Ode To The Closed Brewery
This is an article written by one of our great listeners Eric Gronli listening from Minnesota. Kris read the article on EP275 and we wanted to post it on the website for others to enjoy.
Ode To The Closed Brewery
There’s a certain kind of heartbreak in watching a favorite craft brewery close its doors. It’s not just the loss of a local establishment —it’s the disappearance of a gathering place, someone’s small business dream, and the unique personality each brewery brings to its community. Craft beer may be a hobby or interest for many of us, but it’s the livelihood for many as well. As someone that is really interested in the history of beer and the business of beer, I felt driven to write some thoughts on the closing subject after an encounter I had last Friday.
For my job, I get to be on the road around the twin cities at various times during the month. A brewery about 45 min away from my house that I ended up stopping in when I passed by was Chanhassen brewing company (it’s a half mile from where Prince’s lived- fun point of interest). I recently read that they would be closing their doors in February. It made me reflect on my pit stops over the years. Every time I dropped by, the staff and owners were very gracious with conversation, highlighting a new style or beer, and creative recipes. This wasn’t just an IPA brewery- some of the variety of styles that I enjoyed to name a few: Rauchbier, Weizenbock, Red IPA, Pecan Pie Brown ale, Rye beer with Earl Grey tea, and the final bottle I picked up is a Rye Wine. It’s in my fridge and I will look to drink to celebrate something special or as an ode to their impact on my craft beer journey. My rating avg was 4.05 for their 15 beers I had- very good. One of the statements the owner shared with me was that even though it was a tough choice to make, he didn’t feel like he failed over the past 6 years; he was proud of the journey, and wanted to make sure he closed “the right way”. I found that to be very admirable, and shared my appreciation for the beers they made, wishing them luck for the next chapter.
Across the country, we hear more and more breweries are shutting down- victims of rising costs, shifting consumer habits, and the lingering economic aftershocks of the pandemic.
Breweries are more than just places that serve beer. They foster creativity- brewers push boundaries with IPAs, complex stouts, and wild-fermented sours. They are community gems where friendships form over flights, and trivia nights and live music bring people together. Big beer brands just can’t compete with breweries that embrace the importance of those relationships with their communities.
But, despite the industry’s explosive growth over the past decade, gaps have started to form. The cost of ingredients, equipment, rent, and labor have skyrocketed, which squeezes margins to the tipping point. The craft beer boom has also led to intense competition, and many smaller breweries find it hard to stand out in an increasingly crowded market. At the same time, drinking habits are shifting—consumers may be drinking less alcohol overall, and turning to alternatives like hard seltzers, canned cocktails, or even non-alcoholic craft options.
Every closed brewery leaves behind an empty space—not just a vacant taproom, but a hole in the fabric of its neighborhood. We mourn their loss, remembering the conversations had over a pint, the local collaborations that made their way into small-batch releases, and the sense of a place that can’t be repeated.
So let’s raise a glass to the ones we’ve lost, to the experimental saisons and crisp lagers that once flowed from their taps. And let’s remember that behind every closure is a passionate brewer and entrepreneur who took a risk, poured their heart into their craft, and gave us something to savor while it lasted. Here’s to the closed breweries—they may be gone, but their impact lingers in every future pint we drink.
Cheers,
Eric Gronli
