Creating a beer for a Charlotte brewery was fun. But the best part? Getting to name it.
There are a handful of moments in my life that I look back on with such immense pride and/or joy that I can tend to get misty-eyed.
Getting hired to join the staff of The Washington Post as a 22-year-old. The day I married the love of my life. The birth of our wonderful, beautiful daughter. Celebrating my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Running the Boston Marathon for the first time. Completing my first Ironman.
And this fall, I added another thing (just one more*, you might say) to my list of greatest-ever accomplishments: I created a beer for a brewery in Charlotte.
Although maybe I should put quote marks around the word “created.” I mean, all I really did was ...
... actually, you know what? Let me first explain how I got to live out this dream in the first place.
It was August, and my wife and I were attending a charity dinner hosted by a friend of mine, Chuck Kistler, whose father died in 2022 after a long battle with Parkinson’s Disease; who for years has supported fundraising efforts on behalf of The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research; and who just happens to be a part-owner of Vaulted Oak Brewing in east Charlotte.
As such, one of the silent auction items up for grabs that night was something that to a beer drinker is what an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle was to Ralphie. Which is to say it was the opportunity to take the lead, sort of, on brewing a beer of your choice AND NAMING IT.
My wife went for it, thinking it would make a fun 50th-birthday present for me. But at the closing bell, she was only the third-highest bidder.
However, this auction item had pretty clearly distinguished itself as the most popular of the bunch. All three of the top bids were handsome offers. And since Chuck had organized this event to make some money for Parkinson’s research, he swiftly pivoted and told the top three bidders — including my wife — that if they’d let their bids stand, he’d let each of them come over to his brewery on Monroe Road, consult on a beer, and give that beer a name.
SOLD!
What I couldn’t have guessed at the time was that the part that would take the most time and energy was the name.
‘Hops, water, malted grains and yeast’
Before my first meeting with David Carey, Vaulted Oak’s head brewer, I was asked to give some examples of beers that I like.
“YES,” I replied.
But no, seriously: I told them my two favorite styles are 1) pale ales like NoDa Brewing Company’s Jam Session and 2) West Coast IPAs like Triple C Brewing Company’s 3C IPA or the mass-produced IPA that California-based Lagunitas makes. My hope was that they could brew something that tasted more like the latter but was more in the 5%-ABV range.
Now, if it sounds to you like I know a little bit about beer, that’s true — I know a little bit about beer.
I actually know a lot about drinking it. But making it. Only a little bit. Okay, only a very little bit.
In other words, for Vaulted Oak I was going to be a beer-making consultant who would come to the table with only a very little bit of beer-making expertise. I think David could tell that when I came in back in late September and he asked me if I could name the four ingredients that define beer. I think I said, “Um, water, a bottle or a can of some sort, a label, and ... hmm. Wait! Hops? Hops! Right!?”
But no, seriously: “Hops, water, malted grains and yeast,” David told me. As soon as he said each of those, I was like, Oh, yeah, of course. I knew that. I mean, I didn’t SAY them all, it’s just ...
Anyway, David went on to do a great job of explaining the commercial brewing process, as well as a great job of explaining that the batch I was “creating” would yield seven total barrels of beer, or about 217 gallons, after the roughly four-week process of fermentation.
Then he invited me to smell several different hop varieties that he described as being “a lot of the West Coast-y” ones, from which I selected — using what has to be among the more unsophisticated noses in all of Charlotte — three: Cascade, Chinook and Citra.
I couldn’t envision, even after repeated whiffs, the beer it might create. David did approve of the choices I settled on, though. So there’s that.
Otherwise, by large, my work there was done. I would later come back at the beginning of November for the mashing (i.e. the start of the brewing process, when crushed grains are combined with water to create a sort of porridge), but I literally had no other responsibilities as far as “my beer” was concerned.
Oh, except for coming up with that name.
‘We just don’t take it seriously’
Gone for a long time now are the days of brewers coming up with boring-sounding names like Michelob and Heineken.
If your beer tastes like trash, it doesn’t matter what the name of it is; it’ll probably be a failure (not that Michelob and Heineken are failures, but ... as it pertains to, say, local breweries, you know what I mean).
At the same time, there’s no question that catchy names can turn drinkers on to tasty beers that might otherwise have gotten lost in a sea of choices. Names that are ironic, like Divine Barrel’s Beer Flavored Beer. Punny names, like Lenny Boy’s Czech Please. Names that have nothing to do with anything but just sound cool, like Southern Range’s Ice Cube’s a Pimp.
Since opening in an old BB&T bank branch 2-1/2 years ago, the guys at Vaulted Oak have had plenty of experience — and plenty of fun — when it comes to coming up with their beer’s names, even on the occasions when those names are amusing only to them.
“I mean, I know we make alcohol,” says Kiel Arrington, Vaulted Oak’s majority owner, “but believe it or not, there are a lot of serious things that we have to deal with each and every day.
“So ... we just don’t take it (naming our beers) seriously.”
- Rules of Acquisition, a sour IPA, is a “Star Trek” reference (David is a bit of a Trekkie) that also could be loosely interpreted as a nod to the old bank.
- Split Wrench Rye Stout’s name is an inside joke, inspired by a time when they were making an early batch and David had to jury-rig a wrench in order to free a temperature probe that had gotten stuck in the fermenter.
- Get Your Damn Hands Off Her, a New England IPA, and DeLorean Fuel, a pale ale, are “Back to the Future” references Chuck chose — and are part of the “No Roads” series; a portion of proceeds from sales of “No Roads” beers benefits the Michael J. Fox Foundation.
As for the whole let-a-regular-person-make-a-beer-for-them thing, I’m not the first person to get the opportunity.
Chuck says they’ve offered it two or three times a year through silent auctions and, not surprisingly, it’s tended to be an attention-grabbing windfall-generator — in large part, Chuck says, because “they’re like, ‘Aw, I would LOVE to be able to name a beer!’”
They had just a couple of rules for me, before setting me free to name mine. One, “Just nothing offensive,” David said. “Anything that’s discriminatory against any specific group, that’s a hard no.” Two, “Don’t come too close to another well-recognized brand or beer out there,” Kiel said. “Don’t call it Juicy Jim, or anything like that.” In other words, don’t make it a play off an already-popular beer like, in this case, Legion Brewing’s Juicy Jay.
The first, of course, made absolute sense. The second, though? Welp, there went my idea for “Juicy Janes”...
But no, seriously, my philosophy was: I’ll never get this opportunity again, so I really want to come up with something that feels connected to me, as opposed to something that just sounds clever or goofy for cleverness’ or goofiness’ sake.
I also wanted the name to be GOOD. Not one that the guys at Vaulted Oak would make fun of me about behind my back. So a few days after the mashing, I went back over to their brewery armed with a handful of ideas for names that I hoped to get their raw, honest feedback on.
Idea #1: Théoden IPA
Or: Théoden Ale, Théoden’s IPA, Théoden’s Ale.
My why: Let’s just be as vain as possible.
Kiel’s reaction: “I think if there’s intent behind it, you know, for sure. There’s a lot of big breweries that do that. Like Sofie or Matilda from Goose Island, or when there’s a story behind it. Hill Farmstead, they have a whole series of ’em that are really, really good — people stand in line for hours still — and they’re just named after people named in his family, from that farm. So I think a name as the name of a beer, it can work ... as long as there’s a genuine intent behind it.”
Level of perceived enthusiasm on a scale of 1 to 10: 4.
Idea #2: See Janes Run
My why: Back when I was in college there was a book titled “See Jane Run” that got turned into a TV movie starring Joanna Kerns, the mom from “Growing Pains.” And I’m an avid runner. Get it?
David’s reaction: “I like that.”
Chuck’s reaction: “Yeah, I dig it.”
Kiel’s reaction: “Hmm. ... It doesn’t have to make sense to us. If it’s more of an inside joke that none of us get, but you get it, and your friends will get it when they come here and drink it — probably to be honest — better. You know?”
Level of perceived enthusiasm: 5 out of 10.
Idea #3: Janes Addiction
Or: Janes’s Addiction, Janeses’ Addiction.
My why: It’s a play on my last name combined with a play on the name of the rock band Jane’s Addiction.
Chuck’s reaction: “Ohhhhhhhhhhh, I dig it. I dig it.”
David’s reaction: “That (sounds like) a Birdsong beer. All their beers are music-themed; they’re all named after songs or artists and rely a lot on that.”
Kiel’s reaction: “I would probably throw up the red flag of, you know, mentioning addiction. We are making a controlled substance. So I wouldn’t say, ‘We don’t do that,’ but I would just say, ‘This could be something to look out for.’”
Level of perceived enthusiasm: 6 out of 10.
Idea #4: Fit for a King (Théoden)
Or: The King (Théoden) of Beers — although that breaks Kiel’s don’t-play-off-established-brands rule.
My why: My parents named me for Théoden, The King of Rohan, a character in J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy of novels.
David’s reaction: “I like Fit for a King, yeah.”
Kiel’s reaction: “There’s a story behind that. The whole ‘Lord of the Rings’ (reference is) not necessarily something that our beer-tenders or anyone would have to use as a selling point, but there’s a story behind it. There’s intent.”
Level of perceived enthusiasm: 7 out of 10.
Idea #5: The Write Stuff
Or: The Writer’s Stuff.
My why: It connects to my profession but also is a pun that, when said aloud, sounds like it actually could refer to a beer as opposed to just being a random saying, or an otherwise-random play on words.
David’s reaction: “I like that. I do like that. ‘Whatcha lookin’ for?’ ‘Oh! The Write Stuff.’”
Kiel’s reaction: “I like the play on words, yeah. ... Not that we’re going to do this, but when you say The Write Stuff, I can almost envision that on a can. Like, in cursive, in a black (font).”
Chuck’s reaction: “Black and white label, like a newspaper. Yeah, I can totally see that. ... Mmmmm, that’s a good one, too.”
Level of perceived enthusiasm: 8 out of 10.
Idea #6: Just One More*
My why: This is well-known among close running friends to be my catchphrase; my go-to response — which I tend to phrase as a question — when we’re hanging out and they indicate that they need to take off. It’s important to note that this is NOT something I ever would endorse saying to someone who is going to be driving themselves!
David’s reaction: “Just One More does kinda promote ‘just one more,’ which — ... I mean, if it was an 8-½% stout, I’d say Just One More is not a good name.”
Chuck’s reaction: “Well, I like that. And anyone in our running group who sees that is gonna die laughing.”
Kiel’s reaction: “I like that, too. ... It’s fun to say. It’d be funny. It’s funny for a customer. I know it’d be fun for customers to say, for sure. It’s like, ‘Hey, can I have Just One More?’ ... I think you found a winner.”
Level of perceived enthusiasm: 9 out of 10.
‘That would make all of us happy’
They left the decision up to me — and I thought I’d struggle deciding between those last two.
But something Chuck had said to me that night kept ringing in my ears: “Whatever is gonna put a smile on your face every time you see it, I think that would make all of us happy.” Ultimately, thinking of that made the choice easy.
Sure, The Write Stuff probably would have made the newspaper happier, for multiple reasons. But Just One More made me smile EVERY TIME I thought about it. And while it certainly could be construed as promoting “just one more,” I think the core sentiment behind it is what matters:
I love hanging out with you, Friend. If you’re having as much fun as I am, don’t leave yet, if you really don’t have to.
Basically, the idea of “Just One More,” to me, has a lot more to do with the simple notion of spending enjoyable time with good friends and only a little to do with the beer itself. That said ...
I think the West Coast pale ale that bears the name is DELICIOUS. I’m obviously biased, as are my friends; but I will say several left the Just One More release party last week toting $38 four-packs of 19.2-ounce crowlers, and by the end of Thursday night I’ll have been to two holiday house parties at which Just One More has flowed out of mini-kegs that I did not buy.
The Vaulted Oak guys say I should take credit for “creating” it; however, in my mind the amount of credit I deserve for the finished product is about in line with the beer’s ABV: 5.8%. David, I think, gets 94.2% of the credit here.
I’ll happily take full credit for the name, though. My friends do seem to think it’s a hilarious and fitting one — one that makes them think of me every time. It is fun for people who don’t know the first thing about me, to ask aloud for, by name. It looks great on the menu, which describes it as a “dry and light bodied beer (that) will have you sticking around for ‘just one more!’”
As for how long it will actually be on the menu?
Chuck says it’s the busy season for breweries and holiday events, so in all likelihood, the seven barrels of it probably won’t last but another week or so.
The other burning question, of course, is whether it ever will come back after it’s gone? At the mashing, David had said it was possible, but that no previous silent-auction winner’s beer had officially stuck. At the release party, though, Kiel talked about how he liked it so much that he’d taken several crowlers home himself, and Chuck has since suggested they do in fact intend to make it again.
If they were to decide to permanently add it to their rotation and keep brewing batch after batch, it would absolutely be another thing to add to my list of greatest lifetime achievements.
But quite frankly, I’d be pretty darn thrilled if they even made — wait for it — just one more.
This story was originally published December 20, 2023 at 6:00 AM.
