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Four Corners Beer: Colorado
(aka The Great Southwest Beer Exploration - Part IV - The Final Chapter)
Found in: | Inside | Beer |
"In these uncertain times, where do we turn? To beer, of course. To beer. "
Don't you love that term, "session beer"? It's a polite way of saying, "binge beer."
I was a little hard on Utah. Let's face it. I was. It's been weighing on me. Farmington, N.M. too, as was artfully illuminated in the editorial by the owner of the Three Rivers Brewery there. I was wrong. Farmington is cool. I was being an elitist jackass, playing to the hometown. And Sedona, I'm sorry, genuinely sorry. You guys aren't just drum-circle enthusiasts wearing your varied religious robes all over town. And even though it was wrong-spirited (as you might say) to predict that the "U.S. is primed for Romanesque fall" because of your collective fruitiness and indifference to the machinations of industry, I'd still bet that the current economic crisis will ultimately be traced to the ground beneath the manicured toes on your unshodden feet. These aspersions I've been casting are reflective of my inner turmoil and insecurity. Welcome. Welcome to my apologetic tone, disingenuous as it may seem.
That aside, with all due respect to New Mexico, Arizona and Utah, Colorado is bananas for beer. Colorado ranks No. 1 in terms of beer production in the nation. If the other states in the tour are sensitive to what appears to be a disproportionate favoritism in what follows, please understand that the lack of balance is relative to the quantity of beers sampled compared to the other states on the tour, not some homer's elation in sermonizing like some Colorado flag-waiving freak. In the spirit of beer-bipartisanship, I not-so-humbly submit to you that this is the end, beautiful friend, this is the end. Given our current times, let us hope it is merely the end of The Great Southwest Beer Exploration.
Much has happened during the course of this exploration, stuff at least as important as the pursuit of fine beer. Much of it while I've been sitting in your stead, dear reader, bellied up so you don't have to, sacrificing my time and my liver - for you. The Phillies won the World Series as this painstaking research went on in the pubs. An inspirational black leader rose to improbable power while I shouldered on, mug in hand. During the course of my travels I have burned through two relationships (a.k.a. muses), watched whatever meager financial security I had fall into the abyss, lost both Rosanante and Speedy Gonzales (you may remember my affectionate names for my modes of travel), and faced the probability that the gainful component of my employment will come to a screeching halt. It's has left me contemplative, and more hopeful of the unlikely and elusive book deal to expand this to a never-ending pursuit around the globe. In these uncertain times, where do we turn? To beer, of course. To beer.
Pagosa Brewing Company
We started off in my new-for-me Chrysler K Car, Dodgy for short, en route to Pagosa Springs, Colo., and the Pagosa Brewing Company. We were met there by Tony and Julie Simmons. Tony is the president of the company, an accomplished brewer and professional beer judge. Those who have followed the tour know that meeting the owners and brewers is strictly forbidden by the rules governing the exploration. But occasionally the governing body that reviews the rules and requirements of professional beer explorers will make modifications to the often stringent, though seemingly erroneous, guidelines.
Tony said he'd buy the beer and the governing body ceded to his will. The Pagosa Brewery is hidden from plain sight in an industrial neighborhood, which makes it feel like your own little secret. There's fire pit outside in the beer garden, a nice tent and a children's play area. Tony was inspired by his experiences attending brewing school in Germany. Biergartens there all had areas where families would gather at the end of the day to relax and socialize. My son Dylan was with me, so Tony's family-friendliness was welcome. And so were the free beers. Tony served up 12 different styles on a tray as diverse and bounteous as an artist's palette. I'm only going to say this once - go to Pagosa Brewing Company. Endorsements aren't this beer explorer's forte, but Tony's beers are some of the finest I have sampled yet.
Tony believes that "drinkability" is a key factor in evaluating good beer, beer balanced and delectable like fine food. Tony compares his beers to artisan breads baked from the oven to the patron. They're unfiltered and fresh, usually only a few days old because he makes them in small batches.
The Poor Richard's Ale was a favorite among many favorites, a beer chosen nationally to commemorate Ben Franklin's 300th birthday and brewed by more than 100 microbreweries in 34 states. It has the color of a fine mahogany, a subtle inviting sweetness in its aroma, mellow balanced carbonation, and a flavor gentle, kind and worthy of the Mr. Franklin's quote that, "Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."
Much has happened during the course of this exploration, stuff at least as important as the pursuit of fine beer. Much of it while I've been sitting in your stead, dear reader, bellied up so you don't have to, sacrificing my time and my liver - for you. The Phillies won the World Series as this painstaking research went on in the pubs. An inspirational black leader rose to improbable power while I shouldered on, mug in hand. During the course of my travels I have burned through two relationships (a.k.a. muses), watched whatever meager financial security I had fall into the abyss, lost both Rosanante and Speedy Gonzales (you may remember my affectionate names for my modes of travel), and faced the probability that the gainful component of my employment will come to a screeching halt. It's has left me contemplative, and more hopeful of the unlikely and elusive book deal to expand this to a never-ending pursuit around the globe. In these uncertain times, where do we turn? To beer, of course. To beer.
Pagosa Brewing Company
We started off in my new-for-me Chrysler K Car, Dodgy for short, en route to Pagosa Springs, Colo., and the Pagosa Brewing Company. We were met there by Tony and Julie Simmons. Tony is the president of the company, an accomplished brewer and professional beer judge. Those who have followed the tour know that meeting the owners and brewers is strictly forbidden by the rules governing the exploration. But occasionally the governing body that reviews the rules and requirements of professional beer explorers will make modifications to the often stringent, though seemingly erroneous, guidelines.
Tony said he'd buy the beer and the governing body ceded to his will. The Pagosa Brewery is hidden from plain sight in an industrial neighborhood, which makes it feel like your own little secret. There's fire pit outside in the beer garden, a nice tent and a children's play area. Tony was inspired by his experiences attending brewing school in Germany. Biergartens there all had areas where families would gather at the end of the day to relax and socialize. My son Dylan was with me, so Tony's family-friendliness was welcome. And so were the free beers. Tony served up 12 different styles on a tray as diverse and bounteous as an artist's palette. I'm only going to say this once - go to Pagosa Brewing Company. Endorsements aren't this beer explorer's forte, but Tony's beers are some of the finest I have sampled yet.
Tony believes that "drinkability" is a key factor in evaluating good beer, beer balanced and delectable like fine food. Tony compares his beers to artisan breads baked from the oven to the patron. They're unfiltered and fresh, usually only a few days old because he makes them in small batches.
The Poor Richard's Ale was a favorite among many favorites, a beer chosen nationally to commemorate Ben Franklin's 300th birthday and brewed by more than 100 microbreweries in 34 states. It has the color of a fine mahogany, a subtle inviting sweetness in its aroma, mellow balanced carbonation, and a flavor gentle, kind and worthy of the Mr. Franklin's quote that, "Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."
Carver Brewing Company
I headed to Durango to see if I could figure out why a town of roughly 15,000 people would need four well-established breweries. If you're looking for a beautiful small mountain town with possibly the most diverse per capita craft-beer, Durango is your town, as it is mine.
We begin where it all began for this writer. With fake ID in hand, I would visit Carver Brewing Company, as an under-age college student (sorry Carvers, but it was 20 years ago and I think the statute of limitations has expired for us both). There I would eat their delectable fresh-baked Navajo Tacos and sip on several Raspberry Wheat beers.
Nothing, for me, has changed. I still eat Navajo Tacos anytime my mind is inclined toward one and the Raspberry Wheat is its time-honored accompaniment. I've lived many places, and often found myself pining and reminiscent for Carvers beer and food, a place I would immediately visit upon returning to Durango before any other. And if I would arrive in town at breakfast time, a Raspberry Wheat would accompany one of their fine breakfast burritos without hesitation.
Carvers makes my life good. So, you don't like fruity beers, you say? C'mon macho man (or macha), try a Raspberry Wheat. It's made with real mountain berries that impart a rich cosmopolitan color (If that doesn't tame your masculinity, I don't know what will). The flavor is off-the-charts raspberry, the raspberry bush you stumbled upon near the peak of some giant mountain, energy sapped and ready to concede, grateful like a sweet-toothed child to a fruit that is made to grow in high places. Carvers was the first and it's the quintessential. I bow to it. I'm bowing now.
I headed to Durango to see if I could figure out why a town of roughly 15,000 people would need four well-established breweries. If you're looking for a beautiful small mountain town with possibly the most diverse per capita craft-beer, Durango is your town, as it is mine.
We begin where it all began for this writer. With fake ID in hand, I would visit Carver Brewing Company, as an under-age college student (sorry Carvers, but it was 20 years ago and I think the statute of limitations has expired for us both). There I would eat their delectable fresh-baked Navajo Tacos and sip on several Raspberry Wheat beers.
Nothing, for me, has changed. I still eat Navajo Tacos anytime my mind is inclined toward one and the Raspberry Wheat is its time-honored accompaniment. I've lived many places, and often found myself pining and reminiscent for Carvers beer and food, a place I would immediately visit upon returning to Durango before any other. And if I would arrive in town at breakfast time, a Raspberry Wheat would accompany one of their fine breakfast burritos without hesitation.
Carvers makes my life good. So, you don't like fruity beers, you say? C'mon macho man (or macha), try a Raspberry Wheat. It's made with real mountain berries that impart a rich cosmopolitan color (If that doesn't tame your masculinity, I don't know what will). The flavor is off-the-charts raspberry, the raspberry bush you stumbled upon near the peak of some giant mountain, energy sapped and ready to concede, grateful like a sweet-toothed child to a fruit that is made to grow in high places. Carvers was the first and it's the quintessential. I bow to it. I'm bowing now.
Durango Brewing Company
Durango Brewing Company's Durango Dark Lager was my only shift drink for years as a bartender. The dense opaqueness of this charismatic and consistent beer matched my mood at the time, with complex balanced hop and malt characteristics, and was always a welcome respite from a day of pretend smiles and requisite bar banter. It's a dark beer you can drink, a comfort beer, and my favorite session beer. Don't you love that term, "session beer?" It's a polite way of saying, "binge beer." Durango Brewing Company has a fairly new tasting room in Durango outfitted like a railway relic in concert with its train associated label and past. The night I visited, they had a good band and I grilled one of the local James Ranch burgers in their indoor grill room. The whole setup invites conversation with other patrons, as grilling leads to chatter, if the drinking hasn't already. This stalwart of the micro-brew community in Colorado now has an outlet worthy of their excellent beers.
Durango Brewing Company's Durango Dark Lager was my only shift drink for years as a bartender. The dense opaqueness of this charismatic and consistent beer matched my mood at the time, with complex balanced hop and malt characteristics, and was always a welcome respite from a day of pretend smiles and requisite bar banter. It's a dark beer you can drink, a comfort beer, and my favorite session beer. Don't you love that term, "session beer?" It's a polite way of saying, "binge beer." Durango Brewing Company has a fairly new tasting room in Durango outfitted like a railway relic in concert with its train associated label and past. The night I visited, they had a good band and I grilled one of the local James Ranch burgers in their indoor grill room. The whole setup invites conversation with other patrons, as grilling leads to chatter, if the drinking hasn't already. This stalwart of the micro-brew community in Colorado now has an outlet worthy of their excellent beers.
Steamworks Brewing Company
If you're in the mood for beers accompanied by the smaller members of your family, and you're in Durango or Bayfield, Steamworks is your place. Steamworks was born into an historic automotive building in the heart of the historic district in Durango, and has a cavernous industrial feel. Cement floors invite chalk art and peanut shells, a kid's fantasy come true. And the Steamworks folks have been producing award-winning beers and good comfort food for some time now. On my recent visit, I heralded the Third Eye Pale Ale, one of their four always-tapped beers, as that night's champion, though there were five runner-ups. On the tour I've come to appreciate the mind-altering powers of the sticky resinous hops plant, and this beer is like a gateway-brew to the bitter side of beer. The hops kick is subtle, but potent enough to act like a squeegee on that third-eye. If you've shied from IPAs because they make your tongue shrivel into the back of your throat like you're chewing on quinine tablets, then give the third-eye a try. Hey, that entire last sentence could be the foundation of an ad campaign.
If you're in the mood for beers accompanied by the smaller members of your family, and you're in Durango or Bayfield, Steamworks is your place. Steamworks was born into an historic automotive building in the heart of the historic district in Durango, and has a cavernous industrial feel. Cement floors invite chalk art and peanut shells, a kid's fantasy come true. And the Steamworks folks have been producing award-winning beers and good comfort food for some time now. On my recent visit, I heralded the Third Eye Pale Ale, one of their four always-tapped beers, as that night's champion, though there were five runner-ups. On the tour I've come to appreciate the mind-altering powers of the sticky resinous hops plant, and this beer is like a gateway-brew to the bitter side of beer. The hops kick is subtle, but potent enough to act like a squeegee on that third-eye. If you've shied from IPAs because they make your tongue shrivel into the back of your throat like you're chewing on quinine tablets, then give the third-eye a try. Hey, that entire last sentence could be the foundation of an ad campaign.
Ska Brewing
It occurred to me, mainly because a new muse suggested it, that if you're in Durango, your choice of which brewery to patronize is as much about identity as it is about beer. All the breweries are variously good to excellent, but each is differentiated by an image or identity that appeals to a certain type. If you think of yourself as a fringe player, an iconoclast, a hooligan, irreverent, beyond classification, a character, then Ska may just be your beer. As their tag line reads, "It takes characters to brew beer with character." In Durango, ordering a Ska beer is akin to, "I'm from here. I'm one of you." The Ska Pinstripe is the flagship, and should you want to fit in with the locals, which is a dubious proposition, order one over a Coors Light next time. I visited Ska's new World Headquarters during a benefit for the local public radio station KSUT. It was a silent auction, and a fine location for one. If you want to raise a bunch of dough for your cause, I recommend the Ska World Headquarters as your venue. I went in hoping to bid on a couple of CDs and, after lubricating my wallet with numerous Ska brews, walked out with a vintage Italian racing bike and improbably expensive tickets to next year's Telluride Bluegrass Festival. I need an Italian racing bike like I need another beer tour to round out my already ample ass. My favorite Ska beer comes in a can, the E.S.B., or English Special Bitter. Not only is it one of the only microbrews that comes in a can, it's as well balanced as a can pyramid next to a campfire on the third day of the Telluride Bluegrass festival with Alison Krauss taking the stage to displace the sounds of the nearby river. Enough said.
It occurred to me, mainly because a new muse suggested it, that if you're in Durango, your choice of which brewery to patronize is as much about identity as it is about beer. All the breweries are variously good to excellent, but each is differentiated by an image or identity that appeals to a certain type. If you think of yourself as a fringe player, an iconoclast, a hooligan, irreverent, beyond classification, a character, then Ska may just be your beer. As their tag line reads, "It takes characters to brew beer with character." In Durango, ordering a Ska beer is akin to, "I'm from here. I'm one of you." The Ska Pinstripe is the flagship, and should you want to fit in with the locals, which is a dubious proposition, order one over a Coors Light next time. I visited Ska's new World Headquarters during a benefit for the local public radio station KSUT. It was a silent auction, and a fine location for one. If you want to raise a bunch of dough for your cause, I recommend the Ska World Headquarters as your venue. I went in hoping to bid on a couple of CDs and, after lubricating my wallet with numerous Ska brews, walked out with a vintage Italian racing bike and improbably expensive tickets to next year's Telluride Bluegrass Festival. I need an Italian racing bike like I need another beer tour to round out my already ample ass. My favorite Ska beer comes in a can, the E.S.B., or English Special Bitter. Not only is it one of the only microbrews that comes in a can, it's as well balanced as a can pyramid next to a campfire on the third day of the Telluride Bluegrass festival with Alison Krauss taking the stage to displace the sounds of the nearby river. Enough said.
Silverton Brewery
How cool is it that Silverton even has a brewery? The town has something like 12 year-round residents. They could just name each beer after a person in town. Though talking with the brewer is against the rules for fear of having to listen to diatribes on wort and mash and being shown charts of various malts, Brian was both brew master and bartender, so it was a necessary, though pleasant, evil. We sat in the Harley-like motorcycle seats that double as bar stools in the place and sipped on a seasonal called Mine Tailings Marzen (named, of course, after Jim "Mine Tailings" Marzen, one of the local "dirty dozen."). The hops in this beer were picked by another local who was trying to figure out a good trade, other than money, for beer. Brian dry-hopped the beer with the local hops and I don't know if that makes the difference, but his Marzen (actually a German word that originally meant March-beer), is the color of the mine tailings in its title, a vibrant reddish orange, with a spiciness contending with a hint of sweetness and a hint of hops bitterness. It's damned good. Whoever this bartering hops clown is, they should name the beer after him.
How cool is it that Silverton even has a brewery? The town has something like 12 year-round residents. They could just name each beer after a person in town. Though talking with the brewer is against the rules for fear of having to listen to diatribes on wort and mash and being shown charts of various malts, Brian was both brew master and bartender, so it was a necessary, though pleasant, evil. We sat in the Harley-like motorcycle seats that double as bar stools in the place and sipped on a seasonal called Mine Tailings Marzen (named, of course, after Jim "Mine Tailings" Marzen, one of the local "dirty dozen."). The hops in this beer were picked by another local who was trying to figure out a good trade, other than money, for beer. Brian dry-hopped the beer with the local hops and I don't know if that makes the difference, but his Marzen (actually a German word that originally meant March-beer), is the color of the mine tailings in its title, a vibrant reddish orange, with a spiciness contending with a hint of sweetness and a hint of hops bitterness. It's damned good. Whoever this bartering hops clown is, they should name the beer after him.
Mr. Grumpy Pants Brewing Company
The Mr. Grumpy Pants Brewing Company of Ouray has a sign above the bar that reads, "Welcome to Mr. Grumpy Pants Brewing Company," and beneath it the words, "Welcome being a relative term." Hutch, also the brewer and bartender in this town of just a few more people than Silverton, is a character worthy of his brewery's namesake. There's a sign that reads, "Beer Return," in place of "Bathroom." He has a hybrid swing/zip-line that he uses to get from one end of the bar to the other. The décor is made out of recreational equipment like climbing gear, books, maps and kayaks, but one gets the impression that it isn't there for appearances like it was in the brewery we visited in Moab, but because Hutch uses the bar room like other people might use a garage. Kids and credit cards are decidedly not welcome, as is posted clearly on the metal building's exterior. Heat, I'm told, is a new concept to the brewery. Hutch installed a wood stove because last winter patrons occasionally had to break through ice forming at the top of their glasses to drink. Mr. Grumpy Pants is my favorite brewery in the four states we visited. The tour is done, and I pick this brewery the winner. I sipped on a brown ale, nutty in aroma, a cocoa bitterness at its core and a carbonation perfectly rendered to hang on to the beer's creamy edge. I started up a backgammon game, but was persuaded to participate in a raucous and drunken round of Jenga. Each Jenga block had some suggested spin-the-bottle-esque act written upon it, a clever variant on the classic game. I didn't "take off an article of clothing," as several of the blocks suggested, but, since the place feels like a buddy's cool private bar and living room, someday I'll return in a different mood and get naked. Hutch, don't hide the Jenga game when you see me coming.
The Mr. Grumpy Pants Brewing Company of Ouray has a sign above the bar that reads, "Welcome to Mr. Grumpy Pants Brewing Company," and beneath it the words, "Welcome being a relative term." Hutch, also the brewer and bartender in this town of just a few more people than Silverton, is a character worthy of his brewery's namesake. There's a sign that reads, "Beer Return," in place of "Bathroom." He has a hybrid swing/zip-line that he uses to get from one end of the bar to the other. The décor is made out of recreational equipment like climbing gear, books, maps and kayaks, but one gets the impression that it isn't there for appearances like it was in the brewery we visited in Moab, but because Hutch uses the bar room like other people might use a garage. Kids and credit cards are decidedly not welcome, as is posted clearly on the metal building's exterior. Heat, I'm told, is a new concept to the brewery. Hutch installed a wood stove because last winter patrons occasionally had to break through ice forming at the top of their glasses to drink. Mr. Grumpy Pants is my favorite brewery in the four states we visited. The tour is done, and I pick this brewery the winner. I sipped on a brown ale, nutty in aroma, a cocoa bitterness at its core and a carbonation perfectly rendered to hang on to the beer's creamy edge. I started up a backgammon game, but was persuaded to participate in a raucous and drunken round of Jenga. Each Jenga block had some suggested spin-the-bottle-esque act written upon it, a clever variant on the classic game. I didn't "take off an article of clothing," as several of the blocks suggested, but, since the place feels like a buddy's cool private bar and living room, someday I'll return in a different mood and get naked. Hutch, don't hide the Jenga game when you see me coming.
Smugglers Brewpub
Telluride is a town of change. Just yesterday it was a sleepy mountain town with a ski hill, and overnight it's a world-class resort with more massage therapists per capita than Sedona. Smuggler's Brewpub has weathered that change, and when you walk in the doors you realize instantly that the place has maintained authenticity in a sea of poseurs, which is French for posers. There is a 1-to-1 customer-to-TV ratio, perfect for World-Series viewing. I sat at the bar next to Chris Fish, the brewer. Man, you can't get away from these guys. He was super-friendly, as was the bartender Matt. They poured 14 beers. Wow! The Road Rash Red has an inviting strawberry blonde appearance, and a light-hopped and malty flavor that shoots its drinkability up the scale. There's a Smugglers in Montrose too, which has a more Montrose feel to it, and they're opening up another in Grand Junction. It'd be great if they'd just take over the world.
Telluride is a town of change. Just yesterday it was a sleepy mountain town with a ski hill, and overnight it's a world-class resort with more massage therapists per capita than Sedona. Smuggler's Brewpub has weathered that change, and when you walk in the doors you realize instantly that the place has maintained authenticity in a sea of poseurs, which is French for posers. There is a 1-to-1 customer-to-TV ratio, perfect for World-Series viewing. I sat at the bar next to Chris Fish, the brewer. Man, you can't get away from these guys. He was super-friendly, as was the bartender Matt. They poured 14 beers. Wow! The Road Rash Red has an inviting strawberry blonde appearance, and a light-hopped and malty flavor that shoots its drinkability up the scale. There's a Smugglers in Montrose too, which has a more Montrose feel to it, and they're opening up another in Grand Junction. It'd be great if they'd just take over the world.
The Dolores River Brewery
The Dolores River Brewery claims it was "founded under the premise that everybody needs somebody, and every community should have a comfortable place to hang out with that somebody!" On the night I visited, a Sunday, the place was jammed with people enjoying a couple of very good bluegrass bands, eating pizza and drinking beer, like it was some kind of alternate town hall meeting. Molly, the bartender, served me their four beers and I chose the Big Otter to drink. The Otter has an unfiltered orange hue, an aroma with a hint of almond, which is backed up by an almondy quality in the hops and slightly bitter finish. Mmmm, good. I bought one for a guy I met there who was on the legal team that put on hold the Village at Wolf Creek development. He said he hadn't had to buy his own beer in a long time. Speaking of authenticity - mountain people, mountain music, homemade style food, and beer. It makes you want to do a little jig in honor of living the good life, 'cause the ingredients to the good life are all in stock at the Dolores River Brewery.
I tried to go to the Main Street Brewery in Cortez. They were closed for remodeling and the tour ended with me shut out on the last stop. All totaled, I drank a thousand beers and traveled thousands of miles, or so it seemed. Those of you in charge of publishing empires, I'm down for another tour; fine restaurants, chocolatiers, donut shops, gentleman's clubs, whatever. I'm here to help, here for you. Cheers.
The Dolores River Brewery claims it was "founded under the premise that everybody needs somebody, and every community should have a comfortable place to hang out with that somebody!" On the night I visited, a Sunday, the place was jammed with people enjoying a couple of very good bluegrass bands, eating pizza and drinking beer, like it was some kind of alternate town hall meeting. Molly, the bartender, served me their four beers and I chose the Big Otter to drink. The Otter has an unfiltered orange hue, an aroma with a hint of almond, which is backed up by an almondy quality in the hops and slightly bitter finish. Mmmm, good. I bought one for a guy I met there who was on the legal team that put on hold the Village at Wolf Creek development. He said he hadn't had to buy his own beer in a long time. Speaking of authenticity - mountain people, mountain music, homemade style food, and beer. It makes you want to do a little jig in honor of living the good life, 'cause the ingredients to the good life are all in stock at the Dolores River Brewery.
I tried to go to the Main Street Brewery in Cortez. They were closed for remodeling and the tour ended with me shut out on the last stop. All totaled, I drank a thousand beers and traveled thousands of miles, or so it seemed. Those of you in charge of publishing empires, I'm down for another tour; fine restaurants, chocolatiers, donut shops, gentleman's clubs, whatever. I'm here to help, here for you. Cheers.
Chris Bettin likes a good "muse" almost as much as a good beer, so, sorries aside, he's off in search of an award winner. Stay tuned!
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