50 States of Beers, #1: Vermont
Note: 50 States, 50 Beers. This is my project for 2021: one beer from every state in the Union. That sounds simple, right?
I love Vermont. I love everything about it. In fact, it’s probably my favorite state. I have a lot of ties there; my uncle ran hotels in and around White River Junction, so we spent most of our vacations growing up at the spots he managed, exploring Quechee Gorge and King Arthur Flour and downtown Burlington and Waterbury and all of those lush green places in between. My grandmother is from outside St. Johnsbury in way up there Vermont. She grew up on a farm speaking French with her father, a friendly little man (I knew him a little growing up) who smoked a pipe, drank a shot of vodka every morning, and once went to jail for storing Canadian whiskey in his barn during prohibition.
So, the Green Mountain state is in my blood, a little trickle of real maple syrup along with all the other places I’ve lived in. In my mind, it’s a paradise full of verdant hills and trees and craft beer and sharp cheddar cheese and happy, lazy old hippie figures lounging around selling mittens to Bernie Sanders (I voted for him in the 2020 primary too).
Why not start there with this project — and why not start with the best of the best?
The Alchemist’s Heady Topper is the first entry in this series, and everything is downhill from here. There’s something mythic about this beer; every time you open one, there’s a sense of history with it — you get a sense that what you’re having is bigger than just a sip of an IPA. On the surface, the taste and feel of the Heady Topper are merely magnificent: perfectly balanced, earthy, welcoming, and warm, with just the right amount of alcohol and a lingering sense of golden perfection on the tongue. Just magnificence.
It’s when you dive deeper and think about everything about this beer…that’s when it becomes transcendent. The story of this beer is near-legend now. Created as a draught in a small pub in Waterbury and whipped up into a frenzy by locals and craft beer freaks — so much so that they bring their own bottles into the pub, sneaking out glass after glass in illicit bathroom visits. A first initial canning run disrupted when the pub gets destroyed by Hurricane Irene. Years afterward, when it’s whispered about in awed tones throughout New England and by craft beer lovers everywhere, built up to that legend status by extreme scarcity and rumor and adoration, catching the modern IPA wave at just the right time.
Knowing about it then was like being in a secret little club — I’d imagine it’s like what Qanon followers think, except, you know, grounded in reality and happiness rather than paranoia and destruction. If someone had it — maybe after a trip up to Burlington, or through some familial collection deep in the Northern Kingdom — at a party or a football Sunday, they might be generous and dole out one of those silver cans or two, and then suddenly they were Immortan Joe, and you were those grateful people getting drenched by his generosity.
It was special then, and it’s just as special now, now that The Alchemist has their own (very lovely) massive brewery in Stowe, and that there are occasional drop-offs here in Massachusetts, and it’s available on a semi-regular basis. Availability doesn’t destroy the myth or blow up the legend — it just enhances it. That’s what happens when it’s real.
Rating: 100/100
OTHER RANDOM VERMONT CATEGORIES
Why is the state flag that way?
Well, the pine tree is for all of the Vermont forests, the cow’s for all of that sweet, sweet dairy the place produces (GIVE ME ALL THE CABOT CHEDDAR), the wheat for the state’s industry, and the Green Mountains are, uh, the Green Mountains. “Freedom and Unity” is the state’s motto. Individual freedom and the common good. Gee, that sounds like a good motto for everyone to adopt, huh?
Tell me about a political scandal or event from the state.
Hmm. Well, Vermont seems pretty chill. Funny thing about it — the state has a (deserved) reputation as a VERY liberal place, but it’s got that modern New England trademark of having a centrist/left-wing Republican as governor (Phil Scott) while still being super-deep blue. Him and Charlie Baker should start a band or something.
Aside from that, their senators are Bernie Sanders (who probably should have had the nomination in 2016 and definitely could have won) and Pat Leahy, who keeps popping up in Batman movies. So that’s cool.
Here’s a Big Goddamn Political Deal from Vermont: the Jim Jeffords switch all the way back in 2001. In brief: after the 2000 elections, the Senate was 50–50 all, with the VP (then, future face-shooter Dick Cheney) breaking any tie in the Senate. Harry Reid, the then-Senate Democratic leader (and, honestly, the last really savvy Democratic Senator), convinced Jeffords, a Republican disappointed with the early Bush presidency, to flip to the Democratic side. That got them a precarious one-vote majority for year and a half until the Republicans took back a slim majority. For the sake of us all, let’s hope Joe Manchin doesn’t get any goddamn ideas.
How about a sports star from Vermont?
There’s only one choice here — my fellow French-Canadian John LeClair, who scored over 400 goals for the Flyers, Canadiens, and Penguins in the NHL. He’s from St. Albans, which is waaaaay up in Vermont by the Canadian border and has a lot of food covered in syrup and/or cheddar cheese. It’s the best.
Anything else I should know?
Yes! If you eat at The Farmhouse in Burlington, get the meatloaf. Trust me.
NEXT WEEK: Montana. (Seriously)
