I remember the first time I walked into a Brooklyn brewery in 2010. It was a raw, cavernous space in a former warehouse near the Gowanus Canal, the air thick with the sweet, grainy scent of mashing barley. The tap list was short: an IPA, a pale ale, a stout, maybe a seasonal saison if you were lucky. The crowd was a mix of bearded homebrewers, curious locals, and the occasional Manhattanite who’d braved the subway for a taste of something authentic. Back then, Brooklyn brewing felt like a secret handshake—a community of obsessives who cared more about hop varietals than profit margins.
Fast forward to today, and the landscape is almost unrecognizable. The borough now boasts over 30 breweries, with taprooms that rival Manhattan cocktail bars in design ambition. The beer itself has morphed from straightforward, style-adherent offerings to a dizzying array of hazy IPAs, pastry stouts, and mixed-culture wild ales. As someone who’s been chronicling this evolution from the start, I’ve watched the Brooklyn beer scene grow up, sell out, and occasionally lose its soul—but I’ve also seen it mature into something genuinely world-class. Here’s how it all went down.
The Early 2010s: A Neighborhood Revival
When I started this blog in 2010, Brooklyn’s craft beer identity was still being forged. The borough had a handful of pioneers—Brooklyn Brewery had been around since 1988, but it was more of a national brand by then. The real excitement was happening in small, scrappy operations like Sixpoint (founded 2004) and the newly opened Brooklyn Brew Shop, which sold homebrew kits out of a tiny storefront. These places weren’t just making beer; they were building a culture. Tasting rooms were spartan affairs with plywood bars and a single chalkboard listing what was on tap. You’d go not for the ambiance but for the conversation—with the brewer, who was probably also the owner, the bartender, and the guy who mopped the floors.
What defined this era was a fierce commitment to localism. Breweries like KelSo of Brooklyn (founded 2006, but hitting its stride around 2010) and Greenpoint Beer & Ale Co. (2014) made beers that were meant to be drunk within a few miles of where they were brewed. The styles were classic, the execution was solid, and the stories were personal. I remember sitting at the bar at Other Half Brewing when it opened in 2014, watching the founders, Sam Richardson and Matt Monahan, nervously pour their first IPAs. They talked about the Citra and Mosaic hops like they were introducing their children. That intimacy is harder to find now.
The IPA Arms Race
Other Half didn’t just open a brewery; they detonated a bomb under Brooklyn’s beer scene. Their hazy, juicy, aggressively hopped IPAs—brewed with oats, wheat, and absurd amounts of late-addition hops—created a frenzy. Lines formed around the block for can releases. The term “hype brewery” entered the lexicon. And suddenly, every new brewery in Brooklyn had to have a hazy IPA, preferably one that looked like orange juice and smelled like a tropical fruit stand. The shift was exhilarating but also homogenizing. For a while, it felt like you could walk into any taproom in the borough and find the same four beers: a hazy IPA, a double dry-hopped hazy IPA, a fruited sour, and a pastry stout. The diversity of the early 2010s—the English milds, the Belgian singels, the crisp pilsners—got sidelined.
I’m not saying the haze craze was all bad. Other Half’s All Citra Everything is a masterpiece, and the style brought a new generation of drinkers into the fold. But it also created a monoculture. Breweries that didn’t chase the trend—like Threes Brewing, which opened in 2014 with a focus on balanced, food-friendly beers—stood out precisely because they resisted. Threes’ Vliet Pilsner became a quiet icon, a reminder that subtlety could still win in a borough gone mad for juice bombs.
The Mid-2010s: The Taproom Becomes a Destination
By 2015, the Brooklyn brewery taproom had transformed from a bare-bones tasting area into a full-blown social hub. Breweries like Grimm Artisanal Ales (which opened its physical space in 2018 after years of gypsy brewing) and Interboro Spirits and Ales (2016) designed their spaces with as much care as their beers. Exposed brick, Edison bulbs, and communal tables became the default aesthetic. Food programs evolved from a lone food truck parked outside to full kitchens serving everything from gourmet burgers to wood-fired pizzas.
This shift was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it made breweries more welcoming to a broader audience—you could bring your kids, your non-beer-drinking friends, your parents. On the other hand, it diluted the focus on the beer itself. I’ve been to taprooms where the beer felt like an afterthought, a prop for an Instagram-friendly “experience.” The best spots, like Strong Rope Brewery in Gowanus, managed to balance both: a cozy, community-oriented space that still treated its cask ales and farmhouse saisons with reverence.
The Rise of Mixed Fermentation
While hazy IPAs dominated the taps, a quieter revolution was happening in barrels. Brooklyn breweries began experimenting with mixed-culture fermentation, wild yeasts, and long-term aging. Grimm Artisanal Ales led the charge with their meticulously crafted sour and funky beers, often aged in oak barrels for months or years. Folksbier Brauerei, which opened in 2017, focused on traditional German styles but also dabbled in mixed-culture saisons that could rival anything from Belgium. These beers were the antithesis of the hazy IPA: complex, subtle, and demanding of the drinker’s attention. They reminded us that Brooklyn’s brewing scene could still be challenging, not just crowd-pleasing.
But the economics of mixed-culture brewing are brutal. Barrel-aging ties up capital and space, and the beers are harder to sell to a mainstream audience. Many of the smaller, more experimental breweries have struggled. Transmitter Brewing, which specialized in farmhouse ales, closed its taproom in 2020. Folksbier shuttered in 2022. The pandemic accelerated these losses, but the underlying tension—between artistry and profitability—was already there.
The Pandemic Pivot and Its Aftermath
COVID-19 hit Brooklyn’s breweries like a rogue wave. Taprooms closed, distribution channels dried up, and the communal spirit that had defined the scene evaporated overnight. Breweries scrambled to survive: some pivoted to canning and delivery, others sold “future beer” through online presales. Other Half and Threes were well-positioned, with established canning lines and strong brand recognition. But smaller operations without packaging capabilities were left gasping.
The pandemic also accelerated a trend that had been building for years: the shift from draft to packaged beer. Before 2020, many Brooklyn breweries sold the majority of their beer on-site, in kegs to bars, or in growlers. Now, even the smallest breweries are canning. This has been a mixed blessing. Cans allow beer to travel, expanding a brewery’s reach beyond the five boroughs. But they also commodify the product, stripping away the context of the taproom. A hazy IPA that tastes transcendent when poured fresh from a tap can be a shadow of itself after a few weeks in a can. And the environmental impact of all those single-use cans and paktechs is something the industry has yet to fully reckon with.
The New Guard: Diversity and Inclusion
One of the most significant—and overdue—changes since 2010 has been the push for diversity and inclusion. For too long, Brooklyn’s brewing scene was overwhelmingly white and male. That’s slowly changing, thanks to initiatives like the Pink Boots Society and breweries like Brewery at the Well, which prioritize hiring and training women and people of color. DaleView Biscuits and Beer, which opened in 2021, is Brooklyn’s first brewery owned by a Black woman, and its beers—like the E Pluribus Unum pale ale—are as thoughtful as its mission. These aren’t just token gestures; they’re reshaping what Brooklyn beer can be, introducing new flavors and perspectives that the old guard never considered.
But there’s still a long way to go. Walk into many Brooklyn taprooms, and the staff and clientele remain stubbornly homogeneous. The industry’s inclusivity problem isn’t just about who’s brewing the beer; it’s about who feels welcome drinking it. The breweries that are getting it right are the ones that understand diversity isn’t a box to check—it’s a fundamental rethinking of how they operate, from hiring practices to marketing imagery to the music playing over the speakers.
The Hazy Backlash and a Return to Tradition
By 2022, the pendulum had begun to swing back. Drinkers, exhausted by a never-ending parade of hazy IPAs that all tasted vaguely of pineapple and regret, started craving clarity. Lagers, pilsners, and West Coast IPAs—crisp, bitter, and transparent—began reappearing on tap lists. Wild East Brewing Co., which opened in 2020, made a name for itself with impeccable lagers and traditional English styles. Threes doubled down on its Vliet Pilsner. Even Other Half started brewing a West Coast IPA called “Green Downstairs” that was a deliberate throwback to the piney, resinous beers of the early 2010s.
This return to tradition isn’t just nostalgia; it’s a sign of maturity. Brooklyn’s beer scene has been through the hype cycle and come out the other side. Brewers are now confident enough to make the beers they want to drink, not just the ones that will generate lines. The result is a more balanced, more interesting landscape. You can still find a hazy IPA on every corner, but you can also find a Czech-style pilsner, a barrel-aged barleywine, or a gose brewed with sea salt and coriander. The borough’s beer identity is no longer monolithic—and that’s a good thing.
The Taproom Experience: Then and Now
In 2010, a brewery taproom was a place you went to drink beer. Today, it’s a place you go to eat brunch, attend a yoga class, or watch a movie. The “brewery as community center” model has been a lifeline for many businesses, but it’s also blurred the lines between a brewery and a bar. I’ve been to taprooms that feel more like co-working spaces, with laptops outnumbering pint glasses. The beer sometimes feels like an afterthought—a prop for the “experience” rather than the main event.
That said, the best taprooms have used this evolution to deepen their connection with customers. Strong Rope Brewery hosts regular “meet the farmer” events, highlighting the local malt and hops that go into their beers. Wild East runs educational tasting sessions that explore the history of Czech lager. These aren’t gimmicks; they’re genuine attempts to build a community around beer, not just a crowd. And that, to me, is the heart of what Brooklyn brewing was always about.
What’s Next for Brooklyn Beer?
Predicting the future of Brooklyn’s brewing scene is a fool’s errand, but a few trends seem clear. First, consolidation will continue. The market is oversaturated, and not every brewery will survive. The ones that do will be those that have a strong identity, a loyal customer base, and a business model that isn’t solely dependent on taproom sales. Second, sustainability will become non-negotiable. Breweries are energy-intensive, water-guzzling operations, and as climate pressures mount, the industry will have to adapt. Some, like Brooklyn Brewery, are already investing in solar power and water reclamation. Others will follow or face consumer backlash.
Third, the line between beer and other beverages will continue to blur. Hard seltzers, canned cocktails, and non-alcoholic beers are no longer fringe products; they’re essential revenue streams. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I’m a purist who believes a brewery should focus on beer. On the other, I’ve seen too many friends dragged to taprooms only to nurse a water glass because they don’t like beer. If a well-made hard seltzer or a non-alcoholic IPA keeps them in the conversation, I’m all for it.
FAQ
What was the first craft brewery in Brooklyn?
Brooklyn Brewery, founded in 1988 by Steve Hindy and Tom Potter, is widely considered the borough’s first craft brewery. However, the modern wave of small, independent breweries began around 2010 with places like KelSo and the opening of Brooklyn Brew Shop.
Why are hazy IPAs so popular in Brooklyn?
Hazy IPAs exploded in popularity after Other Half Brewing opened in 2014 and perfected the style. Their juicy, low-bitterness profile appealed to drinkers who found traditional IPAs too bitter, and the style’s visual appeal made it a social media sensation. The trend has since cooled, but hazy IPAs remain a staple.
Are there any breweries in Brooklyn that focus on traditional styles?
Yes. Wild East Brewing Co. specializes in lagers and classic European styles, while Strong Rope Brewery emphasizes locally sourced ingredients and traditional cask ales. Threes Brewing’s Vliet Pilsner is a benchmark for the style in the borough.
How has the Brooklyn brewing scene changed since the pandemic?
The pandemic forced breweries to shift from draft-focused sales to packaged beer, accelerating a trend toward canning and distribution. It also led to the closure of several smaller, experimental breweries. However, it spurred innovation in direct-to-consumer sales and outdoor drinking spaces, many of which have become permanent.
Looking back over the past decade-plus, I’m struck by how much Brooklyn’s beer scene has grown—and how much it’s lost. The scrappy, DIY energy of the early 2010s has given way to a more polished, professional industry. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I miss the days when every brewery felt like a discovery, not a destination. Still, the beer has never been better. The brewers have never been more skilled. And the community, for all its flaws, is still full of people who care deeply about what’s in the glass. As long as that’s true, Brooklyn will remain one of the best places in the world to drink a beer.