I remember walking into a Brooklyn bar in 2010 and ordering a beer. The choices were predictable: a lager from a macrobrewery, maybe a pale ale from a Manhattan brewpub, and if you were lucky, something from Brooklyn Brewery. Fast forward to today, and that same bar likely has a tap list that reads like a love letter to the borough itself—hazy IPAs from Greenpoint, wild-fermented saisons from Bushwick, crisp pilsners from Gowanus. The transformation of Brooklyn’s brewing scene since 2010 isn’t just a story of more beer. It’s a story of community, real estate, and a relentless pursuit of flavor.
When I started covering beer for this blog, Brooklyn was already on the map thanks to Brooklyn Brewery, which had been operating since 1988. But the landscape was sparse. Sixpoint was contract brewing out of Wisconsin, and a handful of nanobreweries were tinkering in lofts. The idea that you could walk from one brewery taproom to another in a single afternoon was laughable. Now, you can barely throw a bottle cap without hitting a fermentation tank. So what happened? Let’s walk through the shifts that reshaped this borough into one of the country’s most exciting beer destinations.
The Taproom Becomes a Third Place
In 2010, most Brooklyn breweries were production-focused. You might find a tasting room open on Saturdays from noon to four, with a folding table and some plastic cups. The shift toward full-service taprooms didn’t just change how we drink—it changed the social fabric of neighborhoods. Breweries like Threes Brewing in Gowanus and Grimm Artisanal Ales in Williamsburg opened spaces that felt more like community living rooms than industrial facilities. Long communal tables, natural light, and food programs that went far beyond pretzels made these spots destinations for families, remote workers, and first dates.
This wasn’t an accident. The 2010s saw a rezoning of industrial spaces in Brooklyn, particularly in Gowanus and Bushwick. Old warehouses became canvases for brewers who wanted to blend production with hospitality. Strong Rope Brewery, for instance, built a taproom in Gowanus with sweeping views of the canal, leaning hard into the “farm brewery” ethos by sourcing New York State ingredients. The taproom became a place to linger, not just a pit stop for growler fills. This shift mirrored what was happening in food culture at large—people wanted experiences, not just products.
But not every taproom nailed it. Some spots prioritized aesthetics over acoustics, leaving you shouting over concrete echoes. Others leaned so hard into the “industrial chic” look that they forgot warmth. The best ones, like Other Half Brewing’s original Centre Street location, kept it raw but welcoming—a place where you could geek out over a triple dry-hopped DIPA without feeling like you needed a beard and a flannel to belong.
From Bitter to Juicy: The IPA’s Brooklyn Makeover
If you ordered an IPA in Brooklyn in 2010, you were likely getting something piney, resinous, and aggressively bitter. Sixpoint’s Bengali Tiger was a benchmark—a 6.4% ABV East Coast IPA with a firm malt backbone and a citrusy but decidedly bitter finish. Then came the haze craze, and Brooklyn became one of its epicenters. Other Half Brewing, founded in 2014, didn’t just adopt the New England IPA style; they turbocharged it. Their “All Citra Everything” double IPA became a cult object, spawning lines around the block for can releases. The beer was opaque, soft, and smelled like a tropical fruit stand. It was a complete departure from the West Coast bitterness that had defined craft IPAs for a decade.
This stylistic pivot wasn’t just about taste. It reflected a broader shift in how Brooklyn breweries approached ingredients and technique. Brewers started experimenting with hop varieties like Mosaic, Galaxy, and Citra, often adding them late in the boil or post-fermentation to maximize aroma while minimizing bitterness. Yeast strains that produced fruity esters became prized. The result was a new kind of IPA that was less about punishment and more about pleasure. But the haze arms race also led to a certain sameness. By 2018, it felt like every brewery had a hazy IPA on tap, and many were indistinguishable. The ones that stood out—like Finback Brewery in Queens, which often collaborates with Brooklyn brewers—did so by balancing the juice with structure, ensuring the beer didn’t just taste like hop slurry.
The Lager Revival and Mixed-Culture Renaissance
While IPAs dominated the conversation, a quieter revolution was brewing in Brooklyn’s cellars and cold rooms. Around 2015, a handful of brewers began pushing back against the hop-forward monoculture. They turned to lagers—crisp, patient, technically demanding beers that require weeks of cold conditioning. Threes Brewing made a name for itself with Vliet, a pilsner that tastes deceptively simple but demands precision. Greenpoint Beer & Ale Co. (now just Greenpoint Beer) started cranking out Czech-style pilsners and dark lagers that could hold their own against any import. This wasn’t nostalgia; it was a statement that Brooklyn brewers could master subtlety as well as spectacle.
At the same time, a mixed-culture and wild ale movement took root. Grimm Artisanal Ales, which began as a gypsy brewing project in 2013 before opening its own facility in 2018, became known for barrel-aged sours and saisons that drew on wine-making techniques. Their beers often spent months or years in oak, developing layers of funk and acidity that challenged drinkers’ expectations. Transmitter Brewing, operating out of a tiny space in Long Island City, focused almost exclusively on farmhouse ales and Brettanomyces-driven beers. These breweries weren’t chasing trends; they were building a parallel beer culture that valued patience and microbial complexity over hop saturation.
This diversification was healthy for the scene. It meant that by 2020, a visitor to Brooklyn could find a world-class pilsner, a barrel-aged sour, and a hazy IPA all within a few blocks. The borough’s brewing identity became less about a single style and more about a commitment to quality across the board. That said, the mixed-culture segment remains niche. High price points and challenging flavors limit its audience, and some breweries have scaled back these programs as economic pressures mount.
The Real Estate Squeeze and the Rise of the Nano
Brewing in Brooklyn has always been a real estate story. In 2010, industrial rents were still relatively affordable, allowing breweries to secure large production spaces. By 2015, that was changing fast. The rezoning of Gowanus, the gentrification of Bushwick, and the relentless creep of luxury development pushed rents higher. Breweries that had signed ten-year leases in the early 2010s faced brutal renewal negotiations. Some, like Folksbier, closed entirely. Others downsized or relocated. Sixpoint, which had been contract brewing out of state for years, finally opened a physical taproom in Red Hook in 2022—but in a space far smaller than what they might have built a decade earlier.
This pressure birthed a new model: the nano-brewery. Places like Brewery at 4th and 51st (now closed) and Wild East Brewing Co. operated on tiny systems, often one barrel or less, tucked into shared spaces or storefronts. They couldn’t compete on volume, so they competed on creativity and community. Nano-breweries became neighborhood anchors, hosting events, collaborating with local artists, and releasing small-batch beers that never made it beyond a few blocks. The trade-off was financial fragility. Many nanos operated on razor-thin margins, and a bad batch or a slow month could be catastrophic. The ones that survived did so by building fiercely loyal local followings and keeping overhead low.
This era also saw the rise of alternating proprietorships—breweries sharing equipment and space to cut costs. It’s a model that’s worked well in wine country and has allowed Brooklyn brewers to launch without the crushing capital expenditure of a full build-out. But it’s a stopgap, not a solution. The underlying issue is that Brooklyn real estate is inhospitable to manufacturing, and brewing is manufacturing. Without policy changes that protect industrial spaces, the long-term outlook for production breweries in the borough is shaky.
The Pandemic Pivot and Its Lasting Scars
March 2020 hit Brooklyn’s brewing scene like a wrecking ball. Taprooms closed overnight. Draft sales—the lifeblood of many small breweries—evaporated. The scramble to pivot to cans and direct-to-consumer delivery was heroic but uneven. Breweries that already had canning lines, like Other Half and Threes, adapted quickly. Others had to crowdfund for mobile canners or hand-fill crowlers in desperation. The pandemic exposed a fault line: breweries with strong branding and direct-to-consumer relationships survived; those reliant on bar and restaurant accounts struggled mightily.
Some closures were painful. Folksbier, a small brewery in Carroll Gardens known for its traditional German styles, shut its doors in 2021 after failing to secure a lease extension. Lineup Brewing, a women-owned brewery in Sunset Park, closed the same year. These weren’t just business failures; they were losses of unique voices in a scene that had become more diverse. The pandemic also accelerated a trend toward lighter, lower-ABV beers. Session IPAs, table saisons, and crisp lagers gained traction as people drank more at home and sought moderation. This shift has stuck, and you now see far more sub-5% ABV options on tap lists than you did in 2015.
On the flip side, the pandemic forced creativity. Breweries launched virtual tastings, subscription boxes, and hyper-local delivery zones. Some of these experiments faded, but others—like mixed fermentation clubs and limited-release memberships—have become permanent fixtures. The crisis also deepened relationships between breweries and their immediate communities. When bars closed, neighbors became the primary customers, and that local focus has persisted.
Diversity and Inclusion: Progress and Pitfalls
In 2010, the Brooklyn brewing scene was overwhelmingly white and male. That’s changed, but not as fast as many hoped. Women and people of color have entered the industry in greater numbers, both as brewers and as owners. Lineup Brewing (now closed) was a notable example, founded by Katarina Martinez. DaleView Biscuits and Beer in Prospect Lefferts Gardens, opened by Christopher Gandsy, combines a brewery with a biscuit shop and has become a neighborhood hub. These businesses brought new perspectives to recipe development and taproom culture, often emphasizing inclusivity and community engagement over the insular, competitive vibe that can plague craft beer.
But the barriers remain high. Startup costs are enormous, and access to capital is uneven. The Brewers Association has launched diversity initiatives, but their impact in Brooklyn has been modest. The real progress has come from grassroots efforts—mentorship programs, collaborative brews that highlight underrepresented voices, and a slow cultural shift within the industry. Still, when I look at the ownership and brewing staff at many Brooklyn breweries, the faces are more diverse than they were in 2010, but not reflective of the borough itself. There’s work to do.
The Hazy IPA Hangover and the Search for the Next Big Thing
By 2023, the haze craze had matured into something more stable but also more predictable. Every brewery has a hazy IPA, and many have several. The style is no longer a differentiator; it’s table stakes. This has pushed brewers to explore new frontiers. Some are diving into lager brewing with a fervor that borders on obsession—Wild East Brewing Co. in Gowanus is making some of the best Czech-style lagers I’ve tasted outside of Plzeň. Others are experimenting with hop varietals that deliver haze without the cloying sweetness that plagues many NEIPAs. KCBC (Kings County Brewers Collective) in Bushwick has been particularly adept at this, producing IPAs that are aromatic and soft but finish clean.
Another emerging trend is the embrace of local ingredients. Brooklyn may be urban, but New York State has a rich agricultural heritage. Breweries like Strong Rope and Transmitter are using New York-grown grains and hops, and even foraging for wild yeast and botanicals. This isn’t just marketing; it’s a genuine effort to create beers with a sense of place. The results can be stunning—a saison with wild yeast captured in Red Hook that tastes like nothing else. But scaling these beers is hard, and consistency is a constant battle. For every transcendent batch, there’s one that’s merely interesting.
The next frontier might be non-alcoholic and low-alcohol beers. Brooklyn Brewery launched its “Special Effects” NA line, and smaller players are experimenting with hop waters and low-ABV sours. The market is growing, driven by health-conscious consumers. But the technical challenges are real—making a flavorful NA beer is harder than making a 10% imperial stout. I expect we’ll see more investment here, but also more failures.
FAQ: Brooklyn’s Brewing Evolution
What’s the biggest difference between Brooklyn beer in 2010 and now?
The sheer density and variety. In 2010, you had a handful of breweries making mostly traditional styles. Now, you have dozens of taprooms spread across the borough, each with a distinct identity. The beer itself has shifted from bitter, malt-forward profiles to a spectrum that includes hazy IPAs, crisp lagers, funky mixed-culture ales, and everything in between. The taproom experience has also transformed from a basic tasting bar to a full hospitality destination.
Why did so many breweries open in Brooklyn after 2010?
A combination of factors: the 2013 rezoning of Gowanus made industrial spaces available for taproom use, the success of early movers like Other Half proved the business model, and a national craft beer boom created consumer demand. New York State also introduced a farm brewery license in 2013 that incentivized using local ingredients, which spurred growth. But the real driver was a community of passionate brewers who wanted to make beer in the borough they loved.
Are Brooklyn breweries still worth visiting compared to other beer cities?
Absolutely. While Brooklyn can’t match the sheer volume of Portland or Denver, its density and walkability make it unique. You can hit five or six breweries in an afternoon without a car. The quality is high, and the stylistic range is broad. Plus, the taprooms often reflect the character of their neighborhoods in a way that feels authentic, not manufactured. Just be prepared for crowds on weekends and prices that reflect the cost of doing business in New York.
What’s the biggest challenge facing Brooklyn breweries today?
Real estate costs and market saturation. Rents are punishing, and the number of breweries means competition for tap handles and shelf space is fierce. The post-pandemic economy has also shifted consumer spending, and breweries are competing not just with each other but with canned cocktails, hard seltzers, and a resurgent wine scene. The breweries that survive will be those with strong brands, loyal local followings, and the financial discipline to weather lean periods.
Where We Go From Here
I’m bullish on Brooklyn beer, but I’m also realistic. The easy growth phase is over. The next decade will be about consolidation, refinement, and survival of the most adaptable. We’ll lose some beloved breweries, and we’ll gain new ones that push boundaries in ways we can’t yet predict. The haze craze will fade further, and something else—maybe cold IPA, maybe a lager renaissance, maybe a style that doesn’t even have a name yet—will take its place. What won’t change is the fundamental character of Brooklyn brewing: scrappy, creative, and deeply tied to the neighborhoods it serves.
If you’re a beer drinker in Brooklyn today, you’re living in a golden age. Don’t take it for granted. Go to that taproom you’ve been meaning to visit. Try a style you usually skip. Talk to the brewer behind the bar. The story of Brooklyn beer is still being written, and you’re part of it.