Brew Prep and a little Atlantean Exploration

In honor of the spring break that isn't (yes, I do have one scheduled, no, it isn't actually a vacation) I pretended my world was pre-law school today. First I got up and watched episode 4 of She-Ra, Princess of Power on Hulu while I had my coffee. I eschewed the business casual wardrobe that has become a necessity during the week and put on tight, goofy t-shirt, converse all stars, and, my old Buddy Holly rimmed glasses. Then I went exploring.

A lot of people bitch about Atlanta, and many of the same people then wax lyrical about Portland, OR being one greatest places on earth. (Me included.) It is true that it's hard to see past unbelievably bad urban planning and the big coke signs here in the ATL. It's also true that it takes very little time to forget how hard it is not to jump off a bridge by mid march and the 90th straight day of gray, drizzly sky in the Great Northwest.

Anyway. During my explorations today I had a very Atlanta experience, and an epiphany. The epiphany had to do with the Portland/Atlanta comparisons that I try very hard not to make, but still do. I was driving down Ponce towards Peachtree, passing buildings that would be alternately glaring plastic chain restaurant glitz, broken down, grafitti covered brick; brightly painted, bohemian looking chic, or old gothic stone, in no particular order.

The interesting thing is, particularly in Atlanta, what the thing looks like on the outside will be absolutely no indicator of what will be inside. It seems like a lot of people spend a bunch of money making a place look and feel amazing. . . but then totally fail to have decent food, or forget to hire good customer service. Also, the assumption here is frequently that the bigger and shinier something is, the better it must be. My experience in Portland was that a lot of times, if a place or a person presented as being kind of bohemian, poor and gritty, if you scratched the surface, the person would have a Ph.D. in philosophy and a trust fund, and the place would be serving organic, farm fresh eggs on a paper plate. Here, you are just as likely to find a great, shiny atmosphere or (or hairdo), scratch the surface, and find eggbeaters served to you on really nice china. It's weird. Both sides are faking it, but the perception of what will be valued is totally polarized.

That being said, I've recently been finding all sorts of nifty little places, hidden in the crooks of Atlanta's twisting, nonsensical maze of multi-named streets.

In pursuit of a project for my blog on the Docket, (and also personal enrichment and all that) I made my way through downtown and the Georgia Tech Campus to "Hop City", and incidentally, Five Seasons Brew Pup. Hop City Might be my new favorite place. It's a combination craft brew and wine shop. I mostly didn't care about the wines section, but the shelves and shelves of microbrews almost brought me to tears. There is an entire aisle just for stouts and porters.

One of the salespeople, Craig, helped me come up with a recipe for a porter and find the minimum number of gadgets I need to make the brewing process happen. Then he walked me through his version of how to brew this particular recipe. He was very nice, and it was generally a pretty fun experience.

But this isn't just about Hop City - the whole development it's in is very cool. I mean, aside from having more parking space, it could have been in the Pearl. Very pleasant and walkable. . .though, naturally, hemmed in on all sides by busy surface streets.

Anyway. Having purchased my equipment (and, ok, one mix pack) I wandered into Five Seasons for lunch. One of our neighbors knows the owner, and recommended it. Craig also said "you gotta", so I did. I was unsure - Atlanta "brewpubs" may brew (or may not), and they defnitely don't feel like pubs to me. In my world, a pub is a relatively small space, dim, with a wooden bar and some tables - probably a few more tables that there's really room for. There is random funky decor covering the unfinished brick walls, and maybe a few things hanging from the rafters. The waitstaff are hairy, tattooed and wearing whatever they want, probably with a cig behind one ear.

A well-lit, three story-high-ceilinged, shiny-metal-and-plastic, windows for walls establishment does not say brew-pub to me. I like to feel safe and enclosed while I'm having my beer. But then again, I've only been here for three years. Give me time. Anyway. Five Seasons is nice, but it definitely plays to Atlanta Money, not Portland Alcoholic. It's very big, shiny and open feeling, but they got points for playing Joni Mitchell, the bar and tables are wood, and the line of taps behind the bar with handwritten labels of all their microbrews warmed the cockles of my judgmental little heart.

Since it was only 12:30 in the afternoon, I got to choose my table. I found one sort of behind a corner of the bar, where I could have a wall behind me and watch everything that was going on; and settled in to taste this highly regarded local brew. Even though it was only noon I tried the "Dark Star Porter" (yes, I like Porters. This has never been a secret)

Fabulous. If I hadn't had to drive home, I'd have sampled everything they made. The Dark Star was sooo good. Dark and rich, but very smooth and drinkable going down, with a lovely aftertaste. Agh! So Good! At this point I also found out that it's illegal in Georgia to fill Growlers. So, you know, we still have a ways to go.