Hip Hops: Yes, craft beer is still being “brewed for flavor and drinkability”

Lest there be any misunderstandings, allow me to begin by stressing my bona fides as they pertain to TEN20 Craft Brewery.

I like it, a lot. It’s been a personal favorite of mine since opening in Butchertown in 2020, and the fact that a TEN20 satellite taproom has come to rest in SoIN (Clarksville) within easy Ohio River Greenway bicycling distance from my house in New Albany — not to mention the proximity of Upland Brewing’s nearby restaurant and taproom — conjures visions of dreamy future rehydration stops.

What’s more, I might even be able to pretend, if only for a glorious moment, that the Ohio is the Rhine, or even the Danube. Louisville can’t be Vienna, though it might make the grade as Linz in a pinch.

This being said, let’s discuss the cardstock announcement we received (cover photo) from TEN20 via the U.S. Mail in mid-December, beginning with my wife’s incredulous reaction: “When’s the last time we got a campaign mailer for a brewery?”

Answer: It’s been a long, long time.

Now follow the red arrow to a marketing turn of phrase that fascinates me: “Brewed for flavor and drinkability!”

I’m not being critical; far from it. Likely these five words are an irony-laden inside joke or perhaps a nod to vintage marketing tropes; still, they seem to utterly encapsulate the experience of being a beer enthusiast as we approach the fiftieth anniversary (in 2026) of New Albion Brewing Co. in California, the first DIY outpost of what grew to become microbrewing, and later “craft” beer.

Consider TEN20’s target demographic with this mailer: older people.

This isn’t because young beer drinkers don’t patronize TEN20. I’ve seen ‘em with my own two eyes. There may or my not have been demographic filters deployed here, but in essence the brewery is introducing itself to its new Southern Indiana clientele — with snail mail, and exactly who gives a damn about snail mail?

That’d be older SoIN residents, precisely like me. I’m flattered, to be honest. My demographic is loyal, and we have money to spend. You’d think this would constitute a recommendation.

Back in the 1990s, when the hardy pioneers first undertook to introduce “abnormal” beer to people who were terrified of it, they usually replied “but don’t you have any NORMAL beer?” Invariably it was necessary to reassure them that no, not all “micros” are dark, strongly-flavored or overly alcoholic.

Some were. Others were not.

It all depended on the specific style of beer being brewed; knowing the styles meant making better choices. In sports, coaches are always coaching. In the better beer biz, we all must always be teaching.

Consequently: “Brewed for flavor and drinkability!”

I could do without the exclamation point, but yes, it’s a teaching moment. Precisely as in 1993 (when Bluegrass Brewing Co. was founded), locally brewed craft beer in 2024 definitely can have flavor and be drinkable, all at the same time.

TEN20 might be trying to reassure SoIN newbies that there’ll be a beer handy for them, accessible from their point of entry, not necessarily dark, or sour, or hopped-up to the point of efficient use in stripping wooden floors, or containing stylish ingredients like endive, breakfast cereal or leftover chicken from last evening’s dinner service.

However, TEN20 might also be trying to reassure dazed veterans of the beer wars (read: me) that there’ll be a beer for them, accessible from their point of entry, not necessarily dark, or sour, or hopped-up to the point of efficient use in de-griming countertops, or containing stylish ingredients like kumquats, organic ketchup or leftover tagine from last evening’s dinner service.

Because folks, that’s where we are as 2025 dawns — right back at the starting line.

Forty years of enhanced beer consciousness has somehow led to this strange contemporary era of reverse-beer-anti-consciousness. My guess is that all sorts of factors have combined to produce the counter-revolution of vapid, performative ephemera (not to mention purely wretched Modelo) over principled content: the over-expansion of breweries, inattention to quality, diminishing attention spans owed to the internet, degrading political strife, microplastics in our bloodstreams, bottomless doofussness here, sheer boredom there.

But the biggie to me is that at some point, craft beer simply stopped teaching. That’s when the wheels started falling off the express.

An Instagram photo of a purple Slurpee beer iced with pink gummy umbrellas likely will sell a few of them, short term. Unfortunately the picture ultimately is more likely to inspire photography as a hobby than homebrewing.

Why? Gertrude Stein knew the answer a century ago: Because there’s no there, there.

So, I’ll continue saying it: Beer knowledge matters. With beer knowledge there is beer power. Without it, you’re just a quavering shill in the paws of a soulless marketer, and a fool to be parted from his money.

Being a beer enthusiast simply must involve more of a cerebral exercise than drinking a thousand different beers each year for the sake of internet aggregation, or picking beers from the shelf because the label is cute AF, or tolerating the idiocy wherein a pink icing-encrusted purple gummy Slurpee beer is anything other than a tragic gimmick.

Knowing more about beer means remembering timeless attributes, not forgetting one-off set pieces. It means being able to make your own informed judgments. It places you in a venerable line of human achievement dating back thousands of years. It spurs exploration. It takes you places you’d never go (in my case, an industrial park outside Helsinki or a former collective farm north of Moscow).

Moreover, knowing more about beer promotes thinking alongside drinking. You’ll find yourselves wanting to protect the best that beer can be from those interested only in turning a buck. It turns out that the Alström Brothers were correct, from the very start, when they wrote the words “Respect Beer.”

Hence TEN20’s equally respectful (and timely) reminder that fresh, local, better beer can be both flavorful and drinkable.

Actually I believe that the majority of area breweries have offerings fitting this description, and in fact always have. However, it may have occurred to us at some point during our lives that one critical aspect of being a teacher is the ability to teach the very same lesson over and over again to each new generation of incoming students who’ve yet to hear it — and desperately need to be taught.

In conclusion, just tell me that lovely Schnitzelburger Vienna-style lager is still pouring at TEN20, and we’re good. Meanwhile, in Butchertown …

The text:

Welcome Amelia and Sue! We’re excited to introduce the newest members of our TEN20 team. With a combined 25 years of brewing experience, Amelia and Sue bring incredible talent and creativity to our brewery. They’re already brewing up some amazing beers, and we can’t wait for you to taste what they’ve been working on. Stop by and say hi.  🍺👏

Note: Sue and Amelia are part of the teams at both Shippingport and TEN20. They’re continuing to share their amazing talents across both breweries, so you can catch them at either place! Thanks for supporting these incredible women and the local beer scene!

For the sake of clarification, a question was asked in the comments: “Does Ten20 now own Shippingport, or Shippingport own Ten20?”

The answer: “Separately owned.” This example of brewhouse cooperation has been underway for a good while, and is likely to have been codified. It strikes me as a win-win. Next up: Monnik.