From a Tokyo picnic to a Danish farmhouse and back again, this is the story of how we left the Japanese megalopolis and ended up in this quiet room brewing beer. Tokyo has a reputation for curating excellent artisanal products from around the planet and we spent much of the years we lived in the city exploring them. At one of our favorite picnics, under the illuminated nighttime cherry blossoms, we opened a bottle of Bogedal. Passing it between us, we both tasted the message the bottle contained, an invitation. ⠀⠀⠀

For the next several years we sought it out for celebrations, spending afternoons (mornings, evenings...) deciphering Japanese addresses, descending into obscure basement liquor stores (wine shops, specialty stores...) to buy whatever Bogedal they had, we never drank it with cups. Their story inspired us as makers. Unlike the majority of commercial brewers they do not use electrical equipment, except to crush the dried grains before the brewing process began. Many times that grain is grown just outside the farmhouse and separated using a 100 year old machine that makes incredible music, its cloth belts and wooden cogs shimmying and shaking the grain to get it ready for brewing. Without the use of electrical machines, much of the work of brewing is done by hand and that hand becomes the hand of the maker.

We brought 10lbs of chocolate to Denmark on our most recent visit to Bogedal and we spent two full weeks of tasting beers and chocolate together. Having other makers as friends is a treasure. Tasting ideas manifest into complete thoughts and sharing them at the table together is a rare gift. Pictured is one such evening at the table - summer peaches from Colorado in a white chocolate and wild yeasts from the Danish countryside in a sourish beer. Years before this moment at the table, we were rambling in the Danish fields talking about the wildness of yeasts and their possible contribution to flavor.⠀⠀⠀⠀

This is what 'gravity brewed' looks like. A clever system of chain & pulley connected to a platform conspire to lift the giant vats of beer towards the ceiling. The brewing of this beer is kinetic, Casper moves around the brewery with intention and rhythm. Using his body to activate a unique process developed over years of experimentation. Using the physical senses to understand the results - smelling, tasting, seeing the effect of changes. Observing the infinite variations that come with any organic process and interacting with them. This process develops for generations and is the foundation of all modern knowledge we have about such ancient ingredients, grain and cacao. The process of observing - gloriously at times and miserably at others - slowly forging the connection to a lineage, generations of makers, of fellow observers.⠀⠀⠀

People began brewing to connect to the gods, Casper explained to us one of the first days we joined him in the brewery at Bogedal years ago. He brews an ancient Danish style of beer, one that has been brewed for generations in farmhouses across time. The variation that is welcomed by his intuition allows for a theatrical flavor that includes a diverse cast of sugars and yeasts in its profile. Beer has been tended to and cared for as an instrument of communication throughout the Nordic regions of this world, much like cacao in what is now called Meso-America.⠀Beer and chocolate transform a table into a sacred place, a place to greet the gods together. A momentary connection to the ancestors who learned to be makers as a way to speak to the mystic, to taste the divinity of nature.⠀⠀

Friendships across borders and cultures can be like pairing ingredients. Developed and complete in their own right, the differences when combined can produce unexpected new worlds. The senses are awakened through the chemistry of nuance. A smell can transform by introducing an unrelated taste and a flavor can manifest new dimensions when combined with an unconnected scent. Much like friends who combine lives and experience, the blend expands our perspectives and when we return to what we once knew completely we find that we do so with new eyes. This picture of Casper, master brewer, was taken during our winter visit to Denmark. Each evening we shared the table with our friends and entered new sensory worlds together through our beer and chocolate pairings.

New words please, as the world of eaters has more access to the global network of makers we find ourselves in need of more defined language. For example, not many brewers also cultivate their own grains or hops. This is a different type of brewer and a different type of maker. One of the things that inspired us to travel and spend time with Bogedal is their curiosity and investment in learning about the entire cycle of making beer. They work with Nordic gene bank varietals and experiment with growing them on their own land right outside the farmhouse brewery. They also grown their own grain for baking the classic Danish Rye bread that the family eats daily. This is a picture of Casper teaching me about how he crushes the grains for their baking. While we lived with them I baked many loaves of bread in their kitchen with these grains, working with a sour starter that they had been caring for and growing for many years continually. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

We appreciate the efforts of makers worldwide to dive deeply into their craft and this means the daily tasks that are the essence of their work. This kind of quiet dedication deserves more description, more words to praise its sincerity and to identify it for those of us who value the difference their effort makes.