Migration Brewing is a relatively short walk from my house. (Short walks now being defined by the literal stone's throw distance separating myself and soon-to-open Coalition.) As such, it was a very welcome arrival. When they opened, they hadn't gotten their own beers up and running, so I waited until they had a pale on tap. It was ... not good. No worries; it had been brewed at Lompoc, and I figured, let them get their own system going before making hasty judgments.
The good news abounded. The food was tasty, the space is fantastic, and the other taps were occupied by an extremely well-selected (if small) group of beers. If the dismal weather ever ceases, they're going to have wonderful seating--lots of picnic tables out front, and a garage door on one wall that will turn the inside out. All of that still stands.
But last night I went and had another pint and it was ... worse. They're currently pouring two beers, that pale and the one I tried, promisingly called Little Bitter. Rather than go in whole hog, Sally and I tentatively ordered the bitter and an Upright Four (which distressingly makes rarer and rarer appearances as other Upright beers supplant it). Good call. The Little Bitter was literally undrinkable. From a good six inches away, my nose picked up the diacetyl, but the really appalling thing was the strange, lacerating bitterness. I want to say it was a tannic bitterness, but that's not quite right. More like some kind of weed extraction. Looking at the website now, the stats suggest it would be painfully, undrinkably bitter (75 IBUs in a 4.5% beer), but this was beyond hop bitterness.
I note no other bloggers have actually commented on the beer, which I take to be the silence of kindness. I'm not interested in marking Migration with a scarlet letter, either, so consider this an intervention. Migration, I have confidence you can brew good beer, but you need to get on the stick. In Beervana, bad beer is a death sentence, and I want you around the neighborhood for a good, long time.