written by Jeremy Storton | illustration by Sophie Barlow

In the fall of 1993, I walked into Deschutes Brewery for the first time. Bend was a sleepy mountain town of about 15,000 people with a well-known ski mountain. The micro-brewing fad had traction, but momentum was a few years off. Still, I was intrigued that Deschutes was a place where one could get beer with color and flavor, and not some giant factory pumping out industrial liquid widgets.

In the early 1980s, Widmer, Bridgeport, Portland and McMenamins brewing companies pushed the legislation that would allow breweries to sell beer directly to consumers, thus breaking down the barrier between artisan and consumer. In doing so, they also showed us how to redefine ourselves through better beer experiences.

In California, circa 1976, when the seeds that would grow into the craft beer movement were sprouting roots, the “Judgement of Paris” informed the world that the American West Coast was a force to reckon with. The ideas started rippling northward—if we could make world class wine, then why not beer? And why not bread, cheese or chocolate?

Oregon wines now occupy the upper shelves. Blue cheese made in Southern Oregon recently won best cheese in the world … again. Oregon beer and breweries routinely take home medals from the World Beer Cup. We may not see it, but we live in the center of the cutting edge of global craft beer culture.

It seems to me that who we are informs our sense of culture. In return, our culture helps influence who we are. But how should we define this culture? And what exactly does that make us? Frankly, I think the answer lies somewhere at the bottom of my world-class Oregon pint. Cheers.