This is how Vermont starts a beer tour

The first Vermonter I met on our week-long stay in the Green Mountains was a red-faced middle-aged man in pajama pants, Birkenstocks with socks, and a lilac LL Bean fleece vest. “All right! Here we go! How you doin’? Great! Let’s go!” he shouted as he clapped his hands and bounded into the convenience store. A toxic cloud of alcohol breathed along behind him. I ducked down in the refrigerated aisle, debating which of the dozen or so Vermont-made beers there to try first.

Vermont does small up big. Next to my home state of Ohio, it’s really a puny place, but they lead the country in breweries per capita. Many of the breweries and brew pubs are small and don’t distribute widely. Big is not always better, and this is something that Vermonters completely understand. Sustainable, local, green, independent business practices are the standard here. These seem to be in the citizenry’s very attitude toward living in the state, which fosters the perfect atmosphere for small breweries.

A Burlington sunset over Lake Champlain

One might argue that this local pride and self confidence stems from the Revolutionary War. Ben and I are staying in the Green Mountains in the northern end of the state, right around where Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys terrorized British authorities and scared surveyors from the land. The sentiment being, as far as I can judge, “The hell you’re going to take my land.” After seeing these hills in an autumn sunset, I can see why you would fight so viciously for them.

Walking around Burlington, Vermont for an afternoon, a city seated on land once owned by Allen, one gets the impression the citizens here wouldn’t think twice about fighting viciously again – and that they all most likely have guns in their closets. Vermont’s state motto is “Freedom and Unity,” and I have no doubt they’d fight together for the right to do their own damn thing.

Ben at Fiddlehead Brewing with a sample I'm about to spill all over him and the counter

We’ve been here since Sunday evening and have had only Vermont beers save one out of Massachusetts that I bought for sentimental reasons. Yesterday Ben and I took a tour of several breweries in Burlington, starting with the Vermont Pub and Brewery, then heading to Switchback, Fiddlehead, and landing at Magic Hat. Our young tour guide couldn’t be coerced to veer from his script, so we learned again how beer is made, what “unfiltered” means, and how IPAs got their name. No one really had a problem with it or even really listened to him because in Vermont they do small big, and we had Bacchanalian amounts of beer to sample.

But it’s not just Burlington – breweries dot the countryside. We ducked inside a promising-looking pub in downtown Burlington Tuesday when the chill wind off the water proved too much. The Ruben James carried at least ten Vermont beers. My favorite was a rustic ale from Lost Nation, and not just because that’s an awesome name. Long Trail Brewing does things up right too, and we had a spectacular IPA that chilly afternoon.

Warmed, we walked back out to the Church Street Marketplace, a pedestrian-friendly shopping area. Yes, there is a Macy’s and a Starbucks there, but more importantly, there is an independent bookstore, a tobacconist, a record store, a paper store, a local artisan gallery, and an independent coffee shop. “Play to your strengths,” they say, and Vermont certainly plays to its size and makes small work. Toasty and reenergized, I wanted to clap my hands, too. “Yeah! Great! Let’s do this!”