New Jersey, like a lot of states these days, has a bunch of breweries. Some are fly-by-night. Some are here for the long haul. Brewing beer is, after all, the 2020s dude version of starting a handbag company. Yeah, I was a corporate fill-in-the-blank, but that lifestyle just didn’t suit me. I figure I already bought a lot of purses — or drank a bunch of beer — and thought what this world needs is another cool place to hang and try my latest vanilla and peach IPA concoction. I’m not putting that on Pallet in the slightest, as it feels pretty authentic and almost utilitarian in its beer presentation, but I always look askance at any new brewery that pops up out of the blue.
I’m only a little bit familiar with Maplewood. People tell me it’s like Montclair. It is. And it isn’t. This particular location where Pallet Brewing sits is completely unfamiliar to me, and feels separate and apart from the rest of the normal downtown Maplewood scene. It could be five miles away. It could be 200 yards around the bend. I have no idea. There’s what appears to be one of those kind of dead-end industrial areas that dot New Jersey where once there was some sort of integrated industry. A building that made gears and another that made brake shoes with another that made exhaust manifolds. Separate companies that worked in some sort of harmony to supply some greater endeavor. Until that type of business went elsewhere or otherwise ceased to exist. This road, with its industrial buildings and industrious past, feels right for drinking beer. The parking, which is probably still a vestige of its pre-commercial era, is less than awesome, but perhaps they’ll develop some method to improve that as the area businesses mature.
I met a buddy at Pallet on a Wednesday night around 7:30. Not exactly prime time. Though, again, I had to double back several times to find a parking spot. There was a pretty rocking eatery of some sort a few doors down, but the brewery itself was relatively quiet. It was mid-July and I think they’d only been open for about two weeks, so the place still had that new-car smell about it. In a good way — a fresh wood and wax scent. It felt clean and shiny still. No time for spilled kegs and dummies to track in weather from the outside. Keeping to its industrial roots, it stuck with the open beams, concrete floor and cinderblock walls. They too are in the business of making things, right? A colorful mural adorns one wall, but the aesthetic is otherwise simple and unfussy. We squatted at the bar, surveyed the small-ish beer list and ordered whatever the bartender said was interesting. Which, in this case was something called Cobalt Nordic IPA. The incredibly friendly and outgoing beertender told us it’s made with Motueka, Rakau, and Nelson hops. She could have told me it was made with puppies and Leprechaun shoes and I’d be like, yeah, sure. I honestly have no idea if a Nordic IPA is a real thing, or it’s just some gimmick — which, I suppose is like 93% of all beer conventions — but it looked a whole lot like one of those juicy New England IPAs that I’ve been trying to avoid for the past decade. It wasn’t bad, but definitely wasn’t what I would have ordered had I known. To be fair, she totally offered tastes to both of us before ordering, but I just went for it. My bad.
Next I ordered something I knew would be more up my alley: a Canary Lager. It came on one of those kind of bulbous pilsner mugs with the dimples in it. Probably to make me feel like less of a dork ordering a 4.6% lager. But, you know what, that thing was right up my alley. Cold, refreshing, crisp. A great, drinkable beer on a summer night. And one that wouldn’t put me over the top for a drive home. Especially since the joint closes up at ten. Which, if I’m being honest, felt a tad bit early. I was obviously nursing my beers if I only got through two in two-and-a-half hours, but it felt like they were essentially closing up from nine o’clock on. But, as I mentioned, it was mid-week and there weren’t a ton of customers. So it didn’t make sense for them to continue to act as if people were going to be rolling in at closing time. As it stood, my buddy and I were the only customers from about nine on. Once again, everyone (which was only like two people anyway) was incredibly nice, and even their packing it in didn’t make us feel pressured to finish up — especially since we were specifically told not to rush and were given a good last-call window. All-in-all, the whole thing felt very inviting and inclusive and clearly ready to welcome in the community — a community in Maplewood that I understand values that kind of thing. I’m sure the beer — there were eight on tap the night I was there — will evolve along with the business and hopefully be a pallet — sorry, a pillar — of the community for years to come.
30 Newark Way – Maplewood
201/470-4254
palletbrewing.com
