A churning urn of burning funk

According to James Taylor, a churning urn of burning funk is what you are when you’re a cement mixer, baby. Today, we had a 14-man crew of burning funk helping us cement in the holes and trenches we had dug for our brewery’s new plumbing. It was a classic teamwork effort—as soon as the cement started pouring from the truck, a supply line started, guys assigned themselves to stations and jobs, and all the gaps got filled and smoothed over. We were completely done within a couple of hours.

Afterward, we polished off five pizzas from our neighbors at Honeyspot Pizza and killed a keg of our pale ale, Unchained. It was a perfect pairing.

We’d like to thank our great friends: Dave Broggi, Wai Cheung, Brian Creamer, Jack Day, Bill Gerber, John Kuhn, Don Purdy, Eric Rubinstein, Scott Sawyer, Jose Walewski, and Chuck Wilkerson. And an extra special thanks to Mike’s cousin, Erik Denega, who drove an hour and a half from Putnam County, New York, just to help us out.



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