COOP Ale Works

I'm not too big on beer.  When I saw that there was going to be a Beer Fest at Riverwind a couple of weeks ago, I was mostly intrigued because of all of the local breweries that were going to be sampling their wares.  I had tried a few of the local beers, but since I'm admittedly not big on beer in the first place, it would take forever to sample them all, one pint at a time.  This was the perfect opportunity to taste-test a whole slew of Okie-brewed goodness. 

Half a dozen tastes later, I decide I will need to call it quits if I am going to drive home.  The event is winding down anyway.  That is when I meet "All it takes is a liver and a dream", and we decide that we should take a tour of one of our favorite local breweries - COOP Ale Works.

Fast forward two weeks and we join a handful of people on a rainy Saturday at the unassuming metal building that currently houses the COOP operations (at least until the bank signs a big check and they get to move to a much larger facility on S. Meridian).  The small "COOP Ale Works" sticker on the glass of the front door is the only indication that we were at the right place.  Co-owner, J.D. Merryweather greets everyone and quickly reminds each of them as they arrive that he isn't allowed to do any tastings, due to current laws.  Despite the warning, no one walks out.

J.D. explains how beer is first heated in the whirlpools...

...then the yeast is added and allowed to ferment in one of the "Jackson 5" tanks

The tour starts in the front of the warehouse, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling pallets of Horny Toad cans and shelves of different varieties of malt.  Jack Daniel whiskey barrels are wheeled in as space allows.  We move to the back of the warehouse where whirlpools and giant metal tanks turn simple ingredients into a finely-crafted beverage.  Buckets of sterilized water bubble as carbon dioxide is released from the brew in the tanks named after the Jackson 5 (and various other Jackson family, as operations expanded).  Alcohol and carbon dioxide are the by-products of the fermentation process, and the tanks can only hold 18 PSI.  J.D. shows us where the tedious canning and bottling take place in a small, four-person assembly line.  He also explains the difference between ales and lagers, for the beer-illiterate, such as myself.

Proof that the yeast is doing its job

COOP is proud of its local heritage (even though J.D. is originally from Ohio and admits that he has tried to leave Oklahoma on several occasions).  They participate in loads of local events and charitable functions.  Their website boasts of their focus on being local, sustainable, and high-quality/ low impact.  They were one of the first local businesses to be 100% wind-powered.  There are future plans to purchase hops grown here in Oklahoma, if the water-hungry crops are successful.  In addition, COOP prides themselves on over-doing the customer service side of the business - definitely a plus!

I asked about the COOP logo, since an anvil just isn't the first thing that comes to mind when you think about beer.  He explains that they are one of the few breweries that still brew in wooden barrels, which were hand-crafted with anvils.  The COOP name comes from a combination of a "coop"eration between the group of friends that started the company as well as the number of "co-op's" around Oklahoma and neighboring states.  While some of the beer label art is self-explanatory (Horny Toad, DNR, F5, and Native Amber), some of the others are a little more personal.  The Gran Sport Porter features a vintage Vespa, that was one of the 30 Vespas that he owned at one point.  ("Why 30?" I ask.  "Because I didn't have room for 31," he answers.)

Even though the current shop seem tiny in comparison to most brewing operations, it is exciting to see what this company has done in 3 1/2 years.  Oklahoma is now one of the top three brewing locations in the nation, and COOP is winning awards and building a brand that is gaining expanding recognition.  I'll raise a glass of my personal fav - the Gran Sport Porter - to that!  Cheers!

Jungles and Tornadoes, or just another Spring day in Oklahoma

Rock me, baby!

I was moping around yesterday morning, feeling sorry for my spoiled self.  It was overcast, threatening rain and tornadoes; and the storms, real and predicted, were the ruling topic of the weekend.  I call myself spoiled because I've played outside every weekend of this year, as if I have no responsibilities other than to hop on rocks.

Know anyone that would like a friendly rat?

My playground friends and I had been storm tracking on the weather sites - News9, weather.com, NOAA, newsok, etc.  The weekend forecast was being analyzed and broken down by hourly increments.  Would we have time to go somewhere to play?  Would we have time to come back and grab the furries and load them up in the car and try to outrun the storms?  (Not that I am recommending this, but I don't know what shelter might allow me to bring the 3 dogs, 2 cats, a rat, and a duck that are currently living at my house.)  The chances kept dropping like the barometric pressure.

I drowned my sorrows in my coffee mug at The Red Cup.  I looked prepared for the day in my new, one-size-too-big-but-they-had-every-size-but-mine-and-I-wanted-the-red-ones rain boots, with my "cranky" socks with a big hole in the heel.  My jeans were rolled up and my gray hoodie was going to keep me cozy and warm.  Too warm - it was steamy-muggy.  I might have looked prepared on the outside, but on the inside I was fighting it.  Why couldn't this stuff happen on a weekday?

Before

After

Friends rolled in and out of the Cup while I sulked.  One cheery friend pedaled over on her bicycle.  Her camping trip for the weekend had been cancelled, but she said that she was already "making lemonade" out of her now-free day.  Darn cheery people on a gray day.  Didn't she know that the sun gods were supposed to bail me out, like they usually do?  They were there last weekend when I did my first outdoor climbing trip at Quartz Mountain; even as we could see the rain streak past, but it didn't see us on the side of the granite wall.  They've been there on numerous trips to hike in the Wichitas.  Maybe those are only mountain sun gods.  Guess I need to make Facebook friends with the other sun gods and "like" their banal posts about what they are eating or where they have checked in. 


The topic of conversation makes a turn like a hook-echo and suddenly we're discussing gardens and yardwork.  One friend tells us about the jungle in her backyard that is getting so bad that she fears it might swallow her 3 1/2-year old child.  She said that the worse it gets, the more she tries to ignore it.  All it does is inspire her to work harder on beautifying the front yard (which is gorgeous, by the way).  We start planning a progressive garden gnome party, and suddenly my day brightens.

Before

Definitely "Before"

One machete, two weed-eaters, three friends, and four hours later the jungle has been tamed.  She really wasn't kidding.  This jungle could have easily sucked up a small child into its vortex - maybe even a couple of adults.  She had only mentioned how the grass was up to her son's shoulders.  What she failed to mention was the forest of volunteer trees wrapped in vines and hairy vetch.

During

While we worked, the wind gusted around us and the clouds blew past.  Occasionally, I would wonder what time the bad weather was supposed to hit.  The various weather experts had different opinions, even on the same sites.  I figured that we would hear the tornado sirens if it got really bad.  We continued to hack away until the jungle became a backyard again.

After

After

By the time we were done, seeds were already being planted in the mind to make a community garden.  The soil was rich from the vetch and other plants, and new compost was already being formed with the growth that was removed.  The former raised-bed hoophouse would make a great chicken coop (don't tell the city!).  The used-to-be jungle now had mulberry trees that could breathe again, with the vines cut and unwound from their trunks and branches.  Some pecan and oak trees remained to provide a green barrier from the sounds of the car wash on the other side of the fence.  There were several park benches that were spared from the dump when a mega-chain store axed the deli area.  The yard is now ready for summer dance parties.  I might even invite the sun gods.

Needless to say, four hours with a machete was all I needed to bring me out of a tornado-induced slump.  Or, maybe, it was the company of friends with nothing better to do on a stormy day than to organize an impromptu help-a-neighbor event.  It wouldn't have happened without the threat of violent weather.  Thank you, Oklahoma, for bringing me this gray day with some great people.  Looks like we made lemonade, after all.

Saving the mulberries, one twisty vine at a time

Water brought to you by Clouds, Current made extra fast by the courtesy of Wind, and Happy Toes made possible by Sunshine.

After

P.S. - In case you were worried, the sun gods and I kissed and made up.  I thanked the cloud and rain gods for filling the river, the wind gods for pushing my kayak downstream, and the sun gods for forgiving me for losing faith, just because I couldn't see them for a day.  All is right with the world again!