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.
At this point, I just kind of milled about. In my travels I managed to find the Sugar Hill table. Sugar Hill contract brews upstate now, but it is originally from HAAAAARLEMMMM, so I love it. It is pretty much a standard lager. It doesn't have a complex flavor profile or deep notes that make it work. It is purely a sentimental favorite for me. I was ecstatic to see them there, and their reps were awesome. Big shout to Sugar Hill for some hospitality and good local beer.
Next up, Dutch twist pretzel in hand, I stumbled onto Grimbergen Double Abbey Ale. This was one of the high points of my life. Let me explain. Many moons ago I traveled to Milwaukee, home of Miller Park, Miller Street, and Miller Genuine Draft Day Care Center. It is also home to two of my closest friends, Mike and his fiancee Katie. They took me to a Belgian restaurant, of which I CAN'T remember the name no matter how hard I try, even though it was the Belgium Cafe or something similarly obvious. It was where I tried the Tripel Karameliet for the first time, and where I first tried Grimbergen.
For the uninitiated to Belgian brews, Belgium is renowned for much of their beer but staked a great deal of their reputation on Trappist Ales. These are ales brewed in monasteries by monks (fo' serious), and have been for decades. Abbey ales are NOT necessarily brewed in these monasteries, but are in the style and tradition of these beers. A double/dubbel or triple/tripel is called as such because they feature higher alcohol contents. When I first had the Grimbergen Abbey Ale, I fell in love with it. I don't remember what I had it paired with, but the beer was an amazing and elegant blend of sweet banana and chocolate flavors that somehow managed to pack the right amount of Belgian toasty bitterness in to balance it out. It was magical and I spent the next year searching for the beer everywhere to no avail. When I found it at this event, I basically lost my shit, and couldn't wait to pair it with my pretzel. The saltiness didn't exactly serve the beer, but it did bring out some of the hops and yeast character that I missed the first time. Now I've tracked down this fantastic beer and I probably won't let it be out of my life for so long again.
By now I had recovered. Good food, good conversation, and about six gallons of water cleansed my palate and brought my focus back. On the way to the event, I shared a cab with one of the owners/brewers of Legacy Brewing. Sigh. I forget his name. But he was a very nice guy and I hope to be in touch with them soon. They brew in Pennsylvania and were sampling two beers this day, the fantastically-named Hoptimus Prime (come on, you wish you thought of that) and their Euphoria Ale. I asked him what I should look for in the Euphoria and when he replied, "a hint of banana," it was go time. It definitely got the award for Most Beautiful Beer, sporting an absolutely gorgeous golden color that was marvelously rich yet completely transparent. It had the body of a pilsner but the rich aroma, delicate spice, and (yup) that hint of banana made it a step above. A really good beer made with restraint and confidence that yielded new, tiny flavors with each sip.
The gentleman from Legacy suggested I go right next door to Long Ireland and their . . . god yes . . . cask. It was called Celtic Ale, and its flavors were well served by the very light carbonation the cask imparts. Its feel and taste were pleasantly buttery which went well with the slightly hoppy finish. It had warmed a bit too much at this point in the day, but it was still strong if not tremendously unique.
At about 2:45, I wandered to a part of the event I had already been to about 400 times and saw a bright yellow sign peering down, a hideous gargoyle emblazoned on the vinyl. Good god, Stone Brewing was there. Stone is based in San Diego and is one of the real heavy-hitters in craft beer. I briefly mentioned their Levitation Ale in the last post and wrote up their Double Bastard a while back. Their beers are always an experience, and whatever some might lack in traditonally enjoyable flavors, they always make up for in uniqueness. They had their Levitation Ale at the event, and it is absolutely phenomenal. Big and bold but also complex, it feels like drinking 10,000 small parts. Sometimes it is fruity, sometimes it is piney; a vicious smack of hops or a sweet citrus melody. Damn it is good and I was so excited to get a few ounces in at the event.
At this point I ran over to check out the previously mentioned Greenport seminar, and while there I met Jim Brown from Brown Beaver Brewing. He was attending the event as part of the Brewers' East End Revival (B.E.E.R., ya see?), a homebrewing/beer appreciation club. His brewery had won a contest with a frigging PILSNER to be distributed by Blue Point. While they didn't have the pilsner with them, they had several beers on tap for the day at their booth. His friend Mitch Serraino, who has started North Cliff Brewing, rolled over with an Imperial Pumpkin Ale. Let me say, this beer was unbelievable. He estimated it rocking 8.5% alcohol and you. could. not. taste it. It was a smooth and wonderful pumpkin ale that would get you very drunk, very quickly. The kicker? Cat uses pumpkins and hops he GROWS HIMSELF. He probably blew the glass for the mug too.
Over at the Brown Beaver table, I sampled their Hefeweissen and Imperial Hefeweissen. ("Imperial" in beer speak is code for "twice the alcohol you're used to".) The Hefeweissen was great if not terrifically complex, but the Imperial was just emphatic. It harnessed the alcohol taste to accentuate the well-toasted wheat, and it packed complex flavors into every corner. I've always enjoyed oatmeal stouts and wheat beers because I dig the way those grains taste when they're kilned, and this Imperial was a really great example of why. It was rich without being heavy, perfectly carbonated, and brought the wheat front and center, deep citrus and coriander notes holding down the background in a traditional yet non-cliched way. A really great beer from a really, REALLY tiny brewer. It also sort of symbolized a of great craft beer in a way, looking back to tradition while moving forward.
But where exactly are we moving? Is craft beer today merely a reaction to corporate beer? No, though with all the difficult, hoppy-to-the-point-of-pain crafts being made, one could be forgiven for thinking so. Is it all, under the umbrella of craft, somewhat similar? Well, in a way. While the flavors vary wildly, it all seems to have the same spirit. Don't be fooled: you can taste the spirit. You can taste the spirit and the love and the community in each glass. Will it become insular and incestuous or will it assimilate into the mainstream and lose its character? There is a great deal of debate about this and thus about how craft beer presents itself in general. But these two options presuppose that there is an "undesirable element", that if these mooks at the event HAD enjoyed craft beer, they would have deadened its spirit in some way. However, the opposite is true: every convert is one less corporate beer customer. We don't dislike corporate beer because it is corporate; we dislike it because it is terrible. If Abita became huge without sacrificing quality, I hope we would continue to cheer them on. I hope we welcome everyone with open arms, and it is only in the creating of a family that we can avoid becoming as pompous as the winefolk. As far as the mainstream goes, craft beer has always seemed to me to say, "We are going to take our share," and I hope that continues to be true. If that means our favorite brewers pass that imaginary and arbitrary sales mark where they become "too big", that is a small price to pay. Within one day I sampled an absolutely mammoth array of tastes and textures, yet this was only a fraction of a fraction of the rainbow craft beer has created. To keep that to ourselves would be a crime. Enjoy, everyone. And try to enjoy everyone.
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