I’m standing before a large blackboard with the words “Give A Beer, Take A Beer.” Tacked all across the surface are Polarids with captions like “Nurse,” “Parent’s Date Night,” “Someone Who Needs a Hug,” and my personal favorite, “Tell your dog I say ‘hi’!” The photos are a cornucopia, a rainbow of people in various poses, or beer glasses. A sign in the lower right-hand corner explains: “See yourself reflected in these photos? Remove the photo and redeem at the front counter for a free beer.” Here, amongst the faded photos tacked on with plain silver magnets, you’ll find the DNA of Métier Brewing Company.
Poetically translated from French, métier means one’s calling or destiny. But MBC, as the brewery is commonly known, doesn’t just stand for Métier Brewing Company; it’s also an abbreviation for My Beloved Community, according to Métier Brewing CEO and Co-Founder Rodney Hines. You’ll see these thoughtful touches all across the Seattle-based brewery’s taproom.
Turn your back on the “Beer It Forward” board, and you’ll notice three large black panels on the wall sporting bold words: “Brew Damn Good Beer,” “Build Stronger Community,” and “Inspire Bigger Dreams For All.”
In one corner, an almost floor-to-ceiling flag, a version of the Progress Pride Flag, stands silent like a sentry, guarding the community space while proudly saying to the outside world that inside, all are welcome.
Art from People of Color dots the walls, while plaques from those who have contributed to MBC are stacked on a post separating the front and back. Next to the bar, a pop-up kitchen houses a local Black chef who prepares a blend of Middle Eastern and Southern food.
And behind the bar, a mirror reflects precisely what Hines wants people to see when they walk into MBC: themselves in a space meant for them.
In a sea of sameness, MBC stands out like the Space Needle on the Seattle skyline, which is why we named them one of our “11 Best Breweries of 2024.”
This isn’t just a brewery; this is a beloved community.
From Paso Robles to Cherry Street
Two years ago, at the Firestone Walker Invitational Beer Festival, I struck up a conversation with Erin, who runs sales and distribution for MBC. She told me about the incredible Black-owned brewery in Seattle, fostering a community unlike any other.
I made a mental note: If I ever traveled to the Pacific Northwest, Métier would be at the top of my list.
Which is how I found myself enjoying a few beers with Hines at the brewery’s second location on Cherry Street last October.
Sporting a tan crew neck with the letters MBC stitched across the chest, Hines exuded this casual coolness. When he speaks, his hands often move intentionally, illustrating a point. When he listens, his eyes lock on you in concentration.
In the space between words, Hines’ mind seems to whir like bicycle tires ebendlessly spinning silently.
He isn’t just pretending to be next to you; he is present in the moment, savoring the beer and the conversation.
Humble to the core, Hines pauses conscientiously before answering my first question: How did you get into beer?
“It always feels weird to answer that question,” he admits.
After college, Hines started homebrewing with friends, one of who majored in biochemistry, because, he says, “I couldn’t afford all the good beer that I wanted to drink.”
He gave almost a nervous laugh at that admission, his smile causing his perfectly trimmed mustache to dance a little.
Hines remembers spending a semester abroad in England, attending some of his classes in pubs. He fell in love with the community vibes.
Back in the States, Hines says he found the closest thing he could, which at the time in Boston was Sam Adams. He’d often sit in the brewery’s little pub just for a beer.
He soaked up the beer and the community, and those gears in his mind whirred.
“I’d show up in those spaces, and I wouldn’t see others who looked like me,” he says. “I wanted to be a part of creating a space that felt welcoming and inviting to all of us.”
While working as the director of U.S. social impact and eventually city strategy at Starbucks, Hines wondered, “How do you create inviting, welcoming spaces for everyone in the community? And how do you do that specifically in the Black and Brown communities?”
Tucked away in a corner, that thought rooted itself in Hines until a chance encounter changed everything.
While training for a long bike ride with his now co-founder Todd Herriott, “He randomly mentioned one day that he built breweries,” laughs Hines. “He had no clue I was a homebrewer.”
In 2018, Hines and Herriott teamed up to open Métier Brewing Company.
Métier Brewing Company, My Beloved Community
For the last six years and now spanning three locations, MBC has also stood for “My Beloved Community,” which Hines says may sound “sappy,” but it’s the absolute spirit of the business.
Looking around, Hines points out that many of the people sitting in the taproom while we chatted were either women or People of Color. “I don’t know how often you walk into a brewery and see that,” he says.
For Hines, these are the moments that matter the most. “I’ve seen older women of all races sitting alone, either reading or at their laptop, or I see groups of women, women of color, white women, just sitting alone and enjoying their space,” he says. “That’s part of the culture of creating a beloved community and everyone feeling welcomed.”
You’ll see those moments of magic everywhere at Métier, from the art on the wall made by folks of color to each can telling a story to various events.
When I first walked in, Métier Marketing and Communications Manager Taelore Rhoden pointed out the brewery’s events calendar. “It’s a really beautiful snapshot of what we have going on,” she told me, calling the taproom a “super community space.”
A quick glance showed pup meetups, live music, salsa night, plant making, and candlemaking, to name a few.
Above the bar, a triptych by mixed media artist and photograph LeLeita McKILL shows the outline of four friends sitting on a fence. The painting reminds Hines of his childhood, “but it feels like when you walk in and see that it might be a connection for any of us,” he expresses. “I want people to … through our beer, through the space, through the strangers they may meet in the space, through our team members, to feel some affinity, some connection with who we are and what we’re doing.”
But make no mistake: The common thread here is beer.
Brewing Damn Good Award-Winning Beer
“We can’t do anything unless we brew damn good award-winning beer,” laughs Hines.
Such as the Black Stripe – Coconut Porter, Métier’s first award-winning beer, which picked up a silver medal at the Washington Beer Awards.
Made with roasted coconut flakes, this 5.5% ABV porter has a very pronounced roasted flavor with a luscious mouthfeel.
In many ways, the Coconut Porter acts as a gateway. People who are self-proclaimed non-beer drinkers will come in for an event or with friends, but once Hines can get them to try the Coconut Porter…it’s a game-changer.
“They’ll tell me they don’t like beer, but when I bring them this beer, they’re surprised,” he shares. “Well, if you like this, you like beer!”
If you listen carefully enough, you’ll hear the beer not only speaking for itself but also telling you a story.
For instance, when I visited, I tried a collab called Ancestry Dreams, brewed with Queer Latino brewery El Sueñito.
“It ties back to the fact that we’re both folks of color and are truly ancestors of our dreams,” says Hines.
Another, an American IPA called Central Calling, is a nod to the Central District neighborhood, a historically Black community in Seattle.
“Central Calling is a jubilant host to the Central District and other historic Black neighborhoods,” Hines reads from the beer’s notes. “A time our parents, aunties, uncles, grandparents, and friends danced, laughed, and sang in jazz clubs and jukeboxes, juke drinks, house parties, family reunions, and embracing calling to live and fill the body.”
On the can, designed by Damon Brown aka Creative Lou, you’ll see a Black couple moving under a rainbow of lights. “I think about my mom and her brother-in-law dancing,” says Hines, who predicted this will be the brewery’s next award-winning beer. “Aunties, uncles, grandparents, and their friends kicking back and enjoying a moment of joy in life.”
Hines says he wants people to look at the can and “feel like no matter where you are, this beer feels like home.”
Much like Métier itself.
“I wouldn’t say the calling of destiny is just the beer,” says Hines, referring back to Métier’s French translation. “It starts with the beer, but it is this community, the people who impact us, and the people we get to impact; it’s what happens here.”
Proudly Black, Proudly Inclusive, Proudly for the Future
MBC is a space for anyone searching for a space. Do you understand what we mean?
Walking in feels very much like returning after a long trip, throwing your suitcases on the floor, kicking off your shoes, and plopping down with a contented sigh on the couch…just add a beer in your hand.
“When I walk in and see tables of Black and Brown folks, particularly women, just sitting in a dream space,” says Hines, “I have to stop myself from tearing up at times.”
Hines wants to make sure that everyone who comes into one of Métier’s three taprooms feels seen, feels like they can walk up to the bar and see themselves reflected, literally and figuratively.
That they can amble up to a blackboard full of Polaroids tacked to the wall and see a snapshot of themselves, whether they’re a nurse, a dog-lover, a Person of Color, Queer, or what have you.
As my eyes rove over the photos, little magical moments in time, Hines shares one of his favorites from a customer they hadn’t seen in a while. When she finally came back, she shared with Hines that she had lost her father to the global pandemic. “She bought fifteen beers,” says Hines, “for the next fifteen people who had lost a loved one to COVID.”
Funny enough, Rhoden chimes in, “People really enjoy giving beer, but not enough people take the beer!”
Which probably tells you all you need to know about MBC and this beloved community; it loves to give more than take.
As I left, passing by the signs stamped with the brewery’s mission to “Brew Damn Good Beer” and “Inspire Bigger Dreams For All,” I thought about what kind of Polaroid I’d add to the board.
“If you’ve left a beer for someone else but haven’t taken a beer yourself.”