It’s an oddly macabre hobby of mine to review beers from breweries that are gone. I have such a bottle that I’ll be saving for Halloween Night, but in the meantime, I have a few cans from the recently departed Concrete Beach Brewery in Miami.
And before someone attacks me with the realities of the situation, don’t bother. I know them all too well, I know what’s going on, relax.
I have to admit, Dangerous Minds threw me for a bit of a loop.
I’ve never been to a brewery in Florida where I had to ask myself if I’m still in Florida. It’s located in Pompano Citi Centre, which is a very standard, new style of open-air shopping plaza. That did nothing to explain the honest-to-goodness biplane that was flying overhead as I was walking up to Dangerous Minds. It also served as a rather bizarre entry into the German and British flags very clearly adorning the windows next to the main entrance.
The one thing I am jealous about those living in the Florida panhandle is their relative proximity to New Orleans. I am sure the Mardi Gras festivities spill over into the neighboring states, bounding across the bayou, through the short jaunt of coastal Mississippi and Alabama, and over into the Pensacola area.
At least that’s the way I saw it happening when Big Beach Brewing left their home in Gulf Shores, Alabama and partnered with 3rd Planet Brewing in Niceville, FL to create the oil can of gooey thickness that is Pastry Throws (Stout, 9% ABV, 25 IBU).
Of all the beers in the Halfway There series from Tampa Bay Beer Week, this one should have been pre-packaged with a cigar on its own. It was also the beer I was most dreading.
Full disclosure, I am not a hophead. I appreciate them, and I understand what they are and can discern the finer points of excellent hop usage, but I do not actively seek overly bitter, dank experiences from my beers of choices.
Sit down, kids, for today we spin a yarn about Old Joe.
Old Joe was an alligator. A big one, about 650 lbs. and just past 11 feet long. No one knows how old he was, but some storytellers put it past 300. He was discovered in the mid-1930’s by workers building the Wakulla Springs Lodge, a quaint resort in Wakulla Springs State Park, located south of Tallahassee.
It’s almost comical how many Florida breweries set up shop within former automotive repair garages. Think about it, there’s plenty of space, drainage has already been installed, and they have those wonderful bay doors to open up on cool days.
Sometimes the garage also comes with a name that was a part of the community so much that it maintains a life after the business itself has passed on. Such was the case with Harold’s, opened in 1965 on the corner of 1st and 20th in downtown St. Pete.
Someday soon I shall learn to peel and cut a mango getting the absolute most fruit off that annoying seed as I possibly can. It’s just impossible sometimes.
And I love mango. My whole family does. And you can pick them right off the trees down here in South Florida. You shouldn’t, since that is most likely going to be tresspassing, but you can.
Signature beers are a funny thing. Sure, they are obviously tied to the brewery that gave birth to them, but some become so beloved that their creators are forever branded by the beers they created, even after they have left those breweries.
