| CITY OF ATE | t Dish STAY CRAFTY, DALLAS Ten years into the local craft beer boom, North Texas breweries are shaping communities and their own identities. BY LAUREN DREWES DANIELS AND AMY MEYER S trong gusts whipped through Community Beer Co.’s large biergarten just northwest of downtown Dallas on an over- cast Saturday afternoon in April. A glass of beer toppled off a table and bounced on a bench before breaking. Throughout the multilevel indoor and out- door brewery, friends, coworkers, dates, tod- dlers, strollers and countless varieties of doodle dogs gathered around tables. Two food trucks sat nearby, and a deliv- ery driver dropped off a stack of pizza boxes to one of at least three birthday parties being held, all for adults. A few games of cornhole were getting serious; in one, a 2-year-old was dropping bags straight into the hole. Cheater. All of it was washed down with one of 24 Community beers pouring through the taps, made on site. This February, Community moved from a 14,000-square-foot warehouse in the Design District to this new stand-alone sprawling two-story behemoth that is five times bigger than the original brewery. They were out- growing their original space before the pan- demic hit and switched to a production-only space for most of 2020 and 2021. With this new location, they’re back and bigger than ever, a flagship example of Dallas’ craft beer culture. On that same windy day, just a couple of miles east, a sporty group wearing tight shorts and tank tops gathered in a field across from Celestial Beerworks. It was the brew- ery’s 2nd Annual Field Day, when jocks, nerds and everyone in between relived the best day of each year in elementary school. Inside the taproom, others loaded up on four- packs or sipped draft beer that was made just feet away. Celestial is also working on a “sat- ellite” that will allow them to increase pro- duction and distribution while freeing up “space” at this ground control facility. Ten years ago, events like these weren’t 10 10 allowed at local breweries. Laws that fa- vored mega producers stifled any craft beer Jonathan Eubanks fills a glass at Manhattan Project Beer Co., where they have 20 beers on tap, a coffee bar and a full kitchen. Nathan Hunsinger buzz Dallasites hoped to get. Before 2010, Rahr and Sons Brewing Co. in Fort Worth and Franconia Brewing Co. in McKinney were the only craft breweries in North Texas. In 2011, when Peticolas Brewing and Deep Ellum Brewing Co. opened, they were only allowed to give samples to visitors who paid for a tour. (Remember sample cards?) They couldn’t serve a pint. Nor could they sell cans from their own brewery to take home. In- stead, they had to sign a contract with a dis- tributor and land space on a retail shelf. Meanwhile, the city of Dallas was trying to rein in the blossoming industry as brew- ers tried to explain to code inspectors that they didn’t need grease traps or ice ma- chines. Micheal Peticolas had to get ap- proval from both the City Plan Commission and City Council before he could start pro- duction. Peticolas says he had some city staff come to the brewery one day to give them a tour of what a production brewery entails. It wasn’t until 2012 that the City Council officially al- lowed breweries to operate within the city limits. Then, in 2013, legislation passed that allowed taprooms to open. According to the Brewers Association, in 2014 there were 117 craft breweries in Texas with an economic impact of $3.7 billion; in 2019 those numbers had grown to 341 brew- eries and $5.4 billion. Impact per capita across the state has risen from $205 to $270 over that five-year span. After a pandemic slump, breweries are almost back to those 2019 numbers. By 2021, the number of breweries jumped to 406, with North Texas account- ing for about a quarter of the total. After years of wrestling for updated state legislation, the craft beer industry scored some wins that allowed them to sell beer in their breweries (2013) and beer-to-go (2019). That has led to biergartens full of lo- cals drinking local beers. Additionally, craft beers line the coolers at stores, and it’s no longer unusual for a bar to have local options on tap. Today, the question isn’t, “Do you have anything local?” but rather “Which lo- cal beers do you have?” Breweries are finding ways to thrive by creating community spaces, offering unique experiences and food along with craft beer to build loyalty to a place as much as a par- ticular beer. While some question the strat- egy of pandering to Dallas’ fickle palate and valuing engagement and experience, it ap- pears there’s room for everyone at the tap. P erhaps you remember the first time you sipped a Blood and Honey from Revolver Brewing Co. Or maybe your ah-ha craft beer moment came with a glass of Velvet Hammer. At the beginning of the local craft boom, there were gateway beers leading a goodwill campaign, charm- ing anyone who would imbibe. “Velvet Hammer, Blood and Honey, Lakewood’s Temptress and Community’s Mosiac defined North Texas beer and to a large extent still do,” says Peticolas, founder and owner of Peticolas Brewing Co., which brews Velvet Hammer. As the beer industry has grown across the state, with some 90 breweries across North Texas alone, new beers are tapped weekly. It’s a busy field, and there’s a need to stay relevant and stand out. Is that good or bad for craft beer? The an- swer depends on whom you ask. “What’s hip today might be nothing to- morrow,” says Dennis Wehrmann, who founded Franconia Brewing Co. in McKin- ney in 2008 but has since sold his stake in that company and now keeps himself busy brewing at Beard Science Sour House at The Truck Yard in The Colony. Wehrmann thinks the evolution of the craft beer scene over the past 10 years is good but worries that breweries are missing a chance to establish their own brand by try- ing to keep up with fads. “The customers couldn’t make a deci- sion. Now there’s this place, maybe we need to go over there. There’s another new brew- ery, now let’s try this one out. None of these breweries had a chance to establish their brewery and brand. They didn’t have a chance to establish customer loyalty,” Weh- rmann says. With monthly and sometimes weekly new beers, Wehrmann says, overproduc- tion of beer styles got out of control. “Crazy stuff happened,” he says. “If you look around in the market today, what is consid- ered beer, it’s not actually beer anymore. It’s fermented water with carbonation in it and called seltzer.” Brian Brown runs a website BeerinBigD. com, which documents the craft beer scene in North Texas. Brown agrees that drinkers are “always in search of the shiny new penny.” “Brand loyalty is fleeting with some fa- voring whoever stays on top of the latest trends. Plus, demand calls for a steady flow of new releases,” Brown says. “You’re doing it wrong if you focus on classic styles brewed year-round. It’s unfortunate, be- cause it feels like the timing of these factors has hindered the area’s ability to develop into a nationally recognized craft beer des- tination.” At Celestial Beerworks, a steady flow of new beers is part of their identity. In addi- tion to field day, science fair projects, space and art (and all of those mixed together), part of the experience they offer is a contin- ually fresh menu beer. MONTH XX–MONTH XX, 2014 MAY 12–18, 2022 DALLAS OBSERVER DALLAS OBSERVER | CLASSIFIED | MUSIC | DISH | MOVIES | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | FEATURE | SCHUTZE | UNFAIR PARK | CONTENTS | CLASSIFIED | MUSIC | DISH | CULTURE | UNFAIR PARK | CONTENTS dallasobserver.comdallasobserver.com
