beer

What to buy the Sun King worshipper: a one-size-fits-all sweater. For the beer.

Being one of the “it” guys does have its downside. Haters, says Robinson, want to hate. “I’ve stood next to people—who didn’t know who I was—while they talked shit about my beer,” he says.

Reading Michael Rubino’s Sun King feature in the October issue made us thirsty—so we took our growlers to the brewery and got fill-ups of all the current offerings. And we asked Dave Colt, Sun King’s head brewer, to lead the tasting.

Those of you lucky enough to score tickets, remember to come dressed in your best librarian or literary-character outfit!

Whether or not you buy into the marketing, Upland’s award-winning ales, lagers, and sour beers have been around since 1998—part of the original surge of high-quality Indiana craft brews to wash over the enlightened guzzling public.

Bring some hooch. You can drink beer, wine, or malted beverages on the bike, but the HandleBar doesn’t serve it.

If not for the chance discovery of a dusty notebook two decades ago, “Indiana’s most beloved beer of all time”—as beer geeks, historians, and CV cultists call it—might have been lost forever.

The annual suds-and-fundraising event benefits the Phoenix Theatre and featured more than 25 breweries taking part in four hours of beer-swilling fun.

F is for Foraging: Top chefs are joining the search—often in secret locations—for wild edible plants plucked straight from nature (as opposed to cultivated). Tyler Herald of Napolese and Craig Baker of The Local Eatery & Pub are known to incorporate foraged goodies—like wild ramps and dandelion greens—into their seasonal dishes.

1. Connor’s Pub
6331 Ferguson St., 317-255-5039
The clientele at this Irish dive bar in Broad Ripple ranges from hippies to post-match hurling teams. (Hurling is the national sport of Ireland, you kn

As every lounge in town rolls out its pre-Prohibition cocktail list—muddling herbs and berries until their wrists go limp—you get the feeling that it’s no shtick here.

Ordering a cocktail here means sitting back and watching while a dapper bartender in a proper vest and wide-knotted tie tinkers with ice cubes and orange peels. The carefully composed drinks are nothing short of cosmic.

“We restored an icon for the city,” says owner Dan McMichael. “And the city has responded.”

You’ll still find young hipster couples mingling with octogenarians, and councilmen brokering deals over a beer.

The stairway to the 1933 (named for the year Prohibition ended) leads back in time. At the top, waitresses in scandalously small red dresses cater to the suits in a lounge that’s as elegant as it is quiet.