Jackson Perisutti Hansa Haus Interview

Hansa Haus has always been an exciting place for me. As a compulsive, pathological explorer and lover of beer, I am a frequent visitor. The business is apparently in two parts, as I knew it: one is Hansa Import Haus, a European grocery store specializing in beer and wine. They carry beer from such disparate lands as Belgium, Poland, Bosnia, Ukraine, and Georgia. The other is the restaurant and bar, serving German food and craft beer. For the first year after 21, my interactions with the staff consisted of picking up an odd beer to share with friends and polite conversation about the weather. One night, at the bar, my server happened to be the owner, Boris, an amusing man with a terrifically thick accent, and to my surprise, not German; Slovenian. As it seems to be with every German restaurant in Northeast Ohio, we find a lovely stack of Poles, Slovenes, and Magyars in a trench coat. It was a lively conversation we had, and one which inspired me to write about this brewery.

I arrived at the bar on Valentine’s Day, and ordered the beer I was least familiar with, Rauchbier. It was smoky, and slightly saline; it was an unexpected yet genuine flavor. “Do you like it?” The bartender asked. I did, so I inquired about its origin. “It’s mine.” He proclaimed. 

Somehow it never occurred to me that the restaurant and bar is literally a brewery. “Why does a European want to brew beer in Cleveland?”

“It is the water—Cleveland has the best water!”

“That’s funny, my European friends always complain about the water here.”

“Yes; it’s because they are assholes!” A claim which prompted laughter from a few eavesdroppers, and a claim I hope will reach the Northeast Ohio Regional Sewer District.

“I sent the water over to Europe, and they loved it.” He explained; he wanted to brew a Slovenian beer here in Cleveland, but it fell through because his European partner was engaged in funny business with the money. “Money talks, bullshit walks,” he said, borrowing a phrase from Stephen King.

He does not typically collaborate with the other breweries nearby, “Because I am an asshole!” he exclaimed, apparently his favorite phrase. There was once he tried: years back a farm in Ohio had a major surplus of hops. A group of brewery owners devised a plan to create a “Cuyahoga Common Ale”. He spared me the details on how that plan fell through, “I don’t think about it anymore”. He was fast and loose with the samples, as all good bar tenders should be, showing me different beers that related to each story. Like Winzig, the brewery’s most famous, a low octane smoked lager. Its several “Number One Beer” medals caught my eye continually through the night.

A few weeks later, I came back to learn more about the brewery itself. Boris offered to show me around. It was not a friendly place for a klutz, I could hardly navigate the pipes, carts, and piles of German brewing books. There I met Corey, the lone brewer Boris hired. He explained why Hansa Haus is so different from other breweries. Their brewing machinery is 30+ years old, an old Yugoslav system called “Lipnik”, a brand which according to my light research no longer exists. The other reason is that they make craft European beer, following the laws of Reinheitsgebot, including only sourcing wet hops from Germany. In Northeast Ohio, you will generally only find contemporary American breweries and a sparse few traditional European breweries. One style they specialize in is smoked lager. They explained how hops need to be washed then dried quickly to prevent sprouting. Today, most breweries just use hot air. Historically, they had to be roasted over a fire, imbuing them with a smoky flavor. This is a style almost entirely neglected by contemporary brewers, and a style with which they have swept brewing competitions. 

The brewery’s building and location is also unusual. Most breweries in Ohio City are located on West 25th in traditional commercial storefronts with a low ceiling. Hansa Haus, however, is located on Lorain in a building with a high, pitched roof. I inquired more about the history of the building. “I built this building in 1979. First, when I took over the business, [which had existed since 1959 in some other form] I was across the street. I bought it through a Jewish real estate agent—he was a cheap bastard!” he laughed. “This was all ghetto.”

I asked about why he came to the United States to brew, but the answer is that he didn’t. Hansa Haus is actually primarily a third business, a travel agency, and it was what he originally came here to do. He was sent by a Yugoslav travel agency to learn about American travel preferences. But quickly, he fell in love with the country, and refused to leave. “But no one was bitching when I was to be deported” he said to his side. He may describe himself as an asshole, but I am nosy, so I pushed further. He explained, “I lost my work visa, so I was to be deported, but then John Glenn saved me”

“What do you mean John Glenn saved you?” I asked.

“John Glenn, he fixed my papers. He was the only democrat I ever voted for… bunch of communists.”

I wanted to keep this community connection, and I knew this was not the time to keep pushing on such a sensitive topic. I see why his understanding of deportation is the way it is. Losing his work sponsorship was a choice to stay in the country even when Yugoslavia was calling him back. However former Ohio Governor John Glenn fixed his papers, perhaps legislatively, it was a lucky break which saved Boris from the consequences of his own decisions. Whatever the reasoning, it is the same story, often survivors of hardship pull the ladder up behind them, because that is the nature of survival. Anyone can survive, but not everyone does. But what Boris’ survival gave us is something beautiful. I invite everyone to grab a pint of Rauchbier, thank Boris, Corey, and John Glenn before your first sip, and taste the centuries of brewing, innovation, and struggle. All culminating in Cleveland, Ohio.