Pat Nagle slipped past a long table of sausage-stuffed diners and beer-blissed locals, dodging elbows and German potato salad, making his way toward the hi-fi stereo precariously perched on old barrels, now thumping out oompah rhythms like a Bavarian brass band in a can. He paused, briefly — the kind of pause that only happens when a brewer-turned-restaurateur surveys a once-boil-kettle-filled brewhouse, now converted into a twinkling, flag-draped, laugh-drenched Oktoberfest beer garden.
The room, formerly home to fermenters and Brite tanks, is now an airy, high-ceilinged ode to transformation. No longer hissing with steam and stainless steel, it’s soon to be the caffeinated heart of Harmon’s Hop Coffee empire—beer meets espresso in a glorious union of early mornings and late nights. But for now, on this particular evening, it was pretzels, pilsner, and unfiltered joy.
Pat looked at his business partner Carole Ford, arms wide, eyes gleaming. “Maybe we should hold this room for holiday parties?”
Ford leaned back, a knowing smirk crossing her face. She was already twenty tabs deep into new menus, upcoming expansions, brewery logistics, and the still-smoldering reality that Harmon Brewing never really sleeps. But tonight, under white-and-blue pennant flags and a view of the East 21st Street Bridge glowing like an oil painting, the city outside had never looked better.
Then, like all perfect pauses, the moment passed. Glasses clinked. Laughter rose. A crowd of 50-ish Harmon fans lifted pints of Bretty Pale Ale, the brewery’s delightfully funky “social beer,” signaling the start of the annual Harmon Oktoberfest Brewer’s Dinner.
Enter the trio of the hour: Nagle, head brewer Jeff Carlson, and chef Andre Reeves, standing side-by-side like the beer-trinity they are. A few welcome words later, veal bratwurst, sauerkraut, and beer-infused pretzels arrived, followed by one particularly scene-stealing brew: the Ol’ Fire Tongue Ancho Chili Stout.
Carlson, smiling like a man who knows what he’s done, explained: “I usually make just a couple kegs for Cinco de Mayo. This year, I used the base of our silver medalist Stryker Stout, added ancho chilies, Hop Coffee, and cocoa, and brewed five gallons of fire-laced love.”
The result? A deep, roasty, mocha dream, with hints of dark chocolate, espresso, and just the right kind of heat—the kind that waits till the third sip and then politely taps your throat with a flickering flame. Balanced. Bold. Possibly magical.
Next came the German salad course: cucumber, tomato, and potato — all vinegar-drenched and unapologetically acidic, served alongside Carlson’s Farmhouse Saison. Aged in a wine barrel and fermented with three strains of saison yeast, it was bready, earthy, and citrus-kissed with lemongrass, like a French countryside picnic tucked into a Tacoma pint glass.
And then came the warrior plate: Konigsberger Klopse (that’s lamb meatballs to you and me) with pillowy spaetzle, hearty enough to survive a long march through a Teutonic forest or just the trip home in a takeout box. Harmon’s Fall Ball Red Ale played backup—a Munich malt base dressed up with pumpkin puree, pie spice, and whole cinnamon sticks. Sweet. Malty. Slightly boozy. Fall-in-a-glass.
The evening closed with a dessert that made every grown adult momentarily regress to childhood. Harmon’s Pumpkin Blonde Ale, all piecrust and spice, was served alongside pastry chef Melina Eshinski’s masterwork: the Pumpkin Hop Tart — a grown-up Pop-Tart that dares you to ever eat the boxed version again. Three times the size. Ten times the flavor. One hundred percent the reason people text their ex “you up?” after dessert.
As the final toasts echoed off the wood beams, and another course disappeared into the ether of excellent memories, the future of Harmon Brewing shimmered: coffee, beer, perhaps a few more surprise rooms turned into something spectacular.
Here’s to the 19th Oktoberfest Brewer’s Dinner, wherever it may unfold.
Prost, Tacoma. Prost forever.
