The Revolutionary
by Bryan Jansing
Lurago Marinone is a sleepy, little town with about 2,500 people
located 20 miles northwest of Milano in the province of Como. It once had a
castle that was destroyed by the Milanesi in 1284. Its single church, St.
Georgio, built in 1216 is the only reminder that this was once an important
town. With the city of Milano looming nearby it would seem that Lurago is
probably the most unlikely place to find one of the epicenters for a beer
movement. But just a stone’s throw away from St. Georgio is Birrificio Italiano owned by brewer Agostino Arioli.
The brewery, like the town, is an
unlikely candidate to hold a great title, but it does. It was here, nearly
twenty years ago, where Agostino began to brew the beers that would define a
cultural phenomenon and redefine an image of a wine country. With Italy’s long
and outstanding culinary history, it seems amazing that beer remained absolutely
absent from its cuisine, not to mention craft beer. But it was in this quaint
little town that Agostino began to write a new chapter in Italy’s culinary
history.
“Every beer has its story.”
Agositno said to me.
And so do their brewers. A contrarian
at heart, Agostino Arioli is one of the most important elements that created the
Italian craft beer movement.
In his humble beginnings, Agostino
had to make his own malt, find a metal fabricator to weld him a vat to his
specifications as he assisted by holding the parts being welded. The townspeople
were suspicious. They thought Birrificio Itlaliano was a front, a fake place
for perhaps laundering money. When Agostino opened his doors, the people of
Lurago thought he was cheating them by leaving a head on their beers. To quail
their suspicions, Agostino had glasses made with a line showing the volume they
paid for, explaining that with the head on top they were actually getting more,
not less beer.
When the local publicans of
Lurago finally had been convinced to order Agostino’s beers, they were
dumbfounded when he returned a few months later to reclaim the nearly full kegs
since the beer had reached its expiration. But with all of this against him,
Agostino finally was able to convince Lurago that what he was doing wasn’t only
legit, but definitive. Now all he had left to convince was the rest of his
country. To this day, Milanesi are still suspicious of craft beer, unable to
recognize that beer can also stand alongside cheese, wine, meats as a valid
Italian food product.
Still, Agostino has a long way to
go to even begin to wash away the stain of Morretti and Peroni as the standard
beer. Perhaps it could have only happened by a man who refuses to allow style
to define his beers or history to define what can or cannot be legitimate.
