In 2014, we conducted a different, and yet still great, taste of the Midwest.

Usually at this precise moment I'd be at the Great Dane, Vintage Brewing or the Capital Brewing beer garden, getting primed for the Great taste of the Midwest.

However, this being a period of relative transition for NABC since the shuttering of Bank Street Brewhouse's kitchen in May, we'd decided long ago to scale back the crew at GTMW in 2014, all the better to restore full (and expensive) debauchery in 2015.

Tonight like always, the boys and girls are on site in Madison, and I'm not, but oddly, my wife and I just returned from a road trip that included the Wisconsin state capital.

It's all quite simple, really. She had an unexpected opportunity to change jobs, and grabbed the advancement, leaving us with a window to load up the car and embark on a Great American Road Trip, just not at the same time as the Great Taste of the Midwest.

We had our own great taste, of Madison, Minneapolis-St. Paul, Duluth and Dubuque. I've backdated daily trip renderings and photos at my other blog, where you can find all the links collected in one place.

All the Northern Road Trip posting links collected in one place.

Over the next few days I'll be backdating postings here, and getting caught up. Kindly bear with me, anc cheers to all who'll be at the nation's best-run and most authentic beer fest this Saturday.

Great Taste Roadtrip 2011: Thursday, August 18.

The last day's stopping point was St. Joseph and Benton Harbor, two proud and quite different Michigan cities on opposite sides of the St. Joseph River. St. Joseph appears to have survived the 1900's and early Noughts with some degree of success, retaining its good Lake Michigan beaches and a semblance of a tax base, while Benton Harbor is enduring a series of disappointing reversals in terms of self-government and the economy.

Unfortunately, the potential solution to Benton Harbor's present difficulties seems centered on golf. As minted by the city fathers and corporate patron Whirlpool, the plan is bringing a championship caliber golf course and surrounding gentrified community built in part on ground confiscated (okay, "privatized") from Benton Harbor's lakefront park.

However, being from New Albany, I may be calling the kettle black.

In my view, Benton Harbor's biggest selling point is the presence of The Livery, which is the sort of place that defines the essence of the craft beer revolution. Former NABC brewmaster Jared Williamson originally made the connection with The Livery's Steve Berthel, and while Steve unfortunately couldn't be around last on the final day of the road trip, we ate, drank, and lugged growlers back to the hotel (and home).

Following is the story of NABC's connection with The Livery, as told in previous posts.

It's simple: Steve and Jared brew a collaborative batch, and then I drink beer with them.

Jared Williamson on "Michigan: Passion, Pints, and Pride."

Scenes from The Livery's 5th Anniversary Ale brew day (Part One).

Scenes from The Livery's 5th Anniversary Ale brew day (Part Two).

Evansville interlude.

I'm reporting live from the beautiful Hotel Volga in downtown Bucharest, Romania, where the mystery meat in gray sauce was featured at the recent Plenum of the Workers' Party 18th Conference ... no, wait; my mistake. Actually I'm at the Executive Inn in Evansville, Indiana, for my family (mom's side) reunion.

It's got me rapping:

One NABC growler down
With Lite beer all around
They say my grandaddy drank Miller
But this Publican ain't no swiller

BUT SERIOUSLY ... I've nothing whatsoever against the city of Evansville, and my regrets are two-fold. First, I'm only here for one night, which means that the only chance to see my relatives precludes visiting Turoni's for excellent pizza and craft beer. Second, in order to make it to Indianapolis tomorrow in time for the beer dinner at Opti Park, I may have to miss the opportunity to savor barbecued mutton at the family's picnic near Henderson Friday afternoon.

Not to mention the brain sandwiches that are an Evansville staple.

There'll be time in the future. For now, my Friday plan is to hit the road after breakfast, head north to Terre Haute, then pick up I-70 into the state capital. I'll have four growlers in the trunk, a bag of homemade (by the Mrs.) trail mix in the front seat, some hoary Elvin Bishop cassette tapes to play while driving my mom's 12-year-old Crown Vic, and a wonderful goal: Great Indiana food, great Indiana-brewed beer, great company and a weekend that proves how damned lucky I am to be in such a great business.

I get paid to drink beer. Who'd have thunk it?

Night of the living plastic bottled swill Hell … but a good time for the discerning.

Imagine that you’ve paid the very reasonable price of $80 for a chartered bus seat, a ticket in the right field stands to watch the Chicago Cubs vs. the homestanding Cincinnati Reds, a pre-game picnic meal of barbecue and the fixings, and all the craft draft beer you can drink before and after the game.

Imagine that the three craft beers on tap on the bus are BBC APA (Main & Clay), Browning’s She-Devil IPA, and Browning’s Helles, the latter a German-style golden lager perfectly familiar to any person who has ever suckled an ice-cold Bud Light.

Imagine that such an unprecedented deal isn’t quite good enough for you, so you ignore the craft beer you’ve already paid for, pack a cooler with canned and bottled swill, throw back a dozen or more overpriced “waters,” as Sergio would call them, during the ballgame, and at a moment of supreme self-revelation during the journey home, begin belting out an off-key version of the best-forgotten, hoary seventies paean to piddling Parrotland, “Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw” – all the while believing that in your choice of beer, music and life, you’re being somehow clever and the life of the party.

I can’t imagine it, although I experienced it on Saturday, July 28.

However, it is my pleasure to report that entirely apart from redneck contingents originating in my (sighhh) home town of New Albany, there is good beer to be found at the Hofbrauhaus Newport, and even at Great American Ball Park itself. Within 100 yards of our seats at the home field of the Reds, I found Great Lakes Burning River Pale Ale, BarrelHouse Red Legg and an unidentified Flying Dog, along with a Red Hook IPA -- all ridiculously priced at $7.25 per plastic cup, but at least bearing tangible sign of hops and hope.

Meanwhile, mainstream America supped predictably at the altar of mainstream plastic bottles as the Reds bowed unconvincingly to the Cubs by an 8-1 score before a sellout “home” crowd of 42,500, of whom at least six of ten were Cubs, not Reds, supporters.

That’s surreal, but not as surreal as the bizarro-world spectacle of swill-hounds eschewing all-inclusive craft beer for the nadir of American brewing. Might I have been able to assist by providing salt, limes and other irrelevancies?

Verily, I should be used to it by now, but there are times when New Albany can really get to a guy ... and follow him back and forth during an otherwise marvelous break.

(Originally published at NA Confidential)