A community-driven, small-batch brewery where the tap list is never the same twice. Up to seventeen rotating beers, brewed in tiny lots and named for the stories we tell around the table.
Brewed in four-barrel lots, gone when they're gone. Here's the legend we're pouring this week. Ask the bar for a pour of anything still aging in the back.
Crisp as a cold morning and twice as bright. Saaz and Strata hops over a snappy, bone-dry finish: the beer we'd hand a stranger to make them a regular.
A roaming, juice-forward haze of ripe mango and tangerine peel. Soft on the tongue, long on the chase. Our most-requested legend, brewed nearly every cycle.
Cloudy, gentle, and faintly spiced, a quiet blessing of a beer. Brewed with Cache la Poudre wheat and a whisper of chamomile from the farmers' market.
Cocoa nib, cold espresso, and a cascade you can watch settle. Pitch-dark but feather-light: the toll you pay gladly to cross into the back garden.
Toasted bread crust, a flicker of caramel, and a clean Bavarian snap. Four weeks of cold conditioning for a lager that drinks like a held breath.
Tart, ruby, and wickedly refreshing. Fifty pounds of Palisade raspberries per batch over a lightning-sharp sour base. Crowned with a thorny, lingering finish.
Fig, toffee, leather, and a slow bourbon warmth. Aged a full year-plus in Colorado whiskey barrels. Five-ounce pours only; this one's for the long stories.
All the punch of an IPA with the clarity of a lager. Crackling-dry, pine and grapefruit, fermented cold and fast. Sharp-edged and electric.
The taproom is a stage as much as a bar. Here's what's coming up this season: all free unless noted, all welcome.
Five rounds of folklore, history, and absolute nonsense. Winning table drinks free. Bring your cleverest crew of six.
Free · WeeklyOne firkin, tapped at sundown, never to be brewed again. This year: a sage-and-honey saison. When it's gone, the legend's done.
Special ReleaseA neighbor spins records all night, you sip something slow. Bring a record to add to the queue. Quiet, golden, unhurried.
Free · MonthlyTwenty local makers fill the beer garden: pottery, prints, pickles, and the Cinder & Sage taco truck parked out front till close.
Family DayWe built Mythmaker to be the kind of place you walk into alone and leave with five new friends. No velvet rope, no pretense: just long communal tables, a fire in the garden, and a bartender who remembers your name.
Mythmaker started, like most good legends do, in a garage on the west side of town. Dana and Eli Hartwell brewed five-gallon batches for friends, then for friends-of-friends, then for a line out the door every Friday that the garage could no longer hold.
The name came from a question they kept asking: what makes a place worth coming back to? Not the beer alone; it's the stories that get told over it. So they decided to build a brewery that brews both. Every batch gets a name and a tale; every regular becomes part of the lore.
Today we pour up to seventeen taps out of a converted forge off Founders Way, malt grown an hour north, and a community that treats this place like a second living room. The beer keeps changing. The welcome never does.
Dana & Eli Hartwell, founders
Tucked into the old forge district on the west side, a short ride down the Poudre Trail. Pull up a stool. We'll be here.
Kitchen trucks roll in around 5. Last call thirty minutes before close. Crowlers filled till the lights go up.
Seventeen taps, a fire in the garden, and a seat with your name on it. No reservations. Just come.