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During the period of my life when I co-owned and managed one of the better beer bars in our region, a time that amounted to roughly a quarter-century, when even my best friends said it couldn’t be done in New Albany, my best-case scenario remained clear.
If anyone who knew anything about beer walked in and looked around, they’d say to themselves damn, someone here in the backwoods knows what they’re doing.
The rest was gravy.
I didn’t reckon on the chief personal legacy of this period, because nowadays, when I walk into a place and look around, most often I say to myself damn, no one here knows what they’re doing.
But when I made it at last to the Hopleaf Bar in Chicago in November, 2022, walking from the “L” with my friend through a sudden Andersonville snow squall, and setting...
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