Today, Viking Brewing Company, nee Viking Braggot Company, marks a decade in business in Eugene with live music, a new IPA release, and a party at its West Eugene location (520 Commercial St.). Beerstone caught up with co-owners Daniel McTavish and Jonna Threlkeld, and brewer Perry Ames to talk about how the company has changed over the years, and why “Braggot” had to go.

To be clear, the braggot isn’t going anywhere. The honey-infused brews will still make up a significant percentage of Viking’s output. What’s shifted is the expectation that all of the brews will have honey. That frees up Ames to brew, for example, a classic (and tasty) Mexican lager. It also reduces confusion: few people know what the hell a braggot is.

It became clear that the name needed to change when the Covid pandemic hit.

“We wanted to be more approachable to people,” says McTavish. Since the beginning, part of his job was educating customers on what braggot is (traditionally, a blend of beer and mead; in Viking’s case, a beer brewed with 15-30% honey as the fermentable sugar). Without face-to-face contact, the educational opportunity was lost.

“As a budding company, you stick to your guns,” says Threlkeld. “The people who love it really love it. Through Covid and after, why would we want this roadblock to getting people in the door? We didn’t need to be fighting that battle anymore.”

In addition, the slogan, Pillage Responsibly, and logo, a Viking helmet atop a masculine mouth and beard, were becoming outdated. Threlkeld especially felt the need for change.

“When we opened [the Southtowne pub] in 2018, we learned a lot. Peoples’ responses who’d never heard of us, and Pillage Responsibly was not well received. It was right during the #MeToo movement. The logo was ovular, which doesn’t market well, and it was gendered. The new logo signifies all of us and where the company has gone.”

Ames, who has helmed Viking’s brewhouse for all ten years, adds, “There’s always been an aspect of toxic masculinity with the Viking thing; anything we can do to let people know that that’s not us, we can get behind that.”

Threlkeld followed up: “January 6th happened, and you see this Viking person that we don’t side with, and hateful cultures have appropriated what being a Viking means. We counter that [the Vikings were] more worldly, that it’s more a lifestyle and ethnicity. How do we, without politicizing ourselves, be more inclusive, and show that we ain’t that kind of Viking?

McTavish was reluctant to make the change, at first. “Initially it was tough. It took a long time to get on board; when you’ve been doing the same thing for so long, change is hard. I knew it was going to be an uphill battle, that braggot is niche. Once Jonna was floating the idea, I was not about it. That’s our thing. But seeing it now and being Viking Brewing, it’s so much better, more professional, night and day.”

“We’re excited for this uncharted territory: brewing beer!”

McTavish and his former business partner, Addison Stearn, started Viking under no pretense that it would be easy. Between the unfamiliar name (nope, it’s not braggart) and the way honey augmented their brews’ flavor profiles, the niche beverage wasn’t for everyone.

Viking was born out of a group of University of Oregon students who began homebrewing around 2010. They called themselves the Brew of O, and, with that good ol’ college energy, produced a lot of beer; some of it quite good. Several of them are still in the beer industry today.

The early years were full of experimentation on the 3.5 barrel system. The beer was served from a makeshift kegerator, and the patio, now well foliated, was bare hot macadam, cornhole, and a couple picnic tables.

Viking grew a strong cult following early on. The braggots weren’t hop forward, and many folks were looking for something new, less bitter.

“The people who love us really love us,” says Threlkeld, “and we have a loyal following, especially out here at the brewery. We don’t want to shock or take anything away from them.”

Charting a course away from honey must be done deliberately, according to Ames.

“At first I was like, ‘which one should we keep?’ Tundra cream ale has meadowfoam honey, which is a big aspect of its flavor. Same with our bigger brews like the barleywine. Others are a little harder to taste; I can weed them out because I don’t taste the honey a lot. If we had half of our flagships have honey in them, that would be fine.”

Though it may sound strange, Ames’ first official beer without honey was a Mexican lager, called Mountain. It’s as crisp as could be, no frills. River beer.

At the ten year mark, with this big change in place, Viking looks to improve on what it has built so far.

“We’re growth oriented,” says Threlkeld. “During Covid, we expanded into new revenue streams. We have a food truck, mobile beer van, catering. Now we want to expand those aspects of our business, increasing our team. The bar here will probably have a renovation when we get cocktails. We want to improve the patio at Southtowne.

On the liquid side, Ames wants to engage with the staff at the Southtowne pub. I’d like to do more internal collaboration – pairing dinners or working with the bar staff and doing whiskey pairings. Getting everybody more in touch internally. Now that we’re doing more beer brewing, entering competitions. I think it’d be good for me personally to get some competition feedback and work on dialing in my brewing. I’d also like to judge more.”

Viking’s ten year anniversary party kicked off last night with live music from surf rock group El Borko. It continues tonight with the last performance by local string trio Sage Vagabond and Viking’s house band, Bake Club. The IPA release, Viking Funeral, fits Viking’s milieu: balanced, with some citrus and tropical hop notes and soft malt sweetness.