"I was in San Francisco. I was 25 years old," Tipton says, as he remembers the Anchor Steam that turned him on to the world of craft beers.
Swearingen steps forward, holding a shot glass half-full of a home-brew the color of Pepsi. "When I first moved here, to me a good beer was Miller Genuine Draft," he admits.
There's a chorus of groans.
"I'm sorry," Arnett says somberly.
"Then I moved up to Sam Adams in college . . . " Swearingen says.
"And finally!" Oberman interrupts.
Swearingen nods: That was it for him. A few Samuel Adams lagers, and he was hooked on the concept of drinking for taste.
"I don't even like being drunk," Tipton says. "I just enjoy beer."
Some aficionados have beer cellars stocked with dozens of rare brews. Others obsessively hunt down new flavors. Oberman once paid $65 on EBay for a bottle of Thomas Hardy ale, vintage 1980, which he shared with several friends. The taste was not stupendous. But the experience, he says, was (almost) worth the money.
As his basement grows steadily noisier, Oberman, 39, slips out for a moment and makes his way to a large workshop.
One wall is covered with ribbons he's won from out-of-state home-brew competitions. Barley, rye and other ingredients are packed into old kitty-litter tubs. A simple beer takes Oberman about five hours to brew in a series of stainless steel kettles. But he doesn't stick to simple these days.
In one corner of the workshop, Oberman has piled slabs of broken granite in preparation for a Steinbier, or "stone brew," which involves tossing glowing-hot chunks of granite into the brewing wort to keep it boiling. (The ancient process caramelizes the sugars and leads to a more robust flavor.)
Another of his experiments is fermenting in an enormous glass jug, covered by a T-shirt to protect it from the light. It's a light-bodied, sharp-tasting beer known as a Flanders Red Ale, and Oberman has sprinkled wood chips from an old wine barrel into the brew. They're loaded with bacteria that will eat up residual sugars, leaving a crisp, tart flavor.
Oberman plans to let the beer ferment at least a year before he cracks it open.
Perhaps by then it will be legal.
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stephanie.simon@latimes.com
