My father [John Hall] was in the paper packaging business, which was a good business, but about the least sexy business there is. And he was on the financial side, the least sexy part of the least sexy business. In the mid-eighties, the company he worked for was bought by a competitor and he had the opportunity to move to another city or take the early retirement package. He was about the age I am right now: I was going to college and my sister was starting high school. He went out on a limb, for a pretty conservative guy, and decided to open a brewery and a restaurant at the same time, without any experience in either one of them.

In his work life, he’d done quite a bit of traveling. Everywhere he went, he enjoyed the local beers. He always came back to Chicago where everybody he knew drank beer, but where there wasn’t any local beer. It seemed to be a tremendous opportunity just waiting to happen. Then he decided he was going to be the guy to make it happen.

Who took on the brewing?

He hired good old Karl Strauss as a consultant, who helped a lot of people in the eighties and nineties to get their start. Karl led him to Victor Ecimovic (the Third). Victor’s grandfather had worked at Peter Hand [an old Chicago brewery]. Victor was an engineer by trade, he went through Siebel [Institute’s brewing program] and he was a man from Chicago who wanted to brew. So he became the first brewmaster when we opened in 1988.

I was at the time a student at the University of Iowa. My father offered me a job for the summer as Victor’s assistant, or as Victor put it, his helper. He always introduced me: “This is my helper.” I was pretty much the unglorified grunt, doing all the janitorial stuff, dumping bags and cleaning them out, getting the spent grain out and bringing grain in, washing and filling kegs.

So that was the beginning of the knee problems, way back then?

Exactly. It was glorious. It was the most fun I ever had. And the best part was that at the end of the day, we’d made a batch of beer, and we’d go off to the bar and not only be able to drink it, but have all these people say “Wow, you guys made this  beer here in Chicago?” It was more exciting than anything I’d done before. On top of that, I found out that everybody who was waiting tables at our brewpub had a liberal arts degree from a Big Ten university.

Is that where you were headed?

Yes, I was actually an English major at Iowa, with a creative writing bent. Now I write beer labels instead of short stories. They’re very, very, very short stories.

I found I really liked the idea of a family business, so I decided I’d take a year off and see how I did in the beer business. I loved it. I went to Siebel in ‘89 with brewers from all over the world―David Grinnell from Boston Beer, Rob  who’s now in Madison at Great Dane. I had a great class, and a great time, then came back to the brewpub. Victor left in ‘91, and so I took over as head brewer at the pub at that point.

When did you start bottling?

In ’95, we opened the Fulton Street brewery, and that’s when we started bottling and distributing our beer. Then in ‘99 we bought a failed brewpub right across from Wrigley Field and opened there.

How is it working with your dad?

Well, we often don’t agree on things, but the nice thing is, with his financial background, he’s most comfortable sitting behind a desk looking at spreadsheets all day. I would rather poke my eyes out and set them on fire than do that.

So there’s a very healthy division of labor!

He’s not really the technical brewer, and he’s not quite as comfortable in front of the an audience, so I do a lot of that. I’m still very involved in the brewing side and a little involved in the restaurant and brewpub side. He keeps me in line. I have no shortage of ideas of things to do next, but it takes a lot to convince him to do anything new, so anything that we do, we generally have a well developed plan.

Your brewery has changed in remarkable ways over they years. The first beer I had there was Honker’s Ale―which I assume is still your flagship. But it’s a long way from Honker’s Ale to Matilda or Sofie. You had a very traditional brewpub start, but you’ve kept moving forward.

A lot of it is good fortune. One piece of good fortune is a store by the name of Sam’s Wine and Spirits, which is right across the street from us. They have one of the best beer selections, not just in Chicago but in the country, so I got to sample a lot of stuff that piqued my interest. And when I had time off, I’d travel generally to England or Belgium and visit as many breweries as I could in a week or two. I really got into all these different flavors.

One of the great things about a brewpub is that you don’t have to go through TTB [government label approval] for every beer―nothing against TTB, of course. But you can make a new beer, put it on the chalkboard, and you’ve got a new brand. When I took over from Victor, we kept six beers on tap all the time with one of them rotating, I thought, there’s really nothing stopping us from doing a lot more beer than that. Pretty soon, we were on a schedule doing about 40 different beers a year. It became our own little laboratory. We would try mostly ales to start, but with the help of the people at Wyeast and White Labs, we started using different yeast strains and having fun.

It’s so great when you visit other breweries. We’re all colleagues in this. There are not really a lot of secrets. Generally, the more specialized someone’s process is, the more apt they are to want to show it off, which I think is pretty unique in industries.

You don’t swill mass marketed beer and you don’t listen to Top 40 music. So this summer, when plotting your getaway, soak up the best of both worlds and head somewhere with a soul-lifting music fest staged adjacent to wellsprings of spirit-enhancing brews. Here are four such destinations that are melodically and zymurlogically in tune.

Telluride

Located in the southwest corner of Colorado and tucked into a picturesque box canyon―there’s only one road into town and it dead-ends―Telluride is a perennial world-class playground. This former gold-mining town discovered that outdoor sports is the real goldmine. It’s a ski resort all winter long and from the moment the mountain town thaws to the last long day of warmth, it hosts an endless array of festivals celebrating everything from hot-air ballooning to plein air painting, to a gamut of music fests including jazz, Americana and bluegrass. Best of all, this year marks the 17th Annual Telluride Blues & Brew Festival.

Telluride, set into the San Juan Mountains, not the Rockies, has a small airport serviced by just a couple commercial carriers (United, Frontier, US Airways) but driving there makes for a breathtaking road trip. If it’s not ski season, a mountain bike or your own two feet are the best way to get around, or the gondola that soars up to Mountain Village, one of the ritziest enclaves in the country. Just ask homeowners Oprah and “TomKat.”

For all the pizzazz, a friendly local I met at a Blues & Brews past named Lordog (most locals are friendly and most go by one-word nicknames) says, “There three main staples for getting a beer in town and they go from dive to divier to diviest.” Up in the village, there’s Hop Garden (Mountain Village Boulevard), a biergarten with 10 taps at almost 10,000 feet. Down in town, the most craft-centric watering hole is Smuggler’s Brewpub (225 South Pine). The first of three locations including nearby Montrose and Grand Junction, Smuggler’s brews up the (excellently named) Rocky Mountain Rye served alongside meat, meat and more meat (ribs, steaks and the hearty Mountain Burger). The New Sheridan Chop House and Bar (233 West Colorado) on the main drag has been serving drinks at the same location since 1895 (when it was rebuilt after a fire, hence “new” Sheridan) from the same hand-carved bar, making it a must-see/must-drink. For more off-the-beaten-path imbibing, stroll over to the Cornerhouse Grille (131 North Fir Street) housed in an actual house. It’s no wonder Lordog loves their house burger. Here you’ll find local brews on tap such as Ska Brewing from Durango.

Of course, if money is no object and you’d rather not dine with any locals, there’s 221 South Oak (221 South Oak Street) where the $42 Elk Short Loin is to die for. Be aware the emphasis is on their wine menu.

Both to earn these hearty plates and to burn them off, other than shaking your beer-loving mash off at an all-day or three-day music fest, head for the mountains. “The first trail you should hike (if you are new to altitude and not in good shape),” says Lordog, “is Bear Creek. You can hike right from town and it’s around a five-mile loop. The scenery is unbeatable.” For a whole day out, point your boots toward Sneffels Highline, “especially in July for the wildflowers,” he says.

When it’s time to rest your weary head, the budget traveler would do well to check into the Victorian Inn (401 West Pacific Street, rooms start at $118) whereas those with five-star bank accounts would enjoy the new Capella (568 Mountain Village Boulevard, rates as high as $1115), the only stateside branch in this international chain of jet set digs. Of course, don’t overlook the Sheridan if you want to sleep with some history.

Come morning, “if you can’t get behind the wheel,” Lordog suggests you “breakfast at Maggie’s [217 East Colorado].” But if you’re able to motor, she’ll direct you to the Blue Jay Café (22332 Highway 145, Placerville) 20-minute drive down the valley. Since this is Colorado, the breakfast burrito comes with either a beefy red chili or a chickeny green chili, both legit.

Before you leave town, make sure to pop into The Sweet Life (115 West Colorado), a burger joint and sweet shop where many locals have flavors named after them, so be sure to order a scoop of “Lordog’s Candle Scramble,” no matter what’s in it.

And since this is a beer trip, whether you’re driving home or simply returning to the airport, if you head north to or through Montrose, stop in at the tiny Colorado Boy Brewery (602 Clinton Street, Ridgeway) and/or the even tinier Ourayle House down in Ouray (215 7thAvenue, Ouray). If heading south toward Durango, which itself is beercation-worthy, the towns of Dolores and Silverton have eponymous brewpubs.

We went to college in Indiana, where our classmates from Chicago raved about Old Style, the favorite local beer. Old Style is still popular, but nowadays, most establishments offer craft brew—Fat Tire has come to Chicago—as well as the traditional brands. Neighborhood taverns are places to meet friends, watch a ballgame, or discuss politics—all favorite pastimes in the Windy City.

After spending time in those laid-back gathering places, you’ll wish you had one just like them in your neighborhood. Chicago is a beer bar town, but it’s the home of several brewpubs as well. Getting around, both on foot and by public transportation, is easy. CTA “fun passes” are good for a 24 hour period and only cost $5 for unlimited travel on buses and the El, the famous elevated trains.

Goose Island Brewing, the city’s first modern-day craft brewery, is fast approaching its twentieth anniversary. It has two locations with taprooms, and another production facility on Fulton Street. The original brewpub is in the Lincoln Park area (1800 North Clybourn Avenue). The other brewpub, Goose Island Wrigleyville (3535 North Clark Street), is, yes, not far from Wrigley Field, the home of the Cubs. More about them later.

The brewery was one of the first establishments in a neighborhood renaissance. The first time we visited the area, a dozen or so years ago, it was crumbling. Today, it’s a vibrant shopping area.

“The Goose” has several year-round beers, and their seasonal rotation is quite large. So large, in fact, that they invite patrons to get a MBA card—that’s “Master of Beer Appreciation.” Get a card, sample all 64 beers (not on the same day, of course!) and get a plaque with your name on the wall displaying your achievement.

The flagship beer is Honkers Ale, which is also widely available in restaurants and watering holes around town. The other mainstays include IPA, Nut Brown Ale and Oatmeal Stout. There’s a daily cask-conditioned ale to boot. The kitchen serves hearty portions, and the chef adds interesting twists to traditional dishes. The Goose’s beers, by the way, are now available in 15 states and the U.K.

Give Piece a Chance

Nothing about Piece Brewpub (1927 West North Avenue) is conventional. In 2001 owner Rick Neilsen, of the band “Cheap Trick,” converted a roofing company building into a pizzeria, complete with a skylight and a big open front window overlooking a lively street in a neighborhood filled with clubs and restaurants. Inside, modern decor contrasts with exposed brick walls.

Piece boasts a long list of award-winning beers. In 2006, it took home Champion Small Brewery honors at the World Beer Cup competition. And that pizza? It’s a thin-crust style from New Haven, CT, not the famous deep-dish style served almost everywhere else in Chicago. There’s a good lineup of guest taps and an interesting selection of bottled beers, including a wide variety of Belgians.

Within walking distance of Piece is the Map Room (1949 North Hoyne). You’ve probably heard of it, even if you’ve never been to Chicago. To call it famous is an understatement. The neighborhood doesn’t see many tourists except for those on a serious beer expedition. And why not? This small and informal establishment offers one of the best tap and bottle selections in the Midwest.

Blackboards above the bar list the “Beer of the Month,” “Belgian Drafts,” “American Craft Beers,” and “Import Drafts.” Don’t worry: paper versions are available, along with a “Traveller’s Guide,” which describes the various styles of beer, and examples of each. This would be an ideal place to study for the BJCP exam.

True to its name, the Map Room is decorated in a travel theme, with globes, old atlases, and shelves full of back numbers of National Geographic, many of which we remembered reading as kids. The far wall, beyond the pool tables, contains a relief map of Africa but with black oceans instead of blue ones. And no, the beer hasn’t gone to your head: that really is France and Iberia where Saudi Arabia ought to be.

A great deal of thought went into the tap selections. In addition to the better Belgians—bar staff are careful to serve them in appropriate glassware—the list includes Bear Republic Racer 5 IPA, Flossmoor Station Panama Red, and Three Floyds Alpha King, along with Stiegl Pils from Salzburg, Austria. What’s on tap is subject to change and that, after all, is why you come to places like this.

Refreshingly Old Fashioned

Half a mile from the Loop, amid touristy theme restaurants and old-school Irish bars in a district north of the Chicago River, you’ll find the Clark Street Ale House (724 N. Clark Street). It’s an unpretentious, old-fashioned bar, the kind where people from all walks of life can unwind over a pint.

This establishment appeals to beer lovers without descending into snobbery. The emphasis is variety over the sheer number of tap handles. There’s at least one hand pull available too. Unusually for a beer bar, samples are available as well.

The long, skinny barroom leads to an outdoor beer garden in back. There’s lots of beer-themed art on the wall opposite the front entrance, and the TV volume is kept low to allow guests to have a conversation. The menu is good bar fare, and you’ll notice little touches like pint glasses full of pretzel rods set out in front of you.

Clark Street Ale House stays open very late and gets busy in the wee hours of the morning. The staff is very knowledgeable about beer—another big plus. It’s easy to find, too: look for the big neon sign that says “Drink Here.”

Paul is part German American, so he couldn’t resist a visit to Resi’s Bierstrube (2034 West Irving Park Road), reportedly the city’s last surviving German beer garden. It’s located behind the restaurant and has about a dozen wrought-iron tables and chairs and guarded by a couple of sturdy trees. It looks like Brainiac, the villain from Superman comics, shrank a German beer garden to the size of an urban backyard and plunked it down here.

Once we saw the beer list, we knew that all was well. The selections include BBK Kutscher Alt, Spaten Optimator and Lager, Hacker-Pschorr, Konig Pilsner and even Kostritzer Black Lager, one of the first beers from the former East Germany to find its way to America. The food, of course, is classic German fare.

Beer traveling makes a person hungry, so we couldn’t resist a side trip to the Billy Goat Tavern (430 N. Michigan Avenue on the lower level), the establishment made forever famous by the short-order cook on Saturday Night Live who yelled, “Cheezborger! Cheezborger! No fries, cheeps! No Pepsi, Coke!”

You won’t find any exotic beers—though there is a house lager of mysterious provenance—but you will be transported back to the days when journalists were called “newsmen” and alcohol was part of the mix that produced their writing. The now-fading photos of celebrities contain quite a few local media people, as well as sports figures your father—or maybe his father—rooted for.

Besides, if you’re a baseball fan like us, how could you resist finding out the story behind the famous “Billy Goat curse” put on the Cubs?

In its new content, A History of Brewing in Chicago picks up where the earlier book leaves off; initially Skilnik reproduces verbatim the four-part, 234-page original text. Two new chapters chronicle the downfall of the Schlitz brewing empire into the 1980s, emphasizing Chicago connections where relevant. A detailed discussion of complicated merger and buyout transactions involving the G. Heileman Brewing Co. is rendered somewhat redundant through the recent publication of the Heileman history book Brewed With Style (2004), but gives enough additional information to warrant scrutiny. A brief section entitled “Beer and Politics in Chicago” adds an ethnic dimension to beer distribution in Chicago, and nineteen pages are devoted to microbrewing in the city since the 1980s.

Alas, there is also room for improvement. One significant shortcoming of the original work was frequent and obvious pixellation in the reproduction of photographs. In the new book, Skilnik solves this problem by eliminating the pictures: there are no images whatsoever. A section on brand slogans and a Chicago brewery directory have not been updated to include new microbreweries and brewpubs. At nineteen pages, the discussion of Chicago microbrewing is lamentably short, in light of the book’s expansive title and particularly involving the city’s brewpubs (of which mention is scarcely made). In fairness, the microbrewery discussion is refreshingly frank, offering a candid evaluation of why the Pavichevich and Chicago Brewing companies failed and a virtual case study of how poorly-conceived breweries fail to achieve their potential.

The new portions of this book are easy to digest, ensuring a seamless transition between earlier and recent material. As before, the account is presented in a way that holds the reader’s attention from start to finish. Its shortcomings aside, A History of Brewing in Chicago is recommended reading: it nicely encapsulates the many aspects of brewing and beer culture germane to the city and adds substantially to our understanding of its role in this unique aspect of American history.

Naming one’s favorite beer cities is, of course, a matter of opinion, but I tried to introduce a bit of journalistic objectivity by identifying the criteria that would go into a decision whether to visit. No city on Earth meets all of these criteria (well, Munich comes close), but those on my top 25 list ranked high on at least several. Here they are.

• Local breweries. That means microbreweries and brewpubs, because that’s where you’ll find classic beer and unusual new styles. In some cities, historic regional breweries, such as Yuengling and Spoetzel, play a prominent role in the local beer scene. And touring a brewery, be it micro or macro, is a pleasant way to wile away a few hours.

• History and lore. America doesn’t have breweries inside medieval castles or taverns where Shakespeare drank, but there’s plenty of history to be found. Our country is rich in beer lore, ranging from beer barons’ mansions, like Colonel Pabst’s home in Milwaukee, to craft brewing landmarks such as the Mendocino Brewing Co.’s original location in the appropriately named town of Hopland, CA.

• Hard to find beer. Many a beer lover has visited Portland, OR, and brought back bottles of the formidable Adam and Fred, brewed by Hair of the Dog Brewing Co. Likewise, travelers to the Great Lakes region have come home with Bell’s Oberon Ale or Consecrator doppelbock. Beers like these are enjoyable travel souvenirs and a great way to impress friends.

• Taverns. In some parts of our country, the corner tavern is still a part of everyday life. These establishments are what author Ray Oldenburg calls “The Great Good Places,” those places outside the home and workplace where a person can unwind with friends and beer fulfills its traditional role as a social lubricant. The nation’s best beer bars are, in my opinion, those that keep electronic distractions to a minimum and invite conversation.

• Beer festivals. It’s no coincidence that many of the nation’s top festivals are in or near its best beer cities. The Northwest, where the craft brewing movement began, is especially rich in festivals. But many cities not in the top 25 have notable festivals worth a visit. A couple of examples: Cincinnati, which stages the biggest Oktoberfest in America; and Syracuse, NY, where the Empire State Brewing & Music Festival is a summertime must.

• Local food. A beer trip is also an excuse to get out of your normal culinary routine: you can eat when you’re hungry and have fun eating. For me, that means trying such local specialties as Chicago-style hot dogs, Texas chili, New England clam chowder, and a Hawaiian plate lunch. After all, man doesn’t live by beer alone.

• Last but not least, public transportation. We all know the drill about drinking and driving. Besides, there are cities, like New York, where a car actually reduces your mobility. A number of cities on the list have safe, reliable transit systems, and some offer an all-day pass for not much more than the price of a pint.