In the beginning, as is the unfortunate fact about most history, there was a meeting. In a small,
dank, cramped office, which is actually a nice breathable size for bodies that have not endured
years in the beer industry, we, the 2SP Brew Crew, had one of those lofty conversations full of
sound and fury about what we were setting out to do. Who are we; what are we; where are we
The American literary critic Leslie Fielder once said something along the lines that being an
American, unlike being French or Russian or whatever, is to imagine a destiny rather than inherit
one. Unfortunately this idea is dimming in politics and barely has a pulse in business today.
Nepotism and cronyism, like meetings, are apathetically accepted as part of our reality. And yet,
when we sat there, I realized, none of us come “from money” or are the descendants of moguls. We were a bunch of public school guys from the Northeast. And each one of us, cramped in that sweaty matchbox room, were, with wide
contours/waistlines, self-made men.
Who were we: Barrar, a Delco native that put in years of work to perfect and consistently be
awarded for his craft; Stigz, a wide-eyed chef who took a risk in opening his own restaurant;
Muse, a beer nerd who had the foretaste for crafting the best beer menus in the state; Contreras, a
former academic who listened to his mom’s sage advice and became a beer salesman; Rubenstein, a
quietly confident brewer that knows how to hedge his bets and Ruthig, a sucker for emojis and
irony, a man renewed by opportunity to pave his own way.
When people ask what 2SP is about, it is this idea above all, that some things shouldn’t be so
apathetically accepted (whenever I try calling a meeting here, I get a thousand yard stare from
Barrar and numerous “fuck you’s” are heard in anticipation). And I can’t imagine a better place to have this idea be made real than in Delco.