I was tempted to type the headline, add (eom) and see what happened . . .

I understand the concept of nano brewery (or nanobrewery). But if we are going to have a rule about when a brewery is too big to be called micro shouldn’t there be one for nano?

I ask because the Green Dragon in Portland, Ore., is sponsoring its second Nano Beer Festival next week — “25+ nano breweries and food from Portland’s food cart scene.” Referred to as Nano Food Carts (a nice touch) on this poster.

If you give the poster a good look you’ll notice Upright among the breweries. We visited Upright last year and there’s a 10-barrel brewhouse at the heart of that system. The guys at Berkshire Brewing in Massachusetts cranked out 6,000 barrels one year on their seven-barrel system. Granted, they had to be crazy, and microbrewery has been defined on the basis of production rather than size of each batch, but nano generally refers to something very, or even extremely, small.

A nanosecond is a billionth of a second. Feel free to check my math (because it is probably wrong), but the amounts get too small if we try this with billionths. Start with a 700-barrel brewhouse — mega breweries make even bigger batches but consider of the Anheuser-Busch plant outside of Fort Collins, Colo., which is gigantic. Divide 700 by 1,000,000, then multiply by 31 (that’s how many gallons are in a barrel). Multiply that by 128 (ounces in gallon) and we’re at a batch size of less than 3 ounces. That’s a millionth of 700 barrels. Divide that by 1,000 for a billionth.

Screw it. Let’s just call them craft breweries. Much more concise.

The Christian Science Monitor’s feature “5 famous pork projects: Beer museum and more” includes, as you might have guessed, funding for the National Brewery Museum in Potosi, Wis.

In 2004, The Potosi Brewery Complex restoration project received a $449,574 grant from the Federal Highway Administration’s National Scenic Byways Program to help renovate the building in order to attract tourism. Straddling the Mississippi River in Wisconsin, the renovated brewery became home to the National Brewery Museum, the Potosi Brewing Company Transportation Museum, a Great River Road Interpretive Center, and a micro brewery.

I don’t understand why this is a bad thing. As far as government projects go a half million dollars isn’t much. Efforts to create a national museum have failed elsewhere. Beyond the fact the museum houses rotating exhibits of items on loan from members of the American Breweriana Association there’s the Research Library. What could be more important?

A few photos from when we visited a couple of years ago:

So MillerCoors has launched a separate company to manage its portfolio of (existential warning) craft beers and imports, calling it “Tenth and Blake Beer Company.”

Is this different than what America’s megabreweries breweries tried in the mid 1990s? On the surface, but maybe not that different. Will Tenth & Blake prove more successful? We’d be guessing, wouldn’t we? Before you do, consider a bit of history.

1995. “We are behind the curve, no question about it. We need to learn about specialty beer,” Scott Barnum, then general manager of Miller American Specialty Craft Beer Co., told All About Beer magazine. That’s the year that Miller bought a stake in the Celis Brewery and Shipyard Brewing. Leinenkugel and Miller Reserve were the other key brands in the ASCBC portfolio. “We have people in here helping us train our palates and our noses, working with our sensory development. We listen to guys tell us how they built their microbrewing businesses, about investment, capital. We talk to entrepreneurs. We are immersing ourselves in this world.”

Anheuser-Busch formed what it called the Specialty Group of Anheuser-Busch. “We are trying to think differently,” said Jeff Jones, who was senior product manager for the group. “That’s the whole thought process of the specialty beer business. I do have a passion for beer. We have to think differently from a large brewer, and that was the purpose for separating out our group.”

Coors established its own specialty group, Unibev, much earlier than the others, and in 1995 its star was Killian’s. The year before bock, Oktoberfest and wheat beers all flunked various trials. However, Unibev managing director Tex McCarthy said that a new brand, Blue Moon, wouldn’t carry the Coors name. “We want them to be disassociated from the Coors family. . . . If people see a major brewer’s name on a micro it loses some of the cachet that makes the beer interesting to begin with.”

You know the rest. It didn’t happen over night and it didn’t happen because Coors threw a bunch of advertising money behind the brand but Blue Moon Belgian White became the best selling wheat beer in America ever.

1997. Miller remained focused on working with regional partners rather than brewing specialty beers (the Reserve line had been axed by then). “We’ve said before that this is a regional business,” Barnum said. “More and more, you will see people contracting, narrowing their focus.”

That didn’t exactly work out. Miller ended up buying out Pierre Celis and his family and by 2000 had closed the Celis Brewery. Miller sold its stake in Shipyard back to Alan Pugsley and Fred Forsley and that company has thrived.

Forsley explained what happened a few years after he and Pugsley regained full control of their brewery: “I think initially the plan was well conceived, where Miller was focusing on portfolio selling. The whole Miller network was designed so their sales force could come in and sell their whole portfolio of beer. American Specialty Craft Beer had a relationship on the sales side with Molson, the imports, Asahi, and so on. That way a salesman was responsible not only for Shipyard but Molson. They had a variety of resources to pull from. When it changed from being a portfolio sale to a priority sale, as acknowledged by everybody in the organization, the goal became to make Miller’s main brands their focus. That really caused major problems for us. Up until then the sales efforts were working very well.”

A press release from MillerCoors indicates Tenth & Blake “will own the strategic business drivers — marketing, trade marketing and an independent sales organization dedicated to the craft and imports business.” That’s the something different. But it’s not all it takes.

“We didn’t really fit into the Coors distribution system until about five years ago,” Keith Villa, who wrote the recipe for Blue Moon White, said last year when I visited Coors while doing the research for Brewing with Wheat. A sales force is not what made that beer. Many readers here feel obliged to beat up on Blue Moon White, and yes it has became hip, a badge even. But Villa put a beer in the glass that drinkers who are willing to pay more want to drink.

Fifteen years, and more, after the people working at the nation’s largest breweries said they were ready to think like smaller breweries how many successes similar to Blue Moon can you point to? Maybe it’s not a matter of training. Maybe it’s company DNA.

A couple of times recently I’ve read stories — or, yikes, tweets — that mentioned how many brewing companies remained in operation in the United States in the 1970s and 1980s, then reported the current number of breweries. That’s not exactly apples to apples. Many brewing concerns operate multiple breweries, and the proper comparison would be breweries to breweries and concerns to concerns.

So, for the record, here are a few useful numbers to remember.

The boom years for breweries
(From History of the Brewing Industry and Brewing Science in America, by John P. Arnold and Frank Penman)

The number of breweries never reached the 1878 level again, drifting below 2,000 by 1892 and to 1,092 in 1918, the year before Prohibition began. However, overall production went straight up , to 20,710,933 in 1886, to 30,487,209 five years later, passing 40 million barrels in 1901, 54 million in 1906 and 63 million by 1911.

Many of those breweries operating in 1878 were quite small. BEER, Its History And Its Economic Value As A National Beverage, by F.W. Salem, provides a complete list of production numbers for 1878 and 1879. Thus we can see that G. P. Pfannebecker in Paterson, N.J., brewed 48 barrels in 1878 and 152 in 1879. The biggest dozen breweries in 1879 where:

Before the renaissance
(From American Breweries II by Dale P. Van Wieren)

1983 - 51 brewing concerns operate 80 breweries. This is the low water mark for number of breweries.
1984 - 44 brewing concerns operate 83 breweries.

19th century startup
(As long as I’m digging through history books, some facts from 100 Years of Brewing, published in 1903)

More than 100 years before Sierra Nevada launched in California, Adolphus Busch bought an interest in a St. Louis brewery owned by Eberhard Anheuser. A brewery had been operating at the same location for 15 years, yet in 1865 sold a modest 8,000 barrels. By the time the name was changed to Anheuser-Busch Brewing Association in 1875 annual production has risen to 34,797.

In the next 10 years production increased by 10%, 48%, 32%, 41%, 34%, 42%, 22%, 22%, and 5% before falling 1% to reach 318,085 barrels. Sixteen years later sales passed 1 million for the first time.

That year, 1901, the plant covered about 60 acres and as well as a brewhouse that could produce 6,000 barrels a day, it had ice plants with 650 tons daily capacity, malt houses with 4,500 bushels daily capacity, a cooling capacity of 2,650 tons per day, storage elevators for malt and barley of 1.25 million bushels capacity, stock houses for lagering purposes of 400,000 barrels capacity, and a power plant with 60,000 square feet of heating surface (equal to 7,750 horse power).

Or beer and roots music.

Or beer and alt.country (“whatever that is,” at the late, great No Depression magazine said on its cove).

Truth is we like wine in our family. We like all manner of jazz. Still I was surprised to see Wine and Jazz magazine today at the book store. Turns out it has been around a couple of years, and the tagline says, “Celebrating the Perfect Lifestyle Combination.”

Right.

At the risk of turning this beer and wine category into beer versus wine I do have to point out they feature “blogologists” rather than bloggers. Rest assured, if I ever start Craft Beer & Alt.Country magazine (the tagline would be “An existential debate with every sip or every chord”) we’ll employ bloggers.

One final thought. Thank goodness that North Coast Brewing has staked out Thelonious Monk for all of us.

So the story behind the taster tray and the Bent Nail IPA at Red Lodge Ales in the Montana town of the same name is the same.

The beer was named as a tribute to the construction workers who were among the brewery’s first customers. “They said it (the beer) made for a lot of bent nails,” a bartender explained. It’s a solid beer, nicely balanced, worthy of the bronze medal it won at the 2007 Great American Beer Festival (as an American-style Strong Pale Ale).

The handle for the taster tray features the same bent nail. Easy to carry and nicely decorated. Customers use the green sheet, on the left, to order, writing numbers next to the beer name on the laminated menu with a grease pencil. Very efficient.

Broken Nail Double IPA was not available when we visited. My nephew, whose wedding we headed north to attend, assures me it’s worth returning for. We must may.

In the front matter of his new book, Great American Craft Beer: A Guide to the Nation’s Finest Beers and Breweries, Andy Crouch revisits the never-ending discussion about “What the heck is craft beer anyway?” If you’ve followed this online, including at Crouch’s blog, this won’t be new.

That he notes it is (at least in part) an “existential debate” seems relevant to a guest post this week at WashingtonCityPaper.com. Greg Engert, the beer director for the Neighborhood Restaurant Group, which includes ChurchKey and Birch & Barley, writes that “Craft Brewing Faces an Identity Crisis.”

The debates that continue to arise as to what craft brewing is are inevitable and often interesting. What I find more interesting is the need for craft beer drinkers, myself included, to pin this down, to specifically signify when identifying something as craft-brewed. And these debates always seem to intensify in the face of further complexity, as if craft beer drinkers need to maintain a sort of ownership and authority over a product that is becoming harder and harder to identify by definition. Perhaps even more importantly, the industry is becoming more complex and more difficult to understand and define just as it is also becoming more popular and—dare I say it?—mainstream.

Engert concludes, “In the end, debates about what craft beer is may in actuality be a burgeoning debate about who craft beer may be.”

Existentialists, have at it.

Derrick Peterman has posted the roundup for The Session #42.

Once again, the beer blogosphere provided many unique, memorable personal perspectives, this time, about how beer connects us to places. In many cases, the “special” beers associated with special places where rather ordinary, even substandard, as most posters readily acknowledged. And as I anticipated, “place” clearly meant different things to different people.

This seemed like an excellent topic to me, but only a dozen bloggers chimed in with contributions. Perhaps we should blame the summer doldrums. However it’s also fair to consider if the beer blogosphere has “moved on.”

Beer blogging certainly is alive and well. Look at the number of attendees for the first Beer Bloggers Conference (first in the U.S., that is, since the initial international gathering will occur earlier in Prague).

Anyway, it wouldn’t be shocking if The Session has run its course. After all, it looks as if the separate site created for Wine Blogging Wednesday has not been updated more than a year ago, although it would seem the project continued until at least the most recent May.

Just an observation . . .

For the 42nd gathering of The Session Derrick Peterman asks we write about “A Special Place, A Special Beer.” Visit his blog for a recap of all the posts.

I told this story in Brew Like a Monk. This is the condensed version.

Inside the brewery café at the monastery of the Saint Benedictus Abbey of Achel, only a single food server and one monk putting items on his cafeteria tray remained when Marc Beirens opened the door and stepped into a chilly December evening.

Beirens, a businessman who has been visiting monasteries since he was a child, took a few strides into a terrace area that was once the abbey’s courtyard. As the sky above turned from dark blue to black, he nodded back toward the brewery, located in a space that once housed the monastery dairy, then to a new gallery and gift shop to his right. Those buildings held pigs and more cattle, before it became obvious agriculture would not sustain the community.

“You should have seen this all a few years ago,” he said, his voice bouncing lightly about an otherwise silent courtyard.

*****

During the next few hours Beirens and Brother Benedict, the monk in charge of marketing when I visited in December of 2004 gave me a complete tour of the monastery and its small brewery. Always a good host, Brother Benedict insisted I try the beers.

Staring with Extra, a substantial 9.5% beauty served from a 750ml bottle. He didn’t drink himself, talking a little business with Beirens, answering my questions about the monastery, and excusing himself after his cell phone rang. He returned a little later. “This is the same bottle?” he asked, knowing the answer was yes. “You don’t like the beer.” He laughed mightily.

He ordered we have another, then headed off again. Both Beirens and I ordered the Achel 5, a blonde beer of 5.3% abv, and compared it to the 5% abv Westmalle Extra. When Brother Benedict returned, he looked at our blonde beers, working on a scowl. He took a sip of one. “Water,” he said, once again laughing.

*****

Beirens appreciates the importance of commerce to the monasteries, and that the six Trappist breweries are part of a larger family. He distributes a range of monastic products ? beer is the best selling, but they include cookies, soap, vegetables, wine, and other goods ? throughout Belgium and France. His father did the same. “I’ve been visiting monasteries since I was this high,” he said earlier, holding his hand below his waist. That’s why he understands something else about monasteries.

It was dark now, and the courtyard empty.

“I love the silence,” Beirens said. “I used to have a friend who was a monk. He’s gone now.”

We walked along in silence.

“When he was 80 or so, I’d still call him. If I had a problem I could go see him. He didn’t have to say anything and I’d feel better.

“All it took was silence.”

The bathrooms at Sam’s Tap Room and Kitchen, which is the tap room for Red Lodge Ales Brewing Co. in the Montana town of Red Lodge, has glass holders like this one in both the men’s and women’s bathrooms.

The holders — set beside the toilets, the urinals and the sink — hold both large and small glasses. I don’t usually carry my glass with me into the bathroom, but it appears some people do.

Red Lodge Ales has the largest solar thermal array in the state of Montana up on the roof. That warms water to heat the brewery in winter (radiant floors) provides warm process water in the summer. The beer garden faces the mountains and hops plants decorate the garden walls (in season).

Did I mention the sampler trays are cool? They are. None of these delightful amenities would matter, of course, if the beer weren’t pretty damn good. It is.