The twisted tale of Jeremy Cowan, from water-polo star to the hallowed halls of Stanford, to the underground zine scene in New Orleans, received a fitting tribute last week — a menorah made from eight pint glasses of beer.
The brains, brawn and brewer of He’Brew beer, Cowan celebrated the fifth anniversary of America’s only Jewish microbrew at San Francisco’s Crow Bar on Dec. 13. About 40 friends gathered to celebrate Chanukah and reminisce about the evolution of an unlikely concept.
Sales of the kosher-certified brew have escalated from 100 cases in 1996 to 5,000 annually, according to Cowan, a San Franciscan whose Shmaltz Brewery operates out of Anderson Brewing Company in Boonville, Mendocino County.
One measure of the kosher brew’s success: It was featured prominently in an episode of “Friends.”
What started out as a local in-joke now has people in Idaho swilling down suds. “I’ve only sold 14 cases in Idaho so far,” said the 32-year-old Cowan. “But I really see it as an emerging market. Potatoes are big there, so maybe I could work out some kind of latke-beer angle.”
On the serious side, Cowan donates 10 percent of the beer’s profits to charity, and often donates cases to environmental causes and Bay Area synagogues.
Robert Mullin, a longtime friend of Cowan’s, was around during the idea’s genesis. Although Cowan had intimated that the beer was the result of a collision between his libertine and Jewish values, Mullin has a different recollection.
“Basically, about three of us had been drinking way too much one night in 1987,” said Mullin. “It was myself, Jeremy and Josh Weinstock, and we had all been friends since high school [where Cowan developed his reputation as a water-polo star and lothario]. Jeremy and Josh started going back and forth for crazy marketing ideas for Jewish stuff. Pretty soon, the idea for ‘He-Brew’ popped up, as well as the slogan ‘Don’t Pass Out — Pass Over.'”
Another longtime friend, freelance Web designer Chris Williams, recalled the heady days of the company’s beginnings, and likened it to that of many Silicon Valley startups. There were tales of manic energy, long hours, bursts of creativity and moments of despair.
Not to mention a few early cases of stinky beer.
“There were a few experiments that didn’t quite work out,” recalled Williams, who was among a handful of friends who squeezed hundreds of pomegranates for the brew.
Not only has the beer slaked the thirst of thousands of beer lovers, but it has also helped to honor an ancient Jewish tradition — playing the role of yenta.
Shiva Reich, a former intern for He’Brew, remembers setting up a display in an East Bay liquor mart, just as Berkeley resident John Silk was wondering what to bring to a Shabbat party. Silk said he couldn’t help but notice the fine form Reich cut while stacking bottles.
“I thought she was the bomb,” said Silk, who celebrated the one-year anniversary of their relationship at the Crow Bar and was huddled in a corner with Reich throughout the evening. Silk added that the beer also made his mother very happy.
Further evidence of the beer’s ability to cross the generational divides was provided by Williams, who said his 80 year-old grandmother in the Lower East Side also enjoyed the brew called “the chosen beer.”
“That’s saying a lot, because my grandmother’s an atheist,” said Williams. “But she definitely knows her beer.”