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

The Weissbier Glass

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

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.