BEFORE THIS WEEK, the last time I tasted Hop ‘n Gator, the fruit-flavored beer from the makers of Iron City, it was spewing the wrong way over my teeth. I know that doesn’t speak well of the malt beverage, so let’s just say that I was young and Pittsburgh Brewing was ahead of its time.

It was 1974.

I can’t remember all the details of that era. Miller Lite either tasted great or was less filling, but Nixon was definitely a crook.

And Hop ‘n Gator, well, that was a bizarre mixture of beer and citrus. It was America’s first malternative, a precursor to everything from Bacardi Silver to Zima.

The stuff was introduced in 1969. It was invented, according to a report in the New York Times, by Robert Cade, the University of Florida professor who brought us Gatorade. Supposedly he fermented his famous sports drink in his own lab and served it for happy hour.

In 1969, Cade licensed Hop ‘n Gator’s production to Pittsburgh Brewing. It was a good match: Pittsburgh Brewing was always known as an innovator. It produced the first snap-top can, the first canned draft beer and, of course, the first can with a photograph of a lovely model who could arc-weld (Old Frothingslosh).

But beer and Gatorade?

The sports drink was designed for Florida’s football squad, the Gators, to refresh sweating athletes and replace lost nutrients. Cade, a renown cocktail meister whom Sports Illustrated once dubbed “the absinthe-minded professor,” apparently felt there was a need to apply the same technology to inebriation.

Like I said, I don’t remember all the details. But I do recall that two cans of Hop ‘n Gator was all I could handle.

I probably wasn’t the only one. Pittsburgh stopped making the brew in 1976.

Thirty years after my last taste, a sixpack of Hop ‘n Gator arrived on my desk, courtesy of Pittsburgh Brewing veep Tony Ferraro. (It’s almost impossible to find in Philadelphia because the company doesn’t have a formal importing distributor these days.) His company reintroduced it this summer, with a nod toward nostalgia and hopes of grabbing a piece of the malternative market.

I confess, despite my last go-round, I actually sought it out. I was curious. Was it really as foul as I remember?

Ferraro said it was the same recipe as the original.

“We didn’t want to reinvent the wheel by coming up with a new product,” Ferraro explained. “We still had the formula, we had all the approvals. We made an initial run of 10,000 barrels.”

I asked him how it’s selling so far.

“It’s hard to tell,” he said. “We’re not putting a lot of dollars behind it. It’s mostly word-of-mouth. We’ve got 12 interns helping us with it this summer.”

You mean, they’re drinking it?

Nah, he said, they’re running sampling sessions in the Alleghenys.

So, what’s Hop ‘n Gator taste like?

Ferraro described it as having “an interesting flavor.”

That was pretty much the response here in the newsroom, too. It’s crisp and yellowish and fizzy but lighter than Coors. The Movie Reviewer, who remembers the beer from all the roadside cans he saw growing up near Pittsburgh, described the flavor as a puckish mix of Sprite and Listerine.

The Muckraker, who will try anything once, remarked, “At first, it’s like tasting beer and soda at the same time. But that disappears quickly.”

And thankfully, I’d add.

Me?

Ferraro’s right. It’s the same taste as 1974.

One sip and I was back on the lawn, face down in the grass. Memories like that last forever.

 Calendar

TOMORROW: Great Eastern Invitational Microbrewer’s Festival at Stoudt Brewing (Route 272, Adamstown). Philly area’s longest-running beer fest (13 years) featuring, as always, German wurst, a jug band and suds from 50 area breweries. This event usually sells out, but often visitors scalp extras at the gate. Two sessions, at noon and 7 p.m., $25, 717-484-4386.

WEDNESDAY: Beer and cheese tasting at General Lafayette Brewery & Inn (6461 Germantown Ave., Lafayette Hill). Cheese from Italy, Spain, France, Belgium, England, Ireland and America paired with brewer/owner Chris Leonard’s excellent range of ales. Taps open 7 p.m., $45, 610-941-0600.

AUG. 13: Friday the Firkinteenth at the Grey Lodge Pub (6235 Frankford Ave., Mayfair). Last time, barman Scoats thoughtfully entertained a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd with video of a raging Olney gas explosion; this time, with 90 degree temps and 100 percent humidity, it’s the inside of his jam-packed tavern that will be on fire. No problem. Cool off with the bar’s traditional Friday the 13th selection of cask-conditioned “real” ale (cellar temperature, no artificial CO-2), including Brewers Art Saison, Sly Fox Pete’s Peerless Ale and Heavyweight Black Ocean.

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of General Lafayette Weizen-heimer.

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THE MAY numbers are in and, despite my best efforts, beer consumption in Pennsylvania is down for the 17th consecutive month.

As reported in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, we’re drinking less than 23 gallons per person a year. That’s about 3 1/2 pints a week, sports fans – the lowest rate since 1947.

Naturally, Keystone beer sellers are getting nervous. But instead of figuring out how to solve the problem, they’re pointing fingers at – who else? – Harrisburg.

The main culprit, they say, is the state’s antiquated beer laws, specifically the one that says distributors are prohibited from selling anything less than a 24-bottle case.

“We have the most obnoxious case law in the country,” says Jay Goldstein, president of the Pennsylvania Beer Wholesalers Association. ” . . . We preach moderation, we’ve supported the change in DUI laws, and then we have a law that says you can only sell a full case of beer. It’s insulting. It’s the worst public policy you could have in this era.”

Agreed, agreed, agreed.

But every year someone introduces a bill to change the law, and every year it gets ground into dust – by tavern owners trying to protect their sixpack turf and teetotalers from the Capitol’s Pennsyltucky contingent.

So, here’s my modest proposal for beer distributors: Clean up your act.

Actually, I can’t take credit for an original thought here. The notion cropped up in – of all places – the Inquirer wine column, where Liquor Control boss Jonathan Newman was crowing how wine and spirits sales were up 7.5 percent in the past year.

“I think we’re converting beer drinkers into wine and spirits drinkers,” Newman told Deborah Scoblionkov. “If you go to some beer distributors, they look like state liquor stores did 30 years ago. They’re grim places.”

He’s right.

Your average beer distributor looks like something out of the last scene of “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” Housed in a tin Quonset hut, it’s dimly lit and dirty. Stacks of dust-covered cases sit on splintered pallets, grouchy clerks crouch behind bulletproof cashier windows, age-old bottles from an extinct brewery await a clueless buyer. There’s no price list. The place’s idea of merchandising is Miss Michelob’s semi-annual T-shirt giveaway.

Admittedly, the whole seedy atmosphere has its appeal. Hunting for your favorite brew without the assault of slick advertising is a refreshing break from those obsequious money-grubbers at McDonald’s and Banana Republic.

And, what the hell, beer basically sells itself, right?

Not anymore.

Goldstein believes kids, raised on Pepsi, leave school with a sweet tooth. Distributors who used to depend on college fraternities to run through kegs and cases now find themselves competing against pitchers of rum and coke.

If you need any proof, look around and count the women inside your average distributor. (Hint: She’s over at the liquor store picking up a fifth of Stoli Ohranj.)

Goldstein told the Post-Gazette, “All we can do is stand there and get pummeled and lose more business.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Instead of standing there, I suggest he and any other distributor worried about the bottom line take a ride up the Northeast Extension to Shangy’s in Emmaus, Pa.

That’s where the Hadian family spent $3.5 million to build the state’s best distributor. I’m not just talking about the 3,000-plus labels on hand. Or the cigars, the glassware or the huge walk-in cooler.

This place is well-lit. It’s as clean as an auto showroom. It’s staffed by people who know what they’re selling.

And guess what: Sales are up by 45 percent this year, according to Nima Hadian, the beer-crazed son of this family of Iranian-Americans.

“Laborwise, it’s insane,” Hadian said. “But in the big scheme of things, this is why we do what we do. My family didn’t come into this business to stand behind a cage with a Casio cash register and move boxes of beer.

“If you want to sell $60 or $100 cases of beer, they should be clean. The glass should be shiny. Boxes are neatly stacked. It’s a lot of work . . . But there’s nobody walking around here with a wife-beater T-shirt.”

Hadian is astonished at how little distributors put into merchandising.

“I was in one distributor near my home, picking up a case, and the guy raises two fingers. ‘Two fingers, what’s that for?’ I ask him. He says, ‘One dollar extra for cold, one dollar for after dark.’

“You’ve got to be kidding me. What kind of way is that to do business?”

Goldstein acknowledges merchandising is a problem in his industry.

“The whole culture of the beer distributor has been held back because we are in the neolithic era . . . I blame it on the state laws.”

He has a point: The beer regs were largely written in the 1930s, and they haven’t changed much since. Just the other day, Goldstein says, he stumbled across an 1899 state law, still on the books, that requires beer distributors to print their name and license number on the side of their horse-drawn delivery wagons.

Meanwhile, the LCB – which is essentially a government entity competing against private business – has stepped into the 21st century, big-time. Knowledgeable clerks, wider selection, Sunday hours, better prices – it’s no wonder customers are giving up their Bud.

Beer distributors can’t blame everything on outdated laws.

This is a business populated by mom-and-pop dealers who have historically earned a decent income just by piling cases on the floor. Now that sales are falling, it’s time to adapt.

Matt Guyer, owner of the Beer Yard in Wayne, says, “You can’t expect distributors to spend millions to fix up their buildings. Most of us lease.”

But he quickly adds, “There are plenty of other ways to grab customers . . .

“For example, we don’t have a TV in our office because I want my guys to be reading up on beer and helping our customers instead. When people come through the door, they know they’ll be welcomed.”

The Beer Yard offers regular tastings for customers to expose them to different brands, and it manages one of the most extensive beer-related Web sites on the Internet.

Guyer, like most distributors, wants Pennsylvania to change its dumb beer laws, and so do I. But even if distributors could sell 12-packs, that’s no guarantee that customers will return.

In the meantime, stop swearing at Harrisburg and grab a broom.

 A sixpack of sales advice

It’s not brain surgery. It’s simple merchandising.

1. Weekly tastings. Want your customers to lay out 60 bucks for an obscure Belgian ale? Crack open a bottle and give them a sample. (And, yes, this is legal.)
2. Home delivery. A case weighs 18 pounds. You’ve got a truck. Get off your butt and deliver the damn thing. Today!
3. Visible pricing. You don’t have to sticker every case, but at least give your customers a hint.
4. Descriptions. Most of your customers don’t know the difference between a pale ale and a weizenbock. Download product descriptions from the Internet and post them next to the cases.
5. Advertise. OK, coming from a newspaper, this is self-serving. But if you want to move that pallet of Czech pils before it goes stale, tell your customers while it’s still fresh.
6. Clean the floors. You’re selling food, not lawnmowers.

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a bottle of Saranac Hefeweizen.

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SAM CALAGIONE makes all those brews that “regular” beer drinkers like to make fun of.

His Dogfish Head brewery in Delaware makes beer with honey and chicory and pumpkin and grapes and apricots. These beers come with the kinds of goofy names – Raison d’ Etre and Au Courant, for example – that Schwarzeneggers pounding Coors Light mock as “girly” beers.

Never mind that hairy-chested beer freaks around the world eagerly await each new flavor from Dogfish Head, that magazines from Details to Money have declared it as one of America’s top three or four breweries, that it once made a beer that’s as strong as schnapps. To many drinkers – the ones who never stray from their industrial American lagers – Calagione’s beers aren’t real ‘merican beers.

So, what are the boys on the corner going to say about Liquor de Malt?

Behind that funny French name is a bona fide high-octane malt liquor. In one of Calagione’s typically zany marketing ploys, it’s packaged in a 40-ounce, twist-off bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.

OE800, move over.

I’ve long given up asking Sam, “Why?” He just jumps in with a manic zeal that goes a long way toward explaining the number of off-the-wall styles (more than a dozen, at last count) produced by his brewery.

“The idea here is always to expand your definition of what beer can be,” Calagione said. “Malt liquor is a style that is maligned, it’s the beat-up stepchild of the brewing industry. It’s always been considered a style that has no merit or quality, it’s essentially promoted by big breweries by the fact that it has more alcohol than other beer.”

Much of the pop in industrial malt liquor comes from cheap corn syrup. The extra sugar converts easily into alcohol.

The problem is, corn syrup really doesn’t give you much in the way of flavor. It’s sweet and one-dimensional, just a bland, buzz-inducing experience.

“It’s just alcohol with no taste,” Calagione said. “We thought we could make it more interesting. We decided to see what happens if you spend more money on your corn.”

Instead of syrup, Liquor de Malt contains actual milled corn – three types, called Azetec Red, Taos Blue and Hickory. As you’d expect, the flavor is fuller. It’s the difference between fresh corn on the cob and a can of boiled Green Giant niblets.

And it contains the appropriate alcohol content: about 7 percent by volume, a bit more than, say, Schlitz Malt Liquor.

It’s sweet but complex, smooth but with a kick. I’d pair it with a takeout Taconelli’s white pizza (extra garlic) on the back porch, listening to Harry Kalas on a hot August night.

Because Dogfish Head doesn’t have a 40-ounce bottling line, workers filled and labeled the bottles by hand. Then, instead of artificially carbonating the beer with CO2, as with most mainstream beers, Liquor de Malt was naturally bottle-conditioned: Unspent yeast awakens inside the bottle and ferments the remaining sugars.

As you’d expect, the better ingredients and time-consuming bottling process push this beer into a decidedly non-40 price range. It retails at $7.50 – a good four bucks per bottle more than, say, Colt 45.

“This beer would make zero sense to make from a cost-benefit analysis,” Calagione said. “But it’s worth it, if only to shine a light on a much-maligned style.”

Dogfish Head is not the first craft brewery to dabble with malt liquor. Over the years, several brewpubs have entered their own versions in the Great American Beer Festival’s malt liquor judging category.

But it is the first to go to all the trouble of putting it into 40-ounce bottles and distributing it around the country.

Indeed, packaging the brew in a familiar 40-ounce bottle and wrapping it, with a wink, in a brown paper bag takes Liquor de Malt to a different level, I think.

It’s meta-malt, a parody lager that pays homage to the original while transcending it in flavor and buzz. It doesn’t mock your favorite 40, but it does ask you: Why don’t you drink something better?

If your only answer is that yours is cheaper, well, at least now you know why.

 Mixers

Two new brews made their way across my tonsils recently:

– Floris Appel Witbier. In red states, they might call beer and apples an unnatural marriage, the sort of union that no civilized society can tolerate. But this brew is from Belgium, a nation where they feed ale to 8-year-olds. And, besides, it can trace its linage back to the 1300s, about 500 years before your favorite fizzy yellow lager was invented.

This version is a wheat beer – cloudy, like Hoegaarden, and every bit as refreshing. It’s as tart as lemonade and – at about 4 percent alcohol – almost as drinkable.

It’s brewed by Huyghe in Flanders, which is better known on this side of the Atlantic for its powerful Belgian headbanger, Delirium Tremens.

So far, it’s available only on draft, which is too bad. This beer would be a welcome addition to any ice chest.

– Weyerbacher Heresy. After all these years, I still haven’t made up my mind about beer aged in bourbon casks.

Part of me says man was meant to drink whiskey from a shot glass, followed by a suitable chaser. The other part of me says, I’m too lazy to wash the damn glasses, let’s do boilermakers.

Heresy is Weyerbacher’s incredibly smooth Old Heathen imperial stout steeped in a used oak bourbon barrel. If you’ve had this within six inches of your nose, you wouldn’t need me to tell you that – the sweet bourbon aroma wafts off the black brew like Sunoco’s finest on a summer afternoon in Marcus Hook.

A couple of glasses in a hot room had me sweating in overdrive; maybe it was the 8 percent alcohol content. But before collapsing, I detected vanilla, chocolate and a bit of fruitiness (figs?).

I’m going to pack a few bottles away till the temperature drops and I dry off. In the meantime, the flavor should mellow.

 Beer radar

The results are in from two of the city’s stranger beer-related contests.

At Monk’s Cafe (16th and Spruce streets, Center City), a slate of brews from Dogfish Head lost to lineup of wines, according to a vote by diners at the restaurant’s Venus & Mars dinner. I won’t go into details, except to say that Joe Sixpack voted the straight beer ticket and even managed – in true Philly fashion – to stuff the ballot box, to no avail . . .

At the Royal Stumble, the annual keg showdown at Nodding Head (1516 Sansom St., Center City), a cask of wit (Belgian white) from Iron Hill was declared the winner.

The event is an in-your-face knockdown (this year featuring Japanese-costumed combatants) in which the winner is the first to kick. Iron Hill was aided by a bevy of pitcher-wielding servers who poured even if you didn’t ask.

In typical wrasslin’ fashion, several losing competitors made scurrilous accusations of vote tampering, but they were summarily dismissed as turnbuckle ninnies.

 Calendar

TOMORROW: State College Microbrewers & Importers Exposition (Penn State Conference Center Hotel, State College, Pa.). Brewers Larry Bell (Kalamazoo Brewing) and Paul Arnott (Unibroue) are the featured guests. I’ll be wandering around looking for the best from more than 50 regional craft brewers. Two sessions, at noon and 6 p.m. $32. 814-353-8426.

JULY 30: Summer Beer Dinner, hosted by John Hansell of The Malt Advocate at the Farmhouse (1449 Chestnut St., Emmaus, Pa.). Taps open 7 p.m. $75. 610-967-6225. *

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a bottle of Victory Golden Monkey.

CERTAIN BEER drinkers could sip the same bottle of suds every day for the rest of their natural-born lives, and that would be OK.

To them, there is nothing better than the familiar comfort of the Usual.

And then there are the Attention Deficit Drinkers.

These are the beer freaks who are always savoring the new, the exotic, the just plain weird. They case tap handles for oddities, drain a glass, then move on to something else. Their palates are like a TV remote control with 500 channels, continually zapping to the next, great taste.

With more than 5,000 readily available beers in America alone, you’d think ADDs would be more than satisfied. But increasingly, their fixation is being enabled with a whole other round of specialty flavors, courtesy of your friendly craft brewer.

These additional brews are known as “one-offs” – one-time-only, single-batch beers, often distributed with little advance notice and sold in only a handful of locations. A brewery may produce as few as 10 kegs of a specific beer, and when they’re kicked, it’s gone forever.

One-offs have been around for at least 10 years. But lately I’ve noticed brewers peppering the tap lines with even more quirky styles.

At Heavyweight Brewing in South Jersey, for example, brewer Tom Baker has been producing a series of beers called OneTimeOnePlace for the past year.

Many of them are a huge leap from the brewery’s typically malty flavors. Its Pegalina Pale was hopped-up ale; Black Ocean was a mild (4.4 percent alcohol), swartz-style lager made with the secondary wort runnings of its popular Perkuno’s Hammer porter.

Baker said one-offs are way to break the boredom of routine recipes.

“I really miss being a pub brewer and the flexibility to make what you want,” Baker said. “When you’re a package brewer . . . people expect your beer to taste the same every time. So we don’t get to try new things all that often.

“For me, the company has become more of a business, and the actual brewing is becoming less and less fun and more and more work. You get frustrated, you even want to throw it in, some days.

“So OTOP has been a way to gain some mental health. That’s been the fun thing for me.”

Some breweries are wary of one-offs, fearing they might dilute sales. At Yards in Kensington, president Tom Kehoe said, “Back in our little brewery [in Manayunk], we did a few one-offs when we weren’t as invested in a bigger production.

“But now we worry that they’ll just take away from one of our other, regular products.”

Indeed, in bars with limited tap handles, breweries often can count on just one. For Yards, adding a one-off could mean bumping its popular ESA from the regular rotation.

For the beer-drinker, there is another downside:

Sometimes one-offs are unintentional. Breweries with bad batches have been known to disguise the off taste with additional hops or other flavors. Rather than dumping the stuff down the drain, they label it as a “special” brew.

But mostly, one-offs are an unexpected treasure to be stumbled upon while hunting for that next great taste. You’re never sure where one will turn up, though your best bet is at a brewpub. Here’s a hint: Always ask your server if there are any beers on tap that aren’t listed on the menu. Often, one-offs are hidden on the pub’s beer engine, the hand pump used to pour cask-conditioned ales.

At Sly Fox Brewhouse and Eatery (Pikeland Village Square, Phoenixville), brewer Brian O’Reilly has been producing monthly varietal India Pale Ales this year. Each one contains a single hop variety. In December, he’ll tap all nine, including an Imperial IPA that undoubtedly will be hopped out the wazoo.

In Harrisburg, Troegs brews a new single-batch beer every six months or so.

Its current offering is Dreamweaver Wheat, a refreshing ale with four different wheat types.

As for Heavyweight, look for Boris, an imperial stout brewed with the help of BeerAdvocate.Com. (Its name is an acronym for BeerAdvocate Original Russian

Imperial Stout.)

Good luck finding it, though. Baker is sending only two kegs to Pennsylvania, and they’ll both be in the cooler at KClinger’s in Hanover.

“The beer is so exclusive and elusive, a lot of people will never get a chance to try any of them,” Baker conceded. “That’s why we usually save a keg for open houses.”

Even better, for the first time Baker expects to package one of his OTOP brews in 750ml bottles. When you’re down the shore this summer, head to the brewery (1701 Valley Road, Ocean Township, N.J.) and grab one for yourself.

Heavyweight will also feature one-offs on Sunday at the Garden State Beer Festival at Waterloo Village in Stanhope, N.J. Tix are $22. Info: 973-347-0900.

   Six notable one-off beers

1. Yards Black & Tan. A blend of the brewery’s Love Stout and Pale Ale, served at a Friday the Firkinteenth fest at the Grey Lodge Pub (6235 Frankford Ave., Mayfair) last summer.

2. Avery’s The Reverend. Brewed as a one-time-only tribute to the sales manager’s grandfather, this Belgian-style quadruple was so popular, the Colorado brewery added it to its regular lineup.

3. Samuel Adams Millennium. Only 3,000 bottles of this high-alcohol beer were brewed in 2000, each signed and numbered, then sold for $200.

4. Dry-hopped Flying Fish XPA. Another specialty that made an appearance at the Grey Lodge, this one – flavored with fruity Simcoe hops – was served at the pub’s Groundhog Day breakfast last year.

5. Dogfish Head’s Mushroom Stout. The Delaware brewery may be the king of one-offs. This one, with portobello mushrooms, roasted chicory and coffee, was made for the 2003 Kennett Brewfest.

6. Bass Kings Ale. Made in 1902 to commemorate the coronation of King Edward VII. Every now and then, a filled bottle shows up at auctions.

   Beer radar

What’s up with imperial stout in the middle of the summer? Brewers usually hold this high-octane fuel for the cold months, but several of them couldn’t wait. In addition to Heavyweight’s Boris, look for Heresy from Weyerbacher, aged in bourbon barrels. The always-over-the-top Stone Brewing of California is releasing a new imperial stout later this month. And Chris Leonard at General Lafayette Inn (6461 Germantown Pike, Lafayette Hill) is putting his big boy on tap this week . . .

Speaking of Easton’s Weyerbacher, its head-hammer Quad, was named best Belgian beer in this year’s U.S. Beer Tasting Championship. That’s the second time it’s won that honor . . .

Two new out-of-town labels are showing up around town: Two Brothers from Warrenville, Ill., near Chicago, is making a splash with its Domaine Dupage, a French farmhouse-style ale, and Bitter End, an American pale ale. Meanwhile, Michigan’s New Holland Brewing has sent us its Black Tulip, an overly hopped but drinkable Belgian tripel. Look also for Mad Hatter IPA and Sun Dog pale ale . . .

Also new on area shelves: Great Divide St. Brigid’s Porter and the very cherry Ech Kriekenbier from Belgium’s Verhaeghe brewery, known best for its tart Duchesses de Bourgogne.

GOP Lite

  “We don’t sell marshmallows or Popsicles. We’re in the beer business.”    – Pete Coors, U.S. Senate candidate, to the Denver Post, on the hypocrisy of a supposedly conservative, family-values Republican using sexed-up, half-nekkid twins to sell beer.

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A SAD, NASTY bit of business erupted behind the Philadelphia beer-drinking scenes this week, and I wouldn’t bother interrupting your pint, only it could have some impact on the future of local craft brew.

Downingtown’s Victory Brewing has switched its main distributor in town, from the small, family-owned Edward I. Friedland Co. to Penn Distributors Inc., the Anheuser-Busch house.

Now, this won’t directly affect price or availability of one of the region’s biggest-selling micros.

But it does have a lot of insiders wondering where Victory is headed.

And the move has ruffled feathers in a community that, for the last 10 years, has been remarkably unified in its support for all locally made craft beer.

When brewers play nicely, it means good things for beer lovers. Competing breweries commonly share kegs and ingredients, they cooperate at beer festivals, and they swap employees monthly. The sharing – whether it’s in refining recipes or improving a balky bottling line – puts a fresher, better beer in your paws.

From a less-tangible perspective, this fellowship encourages the very growth of breweries, helping them take the giant step from mediocre start-up to imaginative risk-taker.

Victory, for example, might never have attempted to brew its powerful Golden Monkey Belgian-style ale if there wasn’t already a strong community of Belgian beer fans in Philadelphia willing to give a local version a chance.

The choice of a main (also known as import) distributor is no small matter for a brewery. The importer, which is not generally open for public sales, sells the brand to other retail distributors, restaurants, bars – even the sports stadiums.

Friedland is mainly known for its portfolio of high-end imports and craft beers. Its biggest domestic label is Sierra Nevada; it also carries Yards, Dogfish Head and Flying Fish, among others.

The tiny company was founded in 1933, right after Prohibition ended, and operates in a rundown neighborhood in the Hunting Park section of town. Its sales staff is small, and day-to-day operations are directed by Eddie Friedland, the well-liked grandson of its founder.

Penn Distributors is huge. Located in the shadow of Roxborough’s TV antennas, it has tens of thousands of square feet in inventory space, dozens of salesmen and an armada of tractor trailer trucks.

In some circles, Penn is regarded as the Evil Empire, thanks to its A-B distribution rights. More than a few bar owners have refused to do business with Penn (which helps explain why Yuengling outsells Bud in this town). It’s so bad, in fact, that some Penn salesmen have been known to print up special business cards that omit A-B’s familiar eagle logo.

So, you can understand that, when a local craft brewer (which made its mark producing distinctly nonindustrial beers) goes over to the “dark” side, there would be some bad feelings.

Victory president Bill Covaleski said his company made the switch because he believes it’ll grow faster with Penn. The company, which is ramping up production with a new brewhouse, is looking to grow by nearly 50 percent this year.

“It’s about protecting jobs we’ve created,” Covaleski said. Friedland, he said, “isn’t necessarily the best partner for growth.”

Nobody begrudges Victory for wanting to grow. But Friedland and his supporters believe Victory wouldn’t have gotten this far if it hadn’t been for Friedland’s efforts in the first place. To them, it’s like the wife who worked long hours to pay for her husband’s law school bills, only to watch him take off with a trophy bride after he makes partner.

“We weathered all the bad batches, all the out-of-stocks, and now they’re leaving us,” Friedland said.

Friedland said he considered fighting, but his lawyer told him there was a 50-50 chance he’d lose. He settled for an undisclosed payment.

“Did I get totally [screwed]? No. I got my financial compensation. But I don ‘t think I deserved to lose the brand.”

I’ve talked to a couple of bar owners who are longtime friends with Friedland, and they say they might stop carrying Victory. Don’t look for some grand boycott, though. Victory has too many supporters and, bottom line, its beer sells.

Nonetheless, Covaleski himself said he’s gotten grief from some of his accounts.

“One person attacked me on my integrity and said it was all about the money,” Covaleski said. “And, yes, in a lot of ways, it is about the money. We’ve got too much at stake for our employees, our families, our business.”

Covaleski also cautions that Penn is just a distributor – it isn’t St. Louis.

Which raises another question:

Why is a company that rakes in millions in sales from Bud Light, Michelob Ultra, Bacardi Silver and, of course, Budweiser, dabbling with a micro from Downingtown?

Earlier this year, Penn picked up distribution rights for Vermont’s Magic Hat (that’s why you’re seeing all those No. 9 tap handles around town). Victory is its first locally made beer.

John DeRenzi, a Penn sales director, said Penn had been looking for a way to get into the craftbrew market for years. “No doubt, this helps us get into places we couldn’t get into before,” DeRenzi said. “We always did some business in the better beer bars, but never a lot. This gives us an opportunity to hit more of the higher-end places.”

That doesn’t mean you’re suddenly going to find Ultra on tap at a funky beer stop like Johnny Brenda’s. But if we’re lucky, it’ll mean you’ll find a HopDevil on Bud-soaked Delaware Avenue.

 Vienna update

On a happier note, I’m pleased to report that Covaleski’s experiment with Vienna Lager is a total success.

You might remember that Covaleski and I traveled to Vienna last winter to research the tradition of this nearly dead red-hued lager. (He also left behind a batch of HopDevil, brewed at the 1516 Brewing Co. in downtown Vienna.)

Last week, Victory tapped its version of the specialty: a rich, almost smoky, perfectly rounded brew. For aficionados of this style, he was shooting for something similar to richly frothy Ottakringer. Victory’s Vienna Lager is a bit beefier (6.6 percent alcohol), but you could down two or three with no problem.

It’s available at Victory’s brewpub (420 Acorn Lane, Downingtown) and, in coming weeks, at Abbaye (3rd and Fairmount, Northern Liberties) . . .

 Beer radar

Though the Phillies’ new ballpark offers an excellent variety of local craft beers, they do tend to lean toward the lighter lager side. If you insist on something hoppier, here are some quick hints: Victory HopDevil IPA is available by bottle on Ashburn Alley. And the taps labeled Yards Philly Extra (Section 134 down the third-base line) are actually pouring the perfectly balanced Yards ESA . . . Speaking of Yards, give its Philadelphia Pale Ale another try. The recipe has changed, with a hops-heavy aroma you might’ve expected to find on the West Coast.

The July edition of Men’s Journal lists its 10 top American specialty beers. Victory Prima Pils finishes second, behind Oregon’s Deschutes Mirror Pond Pale Ale. Incredibly, the flat abdomen-obsessed fitness mag named the carb-laden Dogfish Head Worldwide Stout No. 6 . . .

 Calendar

June 19: Brew at the Zoo, a tasting at Elmwood Park Zoo in Norristown. Twenty local craft brewers with food, music and prizes. OK, drinking with the apes might not be anything new (see your average Eagles pre-game tailgater), but this time it’s for a good cause: Proceeds go to the United Mitochondrial Disease Foundation. Maybe you’ll even get to see a real live dogfish. Taps open, 5:30-9:30 p.m., $35, 412-793-8077.

June 23: Beers, Blues & BBQ in the courtyard at Marathon Grill on Commerce Square (2001 Market St., Center City). Sponsored by Binge, a social-club for “amateur epicures,” the party features food, music and summer ales. Suds flow, 6-9 p.m., $30 ($35 at the door), 215-731-2000.

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of Bear Republic Hop Rod Rye.

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Until Tria opened its doors, I thought the best cheese and beer restaurant in Philadelphia was Jim’s Steaks at 4th and South: Mouth-watering cheesesteaks and plenty of cold beers in the cooler to wash them down.

But Tria is something completely different. The trendy little room is a celebration of funky fermentation, with a menu that explores the wide range of the tastes and scents that erupt when you let nature do its thing.

In other words, this is not your father’s Ballantine and Cheese Doodles.

For the record, wine is the third leg of this trio. I imagine that, under the right circumstances, I might stumble over the proper red to complement a slab of aged Gouda.

But for me, beer is the better accompaniment to these sharp, in-your-face flavors. Cheese is farmer’s food; it is fun and full and hearty – just like beer. As brewer Garrett Oliver notes in his book, “The Brewmaster’s Table,” beer “can find such harmony with cheese that you won’t know where the beer ends and the cheese begins.”

This is where Tria shines.

Owner Jon Myerow has put together a glorious list of two dozen brews to pair with your dairy selection. As with the cheeses, the list offers a wide range of exotic tastes – no drab industrial lagers, and certainly no light beer. You’ll find a white ale from Japan, a porter from Kensington, a cherry beer from Belgium, a 5-year-old vintage ale from England.

“Basically, I started with the kinds of beers I’d want to drink with food,” Myerow told me. “But if I used only my own tastes, it would probably be all Belgian beers.”

So, in addition to a healthy sprinkling of Belgian classics, the menu includes world-classic offerings from Germany and Britain, as well as local micros. More notable is that Tria does not waste any valuable cooler space on common premium standbys like Hoegaarden and Guinness. “You can buy them everywhere else,” Myerow reasoned. If I have any complaints, it’s that the menu doesn’t offer suggestions on which beer might match well with specific cheeses.

Does the powerfully hoppy Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA go well with the aged pecorino tartufello? What’s best with Stanser Schafkase sheep’s milk cheese – Unibroue Epherme or Bell’s Kalamazoo Stout?

Good questions. When I find out (say, after another 10 or 20 visits), I’ll let you know.

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GOOD NEWS FOR obsessive-compulsives who save their bottlecaps.

(And, strange as it sounds, there are more of these sad cases out there than you might think, frantically separating them by beer type, stacking them in perfectly symmetrical piles, cataloging them in Excel spreadsheets, counting them over and over again into the wee hours of the morning . . . Sigh.)

Troegs Brewing Co. of Harrisburg will provide a unique diversion this summer with its Art of Drinking Troegs contest.

The challenge is to create any piece of artwork that somehow uses Troegs bottlecaps. The winner gets a custom-made bar stocked with Troegs.

The contest isn’t exactly a relief for OCDs (though, it’s OK to use other breweries’ caps, as long as they’re upside down). Brewer Chris Trogner said it’s intended to get beer drinkers thinking more about the merits of hand-crafted design.

“We were just trying to figure ways to tie ourselves with other people who are hand-crafting something,” Trogner said. After seeing what a local furniture builder did with the brewery’s new bar, he said, “We decided a hand-crafted bar goes well with hand-crafted beer.”

So, what kind of art can you do with a couple of hundred bottlecaps?

“We really don’t want to limit creativity,” Trogner said, which sounds like another way of saying he doesn’t have a clue.

Anyway, the deadline is Sept. 30. Take a picture of your work and send it to info@troegs.com. Rules are at www.troegs.com.

By the way: Here’s a simple trick for removing bottlecaps without bending them with your church key: Place a nickel on top of the cap before opening.

 Beer radar

Speaking of Troegs, the brewery will release its latest single-batch ale at the upcoming Harrisburg Brewers Fest (June 19, call 717-232-1297 for info). It’s Dreamweaver Wheat, a cross between a Belgian wit and a German hefeweizen with the same yeast strains used in last winter’s popular Mad Elf . . .

One of my favorite beer-drinking events is around the corner: the USPRO Cycling Championship. You can rub shoulders with the cyclists and down a brew next Friday at the Manayunk Brewing Co. (4120 Main St., Manayunk) from 7:30 to 9 p.m. It’s a great way to tune up for the big race on the following Sunday, June 6 . . .

Miller is producing a set of commemorative cans featuring past Rolling Stone magazine covers, to celebrate 50 years of rock ‘n’ roll. They’re big boy 24-ouncers of Miller Lite and MGD . . .

New on area shelves: Pyramid Curve Ball Kolsch, Clipper City Red Sky at Night Saison, Crooked River Kolsch Ale and Lancaster Brewing Strawberry Wheat . . .

My appearance earlier this month on Baltimore’s Beer Radio prompted a number of readers to wonder: When will Philadelphia get Beer Radio? No immediate plans, yet, for this suds-filled show. But co-host Dennis Buettner told me it’s expanding this weekend to Seattle, and “we’re definitely looking toward Philly, too.”

 Worth the wait?

Smithwick’s Irish Ale is finally pouring through town. Diageo and Guinness USA finally cleared up some strange, internal marketing tactics that had kept it from our shores (they felt Smithwick’s somehow conflicted with sales of Bass Ale).

The long holdup prompted thousands of complaints from tourists who’d tasted and fallen in love with the ale during visits to Dublin. I can’t tell you how many calls I’ve gotten from beer drinkers, freshly returned from Ireland, asking where they could buy Smithwick’s in America.

All I’ve got to say is:

We waited all that time for this?

Maybe I’m missing something, but to my hopped-up throat this is a very average import.

It’s smooth, very drinkable – I imagine you could pound it all night without serious consequence.

But cripes, peel off the label and you’ve got a Henry Weinhards. When they offer you a beer like this in an American brewpub, you immediately ask, “What else do you have?”

Ah, but what do I know? No one ever went broke selling Irish ale.

It’s available only on tap, for now. If you want a glass, pronounce it “Smid-ix.”

Yuk, yuk

 From the Internet:

A man goes into a lawyer’s office and says, “I heard people have sued the tobacco companies for giving them lung cancer, and McDonald’s for making them fat.”

The lawyer says, “Yes, that’s true.”

The man says, “Well, I’m interested in suing, too.”

The lawyer says, “OK, McDonald’s or the tobacco companies?”

“Neither,” the man says. “I’m suing Budweiser for all the ugly people I’ve slept with.”

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with Weyerbacher Black Hole.

IF YOU CAN’T judge a book by its cover, can you judge a beer by its bottle?

Grolsch is betting you already do.

In an effort to increase its share of the U.S. import market (currently ranked No. 21 in imports), the Dutch brewery is launching a big-money ad campaign that will focus not on the flavor of its beer, but the bottle it’s served in.

Specifically, that familiar swingtop bottle cap.

In 30-second spots that will air nationwide, Grolsch says the opening of its swingtop is the drinking equivalent of kicking off your loafers and relaxing.

It’s not the first time a brewery sold its bottle first, not its beer (Rolling Rock’s painted long necks and collectible versions of Nude Beer and Three Stooges Beer come to mind.)

But Grolsch’s campaign got me thinking about the wondrous little swingtop.

I confess, I’m not a huge fan of this imported lager (toss it in a bucket with Heineken or even St. Pauli Girl and Beck’s, and I’d have a tough time picking a favorite).

Nonetheless, I’m a sucker for that bottle top.

It’s easy to use.

It doesn’t require a bottle opener.

It’s recyclable, especially for home brewing.

And it impresses chicks (well, at least the ones I hang around with).

Overall, it’s an elegant solution to the age-old problem of getting your beer back home from the deli without spilling it on your pants.

The swingtop is hardly a new concept, of course. It’s been on top of Grolsch bottles since 1897. A quickie Web search shows the original version probably goes back to the 1870s. That was the era when breweries began moving from kegs to bottles and, according to bottle researcher David Tingen, more than 4,000 different bottle closures were patented.

By the early 1900s, the industry had settled on the familiar crown cork. But Grolsch balked at the switch because of the cost of changing its bottling equipment.

“On the short term, it was cheaper to stay with the swingtop,” said Grolsch marketing manager Steve Middelhoff.

It wasn’t till after World War II, as production increased, that the brewery seriously considered switching to crowns. At the time, the swingtops were assembled and closed by hand – an exceptionally labor-intensive process that, at times, required even the brewery’s CEO to join the assembly line.

But by the ’50s, it was too late to switch. “The swingtops had become such a big identity for the brewery,” Middelhoff said.

Over the years, Grolsch expanded its production to include 12-ounce bottles with typical crown tops. (Today, they account for most of Grolsch’s sales.)

But the brewery knew it would be suicide to kill off its 16-ounce swingtops.

The swingtop, said Middelhoff, is “a brand icon . . . The bottle is more famous than the brand. It’s an asset. You have to leverage on that.”

Now that Grolsch has figured how to install the swingtops by machine, this vestige of 19th-century ingenuity is probably here to stay.

Which is good news for all those restaurants that re-use the fancy bottles as vinegar bottles.

But here’s a warning to the creative types who discovered the ceramic stoppers can be used as a makeshift grass pipe: They’re not ceramic anymore, they’re plastic. Smoking from a Grolsch swingtop may be hazardous to your health.

 Thoroughbred brews

Whether you’re headed for Baltimore or going to watch on TV, the Preakness is one of the great sporting events of the year. Cheer for Smarty Jones with this sixpack.

1. Victory Workhorse Porter.
2. Riverhorse Hop Hazard.
3. Colt 45.
4. Mare-dsous 8.
5. Stoney’s, from Jones Brewing.
6. Rolling Rock ponies.

 Beer radar

Much as I’m pulling for the Flyers, there was something about the Tampa Bay Lightning that appealed. Can’t put my finger on it; possibly had something to do with a playoff promo in which fans who purchased season tickets got all the free beer they could drink. But then the team gave in to anti-beer hysteria. So so much for that . . . The drawn-out saga of the Red Bell brewpub in Manayunk continues. Currently shuttered, the pub is now asking visitors to “name our bar. ” (See nameourbar.com for details.) My suggestion: Ye Olde Don’t Hold Your Breath Saloon . . .

Demand for Flying Fish Farmhouse Summer Ale is so strong, the Cherry Hill brewery had to turn to the Lion Brewery in Wilkes-Barre to produce its bottles. The draft version remains Jersey-made, said Fish prez Gene Muller, who adds that the capacity problem should be solved by next year when it hopes to move into a new facility . . .

 Sixpack on the air

Headed for the Preakness in Baltimore this weekend? Tune into Beer Radio – that’s 105.7 on your FM dial – between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. for a gabfest on your favorite topic. Joe Sixpack will be one of the guests.

 Calendar

Saturday – 4th Annual Brandywine Valley Craft Brewers Festival (Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant, 30 E. State St., Media). Music, food and the opportunity to taste beer from 28 local breweries while doing a good deed: Proceeds benefit the Media Youth Center. Tix: $20, $25 at the door. Taps pour: 1-5 p.m. Info: 610-627-9000. *

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of Philadelphia Dunkel (his own handmade home brew).

OLD BEERS never die. They just slowly lose their fizz.

Red Bell, Ortlieb’s, Independence – these favorite Philadelphia beers had a good run, then kicked the keg . . . and still somehow climbed out of the recycling bin for a second (or third) round.

Now, it’s the return of Dock Street.

You remember Dock Street: classy brewpub on Logan Square, right next to the Four Seasons; primo ales, including a world-class barleywine and the powerful Illuminator double bock.

Founded in 1985, Dock Street was the town’s first micro to bottle its brew. It was such a popular icon of ’80s yuppie culture, it made guest appearances on the popular, Philly-set “Thirtysomething” TV series.

The brewpub has been closed for 2 1/2 years. Bottling rights have bounced around town, from investment groups to sheriff’s sales and back again.

Now, the label is back in the hands of Rosemarie Certo, who – along with her husband, Jeffrey Ware – was one of the brand’s founders. And she’s jumping back into the mash tun with both feet.

This month, her company – the Old Dock Street Brewery – reintroduced Bohemian Dock Street Pilsner in bottles and draft.

Dock Street’s old pilsner was, in fact, a world-classic beer, right up there with the likes of the original, Pilsner Urquell. Fresh and clean with a perfectly balanced Saaz hops aroma, this lager was – 15 years ago – perfect evidence that America’s microbrewers could turn out beers on par with the old world masters. No less an authority than beer writer Michael Jackson once declared Dock Street “one of the finest pilsners in the United States . . . as aromatic and soft as the best from Bohemia.”

You’ll have to decide for yourself if the new version deserves such unqualified praise. For me, it comes up a bit short of the original, lacking some of its well-defined hops character. A harsher critic would say it’s been “dumbed down.”

Certo said the new brew has the same “flavor profile” as the original.

I’m not sure what that means, exactly. More telling is that it’s priced in the $17 range – about $5 to $10 under America’s top micros. You might say that means cheaper ingredients; I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and tell you it’s a decent craftbrew bargain.

As was the old style, Dock Street’s new pilsner is brewed in Utica, N.Y., at the well-regarded F.X. Matt brewery. On ice, it’s a crisp refresher; it could give Yuengling Lager a run for its money in the softball cooler.

That’s what Certo is hoping.

“The marketplace is totally different from back in ’85 to ’92, the heyday,” Certo said. Since then, “Yuengling has become the dominant player” in the local draft scene. Rather than go head-to-head with its old flagship, Amber Lager, she said, Dock Street turned to its Bohemian and “made it more accessible in price and flavor . . . ”

“We worked with [former Dock Street brewmaster] Bill Moeller to make it lighter and really, really soft and really drinkable.”

The company press release refers to it as “a crisp, zeitgeist flavor.”

The way the city’s older micros have bounced around (last we checked, Red Bell’s long-awaited Manayunk brewpub was still unopened), it’s impossible to predict anything about Dock Street’s future. Three years ago, the label made a brief reappearance when Ware (who’s not involved in the current venture) tried to revive it.

That lasted about six months.

This time?

Certo, who also operates the Rustica Restaurant & Bar on the Penn campus, seems enthusiastic.

“I was very lost without Dock Street,” she said. “It took me three years to extricate myself from the daily operations of the restaurant. My heart and my mind was always thinking how to get back to Dock Street.

“Just when it seemed like Dock Street was going to go off the face of the earth, we reacquired it . . . Thank God that Dock Street has incredible brand recognition, a lot of local history and maintains a really upscale image.

“Because of that, I have a chance to recapture some of the sales we used to have.”

In addition to the Bohemian, Dock Street will bottle its amber (no draft) at a premium ($25 a case) price. No plans, yet, to introduce any of Dock Street’s other flavors.

 Beer radar

The highly accurate online rumor mill at the Beer Yard (www.beeryard.com) in Wayne reports that those familiar 750ml bottles of Stoudt’s are a thing of the past. As part of taking its 12-ounce bottling operation in-house (previously the small brews were bottled in Maryland), the Adamstown brewery is killing off the bombers . . .

Ommegang, the Belgian-style brewery in Cooperstown, N.Y., is releasing its first draft beer. It’s Ommegang Witte Ale, a spicy white ale intended as a summertime refresher. Brewer Randy Thiel will be on hand to introduce it to Philadelphia from 5-7 p.m. Tuesday at Monk’s Cafe (16th and Spruce streets, Center City).

 Calendar

Tonight: Brewer’s Reserve Night at Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant (30 E. State St., Media). It’s Belgian Madness II, featuring seven Belgian styles from the chain’s brewers, including Framboise, Cassis, Kriek, Tripel, Dubbel, Oud Bruin and Belgian Brown. Taps open 8 p.m. No cover. 610-627-9000.

Tomorrow: Brew Extravaganza at Manayunk Brewery and Restaurant (4120 Main St., Manayunk). Find a sunny spot along the canal and guzzle selections from two dozen regional breweries. $25 ($35 at the door). Taps pour from noon-4 p.m. 215-482-8220.

Sunday: Annual Goat Race & Bock Festival at Sly Fox Brewhouse & Eatery (Pikeland Square Village, Route 113, Phoenixville). Drink fresh Sly Fox Maibock and watch horned animals run wild. Starting gun, noon. 610-935-4540.

May 8: Beer festival at Moody Monkey (2508 W. Main St., Jeffersonville). Twenty-five breweries (and wine for your mother), with food by this Norristown-area beer bar. $45 (benefits Elmwood Park Zoo). Taps open 2 p.m. 610-631-1233.

 Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of Ayinger Celebrator.

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