Washington, D.C. – Amidst the overgrown lots and forgotten spaces of one of the city’s tougher neighborhoods, the once vibrant Bardo brewery, an establishment that quite literally pushed the boundaries of brewing, existed. This odd but captivating venue, known for its eclectic ambiance and award-winning beers, charted a unique course through the American craft beer scene during a time when craft beer was just gaining momentum.
Jonathan Reeves took a pay cut in 1995 to chase his brewing dreams at Bardo, becoming only the fourth person to work in its brewhouse. The original Bardo location took over a former car dealership in the Washington, D.C., suburbs, whimsically showcasing an old Plymouth Fury crashing through its facade. Yet, beneath its quirky exterior, Bardo faced operational chaos, driven by a lack of experienced personnel and, at one point, was precariously managed by dubious characters that nearly drove the brewery into the ground according to Reeves.
Despite the internal disarray, Bardo’s brews consistently earned accolades. The brewery became a pioneer in experimenting with Brettanomyces, sour beers, and Belgian styles long before they became staples in the craft beer industry. Its adventurous spirit was reflected in offerings like the barleywine that initially challenged patrons with its strength, leading to humorous revisions in its serving size after a scuffle between patrons, as shared by then-brewer Favio Garcia.
Bill Stewart, a local restaurateur, had founded Bardo in Arlington, Virginia, in 1993, turning a car dealership into a pioneering brewpub at a time when obtaining craft beers was a feat. Stewart’s Bardo churned out innovative brews such as the Marion Berry Lambic, a bold concoction named in a tongue-in-cheek homage to the D.C. mayor of the time.
After facing challenges with distribution laws and disinterest in bureaucratic navigation, Stewart relocated the brewing operations to rural Virginia in 1999. However, this move, coupled with the challenges of America’s three-tier alcohol distribution system, led to further complications. Eventually, weary of continual obstacles, Stewart ceased operations, storing his brewing equipment and moving abroad.
Bardo made a return in 2013 in Northeast D.C., initially without its signature brews due to permit issues. The spot morphed into a makeshift beer garden serving guest taps. This new incarnation embraced its own eccentric vibe, featuring improvised seating and brewing structures exposed to the elements – a stark contrast to the more polished establishments typical of changes in urban landscapes.
By 2019, Bardo had relocated again, this time near the newly vibrant Anacostia waterfront, close to the city’s major league baseball stadium. The spot was nestled between ongoing construction projects and upscale apartment buildings, a juxtaposition that encapsulated D.C.’s rapid gentrification and the evolving demands on local businesses.
The survival of craft breweries like Bardo is reflective of broader trends in alcohol consumption, particularly evident as the market sees shifting preference towards alternatives like hard seltzers amid declining beer sales post-pandemic. Bardo, in its multiple forms, seemed always to pulse with the heartbeats of its time, from its highs to its decline, embodying both the spirit and challenges of smaller craft breweries.
By 2021, Stewart had moved on, leasing the Bardo space to a new operator who transformed it into a tropical-themed garden. Yet, its once innovative and rebellious spirit only lingers in memory and stories, like those recounted by Reeves and Garcia during a nostalgic reunion, pondering the entropy and intention behind Bardo’s tumultuous journey – a microcosm of the craft beer industry’s own turbulent adventure. Bardo’s legacy serves not only as a chapter in brewing history but as a mirror reflecting the complexities of business, creativity, and culture in America’s evolving urban tapestries.