At a recent apartment-warming party for a couple of friends, we spent the day grilling, reveling, and downing a well-curated selection of craft beers in the fridge.
Once we blew through the supply, someone made a quick run to the corner bodega, right before closing time. It wasn't so long ago that this kind of "last call" mission would would have resulted in a 30-pack of macro Lagers or, maybe, if you were lucky, a few imports. Now, it results in a bounty of locally made Pilsners, juicy American Pales, hell, even a craft cider.
As I creeped out of one party, I couldn't stop thinking about how excited I am to see how this other party—the ongoing rager that is “craft”—evolves. You don't have to go home, you just can't stay here.