Almost Altbier

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

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

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

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

The Session #24 – A Tripel For Two

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

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

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