Cold Iron Brewing
Cold Iron Brewing
Address: 104 South Lowell St, Ironwood, MI 49938
Phone: 906-285-7020,
www.facebook.com/coldironbrewing
Ironwood is a special place in the U.P. Sitting on the border to Wisconsin with its twin city Hurley, Ironwood has a deep history that can be seen today simply by driving through it. Many of its early buildings still stand and the remnants of the iron mining days can be found everywhere. This is a place that always warrants a visit and will take you back to the U.P.’s wild and early past.
The text below is by Jon C. Stott.
In 2017, I decided to drive into Ironwood from the west along Business Route 2, which passed through Hurley, Wisconsin, one of the “hell towns in the pines” during the later nineteenth century. Driving down Hurley’s Silver Street, I counted twenty bars and taverns, some of them displaying large signs announcing that their establishments featured “Hollywood Dancing Girls.” Crossing the Montreal River into Michigan, I missed the turn to Cold Iron Brewing and enjoyed a brief tour of downtown Ironwood. I saw a couple of bars, but no signs for dancing girls. What did catch my attention were signs pointing to the Downtown Art Park, the Downtown Art Place and the historic Ironwood Theatre. Circling the block I noticed another sign pointing the direction to the Belle Iron Trail, a part of the North Country Trail.
Seeing the signs reminded me of an article I’d read about a plan the civic leaders of Ironwood had developed a decade or so ago to make the downtown area more attractive to both the local citizens and tourists who might otherwise pass by on the main route of Highway 2 that ran north of the city. This plan was partly responsible for the creation in 2017 of Cold Iron Brewing, the first local brewery since the pre-Prohibition era. The idea was not only to provide parks, museums, art galleries and hiking trails, but also to encourage the opening of coffee shops, small restaurants, and a craft brewery as “third places” where friends and strangers could gather.
At around this time, John Garske and his wife, Lee-Ann, had spent many vacations visiting craft brewpubs and taprooms around the Midwest and had thought that opening one in downtown Ironwood would be very good idea. They gathered a group of interested friends and began planning. One of the people they talked to was Andy Warren, who also had a plan. “I was in a dead-end job and started making a business plan for a craft brewery. I’d been a home brewer, I really liked craft beer, and I wanted to get out of what I was doing. My wife is from here and through her I met John and his group.”
The goals of the civic planners, Garske and his friends, and Warren coincided and Garske, friends, and Warren began taking steps to form a craft brewery and taproom in downtown Ironwood. They purchased a building that had housed administrative offices of the United States Forest Service, started filling out the seemingly endless forms to be submitted to local, state, and federal officials, began renovating the space and setting up a brewhouse, and chose a name: Ironwood Brewing. It seemed like a simple and appropriate choice. But they ran into obstacles. A woman in Valparaiso, Indiana, had converted her house into a nanobrewery and taproom and had named it after a tree in her backyard, an ironwood tree. The Michigan group had to change its chosen name and called the soon-to-open brewery Cold Iron, a reference to a particularly strong and pliable metal found deep in the earth and to a poem by Rudyard Kipling about forgiveness.
When I finally found the brewery and entered the front door, I was amazed at the size of the taproom. Nearly all of the front two-thirds of the building had been transformed into one very large space, the largest taproom I was to see in an Upper Peninsula brewery. There was a high ceiling with wood beams, and large windows around two sides made the room bright and airy. Big though it was, it seemed to be divided into separate areas: there were bar stools around the serving area, tables low and high, a lounge area, a shuffleboard area, and a small performance space. A backdoor led to a patio. “There are lots of spaces for people to do different things. We don’t just want them to come here to drink beer; we want them to bring their families here for birthdays and anniversaries. We hope that there will be gatherings like weddings, anniversaries, and class reunions. Organizations can hold fundraisers here. And we’re going to have open mic nights, a mystery novels club, and trivia,” John Garske told me. “We don’t plan to distribute our beer; we want people to come downtown, have a pint or two, and enjoy the environment we are working hard to create.”
It was in the middle of the afternoon in the middle of the week when I made my visit. Already a few people had begun to drift into the taproom. Two older men accompanied by a dog ordered beers and took a table near the window. When they sat down, Frank the Tank, the resident “brew dog,” ambled over, tail wagging to greet all three. “They’re regulars,” Garske told me. “Every Wednesday, they come in with their dog about this time for a pint.” Two grandparents and their grandchildren came in. Each of the adults enjoyed a pint, the kids a pop and some popcorn, which they shared with Frank when he came by. A couple of men, their workday over, enjoyed beers at the bar while talking with a few tourists from Nevada, who’d heard about the new brewery and had decided to come into the downtown to enjoy a flight.
“We’re just getting to know our regulars and the kinds of visitors and what kinds of beer they like,” Andy Warren told me. “I’m still getting used to working on a bigger system than I did when I was a home brewer, and I’m tinkering with the recipes, getting the various styles just where I’d like them to be.” At the time there was a crossover blonde, an IPA, an amber ale, along with a couple of other familiar styles. And, there was something different—a gose, the tart, wheat beer whose lineage extends back centuries and to northern Germany. “It’s part of my educational program,” Warren said with a chuckle, “for our guests and for me. I’m pretty new at sours and I’m sure it will be something new for a lot of them. Making and drinking craft beer is an education for everyone.”
When I returned to Cold Iron in 2022, I skipped the tour of Hurley’s Silver Street and I didn’t get lost in downtown Ironwood. But I did have trouble finding a parking spot and ended up a block or so away next to the North Country Trail. I was here specifically to chat with Andy Warren about the brewery’s beers and had expected to find a quiet corner where we could sit. But there were no quiet corners. The taproom, which was filled to capacity, was the site of the party for dozens and dozens of volunteers who had worked at the annual SISU Ski-fest event held in January. It was an example of how successful Cold Iron’s outreach to the community had been and how much the community had embraced the brewery. There was the happy muffled roar of conversations and the occasional outburst of laughter. Several of the guests walked over to where we were sitting to say hello to the brewer. We decided we could better conduct the interview in a storeroom behind the bar.
I asked Andy how things had changed since Cold Iron opened in 2017. “At first, we had lots of retirees; now people of all ages come in and there are more young people every year. At first our top seller was Honey Brown Cream Ale, but now it’s Drift North IPA. We’re getting lots of requests for Hazy IPAs, which are becoming more and more popular. And we get lots of questions, really good questions.” He still gets people asking what he has that’s like (name your brand) light and he has an answer: Porcupine Light. “It’s 4 percent and pretty bland,” he tells me, and then adds with a chuckle, “Just two-row [the base malt which provides the alcohol and water.] “He says that he mainly works making beers with subtle flavors, although “I can be bold if the style calls for it.” And he loves using German hops and malts.
In describing his “six pack,” Andy focused less on ingredients than on flavor. He described Michiconsin Honey Cream (ABV 5 percent) as not too bitter, although it does feature grapefruit notes from the Cascade hops. Corn and local honey create a smooth, rounded mouth-feel with some sweetness and the chewiness of the corn. Mosaic Blonde (ABV 5.2 percent), for those who want more than the basic Porcupine Light, takes its name from the hops which provide a medley of flavors from piney, to citrusy, to “bubble-gummy.” It’s clean, crisp, and light-bodied, with a gentle malt background.
Drift North IPA (ABV 6.9 percent) has some of the juicy tastes and hazy look of the so-called East Coast IPAs. Hops are definitely the focus, with earthy, citrus, and piney notes, while the CaraAroma malts add nutty, caramel flavors. It’s a well-balanced ale, with malts and hops complementing each other. Catherine the Great Porter (ABV 6.5 percent) is a thick full-bodied beer dominated by coffee and chocolate flavors. In one of the brewery’s videos, Andy stands outside on a winter day, taking a hearty swig of the ale. “It’s a good beer for a cold day,” he proclaims and, then, after draining his glass, announces, “It’s a meal in a glass.” Ayer Street Amber (ABV 6 percent) is another hearty, darker, flavorful beer. Special B malts provide caramel, burnt sugar, raisin, and biscuit flavors, while a good dose of hops contributes a flavorful balance.
And, of course, there’s a blueberry beer, Blue Collar Kolsch (ABV 5.6 percent). This one is different. All the other UP blueberry ales I’ve encountered used purees bought from supply houses. This one actually uses local, hand-picked berries that are squashed down, cooked, and then added to the beer during secondary fermentation. Pink in color, the subtle blueberry taste pairs well with the delicate malt and hop flavors of the kolsch.
As we finished our discussion, a burst of applause rose from the audience in the taproom. It was for an important award being given to one of the SISU volunteers. But I thought that if the assembled group had been tasting any of the beers Andy Warren had just described, it would have been equally loud and, certainly, just as appreciative.
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