La Petite Brasserie - Because Beer Matters

Market Correction Brewing for Light Lagers?

2010-06-04T08:15:00.000-04:00

When you have two companies that enjoy about 80 percent combined market share in their industry, and the nation's leading financial publication says they're doing it all wrong, something interesting, and seemingly errant, is undoubtedly afoot.

Yet that's exactly what happened in the pages of today's Wall Street Journal, which, far from celebrating the titanic status of brewing beasts Anheuser-Busch InBev and MillerCoors, has served up something rare indeed: a mainstream smack-down of these companies' extremely mainstream beers – brands that, one could argue, have been repeatedly validated by the marketplace over and over again.

With suave and methodical ferocity, drinks writer Eric Felten lays into ABIBMC over everything from the hollow void where flavor ought to be found but isn't; to asinine marketing strategies that mostly insult consumers while leaving product attributes unaddressed; to packaging contrivances as silly as they are useless.

Felten juxtaposes these observations with the major players' souring sales figures to support a thesis that is substantial and everything craft-beer devotees are dying to hear: As the performance of powerhouse brands like Bud Light and Miller Light continue to bring pain to their owners' balance sheets, Felten wonders, could it be that we are "finally witnessing a great consumer revolt against shamefully bad beer, shamelessly promoted?"

The piece is sprinkled with other fabulous nuggets of anti-industrial-beer-ism:

Taking notes in my blind tasting I quickly found myself running out of ways to describe vapid nothingness.

...

No wonder these beers are so heavily advertised. No one would think to drink them otherwise. And even if there are those who actually like the stuff, the different brews are virtually indistinguishable. Nothing begs for vigorous marketing like products that are otherwise undifferentiated.

Felten's search for deeper meaning behind the brewers' slipping sales figures is both provacative and not out of character for the Journal. Whether he hits the mark is anyone's guess; for the time being, suffice it to say that plenty of people still drink Bud Light, and even like it. Are they merely hypnotized by advertising? Numbed by universal blandness coupled with inescapable ubiquity? It's probably impossible to say.

Nevertheless, kudos to Eric Felten and his employer for taking such a strong posture against the behemoths of the brewing industry. Now, we "real beer" aficionados should not have, nor do I believe we necessarily do have, any illusions of an overnight takeover of the beer market by craft brands and all they represent. But with the help of keen scribes like Mr. Felten, and the circulatory heft of publications like the Journal, we just might see more people asking important questions about the beer they're drinking. And with all due deference to the Coors Light marketing department, that's as refreshing as it gets.

Beer Cocktail Bandwagon?

2010-04-15T22:00:00.008-04:00

I've said it here before – I'm not above mixing beers, whether that's to blend away flaws in a batch of homebrew that I'm not too keen on drinking by itself, or to allow two or more beers' strengths to complement each other, or just for the hell of it.

But mostly this type of diversion takes place beneath the faucets of my kegerator. Something I have never been too heavily involved in is blending beers with non-beer liquids and substances. Yet such so-called "beer cocktails" are assuredly out there, if usually a little obscure and out of the mainstream, and mixologists have over the years crafted more than a few time-honored cocktail recipes showcasing the ordinarily solitary suds.

Maybe it's something about the time of year, or maybe it's just coincidence, but inside of the past month, at least two major publications – Esquire and The Washington Post – have picked up on the topic and turned out some great reads for the beer-cocktail-curious.

Or perhaps the timing is neither seasonal nor coincidental, but rather indicative of something more profound afoot – what else would compel the Post to pronounce, "We can declare that the beer cocktail is having its moment"?

Maybe it is, maybe not. I'm sure that I'm too far away from influential places like New York, Philadelphia and even Washington, D.C., to know just how much steam the beer-cocktail movement has built up. Nevertheless, reading about these clever and oftentimes mouth-watering concoctions – some of which I'd heard of, some I hadn't – is both fun and inspiring.

Of the cocktails Esquire and the Post highlight, I'm particularly interested in the Shandy Gaff, a blend of American Pale Ale and ginger beer; The Saint, which combines Schwarzbier with gin, elderflower liquor and Earl Gray-infused vermouth; and of course the Black Velvet, for which I conveniently happen to have both of the ingredients (champagne and Stout), the pale bubbly stuff being something I do not otherwise find myself normally drawn to.

For the time being, my forays into beer-based drinks have been limited. I've had really-delicious and not-so-good Micheladas before; I once toyed around with a holiday drink featuring rich ale, bourbon (or rum) and egg nog; and I've sampled Berliner Weisse mit schuss (with flavored syrup) – a blend familiar to many beer lovers that was mentioned in the Esquire piece.

But for us beer fanatics, it may seem a little counter-intuitive to take our favorite beers and add things like ice, mixers, liquor and other flavorings – after all, if you're like me, we drink mostly beer because we prefer it to other beverages like cocktails. So why make a cocktail out of beer? Isn't that going backwards?

Perhaps, but then again I think I like the perspective of D.C.-area bartender Rachel Sergi, who offered this sublimely self-evident nugget: "Some might say that beer on its own is better, but I say everything is better with beer."

And when you put it that way...

Beer Cocktail Recipes:
- Esquire
- Washington Post
- That's the Spirit!
- Drunk Drinks

Beer Nog Recipe

(So this isn't the most seasonally appropriate recipe, but hey – I have only so much to offer. Keep this one in mind for the winter holidays. All measurements are rough and from memory. Play around and find proportions that you like.)

10 oz. rich, malty ale*
1.5 oz. bourbon or spiced rum
4 oz. egg nog
grated nutmeg and cinnamon to taste

Serve in an earthenware mug or something similarly rustic-looking

* I used Saint Arnold Christmas Ale, which can only be found in Texas. Something rich, malty and not too hoppy should fit the bill. Dark Belgian ales could be great.

Growing Up Isn't Hard To Do

2010-03-26T23:45:00.007-04:00

When it comes to yeast ranching, I'm usually a mason-jar kind of guy. I scoop up a big helping of slurry and store it in the back of the fridge until I'm ready to reuse that strain – normally not waiting too long so that the yeast stays healthy, fresh and viable.

That's one method for saving yeast at home. Another one is using slants. These are relatively small volumes of yeast grown and kept inside test tubes filled partly with malt agar. (The name derives from the technique of allowing the agar to firm up while the tube rests on an angle, thus maximizing the surface area available for the yeast colony to grow on.)

There are advantages to using slants, including the ability to store the yeast for a very long time (some say indefinitely) and the ability to keep a clean, pure strain on hand to grow from as desired.

I was eager to try my hand at growing yeast from a slant – not creating my own, mind you; that may come down the road – and I was also eager to get my hands on Wyeast 1028, a strain I'd not yet worked with. Enter a friend in my homebrew club, a dedicated slant-keeper and yeast horder, who offered to give me a fresh slant of Wyeast 1028 from his stash after I'd mentioned my interest in it.

When it was time to start growing up a starter of the yeast, I took my slant out of the fridge, made 20 mL of a 1.040 wort with DME, fashioned a loop from a paper clip, sterilized it with a flame, and simply scraped some yeast off the slant and inoculated the wort (a volume so small I was able to start it off in a used White Labs yeast vial).

Following my friend's instructions, I stepped the volume up to 200 mL about 24 hours later, and then up to around 1.2 L another day after that. And with that I had a starter ample enough for the British Bitter I'll be brewing tomorrow.

The exercise has been moderately labor-demanding – there are worse things than doing a small homebrew task every night for a few nights, but plan accordingly – but not anywhere near as intimidating or unreasonable as one might think when first considering entering into the world of slants. Things have gone so well, in fact, that I might even consider setting up a yeast ranch of my own, monopolizing every vegetable and cheese drawer in the process but ensuring an ever-growing and ever-ready stable of strains to suit whatever my brewing fancy demands.

Kölsch 2

2010-03-11T18:33:00.010-05:00

My decision to brew another Kölsch had roughly two sources of inspiration: first, I have a sort of standing desire to keep something light and drinkable on draft at all times, even if I don't always follow through on that desire; second – and more acutely – I had been to visit the new outfit Olde Mecklenburg Brewery in Charlotte, N.C., and when I tasted their delicious, authentic-style German "lagered ales," I knew I had to make some of my own.

A chat with John, one of Olde Meck's very friendly and gracious co-owners, revealed that their Kölsner (a Kölsch with a little extra, Pilsener-style hopping) and Copper (a Düsseldorf-style Altbier) are both fermented with White Labs 029, a strain reputedly sourced "from a small brewpub in Cologne, Germany."

This was good news to me, for among homebrewing circles, the two styles are typically associated with distinct, if similar, yeast strains. Wyeast 2565 is seen as the paradigm of Kölsch yeasts, while for Altbier the choice is usually Wyeast 1007. I had worked with 2565 previously, and while it made an adequate Kölsch on my first and only prior attempt at the style, it did impart a bit more of a fruitiness than I prefer, even in a style that makes allowances for this character.

Given also my fondness for reusing the same yeast strain in a series of beers, I was further pleased to hear that a commercial brewery, in addition to the homebrewers who gave their own endorsement of the idea, had no trouble at all making delicious Kölsch and Alt with WLP029.

With plans already hatching to follow this up with an Altbier, and a Sticke Alt, and possibly the even the likes of a Foreign Extra Stout and a Baltic Porter, I set about designing my Kölsch recipe*:

OG 1.050 FG 1.009
ABV 5.4% AA 82%
IBUs 25 SRM 3

8.75 lbs. / 92% North American Pilsner
0.75 lbs. / 8% German Munich

0.63 oz. / 22 IBUs Magnum – 60 mins
0.38 oz. / 3 IBUs Santium – 10 mins

White Labs 029 "German Ale/Kölsch Yeast"

* The ingredients here actually represent 50% of what was used during this brew session; this was part of a double batch, the other half of which became a Belgian Blonde Ale following a simple-sugar addition.

The Kölsch was fermented at a wort temperature of around 63°, with a primary fermentation length of 20 days. It tasted great already following only around 2.5 weeks of lagering/carbonating, and at nearly three months old the beer still tastes great even if I fear it must certainly be nearing the end of its life.

The nose offers some light fruit esters including perhaps faint berries and even a whiff of mead-like fruitiness. The flavor is crisp and clean with apple-like fruit, a decidedly unobtrusive bitterness, and easy malt on the dry finish. It's pale gold and brilliantly clear.

Given the inherent difficulties with brewing a delicate style like Kölsch, and my inexperience with this particular yeast strain, I can't help but be pleased overall with how the beer turned out. Moreover, I remain very excited about my future adventures with this yeast – as I type 10 gallons of Alt are carbonating and I can't wait to see how that one turned out.

Keep Your Lines in Line

2010-02-16T19:28:00.007-05:00

Kegging. The mere mention of the word sends homebrewers' hearts aflutter as the imagination drifts blissfully to thoughts of wondrous beer variety, nectar of any quantity no more than a tug of the tap handles away, with the onerous chore of cleaning and filling bottles having become a distant memory. In a hobby not short on achievement milestones and plateaus, the transition from bottled beer to kegs for many brewers represents a coveted accomplishment; those who have made the switch find themselves extraordinarily glad they did so.

Ah, but kegging does not come with out its own obligations for the amateur cellarmaster. Proper line maintenance is chief among them. Over time, beer lines will accumulate gunk such as yeast and beer stone, leading not only to an unsightly display but also problems such as excessive foaming and off-flavors. In other words, not something a proud kegging homebrewer will want to contest with.

Since creating my kegerator (outside/inside) in 2006, my typical line-maintenance procedure has been: 1) rinse line with water as soon as a keg empties; 2) give lines a periodic soak in Oxyclean and iodophor solutions. At some point, not too terribly long ago, it became evident this technique was not adequate for maintaining proper line cleanliness.

Thus I acquired some PBW (Powdered Brewery Wash – a heavy-duty alkaline cleaner originally developed for Coors), mixed up a fairly strong solution, flushed the beer out of my lines with water, and then filled them with PBW. I believe I allowed them to soak overnight, after which I rinsed with additional PBW followed by a good rinse with potable water.

The results were remarkable. Though PBW and Oxyclean (or generic equivalents) are similar in composition, PBW was able to rip away deposits that Oxyclean simply couldn't touch. The solution that had soaked overnight came out an unmistakable golden color, tinted by the deposits alone. Simply looking at the lines after the cleaning versus before, the difference is night and day.

It's frightening to think that I had let my lines get to such a sorry state; naturally, they had attained that condition slowly and gradually, making their degradation a little difficult to fully grasp as it progressed. But seeing them restored even close to their native state illustrates just how far gone things had wandered.

A stricter, more regular line-cleaning regiment will obviously become part of my routine. Draft beer at home is among the more wonderful household features I can imagine, and a little effort here or there is more than worthwhile to ensure my beer stays as well taken care of as it keeps me.

"Beer Wars" Swings Hard, Doesn't Always Connect

2010-02-13T11:01:00.009-05:00

Within the relatively insular community of craft-beer lovers (at least, Internet-enabled ones), there has been a modest amount of buzz and excitement, for nearly a year now, about the beer-industry documentary "Beer Wars." The film, conceived and executed by Anat Baron, hoped to do for (or, perhaps, "to") beer what "Food Inc." did for big agribusiness and the American food industry – that is, pull back the curtain on corporate abuses and legal injustices, and draw a stark line between the little guys just trying to make it – trying to get by on wholesomeness – and the evil behemoths bent on squashing competition while not giving a damn about the category itself where they make their billions. (Right: "Beer Wars" poster via BeerWarsMovie.com)

Now that "Beer Wars" has recently attained more widespread availability, primarily through Netflix, more beer lovers who missed last year's special theater screenings have had the opportunity to view and evaluate Baron's efforts. Today I count myself among that group.

As polite people do, let's start with the positives. The film is mostly well-produced, with crisp graphics and animations and a snappy original soundtrack. Baron manages to recruit some high-profile names on both side of the good/bad divide, including executives at Anheuser-Busch (back then pre-InBev), Miller and Coors. And, no doubt of greater interest to the film's target audience (whether by design or by default, anyway): Stone's Greg Koch; homebrewing icon Charlie Papazian; Brooklyn's Garrett Oliver; Dogfish Head's Sam Calagione in a prominent role; and others.

The narrative Baron is trying to weave is clear, and she provides ample evidence to bolster it: The major industry players produce bland, largely indistinguishable commodity products, spend astronomical sums on marketing support to create the illusion of differentiation, out-muscle competitors both large and small, and wield frightening influence over lawmakers for their own – and not necessarily the consumer's – benefit.

Baron rightly shines a light on the outmoded three-tier system, which preserves above all the interests of the monied, powerful beer wholesalers while artificially restricting the public's access to beers they may want to drink, and likewise brewers' access to the market. Though Baron does not explicitly highlight the juxtaposition, the contrast between this system of market-restricting, power-maintaining government interventionism and the brewers' stated (through archival footage, et cetera) devotion to old-fashioned American self-advancement and capitalist ingenuity is quite clear.

The many interviews with craft-beer industry luminaries and aficionados bring into sharp focus the regard this segment of the industry has for the big companies – their products, their practices, their philosophy. And it's an unapologetically antagonistic posture. Which is fine and warranted – Bud, Miller, Coors et al. deserve to be called out for their lowest-common-denominator approach to product development, their crotch-shot-ads-as-core-brand-values approach to marketing, their heavy-handed approach to distribution – but at some point it does feel like piling on. The points are made, and made again. And again. By seemingly every "good guy" speaker who appears onscreen.

What Baron and her sympathizers leave largely untouched is the fact that, like it or not, millions of people do purchase and enjoy American light lager brands, out of their own free will. While conditions and behaviors may conspire to nudge a brewer higher and higher up the market-share chart, there are still innumerable other economic actors helping that corporation along, and it is their prerogative to do so. If it were more economically feasible for AB-IB to brew and market nothing but Dogfish-style crafts, they would undoubtedly do so.

Some of Baron's choices puzzle as well. There are essentially two main characters in the film: Dogfish Head's Calagione and Rhonda Kallman, a former Boston Beer Co. executive. In 2001, Kallman launched the beer-marketing company New Century Brewing Co., initially to produce (or rather, have contract-brewed for them) a new brand of light lager called Edison and, in 2004, a caffeinated lager called Moonshot 69.

Baron returns considerably often to Kallman's story, which mainly consists of her having trouble finding accounts to carry Moonshot (the film makes no mention of New Century's other product) and investors to fund her effort. By juxtaposing Kallman's woes with the unfolding tale of the abuses committed by Big Beer, the implied message here is that Moonshot's troubles are somehow related if not directly caused by the inherent inequities of the industry. But that's a tough case to make, especially considering the evidence. Aside from an anecdote about Moonshot being muscled out of accounts by dubious, possibly illegal means (a legitimate beef), the viewer is left to conclude that Kallman's problems stem mostly from a lack of interest in her product. Baron tries to play up the sympathy card by showing footage of Kallman's husband fretting over family finances and young children crying when mom has to go back out to pound the pavement, but this does not make skeptical would-be investors seem cruel or heartless, nor does it do the same for Anheuser-Busch, of all companies, who rejects Kallman's bid for a partnership.

(I could go on and on about the curiousness of giving so much screen time to a business whose model couldn't be any more different from the quality-first, craft-centric approach embraced by protagonists like Dogfish Head. Baron never bothers to tell us Kallman had been trying, and evidently failing for the most part, to get her business off the ground for about 7 years when "Beer Wars" was made; that New Century thought it'd try its hand in those ghastly light lagers first; that one trip to the Moonshot Web site reveals Kallman's product is clearly marketed to the Red-Bull-and-vodka party crowd, not to quality-conscious, independent-minded craft lovers. That may be slightly beside the point, but it juxtaposes rather oddly with the outright sneering the film otherwise projects toward light-flavored, mass-market, Average Joe beers and everything they stand for.)

In the face of weightier issues, it may seem petty to now raise minor deficiencies of the film, but here goes. Perfectly nice though she appears to be, Baron is not particularly charming as an onscreen host, nor is she a great narrator. And her upfront self-proclaimed credentials as a "beer" industry veteran, who ostensibly can empathize with independents the likes of Stone, rings a little strange when we learn she helmed malternative producer Mike's Hard Lemonade Co. Not exactly in the thick of the craft-beer movement.

I came away from "Beer Wars" quite impacted by what seemed to be a constant undertone of (not jealousy but) complaint directly at the mere success of major brewers like Anheuser-Busch. The film breathlessly tallies up the Big Three's annual advertising budgets (even though the sneakily self-aggrandizing Jim Koch would himself undoubtedly run more TV ads if he could only afford it), talks in dismissive awe of their production output, marvels and sniffs at their sheer size and accomplishments. Shadiness and unscrupulousness aside (and as noted, there is some of that), most of what the likes of Anheuser-Busch accomplished they did so through the machinations, such as they have been since the repeal of Prohibition, of the free-market system – the same system that has enabled Jim Koch's Boston Beer Co. to attain the size it has, or Kim Jordan's New Belgium, or Dick Yeungling's family-owned brewery, or Calagione's Dogfish Head, or any of the other growing companies that make beer people are willing to spend their money on.

Is absolutely everything hunky-dory in the beer industry? No, of course not. But there are times when "Beer Wars" seems to shift its focus away from the real issues in favor of a broad and gleeful beat-down of the corporate giants and a reactionary pushing of the David-vs.-Goliath narrative, even where it might not apply.

"Beer Wars" is an ambitious film that attempts to say and do a lot. It succeeds in many ways. It comes up short in others, and for all the answers it provides it leaves behind more than a few questions. Personally, I'd like to see a more in-depth, multi-part look at the beer industry. Ken Burns-style, perhaps. There is obviously more than 90 minutes worth of material here. That was a clear constraint Baron had to work under, but I can't help but think she squandered more than a few of those precious minutes.

The Session #35 – New Beer's Resolutions

2010-01-01T20:20:00.004-05:00

As we find ourselves in the annual look-forward/look-back mode that New Year's inevitably prompts, Christina and Hallie over at Beer for Chicks have asked the beer-blogging community to do a bit of reflecting and prognosticating for this month's Session. Here's the complete request:

So we want to know what was your best and worst of beer for 2009? What beer mistakes did you make? What beer resolutions do you have for 2010? What are your beer regrets and embarrassing moments? What are you hoping to change about your beer experience in 2010?

Some tough questions up there – a deep reach inside my not-always-reliable memory banks is in order for many of them. I can say that I drank many a great beer in 2009 – Ballast Point Sculpin, Founders KBS and Lost Abbey Duck Duck Gooze are a few that come to mind – and a handful that were not so great, as well. (Possibly the worst offenders would have been homebrews that I'd judged at a competition or sampled at a club meeting; heck, maybe my disastrous Dubbel qualifies.)

On that last note, and as for part two of this month's topic, I made an error or two in the course of my homebrewing. It happens – often from unfamiliarity with an ingredient, or perhaps from plain-old absent-mindedness. But in this hobby, often mistakes are learning opportunities, and foul-ups are followed by better times 'round the bend.

Beer regrets and embarrassments? Certainly, I'd woken up to my share of mornings in '09 where rue and throbbing pain dueled for primacy in my head – the two going hand in hand, of course. But that is nothing to be embarrassed about; rather it's simply a testament to the fact that times were sufficiently good the night prior. Pain is temporary; memories (where not covered over by a boozy haze) last a lifetime.

Looking forward to this year, I may just put a little more thought into my brewing calendar and plan batches out further ahead of time than I have in the past. This is especially important for brewers who, like me, harvest yeast and like to keep a couple of strains in the rotation. I'll also continue adding to my brewing gadgets collection, try out more different styles and ingredients, get out of my comfort zone. As repetition is the key to success, I will diligently brew, brew and brew again.

I'll try to get out and judge at more homebrew competitions in the region. I'll try to travel to more nearby beer events and visit some of the hot spots out there. And I'll try to attend and help put together more tastings locally. Beer is so much more fun when you can share it with other people.

And in 2010, I'm looking forward to having more fun than ever.

How NOT to Fill Out a BJCP Scoresheet

2009-12-29T20:00:00.008-05:00

Homebrew competitions invite organizers and judges to strike a delicate balancing act: How to honor, on the one hand, the inherently fun and casual nature of the homebrewing community, while at the same time being serious and diligent enough to give entrants their money's worth in terms of feedback and attention.

Those who have been through a quality judging course – as part of BJCP training or otherwise – are familiar with some of the best practices: fill out the entire sheet; comment on all aroma/flavor/etc. characteristics as prompted by the sheet; write legibly; tell the brewer where deducted points went and how to reclaim them.

With this in mind, take a look at the two scoresheets presented here (click the images for a larger view), corresponding to a couple entries of mine from a recent competition. Both were filled out by the same judge (same flight), an "experienced" judge who, based on information included on the scoresheet, seems to have recently taken the BJCP exam and is awaiting his score and rank.

Neither scoresheet is exactly a case study in how to evaluate beer. On the first scoresheet, there is plenty of unused white space, the handwriting is poor, and within each scoring section there are characteristics the judge does not comment on. Still, at the end the judge does provide an evaluative statement and offers a recommendation for improvement.

Consider now the second scoresheet. The handwriting is practically illegible and as your eye moves down the page, it encounters less and less writing, to the point where the final scoring section (the one where, incidentally, the most space is given for comments) is left entirely blank. The brewer is left simply to guess as to how the judge arrived at the assigned score, for there is little besides careless pencil scratches to offer any clues.

It's natural to wonder whether the judge had simply "evaluated" too much beer by this point and was worse off for it. Indeed, and in some measure of fairness, Exhibit A was judged fairly early in the flight; Exhibit B fairly late. Nevertheless, the second judge (usually entries are evaluated by a pair of judges) managed to write perfectly legible and thorough comments on both sheets, and at any rate a brewer should not have to fret over whether his beers will be evaluated by adequately sober judges.

In terms of providing useful feedback on how to improve the beer in question, much less providing a careful analysis of the entry, these scoresheets (the second one especially so) are unfortunate failures. I can only say it's good for my sake that I trust my own evaluative abilities enough that I do not enter competitions, generally, looking for feedback on how to improve my beers. (On this particular go-around I had been experimenting with blending beers and entering off-style; the judges tended not to be terribly impressed and my scores reflected that, as you can see; I had half expected as much.)

As a judge, I know that fatigue can set in near the end of a flight or after a long day of evaluating beers. Nevertheless, I do believe that each entry is entitled to the same thorough critique and feedback as is every other one. To see such woefully inadequate scoresheets is discouraging, but even more so coming from a person just now entering the ranks of the BJCP. Know that I do not write these words out of sour grapes – I am not troubled by the scores nor personally distressed by the sparse comments so much as I am dismayed by what appear to be bad habits in the making and the prospect that the next victim will be a brewer who truly relies on judging feedback to improve his beer.

Competition organizers and the BJCP had better take heed: I don't think it's too much to say that the very credibility of homebrew competitions, the BJCP and my fellow BJCP judges hinges in no small measure on the quality of judging entrants receive in exchange for their time, effort and entry fees. We can, and should, do better.

Top-Crop Till You Drop

2009-12-17T22:03:00.016-05:00

Nowadays, the price of yeast (particularly liquid yeast) can make up a fairly sizable chunk of the cost of a batch of homebrew. At up to $9 a vial or pouch (depending on where you shop), this can be a substantial portion of a batch's cost, especially for brewers who buy hops and grain in bulk. Good thing is, there's a simple method for dealing with this. Reusing yeast isn't just a way for frugal homebrewers to save a buck (something we tend to be fans of) but it's also great for building up large, healthy quantities of yeast to ensure great fermentations down the line.

Probably the most popular method of harvesting yeast is to do so after fermentation, when the beer is racked out of primary leaving all that yeast behind. This is effective for gathering up a big quantity of yeast (and depending on your brewing schedule, pitching new wort directly onto a yeast cake can work), but the technique is not without its disadvantages.

Perhaps the main fallback is this: the muck left behind after racking is not purely yeast. There will also be trub from the kettle, consisting mainly of proteins and hop material (subject to that batch's hopping rate and whether pellets, bags, etc. were employed). Harvesting yeast slurry after primary means picking up some non-yeast material, in all likelihood.

Some brewers, as an alternative, choose to collect yeast via top-cropping, whereby the yeast is skimmed off the surface of the wort during the height of active fermentation. This ensures that the goods you are getting are clean, active, healthy and lively yeast cells.

And it's easy to do. I start with a small canning jar that gets a quick soak in some sanitizer. Then I add a small amount (a couple ounces only) of filtered water to the jar, which then goes into the microwave to just to make sure nothing's alive in there. I set the lid on top while things cool off; the steam helps to ensure everything's sanitary even though, yes, I'd already given the jars a sanitizer bath. Extra precautions can't hurt when you're dealing with something as important as your yeast.

The ideal time to top-crop is shortly after active fermentation has kicked into high gear. Give the yeast enough time to move any hop material to the side of the fermenter, but don't wait so long that the yeast mat has fallen too much back into the beer, or you might not find yourself with enough skimmable yeast to fill your jar. A visit to Jamil Zainasheff's yeast pitching rate tool will give you an idea of how much slurry you'll want for your next batch.

I scoop the yeast off with a sanitized spoon and stir it into the water in the jar, which helps knock the yeast off the spoon and will also form a thin, protective layer on top once things settle out in the fridge. With a label affixed identifying the yeast strain, its generation number and date of collection, this little jar of wonder is ready to live in the back of my fridge until it's time to unleash its magic on another bucket of sugar water.

Yeast slurry can be saved in the fridge for several months. Inside a couple weeks, you can usually simply repitch the slurry right into the next batch; longer and a small starter might be helpful to wake things up. Jamil's calculator will help to figure out the yeast viability based on its age and give an idea of how much extra slurry should be pitched accordingly.

Congratulations! You just got to play with nature's coolest fungus*, improved the quality of your future batches and saved some cash at the same time. Now go blow that money on beer.

* Up for debate

Double Brew, Deep Into the Night

2009-12-16T20:00:00.003-05:00

It's not often that laziness lets me down.

But it sure did this past Sunday when, still in the midst of shaking off the previous night's indulgences and waffling over whether I actually felt like brewing, early- and mid-afternoon came and went before I pulled my act together and got moving on a double-batch brew I'd been planning for a while. (And one that, otherwise, would have had to wait until the new year.)

So it was dreary, drizzly and dimming as my strike water heated up, and the mash was conducted under cover of dark:

Well behind schedule already, things weren't about to improve. The mash temperature came in lower than planned, and it took several boiling-water infusions to bring it up. After the sparge, more time was chewed up bringing all this extra volume to a boil – I finally got action just shy of 8 o'clock. And of course, all that liquid meant a longer chilling time than my usual five-gallon affairs.

The yeast were pitched after 10 p.m. and cleanup didn't wrap until close to 11:30. But, as always, any fatigue or annoyance had been largely supplanted in importance by that sense of accomplishment and excited anticipation (colored with a tinge of anxious uncertainty) that comes from having fresh wort in the fermenter, ready for magic to be done upon it.

On top of its nocturnal novelty, this batch was special for its experimental nature. Using the same grain bill and hopping schedule, I split the 11-plus gallons of wort in two for purposes of making two entirely different beers: One, a Kolsch fermented with White Labs WLP029; the other a Belgian Blonde Ale using WLP530.

To account for the higher original gravity and simple-sugar addition employed in the making of Belgian Blondes, I had pulled off about two quarts of wort most of the way through the boil and added to that 1.25 pounds of sucrose (table sugar). That was chilled and added to the Belgian wort as I drained the kettle. Other than that and the yeast strains, the worts were identical: in total, 17.5 pounds of Pilsner malt; 1.5 pounds of Munich; 26-ish IBUs from Magnum hops; and another 0.75 ounces of Santium hops at 10 minutes for the heck of it.

Both batches are now fermenting away happily. The Kolsch (left) is puffing along at around 62 degrees; the Belgian at closer to 66, though I have plans to let that warm up.

Time and tastebuds will determine whether this little experiment was worthwhile. The upshot is twice as much beer for not much more work; the risk is winding up with 10 or more gallons of substandard stuff. This was not my first (nor my second) double-sized batch, but ordinarily I stick to single-fermenter brew days. But then, I also tend to stick with brew days as opposed to nights. Though it would suit my laziness, for the sake of everything else let's hope darkness doesn't prove to be any kind of magic ingredient.

Update: Kölsch recipe and evaluation

One Thing the Beer Community Must Not Let Happen

2009-12-10T12:36:00.008-05:00

Beer, they say, is the drink of the "everyman" – easy, accessible, unpretentious. Wine, on the other hand? That's the domain of the upper crust, the pinky-raisers, the people who take their drink way too seriously and have the vocabulary to prove it. For confirmation, wine-culture haters point to the excessively – and often comically – verbose wine review, wherein the supertasting wine critic cites obscure flavor after obscure flavor, some of which most people never realized counted as "flavors" at all. "Objects found in a forest or tannery," perhaps, but often not the first (or fifth or tenth) thing popping to mind when a sensation flashes past the taste buds.

Take the following example, seen recently hanging on a shelf at a local wine shop/bar:

This example is fairly representative – which is to say, not exceptionally egregious, comparatively speaking. And yet, note the clever assortment of metaphorical adjectives and gratuitously specific descriptors like "bittersweet cocoa" and "Turkish coffee notes."

Besides simply sounding snooty and over-the-top, there's evidence that wine reviews like this may, in fact, be packed with as much B.S. as substance. Behold this fine article from the Wall Street Journal, which cites research data suggesting, among other things, that wine tasters a) probably can't actually detect as many simultaneous flavors as they let on; and b) disagree with other tasters, and themselves, at an alarmingly frequent rate.

So what's this got to do with beer?

As brewers and beer lovers become more serious (no problem in and of itself) about creating, evaluating and promoting quality beer, we see more and more wine-style (for lack of a better term) descriptions and rating methods entering the picture.

This isn't a bad thing per se, but caution must be exercised lest beer find itself in that unenviable position wine now occupies: stuffy, buttoned-up, dour and dubious.

Let's all help accord craft beer the status and accolades it deserves, but always remembering that beers should first and foremost be casual, approachable, authentic and fun.

Even Web Designers Have Had Enough

2009-12-08T11:15:00.006-05:00

Not long ago (that is to say, two posts down), I indulged myself with a brief* rant about the farce that is age "verification" on beer company Web sites.

Well it turns out this isn't the only way booze companies seem bent on making your browsing experience as painful as possible. This article by Louis Lazaris of Smashing Magazine highlights the many horrendous and vexing ways – including, yes, the "painful" ID screen – that alcohol producers have successfully cast notions of usability and pleasurable browsing by the wayside.

From failing to realize that "you can't drink a website" to treating every page like a Super Bowl commercial or Flash orgy, many of the world's major boozeries have tossed sensible Web design right out the window, Lazaris says. And the result, too often, is a poor experience for users and an undermining of whatever noble intentions the company may have set out with.

Big shocker though.When did sensibility ever get in these people's way before?

* Not actually brief.

Hounds Unleashed in Defense of BrewDog

2009-12-01T09:46:00.005-05:00

The beer world has been mildly abuzz for the past day over British beer writer Roger Protz's scathing criticism of a new beer coming out of Scotland that claims to be the world's strongest. Tactical Nuclear Penguin, from BrewDog Ltd in Fraserburgh, is an iced Imperial Stout that purports to have reset the bar at a whopping 32% ABV. In his blog piece, posted yesterday, Protz calls out BrewDog for "their over-inflated egos and naked ambition" and says that, at any rate, TNP doesn't actually count as beer because brewer's yeast tends to poop out at around 14% alcohol.

As might be expected, the comments section practically caught fire as the brewerati swept in to BrewDog's defense (some going more gentle on Protz than others in the process). Twitterers weighed in as well.

Today, Protz responded on his blog, admitting he may have been a wee bit hasty and careless in some of his prior comments, though this allowance didn't come until after Protz had reminded readers of his credentials and wondered aloud about those of his critics. Protz's followup, as much a call for civility as anything, also did not answer questions about why he seemed to take such issue with the basic notion of a high-alcohol beer (especially when it pushes no boundaries of beverage-alcohol strength in general).

As of now, an open question still remains: Why is it a foregone conclusion that TNP is "not beer at all," as Protz asserted? Certainly this is not the first beer to concentrate its strength via freezing, nor would it have been the first to incorporate a wine or champagne yeast if it had done so (there's no indication this is the case, but Protz originally suggested it was and seems to exclude such concoctions from his definition of beer). Plenty of beer aficionados – probably even plenty of beer writers as tenured as the distinguished Mr. Protz – would prefer to fixate on the source of the fermentables (here, grain) as being the chief criterion for what constitutes beer.

If nothing else, this is a huge boon for BrewDog as they will benefit from the added (free) publicity. But it's also a healthy debate to be having – one about traditional versus experimental; sessionable versus sippable; old guard versus new guard; and who gets to make the rules versus who should bother playing by them.

Brewers Calls in the Lawyers. Is Anyone Buying This?

2009-11-24T15:56:00.002-05:00

By now, it's probably safe to say that we're all accustomed to – though not necessarily comfortable with – the overlawyerization of American society. This is typically, and perhaps most visibly, demonstrated by corporations that seem to go out of their way in every conceivable fashion to avoid being sued. (What the hell else to make of this Bridgestone ad that demonstrates the tires' superior maneuverability and then, inexplicably, commands that you "do not attempt"?)

Little wonder that alcohol companies – you know, the makers and peddlers of that dangerous sauce – would be as keen as anyone to keep the lawsuits and judgments at bay, and to heed legal advice aimed at achieving these ends. Thus we see a lot of "drink responsibly," "21 means 21," and other admonishments in booze ads. (Perhaps, as much as anything else, this is to preempt any suggestion that these companies are using their access to mainstream media to market to underage audiences – access they very understandably do not want taken away.)

In the digital age, the latest (and not altogether surprising) manifestation of this cautiousness comes in the form of major brewers placing "age-verification" controls on their Web sites, "restricting" access to only those over the legal drinking-age threshold. Before you can learn, for example, exactly how Coors Light manages to taste so damn cold, or how Miller Lite is able to harness the power of triple-hops brewing, you'll have to either input a date of birth or click a button affirming you are indeed physically, emotionally and (as far as your driver's license is concerned, anyway) otherwise mature enough to be subjected to this information.

It is an utter joke.

Let's start with the easy stuff. First, any fool can tell you there is absolutely nothing to prevent a 14-year-old from fabricating an over-21 birth date, or from clicking "yes, I'm old enough to drink." This is the equivalent of bartenders and shopkeepers simply asking customers their age. It's stupid and ineffective, and you might as well not bother wasting the time. (Ask the 17-and-under crowd how many of them have been foiled by age controls at porn sites and you'll get an idea of how fail-safe this technique is.)

Next, there's the curious matter of why underage Web surfers must necessarily be kept away from this material in the first place. Alcohol companies are already well aware that their advertisements – highly effective, otherwise they wouldn't sink so much cash into them – are consistently viewed by underage audiences. This is no great revelation, and in general society and governments tolerate this on the basis that simply seeing a booze ad isn't going to put the booze in a kid's hand. It might plant the desire in his mind, but last anyone checked, it's illegal for a minor to possess or consume alcohol, not to simply wish that he could.

Why is it that, in the online sphere, beer/wine/liquor makers are suddenly so eager to keep their material away from kids? They certainly don't take the same care when it comes to billboards, or sports stadiums. (One obvious reason is that the Internet is uniquely capable of letting you pay lip service to responsibility while actually doing nothing material or reliable to further it.)

While it is usually the bigger companies who go to the greatest such cover-your-legal-ass lengths (for they have not only the most attractive bank accounts for a litigant to target, but also the armies of lawyers to conceive these measures), we do see the occasional smaller player – craft brewer, since we're interested in beer here – who feels compelled to "verify" visitors' eligibility to look at beer info on a computer screen. Sierra Nevada does it. Sam Adams does it. New Belgium, too. (OK, these are all fairly large participants on the craft scene, big enough to exhibit a dash of corporatism. But even some tiny, brand-spanking-new outfits will ask if their visitors are over 21.)

In this context, it was only partly out of left field when I encountered the most egregious example of audience-filtering I've yet seen. It was the message I received after following New Belgium on Twitter (presumably sent to all new followers):

Can you look at this request and not find it laughably absurd? New Belgium, like most Twitter users, allows their "tweets" to be viewed in the open, by the public – not just by followers or users logged in to the Twitter service. What would New Belgium do to a follower who would be dense enough to reply with an under-21 birth date? Block them? Fine, that person can simply log out of Twitter and view all tweets on NB's Twitter page, just like anyone else can. By publishing to a third-party service, and by not protecting their tweets, NB gives up the means to directly control who does and doesn't view them.

I'll acknowledge what I think would be a likely counterargument from defenders of these practices: "Unlike traditional advertising, Web sites and Twitter provide consumers with a more interactive experience with the brand, and one wherein brands may even be actively soliciting contact with the consumer. Alcohol producers want to make sure that underage persons aren't interacting with the company on this deeper, potentially more dangerous level. And no matter what else, we don't want to help create additional demand for alcohol among the underage set."

Fair enough. Though this does nothing to answer the charge that making users input a birth date is a spectacularly ineffective (and transparently so, if you ask any rational person) means of keeping the kiddies away from the booze peddlers' nefarious influence. Nor does this position have anything to say about New Belgium's chuckle-worthy attempt to imply that one needs NB's permission to view NB tweets. And if brewers – especially the big guys – really wanted to do everything possible to curb demand among the underage ... well, they'd eliminate their ubiquitous marketing efforts altogether.

It's probably too much to ask that the people who actually come in contact with the most proximate symptoms of a minor's thirst for alcohol – the parents, the kid himself, the people who ultimately sell alcohol to consumers – be left in charge of making sure beer doesn't wind up in the wrong hands. Way too much, right?

The Celebrator Glass

2009-11-20T13:52:00.000-05:00

I've written previously about the goat imagery associated with German Bock (the word applies to both the animal and the drink), and here's more evidence the Germans take this linguistic connection fairly seriously. But in this case the Bavarian brewers Ayinger have upped the ante, offering this lovely piece of glassware featuring not one but two billies.

Possibly not by accident: Ayinger Celebrator is a Doppelbock – the "doppel" prefix ("double" in German) indicates the style's comparative high strength versus regular Bockbier, though it can also be translated as "double goat." Twice the Bock? Twice the goats!

Though at least one source claims the Doppelbock style originated at a monastery in Northern Italy, other evidence suggests the style did not come into being until at least a few years after the Paulaner monks had moved, in 1627, to Munich from Italy (this may account for the confusion). It is there, this story goes, that the monks concocted a rich, nourishing brew to sustain them through the Lenten fast. That beer would eventually come to be called "Salvator," thus giving birth to the convention of affixing "-ator" to the names of Doppelbocks.

The Celebrator glass is a smallish (it holds about a 12 oz. bottle's worth), tastefully proportioned vessel, featuring the aforementioned goats embracing a frothy glass of rich brew beneath a gold-accented rim. Perhaps a little abnormally, especially for a beer whose ample vapors are ideally gathered up for proper sniffing, the Celebrator glass flares outward as it sits atop a shapely stem and foot. Ideally you'd like more of a bowl-shape to collect head and aromas, but an exception might be warranted here due to the novelty and attractiveness of this glass. (Boldness, too – most high-gravity beers go with a rounded/tapered option.)

Lent may yet be a ways off but as winter approaches, few beers satisfy like a rich, hearty Doppelbock. Pour one in the Celebrator glass (bonus points for choosing its delicious namesake brew), and you've got a drinking experience that will be hard to beat.

The History of American Brown Ale & American Pale Ale (Kind Of)

2009-11-14T12:23:00.001-05:00

Today, it's easy for us beer people – the committed and the casual alike – to take styles for granted. After all, we have organizations like the BJCP and competitions from the GABF to the World Beer Cup to myriad homebrew comps that help keep beers more or less tidily segmented and compartmentalized for us. Then there are beer-rating sites like BeerAdvocate and RateBeer that allow beer drinkers to see how their favorite commercial brews stack up against their category-mates.

Yet it wasn't so long ago that many of the styles we are so familiar with now were either a mere figment of a brewer's imagination, or even if sitting right under our noses, had yet to be given the proper recognition and codification that today seems like such a no-brainer.

In the former category falls American Brown Ale. As far back as the early 1980s, when all that the world knew of Brown Ales was Newcastle and the like, homebrewers out in California were whipping up their own imaginative take on the style. Scott Birdwell, owner of Defalco's Home Wine and Beer Supplies in Houston, and a seasoned pillar of the homebrewing scene in his own right, tells of a trip to San Rafael, Calif., sometime during the Reagan years:

I was visiting a couple of friends who owned a homebrew shop there (Jay Conner & Byron Burch - Great Fermentations). They had a flyer for a recipe for Purple Passion Dark Ale with John Bull Dark Malt Extract, crystal & chocolate malts, and a ton of hops. This was a popular recipe with their customers and did well in local and regional homebrew competitions, but got slammed in the AHA & HWBTA Nationals for not meeting the style guidelines for "Brown Ales" (assumed to be British brown ales). It was true these beers didn't conform to traditional brown ale standards: they were too dark and too bitter. But, man, they were popular on the West Coast, becoming increasingly popular on the Gulf Coast, and were damn good beers!

Now here's where those devoted, zany and innovative Houston-based homebrewers known as The Foam Rangers (my former club) enter the picture. Their annual Dixie Cup competition, which these days ranks among the world's largest annually, would play a vital role in bringing this unique California concoction into greater prominence. Scott "Da Birdman" again:

We were in the infancy of the Dixie Cup at that time and I decided to include a category for these brews. We already had a category called "No Commercial Comparisons," in which the entries didn't meet commercial standards (at least the commercial beers available at that time). We decided to call the new category "California Dark" in deference to our friends on the West Coast. The category was an immediate success, even if we weren't overwhelmed with entries. ... The AHA immediately picked up on the California Dark category, but curiously decided to name the style "Texas Brown Ale" in deference to us (nice, but we weren't the brewing innovators, just the competition innovators). Obviously this struck a note with homebrewers all over the country as this proved to be a popular style, and eventually the name evolved into "American Brown Ale." This is probably an appropriate name given its widespread popularity. These days I consider "Texas Brown Ales" to be "extreme" American Brown Ales: O.G. at least 1.060 and 40 IBU's, but that may just be me.

For all the strictness and even arbitrariness modern style parameters seem to reflect, this tale reminds us that styles do in fact arise organically – such that even a well-known style like American Brown Ale can be traced to a San Francisco suburb by way of a humble competition in Texas.

But that's not all. Consider this final anecdote from Scott:

As far as I know, Dixie Cup VII in October 1990 was the first time any homebrew contest featured a category entitled "American Pale Ale." In those days, when the number of beer style categories were considerably more limited, we (meaning the Foamers) did not limit ourselves to AHA and/or HWBTA style categories (this was before the BJCP established it's own guidelines). We felt free to establish our own categories with style descriptions for the Dixie Cup. This is how (American Pale Ale) came into being. ... That first year for APA (1990), it was the largest single category we had for that year's Dixie Cup (I seem to recall we received over 30 entries). The AHA jumped on this and incorporated APA the very next spring for the NHC.

Wow, talk about trail blazers. It's no huge leap to say this club and this competition were responsible for the formal recognition of two major American beer styles. And in the case of APA, consider that the very paradigm of the style, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, had been in production for fully 10 years before the national beer-agenda setters, spurred by the Foamies, picked up on the style. Within two years, the GABF got on board, and APA has never looked back since. Ttoday there are over 2,000 commercial APAs listed on BeerAdvocate, more than any other single style.

Behold the power of homebrewers.

The Session #33 – Framing Beer

2009-11-06T00:01:00.003-05:00

A mighty interesting, open-ended topic for this month's Session, hosted by Andrew at I'll Have a Beer and announced here. Our task is to consider how context and framing influence the way we consider and evaluate beers.

There are any number of ways to go with this thought-provoking topic, but in the interest of space and time I'll try to keep my focus tight. And given that many of my thoughts – my beer-related thoughts especially – fixate on homebrew, that seems like a good place to take this Session effort.

Homebrew competitions, by and large, are fine exercises for neutralizing many of the effects of context when it comes to evaluating beer. There are no names, so a brewer's reputation can't influence the judges. Extract vs. all-grain is not specified, so those biases are off the table. Recipes are not divulged, so expectations based on ingredients used cannot be considered. All that the judges have to work with is a declared style and a set of style guidelines against which to measure the entry.

And yet here is where we see how even in such a context-neutral environment as a homebrew competition, framing and context do indeed play key roles. More on that in a second.

As a card-carrying beer judge, I enjoy working competitions and trying my best to provide entrants with constructive, impartial and informed evaluation of their beers. But I know full well that, try as we might, judges are often vulnerable to context and framing influences, just as we are in "real-world" beer-drinking situations.

Let's start with the matter of categorization. So that beers can be properly evaluated against one another, entries are sorted into categories, with sub-categories further specified by the entrant. In so doing, the beers are pitted not only against each other but also a standardized set of guidelines specific to each style, with detailed notes on appearance, aroma, taste, mouthfeel, et cetera all assisting the judge in diagnosing the beer's quality. Thus the beer is framed before it even passes the drinker's lips – it is generally assumed that beers entered into a given category do indeed fall within its parameters; thus judges will tend to evaluate the beer as if it at least roughly fits the guidelines. Variation, where not plainly egregious, is often considered to amount to a mild departure from this or that prescribed quality.

This framing tendency is easily testable. I once entered a dark beer fermented with Witbier yeast and seasoned with coriander and citrus peel in the Brown Porter category. It scored fairly high marks, with none of the evaluators picking up on ingredients that, beyond a doubt, would be officially forbidden in the category. (And had I entered the beer in Specialty and declared the additions, I am certain they would have been commented upon.) Another amusing trick is to cross-enter the same beer in different, though similar categories in the same competition. (For example, Robust Porter and one of the Stout categories.) If the beer receives high scores in both cases, one has to wonder whether power of suggestion had prevailed or there was simply not enough daylight between the categories to reveal one entry as fraudulent. Perhaps a little of both.

Evaluating a beer against its category is only half the judge's task; the other is to suss out flaws in the production of the beer. A whole roster of off-flavors is usually available for consultation (though the experienced judge should already be familiar with these) and it is up to the evaluators, where appropriate, to call a brewer out for them and penalize the beer accordingly. (And, of course, to make suggestions for how to overcome the flaw next time.)

Judges are by no means assured of finding the same flaws in every beer they taste together. Some individuals simply are less sensitive to certain flavors than others – for a long time I did not believe I could easily pick up on diacetyl or oxidation – others may even have a reputation for being extra (or excessively) sensitive to some. I have been on judging panels where, once the score cards are compared, one would think we had sampled entirely different beers. (This makes it all the more gratifying when, in what itself is no rare instance, judges independently pick up on the same things.)

On larger panels, groupthink can become an issue, where a particular idea gains traction and suddenly the entire table becomes convinced that a certain flaw or characteristic is present. Sometimes consensus arrives by way of a particularly strong personality, or others' lack of confidence, or power of suggestion.

I don't mean to impugn homebrew competitions unfairly; on the whole I'd say judges tend to get the calls right, and at the end of the day the best beers are rewarded while the less-than-stellar ones are not. But beware the veneer of objectivity and the assumption it can be achieved to an absolute degree. It just may be that framing and context in beer evaluation – as in just about all other aspects of life – could be unavoidable after all.

Orval Dregs at Work

2009-11-03T17:39:00.008-05:00

I had been extremely excited about my upcoming run of Belgian-style beers, all to be brewed one after another (no non-Belgians in between) and using the same esteemed yeast purportedly sourced from the Trappist brewery Westmalle (and also used by Achel and Westvleteren). Inching up in alcohol, from Belgian Pale Ale to Dubbel to Tripel, this was to be, admittedly, my most ambitious (in terms of uninterrupted focus) series of Belgians yet created.

Well, here we learn, by inverse anyway, of the value of practice and experience in brewing. Being my first time with this yeast, and in some cases with the style, an unfortunate possibility came to pass when none of the three beers came out quite as good as I'd hoped (the Pale Ale being the least offensive of the three), with an unfortunate phenolic bite being a hallmark showing through most clearly in the Dubbel. (The Tripel, for its part, at this point remains so alcohol-laden as to accomodate fixation on little else. Many bottles of it, and the other two, have been squirreled away where neglect and age will hopefully bestow their favor.) Brewing all three in succession did not afford the chance to apply lessons learned within the course of this three-brew series; doing so will have to wait until next time.

In an effort to (1) turn something unspectacular into something potentially interesting, (2) free up space among the taps, where I faced the unappealing prospect of having to trudge my way through mostly full kegs or let them sit and hope things improved, and (3) provide an excuse to buy and drink a beer I don't have often enough, I blended the remnants of the Pale Ale and Dubbel into a carboy (with a dash of Black IPA added for extra bitterness and flavor), created a small amount of additional wort, and pitched into it a starter of cultured-up Orval dregs from two bottles.

Here is what things look like a little more than 48 hours into the experiment:

Note the rather sizeable mat of krausen. This tells me one thing primarily: Orval dregs must not contain simply the "wild" yeast Brettanomyces that helps to lend the beer its signature flavor, but some strain of Saccharomyces as well. Indeed, this much has been speculated upon on brewing forums and even suggested on the Orval Web site itself. I say this because Brett is understood to be a relatively slow worker (activity here kicked off in a matter of hours) that creates a pellicle on the beer's surface.

The addition of around 0.5-0.75 gallons of fresh wort will provide the Saccharomyces and Brett more sugars to consume and assert themselves (while also hopefully countering somewhat the off flavors of the previous fermentation). Additionally, this new wort was given about 2 ounces total of late hops – a small 5-minute addition of Santiam and a flameout addition of Santiam and Mt. Hood that was steeped. This again was intended to provide additional complexity to cover up off flavors while also serving as a nod to Orval's notable late hopping. I think the unusually dark surface of the krausen may owe to this extra hop matter being pushed up to the top. My Frankenstein's monster might be dry-hopped as well, like Orval is.

There's no telling how this odd amalgamation of mine will turn out. My hope is the Brett will impart enough funky goodness to overcome the previous yeast's footprint, while further drying out the beer and helping to accentuate the newly added hops. Did I mention this is my first foray into the use of "exotic" strains like this? Doubly exciting.

The Session #32 – Eastern Beers

2009-10-04T13:14:00.009-04:00

Looks like I've taken a couple months off from participating in The Session, the monthly beer-blogging thing you can read about here. And when I do get on board, I usually do so a couple days late. Like this month.

Our task for Session #32, as assigned by Girl Likes Beer (and recapped here), was to "pick your favorite beer made east [from] your hometown but east enough that it is already in a different country. It can be from the closest country or from the furthest. Explain why do you like this beer. What is the coolest stereotype associated with the country the beer comes from (of course according to you)?"

For Americans, of course, this is an easy question given all the great beer over in Europe (i.e. east of us). I thought I'd try to make this interesting by seeing what beer-producing lands might fall along my same line of lattitude (around 34°) but seeing as how that line will take you through North Africa and the Middle East on the way to China, I'm not sure I have many options there. So anywhere east will have to do.

Having been lucky enough to have traveled to Europe a few times, I can easily pick from any number of delicious beer styles I've enjoyed in their homelands – from authentic, delicious English Bitter and Porter to the wonderful, unique and diverse Belgian ales and the lagers of Germany, Austria and the Czech Republic. For a beer lover, it's something of a pilgrimage to be able to enjoy a beer where and how it was meant to be enjoyed – hand-pulled ale in a cozy London pub; bright, revelatory Geueze in Brussels; liter upon liter of German lager so tasty and drinkable its nearly shameful; Pilsner Urquell that's about as delicious and fresh as it seems beer can be.

These are the easy answers, and there are more just like them. But seeking out great beer is not the only reason to travel; it's a sad truth that some of the world's highly interesting and beautiful places have hardly any beer culture to speak of. Shocking though this may be, it is manageable – not to mention a nice reality check for those of use who might take beer not only too seriously, but for granted also. It's during these times that the rare, unexpected moments of beer pleasure are all the more welcome and rewarding.

With all that in mind, I'll play it loose a little with this Session topic and revisit one such icing-on-the-cake beer moment I wrote about not long ago. In Bermuda this summer – despite its British heritage not exactly a land of great beer – I was more than content to soak up the beautiful water, weather and scenery of such a charming place. So it was all the more enjoyable when I found, at a simple cove-side food shack looking out upon a typically gorgeous Bermudian scene, real, tropical-style Guinness Foreign Extra Stout. The stronger stuff too, not the Canadian-brewed version we get in the U.S.

I hope Girl Likes Beer will pardon my flexible interpretation of her topic, as it bears noting that this Guinness wasn't actually brewed in Bermuda, only consumed there. Though, certainly, its eastern origin remains in place.

Beer historians connect Foreign Extra Stout with the tropics (it can even be called "Tropical Stout") due to the style's former, and to an extent present, popularity there – no doubt thanks to the one-time colonial presence of Stout-loving Brits in places like Jamaica and Bermuda. But for people who don't know of such things, so stout a beer is among the last things they'd associate with these island paradises. Rum and Red Stripe, yes. FES, not so much.

Back at the food shack, I would have been perfectly content to enjoy my pre-snorkel lunch in the company of an uncomplicated European macro-lager. Instead, I got confirmation of what select islanders already know – that a strong, roasty, bitter stout can be plenty satisfying in these tropical environs.

It goes to show that when you're least expecting it, great beer can sneak up on you and make a wonderful experience even better. And if the object of great beer isn't to enrich life, I'm not sure what it is.

This view and FES? I'll take it.

Do You Get It in the Can?

2009-09-15T18:00:00.000-04:00

Now come on, this is too funny:

Drunken Reinbeer

2009-09-08T20:28:00.008-04:00

I hardly ever do clone recipes, whether my own or drawn from other sources. For starters, it's very difficult to faithfully duplicate a commercial beer anyway – especially not without taking multiple cracks at it, something I'm even less inclined to do – and besides, part of the appeal of homebrewing, for me, is creating something original.

But after having my first (and, to date, only) bottle of Odell Brewing Co.'s 90 Shilling, I knew I'd love to have a beer like it on tap at home. Incredibly drinkable, well-balanced and just plain tasty, 90 Shilling is a winner of a beer.

I did a little research, asked around on a homebrew forum or two, and came up with a recipe that, while not attempting to reproduce 90 Shilling down to each detail, was at least inspired by it. So you might call this a semi-clone.

Here's what I came up with:

OG 1.057 FG 1.014
ABV 5.6% AA 74.5%
IBUs 28 SRM 16

58% Canadian two-row
33% Pacific Northwest Vienna
5% Crystal 60
2% Crystal 40
2% British chocolate malt

14 IBUs Magnum – 60 mins
10 IBUs (0.5 oz.)
Northern Brewer – 30 mins
0.5 oz. Cascade – 10 mins

Wyeast 2450 "Denny's Favorite 50"

You may be wondering about the name. This beer was originally brewed to give out as Christmas gifts to family. I wanted to come up with something clever: Drunken Reinbeer seemed to fit the bill. That original batch was fermented with US-05, the dry "Chico" yeast. For the second time around, I wanted to try out the special Wyeast strain I'd had in my yeast circulation at the time. I also made a couple mild adjustments, like subbing North American two-row for the British base malt I had used, and upping the amount of Vienna.

The balance here is slightly on the malty side, with a supportive bitterness that carries the beer's moderate caramel and slightly roasted tones through to the finish. Consistent with what I'd come to discover with a previous batch fermented with 2450, this beer presents a little extra fruitiness that I tend not to prefer in my beers; in fact, my experience with this yeast tells me it does best (that is, agrees with my tastes most) when paired with a Pale-Ale-or-better helping of hops. So, and in accordance with my fondness for blending beers, when I drink this beer I tend to add a dash of something hoppy to help distract from those esters. Presently it's a Black IPA.

If I were the kind of brewer (I'm not) who continually revisits and hones recipes, applying a tweak here and a tweak there, it's quite likely that whatever beer this would turn into might be plenty far from Odell's 90 Shilling, its original inspiration. And if that were to be the case, more the better, right? Better to always brew to your own tastes, in the end.

How Low Can They Go?

2009-08-25T19:00:00.002-04:00

If you're lucky enough to live in Chicago, Dallas, San Diego or one of 12 other special places, you've no doubt been on a heavy Bud Select 55 binge ever since the new low-calorie brew was dropped in select test markets earlier this month.

Spurred by the apparent success of MGD 64, the new figure-watcher from MillerCoors, Anheuser-Busch InBev has upped (lowered?) the ante with an ultra-light beer of its own, prompting the usual ripples of discontent to spread throughout the beer-appreciating world.

The Internet has not been quiet on this one. Drink Update said of the announcement, "How depressing ... Does this mean we can stop calling it beer?" Advertising Age called ABIB's restraint in opting against two additional "55" variations "an apparent gift to beer drinkers everywhere."

"I mean, where does it stop?" Ad Age's Jeremy Mullman lamented.

Above: It could have been worse. (Via Ad Age)

"Light Beer Arms Race Gets Absurd," declared the Washington City Paper. "At some point, you've just got to call it water."

But perhaps my favorite remark is this exasperated plea from the blog Seattle Beer News: "Just stop it."

What many observers have rightly pointed out, beyond the obvious questions over just how much flavor beers with such absurdly low alcohol contents can have (the answer: not very much at all), is the fact that there is one critical component that makes beer beer, and there's simply no getting around the calories it contributes: alcohol.

No surprise, then, that as the calorie wars escalate, alcohol contents must necessarily decline. MDG 64, practically kiddie strength at 2.8% alcohol by volume, is no match for Bud Select 55's 2.4%. That's no typo – even if you doubled Select 55's booze quotient, it'd still fall somewhere between the already-light Bud Light and its plenty-light-as-it-is big sibling, Budweiser. Wow.

At this point it becomes worth asking just how wise it is to pay regular-strength-beer prices for a product that is – there's no other way to describe it – literally watered down. You could buy regular Bud, cut it half-and-half with seltzer water, and basically wind up with Bud Select 55 for half the price. No joke. Or, you could drink half as many regular beers with water alternated in between. Or you could recognize that beer contains calories; try eating well and exercising as proper antidotes.

The Czechvar Glass

2009-08-22T11:22:00.005-04:00

Quick language lesson: In German, the suffix -er is commonly used to denote that a person or thing originates from a particular place – for example, a "Berliner" is a person from Berlin. (It is also, though not necessarily, a jelly doughnut.)

Though few people realize it, this convention is responsible for the name of the world's most famous beer style: Pilsener (variably spelled "Pilsner"). This style was first created in the Bohemian town of Plzeň, in what is today the Czech Republic. The area then belonging to the German-speaking Austro-Hungarian Empire, it was commonly known by its German name, Pilsen, and hence the immensely popular and revolutionary beer style originating there came to be known, consistent with the language, as "Pilsener."

Beer lovers might know where I'm going with this. There is a city in the Czech Republic that was once, and in Germany still is, known by its German name "Budweis." In accordance with convention, the beer brewed there – and there are two major breweries that have since the late 1800s offered their version of Pilsener-style beer – has been known as "Budweiser." Predictably, and as many are aware, this has lead to a never-ending dispute between the brewing conglomerate Anheuser-Busch, owners of the American Budweiser, and the smaller Czech brewers who likewise have the legal right to this name. I won't rehash the history of that squabble here; Internet searches are very handy for that.

One of the breweries at the center of this ongoing spat is Budweiser Budvar, National Corporation, whose flagship product goes by the name "Budweiser" in much of the world and "Czechvar" in the U.S. Which, finally, brings us to this glass.

Budweiser a.k.a. Czechvar is a delightful Pilsener brewed in the Bohemian tradition. Thanks to a recent importation agreement with, of all companies, Anheuser-Busch, Czechvar has enjoyed increasingly strong availability here in recent years. Say what you will about the parties involved; this is a good thing for beer drinkers.

Befitting a beer of such historic and stylistic importance, not to mention its quality, the Czechvar glass is an elegant tulip-style piece of stemware with golden accents. The small text reads "Imported Original Premium Czech Lager" (doesn't that honor go to Pilsner Urquell?) while the seal of the city of České Budějovice, the Czech name for the home of Budweiser/Czechvar, sits above.

An attractive glass such as this one does well with equally lovely beers inside it – clear, golden, sparkling offerings like Pilsner, Helles, Golden/Blonde Ales. The combination makes for a striking, and mouthwatering, visual effect. Being the fine piece of glassware that it is, fun to look at and drink from, I've even put heftier fare like Bourbon Smoked Porter inside.

Beer aficionados tend to lament the arbitrary moniker Czechvar is forced to wear in the U.S. (and Canada too), rightly observing that if any beer should have access to the strictly descriptive label "Budweiser," this one sure qualifies. Nevertheless, it seems safe to say that Budweiser Budvar's naming status on our side of the pond is fairly settled – best to simply enjoy a world-class beer and the fine glass it's served in.

And now for another episode of "Resentful Craft Beer Lover Sounds Off on Mega-Brew Advertising"

2009-08-17T19:25:00.000-04:00

For several months I've resisted the urge to lambaste Miller for their fairly recent, and thoroughly asinine, "triple hops brewed" advertising campaign for Miller Lite. Surely you've seen the commercials, and you've heard Miller proclaim that this process, which they seem giddily proud of, is responsible for Lite's "great pilsner taste."

I don't need to spend much effort telling you why this claim doesn't amount to squat. That's been done so many times already. Here's just a quick summary:

"Triple hops brewing" is essentially standard procedure. Bittering, flavor and aroma – presto, three hop additions. Congratulations Miller, you know how to brew.
It doesn't matter how many hop additions you use if the quantity is barely above the threshold of human perception.
As a marketing term, "triple hops brewed" lies somewhere between the "yeah, so?" plainly descriptive and the nonsensical. Miller wants you to believe they're educating you with a bit of inside-baseball brewing terminology, then they turn around and trademark the phrase, something you do for contrived marketingspeak – which this basically is.
Miller has been insulting consumers for years with their "true pilsner taste" claims – never mind the fact that we know and can both qualitatively and quantitatively state what Pilsners are and what beers like Miller Lite are. You better believe Miller knows the difference, and they just don't care.
If a Miller Lite drinker was actually looking for beer with some measure of hops in it, and you gave him one (an IPA, say), odds are decent he'd find it unpalatable. And that's OK. Miller should stop pretending the beer is something it's not – after all, the consumers Miller is going after already have a pretty good idea what Lite tastes like, and it's disingenuous to suggest that any perceptible differences between it and the other brands come down to Miller's generous use of hops.

For as many facepalms as the Big 3's ads tend to prompt, there's only so much use (which is to say, not much) in taking them on point-for-point. But what all this nonsense does is help bring further into focus what we've long known about mass-market beer advertising: that truth, honesty, objectivity and relevance have about as much place here as they do in an Axe body spray commercial. No revelations here; I've harped on this before.

Still, while this sort of chicanery doesn't surprise us, that it has become so routine does not excuse it either. And routine it is: Miller's not the only brewer bent on annihilating the line between beer hype and education.

Coors Light's handlers continue to hammer away at the meaningless premise that their "frost-brewed" (another non sequitor masquerading as procedural descriptor) beer "tastes" cold. (Where's the "* refrigerator not included" disclaimer?)
ABIB has been touting the "drinkability" of Bud Light while assuring us that its "perfect" flavor is neither too light nor too heavy. (Makes you wonder. What would be "too light"? ABIB's Michelob Ultra, about as light as they get? And "too heavy"? Perhaps ABIB's Budweiser, all of 4.9% alcohol?)

What gets me is not that the ABIBs and MillerCoorses of the world employ such tactics at all. It's the fact that they seem to believe market share is entirely about who can play the game better. To some extent it's true – Bud Light didn't get to be America's top-selling brand by packing the most flavor into every 12 oz. bottle. But if consumer research and sales data tell us that beer drinkers are moving to more flavorful offerings, the answer is not to try and convince deserters that, yes, Bud/Miller/Coors does actually have all the flavor you're looking for (silly you for walking away).

We can't really expect anything to change until the bottom-line pressures become overwhelming. Right now they must not be, so the games continue. Yes, the major brewers have done plenty of experiments with offering more flavorful beers – and when that hasn't worked they always go back to beefing up the core brands. And let's be honest, light-beer drinkers (who, like it or not, seem to generally respond to light-beer ads) remain a far more attractive constituency than curmudgeonly beer geeks calling B.S. on Madison Avenue's latest head-scratchers.

Beer in Bermuda

2009-08-12T19:38:00.002-04:00

What can be said about beer on the otherwise lovely island nation of Bermuda? Unfortunately, not much – and that's a phrase that also describes both the quality and depth of the selection available on this Atlantic paradise.

Which is a shame, especially considering Bermuda's history and heritage. Founded by the English and still part of the United Kingdom, Bermuda is home to a handful of British-style pubs, which strictly speaking should probably be deemed more authentic than most such taverns found off the Queen's immediate turf. How appropriate, then, would it be to find quality British ales (to say nothing of cask-conditioned real ales) in the Bermudian environs, even if weather concerns demanded more in the way of easy-drinking Milds and Bitters, as opposed to Porters, Old Ales and the like.

Instead, we mostly find world lagers like the fairly ubiquitous Heineken, Carlsberg and Stella Artois, with the occasional Guinness and, perhaps surprisingly, Sam Adams sprinkled in. Yes, there's also Amstel Light along with the American Big Three.

Fairness compels me to make a few observations. First, one does not visit Bermuda for the beer selection. Beer geeks might instead focus on the gorgeous scenery and great snorkeling – two areas where Bermuda arguably trumps, say, a Brussels or a London. Second, there is at least one brewery on the island, more than can be said for many places around the world, though I can't speak to the quality of their wares as I did not have a chance to visit. Also, let's not forget that in a climate like Bermuda's, often your lighter lagers are just what the doctor ordered, and indeed one could do worse (one could also do better, but one could do worse) than Heinie, Stella, Sam Adams, and so on.

Lastly, I should mention the hidden gem known as Miles Market, in Hamilton, where a beer-starved visitor will likely to be shocked to find such high-quality offerings as Chimay, Saison Dupont, Victory, Dogfish Head, Westmalle, Paulaner and Fullers, among others. This selection is particularly surprising given that I did not see any of these beers for sale at restaurants or bars. And their mere availability at one spot makes the relative meagerness encountered elsewhere all the more unfortunate.

The island isn't completely wanting for welcome treats when out and about. Real Guinness Foreign Extra Stout, that of the high-octane variety, can be found at otherwise hopeless (for beer, that is) joints like your beachside food shacks. (Now, Beer Advocate indicates there are also local versions of FES from Bahamas and Jamaica; I must say I don't recall reading on the label where Bermuda gets theirs from.)

Rich and hearty, yet strangely refreshing enough for tropical weather, FES affords a great chance to unwind in unique island style. Oh, and perhaps best of all, you can do so while enjoying this kind of view from the porch:

Blogger Scorns Craft Beer; Fires of Rectification Rain Down via Comments Section

2009-08-02T11:27:00.014-04:00

As reported recently by The Beer Brotha, MSNBC stock blogger James Dlugosch stirred up a little more reader interaction than he bargained for in observing recently – in a post about beer, mind you – that "despite what the microbrewers will tell you, all beer is pretty much the same."

You can guess what happened next. Out from the woodwork came beer lovers eager to defend their beloved suds' honor. And boy did they, with a ferocity and bluntness that only the Internet can facilitate. Browse through the comments yourself, or see The Beer Brotha's take for some highlights. Reactions ranged from the "you're-dead-to-me" disdainful to the bitingly sarcastic. Plenty managed to capture the sense of dumbstruck amusement most of us felt after Mr. Dlugosch had so naively – and unfortunately – laid bare his sheer ignorance on the topic he was (we are to presume) being paid to write about. Such tragedy! Such comedy!

Fifteen pages into the ensuing flame-fest, Mr. Dlugosch emerged, lumps confessedly taken, to offer his mea culpa:

Uncle, Uncle Uncle. I give up. Not all beer tastes the same. My bad. In making somewhat of a throw away comment - poorly written at that - I raised the ire of the entire beer drinking nation. How can I rejoin the club? Perhaps if I figure out how to shotgun a beer from a box I would earn back my stripes. It would have been better stated to say that the big beer brands all taste the same (they do at least to me). Anyway, the point of the blog seems to be lost as I really was merely trying to poke fun at the idea of beer in a box. Again my apologies for offending anyone.

Jamie Dlugosch (returning from a trip behind the comment woodshed)

So we're good now, right? Evidently not – currently there are 71 pages of comments; Mr. Dlugosch's apology did little to slacken the onslaught.

Perhaps that's because it may have had the opposite effect. There are clues aplenty in Mr. Dlugosch's reply that he may not have been as contrite as he wanted us to think. Let's take a closer look.

Excerpt: "I give up. Not all beer tastes the same."
Interpretation: Give them what they want right off the bat. "You win, I'm wrong. Happy now?"

Excerpt: "My bad."
Interpretation: Smacks a little of wave-of-the-hand, forced-apology insincerity, doesn't it? This is how young people "apologize" for things, and we all know how insincere young people are.

Excerpt: "... a throw away comment - poorly written at that ... It would have been better stated to say that the big beer brands all taste the same (they do at least to me)."
Interpretation: On this last point he appears to finally "get it," though he may simply be trying to score points by echoing the sentiments of microbrew-loving commenters who had already clarified Mr. Dlugosch's statement for him. At any rate, the problem wasn't with how inartfully the offending sentence was crafted – it was the content itself. Mr. Dlugosch takes a clear shot at microbrewers and then implies that they simply offer style over substance. If this knock was, as claimed, meant to apply only to mass-market brewers, the sentence should have read: "Just as the microbrewers will tell you, all megabrewed beer is pretty much the same." In this sense, Mr. Dlugosch would be agreeing with microbrewers, not calling them out. Sorry, but you can't chalk this up to erroneous wordsmithing.

Excerpt: "How can I rejoin the club? Perhaps if I figure out how to shotgun a beer from a box I would earn back my stripes."
Interpretation: Practically drips with disdain for "the beer drinking nation" he seeks to make amends with. "OK, beer losers, if I do a keg stand, will you stop crying?"

Excerpt: "Anyway, the point of the blog seems to be lost as I really was merely trying to poke fun at the idea of beer in a box."
Interpretation: "Thanks for ruining my hilarious blog post. Losers."

Excerpt: "Again my apologies for offending anyone."
Interpretation: "Lighten up, crybabies."

I should add that I myself have not gotten worked up into a lather over this brouhaha. Mainstream media's ignorance concerning beer stopped shocking me long ago. Yes, it's discouraging on one level, but mostly I find the whole episode entertaining and amusing.

To his credit, Mr. Dlugosch on Friday addressed the issue in a full post inviting beer nation to a discussion on the financial health of the industry, craft and macro. It would have been easy for him to brush off the episode – after all, most of the angry readers likely had simply been tipped off by friends or Internet sleuths; the whole of MSNBC's regular readership didn't need apologizing to. So at least he reached out and tried to right a wrong. Mr. Dlugosch opened with another full retraction and an apology that rang a little less hollow than his previous one, but then no doubt sent a few palms to foreheads in pondering, "While it may be true that the microbrewers craft a wonderful-tasting product, it's not so certain that they make money."

Alas, more enlightenment is in order for poor, embattled Mr. Dlugosch. A more accurate statement might be: "While it is true that many microbreweries have failed, particularly as the bubble burst in the 90's, plenty do make money." One need only consider the slew of successful craft brewers operating today. Mr. Dlugosch acknowledges the publicly-traded Boston Beer Co. – how about big players like Sierra Nevada and the ever-expanding New Belgium; growing outfits like Left Hand; or little-known brands like Houston's Saint Arnold, which doesn't sell a drop of beer outside Texas yet has been expanding for years and is in the middle of moving into a new, larger facility entirely. Or how about upstarts like Charleston, S.C.'s Coast Brewing Co., which would sell more beer if they could only keep up with demand.

So yes, craft beer makes money. Like any other businesses, microbreweries that are well-run, offer a quality product and honor market demands can and do succeed. Not to the extent that brands like Bud, Miller and Coors do – no doubt about that – but I think most craft brewers would tell you they have no interest in that kind of success. Perhaps Mr. Dlugosch meant "it's not so certain that they make enough money to turn the head of a market analyst or stock trader."

No knock on him (necessarily), but perhaps in Mr. Dlugosch's world, if you're not making big moolah, you're not making money. So be it. But I think there's a place in our economy for small, locally run businesses that offer unique, high-quality (and yes, diverse) products to a fervently devoted, if relatively small, constituency.

Vienna Golden

2009-07-21T22:52:00.001-04:00

For two reasons, in late April I realized it was time to brew something light and simple. One: the Columbia summer can get blazingly hot; even Natty Light doesn't do the trick all the time. And two: I had lots of folks (out-of-towners included) headed my way for a big party, so something more "agreeable" to mainstream palates was in order.

I settled on what you'd classify as a Blonde Ale. The recipe:

OG 1.054 FG 1.009
ABV 5.9% AA 83.3%
IBUs 22 SRM 6

100% Pacific Northwest Vienna

17.6 IBUs Magnum – 60 mins.
0.25 oz. Mt. Hood – 20 mins.
0.25 oz. Mt. Hood – 10 mins.

US-05 Chico yeast

Mashed at 149 degrees; fermented at ~60 degrees for seven days. The beer was then kegged.

I went with all Vienna malt to get a little more malty complexity than simple two-row pale would offer. Besides, no better way to get to know an ingredient than to feature it exclusively, and I had recently bought a sack of Vienna.

The calendar was not my friend – party guests were bearing down – and hence this beer was rushed through primary, through cold-conditioning, through carbonating and hastily offered up on tap. As a consequence, it was pretty green off the bat, especially considering the higher-than-expected original gravity and alcohol content (I was anticipating a lower mash efficiency; and how about that attenuation).

Two and a half months since it was rushed to the keg, the Vienna Golden is, happily, doing better.

It pours a clear deep golden color with a white, fleeting head. As with other light beers I've brewed, I'm pleased with the clarity I get from nothing more than whirlfloc (when I can remember to add it – I don't know if I did for this batch or not) and cold-conditioning. The beer is clear enough to read through.

On the nose, faint esters and a touch of cracker malt. It's not entirely as clean as I might prefer in this kind of beer, but on the other hand extra fermentables plus ale yeast are liable to do that for you.

The flavor is crisp, with notes of fruity/rosy esters plus a pale maltiness. Again, it's fruitier than I like my blonde summer quaffers to be, even though, yes, it's an ale. But I've had cleaner-fermented ales in my day. The body is medium with a smooth bitterness that lasts through a dry finish into the aftertaste, where a gentle lingering bitterness predominates.

Lessons learned? Don't get bamboolzed again on mash efficiency, and plan far enough ahead to let the sucker clean itself up and mature properly prior to packaging and serving. Something tells me the Columbia heat will offer plenty of chances for another crack.

Bourbon Smoked Porter

2009-06-21T22:10:00.017-04:00

Back in October, I brewed a double batch of Smoked Porter. The idea was to split the wort, ferment it with two different yeasts, and hit one keg with Bourbon.

Here's how I started out:

OG 1.062* FG 1.015*
ABV 7.2%** AA 75.5%
IBUs 44 SRM 37

39.6% German Rauchmalt
29.2% North American Vienna
16.7% Canadian two-row
6.3% British chocolate malt
4.2% Crystal 60
2.1% Roasted barley
2.1% Crystal 80

29 IBUs Magnum – 60 mins
11 IBUs Magnum – 50 mins
4 IBUs (1 oz.) Glacier – 10 mins

* Wort only
** After Bourbon addition; original ABV was 6.2 %

At this point I had about 11 gallons of chilled wort. Half the batch was fermented with US-05 dry yeast; the other half with Wyeast 2450 a.k.a "Denny's Favorite 50." This strain was first released last year as part of Wyeast's Private Collection series – apparently it's to be released again this summer, albeit with a new designation.

The half fermented with US-05 got a helping of Bourbon on its way into the keg. I wanted something decent but not too expensive; I settled on Evan Williams Single Barrel Vintage, a pleasantly good Bourbon in its own right and maybe even a little surprisingly so, since I don't otherwise drink Evan Williams. I worked with small samples, testing proportions until I settled on what worked out to 18 oz. Bourbon for the 5 gal. keg. If that seems like a lot, maybe it is – the hooch contributed 1.1% extra alcohol, and others had no trouble picking up the Bourbon.

The smoked malt got a little lost underneath what turned out to be a relatively more assertive Bourbon character. It's not over the top (at least, not in my opinion), but there is some discernible wood on the nose and Bourbon flavor on the palate. The not-insignificant 44 IBUs, in conjunction with some dark notes from the roasted barley and chocolate malt, tighten things up nicely on the finish. There's not much contribution from the yeast, as to be expected, and I'm not sure if you'd pick out any 10-minute hops if you didn't know better.

Nevertheless. The combination of roasty malt flavors, smoke and charcoal/oaky Bourbon notes seemed like a winning trio, and indeed they yielded a tasty brew. True, I could go for a little more smoke (which is usually the case when I drink any kind of Rauchbier, even supposedly 100-percent stuff like Schlenkerla; this means I'm basically hopeless) but overall I'd say the integration of flavors is rather nice, with a tasty chocolate note thrown in for added complexity, and despite others' comments, I don't think the Bourbon stands out too much. Just as important is the fact that, although 15% of this beer's alcohol came from straight liquor, the end result isn't too boozy or hot. Credit the high-quality Evan Williams as much as my mixology skills, probably.

The shame of it is, this keg just blew today and I've been so focused on giving this beer away and clearing space for the next brew, I'd never enjoyed it as much as I have just now. Pity.

The Session #28 – Think/Drink Globally

2009-06-05T20:27:00.018-04:00

For this month's Session, hosted by Brian over at Red, White and Brew we get geographical: Brian asked us to write about "the farthest brewery (including brewpubs) you have visited and specifically the best beer you had there."

A quick consultation with my memory banks and a map tells me it's Zum Uerige in Dusseldorf, Germany. That's about 4,350 miles from my current location in Columbia, S.C. For purposes of this exercise, farther still as I was living in Houston at the time of my visit – that's a 5,130-ish-mile trek.

The best beer I had there? Naturally, that would be ZU's famous Altbier, served straight from the cask outside on Berger Straße, in the picturesque, stone-paved setting of Düsseldorf's Altstadt. I've hinted at my affinity for Altbiers before, with ZU serving as some not-so-insignificant inspiration (not that my homemade crack at the style came anywhere close).

Liz enjoying ZU Weisse on Berger Straße

The Altstadt (literally, "Old Town") section of Düsseldorf is known for its picturesque buildings, its side streets crammed with bars and restaurants, its view of the Rhine, and of course, its tasty Altbier. Sadly, I did not visit the other Alt-producing brewpubs in the area – Im Füchschen and Zum Schlüssel round out the Altstad trio; Schumacher, the oldest such pub, is not far away – but did sample some of the other commercial examples – Frankenheim and Schlösser, if I recall. (Boy, sounds like I didn't exactly take full advantage of my visit to one of the world's great beer cities, eh?)

Nor did I spend much time inside Zum Uerige itself, such was the pleasantness of the scene outdoors. Had I taken more than a brief walk inside, I might have seen where that shiny new brewing equipment being moved into the building via crane was headed. (Left: Here I am standing next to some.) The interior of the building is quaint, pub-like and old-timey, with wood everywhere and an intimate feel, befitting its Altstadt surroundings.

So what would a return trip to the Düsselforf region call for? Doubtless, a closer look at the historic Alt breweries that give us such wonderful German ale. And how about a short trip south to visit neighboring – and big-time rival, so they say – Köln (Cologne to us Anglophones), another of Germany's historic brewing centers and home of the delicate, lager-like Kölsch. In a land prized for its stellar lagers, it's remarkable that such a relatively small slice of Germany has given us two of the world's great ale styles. I'd say that's worth the trip for any beer traveller

Spent grain is hauled out to the sidewalk in large bins. Some of it stays behind.

Can I Get Some Tea Parties Over This?

2009-06-03T13:39:00.004-04:00

Woe is government. With the economy on the brink of ruin, government revenue streams have been going all dodo on us. Some legislators have come up with a brilliant solution: raise beer taxes!

In Oregon, one of America's craft-beer breadbaskets, cash-hungry politicians are pushing to raise the state's excise taxes on beer by ... wait for it ... 1,900 percent!

Well, Lew Bryson is having none of this foolishness. Over at his fine blog Seen Through a Glass, Lew lays the smackdown on the notion of beer taxes, and excise taxes in general, in a fiery post designed to get the rest of beer-loving America to stand up for our suds.

It worked on me. I shot off a letter to my national and state representatives voicing my opposition to hiking beer taxes, with Lew's missive providing valuable inspiration. We should all do the same – Congress.org makes it mighty easy.

Update: Before I get to the letter, here are three fine beer-tax-related posts from Brookston Beer Bulletin. They're all particularly germane to this discussion.

Cross-Border Beer Buying (and its impact on state coffers)
Beer Excise Taxes By State (my, my ... way to go, Southeast)
Sin Tax Tyrannies

Typically great stuff from Jay at BBB. OK, Here's my letter:

Dear [Insert Pol's Name Here],

As governments across the U.S. grapple with dwindling revenue sources and ballooning deficits, many leaders have proposed raising excise taxes on particular goods -- specifically, beer. This "solution" has me deeply troubled.

To begin with, raising taxes during a recession strikes me as seriously flawed policy. You are, in essence, taking more money from people who have less of it, and at the same time placing an extra penalty upon consumer activity -- something that, as we know, is a critical engine of our economic health.

In addition, the notion of taxing certain goods to pay for programs and government services that ostensibly benefit all of us is inherently unfair. If we are all to benefit, then let us all shoulder our reasonable share of the burden. I believe in progressive taxation, not in arbitrarily handing a chunk of the bill to people who happen to buy one kind of good over another.

And in beer, once again we have found an easy and supposedly uncontroversial target for extra taxation, on the grounds that higher taxes may discourage use of the product, which would be a good thing anyhow. This is the thinking behind so-called "sin" taxes.

This approach fails to hold up to critical examination. If the objective of raising excise "sin" taxes is simultaneously to bring in additional revenue while also discouraging access to an unhealthy or immoral good, then these are incompatible goals. If a tax is sufficiently high to curb demand, then revenues will fall -- unless, of course, the tax is so astronomical as to make up the difference. In this case we would be dealing with a monstrously high tax of outrageous proportions. Better to just muster the courage to ban the offending good altogether rather than hide behind taxes.

A final word on increasing beer taxes: As a consumer of high-end, specialty beers, I, along with like-minded consumers, already pay significantly more for the same quality of beer than do mainstream beer drinkers. The unique craft brews and imports we enjoy already cost around two times (or higher) more than typical American industrial beers. Raising excise taxes on all beers will price many of these special beers out of consumers' price range -- hurting not only consumers but a number of American small businesses in the process.

Meanwhile, it cannot be overstated that the high-end beers that can least afford price hikes are already of no interest to "problem drinkers" whose consumption is the target of such "sin" taxes in the first place. The beers enjoyed by connoisseurs, by virtue of their price and richness in flavor, are highly unlikely candidates for abuse. It is the mass-market, inexpensive mainstream beers that fall into this category; already they are inexpensive and accessible enough to be far less affected than high-quality artisanal beers.

I must emphasize that I oppose, on grounds of principle, any increase whatsoever in such excise taxes, even an incremental one. Again, if we are all to benefit, then let us all pay our fair share. Tax schemes that work otherwise are not only unfair but, to be honest, the mark of political cowardice.

I hope I can count on you to stand in firm opposition to any increase in beer excise taxes. I will give my support to any officials who fight against unfair tax increases that disproportionately target an arbitrary category of law-abiding citizens. I will not hesitate to withhold my support from those who do not.

Thank you very much for your attention on this important matter.

Levels Check

2009-05-30T18:33:00.011-04:00

One down side (there aren't many) of kegging homebrew is not knowing exactly how much of a given beer is left. Yes, you can lift a keg to see how heavy it is, but this serves as only an imprecise gauge, and carries the risk of disturbing that nicely settled sediment.

So it was with a mixture of surprise and disappointment that I took note of my own woefully dwindling supply today after I'd emptied out the kegerator so it could be moved. With the kegs lined up and warm air all around them, very soon a band of condensation formed around each keg up to the level where cold beer sat on the inside:

Ouch. Nearly all of those are looking mighty low. One is basically empty, which would make two vacant slots in the kegerator. Thankfully, I have a batch just about ready to be kegged.

I had unwittingly set myself for one blown keg after another. I can thank the heat and humidity for tipping me off about this looming crisis. Time to ramp up the brewing if I'm to stave off the potential drought before me.

News and Some Beer Videos

2009-05-28T20:22:00.011-04:00

Sad News For At Least One Ignorant Alabama Politician

Background: You are about to hear Alabama state Rep. Alvin Holmes' carefully-considered objection to legislation that would raise the state's alcohol cap on beer from 6 percent by volume to a much more reasonable (though still arbitrary) 13.9. Mr. Holmes, you have the floor:

Unfortunately for Mr. Holmes and ignoramuses everywhere (or at least, in Alabama), HB373 passed the full body earlier this month and was signed into law by Gov. Bob Riley on May 22. If it's true that West Virginia Gov. Joe Manchin recently signed a measure bumping his state's 6 percent ABV limit up to around 12, that would leave only Mississippi as having such an obscenely low ABV limit on beer. Congratulations, Mississippi.

On Budweiser's Famous Daily Quality-Control Tastings

By way of Brookstone Beer Bulletin. Check out the related post for some enlightening inside info on these all-important critiques.

I Am A Craft Brewer

That's the name of this feisty video that Stone's Greg Koch used during his keynote address at last month's Craft Brewers Conference. The video, rather well-done, I'll note, features cameos from many of the industry's brightest stars. Sure, it may smack just a bit of self-congratulation, but most craft beer lovers will eat it up. And why shouldn't they – there's some powerful truth being spoken here. Beer-geek bonus challenge: How many brewers can you ID?

Looks like Koch, or someone, has put together a little Web site for posterity. Again, credit goes to Brookstone Beer Bulletin for bringing this to my attention.

Yes, They Can*

2009-05-18T12:25:00.009-04:00

Craft beer in cans, once unheard of, is something we're seeing more of these days. Colorado's Oskar Blues Cajun Grill and Brewery began canning their stuff in 2002; today they are generally credited as the first major entrant in the craft-beer-in-a-can movement.

And it's a bandwagon that's had more than a few breweries hop on board. Some new operations dove into canning from the get-go – Heiner Brau of Louisiana and Texas' Southern Star among them. But the trend hasn't been limited to startups and little guys. New Belgium Brewing Company, by at least one account the nation's 3rd-largest crafter brewer and one of the 10 biggest overall, rolled out a canned version of its flagship Fat Tire Amber Ale about a year ago. More recently, the Fort Collins, Colo.-based brewer has started offering Sunshine Wheat in cans as well.

Today, dozens of craft breweries in the U.S. and Canada have gone the aluminum route. The advantages, for consumers, brewers, distributors, recyclers and everyone else, are many. I won't rehash them here; Lew Bryson already did a fine job of that.

Pictured above is a very tasty canned craft brew, this one from Caldera Brewing Company in Ashland, Ore. The Beaver State, of course, is home to more than its share of great breweries, and so it bears noting that Caldera became, in 2005, the first Oregon craft brewer to can its beer. Curious how it's done? Check out this neat little video:

Beer afficionados, generally, have come around to the notion that great beer doesn't have to come from bottles. The Oskar Blues offerings, from Pale Ale to Pils to Imperial Stout, are all well-regarded. Southern Star's Pine Belt Pale is a delightfully hoppy affair, and comes in 16-ounce tallboys to boot! And New Belgium, certainly, is no stranger to critical or commercial validation.

While the popularity of canned craft beer is growing here in the U.S., the concept is still regarded as something of a novelty, and a fairly rare one at that. Contrast that with what you find in Europe, where some very major – and downright world-class – brews have been available in cans for years. The Belgians are particularly fond of this, canning everything from Pilsners to Tripels to Lambics. How about Rodenbach in a can? Hoegaarden? You get the idea.

Meanwhile, in Czech Republic, Pilsner Urquell cans some of their fine lager and even exports some of it to the U.S., I'm told – a major improvement over the skunk-inviting green bottles PU otherwise sends our way.

So is canned American craft brew a mere fad or a revolution in the making? This much we know: the benefits of cans are very real, but for craft brewers, stupendous cost savings are not currently among those benefits. As with all processes, efficiency should improve in time. Will beer consumers' preferences keep pace?

* With apologies to Oskar Blues and everyone else who's already used this pun.

The Warsteiner Maß

2009-05-12T12:39:00.009-04:00

Have I mentioned my fondness for German beer? I believe so. It's not just that the Germans make a diverse range of extraordinary beers. It's not just that Germany has given us some of the world's great beer styles. Heck, it's not even just because the Germans, rightly or otherwise, refuse to brew with adjuncts or other flavorings and reliably churn out quality and variety in spite – or, more probably, because – of this.

These are all good things, and any single one would compel our admiration. But on top of all that, you've just got to love German beer because Germans love it so much, too. Need proof? Check out this big honker of a beer mug brought to us by Warsteiner, at one liter in capacity a veritable bucket of joy and an apt physical representation of the Germans' legendary thirst.

In its native land, this voluminous mug and others like it go by the name Maß (pronounced "mass"), which is short for Maßkrug. Stoneware or glass, decorated or otherwise, the Maß can come in any number of configurations (here I am drinking from the commonly seen dimpled version), though the constants tend to be its ample volume – one liter – and its handle.

In and around Munich, where grand beer halls and gardens typify the German taste for high-volume beer service and consumption, the roomy Maß further obliges this penchant in appropriate fashion.

And this is to say nothing of Oktoberfest, the world's largest beer-drinking party, wherein natives and foreigners converge on Munich to hoist Maßkrüge (approximately 7 million liters' worth!) in unapologetic indulgence of world-class beer. Take away the Maß, brimming with beer and joyfully swung side to side by hearty revelers, and our image of Oktoberfest, the zenith of Germany's propensity for beer appreciation on a large scale, would hardly be the same.

The Maß is most often used for your everday-drinking beer. In Munich, this is usually the delightful Helles, a staple of Bavarian beer halls and gardens, flavorful enough to demand all-day consumption yet light enough in alcohol to allow it. The Warsteiner Maß pictured above, meanwhile, is intended for use with that brewery's signature Pilsener. During Oktoberfest, as you might imagine, Oktoberfestbier is the brew of choice, which these days displays less of the amber color and maltiness of its cousin Märzen, instead tending to be light and Helles-like.

The Session #27 – Beer Cocktails

2009-05-03T14:00:00.005-04:00

Who says liquor must be involved when you're thirsting for a mixed drink? Not Joe of Beer at Joe's, who asked beer bloggers to consider their favorite beer cocktails – you know, black and tans, half and halfs, or maybe something more esoteric – for this month's Session topic. Since I'm late to the party, others have already weighed in and Joe has posted the roundup. Well, no matter. Here's my (belated) take nonetheless.

Proud kegerator owners (there's the tease) may know where I'm about to go with this Session entry. If not, they are wise to pay attention. There are advantages to having beer on tap at home. (Well, that should go without saying, shouldn't it?) From a versatility standpoint – not to mention a personal-pride one – even better when that beer is homebrew.

Of course, keg-owning homebrewers are perfectly familiar with these advantages – less hassle than bottling, ready availability, more control over carbonation, and all that. But what you don't hear cited very often is how easy – and gratifying – it is to blend beers straight from the tap, in virtually any proportion you like. And I probably don't have to mention, this works out best the more beers you have on tap.

For starters, it's a way to inject some life into a beer you're not too thrilled about. Got a beer that's just a bit on the fruity side, for example? A dash of high-octane IPA can balance things out nicely. (Or not so nicely, if you prefer to go over the top.) Heck, keeping some hop juice on hand, always good policy anyway, is handy for discovering what a given beer would taste like with a little more hoppy kick to it.

You can go the other direction, too – blend in some Stout or Porter to see if you can turn that Pale Ale into an Amber or Brown. And so on. Blending together two (or more) beers that are perfectly good in their own right can yield some delicious results.

Some mighty fine beer (Gueuze, anyone?) is produced via blending. No reason to think there aren't some exciting and tasty possibilities just a few pulls of the tap handles away.

Time Looks at Homebrewing

2009-04-26T11:58:00.001-04:00

A nice video from Time that looks at our little hobby and its rising popularity.

Enjoy.

New Breweries Report

2009-04-19T13:22:00.005-04:00

Good to see some entrepreneurism – and beer-related, at that – in this "economic climate" we keep hearing so much about. New Orleans' NOLA Brewing Co. is up and running on Tchoupitoulas St. in the Big Easy and plans are afoot for a new outfit called Three Rivers Brewing Co. here in Columbia, S.C.

NOLA earns the distinction of being the only packaging microbrewery operating within the city of New Orleans. (Abita and Heiner Brau are north of Lake Ponchartrain, out of town, and Big Easy, which was originally brewed in Marrero anyway, is brewed under contract by Heiner Brau.) It was founded by Kirk Coco and right now features two products: a Blonde Ale and a Brown Ale, brewed by the inimitable Peter Cadoo, longtime member of the Crescent City Homebrewers and former brewer at the venerable Dixie, still shuttered since Katrina and currently being brewed by the Minhas Craft Brewery in Wisconsin.

Here's a fine read on NOLA Brewing Co., its clever twist on the familiar "Nola" name, and the greater Crescent City brewing scene in general, courtesy of The New York Times.

Meanwhile, some 675 miles to the northeast, entrepreneur Doug Aylard hopes to open Columbia's only microbrewery in August, in a mixed-use zone off North Main St. Planned brews include Turkey Hunter Ale, Half-Wit Hefe Weisse, Spiderbite, Broken Down and something about a "lizard man" (I'm not making this stuff up), according to this report from The State. Here's more from the Free Times.

The Wisdom of Jean-Pierre Van Roy

2009-04-16T17:28:00.003-04:00

If you love Cantillon, or lambic, or Beligum, or beer in general (You do love all those things, don't you??) then you must check out this great read from Evan Rail's Beer Culture blog.

Take special note of Van Roy's little nugget about industrial vs. artisan beers. Amen, monsieur.

The Spatenbräu Bock Mug

2009-04-02T18:51:00.003-04:00

We know the Germans tend to take their beer seriously. Well, if this ornately decorated mug from Munich's Spaten-Franziskaner-Bräu is any indication, they take their glassware art pretty seriously, too.

Talk about an intricate design – well more than your average Joe starting at (or into) a mug of beer would probably care to occupy himself with.

But he should – there's lots of interesting stuff going on here (click the image for a closer look). Beer folk won't puzzle over the billy goat featured so prominently here; rather, they'll likely take it as a strong clue as to what beer the Spaten bräumeisters have in mind for this glass. "Bock," it so happens, is the German word for the horned creature we see here, and although it's been suggested that Bockbier derives its name from the city of Einbeck, where the style is said to have originated, the billy goat has become firmly established as official spokesanimal for these rich, malty brews.

And indeed, close inspection of the design reveals this glass belongs to "Spatenbräu Bock," a fairly rare Maibock that makes most of its appearances (or its recent ones, the evidence suggests) on draft only. I've not had this beer in a few years, but I recall it being good – typical of Spaten offerings.

Above the familiar spade logo, the billy rears magnificently in front of what are either rays of light or stalks of barley (Both nourish and sustain life, don't they?) while what looks like a hop bine curls overhead.

Drink enough powerful Bock from this ample (half-liter) mug, and you might end up feeling as mighty as its strapping, confident mascot. Best to stay away from the tin cans, however. Your teeth will thank you.

Almost Altbier

2009-03-14T00:01:00.002-04:00

Famed for their lagers though they may be (and rightly so), the Germans can whip up a quality ale or two. You may have heard of such top-fermenting all-stars as Hefeweizen, Kölsch and Weizenbock. Add to the list Altbier, the copper-colored, imminently well-balanced ale found most famously in Düsseldorf, in northwest Germany.

Quick beer lesson for those who don't know: "alt" in German means "old," and so the name "altbier" refers litterally to the old style of brewing – that is, the brewing of ales, which was the de facto norm before the development of lager brewing around the 16th century. So really, as much credit as we give Germany's brewing heritage for its impeccable lagers, Altbier offers a glimpse even deeper into the nation's beery past.

With all that said, I took a crack (my first) at an Altbier (BJCP parameters) of my own.

The details, for a 5-gallon (final volume) batch:

OG 1.057 FG 1.010
ABV 6.1% AA 82%
IBUs 54 SRM 12

48.8% (5.25 lbs) German Munich
47.7% (5.125 lbs) German Pilsner
2.3% (0.25 lbs) Caramunich
1% (2 oz) Carafa III

5 IBUs (0.5 oz) Spalt – FWH
47 IBUs (1.05 oz) Magnum – 50 mins
0.5 oz Spalt – 5 mins

US-05

That last ingredient should help make sense of the "almost" in this post's title. Of course, genuine Altbier is brewed using a real, Germany-sourced Alt strain – Wyeast 1007 and White Labs 036 are popular choices – and here I've simply used a dry American ale strain. Partly this was out of convenience, but the move was not entirely haphazard: German Alt strains are crisp, clean, dry fermenters, and so is US-05. I fermented at around 60° to help keep ester production to a minimum.

At first, the flavor bordered on off-putting (almost "foot-like," for lack of a better descriptor); this may have been due to the Spalt hops, which I'd not used before. Could simply be an acquired taste. The flavors, as would be expected, mellowed and smoothed out with a bit of lagering. It's now been more than six months in the keg, and still drinking fine.

Yet certainly, this beer is no match for such authentic classics as Zum Uerige or any of the other Düsseldorf beauties I was lucky enough to sample on my visit there. But if nothing else, simply the act of sipping my own attempt reminds me just how sublime Altbier can be. And that, for sure, gives me something to shoot for.

The Session #25 – Love Lager

2009-03-13T12:37:00.005-04:00

Though some in more Northern – read: still frigid and snowed-under – climes may disagree, with the welcome if gradual warming of the Southeast upon us, John at The Beer Nut picked an appropriate topic for this month's Session. Going "back to basics," John invited us to talk pale lagers: "what's so great about them, and what's awful ... is there a time for some thoughtful considered sipping of a cold fizzy lager?"

I have the luxury of being a week late with this Session post and therefore able to review John's Session roundup and his reaction to how others tackled the subject. Seems John wanted us to go all in with this whole "fizzy, cheap, yellow" thing – not hide behind statements like "Helles is awesome in Munich" or "I drank my weight in Pilsner Urquell in Prague." Which is a pity, because I would enthusiastically offer up both declarations.

No matter. You want cheap beer, you say? Confessions of a macro drinker? You've got the right guy.

I feel no shame in admitting that I've had more than my share of "mega-swill" pass through these kidneys. Like most American males, I cut my teeth on whatever was cheap and plentiful (and alcoholic, let's not forget) – Natty, Beast, Icehouse, High Life, whatever. Does Malt Liquor count? Make mine OE 800. When you're on a budget and have simple tastes, such things will do.

Oh, but why should wealth and sophistication mean we put those days in the rearview? Well into my craft-beer and homebrew days, I have maintained an occasional habit of reaching for the frostiest, fizziest, yellowest, corn-and-riciest beers around. Often I'll go through phases, "committed," almost, to a particular cheap brand until it starts tasting heinous and the novelty wears off. Then I move on. I don't always keep crap beer stocked next to the "real stuff," but periodically some makes it into the fridge. I'm not ashamed.

My tendency toward going low grade is much stronger when drinking outside the home. Here are some times when I am not ashamed – not ashamed, mind you – to take off the beer-snob hat:

At tailgates. For most of the football season here in the SEC it's about 130 degrees. You tell me Busch Light isn't refreshing as hell then.
At dive bars. You say Natty Light is $1 all day, every day? I'll take 20, thanks. PBR on special? Sign me up.
At others' houses/parties. Free Bud Light? Let's see – I have a hand, a mouth and a bladder. I'm in.
Just because. Miller Light is on special and drinking it gets me an extra Bingo card? Fine.
When I'm in for the long haul. At hardly more than 4% alcohol by volume, the light stuff keeps thirst at bay without packing the wallop of an equal quantity of 6.5% IPA. Sometimes inefficiency's a good thing.
When in Rome. Red Stripe, Bohemia, Jupiler, Kronenbourg – all acceptable (and maybe even a little tasty) in their native lands.

So there you have it: One man's lack of shame over tipping back the odd cheapo beer. If given half the chance, I'd do it again. And again. And again.

I'm Guessing this Isn't an Old Dominion Oak Barrel Stout

2009-02-28T16:10:00.012-05:00

It's light and yellow and probably cost $12, but here's something for all beer drinkers to feel good about: President Barack Obama sipping some suds at last night's Wizards-Bulls game. (Note the total disregard for the fragile impressionability of the youngster seated next to him.)

(Photo from Deadspin)

Does Verizon Center sell local beers anyway? I don't know; last time I was there I had taken care of my drinking beforehand. And if my opening comment seemed snarky, I hope no one will think me a hypocrite – last night I enjoyed quite a helping of Natty Light, always cheap and plentiful at Uncle Louie's, one of my favorite little joints in town.

But even if Fordham or Wild Goose were on offer, maybe Obama would have passed them up in favor of something a little more basic – he's pulled something like that before (5th graf) and apparently he's wary of craft beers (7th graf). On the other hand, he tried (and failed) to get beer from a Chicago brewpub for the inauguration and visited Bethlehem Brew Works before the Pennsylvania primary. (But did he actually enjoy the beer? This face says maybe not.)

One last thought: Considering the beatdown Obama's Bulls took, he could have used a beer or two anyway. Would've been a shame to suffer through that without any liquid consolation.

R.I.P. Bill Brand, Bay Area Beer Writer

2009-02-24T13:48:00.003-05:00

Happened Friday. Here's the Oakland Tribune's story.

The Session #24 – A Tripel For Two

2009-02-06T14:44:00.010-05:00

Reminding us that 1) beer is best when shared and 2) big beers are best for sharing, David at Musings Over a Pint posed the following question to us as this month's Session topic: What Tripel would you pick to share with that good friend, family member or lover? Beer bloggers the world over will be weighing in on this matter today; expect the roundup to be posted soon at MOAP.

I'll skirt the question a bit by offering up my initial reaction to David's query: It doesn't matter.

I'm not being flippant. What I mean by that is, I'm not so interested in what Tripel I'm sharing, but where I'm sharing it. And the "where" in this instance has simply got to be Belgium.

I was lucky enough to have visited Belgium a couple years ago. Any beer geek who hasn't been wants to go. Those who have been want to go back. And the reason is simple: Belgium's significance in the global development of brewing heritage and tradition cannot be denied, and its output ranks among the most original and revered of any of the world's major brewing regions.

So what's the best Tripel-sharing experience I can imagine? Put one in my hand, and my companion's, in Brussel's Delirium Café, or in Antwerp's Kulminator. Or on any sidewalk where you can sit at a table and watch the world go by.

Sorry if I'm being a little heavily romantic here. But when it comes to Belgian beer, there's nothing quite like enjoying it at the source, where it's fresh, delicious and plentiful. There's also an excitement that comes from knowing you're not special just because you drink Belgian beer. Once that realization hits, you know you've come to the right place.

The Diebels Alt Glass

2009-02-04T17:19:00.003-05:00

You think Germany, you tend to think lagers. It's understandable – we're talking about the land of Helles, Pilsener, Dunkel and Bock. But in a place as rich in beer heritage and accomplishment as Germany, the native top-fermented beers likewise merit our acknowledgment and appreciation.

No doubt, the most obvious such examples are Hefeweizen, the renowned wheat beer of Bavaria, and its derivatives (Dunkelweizen and Weizenbock, for example). There is also Kölsch, the pale, almost lager-like ale that dominates its home town of Cologne (Köln in German). The last major ale style in Germany is Altbier (Alt for short), a copper-colored, ridiculously tasty treat native to the German state of North Rhine-Westphalia, and in particular its capital Düsseldorf.

I'll avoid delving into too much history and description of this style (for that, visit the always fantastic German Beer Institute), but suffice it to say the name "Alt" itself hints at the longevity of this beer style while its flavor attests to the collective versatility of Germany's brewmasters, past and present.

Perhaps the most famous Alt comes from Zum Uerige, one of a handful of Alt-producing brewpubs in Düsseldorf's charming "Old Town" section. It is here where locals and reverent beer travelers gather on outdoor picnic tables to enjoy nectar like ZU's Alt, sometimes gravity-drawn from casks, and sipped from straight, cylindrical glasses called "bechers." (Similar to the "stange" used to drink Kölsch.)

The particular glass seen here, from Brauerei Diebels in Issum, may not represent the "typical" becher-like shape that other Altbier producers opt for, but as the official glassware of a major Alt brewer, it is worth taking note of.

Notice the tall, slender body that widens on its way up. This makes for a fine presentation (see it full) if not the best means of gathering up head and aromas.

Nevertheless. There is plenty to admire about authentic German Altbier and those who brew it. So hoist your becher or Diebels glass and toast a national brewing tradition rivaled by few in terms of history, breadth and consequence, and a beer style that embodies that tradition.

The Erdinger Glass

2009-01-15T16:39:00.006-05:00

You can look at a hundred brewery logo pint glasses and you're apt to find very little, if any, variance in the shape of the glasses themselves. Inasmuch as the tumbler has become synonymous with the concept of "the pint glass," this venerable glass is the primary design of choice when it comes to branded drinking vessels for breweries large and small.

Contrast that with the Weissbier glass, discussed in this space recently. While there are general design parameters that seem to govern the construction of these glasses, there are variations to found among various breweries' interpretations of this classic design.

Case in point: this shapely specimen from Germany's Erdinger. Decidedly taller and slimmer around the middle than some examples, this glass reminds us that Weissbier glasses' proportions are far from fixed.

Check out some others: Ayinger | Schneider | Tucher | Franziskaner

The Weissbier Glass

2009-01-13T22:21:00.010-05:00

Weissbier (in German, Weßbier) goes by many names: Wheat Beer, Hefeweizen, Weisse, Weizen, Weizenbier and Hefe are common variations. But proper German Weissbier, no matter what you choose to call it, is a staple of sun-dappled Bavarian beer gardens and the drinking hand of anyone looking for that frame of mind, and is as strongly connected with a particular glass as beer styles get.

Like the Bavarian barmaid you imagine delivering that frothy cup of goodness, Weissbier glasses are almost universally tall, curvaceous and of course brimming with radiant blonde beauty. They're typically sure-footed, with a slender midsection beneath a round, ample top. I'm sorry, are we still talking about glassware?

Hefeweizen is a good-looking beer (click here for proof), and its glassware, tall and shapely, compliments that aesthetic well. Highly carbonated, Hefe also benefits from the roomy upper reaches of this glass, allowing plenty of space for that fluffy white head a well-poured Hefe boasts.

(Confession time: I'm not a huge Hefeweizen/Weissbier fan. And not for lack of sampling. For whatever reason, while I can recognize quality, I have a hard time getting revved up for this style. I keep telling myself I'm going to brew some again to try and break my stubbornness.)

No surprise here, this glass is best suited for Hefeweizen/Weissbier/pick your moniker. And while I believe all beer should be drank from a glass, I think that's especially so with this style. Hefe should be poured to allow some of that exuberant carbonation go free, lest you get little more than an explosion of gas and bubbles in your mouth on every sip from the bottle. What's more, the delicate yet complex flavors and aromas of this style are best explored from the proper glassware.

One last quick note: There's nothing to prevent one from pouring other beer styles into this glass. Indeed, I know of at least one chain of beer bars that uses this glass for extra-large Happy Hour pours. Its tapered mouth helps collect aromas and flavors up top, so there's nothing particularly offensive about the design. I'd probably stay away from Belgians and high-gravity styles if only because the sheer volume of the Weissbier glass would put it out of range of such beers, which tend to be consumed in smaller servings. But lighter beers and American and British ales? The well-equipped beer drinker probably has better glasses to reach for, but otherwise...

Columbia Pale Ale

2009-01-11T22:25:00.012-05:00

Q: Whom or what is the city of Columbia, S.C., named for?
A: Famed explorer Christopher Columbus. Columbia, as it happens, is the poetic form of Columbus.

How appropriate, then, that this Columbia resident would name a recent Pale Ale, hopped with 100 percent Columbus hops, in honor of both the varietal it showcases and the city where it's enjoyed.

Real quick, a history of this beer: I had purchased a bunch of Columbus hops and wanted to get to know them. Few better ways of doing that than using them as the sole hop in a beer. This beer was also a little experimental in that I made only two hop additions: first-wort hops (FWH) and dry (keg) hops.

The recipe:

OG 1.053 FG 1.010
ABV 5.6% AA 80%
IBUs 46 SRM 9

90% Canadian two-row
5% Crystal 40
2.5% Crystal 60
2.5% Crystal 80

46 IBUs (1.38 oz.) Columbus FWH
1 oz. Columbus dry hop (keg)

Wyeast 2450 "Denny's Favorite 50"

At first I thought this beer was much more bitter than its calculated 46 IBUs. (Calculating IBUs from first-wort hopping is something many homebrewers debate, but there is at least some consensus that the while the real number may be higher, FWH imparts a "gentler" bitterness such that the perceived IBUs are equivalent to a hop charge two-thirds through the boil. So, for a 75-minute boil, I and many others calculate FWH IBUs as if the hop charge came at 25 minutes.)

Before long, however, I came to regard the 46 IBUs estimate as accurate enough for my purposes. At any rate, I entered this beer in a recent competition as an American Pale Ale and it did rather well; one judge noted the bitterness was a little on the high side, consistent with my initial impression. But no way is this an IPA.

It could use a little more hop flavor (through some alchemical process first-wort hops are said to have their flavor fixed in a beer despite going through an entire boil, and I'd say that's true – but when does a little extra hop flavor ever hurt?) and also aroma. I'm a little surprised at how low the hop aroma is (something else the judges picked up on) considering there's a full ounce of hops in the serving keg. But on the other hand, there were no late hop additions in the kettle to help bolster that aroma.

I really like Wyeast 2450 for American beers that have a dash of character – in other words, basically anything APA and up. I used 2450 in a Blonde Ale not long ago and found the yeast's esters, while not unpleasant, were just a little too much in such a simple style like that – to my tastes, anyway. But with hops and a dash of malt thrown in the mix, this yeast's mostly clean, smooth profile is a great match. I've also used it in an IPA and a Smoked Porter, all with fine results. Definitely one to keep in the rotation.

As for the Columbia Pale Ale, this beer reinforced what Adam Avery had already taught me by way of his glorious Hog Heaven Barleywine – that there's no reason you can't lean on Columbus hops start to finish. Sure, I'll ramp up the dosage next time, but only because I know it's a good idea. Until then, here's to an intrepid adventurer, a town that honors him, and a hop that just embodies New World goodness.

The Session #23 – Last Year/This Year

2009-01-06T19:29:00.006-05:00

It's the first Session for 2009, so host "Beerme" at Beer and Firkins has asked us, appropriately enough, to look back on The Year in Beer 2008 (what will we miss?) and also think about what might await us in '09. (Check out the roundup at B&F.)

So here's the partly-abbreviated-but-not-really tale of a fine beer experience I had in 2008 – one which I surely miss and will continue to long for in that misty-eyed, alco-romantic way.

I spent a good chunk of late spring/early summer in Europe, enjoying such places as Paris, southern France, Spain and London. As is often the case when I vacation, the trip consisted of me trying to beer-hunt as much as possible without driving my travelmates crazy.

Enjoying beer in strange lands is always an exhilarating experience, but perhaps never more so than when those lands are some of the world's great beer hotspots, where you can take in classic beer styles as fresh as can be and in the places where and among the people with whom they were meant to be consumed.

For that reason I consider myself extraordinarily lucky to have visited Belgium, Germany and the Czech Republic in the past (and let's not forget, to live in the United States right now), and to have spent time in London last year. Anyone moderately versed in beer styles and beer history knows why England is a special place for people like ourselves, and a visit to the pubs of London should almost be considered requisite for those who have the inclination and the means. For me, it was little short of a revelation.

I had drank cask-conditioned (American) beers in the past, and liked them. I had drank plenty of English ales in the past, and depending upon the style either liked them very much or felt indifferent at best. But English cask ales, in England? Hoo boy.

The first thing worth remarking is how plentiful hand-pulled real ale is in London. Any "authentic-looking" pub worth visiting (now here's a circular definition) has several cask ales on offer. Yes, some pubs carry only a major brand (Fuller's rules at The Hung Drawn and Quartered – that's just one of plenty of examples) but England's many free houses feature small, independent breweries that even a devoted Yankee beer snob is likely never to have heard of. Either way, who cares – it's delicious and it's authentic.

And how about the fact that many of these ales boast alcohol percentages in the low 3's. You may at first have to reset your thinking from a low alcohol = low flavor mindset. Give me a hand-pulled, 3.2-percent Dark Mild any day, thank you. Give me several, in fact. That is, after all, the idea.

The whole experience was enough to make this hitherto English-ale-agnostic homebrewer seriously consider going on a British brewing binge. Speaking of which, I'll wrap this up neatly by naming that as my beer item to look forward to in 2009. It's just a damn shame I don't have a beer engine...

The Culture Bière Glasses

2009-01-01T23:50:00.012-05:00

Paris is, unquestionably, a wine town. Yes, the City of Lights has its beer bars (Au Trappiste is recommended) and even a good beer shop or two (La Cave à Bulles = excellent), but let's not kid ourselves – in Paris, as in just about all of France, they love their grape juice and it shows.

So it's nice to find a house of beer worship located right smack in the middle of the Champs Elysées: Culture Bière, a swanky, upscale suds joint/restaurant run by and featuring some of the lesser known brands of Heineken International. (That last detail might chafe the anticorporate, grassroots-oriented beer purists among us, and perhaps not unreasonably so, but let's acknowledge that such a sleek, well-designed and expensively located joint could only have been made possible thanks to deep pockets like Heineken's.)

The Culture Bière glasses, like the restaurant where they are put in service, are well-made and attractive. Two are seen here – there is also at least one additional design, a squatter version of the glass in the right-hand side of this photo.

These two glasses are elegantly shaped, with thick round stems atop solid circular feet. As you can see, the taller of the two glasses widens slightly toward the top, while the other tapers a bit. Both feature an etched version of the Culture Bière logo. (Elsewhere, the vertical lines are of progressively darker colors, to represent diversity among beer hues.)

Slender and attractive, these glasses are fine fits for lighter beers like Pilsner or, as in this example, Blonde Ale. For beers that offer up much more in the aroma department, I usually try to reach for something whose design is more conducive to swirling, gathering smells, and all that.

No, France may not be known as can't-miss destination for beer devotees, but hats off to Culture Bière for taking on no small challenge in bringing sincere beer evangelism to all those oenophiles in Paris, and for whipping up some sharp-looking glasses while they're at it.

Christmas Beers on NPR

2008-12-25T10:53:00.003-05:00

What's so great about the holidays? Two things jump to the front of the mind: relaxation and overindulgence. And what better way to engage in both than by piling up the food and popping open a bottle or several of some special brew?

Brewers the world over respond this time of year by releasing their own unique holiday offerings – often rich and hearty with winter's chill in mind, and many spiced in that Christmas-y way. Joe "Sixpack" Russell identified 10 such seasonal releases, and NPR took note.

I myself have a bottle of Chimay Grande Réserve (not a holiday beer but always a special treat) chilling in anticipation of Christmas dinner.

The Session #22 – The End of Prohibition

2008-12-05T16:09:00.014-05:00

Today's a big anniversary – and no, I'm not talking about Columbus' arrival on Hispaniola, Walt Disney's birth or Mozart's death.

It's even more important than all that. On Dec. 5, 1933 – 75 years ago – the 21st Amendment was ratified, thereby repealing Prohibition and making it legal to produce, transport and sell alcohol for the first time since the 18th Amendment took those rights away some dozen-plus years prior.

Most appropriately, this month's Session is being hosted by none other than the 21st Amendment Brewery in San Francisco. The guys at 21st Amendment asked us: "What does the repeal of Prohibition mean to you? How will you celebrate your right to drink beer?" They'll be compiling the results soon on their blog.

The first one is an easy question for me, and anyone else who cares enough about beer (or any of the "intoxicating liquors" that so offended Andrew Volstead and his many collaborators) to share our love of it with anyone with an Internet connection.

What does Repeal mean to me? It means all the growth and innovation we've seen in the beer industry over the past 20, 30 years wouldn't have been possible otherwise. It means I'm thrilled that we have more than 1,400 craft breweries in the U.S. (but I'd like to see even more) that continue to explore new flavors, refine time-honored styles and make today and every day the best time to be a beer drinker in America.

It means we don't have to cross oceans and borders (not that we shouldn't) to explore the amazing and unique beers being made in places like Belgium, England and Germany.

And of course, it means that the most fun and rewarding hobby I've ever had – making beer at home – won't earn me a visit from some latter-day Elliot Ness. And on that note, the irony is not lost on me that in Utah, the state whose ratification of the 21st Amendment made it official, homebrewing remains illegal.

Above: Proud to brew
So how did I celebrate my right to drink beer? First off, by starting this post on Friday only to shelve it so I could judge homebrew at the Palmetto State Brewers' annual competition Friday night and all day Saturday. It's now Sunday, and I feel no remorse in neglecting this post so that I could spend a weekend celebrating beer.

I'd be shocked – shocked – if we ever see a return of the widespread temperance movement that lead to Prohibition the first time around. But anything's possible. We need to stay vigilant for efforts to undermine the right of responsible adults to enjoy beer, wine and liquor safely and sensibly, and push for more sensible alcohol regulation at every opportunity.

Here's hoping that in another 75 years we'll still be celebrating Repeal, common sense and beer.

Economics vs. Tradition, As Usual

2008-12-04T17:38:00.002-05:00

I have to thank on-top-of-it beer writer Lew Bryson for this scoop: Heineken NV will be closing its Beamish & Crawford brewery early next year.

Those who enjoy a Beamish now and then (and those, like me, who think it and Murphy's occupy the top two slots among the Dry Irish Stout Big Three) will be heartened to know that the Beamish brand won't be dying off – just that production will move to another Irish brewery of Heineken's (in Cork, like Beamish & Crawford) where, by the way, Murphy's is produced. How's that for consolidation?

More on this.

Not Actually Coming Soon...

2008-12-02T23:36:00.006-05:00

These labels were mocked up for a class project myself and some fellow graduate students did. Anyone with $850,000 to spare who likes the look of these pretty pictures is welcome to contact me.

Click on the labels for a larger view.

Coming Soon...

2008-11-26T17:27:00.005-05:00

Corner Lot, Please

2008-11-22T23:59:00.009-05:00

Now here's a neighborhood that has its priorities straight. This beer lover's intersection is located in Colorado Springs, Colo., home of the Air Force Academy, U.S. Olympic Training Center and, barring a coincidence here, one very cool and lupulin-inspired developer.

© jimaamot.com; used with permission

"Honey, I'm Off to the Pub. Yell if You Need Me."

2008-11-16T10:14:00.008-05:00

What do you get the lush who thinks he has everything? How about his very own bar?

The folks at ~~clothing retailer~~ home-improvement center Neiman Marcus are advertising what is sure to be the hottest holiday gift since Tickle Me Elmo: an Authentic Guinness Home Pub, also sometimes known by its alternate names: the Most-Popular-Guy-in-the-Neighborhood Room; the Where-Did-My-Husband-Go? Black Hole; the Jobkiller; the Brawling Grounds; and of course, the Where's-All-This-Black-Vomit-Coming-From? Chamber.

Imagine – it's a rainy Sunday morning and you're wide awake, stuck with nothing to do during that unfortunate time between sunrise and NFL kickoff. Worse, your favorite watering holes have all yet to open! Well, how about heading downstairs (heck, have it installed in your bedroom) to your own personal Irish pub for some liquid breakfast?

"Pull me some of that black stuff, Seamus," you say. But wait – there is nary a mutton-chopped, rosy-cheeked barman to be found. Oops! Lost in the moment, you forgot that at (Insert Your Name Here)'s Pub, you are the bartender! And the customer, and the owner, and the creepy drunk who mutters to himself at the bar and leers inappropriately at your wife. Anything goes, and "last call" is unheard of.

It gets better. To become properly oriented as an official Guinness bar owner, you and a friend will be shuttled to Dublin for a VIP tour (and, we can presume, overindulgent tasting binge) at the St. James's Gate Brewery, home of Guinness for nearly 250 years. But save some of that thirst, because waiting for you at home will be your own supply of fresh Guinness Stout. One year's worth.

If you think this little slice of personal heaven on earth doesn't come cheaply ... you're right. The price tag? Try a quarter million. Powerball tickets, anyone?

Blonde Ale

2008-11-12T21:07:00.011-05:00

Simple, gorgeous and satisfying. Who doesn't love a blonde?

Blonde Ale, that is – what did you think I meant??

This easy style makes for a nice, uncomplicated quaffer, which also makes it a good tool for initiating those who consider "Bud Heavy" branching out. At the same time, there's enough going on here to keep beer geeks from turning up their noses. Better still, of course, the homebrewer is free to do as he pleases in concocting the Blonde of his dreams.

In my case, this golden beauty was conceived with a number of purposes in mind. First, of course, was to have something light and drinkable on hand. Second was to get some yeast going from a Wyeast smack pack I had just purchased. Third was to use up some hop leftovers I had on hand. And fourth, an ancillary objective, was to do a little experiment of sorts with some other yeast I had on hand – more on that in a second.

The stats:

OG 1.046 FG 1.011
ABV 4.6% AA 75.4%
IBUs 30 SRM 3

100% Canadian two-row
0.28 lbs light dry malt extract*

11 IBUs Simcoe – 55 mins
9 IBUs Newport – 55 mins
5 IBUs Cascade – 55 mins
0.4 oz Mt. Hood – 20 mins
0.4 oz Mt. Hood – flameout

Wyeast 2450 "Denny's Favorite 50"

* for starter; pitched along with yeast

I fermented this at about 65°. It was around 18 days from brew day to keg, with several days' worth of crash-cooling in there. About two weeks of carbonating/cold conditioning was all I had the patience for before tapping.

This beer is a pale golden color with a nice white head. The clarity has continued to improve with time; it's now just about crystal clear. There's not too much on the nose except a light floral note and some fruitiness that I take to be yeast-derived. (This was my first time working with this yeast, a strain noted in homebrew circles for its association with the even-more-famed Denny Conn, who donated some of his club's stash to Wyeast for this limited release.)

Flavor-wise, this beer is light and uncomplicated, with a touch of fruitiness as previewed by the nose. The mouthfeel is soft and smooth, the finish increasingly bitter from the above-style 30 IBUs.

In general, I do not care for much fruitiness in my beers, and this is particularly so in lighter styles, where there is less to hide behind. As such, I'm guessing I'd prefer this beer more with a cleaner yeast, like US-o5. But that's OK – as I said, this beer was as much about growing some yeast for larger subsequent batches as anything else.

This Blonde Ale was actually only half of a double batch. Into the other half I pitched White Labs 400, a Witbier yeast. I had some slurry on hand and I wanted to see how this yeast would perform in a "naked" beer like this. I had already brewed a pretty good Belgian Pale Ale with this strain; at any rate I can only control my fermentation temperature for one batch at a time, so a second batch has to ferment at room temperature. That made WL 400 a good candidate, being that it has a fairly high temperature tolerance. I may devote a post to the outcome of that little experiment, but in the mean time suffice it to say I'm not blown away by the results. Oh well, guess I'm stuck with five more gallons of beer I have to drink...

How About Now

2008-11-05T01:59:00.002-05:00

I have a couple bottles of North Coast Old Stock Ale 2004. I've had them for over three years. I've increasingly wrestled over when to crack one open, and increasingly it's seemed only a big moment would warrant consumption.

Damn, it's tasty.

At Capacity

2008-10-28T23:37:00.009-04:00

In case anyone's wondering, this is what 13 gallons of hot-breaking wort looks like in a half-barrel brew kettle:

That's a double batch of Smoked Porter in progress. Semi-coincidentally*, this batch also pretty much maxed out my mash tun with its 24 pounds of grain. I only had room for about 1.5 gallons of mash-out water, meaning I actually had to supplement my two batch runoffs with a one-gallon mini fly sparge during the second batch.

Not complaining, mind you. Two batches of Smoked Porter are now bubbling away happily with the aid of two different yeasts, and one of 'em will probably get dosed with bourbon. Oh, blessed be the fruits of our labor...

* I say "semi-coincidentally" because O.G. has a lot to do with that.

Zat's All Folks

2008-10-22T14:13:00.004-04:00

And so disappears what could be considered the paradigm of a controversial era in the history of American brewing.

Zima, the much-maligned but for a time much-consumed standard-bearer of the "malternative" craze of the late 90s-early 2000s, is no longer in production and will start disappearing from store shelves as this year turns into next, MillerCoors has announced.

How many high schoolers furtively cut their teeth (especially their sweet teeth) on un-beers like Zima and Mike's Hard Lemonade? (I always had trouble excusing the sickly sweetness of these beverages just for the sake of a buzz. And drinking enough to actually achieve your goal? The nausea rises just thinking about it. Make mine Southpaw, if it comes to that.)

No word from MillerCoors if carb-watching among American teens is to blame for Zima's demise.

The Flared Pilsner

2008-10-12T21:31:00.009-04:00

As mentioned in this space already, the Pilsner glass is a rather broadly defined category of beer-drinking equipment. (Just click here and you'll see.)

What we have here is a Pilsner glass that, while not especially common, should not strike experienced beer folk with its novelty, either.

Like other Pilsner glasses, this one is tall and slender – a good shape for showing off the golden, sparkling aesthetics of its namesake brew. But from a functional standpoint, this piece of glassware falls short of other options due to its pronounced flare at the top. Good for capturing neither head nor aroma for any length of time, the out-turned lip ill-serves the well-poured Pilsner in that regard, although it does, at least, deliver the gilded brew easily and gently into a waiting, salivating mouth.

No surprises here as to which beers are best offered up to the flared Pilsner glass: German and Czech Pils; plus other light fare like Helles, Dortmunder and Kölsch – though be aware you may be breaking convention here. (And since head retention and aroma are nonexistant anyway, why not an American Lager?)

But let it be said: There are better places to put your Pilsner.

Brilliant! Stout

2008-09-25T23:00:00.001-04:00

Dry Stout is a misunderstood style, particularly when the general public is involved. (But isn't that always the case?) Sometimes called Dry Irish Stout due to its historical connection with and popularity on the Emerald Isle (Guinness, Murphy's and Beamish, Irish all, are the examples perhaps most likely to come to mind, in that order), here's a beer that tends to be light-bodied and low in alcohol (the three aforementioned brands being no exception) and yet is widely perceived as being the exact opposite – big, heavy, strong, overpowering.

Why? The first reason, of course, would be the color – jet-black and intimidating, not like those friendly, easy-drinking mega-lagers folks are used to. Then there's the flavor – strong (that is to say, existent), roasty, quite bitter. And finally the mouthfeel – a blend of CO2 and nitrogen (something many commercial examples, including the three above, feature) imparts a creamy, velvety texture to Dry Stout that is often taken for thickness, heaviness.

Of course, we homebrewers and beer snobs are wiser than this. Apart from its flavor – yes, Dry Stout is dark, coffee-like, rather bitter – there is in fact little in the way of alcohol content or body to put Dry Stout in the category of real heavyweights like Imperial Stout, Doppelbock and Barleywine.

Call Dry Stout session beer for a chilly day. Or for a hot day. Just don't call it "motor oil," and don't let your scaredy-cat pals call it that, either.

Here's my Dry Stout, very heavily based (hops and yeast being the differences) on a well-regarded recipe by Bob Girolamo.

The details:

OG 1.056 FG 1.013
ABV 5.7% AA 76.5%
IBUs 44 SRM 33

80% Crisp Marris Otter
8% Flaked Barley
8% Roasted Barley
4% Crystal 120

1 oz Magnum 60 mins (44 IBUs)

US-05

As you can see, the alcohol content on this one is pretty high by Dry Stout standards. Partly that's because I hadn't gotten my mill yet so I had ordered precrushed grains from an online supplier. As such, I wasn't sure what kind of efficiency to expect, so I wanted to err on the high end with my order. (I ended up with ~74% efficiency. Not bad.)

The name, selected by my girlfriend, is an homage to the recent Guinness advertising campaign, although I will note that this brew was never intended as any kind of Guinness clone, and was served on just CO2.

Not surprisingly, based on accolades directed at Bob G.'s recipe, this one turned out very tasty. A big hit among my girlfriend (who loves Dry Stouts) and everyone else who came over to sample it. I didn't perform any experiments on dyed-in-the-wool light-beer drinkers, but based on my friends' feedback (surely they're not just being polite??) I'd venture to say Dry Stout's potential for wide appeal is not to be underestimated.

On a more somber note, this particular beer didn't make it through a recent party. It had a good life, and put many a smile on many a people's face. Wish I had a glass right now...

Crazy Hot Break

2008-09-07T18:25:00.021-04:00

Look what was churning around my boil kettle today. This has got to be the craziest hot break I've seen – big clumps of coagulated protein that look like angel hair pasta. (John Palmer has described it as "egg drop soup.")

The grain bill was nothing but Canadian Two-Row – 16 lbs. of it for a 10-gallon batch.

Click on the images for a larger view.

The Session #19 – Deutsches Bier

2008-09-05T16:50:00.019-04:00

Been meaning to do this Session thing for a while now, but dammit if I don't forget every month. And it almost happened again, but for a chance visit to Lew Bryson's blog today that jogged my memory.

This month's theme is "Deutsches Bier" – German beer – and how the world is a better place for it. (And it is, thank you.) Our September Session is being hosted (and shortly, aggregated and summarized) by lootcorp 3.0.

I'm tempted, really tempted, to use this opportunity to rail against Germany's famed Reinheitsgebot, a.k.a. "German Beer Purity Law" of 1516. I'm tempted to point out that it's an outdated (by, oh, around 500 years) piece of legislation whose original purpose was to protect the production of bread, not beer. Tempted to point out the fundamental flaw in this attempt to fix the acceptable constituencies in beer before we even knew about yeast. Perfectly tempted to go on about stifling creativity, expression and the free market for no good reason. I'm tempted to do all these things, but I won't. I'll leave that to this guy.

If we are to equate wild, rambunctious and unrestrained brewing practices with greatness (can you say "Belgium"?), then maybe we ought also to bemoan the Reinheitsgebot for keeping one of the world's great brewing traditions needlessly handcuffed and kept from achieving its true potential.

On the other hand, how about arguing that by forcing German brewmasters to limit the scope of their focus, perhaps, and by instilling a strict adherence to the doctrine of "beer purity," maybe that silly old law is to be thanked for the roster of outstanding, technically masterful beer styles Germany has to offer today.

Ooof. Such philosophical and academic exercises are downright meaningless when you're in the streets outside Zum Uerige, sipping fresh Altbier poured from a firkin. Or downing beautiful golden Helles from a giant mug in the Augustiner Biergarten. Or enjoying barbecue with a smokey, velvety, seductive Rauchbier. Or fighting back the pucker instinct gifted by a gloriously sour Berliner Weisse. (Take that, Belgium.)

Germany, I say give me your Doppelbocks, your Dortmunders, your Schwartzbiers. Your Weizenbocks, your Kölsches, your Märzens.

Let's be honest – how often do we demand that our beers have adjuncts and extraneous flavorings in them? What's in an IPA that would offend the German Beer Police? (You thought I was going to say "Beer Nazis," didn't you?)

The Olympics ended last month, so I hope you'll follow me on this: Without taking a moral stand on the Reinheitsgebot issue, we can step back and regard Germans beers like we do the Chinese athletes churned out from that country's gymnast-and-diver mills. Sure, there may be some government meddling involved here. OK, things might have turned out differently. But damn – they're still something to marvel at.

Old Guinness

2008-08-23T00:04:00.007-04:00

A friend of mine recently gave me some old beer he had going to waste in the back of his fridge. In the course of a conversation, it was revealed that some folks had brought beers to his place for a party, and that the brews had been sitting there, all alone and quenching no one's thirst, for a while. The time had come, he declared, to toss them out.

I might as well have been a dog rescuer who'd just heard an adorable Shih Tzu was about to be put down. Immediately I volunteered to take the unwanted beers off his hands. My friend's bemused reaction bordered on disapproval, as if I had just betrayed a most pathetic length to which I'd go in the name of alcohol. These beers, he informed me, were most certainly ancient and well past drinkable.

I had to calmly explain that, first, beer does not spoil – many beers can become fairly unpleasant after enough time, but not harmful to drink. Secondly, I was interested in sampling these relics not in the name of catching a cheap and dusty buzz but as an educational experience. The beer geek in me (he has a say in a lot of things) wanted to know what effects age had wrought on these beers.

Receiving my friend's castoffs, I noted that they did indeed have a couple years on them. A bottle of Samuel Adams Boston Lager bears a "best by" date of September 2006. Assuming all of the beers took up residence in my friend's fridge at the same time (and I'm lead to believe they did), and assuming the Sam Adams was not on in years to begin with, that would put these brews at over two years old.

The haul included that Sam, a Carmel Wheat Beer (both of which I've not yet drank), a woefully insipid Bert Grant's Mandarin Hefeweizen, a Heineken with solid floaties and an unpleasant aftertaste (and of course I'm not blaming the beers here – these flaws came as no surprise), and two Guinness Draughts.

As I said, I assumed the age on these beers was two-plus years. Only the Sam has a date. One Guinness (pictured) has a code that appears to read "02L3." Not sure what, if anything, that means.

Now, considering the apparent age of this Guinness and its low alcohol (around 4.2% ABV), I'm a little surprised and pleased to report that it's not too bad. OK, so the bottle and bottle cap wore a little fridge grime. And the malt does seem to thin out some into an oxidized finish (something I'm not terribly sensitive to anyway), but then Guinness is also light-bodied already, creamy nitro-widget notwithstanding. The roast is there but not terribly strong, but the beer still retains a fair amount of bitterness (this being something else that typically wanes noticeably in older beers).

Would I have guessed this Guinness was so old? No, probably not. No doubt the fact that it and its brethren have been languishing in a refrigerator, and not on a store shelf or in a closet, has helped. On the other hand, let's not forget that the Mandarin Hefeweizen and Heinie presumably shared quarters with their Irish friend here.

I'm not about to recommend Guinness Draught as a cellarable beer. Yet, nor will I advocate that an aged sample should live out its final moments getting to know your kitchen sink. Remember, alcohol abuse is a crime in 17 states.

Beer Sales Down in British Pubs

2008-07-30T19:24:00.002-04:00

Not good news.

What, oh what, is the world coming to??

Finally, Science Gets Something Right

2008-07-23T21:48:00.003-04:00

The year is 1955. Gasoline (leaded, thank you) costs 23 cents a gallon. America finally breaks its unholy alliance Satan by adding "In God We Trust" to all U.S. paper currency. Rosa Parks becomes the unwitting inspiration for an Outkast song. James Dean's tragic death draws him comparisons among the highly prescient to the unborn Heath Ledger.

And science is on a roll – Atomic power. Velcro. Legos.

But how about this doozy, from Yale professor Dr. Leon A. Greenberg: Beer cannot get you drunk.

Ah yes, 1955. The good old days of Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, James Dean (until Sept. 30, of course), and good, sound science. Let's go back to those simpler times, please.

This Bud's Pour Vous

2008-07-14T10:03:00.002-04:00

It's a done deal. American brewing giant Anheuser-Busch will be sold to Belgian brewing giant InBev for $52 billion. Ka-ching.

Details here.

The Pokal Pilsner Glass

2008-07-06T18:40:00.006-04:00

Toss the word "pokal" into any Internet search engine and see what comes back. If Google et al. are to be believed, the pokal is little more narrowly defined as a beer glass than is, say, the pint glass. (In the case of the latter, do you mean a tumbler? A nonic? A tulip?)

Beeradvocate offers this: A pokal is typically "tall, slender and tapered" ... "a European Pilsner glass with a stem."

That's descriptive and potentially helpful, but how "slender" is this offering from Kulmbacher? This and other examples (how about this beauty from Sierra Nevada?) suggest that the pokal as a category is a flexible one – accommodating relative diversity in terms of height, roundness, stemmed-ness, and so on.

Let's go ahead and (OK, arbitrarily) take the glass at the right as our standard pokal. You'll note its tall, narrow body, footed design (in this case, no real stem per se, though it does offer a thick, narrowing base), and tapered mouth. On this last count the pokal differs from other Pilsner glasses you may have seen that feature a distinct flare at the top. (We'll discuss those at a future date.)

Certainly, Pilsner and other lighter beers are most logical choices for the pokal. Anything that is not too heavy on flavors or aromas, or color if you're interested in aesthetics, will find the pokal a comfortable fit. The more delicate the better. (But please – to a point. Let us say unequivocally that it's better to drink a Pils from this glass than an O'Doul's.)

The pokal's design is meant to show off a Pilsner's bright color and clarity. (That may sound like an obvious thing to say about a vessel made of glass, but in this case the pokal's elegant look serves to compliment the Pilsner's brilliance, delicate color, fluffy white head, crisp flavor, and so on. In this way, the refined-looking pokal is a proper match for Pils, which had historically been regarded as a beer of tantalizing luxury.) Also, the glass' tapered top should help gather up head and aromas.

Whatever its precise form, the pokal is likely to make just about any beer look good. And who can deny the allure of a well poured Pilsner (tall, blonde, and available), beckoning the prospective drinker from its elegant vessel?

MillerCoors is Up and Running

2008-07-06T01:03:00.003-04:00

MillerCoors, the combined U.S. effort of Molson Coors and SABMiller, has begun operations as of this month.

Here's a press release.

The merger effectively leaves the U.S. with two major brewing behemoths. (The other, of course, being you-know-who.) It's funny – at a time when The Big Boys are seeing their sales drop while imports and craft beers continue to grow, the answer is to consolidate, consolidate, consolidate. (Actually, under that framework, InBev's proposed buyout of A-B is, somehow, both typical and ironic at the same time.)

The big brewers' insistence on More of the Same in the face of shifting consumer preferences is the industry's way of battening the hatches, digging in the heels. Too often the "solutions" these guys come up with – merge distribution channels to increase efficiency and create greater economies of scale; ramp up marketing efforts on behalf of core brands – betray either a tremendous ignorance of the real reasons behind BMC-types' struggles, or an astonishingly dismissive posture toward that reality, or both. Here's what it boils down to: If consumers are increasingly reaching for higher-end, more flavorful, and – saints alive! – pricier brews, the big guys' answer is always (a) find ways to streamline distribution (to what end – improve upon nearly 100 percent market saturation?) and (b) find a way to "reinvigorate" the marketing apparatuses behind brands that already are what they are thanks to years of very effective navigation of the highly competitive world of beer marketing.

And all this will ultimately serve the consumer how? Or respond to changes in the industry (really, changes in consumer tastes) how? Or, in MillerCoors' own words, "build the best portfolio of beer brands in the business" how?

In this last case, I hate to rain on Pete Coors' corporate flimflammery parade with a rational line of thought, but I fail to see how one gigantic macro-lager brewer whose portfolio consists largely of giant macro-lagers merging with another gigantic macro-lager brewer whose portfolio also consists of giant macro-lagers will represent a progression toward "the best portfolio of beer brands in the business." The most homogeneous, perhaps.

Oh, well. Let MillerCoors do what they want. I suspect they'll find this marriage, though unlikely to end in disaster, will not bear the fruit promised by their fanciful mission statement. But it's also unlikely that beer industry executives will stop viewing this kind of move as anything but another in the long line of highly successful maneuvers that have seen 80 percent of U.S. beer market share now consolidated in the hands of two players. It is, on some level – a very significant one, in fact – hard to argue with that kind of success.

It may be tempting to compare this mergers-and-acquisitions game to rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, but to do so would be exaggerating these companies' challenges, and clichéd, besides. A percentage slip here and there might be millions of dollars off the balance sheet, but there's plenty of space between today's stock price and rock bottom. The icebergs are small and negotiable yet.

Belgian Pale Ale

2008-06-30T20:39:00.013-04:00

Ah, Belgium. Or, as it ought to be officially known, beer-geek heaven.

Home to the funky and the sour, the super-strong and slightly less than super-strong, the rare and the revered, the groundbreakers and the often imitated.

So, one can understand how a beer that does not, truth be told, fall in any of the above categories might slip through the cracks and largely miss out on the devotion and the accolades heaped on its brethren.

That is Belgian Pale Ale.

And yet, consider that this is a style that is among the most popular in its homeland – and in Belgium's case, as opposed to the U.S. and most of the rest of the world, a beer's popularity is not, in fact, inversely proportional to whether it's worth a damn.

Still, among American beer connoisseurs, Belgian Pale Ale (henceforth BPA) is an often overlooked style, disregarded in favor of bolder choices like Belgian Strong Dark and Gueuze.

But what makes BPA neglected also makes it great: namely, balance and harmony among ingredients and flavors. It's an average-strength beer, moderately malty, neither over- nor under-hopped, with a touch of restrained esters from Belgian yeast. In places like Antwerpen, especially, BPA serves as the equivalent of the English Bitter – easy-drinking and session-worthy. Antwerpen's De Koninck is the standard bearer for BPA.

So all that was roughly the idea when I set out to craft my own.

Here's what I came up with:

OG 1.049 FG 1.013
AA 73.7% ABV 4.8%
IBU 40 SRM 7

67% German Pilsner
17% German Munich
8% German Vienna
4% Aromatic
2% Biscuit
2% Crystal 20

0.77 oz Perle FWH (14 IBUs)
0.4 oz Yakima Magnum 60 mins (19 IBUs)
0.5 oz East Kent Goldings 20 mins
0.5 oz Saaz flameout
0.5 oz East Kent Goldings flameout

White Labs 400 "Belgian Wit Ale"

This yeast was chosen because I had it in my rotation for Witbiers and White Labs indicated this particular strain is appropriate for the style, besides. This was fermented in the high 60s to low 70s.

It has medium esters early on before sliding into a moderately dry and bitter finish. There's a little spice on the finish, as well, no doubt from the Witbier yeast. The nose is subtle on all fronts – some hops maybe and a little fruitiness, but not too much of anything sticks out.

I intentionally overshot the style guidelines on IBUs because, well, I was looking more for a reasonably hoppy Belgian beer and less so for a spot-on BJCP-approved specimen. Still, it's reasonably restrained for hophead standards.

This beer drinks easily and is a nice change of pace from the more steroidal Belgians we might normally reach for on the one hand, and the citrusy hop showcases we often find in Pale Ale-type beers (if you're drinking American and not English, of course) on the other.

Restraint and balance have their place, and they demonstrate their virtue in a lovely style like Belgian Pale Ale.

But one can't help but be enticed – how about a nice, outrageous Belgian IPA? ...

Beer in Spain, Part Dos

2008-06-26T19:22:00.015-04:00

Where the pickings are slim for on-premise beer oases, one can suspect the same, or worse, will be true on the retail end. That is the case in Barcelona, where “beer bars” (in this case, Belgian beer bars) can be counted on one hand, and quality beer shops, perhaps, on one finger.

La Cerveteca occupies an inconspicuous corner property on an inconspicuous side street not far from Barcelona’s harbor and La Rambla, the city’s main pedestrian drag and, as it happens, floral bazaar.

The shop itself also doubles as a bar and is laid out accordingly. Barrels in the front accommodate standing drinkers, while in the back there’s a cozy den complete with a bookshelf full of beery reads. Also intriguing is the glimpse into an unfinished cellar, the mouth of which sits beneath a case housing an impressive collection of glassware.

Of course, La Cerveteca (reviews here and here) features Spanish beers, but these are – thank heavens! – not named Damm or Mahou; still, the owner says most of them are equally worthless. One brand, however, makes the grade: Companiya Cervesera del Montseny, from a town called Sant Miquel de Baleynà. They brew a hoppy pale ale called +Lupulus that's pretty decent – it may or may not, subjectively speaking, be of especially high quality, but for the hop-starved European traveler, it’s like heaven. The dark ale +Negra also scores points on flavor and general European unconventionality.

Germany is represented at La Cerveteca as well. Best of the bunch would probably be Schlenkerla, the famous smoked-beer brewers from Bamburg.

Belgium claims most of the store’s shelf space. Secular brews like Kwak and Duvel are on hand, plus a good showing of trappists (but of course, no Westvleteren). But the real treat would have to be Cantillon, represented here by a number of the brewery’s offerings. Given this beer’s limited production and availability, it’s not entirely unsurprising to find the stuff at this little shop in Barcelona. Though, whatever troubles were undertaken in bringing Cantillon to this spot are reflected in the prices.

But if one isn’t expecting to find Cantillon in this little Barcelona shop, the selection of American beers might be more surprising. Anchor and Flying Dog have surfaced elsewhere in Europe before (see Amsterdam’s De Bierkoning), but coming across Left Hand and Great Divide was a first for this traveler.

Among the U.S. brews for sale: Anchor’s Old Foghorn; Flying Dog Snake Dog IPA and Gonzo Imperial Porter; Left Hand Guju Ginger and Milk Stout; and Great Divide Titan IPA and Yeti Imperial Stout. In a state of delirious hop deprivation, it’s tempting to reach for an expensive bottle of American IPA to ward off those serious withdrawal symptoms. But that temptation should be avoided, if possible.

You know, when in Rome and all that.

On Beer in Spain

2008-06-19T12:22:00.011-04:00

The interesting thing about Europe is, when it comes to beer, it can be pretty much hit or miss. The continent is, after all, where most of the world's great beer styles were conceived, and accordingly, Europe is home to some of the oldest, most well developed, and most appreciative beer cultures there are. Consider the contributions made by places like Belgium, Germany, Czech Republic, and England to the global beer scene, and to the diverse array of finely crafted brews to which that culture is dedicated. Oh, and the likes of Ireland, Scotland, and Austria are no slouches either in the beer department.

But while significant pockets of Beervana do indeed beckon the Europe-bound beer traveler, there is, unfortunately, as much — OK, more — European geography where beer remains mired in mediocrity, woefully unglorified, and eons, it would seem, from attaining the status it enjoys elsewhere on the continent.

In these places, major brewing consortia along with perhaps one or two large regional or national breweries dominate the scene. The offerings are typically as limited as they are homogeneous: standard macro-lagers, as few as one to a bar, with names like Heineken or Amstel. Or, if we're being "local," it might be Kronenbourg or Damm or whatever the national beer of country X happens to be.

There is some good news. Many mass-produced European lagers are in fact more flavorful and enjoyable than their American counterparts. Doubtless this is accomplished by not overwhelming the beer with adjuncts (corn or rice, often) as Budweiser and Miller do. I am no student of the history of European consumerism, but I would suspect it's true that while the U.S. was being hit with the wave of Wonder-Bread-and-instant-coffee homogeneity that started sweeping through just after the second half of the 20th century, and also coincided with the rise of the macro-lagers that still dominate America today, Europeans' tastes for local, artisanal, and quality products had largely remained intact.

But still, absent a great tradition of flavorful beers in the first place, what we find available today still largely caters to the tastes of the masses, which in places like Spain invariably means light, easy on the palate, and drinkable.

And so it was that we, shortly after our rickety old train had crossed the frontier between France and Spain, found some suds in the dining car to which the above description neatly applies. Mahou Cinco Estrellas was its name, a standard lager brewed in Madrid by Grupo Mahou-San Miguel, which is not to be confused with the San Miguel brewed in the Philippines by an entirely different company. Maybe the long train ride was getting to me, but this Mahou stuff was not terrible. Not great, but not terrible. I'd certainly take it over a Bud Light.

Oh but wait — let's not get too carried away lionizing European megabrews. The aforementioned S.A. Damm brewery of Barcelona, Spain, makes a product called Estrella Damm. It is exceedingly common in Barcelona and the capital, Madrid (Mahou Cinco Estrellas isn't too unheard of, either). But in this case, Estrella Damm might as well be Miller Lite. Flavorless by light lager standards, it is even more so by European standards. All the more pity that any given Spanish bar is ulikely offer much else to fall back on.

That is why the serious beer traveler will not risk visiting just any Spanish bar. As with other European towns (Paris, Amsterdam) that lack their own serious beer culture, the bigger Spanish burgs like Barcelona, Madrid, and Zaragoza will have a few hidden jewels for the devotee willing to do a little advance research. Also, as with other European cities in this category, the beer oases in question will just about always take the form of an Irish pub or a Belgian beer joint. This stands to reason — the pub is a universally known paradigm of beer-drinkery, and Belgian beers are known through the world (at least among those who care) as being among the finest.

Irish pubs will tend to abound more so than Belgian bars, as you might expect. And, also predictably, you're apt to find Guinness in just about any such pub or perhaps Murphy's Red as your local-swill alternative. Hey, something is better than nothing.

Seek, therefore, the Belgians. Barcelona has a couple — Belchica has a handful of taps plus a wide array of bottles, including even a case of Westvleteren that, though full, is sadly for display purposes only — as does Madrid. In Zaragoza, one of the town's most impressive (perhaps the most impressive; I did not have time to scout the competition) Belgian beer bars is to be found, albeit temporarily, at the World Expo 2008. You see, countries from around the world create their own exhibits for the expo, and Belgium's features an impressive bar that offers some of that country's finer brews (including a few Trappists and the wonderful yet all-too-elusive Poperings Hommel Bier) among an impressive draft and bottle list. The expo ends in mid-September, but luckily Belgium won't be taking all the Belgian beers out of Zaragoza with them — this as evidenced by the handy Belgian beer pubcrawl guide the Belgians created for the expo. According to the pamphlet (again, time did not permit personal inspections), there are roughly 20 spots in town that serve at least one Belgian beer. As a further reassurance, two of said bars are named "Beerland" and "The Temple of Beer." Not too shabby, Zaragoza.

More musings on Spanish beer to come...

Brand X Gets an A

2008-06-11T06:45:00.009-04:00

It makes sense for things like aspirin, toilet paper, and shampoo.

But buying generic, store-brand beer?

Don't laugh – here in the Luberon Valley in Provence, France, that's not such a bad idea. At least not in the opinion of this thirsty traveler.

Super U is the big local grocery store serving small area towns like Cadenet, Lourmarin, Puyvert. As with U.S. markets, the U sells its own in-house line of products ranging from pistachios to nail polish remover. Yet unlike any American grocery store I've been to with the (best I can recall) lone exception of Whole Foods, Super U also carries a house-brand beer. And unlike Whole Foods' Lamar St. line of brews, the Super U stuff actually has the store's logo on it.

Light, crisp, and refreshing, Blonde Beer (that's its name, you see) is a perfectly quaffable light lager in the continental tradition (that is, no adjuncts – unlike just about any American lawnmower swill – if I'm not misinferring from the label). Hovering in the middle of 4 percent ABV, and with a pleasing flavor to boot, this beer is almost too easy to drink. I say "almost" because drinkability is nothing to complain about.

Oh, and at around five euro for a 24 pack of 25-cl bottles, it's a bargain. For those scoring at home, that's the equivalent of almost 17 12-ounce servings for somewhere in the $7-8 range. And consider that flavor is usually the very first to be sacrificed when dealing with such price points stateside.

Beer: truly the ultimate affordable-luxury item.

View from a Hilltop

2008-06-08T13:14:00.008-04:00

Life sure can be tough sometimes.

Take right now, for instance. Here I am perched on a mountain in Cadenet, France (in Provence), having to put up with an absurdly lovely view of the Luberon valley below and Cézanne's Mont St. Victoire in the distance.

Oh, the humanity.

To deal with this agony, I've resorted to sipping on nice, refreshing Witbiers on the back patio of our private villa. In such trying times, one does what one can.

Here's a watercolor to memorialize the experience. Below is the real version.

See what I have to put up with?

High Time They Leave the Little Guy Alone

2008-05-31T16:40:00.009-04:00

A brewer in tiny Weed, Calif., is facing trouble from Federal regulators who object to the pot-inspired pun on his bottle caps.

"Try Legal Weed," encourage the brews from Mt. Shasta Brewing Co.

But the g-men have told Mt. Shasta owner Vaune Dillmann the drug reference and "false and misleading" nature of the message have to go, lest he face steep consequences.

Puh-leaze.

OK, I know all about alcohol and special regulations and police powers and all that, but has anyone bothered to find out what the Federal Trade Commission has to say? They're the ones who have set well-defined standards for what constitutes misleading product promotion.

The Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau claims consumers will be duped into thinking the beer actually has real ganja in it. First off, fat chance. I'd venture so far as to say 99.99 percent of Americans know pot is illegal. Thus, "legal weed" means nothing. And surely, as would suppose any right-thinking person (that is, not someone employed by the ATTTB), a sixer sitting right out in the open on a store shelf couldn't possibly have real, honest-to-god dope in it.

But fine, let's suppose someone actually sees this beer and thinks an illicit trip down mary jane lane is only a few sips away. Why should the ATTTB or anyone else care if folks are mislead into buying what they had every reason to believe to be an illegal substance, bottle caps notwithstanding? If I peddled oregano on promise of it being whacky tobbaccy, would I have consumer advocates and the FTC to answer to?

Many of the townsfolk and local politicians have voiced their support of Dillmann. Here's hoping those overzealous bureaucrats come the f around.

And I Bet He Was Given a Lecture on the Dangers of Handling Alcohol

2008-05-30T16:24:00.000-04:00

Eighth-grader goes to archeology site in San Antonio, sees old recently discovered bottle, posits it to contain 100-year-old beer. Scientists say they plan to analyze the contents soon to test the kid's theory.

The Best Beer Names

2008-05-25T17:30:00.005-04:00

Tampa Bay Times columnist Joey Redner has come up with his list of the top ten beer names ever. Redner's selections typify what he calls, with admiration, "the working-class ethic of the craft beer community."

Here's what Redner came up with:
10. Unibroue La Fin Du Monde
9. Harviestoun Old Engine Oil
8. Sweetwater Happy Ending
7. Ridgeway Santa's Butt
6. Buffalo Bill's Alimony Ale
5. Dogfish Head Golden Shower
4. Mikkeller Beer Geek Breakfast Pooh Coffee
3. McQuire's I'll Have What The Gentleman On The Floor Is Having Barley Wine
2. Avery Collaboration Not Litigation
1. Wasatch Polygamy Porter

Good selections, all. Here are some more finely named brews that didn't make the list:

Stone Arrogant Bastard Ale (gotta love a beer whose label outright insults consumers)
Stone Ruination IPA (it seeks to ruin your palate with its incredible bitterness)
Victory Old Horizontal Barleywine (à la #3, above)
Port Old Viscosity (see #9)
Mort Subite lambics (translation: Sudden Death)
Delirium Tremens (from the Truth in Advertising department)
Hoptown DUIPA (see above)
Weyerbacher Blithering Idiot Barleywine (see above, again)
Coniston Old Man Ale
Spaten Optimator (not funny, just a cool name)
Theakston Old Peculier
Thirsty Dog Old Leghumper
Terrapin Wake-n-Bake Coffee Oatmeal Imperial Stout
Terrapin Substance Abuse (see a pattern here?)
Sweetwater 420, Donkey Punch, Dubbel D's, Hummer (irreverence runs high with these folks, it would seem)
Magic Hat Thumbsucker
Rogue Yellow Snow Ale (see #5; what's with brewers and piss?)
Nodding Head Monkey Knife Fight
Crannog Back Hand of God Stout
Orkney SkullSplitter (would that refer to the buzz or the hangover, or both?)
Broughton Old Jock (here meaning a Scotsman, not a used athletic supporter)
Duvel (inspiration for a whole host of imitators: Satan, Lucifer, Bezelbuth)
Scotch Silly (from Belgium; probably only funny to us)
Moretti Sans Souci (French for "Without a Care")
Giraf Classic, Strong, and Gold (created to honor the passing of a local zoo specimen)
Hair of the Dog Brewing Co.
Climax Brewing Co. (interestingly, not brewed in Intercourse, Penn.)
Termalni Desert (screw cake and pie)
And you gotta love Schmaltz Brewing Co., makers of the He'Brew line of Semitic ales: Messiah Bold, Genesis Ale, Jewbelation, Rejewvenator, Bittersweet Lenny's R.I.P.A. (named for the late Lenny Bruce)

This list is far from comprehensive. Some of the above entries were noted by RealBeer.com.

Massive Deal Brewing?

2008-05-24T14:49:00.005-04:00

Two of the world's biggest beer companies could be joining forces.

Belgium's InBev is considering making an offer to acquire U.S.-based Anheuser-Busch, The Wall Street Journal says. The price tag could be in the neighborhood of $46 billion.

It's certainly no done deal, not least of all because the Busch family are considered reluctant to sell.

While ordinarily consolidation, which has continued to sweep through the brewing industry of late, can often mean wider availability of certain brands and better prices for consumers, in this case it's hard to figure the ultimate impact of an InBev-Anheuser-Busch deal as far as Budweiser fans are concerned. A-B products are already the most widely distributed in the nation and, thanks to the company's numerous regional breweries and enormous economies of scale, Budweiser et al. are among a frugal drinker's best friends.

Yet on the other side of the equation, an alliance could strengthen the availability of imported InBev brands like Hoegaarden and Leffe.

It is often, after all, the tenacity of distributors that has as much to do with the breadth of a given market's offerings as does consumer demand. By plugging all of its products into the vast -- and aggressive -- Anheuser-Busch distribution network, some of InBev's higher-quality offerings could find new audiences. And that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Music to Anyone's Ears

2008-05-20T15:58:00.004-04:00

An Australian orchestra plays the Victoria Bitter "theme song" using nothing but beer bottles.

Enjoy.

Craft Beer on NPR

2008-05-17T13:58:00.003-04:00

Beer, brewing, and homebrew were the topics of yesterday's Science Friday on NPR.

Check it out.

Beer Snobs Get Mainstream Treatment

2008-05-16T12:24:00.006-04:00

Apparently, the way many beer connoisseurs feel about cheap macro-lagers is now well documented enough to merit use as an analogy in political reporting. And in the lead paragraph, no less.

Yesterday, Time magazine's Peter Beinart had this to say in his piece "What Obama Owes the Clintons":

"Obama's backers generally feel about the Clintons the way ... beer aficionados feel about Bud Light: that by compromising core principles, they watered down the brand."

How about that?

Of course, whether Beinart's mention of beer enthusiasts was meant to highlight our discernment or our reflexive and holier-than-thou posture toward "the other side" -- or neither -- is anyone's guess.

Can You Dig It?

2008-05-15T23:59:00.000-04:00

The humble beer can continues to receive a classy makeover. Specifically in the form of labels for high-end beers.

New Belgium Brewing Company of Fort Collins, Colo., has become the latest -- and largest -- entry on a growing roster of craft brewers who have turned to the until-recently pedestrian aluminum can as a packaging option.

While traditionally, cans have not exactly been associated with high-brow, full-flavored beer, things began to trend in the other direction when Colorado's Oskar Blues in 2002 eschewed the bottle as its container of choice. Several other U.S. and Canadian microbreweries have since followed suit.

Proponents say cans are lighter, easier to transport, easier to recycle, and can go places bottles can't -- beaches, rivers, parks, for example.

As more and more beer drinkers warm to the idea of craft brew in a can, it may well be that side-by-side price comparisons of bottled vs. canned versions of the same beer (in this case, New Belgium's Fat Tire, for example) could make any buying decision less about bias and/or practicality and more about economics.

The (Other) Bass Glass

2008-05-11T15:51:00.007-04:00

I'm not certain that this glass constitutes a particular style of glassware, but it is unique. As one might expect, Bass has slapped its logo on no small number of drinking vessels over the years. (See, for example, the tulip pint.) So it is hard – impossible, perhaps, to say what constitutes the "official" Bass glass.

Still, this glass is the only one I've seen that incorporates Bass' famous triangle logo -- the oldest registered trademark in Britain – in the construction of the glass itself. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's the only glass I've seen to incorporate any beer's trademark in the physical design. It may be a little hard to tell from the picture, but the base of this glass is a thick, elegantly contoured triangle.

The rest of the glass is, admittedly, a little on the boring side. It is tall and slender, pleasant to look at and adorned prominently with the Bass name and logo, but structurally the glass doesn't offer much to the drinking experience. The walls are straight and flare outward at the top. Not the best arrangement for head and aromas.

Ah well. Any Bass drinker probably wouldn't mind giving this glass a go at least once. It's not every day you can drink out of one of the world's oldest trademarks.

The Sam Adams Glass

2008-05-10T14:07:00.008-04:00

This thingy was released with great fanfare and marketing hoopla (true to form for Jim Koch's Boston Beer Company) early in 2007. It is, the company seemed to want to say, the world's most perfect beer glass.

Well, perhaps I'm paraphrasing a bit. The Massachusetts- based brew company heralded the Sam Adams glass as the perfect container to drink Samuel Adams Boston Lager out of. I'll leave it to the reader to determine whether Jim Koch's Boston Lager advocacy means the glass for the world's most perfect beer is by extension the world's most perfect glass.

At any rate, this funky vessel -- it kind of looks like a lamp or exotic vase, doesn't it? -- is said to be more about function than fashion. Those recoiling from the sight of the glass might find that heartening. Beer-friendly features include a wide bowl for capturing aromas, an outturned lip for proper beer delivery, and etching on the bottom for a steady stream of carbonation. I won't get too deep into the details -- you can get all the skinny here.

While I admit I've yet to drink a Boston Lager from this glass, I will say this here cup provides a nice drinking experience. The features do in fact work more or less as advertised, and in keeping with its odd appearance, the glass feels pretty unique in the hand.

If the Boston Beer Company is to be believed, the Sam Adams glass is best suited for Boston Lager. But plenty of other styles will do. Just about any of your average-gravity beers, from amber lagers to American ales, on up to IPAs, Porters, and Stouts should drink fine from this glass. Just don't tell Jim Koch.

Eternally a Fan

2008-05-08T21:36:00.003-04:00

Oh, the temptation to overdo it with death puns is almost too much to resist. You might say it's killing me.

A Chicago man has special ordered a coffin decorated to look like a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, his favorite beer.

It's nice to see someone bring a little levity to what is normally a grave subject.

Ka-zing!

Beer and Wood

2008-05-02T11:18:00.004-04:00

Here's a brief writeup on wood-aged beers in The Washington Post. The massive Dogfish Head aging tank has me intrigued...

Brothers, Take Arms

2008-04-26T14:55:00.003-04:00

How do you feel about sticking it to The Man? About artful wordsmiths who wield the brute force of rationality and wit to pull back the curtain on nanny-state heavy handedness?

Like those things?

Then head on over to "Why The PLCB Should Be Abolished," the fine new blog from Pennsylvania drinks writer Lew Bryson. The target of Bryson's scorn is the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board, the state-run wine and liquor monopoly that Bryson, in no uncertain terms, wishes to see go the way of the dodo.

You don't have to be a Keystone Stater to appreciate Bryson's compelling arguments and irreverence. The blog, though it only recently launched, is imbued with a sense of urgent frustration at a system that Bryson has for decades failed to see purpose in.

I've often considered myself something of an armchair champion of sensible alcohol policy. The State newspaper even saw fit to indulge my ramblings on the subject not long ago. Perhaps I'm spoiled, having lived in New Orleans for several years -- I've yet to encounter a more liberal (or liberated) approach to booze regulations. And, in fairness to the Crescent City and this here cause, I believe NOLA's reputation as a pitiable town of lushes has its roots elsewhere.

Here's hoping Pennsylvanians take to Bryson's call to arms against their antiquated system and father-knows-best posture on booze. I may not have a dog in this fight, but I wish them all the best still.

The New Belgium Glass

2008-04-21T18:46:00.011-04:00

If I had to name, right now, the most versatile beer glass I've encountered, it would have to be this reliable friend of mine from New Belgium Brewing Company.

Designed by Germany's Rastal (check out this page for more of their designs), this 0.4-liter bundle of joy enjoys a regular place in this blogger's rotation, because it's just so dang flexible.

Its height and width are in perfect proportions -- not as squat as a snifter, not as lean as the tulip pint, or the Dogfish Head glass, say. The bottom of the bowl continues almost seamlessly into a lovely stem atop a wide, flat base.

By virtue of its design, this glass gathers aromas and head efficiently inside the mouth, and its volume is ample enough to allow a strong swirl, not to mention a generous serving.

As you can see, the New Belgium Glass bears the bicycle logo of Fat Tire, New Belgium's flagship beer and biggest seller. That particular beer, an amber ale with a toasty, biscuity nose, wouldn't be a bad choice for this glass, of course, but she can handle beers that pack a little more wallop in the aroma (and flavor) department.

Certainly, plenty of beer styles have their own unique glasses, many of which look little like the New Belgium glass. Still, few beers would be ill-served by this vessel's design. As an everyday, go-to glass, I like it for Pale Ales, IPAs, Porters... really, the list can be quite comprehensive. This glass can even stand up to some higher-gravity styles. How about Bock or Saison? Double IPA? The stronger you get, of course, the more you may want to reach for something along the lines of a snifter, but lacking that ... well, you almost can't go wrong with this here beauty.

Update: Perhaps taking a cue from the Boston Beer Co., who not long ago began touting the drinking benefits of their new Sam Adams glass, New Belgium is now making a case for their own fine glass as the beer-lover's best friend. You'll note the similarities between BBC's and NB's respective arguments for their glasses. On top of the attributes I've already gushed about above, New Belgium's case appears bolstered by improvements they've made to the glass: a beaded rim, interior etching for carbonation release, and sturdier construction (this is good news – I've broken one of the old ones, myself). I have to give props to Colorado beer blogger Chipper Dave at Fermentedly Challenged, where I caught a whiff of this item.

Finally, Some Good News

2008-04-13T19:42:00.002-04:00

Growers in the Pacific Northwest have responded to The Great Hop Shortage by pulling out non-hop acreage to expand hop production.

The result could be as many as 8,000 new acres in the Northwest, a 25 percent increase over last year.

Hop plants typically take 2-3 years to reach meaningful levels of productivity, so it's likely brewers will continue to grapple with high prices and low supplies for a couple more years.

On the Rights of Boozers, V. 2.0

2008-04-11T10:07:00.004-04:00

Last week, I discussed the need to continue the progress begun by Columbians in voting to allow Sunday beer and wine sales.

Here's a slightly -- slightly -- tweaked version of that dictum, which ran as an editorial in today's The State newspaper:

http://www.thestate.com/editorial-columns/story/372504.html

Allow Me to Vent

2008-04-05T18:03:00.004-04:00

You may have seen the new Coors Light TV commercial featuring two guys who get together and “vent” (translation: “drink beer”) all day. The release of this ad has coincided with the arrival of Coors’ latest gimmick ... er, innovation.

Coors Light cans now come with a wider mouth and an indentation (“vent”) near the opening. The result, claims Coors, is a “smooth, refreshing pour.” That, and a secret, guys-only codeword that lets you and your pals booze the day away while your gullible girlfriends are none the wiser.

The Vent is only the latest in a long series of Coors Light marketing absurdities. This is the company that brought us such non sequiturs as “frost-brewed” (there is no such thing; all beer is brewed by boiling) and “the coldest-tasting beer on the planet” (what does “cold” taste like? Coors may be surprised to learn this is not in fact a flavor – infuse your beer with spearmint and get back to us). This time around, The Vent leaves us to wonder, what exactly is a “refreshing pour”? Perhaps a non-refreshing pour would be one that, say, deposits beer at your feet rather than down your throat.

In recent years, it hasn’t been hard to figure out what Coors Light’s marketing strategy is (“Our Beer is Cold”); it’s just been a little difficult to figure out why the Coors marketing gurus have pegged their company’s fortunes on convincing us Coors Light somehow benefits more than any other brew from that marvel known as refrigeration. And given what we know about the relationship between low temperatures and flavor suppression, what should it tell us that the folks at Coors urge us to drink their beer as close to freezing as possible? Actually, make that below freezing – a special system called “Coors Light Super Cold Draft” serves up pints with a layer of ice crystals on top. They were going to call it the “Coors Light Snow Cone Machine,” but parents groups complained.

But now, The Vent represents a wrinkle in Coors Light’s marketing scheme, for it does not, alas, have any effect upon the beer’s temperature. So what gives? It seems Coors has identified a second component to refresh-ability: sending beer down your gullet with maximum expediency.

This move could backfire. Consumers may begin to wonder whether Coors is starting to waver from their previously hard-line commitment to all things cold. They risk muddying those pristine, so-deliciously-icy Rocky Mountain waters.

Yet as laughable as it is, the most amazing thing about The Vent is that it’s probably the most meaningful of Coors’ recent marketing contrivances. There is validity to the notion of generating a smoother pour by letting air in to displace those draining suds. Ever heard of shotgunning? Still, whether or not the overeager beer drinker can seal off and thus neutralize The Vent by applying just a little too much pressure with those thirsty lips remains to be seen.

But here’s a less novel suggestion for anyone who wants to let air in while drinking Coors Light, and one that wouldn’t require untold dollars in R&D and marketing: Try a damn glass.

Victory for Beer -- But What's the Rest of the Story?

2008-04-03T17:24:00.014-04:00

On Tuesday, residents of Columbia, S.C., voted to allow Sunday beer and wine retail sales -- a small but significant step away from the antiquated and unabashedly religiously inspired "blue laws" that still hold sway over many aspects of life in South Carolina and elsewhere.

Columbians (or, I should say, the small percentage who showed up to the polls) approved the ballot initiative by a roughly 7-3 margin -- surprisingly comfortable for a state whose legislators have expressed recent interest in outlawing lap dances and creating an extra tax on nudie magazines, the latter ostensibly to help offset the cost of supervising the sex offenders those publications supposedly create.

But while the vote means city residents will no longer have to plan ahead to avoid NFL-gameday or backyard-barbecue droughts, it also needs to place a focus on the larger issue of how South Carolina has chosen to regulate the sale and consumption of alcohol within its borders.

First, we should note that in the wake of Tuesday's vote, seven-day-a-week liquor sales remain strictly off limits. This shouldn't necessarily surprise us. South Carolina has a history of treating hard alcohol differently -- booze retailers have to erect physical walls between their liquor and beer/wine departments, and it was only in 2005 that voters kicked aside the state's odd law requiring all on-premise liquor to be poured from airplane-style mini bottles. Yet you don't have to be a chemist (or maybe you do...) to realize that ethanol is ethanol, and the notion that a person can somehow get more sodden off two shots of liquor than he can from a case of Bud Light is, well, all wet.

Given that the heavy hand of South Carolina government enjoys keeping booze firmly in its grasp, how did Columbians even get the opportunity to have their say in the first place? What we find is, at the end of the day, morality only holds partial sway in the Palmetto State. It's that other "M" word that really reigns supreme: money.

It so happens tourism is among South Carolina's major industries. The state is mighty proud of its popular beach destinations, which attract countless visitors and dollars from all along the eastern seaboard. And it also happens that, over the years, those out-of-towners have had some beefs with coastal bar, restaurant and hotel owners who found themselves having to break the news of South Carolina's unfortunate alcohol laws.

The state was in an uncomfortable position: how to honor our Puritanical moral piety while also indulging those thirsty beachgoers? The solution (if you want to call it that) was to allow -- nay, require -- local jurisdictions to hold elections in order to overturn Sunday sales restrictions. Not surprisingly, such votes were held years ago up and down the South Carolina coast well before Columbia got the idea.

Coastal counties also dominate the list of those that have voted to allow Sunday sales of alcohol in bars and restaurants. Lexington and Richland (home of Columbia) are the only two landlocked counties that have done the same. In total, only six of South Carolina's 46 counties have greenlighted on-premise drinking seven days a week. Meanwhile, 15 municipalities are on board, even if their county is not (as is the case with Greenville).

Questions fly into mind rapidly and without obvious, consoling answers: What is the grave public risk stemming from Sunday retail sales that exists in Florence County but not in Charleston County? Why have fewer towns (11) allowed off-premise sales than on-premise sales? Has that anything to do with the larger fees for on-premise Sunday permits versus retail permits? How is it a better idea to let Lexington County residents drive to a bar on Sunday and get loaded than it is for them to drive to the store and get sauced in the privacy -- and safety -- of their own home?

For the state lawmakers who engineered such let-the-locals-decide "compromises," it amounts to simple political cowardice in letting one backward-thinking county or town restrict the activities of its inhabitants when citizens elsewhere have rejected such dogmatic governance as being morally flimsy and fiscally unwise. If anything, should not citizens of each and every jurisdiction be required to jump through endless bureaucratic hoops in order to impose arbitrary and unreasonable restrictions on behaviors and liberties, not in order to remove them?

The march of progress can sometimes feel like more of a crawl, especially where traditions of moral high-handedness have deep roots in culture and government. Let's hope Columbians and all South Carolinians continue to demand, with increasing fervor, that their leaders bring the state's alcohol policies into the 21st century. A win in this fight would be nothing less than a victory for common sense itself.

How to Increase Voter Turnout

2008-03-27T18:32:00.004-04:00

Columbia, S.C., will hold a ballot referendum Tuesday to let voters decide whether to allow beer and wine sales on Sundays. (Liquor will remain off-limits on the Sabbath.) Details here.

Observers are wondering what, if any, impact this will have on the "normal" votes being held that day -- a couple city council seats are up for grabs, for example.

In the midst of a presidential election season that has dragged on and on, it's refreshing to have a more ... ah ... "refreshing" candidate to vote for this time around.

Vote beer!

The Foam Rangers Glass

2008-03-26T00:33:00.007-04:00

Now here's a rather odd-shaped glass. Then again, maybe that's fitting, considering the organization whose name this vessel bears.

The Foam Rangers are the oldest homebrew club in the Houston area. They host the annual Dixie Cup, one of the country's largest homebrew competitions. Their ranks include some of the best and most decorated brewers in the U.S. Many of them are certifiably bonkers.

I say that with all the love in the world.

The irony behind this official Foam Rangers tasting glass is that rarely do the Foamies limit themselves to such modest portions. All it means is the glass has to get refilled that much more often.

Foam Ranger meetings are organized around a specific beer style or styles. Massive numbers of commercial and homebrewed examples are gathered, and these beers are then "sampled" into the wee hours. The FR tasting glass gets a good workout these nights.

I'm sort of at a loss to explain the glass' shape from a functional standpoint. The thick base gives it some measure of ruggedness, but given that the slight taper at the very top hardly makes up for the appreciable flaring of the glass up until that point, I'm not sure what -- if any -- enhancement to the drinking experience is being accomplished here.

No matter. This is a funky little glass for a funky club. If you ever find yourself in Houston, give the Rangers and their "sampling" glass a try.

As if You Needed Another Excuse

2008-03-23T18:10:00.002-04:00

More beer, fewer heart attacks.

Eight healthy reasons to drink beer.

For You Texans

2008-03-22T17:22:00.003-04:00

Details here on the acquisition of craft- and import-beer distributor CR Goodman by Dallas-based (and previously Anheuser-Busch exclusive partner) Ben E. Keith Co.

New beers to be added to the portfolio: Minnesota's Summit, Oregon's Deschutes, and New York's Brooklyn and Saranac.

The Andygator Glass

2008-03-21T14:22:00.009-04:00

We're now in the realm of what I consider to be -- if they're not in actuality -- tasting glasses. Of course, their unifying trait is small size. It can be frustrating, after all, when you're trying to sample an ounce or two out of a giant mug, and most of the beer is lost coating the inside of the glass before it ever reaches your lips.

Some tasting glasses weren't necessarily intended to serve this purpose, but nevertheless do so because of their diminutive status -- the Singha glass fits this profile. So too does the Andygator glass. Clearly, this vessel was built to house the Abita Brewing Company's high-octane Andygator. Yet, inasmuch as beers of such fortitude (this one's purported to run in the 10-10.5 percent range) are often taken in small servings, so too are their dedicated glasses correspondingly miniaturized. In the case of this fella, about 9.5 ounces will come right up to the rim.

The Andygator glass gets points first off for being stemware. This allows the drinker to hold the glass by its base or stem and not the bowl -- thus keeping warmth from the hand from prematurely heating up the precious liquid within. In addition, the glass' tapered curvature contains head and aromas for an enhanced drinking experience.

Plus, that mean ol' gator just looks cool.

As with all tasting glasses, the Andygator glass' best friend tends to be the beer tap. Unlike bottles, which essentially require a glass of corresponding capacity for optimal use and presentation, kegged beer knows no limitations on serving size. Alternately, tasting glasses are quite at home at parties or gatherings where a bottle is being shared among friends. A squirt of beer here, a smidgen there -- this is the time for the tasting glass to emerge.

Here's some interesting background on Abita's Andygator:

Years ago, Abita held a competition for homebrewers in which the winner would have his or her beer brewed by the pros. A member of the homebrew club in New Orleans (it may have
been known as the Crescent City Homebrewers at the time -- I'm hazy on the details) won the competition and handed his recipe over to Abita.

Something went wrong and the lager yeast attenuated well beyond what it was supposed to. The result was a very dry, very strong pale lager that came out somewhere between Maibock, Malt Liquor and rocket fuel. It's sometimes (erroneously) referred to as a Barleywine, though Andygator shares little beyond sheer strength with brews in that category.

So why the name "Andygator"? Simple: the winning brewer goes by the similar, though slightly less fierce, moniker "Andy Thomas." He's currently a member of Houston's Foam Rangers homebrew club, and he's always happy to tell the story of the birth of Andygator -- and in far better fashion than I just did.