Jamie Fulton, dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, swings open the large lid on the mash tun, a large stainless-steel vat, and inspects the watery contents, which resemble a homemade soup gone horribly wrong. It’s not a misbegotten bisque or a calamitous chowder but rather the very early stages of another artisan brew at The Covey Restaurant & Brewery in Fort Worth.</p><p>At 28, Fulton is emerging as a craft-brewing <em>wunderkind</em> who is earning a national reputation. Two weeks ago, he won two silver medals at the Great American Beer Festival, and last year he earned a gold medal at the World Beer Cup. Many brewers sweat their whole careers just to place in these competitions. </p><p>And there’s more. Five of his six entries at the Los Angeles International Commercial Beer Competition this summer secured medals.</p><p>Fulton, who doesn’t lack for self-confidence, is still surprised by the wins. "I knew my beer is good, but hundreds of other breweries are also making world-class beers." </p><p>The 3-year-old Covey has been building a core of loyal fans, but many residents still are unaware that Tarrant County has a standout brewery-restaurant and enough quality beer from other award-winning sources — Rahr & Sons micro-brewery in Fort Worth and Humperdink’s brew pub in Arlington — to satisfy the most discerning beer geeks. Moreover, Uncle Buck’s Brewery and Steakhouse in Grapevine next to Bass Pro has hired a promising new brewer.</p><p>Fort Worth has long been a brewing town because of the mammoth MillerCoors brewery on the far south side, which produces popular Miller beers, as well as many Pabst brands and Foster’s. (While claiming to be "Australian for beer," it’s made in Cowtown, not Down Under, mate.) </p><p>In recent years, these mainstream pilsners have been complemented by a universe of full-flavored, locally brewed craft beers — Belgian ales, English pale ales, German black beers, barleywines, Scotch ales, Vienna lagers, India pale ales. And the list goes on in different directions. </p><p>J.B. Flowers, the gifted brewer at Rahr’s, has aged winter ale in Kentucky bourbon barrels, and Fulton recently brewed wheat beer with Texas prickly pear, another with Hill Country peaches. </p><p>So if your idea of beer is a fizzy yellow Lone Star, a very big surprise awaits. There are more styles of beer than there are of wine. Many beers go far better with food than red or white wine, and some, like Belgian-style triple ales, can be as intriguingly complex as pricey vintage chateau wines. And a good number are now made right here.</p><p><strong><span class="subhead">A tasty epiphany</span></strong></p><p>Fulton says he discovered just how good beer could taste while attending college in San Antonio. "I’ll never forget that day. Someone put a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale in my hand. I kept looking at that green label and saying, 'That’s good beer.’&#8194;"</p><p>Fulton, who grew up in Cedar Hill, began making beer during his junior year in his apartment, starting with a home-brew kit. (President Jimmy Carter legalized home-brewing in 1978, a move that would launch a number of careers in craft brewing.) Fulton’s first batch was a surprisingly palatable kölsh, the light and delicious golden beer style of Cologne, Germany. A girlfriend printed up labels that read "Summer Sizzle." </p><p>At the time, he was majoring in art history, which would land him a paid internship at the Kimbell Art Museum after he graduated from Trinity University in 2003. </p><p>He never took it. </p><p>Instead, Fulton told his father that he’d rather brew. And his father’s advice was simple: "Do it, but do it right."</p><p>Instead of deconstructing or curating oils by Brueghel, Caravaggio and other European masters, Fulton’s life pursuit now would be transforming infinite combinations of hops, malted barley, yeast and water into drinkable artistry. </p><p>Doing it right also meant that Fulton would have to bus tables at San Antonio’s Blue Star brew pub for next to nothing so the owner-brewer would let him toil for free as his assistant on brewing day. He’d wash down the brew house and lug sacks of grain and kegs. "Cleaning up was 90 percent of the work, and it was absolutely worth it for the 10 percent when we brewed," Fulton says. "I absolutely loved it." </p><p>He added to his hands-on, eight-month apprenticeship with an online brewing course from the University of California, Davis. Then he took a nine-week course at the World Brewing Academy, seven weeks in Chicago, two weeks in Munich. Afterward, he retreated to his parent’s ranch in the Wise County town of Paradise, where he developed a business plan for what would become The Covey, a microbrewery housed in an upscale restaurant. It opened in April 2006, with his parents’ help.</p><p>At first, The Covey on South Hulen Street served familiar industrial brands of bottled beer like Budweiser, Coors Light and Michelob Ultra alongside Fulton’s handcrafted lagers and ales. But after the World Cup gold for his Vienna Lager last year, Fulton said, "<em>no mas</em>." Only draft and only his own brews from then on.</p><p>Explaining what he’s after, Fulton said, "I’m not trying to reinvent anything at all. I just want it to be the best. A lady who lived in Bavaria for 10 years said mine was the best hefeweizen [German-style wheat-yeast beer] she had ever had. That tickled me. I just want to wow people."</p><p><strong><span class="subhead">Brewing risk</span></strong></p><p>A few miles east in a light industrial area just off South Main Street, J.B. Flowers is laying into his dream job as top brewer at Rahr’s, where he puts in 50 to 55 hours a week, down from 80 or 90 since majority owner Fritz Rahr, also a trained brewer, returned this summer from two years in the Virgin Islands.</p><p>Brewing is risky business, even when the end product wins big competitions. A big enough craft beer <em>culture</em> has to exist to make a microbrewery work financially, not an easy chore in a state where about three-fourths of the beer consumed is low-calorie pilsners Miller Lite and Coors Lights. Flowers is Rahr’s fifth full-time brewer in five years. And until this year, the brewery had relied on unpaid volunteers to operate the bottling line.</p><p>The brewery is now the strongest it has ever been, distributing beer statewide and constantly expanding to meet growing demand. It has been a solid group effort, but everything depends on producing consistently memorable beer — Flowers’ department.</p><p>His very first batch — Bucking Bock, a spring bock with a 7.5 percent-alcohol kick — won a coveted bronze medal at the World Cup Competition. Flowers, a gentle giant at 6-foot-1 and 240 pounds, spent much of the brewing process ignoring agonizing pain from an 11-milimeter kidney stone.</p><p>Like Fulton, Flowers began with a home-brew kit, one his brother-in-law got for Christmas more than 20 years ago. "Nothing ever tasted as good as that first one," says Flowers, recalling how he watched in fascination as grains, hops, water and yeast morphed in clear-glass carboys. </p><p>A native of Arlington, he studied civil engineering at the University of Texas at Arlington, worked as a surveyor, ran his own construction and remodeling business, set up and ran computer-aided machining software for an area manufacturing company, then created his own fabricating business when his employer sold him a unit that made parts for bass boats.</p><p>All the while, Flowers perfected his brewing at home, became active in an Arlington home-brewing association, helped out at Rahr’s and took a short professional-brewing course at UC-Davis. Two years ago, the Fort Worth microbrewery parted company with its fourth brewer, and Flowers, then 44, was asked to take over.</p><p>"I was scared to death," he says. "I didn’t have a staff to show me. I did have one big advantage that I brought to the table: I had been in business for myself, and successfully. I knew the hours that would be involved to make things work." </p><p>With his predecessor gone and Fritz Rahr working in the Caribbean, there was no transition, but Flowers met the challenge. He enforced quality standards and crafted beers that expanded the line, including an Irish red and a Scotch ale that were both his recipes, and collaborated on Blind Salamander Pale Ale and a pumpkin beer. His Scotch ale, Iron Thistle, received a gold medal as National Grand Champion at this year’s U.S. Beer Tasting Championship. </p><p>The public chores never appealed to Flowers, who reluctantly suited up as Santa Claus to promote the brand. So when Fritz Rahr returned, Flowers told him that he would like to concentrate on his brew-house responsibilities. With ramped-up production, Flowers has now produced more Rahr beer than all of his four predecessors combined.