Walk into any bar in Williamsburg or Gowanus today and you’ll be handed a list of hazy IPAs, barrel-aged sours, and pastry stouts that reads more like a dessert menu than a beer list. It’s a far cry from the Brooklyn I started covering in 2010, when the borough’s beer identity was still largely defined by a single, iconic name: Brooklyn Brewery. Back then, the craft beer movement was a slow simmer. Now, it’s a full-on boil, and honestly, some of the pots are getting scorched. The last decade didn’t just change what we drink; it rewired the economics, the neighborhoods, and the very soul of what it means to be a Brooklyn brewer.

I’ve spent the last ten years with a notebook in one hand and a pint in the other, watching this scene grow from a handful of scrappy startups into a sprawling, sometimes chaotic, industry. The shift from 2010 to 2020 wasn’t merely about more breweries. It was a fundamental change in ambition, scale, and flavor. We went from a focus on balanced, European-inspired ales to a no-holds-barred race for the most extreme, adjunct-laden concoctions. The question I keep asking myself is: did we gain more than we lost?

The 2010 Baseline: A Borough of Brownstones and Brown Ales

To understand the scale of the shift, you have to remember what the scene looked like in 2010. Brooklyn Brewery, under brewmaster Garrett Oliver, was the undisputed king. Their Local 1 and Local 2 were the height of sophistication, and their Pennant Ale was a solid, sessionable nod to the borough’s baseball history. The tasting room in Williamsburg was a destination, sure, but it still felt like a well-kept secret compared to the tourist magnet it is today.

Beyond that giant, the landscape was sparse. Sixpoint was operating out of a Red Hook garage, more of a cult phenomenon than a public fixture, with their Mad Scientist series of hop-forward, often resinous, beers. You had to hunt for their cans. Kelso of Clinton Hill was a quiet stalwart, making clean, unpretentious lagers and a fantastic nut brown ale. These breweries were the foundation. The focus was squarely on the liquid in the glass, not the taproom experience. The idea of a brewery as a community living room—a place to spend a Saturday afternoon with a board game and a food truck—was still in its infancy.

The Taproom Explosion and the Rise of the ‘Third Place’

The single biggest change from 2010 to 2020 was the shift from a production-focused model to a taproom-centric one, driven by the 2013 Farm Brewery Law. This legislation allowed breweries to sell beer by the glass directly to consumers on-site without a full restaurant license. Almost overnight, the business model flipped. A brewery didn’t need to fight for shelf space in a crowded market; it could become the market itself.

This led to an explosion of taprooms, each with its own distinct personality. Grimm Artisanal Ales, which started in 2013 as a nomadic gypsy brewer, opened a stunning, light-filled taproom in East Williamsburg in 2018. Their focus on mixed-culture fermentation and elegant, often fruited, sours was a perfect counterpoint to the IPA-heavy scene. Threes Brewing, opening in Gowanus in 2014, set a new standard for the brewery as a social space, with a sprawling bar, a coffee counter, a backyard, and a kitchen serving thoughtful food. It wasn’t just a place to drink; it was a place to be. This model was replicated, for better or worse, across the borough. Some taprooms became genuine community anchors. Others felt like cynical, investor-backed boxes with a stainless-steel backdrop, churning out hazy IPAs with interchangeable names.

The Hazy IPA: A Blessing and a Curse

No discussion of this decade is complete without addressing the elephant in the room—or rather, the opaque, juicy, low-bitterness beer in the glass. The New England-style IPA, or hazy IPA, didn’t originate in Brooklyn, but the borough embraced it with a fervor that bordered on religious. Other Half Brewing, founded in Carroll Gardens in 2014, became the undisputed king of the style. Their weekly can releases drew lines around the block, a phenomenon that created a secondary market and a cult-like following. The beer was, and is, undeniably excellent: a tropical fruit bomb with a soft, pillowy mouthfeel.

But the haze craze had a homogenizing effect. Walk into a dozen Brooklyn breweries in 2019, and you’d find a dozen hazy IPAs with nearly identical flavor profiles: notes of passionfruit, guava, and citrus, all from the same handful of proprietary yeast strains and hop combos. The relentless pursuit of the next can release pushed many brewers away from the crisp, bitter West Coast IPAs and subtle lagers that once defined craft beer’s edge. It became a sugar rush, and I often found myself craving the clean, bitter finish of a well-made pilsner. The pendulum, thankfully, has started to swing back, but for a few years, it felt like the soul of Brooklyn brewing was suspended in a thick, murky solution of lupulin powder and unfermented sugars.

Gentrification on Tap: The Cost of a Pint

You can’t talk about Brooklyn’s brewing boom without talking about real estate. Breweries, with their need for large, affordable industrial spaces, became both agents and victims of gentrification. A new taproom would open in a formerly desolate industrial zone, drawing a crowd, which then attracted developers, which then drove up rents, often forcing the original brewery to look for cheaper digs elsewhere. It’s a cycle I’ve seen play out in Gowanus, Bushwick, and Red Hook.

The price of a pint itself became a barometer of this change. In 2010, a $5 pint was standard. By 2020, a $9 or $10 pour for a standard-strength beer was common in many taprooms. Some of this is justified by the cost of ingredients for high-gravity, heavily fruited beers. But a lot of it is simply the rent. Breweries became lifestyle brands, and the price of admission to that lifestyle climbed steadily. This created a tension: were these places serving the neighborhood, or were they serving a new, wealthier demographic that had moved in? The best breweries, like Strong Rope Brewery in Gowanus, actively worked to remain a community space, but the economic pressures are undeniable.

The Lager Revival and a Return to Subtlety

If the mid-2010s were defined by the haze craze, the latter part of the decade saw a welcome, critical counter-movement: the lager revival. Brewers, and drinkers, began to rediscover the quiet beauty of a well-made pilsner, helles, or schwarzbier. This wasn’t just nostalgia; it was a reaction to palate fatigue. After years of being pummeled by intense, sweet, and often cloying flavors, a crisp, clean lager felt like a revelation.

Breweries like Wild East Brewing Co., which opened in Gowanus in 2019, put traditional lagers and mixed-culture saisons at the heart of their identity. Their focus on patience, precision, and subtlety was a direct challenge to the hazy, adjunct-heavy status quo. Even established breweries like Threes began dedicating more tank space to their excellent Vliet pilsner. This shift wasn’t just about flavor; it was a philosophical correction. It signaled a move away from brewing as a spectacle and back toward brewing as a craft of detail and balance. It was a sign that the Brooklyn beer scene was maturing, learning that you don’t need to shout to be heard.

The Ghosts of Breweries Past

No look back is complete without acknowledging the fallen. The 2010s saw its share of closures, each a cautionary tale. Some, like Dirck the Norseman, a brewpub in Greenpoint, simply couldn’t find a large enough audience for its niche, well-made European styles. Others expanded too quickly, taking on massive debt for a new facility only to see the market shift beneath their feet. The story of Greenpoint Beer & Ale Co. is a particularly Brooklyn one: a beloved local brewpub forced to close its original location due to a staggering rent increase, only to later shutter its larger production facility and taproom as the financial model crumbled. These closures are a reminder that for all the talk of community, brewing is a business, and Brooklyn is one of the toughest markets in the country.

What the Decade Taught Us

Looking back from 2010 to 2020, the Brooklyn brewing scene didn’t just grow; it went through a painful, necessary adolescence. It learned that a great taproom can’t save mediocre beer, and that great beer can’t save a bad business plan. It learned that chasing trends can lead to a creative dead end, and that the most radical act can sometimes be brewing a flawless pilsner. The scene is more diverse, more competitive, and more professional than it was a decade ago. It’s also more expensive and, at times, more predictable. The challenge for the next decade will be to hold onto the craft and community that sparked the revolution, while navigating the economic realities that the revolution itself created.

Frequently Asked Questions

What was the most significant change in Brooklyn’s beer scene between 2010 and 2020?

The most significant change was the shift from a production-focused model to a taproom-centric model, driven by the 2013 Farm Brewery Law. This transformed breweries from industrial manufacturers into community gathering spaces, changing how they made money and how people experienced their beer.

Why did hazy IPAs become so dominant in Brooklyn?

Hazy IPAs, popularized by breweries like Other Half, became dominant because their intense, fruit-forward flavors and soft mouthfeel were immediately appealing to a wide audience. The style also lent itself to a culture of limited releases and can drops, creating a sense of urgency and exclusivity that drove massive demand.

How did rising real estate costs affect Brooklyn breweries?

Rising real estate costs created a paradox. Breweries often acted as pioneers, moving into affordable industrial areas and making them desirable, which then attracted developers and drove up rents. This forced many breweries to either close, relocate to cheaper areas, or raise their prices significantly, changing the accessibility of the scene.

Is the Brooklyn beer scene better now than it was in 2010?

It’s more complex. The sheer variety and quality of beer available in 2020 is objectively higher than in 2010. However, the scene has also become more commercialized and expensive. While you can find world-class lagers and mixed-culture ales, the unpretentious, neighborhood brewpub where you could get a great pint for $5 has become a rarity. The answer depends on whether you value innovation and choice over accessibility and a certain gritty charm.