Vermont Beer Travelogue – The Pillaging of Route 7

welcome-to-vermont-road-signVermont, a land of keeping it local to a level rarely seen apart from rampant inbreeding in the Ozarks. As the rest of the country shifts to farm fresh, locally-sourced food about as quick as a slug trying to free itself from a greased KFC bucket of molasses, Vermont’s been living it.

The OG of farm to table, they believe it, be it, eat it. This is a state that still has huge tracts of open land and a populace just under three quarters of a million protecting it. We saw a few chinks in that handmade armor over our three days, namely a LongHorn Steakhouse and McDonald’s, but the resistance is strong.

So yes, Vermont is a magical shire of mountain greenery that’ll make you want to dig in your roots and maintain your lawn (one of the main activities we observed). You may even be compelled to produce maple syrup and advertise it every five feet, but communing with nature isn’t what brought us to this land of hippies and trees.

We came to partake in a beer scene that fervently sticks to its oddly drawn borders. One where “distribution” is a dirty word, where locals buy up every brewed drop, and where  a couple thieving bastards from Pennsylvania can sometimes steal it away a case at a time (and with a little sloshing around in our guts). Here’s what we did and what you can do too.

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