Thursday, November 28, 2013

From Honey Creme to Vietnam Kitchen on Thanksgiving, 2013.

Scrumptious and delicious -- not to mention the donuts.

Unfazed following yesterday's pecan pie purchase at Sweet Stuff, located a few blocks from our house toward the city center, me and the missus strolled ten minutes this morning in the opposite direction, down to another New Albany institution, so as to begin the holiday with style and sugar

Honey Creme is so delightfully old-school that you feel guilty washing down their goodies with espresso. But I didn't have Folger's around the house. Next comes the yearly ritual and family tradition.

We've been doing Vietnamese for Thanksgiving for as long as we've known each other, and I've no need for the elaborate Thanksgiving meal of childhood.

But let's be pragmatic for a change.

If you'll be coming by the Public House on Friday for Saturnalia MMXIII, and JUST BY SHEER UNFETTERED COINCIDENCE you happen to have leftover turkey for sandwiches on your person and are willing to allow me to MAKE OFF WITH JUST A LITTLE BIT of it, well, it is QUITE LIKELY that a nice beer may find its way into your hands. Just saying. Not that I really need turkey, or anything. You know.

Needless to say, both NABC locations are closed today; we'll be open on Friday, November 29 for usual business hours. Be careful out there, and enjoy your adult libations responsibly.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Psst ... your subjectivity is showing, and I note this fact purely objectively.

Earlier this week, I was involved in a beer discussion thread at Facebook, and it proved to be quite good. Agreement may have been elusive, but that’s what makes the game worth the flame. The worst aspect of it is that we’re having the conversation electronically, and not in a comfortable pub with good beer, snacks and a convivial atmosphere.

One thought emerging from the chat, at least in my saturated noggin, is that there isn’t any such thing as a “monolithic” craft beer culture. Once upon a time, perhaps there was. Now there are several craft beer cultures, and while they have components in common, the respective spheres don’t entirely overlap. It strikes me that these respective craft beer cultures boast differing root or principal values, contributing to elaborate belief systems undeniably pursuing better beer, but disagreeing on what the pursuit of better beer actually entails.

Some values are physiologically determined and are normally considered objective, such as a desire to avoid physical pain or to seek pleasure. Other values are considered subjective, vary across individuals and cultures, and are in many ways aligned with belief and belief systems.

The following cultures are not intended as exhaustive, but as a basis for further exploration.

A homebrewer/craft culture that principally values being able to analyze, recreate and “brew it yourself.”

A trader/swapper culture that principally values the mechanics of the chase and the joy of collecting.

A ratings/priestly culture that principally values the presumed exactitude and objectivity of language in quantifying pleasure, and wielding it subjectively like a tire iron.

A localist culture that principally values the personal, grassroots experience of places and people.

Specifically, at some point in the earlier thread, it was said that beer from the Louisville area isn’t of sufficient quality because it tends not to interest traders in other places, and consequently, if we brewers are interested in building a more valuable locally-brewed culture, we’d be wise to borrow whatever tricks are wielded by breweries elsewhere, because these methods obviously have higher value, seeing as they generate more interest among the network of traders.

I see this as the tail launching the dog into outer space.

To my knowledge, every local Louisville area brewery does a thriving trade at its own tap room or restaurant, and when I drink locally brewed beers in these venues, they generally taste perfectly good to me. I’m not a rube, and I’ve been doing this for three decades. So, what (and where) is the disconnection?

Is it that folks going to brewpubs and enjoying fresh local beer are incapable of proper value judgments – or else they wouldn’t be drinking beer of inferior quality? Or, is it because the attributes principally valued by trading and swapping reflect a different value system than the typical localist’s? Are their different belief systems at play?

Verily, fascination with the far-off is as old as humanity. In his book, Tastes of Paradise, the social historian Wolfgang Schivelbusch reminds us that when the spice trade commenced in Europe several hundred years ago, the “need” to obtain spices from the Orient was far less about their supposed usefulness in masking rancid food, as is often imagined nowadays, but because the spices themselves were quantifiable measures of status according to the prevailing values of the age.

In essence, back then, anyone who was anyone just had to have these spices – or, risk not being anyone, any longer. Possession of Oriental spices was a symbol of status, and key to their value was the basic fact that these spices were from somewhere else – exotic, expensive and hard to obtain, and therefore infinitely sexier than the local norm. It wasn’t necessary to explain it. It was understood, and the peasants knew full well that status was conferred on those in possession of the requisite symbolism.

All this is well and good, but what I’m prepared to argue is that nothing about any of this can be termed objective, as insisted oft times during the thread. In fact, what I'm coming to question is whether there is any such objective reality in these considerations, and how truly objective it might possibly be, when from the very start the trader/collector (and often, the beer “geek”) offers as "objectivity" a set of prerequisites clearly influenced by rampant subjectivity.

In short, once the cultural subdivision or label (as above) has been imbued with a value system and embraced, don’t the adherents begin playing to their respective and subjective value systems? After all, once one becomes part of a club, one starts obeying the club's directives. If one can merely flash an image of a sought-after beer and induce salivating on the part of the audience, without once being obliged to explain or provide greater depth of insight as to why the viewer should be salivating, haven’t we passed joltingly from the realm of better beer into the laboratory of Pavlov’s canine?

I don’t have all the answers. But the questions are quite entertaining, and the entertainment value is immeasurably enhanced by vitriol … and squirming.

Friday, November 22, 2013

NABC believes in Naughty Claus. We don't believe in Black Friday.

NABC will be very busy on Thanksgiving weekend, 2013, though not on the holiday itself. Thanksgiving Day is on Thursday, November 28, and both NABC locations will be closed. On Friday, the beer schedule explodes.

Plaid Friday is on Friday, November 29. At NABC's Pizzeria & Public House, this is the day when Saturnalia Winter Solstice draft fest begins ... and it's the 10th anniversary edition.

Jingle Walk and HolidayFest (Downtown New Albany) takes place during the afternoon on Saturday, November 30. We'll be dispensing samples of Naughty Claus, Tunnel Vision and other NABC favorites on the premises of Keg Liquors.

Later on Saturday evening,  The Nifty $50 Art Show is happening at the Art Store in downtown New Albany. There'll be art, musical entertainment and NABC's Elector and Houndmouth on draft.

Meanwhile, New Albany's favorite band Houndmouth plays Headliners Music Hall in Louisville on the 29th and the 30th (both shows are sold out as of this writing), and by special arrangement, NABC Houndmouth will be available on tap at the venue, which customarily doesn't serve draft beer.

This brings us to 10:00 a.m. on the morning of Sunday, December 1, as Bank Street Brewhouse begins its Sunday Brewhouse Brunch, with our ever-popular build-your-own Bloody Mary Bar, food, and carry-out growlers all day long. Not exactly a nightcap ... although perhaps a brunch-cap after a prolific weekend.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

The PC: From Bier Brewery to Cumberland Brews, but not neglecting Plaid Friday.

(Published at on November 15, 2013)


The PC: From Bier Brewery to Cumberland Brews, but not neglecting Plaid Friday.

My eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing, right there on the Twitter feed.
Could it really be?
Up in Indianapolis at the Mass Avenue Pub – a fine, craft-friendly downtown bar in an emerging food, drink and cultural corridor – there was going to be a tap takeover, and the beers projected to flood the pub’s draft lines were coming from Bier Brewery.
Surely this was a misprint.
After all, Bier Brewery is not located in San Diego, Boulder, Kalamazoo, Atlanta or Bend (Oregon). How could they get away with THAT? If beer appreciation these days is all about location/further location/furthest location, then it stands to reason that Bier Brewery’s home in Indianapolis, just a few miles away from Mass Avenue Pub, would preclude it from being embraced by an Indy pub. The narcissists wouldn’t stand for it. Where was the chic, the aura … the sheer distance?
There had to be a catch.
Pondering the enigma as I cuddled up to a Sun King Sunlight Cream Ale, daringly decanted straight from the can into my favorite dimpled mug, I imagined a conversation with Mass Avenue Pub’s management.
Roger: Really? You’re emphasizing local Indianapolis-brewed beers … in Indianapolis? The end times must be upon us.
Mass Avenue Pub: What’s so unusual about that? We have lots of great breweries here in Indianapolis.
R: I dunno. They’re only great when you’re somewhere else, right? Does Bier Brewery have good enough scores on RateAdvocate?
MAP: Beats me. I never look at RateAdvocate. Bier Brewery is top quality and caring folks, and we’re just trying to support local beer.
R: Okay, but how can a joint be local if the beers aren’t sourced from a gypsy brewer utilizing multiple locations in the European Union, and then sending them to America by means of an equation pegging IBUs to an inverse carbon footprint?
MAP: Gypsy? That’s funny. We have a bunch of tattooed brewers in town, but no gypsies I’m aware of. We support other beers from all over, too, but Bier Brewery brews right here – and local breweries are what makes Indy such a wonderful beer town.
R: Sounds risky to me. Did you get express written permission from World Class Beer to do this? Are any of Bier Brewery’s beers triple-soured during a sea journey across the equator? Maybe Dry-Chrysanthemummed? Better yet: Aged in caskets formerly used to bury Scottish road kill, but only if constructed with Islay-tempered wood?
MAP: (Laughing) Maybe, maybe not. Why not come up and see?
R: I might, thanks.
Still somewhat confused, I proceeded to the kitchen to begin work on an especially important pot of Hungarian Szekely Goulash, for which I’d reserved a bottle of Neyron Red from New Albany’s River City Winery.
As the aromas of pork, onions, paprika and sauerkraut filled the house, it seemed the perfect time to switch off the Arctic Monkeys’ newest and tune into the recently released Episode 9 of the podcast, the one where Scott Shreffler of Schlafly gave us a solid Gravity Head preview, but didn’t reveal how Schlafly managed to outbid Alltech for Yum Center craft access.
Only the shadow knows … and Centerplate, of course.
There were ten very interesting minutes jam-packed into the podcast’s hour-long running time, among them a good discussion (paraphrased) about beer brewed in Louisville, to wit:
How come we never talk about Cumberland Brewery/Brews?
Indeed. Why? It’s a relevant query, and the podcast’s participants were suitably thoughtful in briefly identifying a seeming “disconnect”: The 13-year-old brewpub’s relative anonymity when it comes to participation in events and discourse.
Someone noted that Cumberland Brews seems perfectly content to fly beneath the radar, to refrain from hedonistic chest-thumping, to please its customer base, and to thrive on its own little chunk of Louisville localism. Or, to be more succinct, Cumberland Brews might well be the only Louisville Metro brewery to recall and apply the founding principles and localist ethos of the craft beer revolution.
Who’s up for a Cumberland Brews tap takeover?
(pins drop, crickets chirp)
That’s what I thought. Perhaps in Taos, New Mexico. Is that far enough away?
NABC is a founding member of New Albany First, which is our city’s independent business association (IBA). It’s like the Louisville Independent Business Alliance (LIBA), which encourages you to Keep Louisville Weird, and is dedicated to encouraging the public to support independently owned, small local businesses. IBAs accomplish this through three primary focus areas:
1. Public education about the greater overall value local independents often can provide (even when they are not the cheapest) as well as the vital economic, social and cultural role independent businesses play in the community.
2. Facilitating cooperative promotion, advertising, purchasing, sharing of skills and resources and other activities to help local businesses gain economies of scale and compete more effectively.
3. Creating a strong and uncompromised voice to speak for local independents in the local government and media while engaging citizens in guiding the future of their community through democratic action.
NABC and our craft brewing brethren sink or swim as locally oriented independents, and many of us have pledged support via New Albany First and LIBA. Happily, the approaching holiday season provides a perfect opportunity to put worthwhile principles into real-world action.
We all know that “Black Friday” (November 29) is the biggest sales day of the year for big boxes and multinational chain stores — the ones where the money promptly flees town for corporate headquarters worldwide. In response to media hype and saturation advertising, which steer so much trade to the country’s biggest, richest and largest companies on “Black Friday,” the American Independent Business Alliance (AMIBA), of which New Albany First is a member, promotes Shift Your Shopping, of which Plaid (as opposed to Black) Friday is a component.
Instead of Black Friday it’s PLAID FRIDAY! Shift Your Shopping and wear plaid as you shop on Friday to remind yourself and others to make the 10% Shift. The 10% Shift encourages you to shift 10% of your holiday purchases from non-local businesses to Local Independents (also called indies or locally owned and independent businesses). Making the shift to local independents is one way we can build sustainable economies and create jobs in our local community.
It’s simple. You’re not being asked to go cold turkey — just allocate a percentage to independent local businesses, and learn what they can do for you. New Albany First and LIBA can help locate independent businesses, and we thank you for your support.
Now more than ever: Think globally, drink locally.

Friday, November 08, 2013

Centerplate will allow Schlafly to be available at the Yum Center.

Today on Facebook, Schlafly's Scott Shreffler (try saying those three words more than twice in a row without falling off your bar stool) announced that Schlafly would have craft beer at the KFC Yum Center.

Here it is, folks. Starting Saturday, you'll be able to enjoy a pint of delicious Schlafly Beer at U of L basketball games or any YUM Center event. You're welcome.

Here's the bright new kiosk (Scott's photo):

Given the messy payola and congenital backroom conniving that lies at the very heart of most concessionaire dealings with publicly-supported sporting venues, I asked Scott to explain how this was accomplished.

Roger, we ...

Sighhhhhhh ... the preceding quote was pulled because Scott asked me to keep it to myself.  It goes without saying that I have no idea why it goes without saying. Maybe that's why I'm becoming an outcast in my own industry. Perhaps I need to stop introducing inconvenient topics, cease rattling cages, and start trading beers with people 2,000 miles away. Maybe then I'd be happy. Maybe then I'd be brain-dead.

That's certainly refreshing, isn't it? Evidently there was no small-print advertising requirement, multi-dollar handshakes or mandated discounting of product.

On a related note, Sam Cruz of Against the Grain told me a few weeks ago that AtG intends to seek an arrangement to get the brewery's beer past the turnstiles and inside Louisville Slugger Field for next season, which is a Centerplate territory, too.

Wonder if I'm still blacklisted?

Thursday, November 07, 2013

Beer is back where it belongs: In church.

A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation. -- William Blake (1757-1827)

I can hear the anguished wailing of the prohibitionists; how dare alcohol be mixed with the only true religion -- except, of course, there is no true religion. As an atheist without an anthropology background, it's nonetheless plausible for me to suggest that combining religion with hallucinogens and intoxicants has the been the norm in human history far longer than bizarre notions of abstinence. Without them, does any of it even make sense?

To Stave Off Decline, Churches Attract New Members With Beer, by John Burnett (NPR)

With mainline religious congregations dwindling across America, a scattering of churches is trying to attract new members by creating a different sort of Christian community. They are gathering around craft beer.

Some church groups are brewing it themselves, while others are bring the Holy Mysteries to a taproom. The result is not sloshed congregants; rather, it's an exploratory approach to do church differently.

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

Louisville Zoo considers selling beer? Depends on what they mean by beer.

Rather than reprise various "Brew at the Zoo" lamentations appearing in this space for what seem like several decades, I'll merely repeat a link to non-accredited but entirely credible local source, River City Craft Wear:

Will Twerk For Transformers ...

... More than a few eyebrows raised when the title sponsorship of this year's 'Brew' went to Chicago's Goose Island Brewery. Famous for 312 Wheat Ale and Honkers Ale; Goose Island calls itself 'Chicago's Craft Beer.' Only, with minor harnessing of the power of Google, anyone can uncover the following:

1.) ABInBev purchased 58% of Goose Island (Fulton St. Brewery, LLC) in 2011.
2.) The remaining 42% of the company was then owned by the Craft Brewers Alliance (CBA). Phew, at least craft beer folks control SOME of Goose Island, right? Wrong. The CBA is a 'partner' of ABInBev, and sold their remaining stake in Goose Island to them. 'Chicago's Craft Beer' is anything but. It may as well be 'Budweiser Waterfowl Ale.' Or, as Roger Baylor (owner of New Albanian Brewing Co.) so perfectly put it, a 'Trojan Goose.'

Year in, year out, there comes a point during the discussion about Brew at the Zoo and the event's conceptual linkage with local craft beer when the civet cat comes tumbling from the bag, and the organizers concede that maximum fundraising revenue is the primary concern ... and there's nothing intrinsically wrong with this so long as it isn't labeled deceptively.

Don't sell it as "craft" if non-craft Goose Island (read: AB InBev) is greasing the wheels. Make it Goose at the Zoo, and watch as my objections evaporate.

Meanwhile, the zoo's everyday management now is floating a trial hippo with reference to beer sales. Readers are free to conjure their own backroom linkages between those conclusions borne of our Brew at the Zoo experiences, the fabulous propensity of concessionaires to fluff (and be fluffed by) corporate multi-national business, and the likely sources of future beer in your cup. I hope I'll be surprised, but breaths should not be held.

Louisville Zoo wants to start selling beer, by Sheldon S. Shafer (Courier-Journal)

Lions and tigers and beer, oh my!

The Louisville Zoo wants to allow beer sales as part of its effort to bring in more money and reduce its reliance on Metro government funding.

Many of the details — such as when beer sales would start — remain to be worked out between the zoo and its new concessionaire, said zoo spokeswoman Kyle Shepherd.

Sunday, November 03, 2013

The PC: Aren't we leftists all?

(Published at on November 1, 2013)


Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?

The sensation of which I speak isn’t an irrational state like paranoia. Rather, it’s the sneaking suspicion that you’re being toyed with, prompted and set up … suddenly confronted with a situation so weirdly surreal that a hidden camera surely must be aimed your way, primed to capture your dumbfounded, flailing reaction for speedy editing into a video for posting on YouTube, to be greeted virally with the guffaws of the uneducated, addled masses.

My former manager at Scoreboard Liquors must have felt this way on the infamous day thirty years ago when a complete stranger walked in, pointed at the door to the rear office, and asked, “Do you mind if I go back there and change my pants?”

YouTube obviously didn’t exist back then, but Candid Camera did, and the late Lloyd “Duck” Cunningham’s unprintable reply to the unknown man’s request would have played well in syndication, with Allen Funt joyfully suffering the brunt of bleeped-out epithets.

So it was earlier this year, when my inbox disgorged a question from an unhappy customer.

A little while ago I noticed there was a room that had pictures of several mass murdering, genocidal, tyrannical dictators on the walls. As a customer what meaning should I take from that? In my opinion it seems to show support from the owner of New Albania of these tyrants?

I enjoy the pizza at NABC but I don’t enjoy the thought of supporting someone that idolized people like the pictures and posters you seem to proudly display. Maybe I misunderstand their meaning.

My initial reaction was annoyance: Who had gone in there, pulled down my Commie posters and replaced them with fascists – Franco, Mussolini, Idi Amin and Dick Cheney?

Then I realized he was referring to the usual Red Room stalwarts like Lenin, Castro and Gus Hall. Well, that’s fair enough, because it all depends on where you’re standing at the time.

Here’s what I told him in reply.

It isn’t necessarily a misunderstanding on your part, but what I can tell you with certainty is that there is no idolatry on mine.

I remain a leftist, broadly speaking, and I traveled in the East Bloc and USSR as a young man in the 1980s, but while I found these countries fascinating from a number of standpoints, they were not places where I ever wished to live.

Your question is asked every now and then, and my answer always has been the same: The Red Room means whatever the observer wishes for it to mean: Kitschy poster art emporium, spoils of Cold War victory or a shrine of reverence.

However, the primary intent for me is for it to serve as a talking point to help keep a piece of still-recent history living, in the sense that with each passing year, fewer (mostly younger) customers have any clue what the era even was about.

The verdict of history is fairly clear when it comes to the legacy of Stalin and Mao, and I have confidence that interested parties will reach that conclusion, as you and I surely have. But they must first be interested, and motivated to investigate. In my view, the Red Room periodically serves that purpose.

To the best of my rapidly declining base of pop culture knowledge, the preceding explanation is true.

As for what I might have been thinking twenty years ago with regard to the space now known as the Red Room, it’s also true that my prime motivation at the time was to have a place to display the many period propaganda pieces hauled home from travels abroad. One thing led to another, and there it was. It came together non-metaphorically.

I’m the first to admit there is as little to idolize on Stalin’s part as Hitler’s, but to repeat, the point lies elsewhere. Now that decades have passed and the older generations have departed, precious little discussion takes place about the “-isms” dominating the entirety of the 20th century … and sorry, yonder Teahadists, but loud ranting amid voluminous ricocheting spittle about Communism in the context of “Obamacare” does not suffice as earnestness.

Forgetting history begets repeating it, as either Santayana or Carlos Santana once said … or sang. It is my intention not to do so.

But my favorite example of work- and history-related consumer behavior occurred not at the Public House, but at Bank Street Brewhouse not long after we opened in 2009.

One of our servers was asked to explain Roger’s political beliefs in light of the red stars and leftist images on the shiny new brewing equipment visible just past the window.

Our man on the floor at the time, who’d studied some history and poli-sci, made a game effort to interpret these complex threads of geopolitics, economics and the art of brewing, and to phrase them in snappy sentences reproducible on bumper stickers for a Lexus, and yet the customer remained unimpressed, writing this on his charge card receipt:

“Tell your Commie boss to share the wealth.”

In order to accentuate his displeasure with my cheeky political proclivities, this rather boorish scion of an identifiably Falangist regional family left the gratuity column empty, thus stiffing the server while doing me no harm whatever.

Classy, eh? Not only that, but the customer was mistaken; in fact, I share the wealth of my knowledge every day, as teachers are wont to do, and in this vein, permit me to repeat my advice to the server, should such a question ever be asked again:

“We don’t care what sort of ‘ist’ Roger is, just as long as he keeps signing our paychecks.”

Friday, November 01, 2013

Houndmouth, band and ale, all around this November.

In the summer of 1985, I was in Ireland.

I was in search of an Irish stereotype, preferring it to be a regular provincial town and not a larger city, once with scenery nearby for rambling through. There needed to be pubs (as though one could locate a square inch of Ireland without three or more of them) and cheap eats. It needed to be accessible by train, because that way, tickets already were paid with my Eurailpass.

A place just like Sligo, in fact.

It was to the northwest of Dublin, on Ireland’s opposite side, and a place utterly alien to me that sounded estimably Irish. There wasn’t enough time to explore Donegal, to the north, where the original language still could be heard. Sligo was my choice, and it proved to be a good one.

Exiting the train station on a sunny day, I saw an orderly settlement of perhaps 10,000 inhabitants (a quarter-century later, it has doubled in size). There were pubs and a lively main street, a small river surrounded by decaying gray mills, and green fields on the periphery, rolling out to meet Knocknarea and Ben Bulben, two limestone hills looming nearby. Near the bus station I passed a normal row house with a hand-lettered sign in the window offering a room to let for travelers just like me. The husband and wife both were teachers, supplementing their incomes during tourist season. It was ideal.

Back in France, a British rock and roll magazine parked atop the breakfast table had trumpeted Live Aid, Bob Geldof’s benefit concert for Ethiopian famine relief, scheduled for worldwide transmission by satellite on July 13, 1985. Early in the morning that exact day, Gerry was off to play golf at nearby Strandhill, and he dropped me off at the foot of Knocknarea. I hiked to the top for an examination of the ancient burial mound, then descended and hopped a weekend bus back to Sligo. Live Aid was underway at Wembley in London, and the pubs were more crowded than I'd imagined with people in the pre-big screen age, watching the concert.

At some point, I went back to my lodging, and found Gerry and Mary intently huddled around a tiny black and white television in the kitchen, upon which there were fuzzy images of U2 taking the stage. This was much to my delight. It was a band I knew well, just a few albums into its ascension, and as Irish as Irish could be. Sharing this viewpoint with my hosts, they nodded amiably and proceeded to inform me of their abysmal ignorance of pop music -- but U2, well, it was a different thing altogether, even if they didn't know a single song.

"They're Irish boys, one of us."

Fast forward too damned many years, and I feel the same sort of pride about Houndmouth. They're New Albanian lads, and a lass, although the difference between anecdote participants is that I know and like Houndmouth's music, which to the uninitiated is hard to describe. Accounts of the band often evoke comparisons to The Band, and I'll leave it at that. We all got together early in 2013 when Houndmouth suggested we brew a beer just for them, and while such pairings don't always work out, this one seemed worth trying, and so we did. It was a genuine collaboration. We sat around a table at Bank Street Brewhouse, tasted and chatted, and the final verdict was a hoppy American Wheat Ale. David Pierce and Ben Minton took it from there.

Houndmouth was on tap for Houndmouth's season-opening outdoor show at the Iroquois Amphitheater back in April, and it will be pouring again on November 29 and 30, when the group plays indoors at Headliners. NABC's web site has the details, along with news of the St. Matthews Mellow Mushroom's month long Houndmouth beer promo.

Mellow Mushroom in St. Matthews is putting on the Houndmouth all November long