Reigniting the Fire: A Response to Your Responses

A Reckoning Was Inevitable—But What About A Revival?

I was pleased that my first Substack post, From Insurgency to Inertia: How Craft Beer Won The Battle But Lost Its Edge, sparked conversation across multiple channels, drawing in brewers, drinkers, and critics alike. Some found echoes of their own frustrations; others challenged my conclusions, offering perspectives that demand attention.

I want to bring some of those voices here—not just to highlight the dialogue but to refine my arguments and broaden our discussion. Beer deserves deeper, sharper criticism than it usually receives, and I aim to make this space one that meets that standard.

"The Formerly New Becomes the Boring"

Alan McLeod, the noted beer writer and critic behind agoodbeerblog.com, offered this:

"When I read pieces like this, I wonder why some likely causes are missed. Like fads move on. The formerly new becomes the boring. The interests of youth become the habits of middle age. Plus, perhaps particularly for craft beer, evangelicals start to look like carnies."

I’ve chosen to begin with Alan’s comment because it is indicative of a broader skepticism I often hear: Wasn’t this inevitable? Isn’t this just the natural cycle of things? The end of an era? A return to normalcy? To which I say—beer is not a fad. It is the most enduring popular alcoholic beverage in human history. And craft beer is not a fad either. Rather, it is a return to the way beer has always been produced and consumed.

For the vast majority of beer’s history—save the brief period between U.S. Prohibition and the rise of the craft beer and slow food movements in the 1990s—beer has been made by companies of varying sizes, distributed with regional focus, and imbued with local identity. That isn’t a passing trend; it’s the proper operation of an industry centered around products that are overwhelmingly best consumed fresh and have, for centuries, helped shape and solidify regional character¹. What was unnatural was the industrial consolidation that turned beer in the U.S. into a uniform commodity with no locus of origin for much of the 20th century.

All that said, Alan’s critique is valuable because it challenges us to acknowledge a simple truth: nothing remains novel forever. Hazy IPAs once caused lines around the block at some breweries. Now, I expect to find them in brewery-fresh condition when grocery shopping. Certain Bourbon-barrel-aged stouts were once whispered legends, traded on message boards like treasured memorabilia. Now, they’re piled on pallets at Costco.

Where Alan’s critique is about the broader inevitability of change, the following comment, from my close friend, Joe, a long time craft beer enthusiast, drills down into how that shift has played out for the individual beer drinker—someone who once thrilled at discovery but now finds himself wading through a sea of sameness:

"As a knowledgeable beer consumer, but someone outside the industry, I am nostalgic for the days of innovation and personal discovery. Early on, even a Newcastle or Racer 5 was novel compared to most menu options. As my palate refined, I would get excited about a Death & Taxes or a Fritz Briem 1809, not only because these were excellent but also very distinct (the only Black Lager or Berliner Weisse available to me in most cases). Breweries like Moonlight or The Bruery would experiment constantly, with wildly varying results.

Now, I can get 10 variations of IPA at every brewery, and often a Mexican-style lager, pilsner, stout, or sour to round out the menu. A local store might have 200 of the same-shaped cans, which feigns variety but is indistinguishable from afar. Very little excites me. Maybe it's because I'm old and hardened and have to take care of a kid at 7 AM. Maybe it's because while many of the beers are good, hardly any of them are unique.

I suppose a Cicerone's role is to teach and curate. I miss beer bars where this was done well. Part of the difficulty, I understand, is that I can get almost everything at a store, on my own. It's a copycat culture, and in a saturated market, one brewery cannibalizes another. Consolidation of the industry might be necessary. But for the survivors, I think it would serve them well to consider their unique brand. I'm most likely to return to a brewery for 1-2 unique flagship products, along with some limited/small-batch/brewery-only experimentation. Not for a huge rotation of SKUs or 10 IPAs that are effectively the same as 10 IPAs at 10 other breweries in my town."

Joe’s comment echoes something I touched on in my original piece: we are, in many ways, victims of our success. What was once extraordinary has become routine. The craft beer industry thrived as we trained customers to expect and exalt constant novelty. I gestured toward this in my original piece when I wrote about “making the rabbit hole bottomless”—the idea that there is always more to learn, always another layer to peel back. Perhaps it is time for us Cicerone-types to shift our focus from going broad to diving deep. A customer who loves a particular Czech lager gets introduced to the different ways it can be presented via the proper faucet, or a customer who loves Rauchbiers gets presented a Grodziskie, or, one you watched chase the heights of hop aroma from loud West Coast IPAs to obnoxious Hazy ones bolstered by expressive fermentation, gets to thinking about thiols.

As Alan points out, feigning enthusiasm to entice customers into an experience that does not serve them is what “carnival barkers” do. Our new normal begs that we “evangelists” update our sense of purpose. Headwinds are not a reason to surrender or shrink our ambitions. They are a reason to once again innovate on behalf of our customers, whether that entails showing them something new or adding nuance to a familiar experience.

I share Joe’s nostalgia for a time of constant discovery and his frustration as someone who once reveled in variety but now feels adrift in a homogenous market. Drawing from his experience in beer and wine, Stuart Canon, a member of the Sacramento Beer Enthusiasts, reacted to the piece, seeing a similar pattern—one where our obsession with the ‘new’ has ironically left us uniquely vulnerable to stagnation:

"I think it seems like there are two kinds of stagnation you are talking about: market, and cultural/maybe creative stagnation. Market is one thing, and alcohol sales are down across the board from what I understand, so it's not just beer. Coming from the wine world, I’ve always thought beer’s biggest cultural challenge is its obsession with chasing the next new thing. In wine, you have houses that have been around for hundreds of years, and no one expects them to make a wine that we've never heard of.

North Coast Brewing has been making really good beers, and those beers are still good, but beer drinkers will leave behind their favorites for whatever is the next thing. I use North Coast as an example because i don't think of them as a very experimental brewery, and they mostly have the same group of beers they have had for a long time. It's unreasonable to expect there to always be something new, in my opinion. I'm not sure what that means for how breweries compete with one another but certainly jumping the shark isn't working now that many sharks have been jumped.

I think beer has just grown to be in the position that a lot of other alcohol is in where people drink their brand of whiskey, and people know the big names. Sure people are putting peanut butter in whiskey now, but largely you know Heaven Hill has been putting out Evan Williams since the 50s and Chateau Lafite Rothschilde has been around since 1855 and Bayerische Staatsbrauerei Weihenstephan is supposedly the oldest brewery in the world and they still have been making a relatively stable portfolio of classic German beer. Maybe I'm one of the assholes that beer wants to keep out but I think this reckoning has always been coming if you build your culture around new new new. I mean, even Apple seems less exciting, and they are constantly removing features from their phone. Maybe that's the next wave- the unbeer. Beer without a headphone jack. The milkshake comes separately from the sour."

Here was my response:

I hope my piece conveyed that "shark-jumping" isn’t the only way to create novelty and reignite customer interest.

Take the side-pull faucet, for example. It’s traditionally used for Pilsners—one of the most conventional, well-established beer styles. Yet a "Slow Pour Pils" can draw lines out the door, proving that even a subtle shift in presentation can feel fresh and exciting.

And while we might quibble over Scrimshaw’s quality, you're right to highlight the high brewhouse standards of most North Coast beers. But they’ve grown stale in other ways. The industry has moved forward—particularly in packaging and freshness—and they’ve been slow to keep up.

I believe brands in this position have an opportunity. Refinement and consumer education can pave the way for renewed enthusiasm. Make a big bet! If not a new beer style, then a rebrand. If not a rebrand, then a new format. Something. Anything. Because standing still is the surest way to fade into the background.

Lastly, wine and spirits are not particularly analogous to beer. There are many reasons: beer is exponentially more popular than either, it is cheaper and faster to produce, it is perishable and not precious. Throughout my career, I have found the coffee industry to be more informative to my work than wine or spirits. This is especially true as retail revenues have become the bread and butter for many small breweries.

Competing in the New Market & The Role of Consumer Taste

Stuart noted that legacy wine, whiskey, and beer brands have thrived by maintaining consistency, while craft beer has built itself on a culture of constant reinvention. Today, as more breweries pivot their focus from wholesale to retail, our relationship with our clientele will shift accordingly. We are no longer just producers. Now we are hosts, storytellers, and curators of experience. Jack Alexander of Burning Barrel Brewing & Spirits has been navigating this shift firsthand. His comments offer a perspective on what it takes to compete in a changing market.

"Consumer tastes continue to evolve, and the introduction of seltzers, RTDs, other categories shows that there's still interest in alcoholic beverages, and the beer market has exploded to include so many different styles. I find it still very interesting and compelling. I think the future is still very bright for the brewery industry, but the bar has been raised.

It seems to me that there are three major categories of consumption: tasting room, restaurant, and retail (selling in stores). With costs having exploded after Covid, a brewery — I think — had to pick what was going to be a realm they would compete in. It takes a lot of money to compete and stand out in any one area.

The expectation of the tasting room experience is higher than it used to be, as more places opened and began competing for the beer-drinking-experience. This is a luxury. It used to be that a place could open in a spartan industrial space, and people would crowd in. While that can still work for a bit, I think people are looking for a place to hang out. The look, the music, whether you have TVs, places for kids (or places free of kids), etc., all work out to create your consumer experience. You need to have something available for any type of consumer — a style that almost anyone could enjoy. That means a lot of taps, and a lot of beer to manage.

I think the in-person beer market is just competing more for the disposable income than it used to, and people are more interested in the overall experience than ever. If you can get by with the majority of your business driven by a direct-to-consumer (on-site or to-go) this is the most profitable, but the least scalable.

I think the restaurant space is still about the beer. If you have great beer, and can get it out into the market people will order it. They don’t care what your tasting room is like. They may not even know where your brewery is, but if they’ve had the beer and know it’s good, they’ll order it. But then, the restaurant model is at the mercy of the restaurants. So many places closed during & after Covid. Lots of places closed owing breweries money, and even getting kegs back was an adventure.

The retail space is where the most competition is, in my opinion. That’s where you are up against RTDs, hard seltzers, and high-quality regional breweries. Margins are low, how the beer is treated is often impossible to control, so your brand is at the whim of the retailer. If you have economies of scale to make money in retail, more power to you. Outside of places that specialize in craft beer, we don’t sell to retail."."

This comment from Bill Fishman, a friend of my father's who has known me since birth and been drinking Lagunitas IPA since it was brewed in the town of Lagunitas, also got me thinking about our relationship to an ever-evolving market:

"I wonder where consumer tastes figure into the equation. I remember you serving a sour beer paired with some kind of cheese at an event in Napa many years ago. I thought it was vile, and I'm guessing there's not a lot of consumer demand. But I appreciated the thought behind the experience. IPA remains my favorite variety, but the proliferation of IPAs has allowed me to appreciate differences and pick favorites. The technical side of brewing is not my focus. It just needs to taste good."

Anyone who creates or curates for a living has a dual relationship to consumer tastes. Sometimes we shape them, and other times we react to them.

Take IPA, for example. Long before they became the dominant style, those same hop-forward, bitter flavors were considered too extreme, and the hop varieties that the modern IPA is built on would have been rejected as offering aromas that were “inappropriate for beer." I know of a major distributor telling an upstart brewer, "You will never build a brewery on an IPA," in 2008!

Thankfully, some stubborn breweries and publicans knew better. They weren’t just reacting to demand; they were creating it, trusting their instincts and pushing boundaries because they believed in what they had.

They introduced the style in the ‘90s and early 2000s and educated consumers about these new flavors and intensity levels. Once that foundation was laid, the industry had to evolve before IPA could achieve the mainstream, “down-market” success it enjoys today.

By the late 2000s and 2010s, pioneering breweries like Russian River, Moonlight, and HenHouse weren’t just making IPAs; they were actively shaping how people understood and consumed them. A beer style so dependent on fresh aroma required a complete rethink of storage, distribution, and retailer education. Refrigeration, shorter shelf life, and proper handling became crucial to presenting IPA as the brewer intended.

So, IPA doesn't become IPA without craft beer creators intentionally and defiantly shaping consumer taste and craft beer curators reacting to that shift in the consumer's best interest.

My piece argues that good things happen in this industry when we reject conventional wisdom and act on the consumer's behalf. However, I fear we are no longer doing enough of either.

Maybe The Future Is Alcohol-Free

Lastly, on the subject of shifting consumer tastes, I wanted to include this eye-opening comment from Joshua James, owner of Ocean Beach Cafe, one of the world’s first non-alcoholic bars:

"Consumers drinking preferences are shifting in a massive way. Getting drunk at a bar isn’t as cool or sexy as it used to be. Millennials hit a certain age and realized the diminishing returns of two beers and the inevitable hangover. We turned 40 and don’t drink like we did at 30. Gen Z values health—of both body and planet. Gen X? Statistically, they’re carrying on as they do. Boomers? Aging out of alcohol. This isn’t a fad—it’s a full-on movement spanning multiple generations for different reasons: society is drinking less, seeking more wellness, and craving healthier options that are freaking delicious.

So give me a Belgian Dubbel that’s Non Alcoholic with a new yeast strain that produces less ABV. I’m 43, and want a big, old-world funk red wine for date night. (These actually exist!) I want more! Because I know I don’t want ethanol in my life—but I LOVE beer and geeking out on it. I’ve brewed over 100 batches myself.

But alcohol? It changes my mood, my whole day, my productivity, my skin, my energy—my entire verve for life. And if it makes someone scoff at me for wanting more wellness in my life and less alcohol, that’s kinda sad. Everyone should be on board for feeling better the next day and able to have a badass beer any day.

Give us an amazing, badass option because we’re in the business of getting together, connecting, cheersing an epic beverage that’s blowing our minds, learning about it, and creating great memories. This happens whether there is alcohol in the glass or not. Innovate, pivot, adapt, and make badass Non Alcoholic Beer."

My response:

First, on a practical level, NA is a tricky category for most breweries to enter. For the overwhelming majority, it is expensive to brew, precarious to keep safely, and tricky to brand. If I had to make a prediction, I’d say that the largest craft brewers and a handful of exclusive NA operations will eventually dominate the NA beer game.

The most interesting conversation is about why people patronize a bar or taproom. Josh and I appear to agree that the best thing a drink/bar can do is provide folks with a venue for social interaction. I know there’s a growing demand for NA beer, and I would never dismiss the reasons behind it. But I am skeptical of any form of abstinence, and I also wonder if, in removing alcohol from the equation, we risk losing something essential. Alcohol has never just been about taste—it’s about easing into a conversation, or softening the edges of a long day, helping us connect. If the future is alcohol-free, what does that mean for the culture we’ve built around drinking? That said, I have much to learn about the sober world, and I would love to have an extended conversation with Josh about what he’s building with Ocean Beach Cafe and the AFNA movement in general. *Look out for this conversation in a future publication.*

Conclusion: It Is Our Responsibility to Reignite

To return to Alan’s original point—yes, what was once new becomes expected. Yes, trends ebb and flow. But for those of us tethered to this industry, we cannot simply throw up our hands and say, "Well, that was fun while it lasted."

It is our job to reinvigorate the industry and reengage our customers. The best way to do that is not through gimmicks or nostalgia, but by learning from the successes of the past three decades and applying those lessons to the future.

A reckoning was always coming. But those of us who built, shaped, and fought for this industry can’t afford to go limp and be carried off. The arc of the capitalist universe will always bend to Budweiser, but we’ve pulled beer out of that gutter before. We made people care about what’s in their glass. Now it’s time to do it again. Not by chasing trends, but by doubling down on what makes our work worth seeking out, talking about, and obsessing over.

We don’t have to fade quietly. We just have to get back on our shit.

1. *It could be that small-scale beer manufacturing and localized beer distribution are incompatible with late-stage capitalism. In the original piece, I reference the historic brewing institutions in Europe. I sincerely hope that US beer is headed toward those levels of institutional knowledge and stability. Still, it is worth noting that managed economies of varying sorts have bolstered the great German, Czech, and Belgian brewing institutions. This is a subject I hope to engage fully when I am better informed. Stay tuned*