market from the mezzanine |
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| Tom Tap is in the mezzanine of the City Market building |
Tom Tap was followed by a meal at
Iozzo’s Garden of Italy where we further raised our carbohydrate levels for the next day’s run. It was my seventh time participating in the
Indy Mini and it was my second-worst time—so, I wasn’t super happy with my
results. It was
definitely Nicole’s slowest time because she had to walk, pregnant
as she is. But, hey, our times might not
have been what we were looking for but there’s nothing quite like beer to
soothe one’s wounded ego.
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| See the pedal bar parked in front? In Indy, it's actually legal for you to drink alcohol while riding; in Denver, you have to be sneaky about it |
First stop after the race:
Tow Yard Brewing Co., the
closest brewery to
Lucas Oil Stadium.
Built on the ground level of an old brick building, Tow Yard’s ample
parking is, according to my parents, a primo spot for
Colts tailgate parties, a
cash-cow for Tow Yard given the fact Indianapolis law allows for open
containers; tailgaters can order a beer at Tow Yard, have it poured into a
plastic cup, and walk right back outside to the party in the parking lot. It’s odd, Indiana has some of the most
bass-ass-backwards liquor laws in the country (liquor stores closed on Sundays,
no brewery can sell beer without also selling food, no minors allowed in the
bar area…etc.) and yet, in one regard, its capital city is among the most
lenient, on par with the lax liquor enforcement of Las Vegas, New Orleans, and
Key West. Supposedly, the open container
law was always on the books but nobody knew it was legal until the city hosted
the Super Bowl. Event organizers started
researching what they could get away with and, lo and behold, an open container
wasn’t illegal to begin with! It always
pays to double-check.
Tow Yard boasts a decent-sized patio, a spacious
taproom with
two bars and
a whole deli in the back called The Larder! The
beer’s pretty tasty, too; I enjoyed
The Wrecker, an IPA, and The All Seeing
Rye, a rye pale ale. It was also at Tow
Yard where we met up with our friend-through-beer and two-time Beer Bloggers
Conference acquaintance
Tamre. I mention
Tamre because her presence has a significant impact on the next part of my
story.
We left Tow Yard and followed Tamre’s car to the
hipper-than-you’d-think-for-Indiana Fletcher Place neighborhood and
Chilly Water Brewing Company. There, we met yet
another friend,
Andy, a
high school pal of mine (funnily enough, it turned out
he and Tamre were practically neighbors and didn’t realize it). The space is cool and modern-looking, the
One Hop Wonder Mosaic IPA was lovely, and yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever—it’s a fine
establishment but my memory of the place is dominated by something other than
the beer.
Andy and I were catching-up, re-hashing the good ol’
days, when a dude walks through the front door wearing a t-shirt, board shorts,
and a poodle on his head i.e. a glorious drape of thick, curly hair. We stop our conversation, glance over quickly,
and laugh to ourselves. “That guy looks
like
Kenny G!” We go back to our
conversation, look again: “I’m actually being serious now, I’m pretty sure
that’s Kenny G!” By this point, he’s
walked back outside and seated himself on the patio, right on the other side of
the window from our table. Another
patron sees us taking quick, not-so-inconspicuous peeks through the glass. “Guys!” he says, “were you wondering if
that’s Kenny G? I looked up his concert
schedule; he’s playing in Indy
tonight! That’s f**kin’ him, man!” The whole time we’re animatedly conversing,
Mr. G is looking through the window and rolling his eyes—he knows he’s been
recognized (you can’t just walk around with Kenny G hair and expect
not to be recognized!). Tamre couldn’t resist, she snapped a photo
with the smooth jazz saxophonists:
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| The G-Man himself (I'm technically in this picture, too, if you look closely) |
After Chilly Water, we set out for
Indiana City BrewingCo. in search of Michael Bolton or Yanni.
No luck on the adult contemporary front but plenty of luck on the beer
front! Like Tow Yard, Indiana City is in
a building dripping with character: old loading dock, weathered wood and brick,
big, roll-up doors. The factory ambiance
is lovingly preserved while still offering a space of comfort. While there, I drank
Regulate, a
single-hopped session IPA. They have a
whole Regulate series featuring different hops but, for the life of me, I
forget which one I had. Well, I remember
it being pretty good, anyway.
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| Indiana City |
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| Inside Indiana City |
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| Inside Indiana City |
With a dinner at
Harry & Izzy’s Steakhouse later
that night, Nicole and I concluded our Indiana beer odyssey. However, having been born and raised in the Hoosier
state, I guarantee it won’t be the last time we venture into the Circle City,
hunting down the best and newest breweries in town. Perhaps, if we visit once again for the Indy
Mini, I’ll carb-up even more and surpass this year’s lackluster performance. If not, I’ll console myself with some of the
best beer the Midwest has to offer!
Prost!
Chris
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I enjoy the fact that Indiana City's official vehicle is an old church van
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