How it Started

Priory began in the summer of 2024, but the idea had been sitting quietly for much longer.

After stepping away from the food and beverage world for a couple of years, founder Ben Walter found himself pulled back in—carrying the same long-standing desire to build something of his own. Like a lot of chefs, he had notebooks full of ideas, concepts that came and went. Priory was one that stayed.

At the same time, something else was happening. Beer—especially the styles that once defined its depth and culture—felt like it was losing its edge. Belgian ales, saisons, the kinds of beers that reward patience and attention, were quietly disappearing. Fewer people were drinking them. Fewer places were building experiences around them. It felt like something worth preserving was being forgotten.

So instead of waiting, Priory started with a table.

The first expression was a Belgian Beer Dinner at Southside Cellar in Fort Worth. There was no real kitchen to speak of, no polished system behind it—just a full dining room and a willingness to figure it out in real time. It was scrappy, imperfect, and alive. That night, something clicked. A room full of people showed up, leaned in, and shared an experience that felt different. It wasn’t just dinner—it was a reminder of what hospitality could be.

What started as a vision for a physical space has since evolved into something more fluid. Priory is no longer tied to a single location or outcome. It moves. It collaborates. It shows up in different places, with different people, carrying the same core idea wherever it goes.

At its heart, Priory is about community. It’s about creating spaces where people can slow down, gather, and experience something intentional together. It’s a playground for ideas, but more than that, it’s a response—to noise, to speed, to a culture that rarely pauses long enough to sit at the table.

The name itself points to something older. A priory is a small community of monks—people devoted to a shared life, to rhythm, to preservation. Monastic communities didn’t just live apart from the world; they helped carry culture through it. In many ways, beer has always been part of that story.

Priory exists in that spirit—not as a replica of the past, but as a continuation of it. A small, moving community built around fermentation, food, and the table.

Looking forward, the hope is simple: that Priory finds a home without losing its movement. That it can be both rooted and roaming. That it continues to create spaces where people can gather, eat, drink, and be reminded of something deeper.

Because in the end, Priory exists for a simple reason:

Tables need to exist.