Hey beer drinkers, let's take a quick walk down memory lane. I want you to think back to the very first beer you ever tried. Do you remember what it was? I'm willing to bet that, not only do you remember your first beer, you remember it because you thought it was terrible. It's okay, no one gets it right the first time.
For me, the first ever was a Corona; it was during the summer before my first year of high school, when a couple of friends and I had decided to camp out in the woods behind their neighborhood, away from the prying eyes of our parents. Sure, I was young but that early exposure probably served me well - I found the taste of Corona so repulsive that it turned me off from drinking for the next four years (to this day I still can't stomach that stuff). But to give credit where it's due, it was the best my buddy could swipe from his dad on short notice, so we made the best of it. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.
Now, think back to the first beer you actually enjoyed. That one might be a bit harder. Maybe the taste of beer just grew on you though the sheer power of perseverance (or, you know, peer pressure, whatever). But maybe, if you're like me, you tried a beer one day that went down so smooth and effortless, you thought "Hey, I could get used to this." From then on, that was your gateway beer - the one that opened your eyes and made you realize that a good beer doesn't have to be like sex in a canoe - fucking close to water.
It wasn't until sometime freshman year that I decided to give beer another shot. Not only did I suddenly have access to a veritable cornucopia of booze via my of-age friends but, also, and here's the important part, these people knew the good stuff from the bad (no offense to Zack's dad). It was during that time that someone introduced me to Yuengling and I had my "Hey, I could get used to this" moment. Since then, Yuengling beers have accompanied me hand-in-can through many a revelrous evening during my formative adult years. Why, even during this trip, I have more than a few fond memories of reconnecting with old friends and acting a fool over a case of Yuenglings.
After their kids have gone to bed, of course.
(Source: The author's own)
This post is about a pilgrimage, of sorts, though I'm not sure if it's possible to describe a trip as such when you only decided to do it the night before. Joining me for this unexpected adventure was my friend Kyle, who had spontaneously decided to tag along on my trip for a couple of weeks following a few days visiting mutual friends in Baltimore. Kyle, too, shares my nostalgic affinity for Yuengling (it was his first favorable beer experience as well), which is why his face lit up with disbelief when I told him that, though sheer coincidence, we would be spending the night in the next town over from Pottsville, Pennsylvania - the original home of D.G. Yuengling & Son, the oldest brewery in the country.
With the driving snow still accumulating on the streets around us, we bounced though hidden potholes as we climbed Mahantongo Street toward a red brick building with the words D.G. Yuengling & Son painted across the facade in a vintage font.
(Source: The author's own)
Unsure of where entrance was, I parked at the curb, pulled on my layers and hopped out to investigate. A woman who looked to be in her late thirties stood on the sidewalk, beating a floor mat emblazoned with the Yuengling logo against the wall, sending forth puffs of dust and de-icing salt that swirled down the sidewalk, mixing with the falling snow.
"Hi there, you guys open today?" I asked, trying to dodge the debris clouds.
"We're bottling but no tours today, I'm afraid. Too much ice on the roads up behind the building there. Plus, I can't imagine anyone's going to show up today." She motioned to a second building behind me. "That's our gift shop over there - we're not open yet but y'uns are welcome to come in out of the cold.
I waved to Kyle who had been watching from the warmth of the truck and walked across the street into the gift shop. True to her word, the shop's warmth washed over me, along with the scent of malt and new t-shirts. We poked around for a while, figuring that we might as well buy a souvenir or two since we were already there. As we browsed, a second employee, a woman who later introduced herself as Stacey, shouted at us from across the shop with a wonderfully aggressive Pennsylvania accent.
"So where y'uns frohm? Tennahsee, eh? Ya drove all tha way from Tennahsee to see us? Well shuah, we oughta be able to give ya a quick touh - ya obviously dohn mind thah cold."
Kyle and I looked at each other and grinned - it seemed we might not be out of luck after all.
A tour of the brewery requires a lot of ducking. "People were shorter back then," Stacey explained.
(Source: The author's own)
Puling a bobble-topped knit cap over her amber brown hair, Stacey motioned for us to follow her across the street and into the lowest level of the red brick building. Inside, I felt as though I'd walked into a dungeon - dimly lit, with thick, damp air. What stuck me immediately is how very different this felt from the other brewery tours I'd experienced in the past. Modern craft breweries tend to occupy large warehouse-type facilities where space is plentiful; to be honest, I'd say if you've seen one craft brewery, you've seen them all. At Yuengling, they've had to continuously adapt their building to accommodate almost two hundred years of growing demand and changing technology, creating areas within the building that seem impractically dense and maze-like, while others lie virtually abandoned.
Arguably the most fascinating remnant from the brewery's early days are a series of hand-dug tunnels that extend several hundred feet back into the bedrock behind the building. Still bearing the scars of pick-axes, these dark, humid tunnels once provided the perfect atmosphere for aging the massive casks of beer.
(Source: The author's own)
During Prohibition, owner Frank Yuengling purchased a second building across the street from the brewery (now the gift shop) and converted it into a dairy to help support the family business ("A lot of the equipment used to make beer also worked for ice cream," Stacey explained). As a result, while other breweries around the country folded from a lack of adaptability, Yuengling survived without laying off a single employee.
Stacey spoke enthusiastically about the early days of Yuengling's history, answering our questions with a candor that seemed unlike what a typical tour group would've heard. She had quickly picked up on the irreverent sense of humor shared by her two-member audience, so our "brief tour" evolved into more of a conversation, colored by the foul-mouthed, dry sense of humor we all apparently shared. Stacey was clearly used to being one of the guys; working in a brewery, I imagine you'd have to be.
Next, she led us upstairs through tight, winding corridors to see the production floor. Here was all the typical equpment you think of when you picture a brewery tour - the mash tuns, wort chillers, fermentation tanks, etc...
(Source: The author's own)
...as well as a few unconventional additions, such as historic murals and stained glass ceilings ("To keep da sun out of da brewuhs' eyes while they worked," Stacey explained).
(Source: The author's own)
We followed her downstairs and out through a door into the back alley, carefully navigating the ice-caked street to another building - the bottling facility. Here, she spoke with as much of a shout as she could muster, explaining the final stages of the production process over the rapid clattering of cans and bottles zooming back and forth across a large room.
(Source: The author's own)
With the tour coming to its end, we followed Stacey back to the gift shop. Through sheer luck, the current owner, Dick Yuengling, happened to be there chatting with some of the shop employees. Stacey pulled him aside and introduced us as "the Tennessee boys." Gruff but personable, he spoke with us for a bit, asking about our trip and thanking us for braving the snow to come see them.
"Do ya whant a pictuah with him? Go on, of couhse ya do!" Stacey urged.
"OH MY GOD HE TOUCHED MY SHOULDER!"
(Source: The author's own)
Finally, like any brewery tour worth its wait in malt, we joined Stacey in the tasting room for samples. I opted for the Yuengling Premium, a brew only available in Pennsylvania, and the Lord Chesterfield Ale, one of the brewery's earliest varieties. I could tell by the grin on Kyle's face that he was feeling pretty good about his decision to extend his trip with me.
"Oh we're just getting started buddy. Here's to even more unexpected adventures," I told him, clinking my glass against his. "Drink up - our next stop is New Jersey."
CWO