Stopping Blogging For A Spell

I am not going to be blogging on 40/40 for a spell. I am in the process of writing and editing a book and need to keep my focus. Be assured that I will be back at some point and in the meantime enjoy the posts already in the fridge.  Also, be assured that I will still be drinking great beer in the interim.  That is not something that I will be putting on hold!

Bringing Home the Baconnalia in D.C.

Yes, bringing home the bacon to my mouth was the impetus for a buddy and I making a 24 hour jaunt to a commercially-zoned  Truman Show-like shopping destination in the D.C. Metro area. The National Harbor is a two billion dollar behemoth of retails shops and restaurants south of D.C. See the map below:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/18/AR2009051803201.html?sid=ST2008041902202

Disney is in the town? Figures. Cuz, I am not sure if I can call it a town, for it seems to have no soul. Disney, like the Truman Show, is impeccably imaged.  I only learned of the Disney plans until after I returned home but it made sense. It is small world after all, because if it is going to give the impression of being perfect, it had better be miniature as a cover for its architects’ to project a glimmering and ultimately unreal world. The destination seems crafted to suck as much money out of the tourists’ pockets and purses as it can who are wowed by the bright lights and faux commercial chic. Sorry, give me the grit of Reading Terminal Market in Philly any day.

It is like Vegas without the gambling and sleaze but it still is all mirrors and glass and lacking in substance.  It is an odd and difficult drive to the National Harbor. My buddy, a professional photographer, knows the 95 Beltway roads well and a good thing too…our GPS Systems literally had no maps or directions to the destination, leading further to its mirage vibe. We had come to the locale for the Capital Bacon & Beer Bash with the bacon being various culinary emanations of all things bacon and the beer being shipped in from the microbrewery Heavy Seas.

Heavy Seas came to the event loaded with a vast array of their brews. One wonders how they can brew so many different type of beers like a brewery COSTCO without losing some eye on what main brews are going to be their flagships. To the credit of Heavy Seas, the beer is very good and sometimes even great. My favorite of the evening was the Christmassy Yule Tide, a Belgian Tripel. Tis the season for Belgians. The nights are cold and frightnen, but the beer is so inviting.

It look me a while to find this brew because of all of the other varieties around. Strangely, the only other brewery there was Heinecken, a truly average brew, overpriced, and also lacking any soul. I typically avoid events like this “all you can and eat” expensive affairs because I fight the desire to get my money’s worth without over-indulging. Buffets of beers are not generally a good idea.

Any honest person reading this blog knows that I a always advise moderation and going to a $ 55 Bacconnalian event puts the conviction to the test. I passed due to a very mindful alternation of beer and H2O, with a continuous grazing of bacon infused dishes. It could have been worse, my buddy got rooked for $ 75 since the price was hiked as the event got closer.

The bacon dishes were decidedly below average. Unlike the beer that passed muster with flying colors, the bacon dishes really were less than commendable. I gravitated to the bacon ketchup-sauced chicken wings that were like General Tsaos chicken. A truly amalgamated sino-american dish, pleasing to the American palate of sugar and grease.

Not exactly fine dining but finger licking good…

The vendors were set-up like a food court and the cuisine was food court quality. This dish below was a crazy and gnarled mess of bacon called FOOD OF THE GODS. It made me wonder if there was some dyslexia going on and whether the should have been called FOOD OF THE DOGS?

It came across as a HoJo’s breakfast buffet bacon in terms of taste. I am sorry to be so dismissive but for a high cost event billed as both “Bacon and Beer” the bacon should have been much better. There was another table of bacon that tasted as it it had been drenched in propane, lit on fire, charred, and then served up. With all of the burnt bacon, it tasted as if we were eating petrol-blackened swine.

I dubbed my pal the “King of Cupcakes” due to his voracious consumption of a bacon oil infused chocolate cupcake topped with peanut butter icing. At the end of the night, the proprietor autographed her sign and wrote a salutation to the Cupcake King. He said he  has a sweet tooth…needs to to be the plural “teeth” based on how many he took down.

Speaking of swine, the lowlight of the evening was the sawing (it had been promoted as “slicing”) of a whole pig by the chef where audience members were given 5 lb. huge slabs of pork to take home. That is, all of the pig but the head of the beast which sat on the cutting board for thirty minutes peering out on the throngs of party-goers, back-beated by a deejay and videos, and whose ultimate resting place is still unknown. I sensed that the oinkers’ head could wind up as part of a prank. It was all very Lord of the Flyish. Some lanky black dude upon hearing of the decapitated pig’s head, dropped and pivoted like on the low post in basketball, turned away and uttered, “I don’t need to see that.”

With all of nitrates being eaten, as noted previously, I made quite sure to quaff close to a gallon of water over the evening, to offset dehydration. It did result in me getting up hourly overnight to visit the loo but I woke up at 6:30 in great shape. The night could have gotten imbalanced based on the frat school vibe, abundant beer, oily grub, and a young crowd looking to leave work behind and party. Yet, it was all good fun, albeit greasy. We navigated the choppy waters without capsizing and hotel room was only a couple of blocks away. We stayed at the Residence Inn, a clean and well-run hotel at a half-price rate scored on Priceline. Hoping for a view of the Potomac River, we were chagrined to find our 7th floor hotel room overlooking a nearly vacant parking garage. Pretty sure that was a payback for being a Priceliner…

The National Harbor venture appears to be not living up to expectations because barren parking garages show that the builders of this enterprise envisioned a flowing river of tourists and not a trickling creek of out-of-towners on the eve of the Christmas season, already wise to the scheme and the scam. If I want to go to an overpriced mall, I will just head to King of Prussia. Localities looking to cash in on the tourist dollars had better be too-notch. And, if New York City and the National Mall are about the same distance away, give me the Big Apple rather than some shiny fake apple, all wax and no fruit. Even New York is inflated, but at least it has heart and an attitude.

I guess I was envisioning a more connoisseur type of event and it wound up being part post-college and pre-marriage crowd, and part older folks like us who wanted a tour of fine tour of bacon and beer.

After we departed the event, which concluded ten minutes early on the orders of the portly manager, we headed out into the cool night air. This was the last cache of brews buried as it were on the ocean floor:

It seemed cheeky to call it a night early because the event was billed as 5-9, but it was probably for the best. All of the other beer stations had run dry and a small party of revelers remained at the end on the final stand. The bartender was great…he had a exuberant personality. The staff in general were friendly and welcoming.

After leaving, we wound up at some pretentious Chinese Pan-Asian Fusion joint whose meals were inflated to high society 1% costs, with my buddy and I being hat-wearing occupiers and interlopers. The staff looked at us somewhat askance but seated us because the place was hardly even a quarter full. Hard times. I was quite surprised to find a ten dollar entree of a Korean Soup bowl among the higher-priced fair. It was a seafood and spicy stew. Absolutely delightful and a wonderfully zesty and tasty conclusion to the evening. The restaurant, with a fifty foot Buddha, really won me over in the end. The bowl was beatific and zen-like. A perfect antidote of the the oil-laden bacon dishes.

Mentioning antidotes, when I came home this morning, we left D.C. in a hurry to beat the traffic, I drank a quart of raw greens:

The smell of bacon remained on our clothes on the trip home. All in all a good time. Could have been better, but it was a blast being with a buddy, getting real in a place in need of some reality…

Ommegang Sampler: Christmas Come Early

My my my.  Gaze up this Ommegang Sampler. I scored two of these yesterday at a distributor off the beaten path than sometimes has some great offerings on sale. It being somewhat secluded creates space for people like me in search of gems in them stacks of cases.

I purchased this Sampler for $ 25 apiece. I think they would be awesome Christmas gifts but I am fighting the desire to keep them as mine, mine, mine. And my wife’s (need to add that). This sampler at that price is like getting a Van Gogh at a garage sale as far as I am concerned. And, on top of three liters of beer, a glass. I faced a moral test of sorts as I was waiting in the store for 15 minutes alone when the owner on an early Saturday morning was back in the shop and could not hear my petitions for help because of a delivery truck rumbling. I could have walked out of the store unimpeded with these two packs and otherwise. 15 minutes is a long time for mischief.

Sometimes writing this blog can feel like homework. Even though I only compose one blog a week, I don’t want my writing to suck. Quality before quantity in writing and beer. Rather have one paragraph glass of tasty words than a keg of mediocre verbosity. Diminishing the homework vibe is the obvious fact that I love beer and love writing. But, again, I don’t want to suck.

Ommegang is a great brewery. I love every offering they make. I am particularly interested in the Gnomegang, a collaboration between Ommegang and Brasserie d ‘Achouffe (on the left in the photo). Seriously, a gnome love child from the marriage of two of the best brewers out there of Belgian ancestry.  Crazy.  I know Chimay is often seen as the literal gold standard but I think that rep is no longer to be taken as a given. There are rightful claims to the throne.

Two summers ago my wife and I went to the Belgian Beer Fest at the  Ommegang Brewery near Cooperstown. Man, forget baseball, it was all about the beer. I decided to sample as many of the hundred or so Belgian breweries present. In the nine innings of the event, my wife stayed in the home team’s dugout of Ommegang. I wanted to try the away teams stuff, but in the end of the game had to admit that Ommegang was the big bat at the event.

The price of admission per fan was something like $ 75 dollars so people wanted to get their fill and make the most of the event. A Belgian Beer Buffet of sorts, which then created casualties (due to high ABV) strewn in the fields like after the battle of Antwerp. Fortunately, it was a beautiful summer day and not one of those hot and humid beasts that the East Coast can throw at you like a beanball.  The misery index thus was tempered.  I had some good to great beers that day, and a few that were downright bad. I had a Belgian from a brewery in New York that tasted too fresh…like unpasteurized yogurt or cheesecake. The brewery did not time it right. Belgians, like wine, need to have some time to settle down, to mature, to develop as a complete player.

If you ever find beers past their sell date, don’t be too concerned if they are ales, and be downright happy if they are bottle conditioned Belgians. They will change and improve over time given the proper storage. Lagers, being more temperamental and diva-like, drop off quickly–even when stored in a cool environment, and particular at beer distributors rooms temps. Buyer beware. Some distributors try to sell cases past there due dates. Yet, the big breweries have little good in them that will go bad. Kind of like a BHT laden Twinkie. It doesn’t go bad. Instead, it exists in a chemically-frozen arc of time and space. Bad today, bad tomorrow. Bad a year from today. But, frightening and cryogenically the same.

Go, go, go for Ommegang. Just in time for Christmas.  No ho-hum. Pure Ho-H0-Ho!

Went South with Natty Boh

This blog could sail in a lot of different directions today…I have much brew related fodder from the feedbag in the offing.  I’ve decided to go South in more ways than one.  ”Went South” is a Civil-War laden term apparently, a losing cause idiom. In this case, South means Baltimore and its environs.

Yesterday, we headed down to the B-More area to watch some football with friends. The game was Michigan vs. Iowa and Iowa pulled out an unlikely win. I had no dog in this fight technically, but my wife and one of her closest friends who was the gracious host (with her husband) both went to the University of Michigan for their MBA’s, so I was shouting “Go Blue.”  When undecided, root for the team of those in your life root for…or one can always be antagonistic and do the opposite. Not particularly wise and a losing cause in itself. Even if the team wins.

I had brought a case of Baltimore-origin microbrew to the festivities….a sample pack from Heavy Seas. It was four styles, two stellar, one very good, one so-so. The Loose Cannon is one of the best IPA/heavily hopped beers out there on the oceans. Speaking of water, here is shot of the locale off the back porch of our friends house on a river that is a tributary to the Chesapeake Bay.

Twas a gorgeous Fall Day.  The next brew in the sampler that was excellent was the Saison. It is titled the Red Sky at Night and it was quite delightful.   Both the Loose Cannon and the Red Sky at Night are big guns in the fleet of the Heavy Seas Sunken Sampler pack. The Golden Ale was quite good. It is was a 2010 GABF Medal Winner  ~  2010 Gold Award, World Beer Cup. Sometimes those awards can be a bit esoteric, like winning the Gold in Fencing at the Olympics. Because the style is defined very specifically and only a handful of brews meet the qualifications for entrance, the victory is somewhat qualified by the selectivity of entrance into the competition. Maybe that is what happened here? It is 1:18 am Sunday morning and I don’t feel like being the sleuth. The Classic Lager was OK…not bad at all, but nothing to text home about.

Which brings me to a truly classic lager National Bohemian. A Baltimore legend but one whose spirit is broken. It is a local front for Miller Brewing Company and shipped by Pabst. Every big town in the Northeast had a brewery that only the locals could love. In Pittsburgh, it was/is (sort of, I think it is now brewed at Rolling Rocks old brewery in Latrobe and not PB) Iron City. In Philadelphia, Ortliebs, and Knickerbocker in NYC. The reality is that these local beers were pretty bad. I once had a quart of Knickerbocker and it was so bad it could have killed a rat.

Natty Boh was brought to the party by one of those guys who I will probably meet only once. He knows someone, I know someone. And our ships pass another, never to cross again…or infrequently. We just don’t sail the same waters, especially if he keeps bringing Natty Boh to functions. One NB is OK to drink, to say that you did–like swallowing a gold fish, but I didn’t dare drink a second. One is like a warning shot across the bow…two, and your sinking into the swamp of mediocrity. Frankly, Natty Boh as a brand should be sunk and left to rot on the ocean floor. It was never any good as a beer but at least it was local. Now, it is a rotting and termite infested ship that merely looks local and has a mangy crew of adherents who are holding onto the past that is gone.

Why not grab some Heavy Seas instead? It is so much better and it is actually made in the Baltimore area.  One of the astounding stories about beer in America is that many of the local brands were taken out back and shot during Prohibition. After that slaughtering, the consolidation and contraction occurred on a massive scale where only the biggest whales were left swimming and brands like Yuengling just scavenged around surviving. For the record, Yuengling used to really suck taste-wise as a brand of beers. Fortunately Dick  saved the day by making the beers drinkable. He righted the ship just in time. Then, in the late 1980′s, better-brewed locals like pirates began to sail waters around the big boys…ships that were like a Carnival fleet full of fat tourists and all you can eat buffets. And, now in the 21st century, the sleeker fleets of local microbreweries are starting to tear up the behemoths meal ticket. Heavy Seas is a nemesis geared for the battle and by all appearances, doing a fine job in its campaign in troubling the waters of complacency.

May the Buds, Millers, and Coors go south once a for all. This is no longer a fanciful wish…the Big Boys know that they cannot advertise their way out of this battle with commercials of stupid men and busty girls. The beer is going to have to get better or they are going to sink. Fire away Heavy Seas, fire away.

World’s Best Beers & Jack Daniels

I follow a blog of two brother who write about whiskey and beer. One could argue that whiskey and beer are really quite the same…add water and carbonation and hops and whiskey becomes a beer.  Maybe some sugar too. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that take the water and carbonation and hops out of beer, add some wood barrel flavors, and beer becomes whiskey.

I am not a whiskey aficionado. I texted a friend on Friday night and asked him what he was drinking–hey it was the beginning of the weekend, most  people are enjoying something spirit–and he texted back a name of something that didn’t sound like a beer. I figured out it was a whiskey and then searched it on the web. It was pricey! But, I was drinking a Rogue Ale and that is not exactly federal government free cheese either.

I am fine with sipping Jack Daniels on occasion and want to keep it in this price range. I am pretty certainly that a don’t want to become a whiskey snob on top of already being a beer snob and a coffee snob. It starts to be expensive to be a snob.  The Beer and Whiskey Bros recently posted this document of the World’s Best Beers (I have to give credit where credit is due).

Samuel Adams seems to come up big in the competition which makes me wonder if S.A. has now become such a big sun in the craft beer market that it is starting to keep the better beers of a local variety from shining. But give kudos to SA for still making quality beers at mass quantities.

Beer and Rugby

Friday night after eating entirely too much Italian food at Maggiano’s Little Italy in King of Prussia (nothing little about the place), we looped by the Beer Yard in Wayne to cop a case of Steinlager–a brew from New Zealand. We had plans to convene at a buddy’s abode on Sunday afternoon at 3:00 to watch the World Rugby Finals…France versus New Zealand All Blacks. Steinlager is the corporate sponsor of the All Blacks and we wanted to get into the spirit of the game.  We had high hopes for both the beer and the game.

Of course, we rooted for the All Blacks. Here is what the French coach said about his own players who went out and partied too much after eeking out a win over Wales:

“I told them what I thought of them,” he said. “That they’re a bunch of undisciplined, spoiled brats, disobedient, sometimes selfish, always complaining, always whining, and they’ve been (frustrating me) for four years.”

In other words, typical Frenchmen.

France didn’t start to play hard until the second half and New Zealand won the game while not playing particularly well. I played rugby for six seasons and went literally out with a bang my last game I played. I knocked three people out, and put one of them–a player on my own team–in the hospital overnight. Me…I had to get carted off to the hospital in an ambulance where I was diagnosed with a double concussion and had to get fifteen stitches above  my right eye. I can only really see out of my right eye so I figured I was tempting fate to play more. Thus, I sadly hung up my Adidas Steel Cleats and called it a career. It was very disappointing. So, I have little sympathy for the French not playing hard for a half. Such nonchalance is inexcusable.

Beer was always a big part of the post-game convocations. Part medicinal–it is hard to put into mere words how bad the body aches after 80 minutes on the pitch–and part fellowship. The ethos of rugby on the field is play hard, play fair, but leave it on the field. After the game, enjoy hanging out with the other team. Win or lose, it is a great time.

The game was so-so and so was the Steinlager. It is basically a light lager that has little flavor. Kind of like 7-Up. It is not offensive or anything but it is bland and nothing to write home about. We were all trying to convince ourselves that it was OK until my wife–acting as the little boy who observed that the “King has no clothes”–forced us to come to terms that we were drinking an average beer. That was also disappointing. Is there not a way to make the brew more adventuresome and daring? Why make something so so-so? Purely average.

We brought some Dogfish to the table to give us some taste and flavor. Although American rugby has a long way to go before it is world-class, good to know that our beers are among the world’s best.

Indian Summer

Last Saturday in Pennsylvania was the textbook definition of Indian Summer in October.  Above is a pic from patio central with the brew equipment ready to roll.

Temps were in the 70′s, the sun was shining, and a soft breeze blew. The two previous Saturdays, the weather was rather cold and raw, like whaling off of Nova Scotia. Brewing my Indian Summer kit just didn’t make sense when the weather was not in sync. I know I wrote about why I am calling it Indian Summer before…but here is a recap: I am brewing a California Lager “Steam” beer, that is fermenting with lager yeast at an ale temperature. This beer originated in California. Due to the warmer temps in Cali, and the lack of lagering caves and before refrigeration,  pre-surfer dudes did what they could considering the geography.

So, it is brew that should have been fermented cold and it was instead done warm out of necessity. Hence, Indian Summer.  The kit was malt-wise half extract and half actual malted barley. This is the first time I have brewed with any grain and it certainly required more time, equipment (igloo cooler with a screen), and attention. The malt-extract kits are like Betty Crocker cake kits. Just add eggs and and the like, pop it in the oven, voila a cake. The grain kit is like a cake made from scratch. The big difference between the malt-extract and the malted barley comes down to time, measurement, and a need for precision. I hope the taste reflects the additional investment. Along with the brew being organic, I am hoping for Indian Summer in a bottle.

My ultimate goal is to homegrow all of my ingredients for beer on my own land. I want to take my brew-making off the grid. I might still be beholden to Big Utilities for my energy, but I want my beer to be free of outside domination. Call it a moral stance. Not exactly practical yet it does have philosophical integrity.  Thus, I am taking baby steps to Beer Independence.

Prohibition: Paradise Lost

I have been watching Ken Burn’s documentary on Prohibition.   The Temperance Movement saw all alcohol consumption as damnable. It was clear– heaven or hell, saints or sinners, intoxication or abstinence.The beer above is Unibroue’s Maudite (the Damned). Some buddies and I enjoyed this last week. One of my bucket list items is to get to the Belgian-Styled Unibroue Brewery in Quebec. Quebec is a heck of a lot closer than Belgium. Not in favor of using demonic allusions, though.

First, I want to get something off of my chest: If I hear one more pseudo-sophisticate utter “You can’t legislate morality” I might just punch the TV. Murderers, Rapists, Child Molesters, maybe we should apologize for legislating morality on you. Please forgive us. The point of Prohibition is that society cannot legislate morality if it is not definitively immoral. Drinking alcohol can be wrong, it can be right. Depends on how much. Drunkenness is a sin. Drinking alcohol in moderation, not a sin. There is no doubt that drunkenness was a social problem before, during, and after Prohibition. There are a lot of reasons for this that I really don’t have the time to expound upon.

Briefly…hard lives, hard work, hard places…the desire to deaden the pain and promote pleasure. It ran amok as all pursuit of excessive pleasure does.

Although legislating morality is not as black and white as the purists still presume, there is little doubt that stupidity can be legislated. Prohibition aimed too high and as a result created a de facto industry of law-breaking below…it sought to use law to change hearts. Better to change hearts and the law will follow.   One of the cardinal rules of this jurisprudence is never create a law that cannot be enforced. All that happens is it takes a gray area and puts it into the black market. In trying to create heaven, it ushered in hell.

The rule of Not too much, by temperance taught. In what thou eat’st and drink’st.

• John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book XI, line 531.

Going Rogue

We got a writ that the annual St. George’s Oktoberfest was cancelled. Forecasts of cold and rain persuaded the hosts to cancel. It had been cancelled this year already once before…now again. The event is high and holy on the beer calendar and now we had been slain by the weather. My buddies and I were a bit incredulous. Cold and Rain….cancel? Really a reason to kill it? We are men, not old white-haired grannies forgoing the April High Tea in the flower garden due to brisk winds. Though, I do know that the St. George contingent do depend heavily on their wives to bring on the food. It is sort of a family affair. But yet….St. George historically it is said in somewhat legendary terms to have slain a wicked dragon. Would he not done so if it  had been cold and rainy? “Dear Dragon, perchance we could battle on Friday when the weather is to be fairer?” Yikes.

We quickly regrouped and formulated our own Oktoberfest at one of the kingpin’s castle. It is a lovely chateau with a stream, barbecue pit, and most importantly a “Man Cave”…a truly rustic yet entirely suitable location for a bunch of lads to drink beer, eat sausages, smoke cigars, and shoot the breeze…rain and cold be damned. The party must go ON. The essential inner circle of four of us all assented to slay the weather dragon on our own. We got the word out and then made pilgrimages to our local fine beer establishments to obtain high quality brews. No middle of the roaders or lowbrow beers. Bring your “A” beers. Others joined our hunting party and the imperfect storm now started to break our way. A little rain and cold makes the event more dramatic. Men don’t necessarily dig sitting on the beach, staring into the ocean, and drinking Coronas. That is Madison Avenue and Bridges Over Madison County crap…beer chick flick vibe. No, give us something to strive against like King Lear howling in the storm drenched in Shakespearean spirit. We see ourselves as Rogues and not Dandies. There are essentially harmless rogues like us…generally quite responsible who are just up for a good time and nasty rogues…vile characters. We are the former.

The character Kent in King Lear speaketh to another in front of Glouster Castle in one of the most poetical verbal smack-downs ever in print:

A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition.

Quite a sharp-tongued fellow with a wonderfully noxious and expansive vocabulary.  Finical Rogue…if someone called me that, I would have to consult a dictionary to decide how much I should be offended. On Thursday night, I decided to purchase a case of Rogue Ale–the Variety Case.  Rogue even has a homebrew kit of its Shakespeare Stout. Rogue Ale seemed to be a great fit into our beer arsenal for the evening and it is comprised of Morimota Soba Ale, Dead Guy, Chatoe Single Malt Mogul Ale, Somer Orange Honey Ale, and Yellow Snow IPA. Now….that is some beer battlement armor. Consult the sacred e-texts for descriptions of these lovable Rogues. At seventy some shekels for a 12-22 ounce pack, these beers and not for casual drinking. Instead, these worthies are to be savored slowly and appreciatively. What can I declare…these beers are remarkable, almost without peer. Like King Arthur’s Round Table, this case put other knights and knaves to shame. It is not even a fair fight. Their might is so intimidating to put others to retreat except for warriors like Dogfish. Our host had his own weapon store in his beer fridge and most of the soldiery were Dogfish and other high-end brewers.

We finished the night with the Yellow Snow IPA which would be a fine brew for another get-together in the dead of winter. Oh, wait a minute, it might be cold.  The evening was full of great beer, food, and fellowship.

Skull Splitter

My, my, the Skull Splitter from The Orkney Brewery conquered me.  The Orkney Islands was historically the home base for the Vikings in their pirating expeditions (i.e. away games) and has a human timeline that goes back to the Neolithic Age. Apparently the King of Norway put an end to these raids by conquering the islands and subjugating the natives and importing his own Nordic tribe.  It was sort of a successive conquering over the centuries by the Norwegian kings and finalized by Norwegian king Olav Tryggvasson in 995 when he stopped on his way from Ireland to Norway. The King summoned the ruling earl Sigurd the Stout of Orkney and said “I order you and all your subjects to be baptized (Christianized). If you refuse, I’ll have you killed on the spot and I swear I will ravage every island with fire and steel.”  (Wikipedia). The earl, was the son of Hlodvir, who was one of the five sons of the Skull-Splitter himself Thorfinn. Sigurd the Stout converted on the spot.

In my family lore, it appears that my Dad’s paternal side was from either Norway or Sweden but then immigrated at some point to Germany. My last name is Bierker which sounds about as German as any name. But, the odd thing, any German who has my last name–and there are not many in the Fatherland–are related to us as a rule. The name appears to been Germanized from Birker (a Nordic name) to Bierker by the adding of the “E.” I found no evidence as such on the web for any of this so take it for what it is worth. I am just not making it up, though.  Google kept changing the search term of “Birker Name” to “Biker Names” (the nefarious kind like the Hells Angels). So, given the pagan Viking past, maybe the Biker-Birker connection is more than just mere coincidence. I just like to note that I have Teutonic blood and leave it at that.

Now that the history and family genealogy lesson  is over, let’s get back to the beer. Seriously, though, the history is fascinating. Who thought there would be so much depth at first sip, and I mean that both literally and figuratively. The Skull Splitter at an 8.5 ABV is strong, but it hardly is king of the hill in terms of potency compared to what else is out sailing around the microbrewery seas. BUT, it smells and tastes of spirit, yet is surprisingly mild and enchanting. The beer is a very unusual combination of strong and mild…probably as good a balance of any beer I have had within the last couple of years in my own expeditions both here in Pennsylvania and distant lands. It as if the beer itself has been Christianized and civilized. Stout and Sweet, but not too Stout or Sweet.

I found this video on  YouTube about Skull Splitter. Stick with the guy, for all of his fumbling around, it is a good review. I just like that he just downs a beer and tells you what he is thinking while drinking. His “malt forward” descriptor is right on and good to remember. I hope he  doesn’t always drink alone, though. That is not a good thing. We all need a tribe to hang out with in life as we sail to eternity. So, on this prior Thursday night, my wife and I hung out with a favorite couple and had a marvelous night of fine food, fellowship, and drink.

Fall Punk: Dogfish Head Punkin Ale

As promised loyal readers, a weekend post on beer. Just like I said. Sorry about the delay. Had important things to attend to this weekend and just returned home in good old Lancaster County.

Pennsylvania Fall seasons just kick serious backside…popularly known as a_ _. In a head to head competition, state-by-state, Pennsylvania in mid-September is the beauty queen of the United States, if not the world. The air is crisp, the sun shines, leaves are falling and burning, football is in full swing. It it is weather Karma for crappy winters and too hot months of July and August. It is the time of year when all of the weather variables line up in Pennsylvania’s favor like a slot machine dishing out the Jackpot. Not that I am a fan of gambling mind you.  Especially, state run extortion schemes for people that don’t understand math.

Lina (my lovely wife) were up around Mechanicsburg this afternoon where we scored some seriously high quality Korean food and then made a trip to Wegman’s, who have found an ingenious play to do an “end-around” stupid and antiquated alcohol  laws by serving food. Truly an anachronism, masquerading as morality yet really a monopolistic scheme of patronage–if one digs his investigative cleats into the political turf hard enough. At some point, government is going to need to be based on reason.

At Wegman’s. Lina and I first went to get some fruit and vegetables, organic, for our smoothies. We have been drinking these on a daily basis. I am not a health food freak but I figure it makes sense to crank up the nutrition because I don’t always eat well. I am the one who needs the compensatory plan. Not some dude or lady who never eats crap.  Once Lina headed to check-out, I went to go check-out the beer selection. Talking about a great place to spend a Sunday afternoon! I got in some chit-chat with other beer purchasers who enjoy the upscale beer selection at Wegman’s.

Since it is Fall, I figured that I would get a Fall seasonal. Pumpkin Ales have become a favorite of many microbrews. When I noticed that the Dogfish Punkin Ale c0st in the same range as other brewers of the Pumpkin-infused varietals, I asked myself the obvious. Why would I not purchase the Dogfish? I could come up with no good reason. I am drinking one right now. I am not sure that I taste the spicing such as the nutmeg and the like, but this is a damn good beer.

An off-centered ale for off-centered people. Somehow it all lines up.  Like Pennsylvania in the Fall. Drink and enjoy.

Art and Science: The Tale of Two Beers

When doing the 40/40 Tour, I came across two distinct type of brewers. The artists and the scientists.

The artists approached beer-making as a creative enterprise, learning the science when necessary to ensure a healthy brew yet being willing to try a lot of different styles and ingredients. Tends to lead to either great or bad beers…not much in-between.  The scientists were the nuts and bolts types. Equipment, inventory, and execution of a pre-ordained style was the order of command. Closed circuited as compared to open-ended. Call it Belgian (the creatives) vs. the Germans (the engineers). In term of beer types, ales vs. lagers, top vs bottom fermenting yeasts, and fermenting temps of warmer vs. cooler. Creativity vs. Consistency.

The photo above shows the results of the scientific versus the artistic approach in my estimation. That both beers are made by Iron Hill shows that it is indeed possible to be artistic and scientific under the same brewroof.

On the left, is the Dunkleweisen.

Dunkelweizen

OG: 1.060   Color: 17   IBU: 13.5   Alc by Vol: 6.3%

Traditional dark German wheat beer with a huge fruity nose of banana and cloves from the Bavarian ale yeast. German specialty malts add notes of unsweetened chocolate and caramel.The darker nature of the lager wheat beer is just toasting the grains longer…kind of like slice of bread in the toaster. Iron Hill also brews the Belgian Witbier on the right.

Belgian Witbier

OG: 1.048   Color: 3   IBU: 17   Alc by Vol: 4.4%  Pale, unfiltered Belgian-style wheat beer. Although light-bodied, it has complex orange citrus and spice flavors that are very refreshing. In terms of ingredients, both beers  have a wheat base; it is fairly typical for brewers to also use barley with the wheat too but I don’t know the recipes here in terms of proportions. However, the results from the techniques really shows the differences on the drinking side. Like the Robert Frost poem, there are two paths presented and manifested here, and I most definitely prefer the road less taken…the Belgian Witbier Ale. The Dunkleweizen just lacked spirit. It tasted not much different than Bud or Miller. Light lagers rule the crib in the U.S. beer-making industry, but there are ales in the nursery starting to make some noise. There are several microbreweries that do a great job with German-styled beers. One that comes to mind is Stoudts in Adamstown. Several others like Union Barrelworks in Reamstown and Golden Avalanche in Kutztown too. It must be the lingering German heritage in the lagering. I just didn’t sense that the Dunkleweizen was anything special. Pencil-necked geek beer. The Belgian Witbier just had enough wildness in it to be fun.  I know from personal homebrewing experience, that Wits are literally explosive…just as it is dangerous to dream. BTW, we had a head to head match up between my Belgian Wit and Troegs Dreamweaver Wit and the unanimous choice was mine among four of us.  Although I lost about 1/5 of my stock to explosion, the remaining bottles have been all the better for the chaos. Dreamier than the Dreamweaver, that is something to crow about! When I did a preview of this post, the formatting was all screwy…got to make do. Not worth stressing trying to figure out what is going. I have to let it rip like a creative…

Finding My Thrills (Pt 1) @ Iron Hill Brewery Lancaster

First, I need to get something off of my mind and then move on.

I am thinking about drawing this blog to a close. Like a keg, I fear it is kicked. I read other beer blogs that seem to less qualitative than this one get more readers or other blogs on WordPress that  get the ‘Freshly Pressed” status that are frankly sometimes pretty flat like a bad beer left in the glass overnight. But then, days like yesterday happen when a good number of visitors hit the site and it makes it hard for me to call it quits.

No one likes to labor in vain, so if you like this 40/40 beer blog visit it at least once weekly on Saturday or Sunday and there should be something fresh to sip. I will make the decision if I kill 40/40 based on the numbers. Cold and calculating, that is me. I have enough writing to do otherwise with my book and bierkergaard blog. Search it if you want.  I won’t link it because I don’t want to presume that you give a hoot.

Part of me de-stressing is to not spend a lot of time correcting grammar and usage and the like. Just let it rip like graffiti or a jazz riff. You red-penned English teacher types out of there…take your writing micro-nanniness elsewhere or make due.

OK, now that this is out of the way, last night I headed to Iron Hill Brewery here in Lancaster. Iron Hill is the whole package. With 5 house beers, 9 seasonals, and two pages of 750 ml Reserves–many of the them award-winning—Iron Hill just crushes the competition both on quality and quantity. Iron Hill, like a battleship, has the guns and firepower. They are not going to be beat in a head-to-head competition by any other brewpub out there. The best the other micros can expect to do is either be cheaper with less quality (like Lancaster Brewing Company) or more expensive with more quality (like St. Boniface). If a microbrewpub is in the middle, prepare to be blown out of the water if you are within range of I.H.

For all of the talk about microbrews cooperating, I have to think some of this is just bluster. When an upstart like Springhouse/The Taproom is in the city and has the same type of quality/quantity profile, make no mistake about it, these establishments are competing for the same clients to fill the seats.

At I.H., the food can be great, or fairly average considering the price, but stick with the less exotic higher end bar-type of food like innovative sandwiches, and you will dine fine. And the drink is divine.

This is the Smokin Blond  Ale that I had last night…love the paradox (blonde ale style with smoked malts) and it is a sure winner.

Smokin Blonde

OG: 1.065   Color: 6   IBU: 30   Alc by Vol: 6.2%

Belgian-style Blonde Ale with biscuit-like character and a subtle sweet smoke flavor from the use of smoked malts

Here she is in all her glory…(more review about other I.H. beers to follow in future posts. Best to do it one at a time).

Brewing Organically

I recall a couple of years ago walking into a local Homebrewing store and asking whether they carried or could order an organic brew-kit.

The staff in the store looked at me like I had three heads. I saw that they were thinking “Freak.” One of the guys and I got in a tit-for-tat type of discussion about the merits and benefits of organic foods. Most people are ignorant and have not really studied the matter. Plus, the science of food has much about it that is hard to test and sort through. My approach tends to be that if a chemical kills a pest or a weed, it is in  all probability not healthy for people to consume either. That logic seems to be somewhat straightforward.

I don’t trust the government or researchers aligned with the food industry. They have a bias to be ignorant, either intentionally or not.

How else do we begin to explain the increased incidence of cancers, heart-disease, and other maladies? Food and Drink would seem to be a good place to start. Obesity plays a role, as well as a sedentary lifestyle, but what we consume must be  an actor of import.

My wife and I have endeavored to move our consumption in the organic direction. Such a move comes at an increased cost and a lack of convenience. The benefits outside of the actual food and drink are finding cool places and people and supporting local farmers and  co-ops. We have cobbled together several locations that are both relatively affordable and organically-oriented without being uber-goofy. My wife has been blogging about it on her website. Look at the Aug. 2011 posts.

Unfortunately, for brewkits, there is only one organic player who produces them. It is Seven Bridges Co-Op out in California. So, I decided to take the plunge and get the organic California Lager/Anchor Steam kit. It is a kit with lager yeast that is fermented at ale temperatures.

I am going to call it “Indian Summer” because it is brew that is to be fermented warm even though it “should” be cooler. Lagering just seems to be too much work that requires enhanced equipment, more patience, and time. I want to have it ready to drink while it is still possible to have an Indian Summer day.

It should be fun!

Good Old Yuengling Lager

In preparation for Hurricane Irene, I bolted off to the Distributor to grab a case of Yuengling Lager. I figured that beer would be one thing that FEMA, the Pa. National Guard, or the Red Cross, would not pass out if a crisis hit. Imagine if FEMA did distribute  brew. It would be the skankiest and skunkiest swill imaginable. Something like Keystone Light.

I have been drinking pricier beer recently and I needed to downsize. Yuengling is my go to house-brand. Always in the fridge for friends and family. I was running low so I needed to beef or beer up the beer fridge. I also decided to not drink much because I didn’t want my wits to be dulled in the least….I was not sure what was coming at the hands of Irene. Now it is Sunday and the worst is over. No major damages besides the plastic/rubber door of my tool shed being tossed like a Frisbee across the yard about 20 feet.

Drinking Yuengling Lager reminds me of the “Good Old Charlie Brown” adage from Peanuts. Charlie Brown is an everyman. He does his best and his decency is what makes him an easy mark. He fails and people find comfort that someone has it worse than they in the day-to-day trials of life. Or, I think all of us feel like Charlie Brown on the inside sometime. His iconic character has stood the test of time because he is so much like all of us.

Yuengling Lager will never win the heart of craft beer lovers, just like Charlie Brown will never catch the eye of the Little Red-Headed Girl. There are other studs in the fridge of life that he will thirst after. Yet, the lasting nature of Yuengling Lager, its ordinary good old-fashioned stability are fine for what you get for the money, and should not be discounted.

I know I’d miss the YL if it was not around.

Troegs Dreamweaver

Yes, I have been dreaming about drinking some Dreamweaver. A dream delayed. Today the dream came true.  Liquid R.E.M.

Drinking the heavy Big Beers from Weyerbacher boomeranged me back to my original decision of whether to go heavy or lighter two weeks ago before the shore vacation. This time, I bought a case of Dreamweaver. The summer is running down and I want to get my Wheat Beer before summer is but a memory. After the harvest, it is really too late for the Wheat. Now is the time to drink before the threshing scythe.

The red jalapenos are poised strategically in the picture to enhance the thirst appearance of the Dreamweaver. When jalapenos get red, they retain the heat but turn sweet. There is another word for green peppers…unripe.  The pepper plants out in garden are monitored carefully for optimum time to pick. Unlike regular red peppers, the nefarious groundhogs don’t swipe the jalapenos. The ghounds love the red peppers.

This fact sheet from Troegs about Dreamweaver is quite a step above what most microbreweries provide in their description. It is like the lyrics to a favorite song. Most of profiles from the craft brewers tend to be rah-rah and obvious. I like that Troegs provides more depth. Like their beers, the descriptions actually provides a tasty mouthful. It is going to be interesting to see where Troegs goes from here. When they depart Harrisburg and go 100% operational in Hershey (I presume that they are leaving Harrisburg behind), they will take another step into the elite of national caliber microbreweries.

Tonight, in my desire to purchase a Wheat beer, I faced a choice of whether to buy a case of cold Blue Moon or a warm Dreamweaver. I would rather give my cold cash to an independent and take the warm beer rather than a cold case from a cold corporation. I can wait for it to get cold. Although, it is a good thing that Coors is offering something better than their standard fizzy water with alcohol, I would still prefer being free of its web.

Here’s to summer, here is to the Wheat Beer. Savor its taste, savor the memories. Ahhhh….

Merry Monks

Well, we are going from Old Heathen to Merry Monks. I at least like the direction theologically! I always get a bit nervous when themes turn dark and demonic and Druid. And, I like the beer direction too. This brew takes the belt. It is the best of the “Big Beers” from Weyerbacher.

I have to confess that at first this beer confused me. It has a Belgian Wit effervescence but has the punch of a heavy weight (to continue the boxing analogy from the prior post on O.H.). What gives? It didn’t take too long to figure out from the clues. Weyerbacher uses Pilsner Malts which are typically used for lighter German Styles. But, they soup it up with more sugar and toss in Belgian yeast, give it more time and higher fermentation temps, and wind up with a Tripel. That is like turning a VW Bug into a Hot Rod. The frame still says VW but the engine is a 305 and is also in the back seat.

Jumping and dancing back to the pugilistic metaphors, these brews jabs with the left (with the cute picture of the laughing Monks), and follows with a hard right to the jaw, as modeled above by moi. Photo credit goes to my wife Lina for the cool idea to do a close/far deal with the bottle and the glass. Credit goes to me and my warped mind for the punching illustration. And what a right hand it is….at 9.3 ABV, there is George Foreman in that glass (I think  Foreman was a rightee). Those on Beer Advocate give it B plus. I am going to be the judge that disagrees. This is an “A” all the way. It just is quirky and original enough to qualify as a classic. A sweet science indeed is good brew-making.

I had to down a Blithering Idiot that was left over before finishing up the case with this last Merry Monks. It became even more apparent in comparison to the Merry Monks that the Blithering Idiot Barleywine is just too sweet and syrupy. Better for pancakes than the glass. Or, it is an out-of-shape fighter that is really not in the same ring as the Merry Monks. There was no way that I was ending the case on the Blithering Idiot.

P.S. My wife keeps telling me that my new Temple hat that I am wearing in the pic is too small for my head. It was supposed to be “One Size Fits All.” Guess what, my head is just too big. At 6’8″ and general genetics in my family that lead to bigger heads and longer faces, I am pretty much stuck with a hat that just does not fit as well as it could. My very-detail attentive wife doesn’t miss a thing. Most people wouldn’t notice or care. Or maybe everyone is thinking to themselves, “Man that hat is too small. Why doesn’t his wife tell him and make him take it off?”

Well, she has noticed and advised me to not wear it. Make a note of it!

Old Heathen Imperial Stout

Two down, two to go in the profile blogs on the “Big Beers” from Weyerbacher.

I am going from least favorite to most favorite in my postings chronologically, so Old Heathen Imperial Stout weighs in at numero dos. In this corner, coming into the ring at 8.0 % ABV, is this brew. I had some second guesses as to whether I should have brought this and the other heavy hitters down to the Shore. Beers like this are more appropriate when it is freezing or below in your locale. Or, at least when it is at least a bit chilly. As it turned out, I found all of the beers to have excellent staying power in that the case lasted the entire week, with me still bringing two back home (No Beers Left Behind) and giving several away to my bros.

I waited until around dinner into nightfall until summoning these beers from the fridge. These are not brews for the mid-day. As such, the beers fit well with food and the evening activities heated up and as the temps dropped.

Ocean City, New Jersey, is a Dry Town with nary at proprietor selling alcohol. I wanted to dig in for the duration and not have to make multiple beer trips to stock up on supplies. Thus, this case was a wise choice. We debated the pros and cons of the town remaining free of alcohol sales and the consensus seemed to be in the Fam that it is a good thing in that it keeps the rabble from washing up like wreckage in this shore community.

I normally default against Prohibitionary tactics, yet Ocean City is a family resort and if you want to have have the seedier side of the shore, stay in Wildwood or Atlantic City. Because the bars empty out into the Boardwalks, peoples’ over-consumption affects anyone around.  And with kids, that is just n0t cool.

Overall, I really enjoyed this Imperial Stout. Those on Beer Advocate concur that Old Heathen delivers. I am always interested in why breweries name their beers as they do.  The conjuring intrigues me. The label on Old Heathen suggests a Fall evening where darkness is restrained by the Moon. The figure stands ominously…this is no Bud Lite girl giggling. Heathens are barbaric yet this beer is far from backwards. Neither is it tame. A little wild with some surprising mild. The dark is worse than its bite.

Blithering Idiot

Blithering Idiot from Weyerbacher is a body slammer and brain concusser for the unwise. It should have a warning on the side to not operate heavy machinery when consuming like Nyquil. I only had one and that was enough. Frankly, it tastes like  Nyquil too. Not my favorite style first of all, and not my favorite brand of this style. Kind of the best of the worse to worse of the worse and Blithering Idiot is somewhere in the middle of that class.

At 11% ABV, it is about a high as a beer can fly before it ain’t beer anymore. Actually, the first Barleywine I ever consumed was Dogfish Head Ale’s Olde School at 15% ABV. Man, that is stratospheric. Planet Earth far below. It was in my buddy’s fridge and he gave me open access to anything I wanted. I was dark in the kitchen. I saw Dogfish and I bit like a fish, not really knowing what Barleywine was. I soon found out and was schooled. Mighty sweet, mighty strong. Closer to schnapps than session beer. I was fearful that if I got too close to the fire I might just combust from the fumes.

As one of the four in the Big Beer series case, it does serve as a counter-balance to the very bitter Double Simcoe IPA I profiled yesterday. Maybe Weyerbacher wanted to provide a comprehensive range in the four 6 packs. I can’t say that I will buy Blithering Idiot again either in the bottle or on tap. I just don’t like it that all much. If I do get up the courage for another, I will definitely go to Dogfish who I think are better at brewing beers like this without losing control.

Double Simcoe IPA

I have found a location in the rental shore house where Comcast’s Hot Spot comes in stronger. 40/40 is Back in Black. As a Comcast customer, I get “free” access. I suppose I should be thankful like a sea gull for the metaphorical french fry. Comcast does charge non-current clients. No altruism here. I am already on the Bully’s shakedown list.  Sort of like the Mafia.

The Wi-Fi comes in like low and high tide with seconds separating the two and alternating back and forth. It is better than going from low to no access. I have moved the  connection up to functionality. I will take it…like I have a choice anyway.

Tonight I had to to feed the extended family (10 people, with the younger kids and the teenager omnivores at the respective end of the spectrum balancing out another) . Each entity attending said Family reunion takes a night of the vacation and cooks. Since my wife has not made it down yet (due tomorrow), it was my turn without her.  I was thinking enchiladas but decided “No mas” on that train of thinking. Too hot to be in the  kitchen. I kept it cooler and did tacos. I was stressing out about it all but I took a page from my wife’s playbook about prepping in a logical fashion. If one preps right, the actual cooking is just crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s. All about execution.

Once the troops were fed, and the rest of the crew took on the dishes and pots (he/she who cooks is excused from dishwashing duties), I busted open a Double Simcoe IPA from Weyerbacher. Seriously, this  brew has some jaws a-snapping. Don’t believe what the blog says:

“This hybrid hop, developed and trademarked by Select Botanicals Group, LLC in the year 2000, was created for its high alpha acid content, maximum aromatic oils, and low cohumulone(harshness) levels so that brewers can really put a lot of ‘em in a beer and not create an overly harsh taste.”

Like saying that the Great White’s teeth ain’t that sharp. The taste is harsh yet it will make a man out of you if you swim in its waters.

 

Big Beers at the Beach

I am down at the Shore in Ocean City, New Jersey. I decided to go deeper and darker rather than light and frothy with the beer. I had been toying around with bringing a Wheat Beer. Paradoxically, I drink less when I get the D and D brews. One or two and I am good for the night. So, I bought the Big Beers sampler from Weyerbacher. I will have to write more when I get back in about five days because the WiFi connection at the shore house is weak. At least the beer is strong.

International IPA Day

Yesterday was International IPA Day (India Pale Ale).  I got together with my buddy down at the Taproom in Lancaster city to pay homage. I can’t say I have always been a fan of IPA’s. Yet, when they are brewed well and I am in the mood, it is all good.

Spring House Brewery/Taproom trends hoppy in general in their beers so it made sense to head down and quaff a couple in honor of the IPA style. We joked that there really should be some type of beer calendar giving us and idea of the holy days in the brew year. Don’t want to be caught unaware.  Maybe download automatically on MobileMe.

Today, is apparently International Beer Day and the question of whether I am heading out of not is still up for discussion. It is an internal debate. I would like to try something really out there and quirky. There is a place nearby that would fit the bill for exotic brews.

The Double IPA did not disappoint. The hoppiness is not excessive yet it does stick around in the mouth for quite some time after going down. At 8% ABV neither my buddy nor I wanted to double up on the double.

The exponentialness of it all seemed unwise. I instead had another style, the Diabolical Dr. Wit. The spicing in this brew is very apparent, particularly the orange peel. It was a good contrast to the heavier Double IPA. For the first half of the Wit though, I was still tasting the Double IPA. As if it was saying, “Hey it is my day. Remember me.” We did.

Headed to the Shore tomorrow. Bought a case of some fine beers that I will reveal after I arrive and crack one.

“Beer Is The New Wine” by Lina

Some guys have all the luck. If I believed in luck, I would be one of those guys. But, I don’t. So let us think “hypothetically.” Thank the Lord, more like it.

Not only does my wife Lina (pic above in her Mac generated splendorous array)  tolerate my beer avocation, she embraces it.  Or imbibes it. Every man I know would want a wife to plead with him to buy a case of Ommegang’s Tripel Perfection. “Oh, okay, I suppose,” I sighed, last time we bought our Belgians. Not to give readers the wrong idea, these type of brews are only once in a while and not even monthly drinking companions. But it is still very cool that Lina is all about it. We save the pricey Belgians for special events with friends who appreciate them. Otherwise, we keep the bottles out of sight.

When we first started dating, she was a wine girl, with a corner of her tastes cordoned off for Belgians beers like Chimay. Me, I was a beer guy, essentially Yuengling Lager was my go-to, with little awareness of anything Belgian besides waffles. Over time, my wife has solidly moved into the beer province, and I have upped my beer tastes. I was always in beer country, but not in the craft social class. More Joe Six-Pack.

Now, my wife and I are much more symmetrical in what we drink and when, with good-to-great beers being the portfolio. Like any good marriage, we have come closer to the middle ground on many things. Although, I still hate playing board games, something that my wife says that I totally hid when we were dating. True, I did go to one “Game Night” at her Princeton Condo the second time we hung-out. She took that to mean that I loved playing board games. Me? I was just trying to get to know her anyway I could.  I would have gone to the Dentist with her…that hardly means that I have a thing for dentistry. The jury is still out if I was being deceptive. I say “No,” she says “Yes.”

Lina recently composed a blog (look under Baltimore) about our visit to the Brewers Art down in Baltimore titled “Beer is the New Wine.” Lina’s blog Traveling Food Critic is her writing about her two favorite past-times…food and travel. It is looking like beer is going to needed to be added to that list. She is taking over my gig as the beer authority. Hmmm…maybe I should become a Wine Snob?

Yield in the Name of Thirst

We have all heard the song “Stop in the Name of Love.” How about yield in the name of thirst? To Spring House that is….Lancaster City’s finest brewpub. Hey, I said I like Lancaster Brewing Company. I don’t love it. I am infatuated however with the Tap Room of Spring House.  Ever since this firm got going down in Conestoga, I have yielded to its brews.

A local photographer and blogger captured this scene and it was posted today on Lancaster Tap Room’s Facebook page.  Looks like the Yield  needs to go to the old sign home. It sure has taken a licking. Nice how the Spring House sticker has fluorescent  qualities, allowing it to contribute to the safety of pedestrians. As well as pointing their thirst for good beer in the correct direction.

Lancaster Brewing Company: Amish Four Grain

Last night, feeling disconnected from humanity, I decided to get in the buggy and head to Lancaster Brewing Company.

I have friends that meet every Sunday night there and it is a great way to start or end the week depending on how you look at it.  Despite the icons of agrarian and bucolic scenes pasted on the brews, LBC is in the city of Lancaster. No horses in sight. Although, I do see the Amish shop at the local COSTCO with the horse and buggies having their own parking area. No fooling. That is a clash of cultures for sure, but the Amish are thrifty and like a bargain, so it makes sense.

I have lived here in Lancaster for nearly 30 years with only a couple of years out of the county after college. I was born in St. Louis, Missouri, spent my early youth in West Virginia, and then moved to the Philadelphia suburbs in 1970 to a town called Devon, unofficially and affectionately known as Devo on all of the highway signs for years…until the musical group de-evolved into oblivion and the graffiti artist grew up….I believe his name was Bo something.  He went to my high school. Devon is also known for its yearly aristocratic horse show. Despite Devon being about an hour from Lancaster, let me put it this way. We go from Bob the Snob to Bob the Billy Bob in 6o miles.  Where Blue State and Red State meet.

I came here for college and stayed. Although the locals will not grant me that status because I was not born on this  blessed soil. Lancaster is a nativistic.

Nativistic Definition from Free Dictionary

1. A sociopolitical policy, especially in the United States in the 19th century, favoring the interests of established inhabitants over those of immigrants.

2. The reestablishment or perpetuation of native cultural traits, especially in opposition to acculturation.

3. Philosophy The doctrine that the mind produces ideas that are not derived from external sources. Yep, that pretty much describes this place to a “T.”

Yet, it is always a tricky thing to critique a big part of who I am. It is logical for others to inquire, “At what point does dissin’ it become dissin’ you?”  Like someone who busts on their family a lot as a bunch of weirdos and wackos. Chances are that he or she is one of the Fruits in the family Loops. I like Lancaster despite it cultural autism. In previous 40/40 posts, I have ridden Lancaster Brewing Company hard, like a work mule. No need to rehash. Yet, I am developing more of an affection for it, because on a Sunday night and hanging out with good friends, it fits like a comfortable shoe.  Last night, I finished with the Amish Four Grain.

Like Lancaster itself, this beer is not flashy and hip. It is an even-tasting beer that has a foundation of solidness and stability, qualities that are easy to dismiss until they are missed, like that old Mule who worked hard and kept its head down. Well done LBC.

The Belgian Wit

A few blogs ago, I wrote about how my homebrew Belgian Wit went from catastrophically explosive, to flat as a pancake, to re-carbonated (A Temperamental Wit in 3 Acts) . I was so distressed when the bottles started to explode that I nearly repented of homebrewing. I thought about putting the brewing equipment on eBay and forgetting the whole enterprise. I concluded that all that work for a farce.

And since my solution of re-bottling only served to flatten the brew,  it became twice the work. Double trouble, twice the failure. I got a lot of mileage of suffering off of one batch. The only future I envisioned was drinking down the flat beers (the carbonation had fled like a bandit when I had emptied the too carbonated beers into the priming tank and then re-bottled).

I had mentioned in the previous blog that because there was still some yeast and sugar in the flat beer, when I capped the bottles and put them away, over a couple of weeks when I was out in California and Vancouver BC, the carbonation came back. I am so stinking delighted I almost feeling like squealing  like a pre-teen girl who has just saw Justin Bieber in the flesh and hair. One thing that I had not done was post a picture of the Redeemed Belgian Wit in an anatomically correct Belgian brewing glass.

Ta Da. I feel like I have to show two pictures to revel in the triumph. Double the failure, twice the success.

Civilization and Fermentation – The Rise of Culture

Interesting article on how fermentation of alcoholic beverages goes back as far as human civilization and perhaps even back to the beginning of the whole universe.  Instead of the Big Bang, how about the Big Belch? Dogfish is the premiere research facility in the world for such investigation and recreation of recipes.  Cosmology and astrophysics down to the glass in front of me. Wow.

If you have not made a pilgrimage down to Dogfish Head Brewings & Eats in Rehoboth, Delaware, you must do so. It is the Mecca of Microbreweries. I know that “Mecca and Microbrews” is mixing metaphors and might tick off the Allah-ites extremist. Yet, I believe Muslims would be a lot more chill if they imbibed in the spirits in moderation. All that coffee without completing the circle with a beverage to take it down a notch just ain’t healthy. All wind-up and no wind-down. But, I suppose, they can’t be Muslims if they imbibe. Just a theological and practical observation.   I don’t advocate intoxication and inebriation for anyone. The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Cor 10:31 “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. ” Enjoy ye the beer but not too much.

Myself and three buddies spent a holy day and night at the Dogfish Head Brewings & Eats on a late winter day over a year ago. Our pilgrimage was in three parts in order for us to complete the drinking of the sacred chalkboard writ of brews. At least I finished the chalkboard. It was my mission.

1) We had lunch…went to the hotel room and rested. 2) We went back mid-afternoon and completed another section of the writ and then went out and had sushi. 3) We returned and finished up the board. It was late. We walked back to the hotel room. A Rehoboth cop greeted us as we passed by.  A cordial cop…lovely.

A divine experience.

Philly Beer Brawl

 

Kind of uncanny. What goes well with a Philly Cheesesteak? A Beer. A Philly Hoagie? A Beer. A Philly pretzel? A Beer. Downright improbable and can’t be happening just by accident. So, it is only fitting that WIP 610 down in Philly is hosting a Beer Brawl among local breweries mid-day. Check out this article.

The Temperamental Wit: A Belgian Play in 3 Acts

It all started with a boiling pot (see above). From here, the writing is going to have to take over because I was so pissed that I deleted all of the rest of the pictures from my lap top. I still have them on my iPhone but I just don’t want to do all of the monkeying around to post them here. Take my word for it (literally), this is the way that it went down. I have pictures…even though I am too lazy to post them. You will understand why if you read on. Picture of boiling pot remained because I did not see it on my desktop.

All great stories have the three acts below:

1) Introduction: All of the characters introduced and the task at hand is to brew a Belgian Wit at 1/4 of the price of a Microbrewery: Me, the homebrew kit for Belgian Wit, the equipment. Me, the Protagonist, have already brewed without incident a Dubbel, a Trippel, and a Quad. This brewing is seasonal and quarterly . Simply, the colder it gets, the higher the ABV (Alcohol By Volume). Hence, the hotter, the lighter the brew.

2) The Complication: I bottle the brews after using the Hydrometer. Directions from supply house indicate that once the Hydrometer reads this level, I am good to bottle. Bottles promptly start to explode like fireworks. 9 soldiers lost. I take compensatory action after the first wave of explosions conclude and deeply chill the rest of the Belgian Beer Battalion in my Beer Fridge Bunker. Rep states that if I get them cool enough, the bottles should not explode. No admission by Rep for faulty directions on Homebrewing instructions. I have it in writing.   Once beers are cold, no further explosions of shard and glass. Yet, when I pop a brew, all contents rapidly evacuate bottle like a Bat out of Hell. I make the mistake of opening one inside and spray 1/3 of kitchen surfaces (ceiling, walls, counters, & floors with beer). Fortunately, wife is on business trip. Damage is only superficial. Phew.

3)  The Resolution –  I opt to open the bottles outside and empty what remains after the explosive foam sprays into Columbia (a borough four miles away) the remaining Belgian Wit into the Priming Container. Then I rebottle. Soon, I discover that the brew is flat as Kansas. I go into a deep funk and a diet and a two week vacation to the West Coast wondering what I am going to do with a case of Kansas Flats Microbrewery. I return tonight to find, because of the remaining sugars and yeast in the surviving bottles, that the Belgian Wit has recarbonated itself to my great joy.

Let us not forget the 9 soldiers who were causalities of this affair. And drink to them. They would consider that an appropriate memorial.  Rest In Peace.

Five Things I Am A Snob About

I am outsourcing my beer blog to other bloggers.  40/40 brought to you by Pavel in the Punjab province of Pakistan.

No seriously, here is one I just read.  Funny stuff.

I am going to note the five things I am a snob about:

1) Beer – Well duh, I am a blogger about beer, 3/4′s German, and 1/4 Irish. Nuff said. Yuengling Lager is as low as I will go.  Although I did have a Labbats tonight that was decent.  It is a Canadian Bud. I had a kind neighbor who cut and watered the lawn while we were on the West Coast. He likes Labbats so I bought him a case and we had a couple in his den and shot the breeze. I asked him what he liked previously and he told me the blue neighbor from up North. (Me) visiting up in Canada recently, I noticed that they have quite a complex about being subsumed by the U.S. It seemed like every TV commercial had to mention Canada in it to bolster their national identity. The Canadians are kind and nice people. Not sure what happened in Vancouver with the riot. It was pretty chill when we got there. That is supposed to be how stupid Americans act when their teams lose. Although, Canada does take hockey seriously. It is even  on their currency last time I checked.

2) Coffee – Maxwell Louse, not thanks. Shitty diner coffee, I would rather abstain. Convenience store Joe (except for Wawa), I’ll hold off until I get home. Green Mountain  is my favorite.  Starbucks used to be elite but when you see everyone drinking a cup of Starbucks, its star power dims significantly. It is more common than a bag of Doritos. Although I like Starbucks coffee, it is also pretty expensive. Make it at home. I have even thought about growing my own Arabica coffee downstairs in my basement. I will probably get raided by the local cops who think I am growing marijuana.  I don’t inhale. Clean as a whistle. Test me anytime.

3) Disposable Bic Pens – I bought some crappy pens under the Staples label that did not work, but did come in an interesting array of colors. I tossed ‘em. Seriously, how can Staples in good conscience sell pens that don’t write? That’s like a cow that gives no milk, a hen that hatches no eggs, politicians who don’t bring home the bacon. It was not like there were some miscreants in the batch. None worked without going dry then writing then dry again. If they had been fireworks, the kiddies would have been crying on the 4th because all were duds. I finally ordered the Bic black Soft Feel online that Staples no longer carries because these pens actually work. I paid like two dollars a pen after shipping  and all. Screw Staples. I can’t be the only one who had that issue. A statistical impossibility. I know stats. I have a Ph. D. in Ed. Psych. A curse upon ye Staples.

4) Running Shoes – Buy a good pair and save the feet. I was having bad problems with my feet a couple of years ago so I upgraded my running shoes. No problems, plus they last longer.  A corollary:  white sneaker socks. Buy a better brand than budget rather get in situations like I did with my last round of socks that they would tear as I pulled them onto my feet. Seriously, I am not that strong. I go all in with socks, one brand–all the same. I grew up when socks used to have colored rings around them and would have to play a version of 52 card pickup daily. I am not even sure they make those type of socks anymore. I you wear them, you should get a wedgie.

5) Cigars – Some cheapo cigars must be made from this horse tobacco the Amish around  here grow. That stuff isn’t even fit for swine. You can get a hangover off a bad cigar. Plus, your wife will make you sleep elsewhere.

Best Beer I Ever Had?

Just read this post.  Awesome photo of the lighthouse, but Corona? Not so awesome. It must have been more the location than anything else. I suppose that beauty is in the eyes of the beerholder.

America’s Best Beer Cities

Just saw this article about America’s Best Beer Cities. My Foodie wife speaks a lot of wanting to move to Portland for the lifestyle and the fresh foodie scene. I am now starting to warm more up to the prospect.  Seriously, 39 operating breweries?  That much great beer makes up for the sun not shining.  Heck, with great coffee too and a tanning bed, I think I could survive and even thrive.

We only have minor details like selling real estate and getting jobs to resolve.

Last weekend at a wedding here in California, I had a Stone Pale Ale. Here it is glistening coolly in the California sun.  No need to write more….sometimes words just get in the way.

Continue reading

The Duvel is in the Details

Here is some history on Duvel. The Belgian Brewery that is able to attain both Quality and Quantity in its brews. This leads to Quaffability.  Duvel is also the brewery behind Ommegang which is brewed in Cooperstown N.Y., essentially a Belgian brewery Ex-Pat.

Kolsch

My wife forwarded me a good article about Kolsch Beer. Has Ale yeast but it is fermented coolly like a Lager. Fittingly, it is a great brew for the summer time when you want to chill and beat the heat.  After mowing the yard and stuff like that. Check it out here. 

Sleeman Honey Brown Lager

Had one of these cold ones last night after the plenary speaker at the World Futures Conference in Vancouver. The speaker used a clip from Sleeman Brewery that I tried to find on YouTube that essentially communicated the theme that Sleeman is not about the label and commercialization, it is about the beer. Authenticity was the speakers point.

Apparently Sleeman was getting crushed like a beer can by the Big Breweries, most of them not Canadian.  Couldn’t find the clip…it was about a couple getting married where people around the table took the polite label off and told them what they were thinking. Effective ad, got the message across. The Sleeman market shared rebounded and has even grown.

Here is another ad, less funny and awkward, with the same message. Plays on the theme that it has no label hiding the beer. It is  a decent beer. Not great. Better than Bud.

Beachwood Brewing

Just read about a new restaurant opening in Long Beach. It is actually a second restaurant with the same ownership and is just bigger and better. Beachwood Brewing. Barbeque and Craft Brews (both in house and other breweries). Sounds like it is worth a visit. Here is an article about the opening of the new place.

Redondo Beach Brewery

Yesterday, we were winding our way up and down the coastal highway in Southern California seeing the sights. In the late afternoon, my buddy (who lives in L.A.) and I landed in Redondo Beach to catch some food and drink. Checking Yelp, I saw that Redondo Beach Brewery was in town. Yelp said it was .9 miles away….no it wasn’t. As, I was staring at my iPhone, I looked across the street and there it was. Beauteous!

Redondo Beach is a town on the ocean that sits high above the sea on cliffs. Quite picturesque. The beach is not sand…instead it is rocky and craggy. After I drank the Rat Beach Red I saw a metaphor.  My beer looked a marvelous copper color. At first sip, it pleased my palate. Then, there was a steep drop off, like a cliff. The flavor profile concluded in an unsatisfying and odd astringent taste. It also lacked depth; a low tide of taste character.  A rocky and craggy brew in the end.

When I tasted my buddy’s Manhattan Beach Blonde, that brew had the same ending.  Not sure what that means but it could suggest a brewing recipe similarity behind-the-scenes to save time and energy. Perhaps, at least, the same type of hops in the same proportion at the minimum.  I suspect that the malts change from brew to brew but everything else is the same when within the ale selections (yeast, hops, fermenting temperature). Just a hunch.

I went to Beer Advocate to check to see if my impressions lined up with others. The overall rank from the beer rating community was a B-. I would give this beer a “D.”  No curve for California on this one.  Its copper look turned into a copper taste at the end. California has many amazing microbreweries but this is not one of them from what I can taste. Maybe I should have tasted a third but didn’t want to take my chances.

The surf is not in here. Best to go to a different beach.

A Little R & R

Taking a little R & R from the 40/40 blog. See you after July 18th sometime! Surely, I will be drinking some fine brews in the meantime!

 

Curmudgeon Old Ale: Ahoy!

We headed with another couple to Bully’s in Columbia, Pa., the other night. Columbia is a good place to get a tattoo or beat up, but it is not quite the mecca for fine dining and drink. Bully’s tries to be upscale but it cannot escape its Columbia location. Columbia is an old river town and I have heard that river towns can be a bit rough and Columbia certain fits the stereotype.  Yet, Bully’s–like Avis–tries harder.

Any place that has an extensive Beer Bible deserves a visitation from a Beer Sage like me.  Although the 40/40 pilgrimage came to an end last July 4th, I have cred for life.  Someone recently tried to stump me by naming out-of-the way Pennsylvania Micro-Breweries, hoping to bring up one that I had not been to.  He gave up after about ten tries and confessed that “Eric knows his beers” in awe and admiration.  I was only a vessel who had extra time on his hands for a brief sudsy moment.

Fittingly, at Bully’s, I drank a seafaring Curmudgeon Old Ale from Founders. I suppose that rivers and lakes count, too.  Here is the sacred writ from the Beer Bible:

I love names for beers like Dirty Bastard and Curmudgeon, but draw the line on satanic stuff like Devil Dancer (all three are Founders’ Brews). Drinking with the Devil, I am not down with. I recall the time I asked for St. Obnoxious at Victory Brewing Company and the server got a confused look in her eyes. Then, she said, ”St. Boisterous?“

Oh yeah, that’s it. I should have grasped that “Saint” and “Obnoxious”  just don’t go together, even in Micro-Brewing. See the Curmudgeon below…

Ahoy, this is one great beer despite its cantankerous name. Kind of like and old sailor who was long past being politically correct and concerned about who might be offended by what he said but who still loves people.  High ABV, supreme maltiness, this brew will take the chill out of the bones after a long night on the decks of the ship fishing and hauling nets. Or, a rough night in the Easy Chair watching the wife’s favorite TV programs one after another in succession on Netflix.

There is an ocean of goodness in this glass even though it is hardly tame. Wild and strong like the sea, I can almost smell the sea air and hear the sea gulls now.