Distillations: Brewing to Salvation at Magnolia Pub and Brewery 

At a warehouse party in Oakland, a slightly drunken guy I didn't know suddenly said, "Oh, man, why aren't we out there with the protesters! We should be closing down I-80!"

I asked, "Would that really help?"

He said, "Maybe not, but it would be cool!"

And I hated him with a passion so cold and sharp that I spent the next half hour stabbing him with it, mocking everything he tried to say.

A week later, while San Francisco was bracing for a storm, I slipped into a corner table by the window at Magnolia Pub and Brewery. The torture report had just come out, and it felt like we could be in the middle of a storm for some time.

I haven't taken to the streets — Bay Area protests seem more like the Uber for social unrest than the dream of a better society — but I can't help but wonder if this is one of those moments in history when anyone who doesn't put their body in harm's way will someday be ashamed to have done too little.

We can't say, "We didn't know." We don't have that excuse. Can we live with ourselves?

It's enough to drive a man to drink.

Magnolia is the kind of sturdy bar you feel like you could ride a storm out in; it has that solid, beer hall quality. But it also boasts a lovely, highly worn, Art Deco look, a combination that seems odd on paper but that the bar makes work surprisingly well in practice.

That combination of antithetical elements in décor can be taken as a good omen about the brewmasters' ability to combine antithetical elements in beer. Their pomegranate hard cider is sweet and tart in perfect balance, a great example of the form. The Destiny Unblonde is a nice mixture of pale and blonde ales, creating a unique, mildly bitter beer. The Sarah's Ruby Mild is another successful experiment in gentle flavor, a lovely understated amber that is all the more enticing for how little of it there is.

It was $4 pint day, and I was taking advantage. It meant more of the ales on tap and fewer of the cask, which is a pity in theory but not in practice.

Magnolia is an establishment that is truly established, the kind of place I just assume people know about. It doesn't need any more compliments the way North Korea doesn't need any more dictators. I'll tell you that the goat cheese bacon-wrapped dates are to die for, and the wings are delicious with a sneaky kick, and the sausages are "artisanal" in the best sense of the term, but these are words that are banal for being so true. A bit like saying, "Go Catholicism!" in Italy, or, "Go sex!" in L.A., or, "Go ironically Catholic themed sex!" in San Francisco. I stared out the window onto Haight Street, watched the people go by, and wondered how they were preparing for the storm.

Magnolia is hip without being shiny, new, or self-conscious, which is the best kind of hip. The beers here are not my favorite in the world — those are the Trappist beers brewed by the Flemish monks of the Cistercian Order — but that night, something about Magnolia was reminding me of those monasteries.

Those monks have not been called to be priests and tend to the world's sins, or missionaries who work with the meek. That is not who they are. They are contemplative, called upon to spend their days in prayer, come what may. But they work. They still make beer (or bricks, or cheese) and offer it to the community. They still contribute.

I like to think that making a great bar is a contribution, even a holy act. And perhaps if making a great bar is a holy act then perhaps writing something good, even if it is not a political treatise, is a holy act. That perhaps when we are all called to account for the sins of our time, as past generations have been called to account for theirs, and asked, "Where were you when a better world was being forged in anger?" the great bar owners will be able to say "I made a beautiful bar," and the monks will be able to say "I was praying," and I will be able to say "I was writing."

"Did that really help?" they may ask, and I won't have an answer, but I hope the better world we are forging will understand and forgive.