Changing Scenes: A move from Pennsylvania to Rhode Island

[A recent transition from graduate school in Pennsylvania to a new job in Rhode Island means I’m a week behind my originally imposed weekly writing schedule. However, it has given me inspiration to discuss the craft beer scenes of the two locales, taking a look at what I’ve left behind, what I have to look forward to, and what characterizes some of the differences between these two craft beer communities.]

The Monday of the week I packed up and left Pennsylvania, I went out with friends to Otto’s Brewery, for one last round of local brewpub beers. I savored their hoppy selections, some of Charlie Schnable’s better work, moving from the Belgian IPA (Tripel D), to the Slab Cabin IPA (a toned-down version of their Double D IPA for these hop-hard times), and the cask-served british-style Arthur’s IPA. All were excellent, the company was pleasant, and I enjoyed my last locally-raised, grass-fed beef burger and fries with world-class beer. Living so close to a brewpub producing such a fine range of beers and offering local foods was a real blessing during the past two years of my life. A day later, I swung by Zeno’s Pub for one last pint (a Barrel-aged Zeno’s Rye Ale – an Otto’s contract brew) in the familiar, basement setting of a world class beer bar that at times was only mere blocks from my apartment. In State College, I was beer rich and very grateful to have access to both local creativity and imported world influence. It will be something that I miss as I settle into my new life in Rhode Island.

While my new digs in the Ocean State lack an Otto’s-type brewpub within a reasonable distance (the nearest is Coddington and let’s just say it’s less than exciting), Rhode Island does offer a variety of other beer-related pleasures. The first of these is freedom from Pennsylvania’s stifling beer distribution laws and regulations. Wakefield (my nearest town center) offers both a fine beer store (Wakefield Liquor) and a beer bar with a decent selection (Mew’s Tavern – no Zeno’s, however). The beer store has a selection of singles affordably priced (gasp!) and a really diverse selection of local, regional, and imported beers. Second, Rhode Island affords one a close proximity to surrounding beer scenes much easier than does the middle of Pennsylvania. The fact that I’m writing this while I ride the commuter rail from into Boston from Providence for a one-day adventure in a large city is ample evidence. The two-to-three hours of driving from State College to either Pittsburgh or Philadelphia can’t compete with a one-hour train ride.

Beyond logistical affordances or the comforts of particular brewpubs, brewers, and their styles, the regions offer something different in terms of the attitude and cultural appreciation directed at beer. The differences are nuanced and will likely further reveal themselves in more detail as I spend more time in New England, but some initial impressions are worthy of examination. To me, craft beer culture in Pennsylvania gets frothy. There’s a lot of fervor around new releases (Troegs, Bullfrog, etc.) and many beer geeks travel throughout the state’s diverse culture of brewers to sample exciting new renditions, sharing that appreciation with other craft beer drinkers through websites like RateBeer, blogs, and twitter. In some ways, it’s as if there’s not really anything else for a craft beer aficionado to do in their spare time.

Here, in the parts of New England I’ve engaged so far, beer feels more like a necessary accessory to the wonderful array of activities this rich part of the country offers. With perceptibly less hype, expectation, and ego, craft beer just is, if you want it to be. I’ve already seen more beer bars and brewpubs (!) sling light commercial lagers to appeal to those who might not be interested in something heftier, even if it is made on the premise. This is not an attitude shared in many parts of Pennsylvania, where those who go into a brewpub and ask for Bud Light might be more likely to get a friendly lecture about craft beer, not a napkin and a longneck.

At the same time, the craft beer audience seems more diverse, everyday, and harder to typify. During a recent visit to the Track 84 beer bar in Warwick, I was pleasantly surprised to see an everyday range of folks getting excited about a decent, yet simple, selection of Belgian styles, with minimal pretention, and none of the obsessively deep knowledge that many craft beer geeks following up-to-date brewing scenes tend to cultivate. They were just digging the diversity that was on tap at their local beer bar. The New England beer scene doesn’t strike me as one that’s overly dominated by hipsters and yuppies, just people. You drink beer, it’s probably local, and you don’t make a fuss about it. While this might bother some, it’s something that I can settle into. A fine example of this is the classic lobster and clam bake that so many New Englanders (and others) enjoy. It’s a time-honored tradition of fresh local seafood and it’s perfectly paired with a tall pour of whatever local beer you can find on an early fall evening.