Nov 30, 2009
Bad Times
Hey everyone. After a long weekend of drinking and merriment, I was interrupted at work Sunday with news of a family emergency. I will be back in blog-land Wednesday, but right now, there are more important things. Be well everyone.
Nov 25, 2009
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
Oh my. I'm indulging in my old love (my girlfriend) and my new love (barleywine). If you have never had barleywine, find your closest stressed-out friend, share a bottle of barleywine, and slip into a relaxation heretofore unknown.
Before I drop off the map entirely for a day of relaxation, I recently made a trip to my local Whole Foods in search of seasonal and seasonally appropriate (big difference) beers for this week's festivities. The backstory on this is that Dogfish Head and Sierra Nevada have fulfilled the will of the gods and collaborated on a beer. It is called Life and Limb, and aside from getting monster reviews all over the interwebs, it also has the most beautiful label ever.
I inquired about whether they were carrying this beer STRICTLY because I thought they wouldn't have it, and that the deprivation and delayed gratification created by this response would take me back to my joyless childhood. Pretty standard right? Woe is me, they actually had it. But in a sick and perverse fulfillment of my initial expectation, it hadn't been entered into the system and so was not for sale yet. Bribery? Nope. Sweet-talk? Nu-uh. The Whole Foods beer guy was wonderfully knowledgeable and tragically fixated on "not being fired". Such was my luck, but with some effort, I expect to get to my hands on a bottle. And the dope-ass t-shirt.
Because of job craziness and holiday preparations, the blog was AWOL this week. I know, I know. Who will force his friends to read about his esoteric passion without me on the scene? Um . . . I don't know. Forget about blogging and the internet and the 24-hour news cycle. Sit back, crack open one of the ten million delicious seasonal beers on the market now, and enjoy quality time with some friends. I will be back next week with organic beers, seasonal beers, imperials and barleywines galore . . . *salivates* . . . ahem. Anyway, thanks for reading, and it is officially the season to drink with your peoples. Peace to all.
Before I drop off the map entirely for a day of relaxation, I recently made a trip to my local Whole Foods in search of seasonal and seasonally appropriate (big difference) beers for this week's festivities. The backstory on this is that Dogfish Head and Sierra Nevada have fulfilled the will of the gods and collaborated on a beer. It is called Life and Limb, and aside from getting monster reviews all over the interwebs, it also has the most beautiful label ever.
I inquired about whether they were carrying this beer STRICTLY because I thought they wouldn't have it, and that the deprivation and delayed gratification created by this response would take me back to my joyless childhood. Pretty standard right? Woe is me, they actually had it. But in a sick and perverse fulfillment of my initial expectation, it hadn't been entered into the system and so was not for sale yet. Bribery? Nope. Sweet-talk? Nu-uh. The Whole Foods beer guy was wonderfully knowledgeable and tragically fixated on "not being fired". Such was my luck, but with some effort, I expect to get to my hands on a bottle. And the dope-ass t-shirt.
Because of job craziness and holiday preparations, the blog was AWOL this week. I know, I know. Who will force his friends to read about his esoteric passion without me on the scene? Um . . . I don't know. Forget about blogging and the internet and the 24-hour news cycle. Sit back, crack open one of the ten million delicious seasonal beers on the market now, and enjoy quality time with some friends. I will be back next week with organic beers, seasonal beers, imperials and barleywines galore . . . *salivates* . . . ahem. Anyway, thanks for reading, and it is officially the season to drink with your peoples. Peace to all.
Nov 19, 2009
Beef: Food Pairings?
No no white people. I mean "beef" like "conflict". It isn't really beef, maybe just a spirited debate. If you haven't, go check out A Good Beer Blog. It's . . . um . . . a really good beer blog. Seriously. Creator and editor Alan McLeod is a fantastic writer and he has been wonderfully kind to me regarding my young efforts when I have contacted him. But a couple days ago, he posted this article he wrote about food and beer pairing. If you don't feel like going there (doitanyway), basically his point is that enjoying beer with food should be exactly that: enjoying, instead of memorializing and deifying some sort of taste experience. Now, as a food nerd, I shudder a little at this. One reason I love working in the restaurant industry, and one of the main reasons I love writing here, is that I find it exhilarating and joyous to describe (or attempt to describe) complex flavors and aromas. However, the bit of writing he cites as an example of a certain disconnect between current beer writing and beer consuming is postiviely cringe-worthy. Here it is, live from The Age via A Good Beer Blog:
It might be presumptuous, but I'm going to chime in to this conversation with these two fantastic writers. On one hand, I completely agree with Mr. McLeod. There is nothing that can touch a good beer in a comfortable chair with some friends. It is times like those where even the beer can be simple, let alone the food. Nothing derails a day of football like me telling everyone what notes to look for in their beer (trust me). But on the other hand, why not? Why not dive into the complexities and interactions of a good beer's relationship to a good meal? There is a time and a place (and I think that the article cited above proves there is a style . . . yikes), but there is most certainly room for that level of interaction.
Beer gets into the nooks and crannies of food that wine can only dream of. As a matter of fact, I've stumbled on to more good beer and food pairings by accident than I have had even suggested to me for wine. Inevitably, someone from some paper or other is going to stroll in and, seeing the next big thing, try to rub his/her burgeoning expertise in everyone's face. It turns into a "who is more knowledgable" contest faster than a Pitchfork readers' convention. But we can't let a couple bad apples ruin our fun. If this guy's writing helps me get a decent meal at my local brewpub, then ultimately I have to be for it. How many potato skins must a man eat?
But Mr. McLeod, being a good writer, doesn't stop there. He goes on to make a provocative point. He feels that this sort of writing and some of craft beer's haughty behavior in general is "marketing into a niche". I touched upon this a little with my second day post on the IGBE, but it is one of the prevailing questions that faces craft beer now. How should it be presented? Ultimately, there will be no one particular way. But what will be the overall feel? Mr. McLeod is almost certainly more knowledgeable than me on this, but I have begun to investigate (via some interviews and conversations) what the feeling is on how craft beer is presented now versus how it should be presented in the long run. Do we view it an upscale alternative to washed-out corporate nastiness and risk alienating people, or should it be marketed as an everyone drink while possibly sacrificing the opportunity to bring beer into finer restaurants and higher regard?
This blog doesn't yet have a particularly active comments section, but I would very interested in hearing what readers have to say. What is your perception of craft beer? Do blogs like this help your perception? What about the article in question? I am going to cover this a great deal more, so please, LEAVE RESPONSES. Let's get some violence going in the comments . . .
"...beer is also great as a cleanser in the middle of a meal." A meeting with the makers of his cleanser of choice — Red Hill's Golden Ale, which he served topped with a kaffir lime foam — at an earlier Taste event, led to a joint venture in which he created a degustation menu matched with their beers. Taking the flavours of the beers as his starting point, he came up with dishes a world away from the humble meat pie... Among the fare was the aforementioned smoked trout appetiser along with pairings of Red Hill's heavier Hop Harvest and Scotch ales with slow-cooked Sher wagyu, smoked ox tongue, skordalia and grains, a wheat beer with Locheilan brie, banana bread and plum jam, and a powerful Imperial Stout with a treacle tart served with an impossibly rich sticky toffee pudding ice-cream.Wow. Honestly, I know El Bulli wins Greatest Restaurant in the Galaxy every year, but is there anything less appetizing than fucking delicious food turned into FOAM? "Yeah the texture of this salmon is beautiful, but I just prefer FOOOOOAAAAMM." That has never been said, nor will it be said. So, yes this bit of writing is pretentious and awful, and I agree with Mr. McLeod's assertion in the comments section that "nerds need to be called out when they call themselves VIPs." (Ed. note: *dead*) But as the fantastic Stephen Beaumont points out when debating a seperate article, "I just don't want to be served slop when I'm out having a beer". I'm all over this. There is nothing more despairing than drinking a fantastic beer from a jubilant selection and being served useless, nothing food (*cough*Gingerman*cough*).
It might be presumptuous, but I'm going to chime in to this conversation with these two fantastic writers. On one hand, I completely agree with Mr. McLeod. There is nothing that can touch a good beer in a comfortable chair with some friends. It is times like those where even the beer can be simple, let alone the food. Nothing derails a day of football like me telling everyone what notes to look for in their beer (trust me). But on the other hand, why not? Why not dive into the complexities and interactions of a good beer's relationship to a good meal? There is a time and a place (and I think that the article cited above proves there is a style . . . yikes), but there is most certainly room for that level of interaction.
Beer gets into the nooks and crannies of food that wine can only dream of. As a matter of fact, I've stumbled on to more good beer and food pairings by accident than I have had even suggested to me for wine. Inevitably, someone from some paper or other is going to stroll in and, seeing the next big thing, try to rub his/her burgeoning expertise in everyone's face. It turns into a "who is more knowledgable" contest faster than a Pitchfork readers' convention. But we can't let a couple bad apples ruin our fun. If this guy's writing helps me get a decent meal at my local brewpub, then ultimately I have to be for it. How many potato skins must a man eat?
But Mr. McLeod, being a good writer, doesn't stop there. He goes on to make a provocative point. He feels that this sort of writing and some of craft beer's haughty behavior in general is "marketing into a niche". I touched upon this a little with my second day post on the IGBE, but it is one of the prevailing questions that faces craft beer now. How should it be presented? Ultimately, there will be no one particular way. But what will be the overall feel? Mr. McLeod is almost certainly more knowledgeable than me on this, but I have begun to investigate (via some interviews and conversations) what the feeling is on how craft beer is presented now versus how it should be presented in the long run. Do we view it an upscale alternative to washed-out corporate nastiness and risk alienating people, or should it be marketed as an everyone drink while possibly sacrificing the opportunity to bring beer into finer restaurants and higher regard?
This blog doesn't yet have a particularly active comments section, but I would very interested in hearing what readers have to say. What is your perception of craft beer? Do blogs like this help your perception? What about the article in question? I am going to cover this a great deal more, so please, LEAVE RESPONSES. Let's get some violence going in the comments . . .
Nov 18, 2009
Sam Adams: A Barrel of Fun
Here is my take on Sam Adams. Honestly, I generally don't enjoy the taste of their beers. But their heart is always in the right place. They clearly value their craft, and just because I don't agree with their tastes doesn't mean I don't respect their process. Also, they were pioneers of some pretty radical stuff, bringing a lot of European styles into the mainstream American beer vocabulary. Plus, they are independent, so the fact that they have taken a small Boston-area brewery and turned it into a publicly traded company in around twenty years is impressive. They never compromised and never sold out. Their president Jim Koch is a jovial and enthusiastic face in the craft beer industry, and his beers have been responsible for a lot of people allowing themselves to become more adventurous with their palates. I myself owe a great deal of my endless search for new tastes to them. Let's face it: when you don't know much about beer, a honey porter or cherry wheat is pretty mind-blowing. These beers, and several others of theirs, redefined my beer vocabulary and expanded what I thought I knew about beer. So thanks Sam Adams. I'll be sending you the bill for my jaundice medication.
In addition to all of this, many people have mentioned how they are a pretty good barometer on trends. Well, as if to cement this reputation, they are getting in pretty early on one of the hottest (and best and tastiest) trends on the market now: barrel-aging.
The first barrel-aged beer I ever had was Brooklyn Black Ops, a dark, 10%-plus alcohol stout aged in a bourbon barrel, and I would definitely recommend giving it a whirl if you can find it/afford the exorbitant $20 per bottle your local Whole Foods says it is worth. The flavors a barrel can impart are just not replicable any other natural way, and barrel-aging is an art that I am excited to see re-grow. After being mostly lost for decades, the art of barrel-aging inevitably has not been perfected by our generation of brewers, and so I imagine these brews getting better and better as time goes on.
As reported on Wicked Local (come on Boston, you're better than thaaaa . . . nevermind), the Boston Beer company is creating a line of barrel-aged beers cleverly titled the Barrel Room Collection. I would imagine the Barrel Room is filled with old-timey telescopes and that it looks a lot like something out of Myst. Is that just me? Anyway, they have just released the first three beers in the line: American Kriek (a kriek is a beer fermented with cherries that skews sour), the New World Tripel, and the Stoney Brook Red. Additionally they are busting out the fun bacteria and obscure yeast combos to give these beers unique flavors in addition to the barrels. I have to say, I'm dying to try these. Sad thing is, they are only going to be sold in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Colorado . . . . Okay Massachusetts I get, but New Hampshire? Colorado?
I live in NYC assholes. I demand satisfaction.
Conversely, I have no interest in their Utopias collection which was apparently aged in a bank vault. No. I'm just hating. I desperately want to try them. But $150? Let's be real. That's eighty Colt 45's.
In addition to all of this, many people have mentioned how they are a pretty good barometer on trends. Well, as if to cement this reputation, they are getting in pretty early on one of the hottest (and best and tastiest) trends on the market now: barrel-aging.
The first barrel-aged beer I ever had was Brooklyn Black Ops, a dark, 10%-plus alcohol stout aged in a bourbon barrel, and I would definitely recommend giving it a whirl if you can find it/afford the exorbitant $20 per bottle your local Whole Foods says it is worth. The flavors a barrel can impart are just not replicable any other natural way, and barrel-aging is an art that I am excited to see re-grow. After being mostly lost for decades, the art of barrel-aging inevitably has not been perfected by our generation of brewers, and so I imagine these brews getting better and better as time goes on.
As reported on Wicked Local (come on Boston, you're better than thaaaa . . . nevermind), the Boston Beer company is creating a line of barrel-aged beers cleverly titled the Barrel Room Collection. I would imagine the Barrel Room is filled with old-timey telescopes and that it looks a lot like something out of Myst. Is that just me? Anyway, they have just released the first three beers in the line: American Kriek (a kriek is a beer fermented with cherries that skews sour), the New World Tripel, and the Stoney Brook Red. Additionally they are busting out the fun bacteria and obscure yeast combos to give these beers unique flavors in addition to the barrels. I have to say, I'm dying to try these. Sad thing is, they are only going to be sold in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Colorado . . . . Okay Massachusetts I get, but New Hampshire? Colorado?
I live in NYC assholes. I demand satisfaction.
Conversely, I have no interest in their Utopias collection which was apparently aged in a bank vault. No. I'm just hating. I desperately want to try them. But $150? Let's be real. That's eighty Colt 45's.
Nov 17, 2009
Live at the International Great Beer Expo (Part 2 of 2)
I think it was telling that, as I walked around sampling over the course of the afternoon, the fact that I had a notebook and was writing down my observations seemed to draw disproportionate attention. This was not so much a "tasting" filled with adventurous minds as a huge room full of 750 people willing to pay $48 to drink an unlimited amount of beer for four hours. However, this only served to make my interactions with the brewers and their reps even more rewarding. They seemed relieved to talk to someone who actually had beer knowledge, and I was more than happy to converse with people who personally embody the qualities that help make craft beer so appealing to me: rebellious and eccentric, yet kind and personable. They have the genius of more "traditional" artists without the pretension and self-seriousness. The backdrop of frosted fauxhawk-sporting goons? It only made me feel luckier to have gotten to the secrets held within every glass. They are there for you too. If this blog has one purpose, it is to encourage everyone to throw off the stereotypical image of beer as frat-guy swill and seek out the beauty and artistry of carefully- and lovingly-made beer.
On the less dignified side of things, I got drunk. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't a fall-down, tear-filled, miserable drunk; it was a very happy drunk. But by the end of the day, I was drunk. As I mentioned at the end of the last post, the accepted maximum for beers in a tasting is twelve. My total for the day (as best I can recall) was something like twenty (ed. note: TWENTY). Admittedly, in the middle, my taste buds were reduced to mush and I briefly shifted to enjoying beers that I had already had at some point. The beers are so important to their brewers, and it would be disrespectful to taste them for the first time with anything less than a crisp palate. So at this point (right after the Amarillo Anonymous that closed the last post), I chilled out, had a hot dog, and recuperated in the food court. I drank lots of water and tried to get my focus back for the second half of the day.
On the less dignified side of things, I got drunk. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't a fall-down, tear-filled, miserable drunk; it was a very happy drunk. But by the end of the day, I was drunk. As I mentioned at the end of the last post, the accepted maximum for beers in a tasting is twelve. My total for the day (as best I can recall) was something like twenty (ed. note: TWENTY). Admittedly, in the middle, my taste buds were reduced to mush and I briefly shifted to enjoying beers that I had already had at some point. The beers are so important to their brewers, and it would be disrespectful to taste them for the first time with anything less than a crisp palate. So at this point (right after the Amarillo Anonymous that closed the last post), I chilled out, had a hot dog, and recuperated in the food court. I drank lots of water and tried to get my focus back for the second half of the day.
Nov 16, 2009
Live at the International Great Beer Expo (Part 1 of 2)
This past Saturday, the International Great Beer Expo took over the Nassau Coliseum on Long Island, NY. I didn't know exactly what to expect from the trip or the event. In truth, this was my first large-scale beer event. Would I be out of my depth? Would this be an all-star gathering of the beer cognoscenti, talking hop-backs and obscure European beers I could only dream of ever getting my hands on? Um . . . no.
It would be hard to talk about the event without at least briefly discussing Long Island. I've always been fascinated by LI, so on my journey I decided to make a bit of a photo-journal of their particular culture.
Transportation
Style & Culture
Crime
Okay so maybe it isn't that bad, but Long Island is a strange and terrifying place. Haven for the rich? Ground zero for mooks? Depends on where you are. Now in NYC I can tell a 72nd St. Gray's Papaya from a 34th St. one, but on Strawng Island, I don't know whether I'm going to Syosset or Nipseydocket. Such was my strife on Saturday, en route to the Expo. Eventually I found my way, and was shown very quickly the tone of the event. When the first guy walked in with a Miller High Life shirt, I got nervous. When he was trailed by a guy wearing a shirt that said, "Swallow . . . or it's going in your eye," I was terrified. I am not making that shirt up.
I walked in and was immediately struck still: Sam Adams, Blue Moon, and Dos XX. The first three booths I saw. "Oh my god," I thought. "I just paid $48 for Corporate Beer Fest '09." I paused, took a deep breath, and literally broke into a jog, desperately hunting down a craft brewery. Fortunately, the proximity to the door of these larger breweries was BECAUSE they were the larger breweries, and tucked behind them was a rich and wonderful array of well-known craft brewers, homebrewing clubs, and everything in between. From the garage to multi-national, multi-label umbrella companies, everything was there. Scantily clad women faux-cheerily handed out corporate swill for rent money while daydreaming about their other goals. Genuinely happy (and thus far more beautiful) everymen and everywomen from craft breweries extrapolated on their labors of love, already living their dreams. It was the best and worst of beer. And since I had no intention of wasting my tolerance on a Radeberger that I could get anywhere, I was free to dive in to the exotic flavors and artistry American craft beer. Both were on full display, so with blinders turned up and destinations circled, I went about my joyous work . . .
It would be hard to talk about the event without at least briefly discussing Long Island. I've always been fascinated by LI, so on my journey I decided to make a bit of a photo-journal of their particular culture.
Style & Culture
Crime
Okay so maybe it isn't that bad, but Long Island is a strange and terrifying place. Haven for the rich? Ground zero for mooks? Depends on where you are. Now in NYC I can tell a 72nd St. Gray's Papaya from a 34th St. one, but on Strawng Island, I don't know whether I'm going to Syosset or Nipseydocket. Such was my strife on Saturday, en route to the Expo. Eventually I found my way, and was shown very quickly the tone of the event. When the first guy walked in with a Miller High Life shirt, I got nervous. When he was trailed by a guy wearing a shirt that said, "Swallow . . . or it's going in your eye," I was terrified. I am not making that shirt up.
I walked in and was immediately struck still: Sam Adams, Blue Moon, and Dos XX. The first three booths I saw. "Oh my god," I thought. "I just paid $48 for Corporate Beer Fest '09." I paused, took a deep breath, and literally broke into a jog, desperately hunting down a craft brewery. Fortunately, the proximity to the door of these larger breweries was BECAUSE they were the larger breweries, and tucked behind them was a rich and wonderful array of well-known craft brewers, homebrewing clubs, and everything in between. From the garage to multi-national, multi-label umbrella companies, everything was there. Scantily clad women faux-cheerily handed out corporate swill for rent money while daydreaming about their other goals. Genuinely happy (and thus far more beautiful) everymen and everywomen from craft breweries extrapolated on their labors of love, already living their dreams. It was the best and worst of beer. And since I had no intention of wasting my tolerance on a Radeberger that I could get anywhere, I was free to dive in to the exotic flavors and artistry American craft beer. Both were on full display, so with blinders turned up and destinations circled, I went about my joyous work . . .
Nov 12, 2009
Alehouse Heroes: Shane Welch, President and Brewmaster of Sixpoint
You know, this gig just gets better and better. For this week's Alehouse Heroes, we have Shane Welch, the President, Brewmaster, and local genius behind Sixpoint. Sixpoint brews out of Brooklyn, so of course they have my home-team support, but additionally they happen to be absolutely phenomenal. Their Brownstone is roasty with chocolate tones, the Righteous Rye conjures up a delicious pastrami sandwich, their Deisel Stout is a toffee-lover's dream, and on and on. My first experience with Sixpoint was at my last restaurant. We were thinking of adding a Sixpoint to our tapline, and they sent a rep over to give us a tasting. We were blown away and had a seriously rough time choosing only one. (Editor's note: we picked Righteous Rye. Seriously. It's incredible.) What was most impressive was how knowledgeable their rep was, and that he brought samples of the ingredients so that we could smell the hops, taste the rye, and see the quality that underlies each beer. If you go to the Sixpoint website, this is how they roll. They have in-depth coverage of their brewing process and ingredients there too. It is this transparency, pride in craft, and superior bold flavors that make them a local favorite. Hopefully, the rest of the country will enjoy their brews soon. As for this article, Mr. Welch is incredibly thoughtful and kind with the newbie blogger. Over the course of this fantastic interview, we talk about his company's penchant for transparency, brewing success, and why a 110 year old Bass can teach us about the future of craft.
Nov 11, 2009
Incoming!!!!
Whaddup y'all? The real post for today is below this, but I just wanted to keep everyone tuned in because tomorrow will have an interview with the president and brewmaster (!) of beloved BK brewery Sixpoint and it is fantastic. Also, I have procured tix to the Great International Beer Expo this Saturday (drinking starts at something like 12:30 PM), and I will have pictures, reviews, and whatever else I encounter posted next week. Thanks!
Me and Friends and Food and Beer
With my new job schedule, hanging out with friends has become difficult. This is what happens when you only have Monday and Tuesday nights free. Thankfully, my girlfriend and I hooked up a night out with a couple friends who live in our area (Astoria bitches), and we decided to go to one of the more "popular" locations in our neighborhood. Of course, I'm in NYC, so "popular" generally means "overrun with hipsters and generally unlikable people". In this case, it wasn't so bad. We rolled to the Bohemian Hall, or "the beer garden" as it is known. It's NYC's only real, legitimate German beer garden, and while that is great for them, that means that when summer pops up, the place is swarmed with drunken hipsters at all hours. But it's cold now, so when we peaked our adorable little faces in at 7 PM, the place was stark-nasty empty.
I won't get into a full-on restaurant review, but suffice it to say the waitress was awful. She was pregnant too, which makes me think her child will also be a horrible waitress. The night was a blast and it really encompassed why I love beer: had we been drinking, say, wine with our meals, we wouldn't have started "speaking loudly" about private details of our respective relationships when people finally started trickling in. And then what would the night have been? 2 hours of discussing grape varietals and . . . I don't know . . . Chaupin? We would have beenclassy boring and educated pretentious.
Despite the service and its possible effects on future progeny, once the food and beer started coming in, I got to really wallow in some fantastic pairings, totally going off my gut as far as the lineup was concerned. Some succeeded, some didn't, but each offered insights into the flavorful nooks and crannies of each item. And that's what experimenting with beer pairing is all about. You aren't always going to hit a home run, but every once in a while you find something so great, it is almost easier to write about feelings than taste. Don't be afraid to pair beer, and in fact, pairing beer is going to be a focus of this blog henceforth. That's right. Henceforth.
I started with a Sixpoint Brownstone before the food came. I love this beer and was so happy to find it. Despite being brewed in the BK, you don't see it as often as you would think around here. Brownstone is a brown ale, medium in color but heavy on roastiness. It has a strong dark malt roast up front and the hoppiness is strong for a brown ale, though it balances well. It finishes rich and robust with some rye. Pure genius really. The finish is the absolute perfect midpoint between the roast and the hops which unifies them brilliantly. It doesn't have a ton of notes, but what it lacks in levels, it makes up for in precision and power. Sixpoint isn't half-steppin', and their beers are uniformly bold in flavor.
Once food showed up, the onion-y, marinated knockwurst took a hint of the bitterness out of the Brownstone, while a rich, spiced beef stroganoff brought up some chocolate notes. On the downside (even though I knew it would happen), the Brownstone totally decimated a poor potato pierogie.
With the Brownstone killed, we cleansed our palates and moved on to the always reliable Franziskaner Weisse. This beer is German as shit, and so started opening up really exciting flavors. Sans food, Franziskaner packs serious spiciness with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg (good call Caity and Adriana), while I've always gotten brisk mustard tones. The wheat is ever-present without being overwhelming, and it brings a hearty body that is still somehow a bit refreshing. It is a great wheat beer for the season (as opposed to lighter summer wheats) and a cold night filled with German food made Franziskaner a sure-fire hit.
The mustard tones gave me a hunch that Franziskaner would kill with the knockwurst, and so it did. It made a hot dog with onions and mustard, bun included. It brought up memories of fall baseball when I was a kid, and hopes of ballparks future. When the beer followed a few bites of pierogie, a rich breadiness emerged, though some of the beer's spice was dulled. The beer matched up well with red cabbage and a drop of sour cream, as well as some stray onions here and there. It's underlying sweetness countered those well, letting the soft spice stand out.
The beef stroganoff still needed a suitable partner. A black lager from the Czech Republic, Krusovice Dark is heavily malty, almost syrupy sweet. It has coffee aromas but little coffee flavor. Chocolate and caramel are right there, and the mouthfeel borders on downright sticky. This beer is no good. But it managed to be a success because of the beef stroganoff. Paired with this (wonderful) beef, a sip of Krusovice turned into what essentially tasted like slightly thick root beer. The sweetness of the beer was refined after a few bites of beef and gravy, and the unpleasant hints of charcoal were rendered non-existent. When the light bulb went off that we had stumbled on a way to make this beer palatable, everyone was convinced of the power a decent pairing can have.
What is so great is that beer can make even one-dimesional food better. Thankfully, we didn't have to deal with that. We did have to deal with the opposite however: lousy beer. As you read, a good pairing can even drag the lousiest Czech swill out of the gutter and "My Fair Lady" it into something respectable. That's the magic of a solid beer pairing: bad becomes good, good becomes great, and great becomes a flood of flavors, memories, and feelings. We laughed, we ate, we drank, we got closer.
That > wine.
I won't get into a full-on restaurant review, but suffice it to say the waitress was awful. She was pregnant too, which makes me think her child will also be a horrible waitress. The night was a blast and it really encompassed why I love beer: had we been drinking, say, wine with our meals, we wouldn't have started "speaking loudly" about private details of our respective relationships when people finally started trickling in. And then what would the night have been? 2 hours of discussing grape varietals and . . . I don't know . . . Chaupin? We would have been
Despite the service and its possible effects on future progeny, once the food and beer started coming in, I got to really wallow in some fantastic pairings, totally going off my gut as far as the lineup was concerned. Some succeeded, some didn't, but each offered insights into the flavorful nooks and crannies of each item. And that's what experimenting with beer pairing is all about. You aren't always going to hit a home run, but every once in a while you find something so great, it is almost easier to write about feelings than taste. Don't be afraid to pair beer, and in fact, pairing beer is going to be a focus of this blog henceforth. That's right. Henceforth.
I started with a Sixpoint Brownstone before the food came. I love this beer and was so happy to find it. Despite being brewed in the BK, you don't see it as often as you would think around here. Brownstone is a brown ale, medium in color but heavy on roastiness. It has a strong dark malt roast up front and the hoppiness is strong for a brown ale, though it balances well. It finishes rich and robust with some rye. Pure genius really. The finish is the absolute perfect midpoint between the roast and the hops which unifies them brilliantly. It doesn't have a ton of notes, but what it lacks in levels, it makes up for in precision and power. Sixpoint isn't half-steppin', and their beers are uniformly bold in flavor.
Once food showed up, the onion-y, marinated knockwurst took a hint of the bitterness out of the Brownstone, while a rich, spiced beef stroganoff brought up some chocolate notes. On the downside (even though I knew it would happen), the Brownstone totally decimated a poor potato pierogie.
With the Brownstone killed, we cleansed our palates and moved on to the always reliable Franziskaner Weisse. This beer is German as shit, and so started opening up really exciting flavors. Sans food, Franziskaner packs serious spiciness with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg (good call Caity and Adriana), while I've always gotten brisk mustard tones. The wheat is ever-present without being overwhelming, and it brings a hearty body that is still somehow a bit refreshing. It is a great wheat beer for the season (as opposed to lighter summer wheats) and a cold night filled with German food made Franziskaner a sure-fire hit.
The mustard tones gave me a hunch that Franziskaner would kill with the knockwurst, and so it did. It made a hot dog with onions and mustard, bun included. It brought up memories of fall baseball when I was a kid, and hopes of ballparks future. When the beer followed a few bites of pierogie, a rich breadiness emerged, though some of the beer's spice was dulled. The beer matched up well with red cabbage and a drop of sour cream, as well as some stray onions here and there. It's underlying sweetness countered those well, letting the soft spice stand out.
The beef stroganoff still needed a suitable partner. A black lager from the Czech Republic, Krusovice Dark is heavily malty, almost syrupy sweet. It has coffee aromas but little coffee flavor. Chocolate and caramel are right there, and the mouthfeel borders on downright sticky. This beer is no good. But it managed to be a success because of the beef stroganoff. Paired with this (wonderful) beef, a sip of Krusovice turned into what essentially tasted like slightly thick root beer. The sweetness of the beer was refined after a few bites of beef and gravy, and the unpleasant hints of charcoal were rendered non-existent. When the light bulb went off that we had stumbled on a way to make this beer palatable, everyone was convinced of the power a decent pairing can have.
What is so great is that beer can make even one-dimesional food better. Thankfully, we didn't have to deal with that. We did have to deal with the opposite however: lousy beer. As you read, a good pairing can even drag the lousiest Czech swill out of the gutter and "My Fair Lady" it into something respectable. That's the magic of a solid beer pairing: bad becomes good, good becomes great, and great becomes a flood of flavors, memories, and feelings. We laughed, we ate, we drank, we got closer.
That > wine.
Nov 10, 2009
Peak Organic: This Is What's Known as a "Microcosm"
Oh Fox News. How can I best enumerate the ways in which you manipulate the public? That doesn't even count Fox Business, the network that employs both Don Imus and JBL. But every once in a while, I suppose they can be good for something. Recently, Fox Small Business published a mildly well-written article about Peak Organic Beer. They are a company I am pretty fascinated with for a couple of reasons. Though I wouldn't rank their beers among my favorites, I would count myself a fan of their company. They embody a lot of what makes craft beer today great, from mold-breaking to entrepreneurship to a focus on quality above massive sales figures.
Let's be very clear: the current craft beer market is a reaction, by both brewer and drinker, to the low-quality, high-volume corporate beer juggernaut. More importantly, craft brewers and consumers have a chicken-and-the-egg relationship: the first wave of craft brewers were themselves disgruntled beer lovers. They knew that if they weren't satisfied by the market, other people must not be either. Granted, they have the smarts and business sense to launch a brewery, market it, and lead it to success, but they come from the same place as everyone who goes out searching for a glass or bottle of something new each time they peruse their local beer selection. So whether the market exists because of demand, or whether the demand exists because of the market is both unanswerable and irrelevant. They want a diverse marketplace, they encourage success across all breweries as opposed to viewing it as a competition, and demand the same quality from the beers they make as they would of a beer they drank with dinner.
This is quite the anomaly. Most large companies have nothing like this going on. They want to dominate the market and drive ingredient and product quality down as far as is acceptable to consumers. If customers wouldn't be outraged by eating zebra tumors and they drove product consistency up, you can bet they will find their way into your Kraft Mac & Cheese. Moreover, they want to have all the zebra tumors to themselves so that if your kids are eating zebra tumors, you will know they have been proudly grown, harvested, and served to you by Phillip Morris.
Now, there are no craft breweries the size of Phillip Morris. But the analogy stands. One thing that is so heartening about drinking craft beers (particularly for someone with the leftist leaning I have) is that, aside from the above corporate goodness, the ingredients are both high quality and traceable, labor complaints are virtually non-existent, and people seem to be embodying a sort of responsible capitalism where everyone gets paid without exploitation at any level on the supply chain. Are the people harvesting hops in mansions? No, but they aren't slaves either. Often ingredients are organic and/or local, making the purchase of some of this beer downright miraculous for local economies and ecosystems. Tell some spot in Iowa that they could grow profitable crops while employing responsible labor and sustaining the land, and I bet Iowa would be covered in hops the next month. Unfortunately, Iowa (or Washington state or anywhere really) doesn't need to be covered in hops because there isn't nearly as much demand for hops or barley as there is for corn, let's say. The big companies want corporate farms and the small companies just don't need that much.
On a purely hedonistic level, Peak's beers are not spectacular. In fact, most organic beers aren't. Samuel Smith does some pretty great stuff and Wolaver's is good sometimes, but other than that, is there a truly awesome organic beer? If there is, I've never seen, heard, or read about it. But Peak is good and the step of organic beers jumping up to "good" is a huge one. Why organic beers are rarely if ever spectacular is still a mystery to me. I mean, eat a salad, then eat an organic salad, and you know which is better. (If anyone has ideas, I welcome the new info.) But they are progressing, and Peak's success shows that if a good organic beer can thrive, a great organic beer could make the craft beer market explode.
A good representation of the quality of beer and slow food in today's market . . .
. . . versus thirty years ago.
What is so funny to me about all of this is that I am a total organic junkie. I eat organic whenever possible. Beer is the only product where, if I see it is organic, I will probably not buy it. If I'm going to drop $11 on a six pack, it better destroy. These beers rarely do that, and so if it comes to "all-natural and fantastic" or "organic and okay", I don't play; the beer needs to deliver. The major craft brewers are responsible and demanding enough with their ingredients that I don't NEED organic beer. I buy organic spinach because who knows where that other spinach comes from or what they doused it with. But when my bottle says "Washington state hops and two-row barley from such and such", I consider that pretty transparent. Further research only turns up decent labor practices from all of these companies.
Here is where Peak comes in. Their entire story, from beginning to current success, seems to mirror the craft brewing industry in America right now. They started ten years ago, before there was a sizable market for either organic food OR craft beer. Financially, each of those markets was in its infancy. Craft beer itself started as a purely niche market: a few rebellious minds making beer that they wanted to drink, and assuming other people would come along for the ride. So both Peak and the industry which holds it sprang up in a climate that seemed to offer little hope for success and almost no blueprint thereof.
One of Peak's other claims to fame is its packaging (a focus of the article), which depicts thoughts and pictures sent in by fans. The pictures aren't of hot women or keg stands, but of dudes walking through farmland or a SUN SETTING for god's sake. This isn't exactly attention-grabbing at first glance, but it IS phenomenal branding. Next to the Tecate girls or Bud Ultra Dry Hot Chick on Draught concoctions, a simple sunset can stick out and be downright refreshing. Peak presents itself as an alternative, and the packaging lets you know their priorities right off the bat. Craft beer as a whole seems to bring this to the table: rudimentary graphic design, minimal labeling (see Dogfish Head, for serious), outright profanity. Even when a craft beer label is going for some sort of manly sight-gag, it still offers the populist bent that penetrates the craft beer market. Read a brewery's mission statement, and this will only become more clear. And what could be more populist than encouraging people to record their thoughts and surroundings, then using them on the front of a sixer?
Financially, this is a no-brainer. While the beer market as a whole has fallen off around the world, the Brewer's Association reports that craft beer sales grew 5.9% by volume and 10% in dollars in 2008. Organic beer as a whole is up 21% and according to Peak, their sales are up (wait for it . . . ) 72 effing percent this year. (Editor's note: that is ridiculous.) Keep in mind, this is for a beer that is only decent relative to the marketplace. This shows incredible demand for a product that no one necessarily thought would or could succeed.
Craft beer's arrival in the mainstream has been aided by the fact that serious foodies (chefs, critics, me) have started to take it seriously. Craft beer has found a natural friend (sigh for the pun) in local and organic food. The slow food movement and craft beer not only go well together in ethos, but they go well together on table and on tongue. Peak doesn't just parallel this; Peak is this. An organic craft beer? That has "heart-warming underdog story" written all over it, as does this blog now.
In creating success as an industry, craft brewers have broken the corportate mold. You see "rival" brewers not only fraternizing but openly gushing about each other's beer. Their production methods are responsible. They assume the customer is intelligent. They focus on quality waaaayyyy over quantity (try to find certain seasonal craft beers sometime and you will see what I mean). All of these, anathema to most large corporations, not only work, they are almost entirely responsible for the industry's success. All of this is embodied in Peak, and the fact that we can sit back and watch so many companies (underdogs at the very core of their business) succeed is pretty encouraging. Who would have thought that we would be talking about such small companies with such importance or that, in America, the land of instant gratification and dubious labor standards, we would be talking about the cultural relevance of an organic beer made from the farms of Maine? Craft beer, and the many smaller, principled brands that make it up. inching into the mainstream has made it so. It just goes to show you: sometimes a little craft goes a long way.
Let's be very clear: the current craft beer market is a reaction, by both brewer and drinker, to the low-quality, high-volume corporate beer juggernaut. More importantly, craft brewers and consumers have a chicken-and-the-egg relationship: the first wave of craft brewers were themselves disgruntled beer lovers. They knew that if they weren't satisfied by the market, other people must not be either. Granted, they have the smarts and business sense to launch a brewery, market it, and lead it to success, but they come from the same place as everyone who goes out searching for a glass or bottle of something new each time they peruse their local beer selection. So whether the market exists because of demand, or whether the demand exists because of the market is both unanswerable and irrelevant. They want a diverse marketplace, they encourage success across all breweries as opposed to viewing it as a competition, and demand the same quality from the beers they make as they would of a beer they drank with dinner.
This is quite the anomaly. Most large companies have nothing like this going on. They want to dominate the market and drive ingredient and product quality down as far as is acceptable to consumers. If customers wouldn't be outraged by eating zebra tumors and they drove product consistency up, you can bet they will find their way into your Kraft Mac & Cheese. Moreover, they want to have all the zebra tumors to themselves so that if your kids are eating zebra tumors, you will know they have been proudly grown, harvested, and served to you by Phillip Morris.
Now, there are no craft breweries the size of Phillip Morris. But the analogy stands. One thing that is so heartening about drinking craft beers (particularly for someone with the leftist leaning I have) is that, aside from the above corporate goodness, the ingredients are both high quality and traceable, labor complaints are virtually non-existent, and people seem to be embodying a sort of responsible capitalism where everyone gets paid without exploitation at any level on the supply chain. Are the people harvesting hops in mansions? No, but they aren't slaves either. Often ingredients are organic and/or local, making the purchase of some of this beer downright miraculous for local economies and ecosystems. Tell some spot in Iowa that they could grow profitable crops while employing responsible labor and sustaining the land, and I bet Iowa would be covered in hops the next month. Unfortunately, Iowa (or Washington state or anywhere really) doesn't need to be covered in hops because there isn't nearly as much demand for hops or barley as there is for corn, let's say. The big companies want corporate farms and the small companies just don't need that much.
On a purely hedonistic level, Peak's beers are not spectacular. In fact, most organic beers aren't. Samuel Smith does some pretty great stuff and Wolaver's is good sometimes, but other than that, is there a truly awesome organic beer? If there is, I've never seen, heard, or read about it. But Peak is good and the step of organic beers jumping up to "good" is a huge one. Why organic beers are rarely if ever spectacular is still a mystery to me. I mean, eat a salad, then eat an organic salad, and you know which is better. (If anyone has ideas, I welcome the new info.) But they are progressing, and Peak's success shows that if a good organic beer can thrive, a great organic beer could make the craft beer market explode.
What is so funny to me about all of this is that I am a total organic junkie. I eat organic whenever possible. Beer is the only product where, if I see it is organic, I will probably not buy it. If I'm going to drop $11 on a six pack, it better destroy. These beers rarely do that, and so if it comes to "all-natural and fantastic" or "organic and okay", I don't play; the beer needs to deliver. The major craft brewers are responsible and demanding enough with their ingredients that I don't NEED organic beer. I buy organic spinach because who knows where that other spinach comes from or what they doused it with. But when my bottle says "Washington state hops and two-row barley from such and such", I consider that pretty transparent. Further research only turns up decent labor practices from all of these companies.
Here is where Peak comes in. Their entire story, from beginning to current success, seems to mirror the craft brewing industry in America right now. They started ten years ago, before there was a sizable market for either organic food OR craft beer. Financially, each of those markets was in its infancy. Craft beer itself started as a purely niche market: a few rebellious minds making beer that they wanted to drink, and assuming other people would come along for the ride. So both Peak and the industry which holds it sprang up in a climate that seemed to offer little hope for success and almost no blueprint thereof.
One of Peak's other claims to fame is its packaging (a focus of the article), which depicts thoughts and pictures sent in by fans. The pictures aren't of hot women or keg stands, but of dudes walking through farmland or a SUN SETTING for god's sake. This isn't exactly attention-grabbing at first glance, but it IS phenomenal branding. Next to the Tecate girls or Bud Ultra Dry Hot Chick on Draught concoctions, a simple sunset can stick out and be downright refreshing. Peak presents itself as an alternative, and the packaging lets you know their priorities right off the bat. Craft beer as a whole seems to bring this to the table: rudimentary graphic design, minimal labeling (see Dogfish Head, for serious), outright profanity. Even when a craft beer label is going for some sort of manly sight-gag, it still offers the populist bent that penetrates the craft beer market. Read a brewery's mission statement, and this will only become more clear. And what could be more populist than encouraging people to record their thoughts and surroundings, then using them on the front of a sixer?
Financially, this is a no-brainer. While the beer market as a whole has fallen off around the world, the Brewer's Association reports that craft beer sales grew 5.9% by volume and 10% in dollars in 2008. Organic beer as a whole is up 21% and according to Peak, their sales are up (wait for it . . . ) 72 effing percent this year. (Editor's note: that is ridiculous.) Keep in mind, this is for a beer that is only decent relative to the marketplace. This shows incredible demand for a product that no one necessarily thought would or could succeed.
Craft beer's arrival in the mainstream has been aided by the fact that serious foodies (chefs, critics, me) have started to take it seriously. Craft beer has found a natural friend (sigh for the pun) in local and organic food. The slow food movement and craft beer not only go well together in ethos, but they go well together on table and on tongue. Peak doesn't just parallel this; Peak is this. An organic craft beer? That has "heart-warming underdog story" written all over it, as does this blog now.
In creating success as an industry, craft brewers have broken the corportate mold. You see "rival" brewers not only fraternizing but openly gushing about each other's beer. Their production methods are responsible. They assume the customer is intelligent. They focus on quality waaaayyyy over quantity (try to find certain seasonal craft beers sometime and you will see what I mean). All of these, anathema to most large corporations, not only work, they are almost entirely responsible for the industry's success. All of this is embodied in Peak, and the fact that we can sit back and watch so many companies (underdogs at the very core of their business) succeed is pretty encouraging. Who would have thought that we would be talking about such small companies with such importance or that, in America, the land of instant gratification and dubious labor standards, we would be talking about the cultural relevance of an organic beer made from the farms of Maine? Craft beer, and the many smaller, principled brands that make it up. inching into the mainstream has made it so. It just goes to show you: sometimes a little craft goes a long way.
Nov 6, 2009
1,2 . . . Many: Bad Beer Makes You Do Bad Things
Last Friday, I presented the first "1, 2 . . . Many", a feature devoted to sending you into the weekend absolutely petrified to have even a sip of Zima. No, no. The real goal is to show the downside of drinking too much so that the next time you walk into a bar, you might slow down, take a breath, and forego the 14 Budweisers in favor of something flavorful and possibly even . . . dare we say it? Complex. Maybe, just maybe, you'll even pair a beer with your meal. But all of this is impossible if the goal is to get so toasted that you don't even plan on keeping the beer down. On second thought, if you are planning on vomiting, don't waste something nice. Especially not a seasonal. I mean, they only brew so much.
Anyway, with that in mind, I present to you some news stories from around the world (and by that I mean the neighboring states of Pennsylvania and Ohio) that should bring this into a sharp and vivid reality. Deal with it.
This wouldn't happen if we just outlawed PBR already: According to The Morning Call, one Mr. Barrington Wordsworth III was charged in the theft of some rather rare champagne as it was being delivered to a specialty grocer in Pennsylvania . . . . No I'm just kidding. John Higginbotham stole his neighbor's fucking PBR. But the Pennsylvania part was true. Apparently, this debonair chap got home from finishing school with quite a thirst. So he went to his neighbor and asked for a beer, and was indeed given a PBR. Then he came back and was greeted with (this time) multiple PBRs. Well he still was not quenched and went over again. This time, his neighbor wasn't home, so dude BROKE IN and took seven of our man's PBR. Apparently, they found six cans of PBR is Higginbotham's garage, which makes me think he might be trying to smuggle one to Mexico.
There is no lead-in that does this justice: What is it about beer that makes crime surrounding it so damn classy? In Ohio on Halloween, a man was pulled over for driving the wrong way sans headlights down a one-way street. Hmm, safe. They stop the fellow, a James Miller, and find beer in the front seat, back seat and trunk. Then they have him step out of the car to take the Breathalyzer test and find that he is costumed for Halloween. As a Breathalyzer.
I would like to thank the AP for posting this picture in as many outlets as they could possibly find. Seriously, the day after Halloween, if you googled "Wiggles lyrics", this picture would have come up. I know. I tried. I would also like to point out that on his costume, it says "Blow here" right where one might blow to take such a test, which happens to be around his penis. Nice one man. Let's high five about it. What is most amazing is that he dressed up as the very vehicle of his destruction. Maybe he was making a comment about the restrictive nature of our drinking laws actually encouraging underage and abusive drinking. Yeah, or maybe he just won a bet with his GED class.
Have a good weekend everybody. For those of you who don't know, I update at least once almost every weekday. Next week I have some pretty incredible stuff, and some winter seasonal reviews will be going up very soon. This has been a joy to write so far and I'm just getting started. Thanks so much.
Anyway, with that in mind, I present to you some news stories from around the world (and by that I mean the neighboring states of Pennsylvania and Ohio) that should bring this into a sharp and vivid reality. Deal with it.
This wouldn't happen if we just outlawed PBR already: According to The Morning Call, one Mr. Barrington Wordsworth III was charged in the theft of some rather rare champagne as it was being delivered to a specialty grocer in Pennsylvania . . . . No I'm just kidding. John Higginbotham stole his neighbor's fucking PBR. But the Pennsylvania part was true. Apparently, this debonair chap got home from finishing school with quite a thirst. So he went to his neighbor and asked for a beer, and was indeed given a PBR. Then he came back and was greeted with (this time) multiple PBRs. Well he still was not quenched and went over again. This time, his neighbor wasn't home, so dude BROKE IN and took seven of our man's PBR. Apparently, they found six cans of PBR is Higginbotham's garage, which makes me think he might be trying to smuggle one to Mexico.
There is no lead-in that does this justice: What is it about beer that makes crime surrounding it so damn classy? In Ohio on Halloween, a man was pulled over for driving the wrong way sans headlights down a one-way street. Hmm, safe. They stop the fellow, a James Miller, and find beer in the front seat, back seat and trunk. Then they have him step out of the car to take the Breathalyzer test and find that he is costumed for Halloween. As a Breathalyzer.
Have a good weekend everybody. For those of you who don't know, I update at least once almost every weekday. Next week I have some pretty incredible stuff, and some winter seasonal reviews will be going up very soon. This has been a joy to write so far and I'm just getting started. Thanks so much.
Nov 5, 2009
Alehouse Heroes: Hopleaf - Chicago, IL
Last Thursday I debuted Alehouse Heroes, a recurring feature in which I am lucky enough to interview various beer luminaries from around the country. Last week was Charles Whedbee from the Uber Tavern in Seattle. This week I am honored to bring you Mr. Michael Roper from Chicago's esteemed Hopleaf. They are rocking over twenty taps and countless bottles, as well as gushing - let me repeat - gushing reviews from their regulars on the intahnets. One guy even writes that the place is a shithole solely to dissuade hipsters from ruining it. To this man I say, "Keep up the good fight". Hopefully I won't contribute to any hipster-related crushing of the Hopleaf spirit. God knows they ruined the East Village. Anywho, Mr. Roper was gracious enough not only to be interviewed but to bring the hardcore answers. We get into beer's relation with slow food, what makes a successful craft bar, and why Chicago is a step above when you want a local hangout. Over the course of these topics, Mr. Roper answers thoughtfully and genuinely. His passion, eloquence, and joy over his job is positively humbling. He is also emblematic in a way of the current climate in craft beer: he doesn't see the explosion as some sort of competition. He seems ecstatic about the many beer bars springing up around him and wants everyone to succeed. I knew this was true for many brewers, but to see it run all the way into the tavern . . . well let's just say it is easy to love. Anyone who wants to know why craft beer is exploding, it is because of people like Michael Roper. To Mr. Roper, thanks so much. To everyone else I interview, you're on notice: the bar has been set. Don't bring no junk to my blog. We're for serious.
Nov 4, 2009
Pumpkin Ale: West Coast Redemption
If you recall, last Thursday I posted a double review praising the mighty Dogfish Head Midas Touch and . . . um . . . well let us not discuss the rest. I'm going to go ahead and do that one more time. While last week had no particular theme other than "Beers Caity and I Drank That One Day", this week, I'm going to big up Halloween and, perhaps more importantly, big up the West Coast, who might have caught a stray shot lost week when really, Lagunitas Little Sumpin' Extra (just the beer, not the brewery) was the target. Let me just get this out of the way now: the lefter coast is THE brewing capitol of the world right now. The northeast has tradition on their side, but the West Coast has their own incredible native hops and some of the most rebellious, creative minds in beer on their side. They crush it. That's that. So, I decided to contrast two pumpkin ales I've been drinking lately, and though they are going to be tough to come by post-October, it is key to know your pumpkin ales. The variations are mostly subtle in pumpkin ales, but they really make or break the beer.
In the last review I mentioned this beer: Elysian Night Owl Pumpkin Ale. Read it, learn it, know it. Elysian is based in Seattle, and though I've only had a few of their beers, I think it is safe to say they are fantastic. We serve this beer seasonally at work and the employees, customers, and I all go absolutely apeshit for it. I always describe this beer to customers as "exactly like a pumpkin pie" so it was quite heartening when I went to the official page yesterday and saw the brewery describe it as "like pumpkin pie, with a rich smoothness". Honestly, it tastes just like a fantastic pumpkin pie. The look is a deep copper-orange. A hint of that orange makes it into the head, which generally comes up pretty minimally. Once in a while our taps would pour it with a slightly deeper head, but even then it was pretty flimsy in density. Their website also says they are rocking a 1.060 gravity, which is pretty hearty and it makes sense: the mouthfeel is rich and coats every corner. Of course, pumpkin prevails taste-wise, but what really makes the beer great is the sweet maltiness, bolstered by robust notes of clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg. The spices are absolutely spot-on. The very slight hop bitterness at the front of the tongue make the whole sweet palate explode in a perfect seasonal frenzy. Possibly the best part? It packs 6.1% ABV, but you most certainly wouldn't know it. This is a rich, wonderful beer which manages to be malty-sweet while also bringing a spiced-up savoriness to the table. Despite being an autumn ale, I found it more complex and enjoyable at around 45 degrees than 50-55. It might sound simple, but a handful of walnuts goes brilliantly with this beer. Want to get a little more complicated? Pair it with some sweet barbecue for dinner. Needless to say it makes a fantastic desert beer by itself or paired with a slice of cheesecake or pecan pie. Steer clear of red meat in your pairing for sure. I arrogantly tried it with a smoky, grilled burger and it was a thorough fail on my part.
On the other hand, we have Southampton's Pumpkin Ale. Southampton Publick House in upstate NY is pretty legendary. They make good beers most of the time, though in my opinion they are rarely exceptional. However, they had the upperhand going in: personally, I'm a SUCKER for the old-fashioned Northeastern autumn and winter. As soon as October rolls up, all I want to do is drink warm cider and wear Cosby sweaters. Shouldn't Southampton be able to rock this and bring the dream pumpkin ale? If you were to put a pint of this next to a pint of the Elysian, you could see the difference in flavor. My pint was marvelously clear, but also sadly light and washed-out in color. The scent is lovely, featuring the usual pumpkin ale suspects, but also presenting a nice maple syrup tone. The head poured richly, much moreso than the Elysian, though the depth and darkness in Elysian is worth the loss of head. The nice head on Southampton does take out a notch of the bitterness, which it has too much of as the head fades out. The spices are overwhelmed by an odd tang and bitterness which I can't quite put my finger on. This is alleviated somewhat by the subtle vanilla notes at the end of the sip. The aftertaste is straight pumpkin however, and this lack of dimension makes it ultimately easy to walk away from after the first pint.
I heart pumpkin ales and it is going to be sad to see them go once again. If you can still find any, I highly advocate grabbing some, though in my experience some people just flat-out dislike them. If your local place has any left over, Weyerbacher makes a fantastic pumpkin ale and the psychos at Southern Tier have their Pumking which pushes the ABV to a whopping 7.9%. In small doses, it is pretty great. Stocking up on some of these for Thanksgiving is certainly not a bad idea, so if you can , snatch them up and age them for a month. Otherwise, do like me and bide your time until next year, when I will await the Great Pumpkin's return. Then I will crack him open and use his delicious innards for beer. Cheers!
I heart pumpkin ales and it is going to be sad to see them go once again. If you can still find any, I highly advocate grabbing some, though in my experience some people just flat-out dislike them. If your local place has any left over, Weyerbacher makes a fantastic pumpkin ale and the psychos at Southern Tier have their Pumking which pushes the ABV to a whopping 7.9%. In small doses, it is pretty great. Stocking up on some of these for Thanksgiving is certainly not a bad idea, so if you can , snatch them up and age them for a month. Otherwise, do like me and bide your time until next year, when I will await the Great Pumpkin's return. Then I will crack him open and use his delicious innards for beer. Cheers!
Nov 3, 2009
Breaking News: Old Speckled Hen Sucks
Have you ever been in a bar and thought, "I can't decide whether I want a nice, smooth Guinness or some malt liquor"? Well, Old Speckled Hen makes that question irrelevant. Why not have both? OSH places the creamy head of a Guinness on top of the desperation and bathtub residue of, say, Phatboy(please click this), and they've been doing it that way for 30 years. How have they survived? Apparently, British people drink this. I spent five months in England and I can honestly say I learned nothing about their national psyche that would explain their enjoyment of this. In fact, many people like Old Speckled Hen. Why, I cannot say.
"But Beermaster," you say (don't lie, you call me that). "If it has been gross for 30 years, why is this news?"
Well, that part isn't. What is news is the particular way in which they currently suck. According to Gotham Imbiber, Greene King, the awful, awful people who own OSH are sending FAKE cask hand pumps to bars. These fake pumps actually hook up to regular kegs and make it appear as though you are getting a cask ale, when in fact you are getting regular-ass Old Speckled Hen. This might require some explanation.
My personal experience with cask ales is somewhat limited. Though they fell away for a while with all the brand consolidation and Metal Machine Breweries, the craft beer renaissance is bringing them back. In England, they are quite important and their being in jeopardy led a group of intrepid souls to start the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA), a wonderful and passionate group devoted to the preservation of real cask ales. Cask/real ale is a beer that is fermented, then aged in a wooden cask, relying only on natural carbonation: no added nitrogen, no CO2. Then they are poured with a gravity tap or hand pump, NOT a pressurized gas line. They are rare, labor-intensive, and deliciously complex if you can find them.
"But Beermaster," you say (don't lie, you call me that). "If it has been gross for 30 years, why is this news?"
Well, that part isn't. What is news is the particular way in which they currently suck. According to Gotham Imbiber, Greene King, the awful, awful people who own OSH are sending FAKE cask hand pumps to bars. These fake pumps actually hook up to regular kegs and make it appear as though you are getting a cask ale, when in fact you are getting regular-ass Old Speckled Hen. This might require some explanation.
My personal experience with cask ales is somewhat limited. Though they fell away for a while with all the brand consolidation and Metal Machine Breweries, the craft beer renaissance is bringing them back. In England, they are quite important and their being in jeopardy led a group of intrepid souls to start the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA), a wonderful and passionate group devoted to the preservation of real cask ales. Cask/real ale is a beer that is fermented, then aged in a wooden cask, relying only on natural carbonation: no added nitrogen, no CO2. Then they are poured with a gravity tap or hand pump, NOT a pressurized gas line. They are rare, labor-intensive, and deliciously complex if you can find them.
Above, ingredients being delivered to the Old Speckled Hen Brewery.
The other key part of this is that Greene King has quite the reputation as . . . um, well a bunch of assholes. They like to buy local breweries, then dissolve the brands associated with them. Or, even better, they buy PUBS and shut out local beers, instead selling "guest beers" which is code for "their beers". So, in essence what Greene King is doing is pretending to uphold the very tradition they have helped destroy over the past couple decades. It is pretty sad. So, if you are in a bar and you see this fake hand pump, don't drink it. Don't drink Old Speckled Hen at all in fact. It's terrible. Besides, I bet Tilt Green is half the price.
Nov 2, 2009
Double Bastard Out Today!
My experience with the Double Bastard came at the hands of my good friend Devin. He brought it to me for my birthday. At the same birthday, someone brought me "Il Bastardo" wine. Thanks guys . . . no, no don't sugar-coat it. Anyway, it sat in my fridge for a day or two. Then one afternoon my girlfriend and I both had the day off. We went to our favorite Japanese place (shout to Sakura on Ditmars) and, in the spirit of celebration, had a bit of sake. Being sake-drunk is like being wrapped up in a blanket by Jesus. You catch a dope buzz without all the headaches or dehydration. How is this possible? Only the ninja-angels who brew it can say for sure. I'm sorry. That was racist. I'm sure samurais brew it as well.
Things were going great until we got home, when my 22oz.-er of Double Bastard beckoned me. "Hey Allen," it said. "Having a good day?"
"Yeah absolutely," I replied.
"Well, I know you're feeling adventurous. Why not try me out?"
"Ehhh . . . I don't know. I'm on a sweet sake buzz right now."
"Who are you talking to honey?" my girlfriend called from the other room.
"If you rat me out I'll fucking kill you," the bottle said. Now, this should have tipped me off.
"Uh . . . no one," I said, pulling the bottle out, my shaking hands tentatively dispensing its contents into two glasses.
Twenty minutes later, we were nursing wounds on our heads from falling onto our coffee table. This beer is messed up.
For those of you not hip to the trends, one large facet of American craft brewing right now is a string of ultra-hoppy India Pale Ales (IPAs), double IPA's, Imperial IPA's, and just outright bitter brews. I am not one of those people who loves all these particular joints, but the sheer unbridled viciousness, the brutality of Double Bastard makes it at least worth trying. They seriously do not give an eff whether anyone likes this beer, and I respect that. Stone, if you don't know, is one of the premier craft brewers in America (check them out here). They make absolutely bold, brilliant beers. So (and this is the part that makes this beer so compelling for me) they could make a subtly hoppy, debonair sort of specialty brew. But they didn't. This beer isn't lacking craft nor is it based on any flawed premise; they wanted this beer to taste exactly like it does. Even though it isn't necessarily my cup of tea, it is the type of beer that is in a way emblematic of craft beers today: brash, uncompromising, and equally interested in boundary-pushing as it is with any sort of sensory pleasure. In as much as the exciting and full flavors of craft beer are a reaction to watery McBeer, this beer is a microcosm of the whole prevailing attitude: to move as far away from mass-produced beer in both taste and ingredient purity/quality as possible. It is a beer that exists as an antithesis to mass-marketed, corn-and-rice, easy-to-swallow beers. Is Double Bastard's huge, borderline uncomfortable flavor necessary to achieve this? Probably not. But is it appreciated? Always.
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