Who knew Drinking Good Beer could Save the World

I know I’ve said this before but it bears repeating: I love the Sandpoint library. I have yet to walk in its doors and not come away with some gem of a book having nothing to do with what I came in for.
Case in point: Several weeks ago I was cruising the cookbook section, looking for inspiration for my column, when I stumbled upon a book entitled “Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World” by Christopher Mark O’Brien. I flipped through the pages and thought my husband, Jon, would love to read it (He is a lover of craft beers and is always looking for ways to save the world). I continued on my search for writing inspiration and, finding none in that aisle, went home and wrote about salad.
When Jon got home that night, I presented him with my find and read him a bit of the introduction. He was intrigued and promised to read it. Unfortunately for him, I was intrigued as well and whisked the book away before he had a chance to start it. I’ve been enjoying it ever since.
The book, like its title suggests, is all about how drinking craft beer can save our planet. O’Brien likens the degradation of our environment and the globalization of our society to what happened to the once diverse and thriving beer culture. He insists that the takeover of beer by large multinational corporations after prohibition caused some of these problems and by drinking craft beer we can fix them.
Beer was once a local product, made with the ingredients of the region and brewed in ways past down by generations of brewsters (the first beer brewers were women and they continued to have control of this vital household product until the Middle Ages). It required very few resources to produce, it didn’t need to be transported across the world (and before refrigeration, it really couldn’t be transported very far), and it created a sense of community and place.
Beer was deeply entrenched in the culture and religion of almost every region of the world until men with money and power realized they could make more money and garner more power if they regulated beer-making. In the 1500s, purity laws made the homebrews of women illegal while promoting standardized mass-production. After 10,000 years of homebrewing, it only took a few hundred years of regulation and the advent of prohibition for the world to go from thousands of different types of beer to one predominant style, light lager. That’s what the watered down, insipid product made by all the multi-national beer corporations now-a-days is called (I like to call it yellow beer when I’m being kind, and piss water when I’m not).
O’Brien laments the passing of what he calls “beerodiversity” when the “beerocracy” of AnheuserBuschCoorsMiller etc. “globeerized” beer production and redefined beer as light lager. He argues that not only was taste compromised but the social and community aspects of beer drinking were undermined by these big corporations. He effectively makes the point that if we want to improve our communities and our environment, we need to stop drinking bad beer shipped halfway around the country and start drinking local brew.
This is where his point hit home with me. I’ve written lots of column inches about how great it is to eat local but I’d never thought to apply the same logic to my beer drinking. And lucky for us, unlike Mississippi, which O’Brien likens to a “beerological dead zone” (since they have only two craft breweries in the entire state), Sandpoint has great beerodiversity. We have two craft breweries right here plus Eichart’s which features beers of nearby regional breweries. There’s also a small but active homebrewing club.
Drinking local brew can help save the world in many ways. Local brews help create a sense of community and place. They promote creativity and diversity. They conserve resources and often promote sustainability and environmental responsibility.
I started to wonder how many of these ideas were a part of the thinking behind MickDuff’s and Laughing Dog Breweries so I called them up and asked.
Fred from Laughing Dog and Duffy from MickDuff’s were both happy to talk about the philosophies behind their breweries but neither of them had heard of O’Brien’s book. Nevertheless, both had incorporated many of the ideas O’Brien feels are going to save the world.
Both MickDuff’s and Laughing Dog source their malt from a regional malt house (Gabrinus Malting Corporation is itself a small scale, locally oriented business, getting most of their raw ingredients from BC and Alberta) and try to procure their hops from this region (mostly from Yakima, but sometimes even from neighbors’ gardens). Laughing Dog gets their huckleberries from local pickers and both breweries give their spent grain to local pig farmers.
MickDuff’s focuses on the fact that they are both a brewery and a pub, thereby creating a local gathering place for people to meet and talk over a refreshing glass of great beer. Their 140 member mug club is a testament to their following.
They strive to serve food that is natural or organic and they send their used fryer oil off to make biodiesel. They began making at least one organic beer in 2007 as an experiment. It was so successful, they’ve been making it ever since and would probably make all their beers organic if it wasn’t so hard to get their hands on organic malt.
Laughing Dog has made local part of their motto “Think Local, Drink Local” and they’re walking their talk. They use a local craftsman to make their tap handles. They use local businesses for their printing and artwork and promote them in their tap room. They’ve even specified in their contract for their new (recycled) building that local contractors should be used as much as possible.
Laughing Dog is doing its part to save the environment as well. They use about half the amount of water to make their beer as the average brewery and they use only biodegradable cleaners and sanitizers to clean their equipment.
Fred has also been very generous in sharing his knowledge about brewing with the local homebrewers association and often hosts homebrewing events at the brewery.
Both breweries help customers do their part to save valuable resources by allowing us to avoid wasteful packaging and refill our growlers (basically a big glass jug for transporting beer) right from the taps, thereby avoiding the need for six pack holders, bottles and bottle caps. Of course, sipping a cold glass right at the bar avoids all that packaging as well.
While you’re bellied up to the bar, don’t be surprised if you find yourself talking to your neighbor on the next stool about the weather or maybe even how we can all do our part to help save the world one beer at a time. Cheers!


Beer Bread
Makes 1 loaf

1 ½ c. Beer , at room temperature (this is a great way to use up the last of your growler that you didn’t finish before it went flat)
2 T. molassas
1 t. salt
1 T. active yeast
2 c. unbleached white flour
1 c. rye flour
½ c. oatmeal
1 ½ T. caraway seeds

Using an electric mixer, place first 6 ingredients in the bowl and mix for 4-5 minutes on medium speed. Add oatmeal and caraway and mix until well blended. Cover the bowl and set in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 30 min.
Grease and flour and 9x5” loaf pan. Stir down the mixture and pour it into the prepared pan. Place the pan in a cool oven and allow the mixture to double in bulk.
Turn the oven to 325 F and bake for 45 to 50 minutes. Remove from pan and bake on the oven rack for 5 more minutes.

The Truffle Biting Ceremony

Jon and I got married last weekend. The weather was fabulous, the setting was beautiful, the guests and beverages were plentiful. It was a perfect day.
To the outside observer, it may have seemed effortless, but I’m here to tell you that planning a wedding requires lots of lists and months of planning (and, hopefully, only a couple of arguments with your fiancé).
Each of us had been married previously and neither of us had had much of a hand in planning those first weddings. This time we both wanted to make the day our own ( I must admit that deep into the planning I wouldn’t have minded a little help from Mom). We wanted to do things our way even if those ways garnered blank stares or outright astonishment from friends and family.
I wore a mostly black dress and we kayaked in instead of walking down the aisle but this is a food column not a wedding advice column so I’ll get to the most important part of the day both from this column’s point of view and our own: the food (and the beer, says Jon).
And the food really was our biggest concern. We are both serious foodies so it had to be just so. My first thought was to cater it myself. I’ve catered more than my share of parties and even catered a wedding and a wedding rehearsal dinner once. I knew I could do it but once rational thought returned I realized my own wedding was not the best place to show off my culinary skills.
Plan 2 required a caterer. We wanted to use as much local food as possible. We needed a caterer who wouldn’t shy away from the extra work it sometimes takes to source local products. We also wanted a great grill master on hand to make sure those local grass fed burgers from Cascade Creek and lovingly raised lamb kabobs from Good Shepard Lamb Company were cooked to perfection.
It didn’t take long to decide that Di Luna’s would be our choice. Karen Forsythe was happy to use not only the local meat I ordered from Six Rivers Market producers but also incorporate Wheyward Goat Cheese at the very last moment (the chevre just got licenced that week and we were Susanne Wimberly’s first ever customers!). We knew Justin Otis would grill everything to perfection.
The drinks were easy. We are lucky to have a local winery and two local breweries in town and all three offer great products. We ordered kegs from both Laughing Dog and MickDuffs and got an assortment of red, white and rose wine from Pend d’Oreille Winery. There was plenty to quench everyone’s thirst.
Once the main part of the food and the drinks were under control, we needed to come up with dessert. Neither Jon nor I are big fans of wedding cake. Sure, it’s traditional to have a big white tiered cake at a wedding but we were trying to escape tradition in much of our planning. What we do share is a love of chocolate. Even since we started dating, Jon has bought boxes of truffles to celebrate almost any occasion. We always share them. I choose one, take a bite and share the other half with him. Then it’s his turn to choose a flavor and get the first bite.
It seemed like the perfect solution and once again my first impulse was to make all the truffles myself. But then a friend asked if there was anything she could do to help with the wedding, and then another friend asked. It dawned on me that I could kill two birds with one stone if everyone who asked to help was given the task of making a couple of dozen truffles. We were on our way to eschewing the cake cutting ceremony and substitute our own truffle biting tradition.
The truffles came in every flavor you could want including coconut rum and Grande Marnier with candied orange peel. Danielle, my new daughter-in-law, collected the offerings as they came in and she swears she could tell a great deal about the maker just from the shape of their truffles (I didn’t ask for details).
I’m not really sure how many truffles arrived on the day of the wedding. It was well over 400. There were plenty to go around and even a few left over (although not for long). What I do know is they were delicious and a big hit. There were chocolate stains on the mouths of both kids and adults and on a few shirts, too.
Incorporating local food and flowers (from Beehaven Farm in Bonners Ferry) and enlisting the help of friends really made our special day even more special. As we begin the task of writing thank you notes, I’d like to use my bully pulpit to say thanks to all the local business and producers who made our day special and an extra big thank you to all my friends who undertook the hazardous job of making truffles.