Today’s guest post is from my friend Sean Brown. Sean is one of my oldest and absolute dearest friends. We met in college at the University of Minnesota, and he’s been inspiring me ever since. He’s a great writer, a killer quarters opponent, and a wonderful friend. Sean’s currently tooling around New Zealand and this post is a colorful and fun review of the James Speight Brewery in Dunedin.

When the Marlboro Man was forced into retirement in 1999, all signs pointed towards a quiet life and an early death. Just him, his cattle, and his trusty border collie, Mr. Chips. Endless tracts of land to roam in the American Southwest, complete with an abundance of sunsets tailor made to peer at, and to wonder just where he’d gone wrong. How far he’d fallen from his roll as a national icon and unabashed sex symbol to a disgraced former corrupter of the Youth of America. For a couple years, at least. He couldn’t have lived long in retirement anyway, not if the scientists were right, not with all those carcinogens, not for so many years. No, we haven’t heard from the Marlboro Man in a few years now, and like the rest, I assumed he’d moved on to that Great Ad Campaign in the sky. And like the rest, I was wrong.

I caught up the Marlboro Man recently in Dunedin, the scenic college town on the east coast of the South Island of New Zealand. I shouted his named, but he pretended not to know me. The Marlboro Man has a new name, but his face is the same. A new product, but his rugged individualism still shines. He turned his back on us when we turned our backs on him; and he found a new gig, he’s reinvented himself. He is now, The Southern Man.

He traded in his deliciously toxic Reds for a milder, gentler killer that targets the liver instead of the lungs. He is a beer man now. I made this shocking discovery one random Tuesday afternoon, fresh off the boat from Queenstown, the undisputed party capital of New Zealand. I was a slightly hungover, definitely sleep deprived, and still high on the type of adrenaline that only comes from a mixture of bungee jumping and partying until 5 in the morning with hedge fund girls on vacation from Connecticut. I did not look well. Arriving at the Dunedin Visitors Center with time to kill, I learned that the city is home to Cadbury Chocolate, The World’s Steepest Street (according to Guinness), and The Original James Speight Brewery. After very little deliberation, I decided on the brewery.

It’s not hard to find the original James Speight Brewery in Dunedin. Like most everything else, it’s within easy walking distance of the city centre, just a few blocks up the hill. Look for the smokestack towering high above the city, and notice the barrel perched on top. During the tour, we come to find out that the barrel was originally a prank by the builders, but was never taken down. Over the years, Speight’s has embraced this barrel tower, and it has become a well known local landmark.

Approaching the front entrance, one notices a spicket, coming from the main wall of the brewery. This is for spring water that the brewery uses in their beer. The company shares this natural spring water with the community at no cost, though donations are encouraged. Entering the main reception area, the visitor is greeted by dark, rich display cases containing artifacts telling the tale of Speight’s since its inception in 1876. The tour itself lasts about an hour. Groups are guided to the stop of the brewery, where they learn not only about Speight’s, but about the history of beer in general. There are life sized replicas of Vikings, who coined the term “skulling” a beer, of James Cook, who forced his men to drink beer to ward off scurvy, and of course of James Speight himself, the man who started the whole thing in Dunedin, in 1876.

The inside of the of the brewery showcases dark, rich woods, and shiny copper tanks. It is a gallery as well as production center. Many of the little details have been preserved from the old days, down to the Brew Master’s office, and some of the employee bars. At the end of the tour, guests watch a short video chronicling the exploits of the Southern Man. A hard worker. Humble. A Man’s Man. Speight’s own reincarnate of the Marlboro Man.

So when you go, don’t forget the tasting at the end. When they give you free range of the taps, try them all, from the Golden Ale to the cider. Don’t forget to try a sip of the spring water at the front door, and nod a hello to the Southern Man.

seanmcbrown

Sean Brown is currently on assignment, wandering around the South Pacific in search of a good time and a proper drink. Currently in New Zealand, he longs for Mexican food and will always consider the burrito superior to the kebab. The movie Black Swan sort of creeped him out. He twitters as @seanmcbrown and writes (occasionally with pictures!) at The Anarchist Project.

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My first trip to NYC was a short, but dizzyingly wonderful one.  I spent about thirty-six hours there and managed to sightsee more than I’d expected.  And naturally, I ATE.  In fact, the only thing I think I had on my to-eat list that I didn’t get to was the pizza.

Don’t get me wrong.  We tried.  We walked all the way across the bridge to Brooklyn for Grimaldi’s pizza.  Except that it was 90somethingfucking degrees outside and the line THAT WENT OUTSIDE was a good 45 minutes.

Hell no.

So, we ventured to the South Street Seaport instead.

NYC has SO MANY food options, and with the exception of Times Square (ick. boo.), most seem to be authentic, local, amazing little eateries.  Here’s what I DID manage to nom:

• a bagel in Brooklyn.  To be honest?  It was TASTY, but the bagels at East Coast Bagels in California were better on the sheer principle that they had CHOCOLATE CHIP bagels and this little shop in Brooklyn did not
• popcorn shrimp at the Heartland Brewery at the South Street Seaport.  Popcorn shrimp is ALWAYS a win.  I also enjoyed their Summertime Apricot Ale with my Fish and Chips.  Seafood?  Always good.  FRIED seafood?  EVEN BETTER.
• Then there was a CHEESE PLATE and TIRAMISU at Bar Baresco.  I think that the best way to enjoy a cheese plate – at least for me, while I’m learning what I like and don’t – is to ask the server for a good variety of different levels of soft and hardness and intensity.  We got a beautifully diverse array of soft cheeses, red wine infused cheeses, and delicious nuts and honeys to accompany the cheese.
• And the tiramisu? OH MY GOD.

Now, I just need to get back to that fine city and have a piece of greasy pizza!

doniree

Doniree Walker is the Nomadic Foodie. She loves the exploration and community of food, and currently lives in Portland, Oregon, and loves the region's focus on local and seasonal food, daily farmers' markets and food carts at seemingly every turn. She's on twitter as @doniree and @nomadicfoodie, and blogs her adventures and life in general at doniree.com.