Great novelists did not just write about strong beer. Take James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” for example, undoubtedly one of the great books of the 20th century. Here we find a name-check to Lord Ardilaun and Lord Iveagh, great-great grandsons of Arthur Guinness I, and learn how Guinness is made. At one point a character is brought:

“…a crystal cup full of the foaming ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of deathless Leda. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat.”

Well, perhaps that’s not really how it’s done. But beer and brewing and breweries and brewers do pop up surprisingly often in the very best novels. For instance, you will discover in one of the great books of the 19th century, Thomas Hardy’s “The Mayor of Casterbridge,” an excellent recipe for homebrewed ale of the sort made in country pubs in the West County of England early in the 19th century:

The cannery building still stands, extensively remodeled and abutting rows of new houses. It’s now the home of the very up-to-date Dogfish Head Craft Brewery – the maker of extreme beers like 120 Minute IPA, Chicory Stout, Raison D’Être and Palo Santo Marron.

The brewery draws up to 800 visitors a week in summer and a smaller but steady stream the rest of the year. They come for the beer and to meet the people who make such oddities as Midas Touch, a drink akin to mead; Black & Blue, a Belgian-style ale fermented with blackberries and blueberries; Olde School, a barleywine fermented with dates and figs; and Fort, a raspberry beer with 18 percent alcohol by volume.

You may catch a glimpse of the founder and president, Sam Calagione, who turns 41 this spring. He started Dogfish Head in 1995 as a brewpub in Rehoboth Beach, 16 miles away. The name comes from a point of land on the coast of Maine near Boothbay Harbor, which Calagione, who is from western Massachusetts, used to visit with his parents. His wife, Mariah Calagione, is credited with bringing him and his ideas to Delaware, her native state.

Visitors flock to the Peach State’s oldest city in search of a connection to the genteel past of antebellum mansions, cobblestone streets, garden squares, fountains, trees draped in Spanish moss and deep Southern hospitality.

Savannah holds a quirky, eccentric charm that quickly endears itself to almost anyone, and its popular downtown historic district – now more beautiful than ever thanks to the restoration of countless historic homes and businesses over the last 20 years – provides an extremely pedestrian-friendly locale. Just over four hours by car from sprawling Atlanta, the city offers its guests an inviting, tranquil environment where life seems unhurried. Whether pausing in a coffee shop, relaxing on a park bench, enjoying a plate of local seafood, or admiring the architecture on a leisurely walk through its 21 squares, Savannah never fails to please. And for lovers of great beer, the city also boasts a variety of personable, Old World-style pubs and restaurants in which to imbibe, eat and relax.

San Diego’s perfect weather, sun-soaked beaches and laidback lifestyle draw a year-round influx of tourists in search of the ideal getaway. Last November, those lures took a backseat to San Diego Beer Week, a 10-day extravaganza celebrating one of the area’s most prized exports. This new event provided opportunities for tourists and locals alike to see, sip and savor the brewing mecca’s burgeoning beer culture through more than 300 events at breweries, bars, restaurants, hotels and a host of other venues throughout the namesake county.

“San Diego Beer Week further solidified our place on the map as the Napa Valley of U.S. beers,” said Chris Cramer, the co-founder of Karl Strauss Brewing Company, which was the first brewery established in San Diego post-Prohibition. “Across the board, people were wowed.”

Such a hearty inaugural effort is to be expected from an area that is home to 35 brewhouses and some of the most revered brewers in the American craft beer industry. Today, San Diego is well known as a hotbed of brewing innovation and a haven for all things imperialized, but a peek a mere 15 years in the rearview reveals a county that led the nation in Coors Light accounts, ran scarlet with ubiquitous uninspired “red ales” and was home to thankfully long-departed brewers who employed fruit juices as flavoring ingredients and used weed whackers to mix their mash.

There’s something special about passing an afternoon gazing lazily out over an emerald field with a brew in hand. For quite some time, though, beer lovers have been left with few options at their favorite team’s ballpark.

Not anymore. In recent years, parks around the country have begun tilting their selections in favor of craft and local beers. From perennial contenders for the title of best beer selection, like Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, Miller Park in Milwaukee, AT&T Park in San Francisco and Safeco Field in Seattle, to stadiums with up-and-coming lineups, like Citi Field in New York and Nationals Park in Washington, good beer has arrived at the ballgame. You might have to trek a bit to find it – or have access to high-end suites and club seating areas – but more often than not the beers you crave are there.

Things are hopping for farmers in the state of New York these days, because legislation has been introduced to allow those who raise hops to also brew and sell beer in the same location. The governor’s office, it seems, has noticed a 400 percent increase in the state’s acreage dedicated to hops in the past two years and is looking to create a “hop trail” to foster tourism as well as encourage the agricultural boom already under way.

Meanwhile, in Petaluma, California, the founder of Lagunitas Brewing, Tony Magee, has been tweeting that he’s about to start buying his brewer’s malt directly from farmers under contract – much like the movement he helped start by purchasing hops directly from the source instead of going through a dealer. The farmers talking with Magee will be able to count on steady prices and dedicate more land to the high quality barley needed for brewing.

In the city of San Francisco, there’s also a focus on leveraging the use of land in a manner directly related to the growth of the beer culture, although in this case it’s all about “airable” land. Beer gardens are starting to show up in what are known as stalled development sites – places that have been cleared but are still awaiting new construction as a result of the economic slowdown.

Our story begins as a beer writer – let’s call him Stephen – and his soon-to-be bride enter a tip-of-everyone’s-tongue kind of restaurant in Miami for the lady’s birthday dinner.

Refugees from the Canadian winter, they have discovered that Miami weather even in January can raise a significant thirst, and so our humble scribe is hoping, although not necessarily expecting, that he might find something interesting and refreshing on the restaurant’s beer list.

And lo and behold, he does! To Stephen’s delight and surprise, Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink, a critically applauded spot in Miami’s Design District, boasts a beer menu that marches from the pedestrian (PBR, presumably for would-be hipsters) to the interesting (Köstritzer Schwarzbier and Lakefront Organic ESB) and all the way to the altogether remarkable (Avery Maharaja and Barney Flats Oatmeal Stout). Even more astounding in a well-regarded culinary oasis such as this, the list covers a wide range of styles and tastes – from German pilsner to English bitter and Belgian Trappist – and contains something complementary to most of the restaurant’s main dishes. 

Of course, that was then and this is now. Two years and one global economic meltdown later, and what was then practically ground-breaking is today hardly worth mentioning. Yes, it took the near-complete decimation of the economy to do it, but beer is now more than ever a fixture at North American fine-dining restaurants.

Don’t come to the capital of the Czech Republic to find a Bohemian beer paradise; come to Prague because it’s one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

Come here to see 10 centuries of perfectly preserved architecture. Or to gawk at those few beautiful locals who haven’t yet left for modeling careers in Paris. Come here to watch a production of Don Giovanni in the jewel-box Estates Theater, where Mozart himself conducted the opera’s 1787 premiere, or come here to walk on the banks of the Vltava River and stare at the spires of the St. Vitus Cathedral, soaring above the very same castle that inspired Franz Kafka. Come here for any number of reasons, but just don’t come for the beer.

Because even though Prague is the capital of the world’s greatest beer-consuming country, I’ve often said I don’t think it’s the epicenter of Bohemian beer culture. I’ve called the city home since the summer of 2000, and a couple of years ago I counted all the Czech beers you could regularly find in Prague. Unfortunately, beers from the most interesting breweries in the Czech Republic were generally not available. Instead, hundreds of pubs in Prague seemed to offer the same two or three brands, most of which were exported internationally anyway.

So where should you go instead?

Hmmmm… Should I choose this Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout, whose logo was designed by Milton Glaser, or instead go with North Coast Brewing Company’s Belgian-style abbey ale, Brother Thelonious, which sports a hand-painted portrait of its namesake jazz legend?

Of course this is far from the thought process that connoisseurs typically go through when selecting a beer, but these days one can’t help but notice how creative beer labels and packages have become. The passionate individuality of craft brewers is certainly on display when one takes a stroll down the aisles perusing the hundreds of various brands. While collectors of vintage breweriana turn their homes into mini museums, beer stores are becoming their own form of modern art galleries.

This is the season of giving, and there is nothing better than giving back to the Earth.  Lately it seems that brewers who create wholesome products from the planet’s resources are particularly committed to programs that ensure sustainability.

In late September, a group of craft brewers, journalists and allied trade members gathered for the first Brewer’s Sustainability Guild UnConference at the Great American Beer Festival in Denver.  The summit – organized by Dan Del Grande, the co-owner of Bison Brewing in Berkeley, Calif., and Dave Rochlin, the CEO of ClimatePath, a global conservation and carbon-reducing consultancy – brought this contingency together in a collaborative effort toward sustainability.  “Virtually every brewer attending had at least one initiative in progress,” Del Grande noted afterward.