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William Often Carlton = ORT.
SPECIAL BEER EDITOR FOR THE FLAGPOLE.
I blurted out. “Is that licorice in there?” John asked. It really
1:L„ fTnmc nr lpn«r ) The hartender
On the weekend of March 1 -3, John Gayer (longtime Ath
ens homebrewer, owner of Home Brewing Supply, brewer for
Blind Man Ale, and friend) and I ventured to Columbia, S.C.
He was due to make some “in-person” appearances to pro
mote his product Saturday night, and 1 was designated driver
and navigator.
The first order of business when we arrived at 11:10 Fri
day night was to grab a bite to eat to absorb the alcohol we
figured we were about to consume. The Seaboard Diner (a
Columbia landmark since 1951: it formerly was located in the
old Amtrak station; when that was tom down, it moved three
blocks down the street to its present location) loomed up
on the right, so we pulled in and repasted. The pimiento
cheeseburger is highly recommended (although amazingly
sloppy), and the onion sausage (made locally) makes a won
drous omelette. The Seaboard is quite the place when in
The Palmetto City.
Our next chore was to locate the brewpubs. After all, this
was a major portion of what the entire trip — and certainly
the largest part of our coming a night ahead of business time
— was all about. There are three already up and running, and
three more are planned. We eventually visited all three, tast
ing all 13 of their beers on tap. We will report on them herein.
Up Gervais we drove, heading toward downtown, in the
heart of the Vista area where all three places were rumored
to be located. Serendipitously on the right we saw Vista
Brewing Co., located at 936 Gervais St. A parking place
awaited us. We practically dove in the door.
The room was filled with tuxcdoed(!) and heeled-and-
hosed young professional sorts — something we were not
about to be, even in a masquerade. Dressed in our t-shirts,
jeans and tennis shoes, we stood out — but nobody seemed
to notice! They were too busy admiring each other to pay
attention to us.
We bellied up to the bar and ordered a sampler. Here
are our comments about the five beers they had on tap at
that moment.
1) SCOTTISH ALE. “This is really good,” John offered.
Damned good. Bereft of hops as per style. A magnificent
smoky undertaste. Winner of The Beer Of The Night award.
2) RASPBERRY WHEAT. Not too shy. Above aver
age. Extract flavor instead of real fruit (which is more ex
pensive).
3) PORTER. Not a bad beer, but too sweet for style.
“At least it’s got a decent finish,” John offered.
4) WINTER ALE. Empty parentheses. Winter Ale?
Well, it don’t get too cold down hereabouts, ’mongst
the palmetters. Nearly tasteless.
5) GOLD. Oxidized. Not something to be
judged as it exists here. Flawed. A Try Again.
We’ll be back.
Next we hurled ourselves around the cor
ner to Columbia Brewing Co., which is at
the other end of the same block at 931 Sen
ate St. In spite of its immense
cavernousness, it proved to be even more
crammed. (It may have even been a bowl
ing alley previously.) The people were
dressed more casually. I noted that the menu
board listed the date brewed, the date tapped,
and the alcohol percentage: a nice touch. They had
five beers on tap also. Here is what we wrote.
1) CAPITAL CITY RASPBERRY WHEAT. Insipid. Has
a phenolic contamination. John likes it okay. 4 0% alcohol.
2) C. C. I. OLDJAIL ALe. Nothing to it. “Is that a cream
ale?” John asked. “I don’t know what it is,” I replied. 3.5%.
3) KOCKSHUR RED. Gets the Butter Award for too
much diacetyl. “Cool maltiness,” John offered. 4.0%.
4) SENATE PAGE PORTER. Is this a porter? Not dry
hopped. "I didn't know prunes were an ingredient of porter,"
said he loved it. 5.j%.
5) HERRBECKERSMAN SELECT. An unfiltered
dunkelbrau of some sort. They let the brewmaster fly with
wings unclipped just once. This resulted. The star of the show.
Big but not overpowering. “This is a really good beer," John
offered. 6.0%.
We had had enough to drink to feel good but not too much
to be illegal and unsafe. We set out to find a place to stay.
Knowing that the state Republican pri
mary was Saturday, most every close-in
room would be taken. After visiting sev
eral motels and finally being told that
there was also a high school softball
tournament in town that weekend,
plus leakover from Orangeburg due
to the 100th anniversary festivities
of South Carolina State Univer
sity there, we were chagrined. At
our last stop, a Lexington County
Sheriff’s Department car pulled in.
I asked the officers where we might
find a room.
“Get on 26 and get off at St.
Andrews Road,” I was told.
‘There’s several places out there and none of
’em’s full yet.” We did just that and were rewarded with a
decent room and slept well.
That’s two of the three brewpubs visited and their beers
critiqued. In typical Ort.-fashion, the best is yet to come, but
you’ll have to wait until next week for it.
It’s worth it.
What an understatement. (15.)
©1996 William Often Carlton
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