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Culture / Restaurants

Beer Kid

Son of Restaurant King Builds a Low-Key Craft Beer Brewery Power

BY // 01.05.17
photography Scot Redman

“Dream job when I was young? I think it went in the following order: Ninja Turtle, Power Ranger, lawyer, poker dealer, bartender, beer guy,” says 32-year-old Sam Wynne, son of prominent restaurateur Shannon Wynne.

His sense of humor lends itself to the easy-come, easy-go vibe that permeates his Deep Ellum watering hole, Braindead Brewing, which he opened last year. Attributing his first love of the craft beer revolution to his time working at The Flying Saucer Draught Emporium — which his father first opened back in 1995 — Sam is now the purveyor of his own craft.

“Restaurants and breweries are living, breathing entities between the four walls,” he says. “It’s a concert, and everyone plays their part.”

About to launch a 1,400-square-foot expansion of his Main Street brewery, the stud of suds certainly shares a knack for the culinary biz with his father, who most recently opened hot spots Meddlesome Moth, Lark on the Park, and Mudhen Meat and Greens.

“[Shannon] has done so much over the years,” says Sam. “He’s always worth listening to, but I don’t necessarily follow the advice — for better or for worse.”

In addition to running the brewery, Sam has synced up with the nonprofit world, helping raise more than $10,000 for Brain Injury Network of Dallas, Guns and Hoses, and other first-responder charities — all within the last few months. His cup, as they say, runneth over.

Go-to condiment.
How do you pick between mustard and mayo? Maybe a good Japanese Kewpie mayo.

You’re home sick. Best comfort food.
Really sick? A Ten Ramen delivery would make my day. Hangover sick? Tacos from Tacos La Banqueta or enchiladas from Rafa’s.

Midnight snack.
Pistachios or a freezer pop.

Favorite restaurant outside of Dallas.
El Ideas in Chicago. A Michelin star, no dress code, and BYOB. Come as you are, enjoy yourself, and get blown away by the food. Maybe take a shot with the chefs? Good times.

For your last meal, you’d order …
Maybe something crazy, a delicacy that could kill you — like blowfish or something.

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