By Timothy Long

Craft Beer’s Original Witch

Did you know that you’ve been drinking Witch’s Brew? I bet you didn’t. The beer industry has in its past a sad history that most people don’t know. It’s a story of how honest mistakes can ruin lives, how ignorance can destroy them, and how greed and the lust for power have no boundaries.

If you love craft beer and Halloween, you may be spiritually closer to a medieval alewife than to the guy in the taproom explaining mouthfeel and dry hopping. Long before modern breweries were packing patios with IPAs, stouts, and dreaded pumpkin ales, women were brewing beer at home and selling it to the neighbors. They were basically the original neighborhood taprooms, minus the Edison bulbs and logo merch. These women were known as alewives, and brewing was often a vital source of income for their families. They malted grain, managed fermentation, experimented with herbs and spices, and made beer people actually wanted to drink. They were the original craft brewers, without stainless-steel fermenters, fancy tap handles, or a man-bun wearing guy named Kyle lecturing on how the hazy IPA is “super crushable.”

When you look at the traditional image of a witch, what you are actually seeing is a twisted image of an alewife. A woman standing over a large bubbling kettle, surrounded by sacks of grain, strange-looking herbs, wooden barrels, and a broomstick. Today, we’d probably call that a pretty cool brewery setup. In medieval Europe, however, it could look downright nefarious. Brewing itself appeared almost magical. Grain and water went into a cauldron, fermentation somehow transformed the mixture, and several days later you had an alcoholic beverage. Add herbs and spices to the recipe, and the process looked like witchcraft. Without an understanding of yeast and fermentation, it wasn’t difficult for people of that time to believe there was something supernatural going on.

So where does the broomstick come into play? I’m glad you asked. Alewives sometimes used a broom or broomstick outside their homes to advertise that beer was available for sale. It was often hung over the front door, the medieval equivalent of a “Beer Here” sign. Over time, the image of a woman, a broom, a cauldron, and a collection of herbs became associated with witchcraft. The brewing kettle could become the witch’s potion cauldron, the herbs became magical ingredients, and the knowledgeable woman brewing over the fire became sinister.

We have all seen the movie The Wizard of Oz. The Wicked Witch of the West truly represented this image. The costume designers did it without even thinking. The fact that this image represented an alewife probably never even dawned on them. To them, and to everyone, this is what a witch looked like. This image was also used for the character Witchy Poo in the children’s TV show “H.R. Puff n Stuff.” I always felt bad for Witchy Poo. All she wanted was Jimmy’s magic flute. But no matter how many tricks or shenanigans she came up with, Jimmy wasn’t going to give it to her. I didn’t catch the sexual undertone of the shows plot when I was nine. But I love to giggle at it now.

So, let’s get back to the alewife. As in today’s craft beer world, reputation was everything. A talented alewife could develop a loyal following due to the quality of her beer. A bad batch of beer could send customers down the road to the competition. Unfortunately, when beer went bad in the Middle Ages, people didn’t have a laboratory to check the yeast, sanitation, or fermentation temperature. Sometimes the explanation was simply, “The beer went bad.” Other times, it was assumed that the alewife had bewitched the brew. Brewing was a business, and competition could be fierce. Accusations of witchcraft could be severely damaging to a woman whose livelihood depended on selling beer.

Brewing and selling beer could be profitable, and men took notice. And most of them were not happy about women succeeding in business. As commercial breweries and taverns became more established, independent alewives could find themselves competing with larger operations. Accusations and rumors were an easy way to damage the alewife’s reputation and lessen the competition. It wasn’t uncommon for a brewer to have a bad batch of beer. And it was easy to start a rumor that the alewife’s batch had been bewitched. This woman who was independent, knowledgeable, successful, and working outside of the traditional and expected roles easily found herself as the target of suspicion.

Fast-forward several hundred years and the irony is amazing. Modern craft brewers have taken many of the same ingredients that once made alewives look suspicious—herbs, spices, unusual grains, fruit, and wild yeast—and turned them into some of the most creative beers on the market. Today’s brewers proudly experiment with ingredients that would have looked downright strange to our ancestors. We call it innovation. But to Medieval villagers, it was dark magic.

Halloween has also become one of the best times of the year for brewers to embrace the connection. Walk into a craft brewery in October and you’ll find pumpkin ales, smoked porters, spiced stouts, dark lagers, sour ales, and beers flavored with cinnamon, clove, vanilla, coffee, and fruit. Some breweries even give their beers names that sound like they came straight out of a witch’s spell book. The modern craft beer industry has essentially taken the old brewing cauldron, put it on a stainless-steel brewhouse, and started charging $8 a pint.

So, when you’re sitting at your local brewery this Halloween enjoying a pint of something dark, mysterious, and slightly dangerous, raise your glass to the alewife. She wasn’t a witch. She was a brewer, entrepreneur, and a craft-beer pioneer who understood the mysterious magic of fermentation long before anyone knew how yeast worked. The witch may have gotten the broom and the cauldron, but the alewife deserves some credit for craft beer. And honestly, I’d rather spend Halloween with her at the brewing kettle than with that man-bun wearing craft beer know-it-all bloviating at the bar. Cheers!

About the Author: Timothy Long is an educator, writer, consultant, and experienced restaurant operator. Email: . Instagram and Twitter: @wvutimmy. Blog: What is that fly doing in my soup? http://whatflyinmysoup.com

Tim’s Whiskey and Cigar Recommendations

Blade and Bow Bourbon

Yes, I’ve recommended it before, and I’ll do it again without hesitation. Blade and Bow Bourbon is a fall favorite for a reason. The aroma opens with notes of peaches, honey, and hay, while the palate delivers a refined balance of white pepper, vanilla, oak, and spice. Smooth, complex, and endlessly satisfying, this bourbon has earned a permanent place on my shelf. At 91 proof and around $50 per bottle, it’s a perfect companion for a fall day.

AVO Ritmo Cigar

The AVO Ritmo is a bright, lively, medium-bodied cigar that is full of flavor without becoming a heavyweight. The Ecuadorian Habano wrapper delivers a smooth, slightly sweet opening with notes of cream, cedar, toasted nuts, and a touch of black pepper. About halfway through the smoke, I get espresso, baking spice, and leather with a little more pepper coming through. The finish is creamy and smooth, with most of the flavors lingering. This is not a cigar that demands your complete attention. It is more like a good piece of music playing in the background while you’re sipping your Blade and Bow bourbon after enjoying a round of golf.

This cigar, and many other fine cigars, are available at John Crouch Tobacconist at 215 King St. in Old Town Alexandria. Mention this article and get 10% off the purchase of this month’s recommended cigar.