What started out as a tasting room evolved into a pizzeria that is now aching to bust out as a farm-fresh full-service foodtopia.  

They say big things come in small packages.  So true. The volume and succulence of  the dishes generated from our WW2 submarine-sized galley continues to amaze and impress.  Every day we get up with the proverbial fire in the belly to deliver artisanal pizzas, sandwiches, salads and entrees that leave traditional notions of “pub food” in the dust. Our goal is nothing less than “Worthy fare,” a cuisine that titillates and delights at the same time it’s doing the body good.

And yet, to live up to our own outrageously high expectations, in the two months since we’ve been open it’s happily evident that our “little kitchen that could” needs to expand. To be sure, our nimble, dexterous and clever foodsters can handle the pressure. They don’t mind the occasional welt, bruise or burn when the action gets hot, tight and close. These are trained professionals, as graceful as ballerinas with the raw power of Australian footballers.

But our customers have spoken. They want more, and we must deliver.  It’s only been two months since our doors swung open, but it’s time to grow. Not get big. But get better.  Time to consistently deliver food that is commensurate with our beer. In short, it’s time for Worthy’s flowering foodtopia to match Worthy’s limitless beertopia.

In the next month, Worthy will be expanding our kitchen space. More ovens, more grills, more prep space, and a workable system for insuring that the sumptuous platters are served piping hot.  The construction will be surgical.  We’ll work in the wee hours.  We’ll work when the sun’s coming up. The build-out shouldn't upset the normal flow of rainbow-colored food from the kitch.

In the spirit of inspired progress, this Friday we’ll be offering a revised menu that focuses on our best recipes.  Wood-fired artisanal pizzas will continue on as our mainstay. We’ll call up a few promising standouts, such as a pork verde taco, a piled high pork sando, a pan seared salmon with mashed potatoes and veggies (mouth watering yet?), and a new chicken sando with bacon and Tillamook Pepperjack. We’ll send a few players back to the minors until the lights come on in our new stadium.

Now here’s the part where I pitch my favorite Worthy victual: The Irish Pizza. Now, now. It hasn’t moved quite as nicely as we anticipated. Perhaps it’s the name. But this is the pizza that inspired Worthy to launch into the stratosphere from it’s Van Gogh inspired Starry Night wood fired oven.  

We’re challenging you to eat just one slice. Yes. Like the potato chip, we’re betting that you can’t eat just once slice. If you can, it’s free. On The House.  That’s how much we believe in this sleeper.  We know, we know. Potatoes on pizza sounds off. That’s because you’re imagining cubes, or chunks, or tots, or hash, or whatever.  We thinly slice our Yukons, like kettle chips. The crispy pancetta seals the deal. 

For a sneak preview of Worthy's revised menu which will go live on Friday, April 19, please click here.  As always, eat, drink and be Worthy

The Worthy Grand O rocked, thanks to a bunch of super-motivated friends, staffers, farmers, hop lovers, academics, musicians, face painters and of course die-hard beer disciples. It all came together beautifully.

Chad designed our brewhouse to brew, can and bottle high quality beer, not finesse Carnegie Hall quality concert sound. Despite the blown out acoustics, Bend showed it’s legendary resilience by going with the flow, feeling the vibe, and doing a stellar job reading lips, hips and undecipherable scripts.

A big Worthy special thanks to our guest of honor, Al Haunold, the People’s Hopmeister, who was on Cloud Nine all night.  Over an academic career that spanned nearly 5 decades, Al’s received many awards, but none quite like this.  We dedicated our greenhouse to him, a tribute that in his words, left him feeling “humbled.” 

As Al put it, “Were it not for the craft brewers, most of my aroma hop varieties would be on the ash-heap of history.” Although the beer industrials helped finance a lot of his work beginning in the mid 1960s,  mainly to provide back-ups to the preferred land race noble varieties from Germany, Britain and Czechoslovakia,  few of them actually brewed with the cultivars he crossed and created.  Fortunately, The Big Boys’ loss was our gain. 

Much has been said about Al’s contributions to the world of hops, but few people know that Al barely made it out of war torn Austria alive.  In 1945, when he was just 15, the Nazi’s stormed into his village in search of recruits. They grabbed Al and his younger brother, conscripted them, and put them on the back of a troop transport truck. They told him he was going to man a bazooka to kill Soviet and Allied tanks. 

This will not stand, vowed the teenage kid.  I was not meant to die anonymously on a battlefield, another pointless sacrifice to the insanely cruel Wehrmacht, he thought. I was meant to do something wonderful, to celebrate life, to give back. 

That night, he and his brother jumped off of that truck, fled into the woods, and holed up in a cave. They lived off grubs for the next three weeks until they were rescued by the Red Army.  In 1953, Al came to the US and eventually earned a PHD in genetics.  

The rest, as they say, is history.  Al’s creations will forever thrive – beauties like Cascade, Santiam, Sterling, Nugget, Mt. Hood, and Willamette.  We are very grateful for his humble service. He never set out to make a fortune, or be famous.  He did the people’s work, taking the legendary noble varieties and tailoring them to the Pacific Northwest terroir, with superior disease resistance, yields, alpha acid and, in many cases, amazing flavor and aroma. 

Here at Worthy we are proud to showcase Al’s work. And we are even prouder to do our part to keep his spirit alive. With the help of our friends at Oregon State and Indie Hops, we will continue Al’s life long mission to bring new and wonderful flavors to your pint glass. 

Großes dankeschön!

BGL
4/9/13

Do you like to take a pull? A hard pull on the front? Into the wind? Uphill? Head down, back table top flat, lips kissing the stem, the quads loading up, the respiration quickening, forging ahead bravely but stupidly?  Locked on to a single unambiguous but cosmically trivial mission? Striving for that mind-body harmony, denying the encroaching fatigue, staving off the brutal horrors of imminent shut down? While a tiny voice inside commands with escalating urgency: “Harder, nimrod.” All the while a herd of tongue-dangled domos holding on to your wheel, for dear life, at once respecting your heroic effort and appalled by it’s idiotic fierceness?

Me neither. Used to, sort of. Back inda day, when the sticks were clean and shiny and the belly a few six packs flatter, it was sometimes flattering to be “that guy” who would take the point on the pel in the hardest sections and pull til his head figuratively came off and his legs exploded.  Oh you could justify it – I was chasing for my teammates. I wanted to break away (from the front?). I wanted to thin the herd. I felt good (up until he got dropped when the wheel sucks smartly attacked). Or, my favorite: I was inspired by Boxer the dim-witted workhorse in “Animal Farm.”

Oh we can make up all sorts of stories about why we pulled ourselves silly. But in the end, per this old pack mule, we did it for the glory.  It may not have felt good in a physical way, unless you’re a certified masochist (hurts so good, hoofaw!) with a touch of sadism (just wanted to inflict pain).  But, in our heads, where the legends are made, we were doing the unthinkable, the impossible, crushing our opponents into oblivion, dropping the field, and riding off into the loving arms of our exalted Creator.  We were perfect. Immaculate.

It’s that feeling of jubilation that we’re clinging onto over here at Worthy. We’ve had it, and want more. We won’t win any races. We won’t even enter any races. But we want to feed that part of us, call it the ego, or insatiable narcissism, call it whatever – that yearns to get off on the bike. By that we don't mean simply enjoy the ride, or get in the moment, or be aware of every nook n cranny -- all that hoary rot -- but friggin’ escape. Rise above, transcend all the chatter and nonsense and bullshit and get ahold of that golden rope and climb baby climb ‘til you’re untouchable, above the reach of that rat bastard stinging conscience, and fully immersed in The Bliss.

Or maybe that’s way too hi-falutin. You just want to ride with some buds, kick it around, explore a few canyons, summit a few peaks, bomb a few trails, and top off a challenging day with a cold brew. Man, that’s the juice.  When you’re slightly dehydrated, your brain is swelling with a sense of satisfaction and pride for a day well lived, you’re with people you care about, and now you get to reward yourself with that bubbling golden nectar of the gods. I’m talking about a decent beer with an ABV that packs a little punch. Glory pulling onda bike, glory chasing offta bike.

So here’s the pitch. Worthy’s forming a bike club. We got swag – jerseys, bib shorts, socks, gloves, hats, windbreakers – the whole kit ‘n caboodle. We’re not a race team, unless you’re including bench racing, which we will excel at (I attacked at the base, and strung it out, and one by one they popped, and … and I was all alone, OTF, and … and I whiffed by the lead car… and … and torqued so hard I broke my chain ... and carried my smoking carcass of a ride across the finish line.. still ten minutes up on the field…)

If you want in, you will need, in order, 1) an imagination, 2) a thirst for something new and different, and 3) a few bucks to buy a Worthy kit. You can call yourself a Worthy Glory Puller, but you don’t have to.  You don’t need shaved legs. You don’t need a racing license. You don’t need to feel the need to crush, or stomp, or paste. You simply want to play, and occasionally play hard, sometimes work together, and pretty much simply get up offa that thing. Oh, and it helps a great deal to have a bike of some kind that works most of the time.

Worthy’s fearless leader is Paul Karr. When Paul’s not working in the Worthy kitchen, he’s a cycling teacher at the COCC and heads up awe-inspiring rides for COG Wild.  Paul’s a patient man with boundless energy who enjoys bringing newbies into the wonderful world of cycling. So don’t be shy.  If you’re new to it all, you’re Worthy. We don't have an official riding event schedule at this time. In the near future we will be organizing mountain bike and road bike rides in Central Oregon.  We’ll try to start and stop the rides here at the brewery so there’s plenty of incentive to return safely and swiftly. 

Worthy Bike Club members will also receive a card that entitles same to 50% of the price of their first beer of the day, and other discounts to be announced later.

Collectible Worthy Swag courtesy of the artisnal apparel geniuses at Primal

Ahh yeah, Sunday afternoon … time to sip on a Worthy Kolsch, munch on an anchovy pizza after a delightful morning cross country skiing up at Meissner’s and give thanks.

Want to thank everyone who’s come out to taste our beers and eat our food. The support has been overwhelming and we’re as grateful as we are motivated. In fact, we’re already drawing up plans to double the size of our kitchen and expand our restaurant.

The kitchen staff has been busting a hump back and frankly it’s a joy to watch. The action, the speed, and the sound blend the grace and elegance of ballet and the bump and grind of rugby.  Love the guys and gals chopping, kneading, sautéing and decorating the dishes with that artistic touch.  

In the brewhouse, Chad and Dustin have been going all out.  We’ve got a doppleback that’s been lagering the past week which we will be pleased to keg this Friday. We are also tapping our second batch of Worthy Imperial IPA this week. 

My oh my, there’s only a few things better than the aroma filling up our brewhouse on Imperial mash-in day (and those things are better left unmentioned here).  For you hopheads, we’re talking about 5.5 pounds of Oregon grown hops per barrel. That’s a whole lotta herbal, flowery and citrusy aroma all rolled into one rolling cloudbank of mesmerizing, brain-tingling whiffery.

Can’t wait to get the rest of our fermentation and conditioning tanks installed. We’re expecting delivery before Mid-March…Also, excited about the delivery of our 5 barrel pilot brew system, which we expect in June. Indie Hops recently invited over several local brewers to do a “rub and sniff” on 16 experimental hop varieties.  The panel zeroed in on a couple of keepers, which we hope to brew with later this year.

Speaking of hops, the Worthy Hop Yard, Herb Garden and Hop House are progressing nicely.  If all goes well, we will plant 51 varieties this May, including 5-6 experimental varieties, and a few ornamentals. The focus will be on the public varieties released under the leadership of Dr. Al Haunold from 1970 to 1999.

We’re gearing up for the Hop House Dedication and Grand Opening on April 5th. Now that’s going to be a day to remember. We’ll be dedicating the Hop House to Dr. Haunold, a living legend.  If you want to shake hands with hop green greatness, this is your chance.  We’re now in the process of choosing a band to help us break in the brewhouse proper. 

A few other tidbits…. Working up relationships with local pig farmers and cattle ranchers in which we’ll supply the spent grain and hops and they’ll deliver choice cuts down the road.  Have a buddy who’s agreed to sing to and strum for the stock, which I know sounds touchy-feely “Portlandia” but we think it’s healthy and “humane.”  My buddy, who’s a vegan, has even agreed to taste the bacon and steak on account he knows the animals were fed and treated well.

Can Do… We’ve ordered all the parts to complete our Vimercati canning line. And we just ordered our bottling line. So get your video cameras ready.  This will be a melodious symphony of clanking cans and glass. Both lines should be operational by late June.

Keep movin and groovin.

BGL