It seemed like a good quote when I was chalking it, but now that it is time to write about…
….brain farts
I’m going to talk about beer this morning. I don’t drink beer like I used to and that is the same trend that many Americans are taking.
I can remember beer being in my life from a very early age. My first beer was a Meister Brau poured into a small juice glass. My parents had guests over for a big dinner and cocktail party. People from the neighborhood, the parish and a few of my dad’s railroad buddies.
I was sitting next to Mr. Dove at the dining room table and he pointed out that everyone had a drink, but Master Shepley.
Mr. Dove poured me a beer and as I took my first gulp, Mr. Vargas wished me happy dreams. My mom told me to go get my pajamas on immediately.
The foam on my lips and the first bitter gulp drained down my throat. I’ve been in love with beer ever since. That was the summer before first grade.
Times were different.
Meister Brau ended up going bankrupt, so my allegiance turned to Lowenbrau and Michelob. Then I became an Old Style guy and the rest was history.
I started going to a place on Roosevelt Road called the Weinkeller after I turned twenty-one. They made their own beer and I fell deeper in love with those golden suds.
I was twenty years old and I introduced my dad to this German bierstube that was about a mile from the house. He loved it so much, he ended up inviting Mr. Dove to the Weinkeller for beers. It was on that occasion that everything went full circle.
I had a beer with the guy that poured me my first beer. Mr. Dove passed away shortly after. That night on the Berwyn side of 12th street was when I had the last beer with the man that became Uncle Bill. My dad’s mentor who taught my Oldman how to be a solid draftsman on the railroad…
…and the man who introduced me to beer.
Let’s jump back to 2025.
The Weinkeller has been gone for over twenty-five years. Since the early 2010’s, I’ve been going to The BuckleDown brewery off of First Avenue and 47th street.
They make an American IPA called Belts and Suspenders or simply, “Belts.”
I’m not an IPA guy.
Since I cut my teeth on pilsners and lagers, I drink a beer that BuckleDown makes called Fritzicuffs.
The first sip of Fritzicuffs brought me back to the dinner table in 1972.
I read an article yesterday that said more small brewers are closing than opening. The cost of aluminum for the beer cans is skyrocketing. So is the price of barley and hops. Shipping costs aren’t getting better either.
What do we do about this? What would Uncle Bill Dove want me to do about this?
Support your local brewery. Pick up a six pack if you see one at the grocery store. Go directly to the brewery and buy a growler.
Nothing better than sitting on the balcony on a Saturday afternoon in June. All the errands and chores are finished. Especially the most important errands.
Going over to Alpine Sub for an Italian sandwich and going to BuckleDown for a growler of Fritzicuffs.
Family businesses that have become staples to the community. Don’t give your money to Anheuser-Busch or Miller. Spend your money on something that is made especially for you.
Every Fritzicuffs keg that is made, is preciously crafted for JumboLove. Those assclowns down in Saint Louis or up in Wisconsin give two shits about me and my lagers.
The purpose of today’s Morning Chalkboard is to support our local breweries. Every glass of beer we drink keeps their families fed.
I don’t have my parent’s dining room table anymore. The Weinkeller is a parking lot for Turano Bakery. Meister Brau, Lowenbrau and Michelob are all gone. Old Style has sucked since they stop kreusening it in LaCrosse…
…. BUTT (that is a big Shepley butt)
BuckleDown and many local breweries are still around. Go have a beer and toast all the Mr. Doves that poured us our first beer.
Winter is back in the Chicagoland area.
Go be astonished
