On August 20, Downtown Boulder Inc. put on their third annual Boulder Craft Beer Festival, and it was a hit. They couldn’t have picked a better day weather-wise, though I doubt they had any say in the matter. And the proximity to the end of summer and the beginning of a new school year brought a certain amount of refinery and community to good old-fashioned day drinking.
The aim of the Boulder Craft Beer Festival was simple: Bring the best breweries from the county — and a few from beyond — to one location and unleash the Boulder masses upon them. Patrons were armed with a large plastic shot glass with a line at the 2-ounce mark — though many breweries treated this line as merely a suggestion — and wandered to whatever brew tent suits their interest. Since all the beer had been included in the price of admission, all the tents suited their interests.
Most breweries offered a choice between two pours, and most of these pours were their heavy hitters. The Boulder Craft Beer Fest is not the place for the odd, but for breweries to grab new customers and for drinkers to discover new breweries.
And, in a manner of speaking, it worked. We set about with the plan to drink from the breweries in our blind spot. This meant skipping the Averys and Boulder Beers of the world, and focusing on Shine — one of the few women-owned breweries in the U.S. — Walnut, Sanitas — brewed from organic ingredients — Asher and City Star. All held wonderful gems and deserve full write-ups in future Weeklies.
But, in an odd way, the Boulder Craft Beer Fest wasn’t so much about the breweries — there was little to no interaction between drinker and pourer — or the beer. It was about the people. Boulderites love their craft beer, and with such a vast array of brews under the shadow of the Flatirons, so too are the people who drink them.
That day, West Central Park was loaded with representatives from every age group and niche soaking up sun and suds. Some sported Broncos jerseys, while others were dressed for a night on the town. A few bros in basketball shorts quietly shuffled along, trying to drink off last night’s hangover while a large group of students returning from summer break used the fest as an excuse to catch-up. Two California transplants discussed the clarity of the air and the price of gas, while hippies and hipsters politely stood next to each other in line, both munching on pretzel necklaces. One girl ran back and forth between lines, introducing no less than 20 people to one another.
On the stage, The Heartstring Hunters strummed alternative folk music as a middle aged man approached the table at West Flanders, saw the brewers bag of chips and claimed them for his own. When his friend informed him that he just stole someone’s chips, the potato thief shrugged and casually replied: “Ask for forgiveness, not permission.”
Just beyond the green grass, the beer tents, the live music, the food trucks and the portable toilets was a chain-link fence penning us all in. It was a boozy petting zoo for adults, and we were the attraction.
