Countdown to a Heady Topper Trip
Well, actually I'm counting down to my annual family camping trip to Vermont's Groton State Forest. As the story goes, our family has been going to the same campground in Vermont since my mother was a pre-teen (I'll leave out the dates out of respect and on account of I'm not really sure). My boys and their cousins are the fourth generation to enjoy the rocks and beaches of Stillwater Lake. Recently, a big bonus (for the adults at least) has been getting our hands on the best beer around: Heady Topper from The Alchemist.
I let him go first and tried to wait patiently in the idling car with three dozing kids. I fantasized about what might be inside: a gigantic silver and black room, with cases of Heady to the ceiling and friendly bearded brewguys spread modestly about. I pictured Eric in there, in all his glory, tasting fresh Heady from the tap and who knows what else. (Yes, Alchemist does actually make other beers. Though, I have yet to try their Focal Banger.)
Finally, I saw him shuffle to the the back of the car. A gleaming smile ear to ear and two cases of silver and black in his arms.
It was my turn. I virtually skipped up the slope to the door and inside. The first sight in front of me was a tall glass window, separating me from the canning and brewing. My eyes followed silver and black as it twisted its way through the back of the facility. Some of the cases stopped by the window, were deposited on a hand-truck, next to a door where front-of-house brewguys grabbed case after case, and handed them over the counter directly to the short line of people. You don't get cans fresher than this.
I pulled up to the tasting bar and sampled Heady on-tap in a plastic cup. It was good of course, but I felt a bit rushed, and guilty with the kids sleeping outside. And I was drinking it alone.
As I sipped, I took everything else in. Behind me was a corner of merchandise, in the expected silver and black plus some green highlights. All in all, it was not a flashy facility. The space open to the public was small and not cozy. But looking back through the tall window, I could understand they had their priorities straight.
I left the building with my 2 cases, and as we loaded the trunk, Eric and I drooled at the haul. During the last few days back at camp we managed to go through at least a case, trying to keep some to bring back to our beer fridges in New Jersey. (That was a feat, as Heady goes real good by a campfire with your brother.) That fall, we sent many text messages back and forth, the simplest read just "HT". Our way of sharing our favorite beer, even if we couldn't get together in person.
Fast forward to our 2014 camping trip. The Alchemist brewery had since closed to the public, so we checked their website and timed a trip to the Beverage Baron in Barre, VT. This time we left the kids with their grandmother and my wife at camp. Eric, my father and I waited for 2 hours in a line that wrapped around the back of the liquor store. Dad appreciates the beer, but mostly wanted a day out with his boys. And that meant Eric and I could get a case and a half each. We talked.We window-shopped the beer coolers. And we waited in anticipation for the delivery truck.
To quote Eric, "the delivery guy rolled in like a rock star". When that back door opened, everyone craned their necks to see how much he was bringing in. iPhone cameras clicked. Through the door, we could see the truck, with green hops on the side. That view was quickly blocked by the one cart hauling cases of that silver and black. The line quietly moved along, as each person lifted their 1 case-per-person from the cart and checked out in a reverent, orderly fashion.
Two hours after arriving at the store, we were out the door with our haul. And starving. We started out of town with no idea where to eat. We settled in at a local burrito joint on the same main drag. We ordered Heady Topper with our food. Because we could.
We'll be in line next Thursday (7/23) at the Hunger Mountain Co-op in Montpelier.
First and Only
Two years ago, my older (and only) brother Eric and I left camp for Waterbury, VT. Since this was the first year bringing our own kids (without spouses), we obviously had to hit the Ben & Jerry's Factory. When the sugar rushes just started to subside, we piled back in the car for a long ride across the street to the brewery and cannery. Eric and I took turns watching the dozing kids in the car, while the other went inside.I let him go first and tried to wait patiently in the idling car with three dozing kids. I fantasized about what might be inside: a gigantic silver and black room, with cases of Heady to the ceiling and friendly bearded brewguys spread modestly about. I pictured Eric in there, in all his glory, tasting fresh Heady from the tap and who knows what else. (Yes, Alchemist does actually make other beers. Though, I have yet to try their Focal Banger.)
Finally, I saw him shuffle to the the back of the car. A gleaming smile ear to ear and two cases of silver and black in his arms.
It was my turn. I virtually skipped up the slope to the door and inside. The first sight in front of me was a tall glass window, separating me from the canning and brewing. My eyes followed silver and black as it twisted its way through the back of the facility. Some of the cases stopped by the window, were deposited on a hand-truck, next to a door where front-of-house brewguys grabbed case after case, and handed them over the counter directly to the short line of people. You don't get cans fresher than this.
I pulled up to the tasting bar and sampled Heady on-tap in a plastic cup. It was good of course, but I felt a bit rushed, and guilty with the kids sleeping outside. And I was drinking it alone.
As I sipped, I took everything else in. Behind me was a corner of merchandise, in the expected silver and black plus some green highlights. All in all, it was not a flashy facility. The space open to the public was small and not cozy. But looking back through the tall window, I could understand they had their priorities straight.
I left the building with my 2 cases, and as we loaded the trunk, Eric and I drooled at the haul. During the last few days back at camp we managed to go through at least a case, trying to keep some to bring back to our beer fridges in New Jersey. (That was a feat, as Heady goes real good by a campfire with your brother.) That fall, we sent many text messages back and forth, the simplest read just "HT". Our way of sharing our favorite beer, even if we couldn't get together in person.
Year Two
 |
| Cart of Heady Topper. Barre, VT July 2014 |
To quote Eric, "the delivery guy rolled in like a rock star". When that back door opened, everyone craned their necks to see how much he was bringing in. iPhone cameras clicked. Through the door, we could see the truck, with green hops on the side. That view was quickly blocked by the one cart hauling cases of that silver and black. The line quietly moved along, as each person lifted their 1 case-per-person from the cart and checked out in a reverent, orderly fashion.
I Don't Care About Ratings.
Year after year, Heady Topper continues to top the beer ratings charts. And rightly so in my book. But I've also been hearing the "overrated" claims and the notion that its all cultist hype. I've even heard this in my own beer club, for shame! Maybe its the limited distribution. Maybe its the long lines. For me, I love the beer. But I love the adventure I get to share with my brother and dad each year the most.We'll be in line next Thursday (7/23) at the Hunger Mountain Co-op in Montpelier.
Comments
Post a Comment