My La Chouffe tradition

Until I caught a whiff from its bright nose, I didn't realize I was fulfilling an unnoticed holiday tradition. For the fourth Christmas in a row, I'd put down a giant bottle of La Chouffe.

The first year was a gift pack with a La Chouffe glass and a bottle each of its Golden and Brown ales. The next two years it was La Chouffe's Christmas ale, a stronger ale replete with Christmas spices. In stumbled onto the Christmas ale due to the eye-catching gnomes on its bottle. According to the story put forth by its brewers, the gnomes emerge at night to brew the beer. They're not on par with the Trappist monks, but those legendary little creatures do well for themselves and their drinkers.

Now in 2006, it came back to the Golden, which easily qualifies as my favorite.

Made in the French-speaking portion of Belgium, it comes off as a more complex, sparkling version of a Saison-Farmhouse style ale. It has a bubbly, champagne-like effervescence and a light, citrus and red fruit taste that is somewhat unique give its style. No American microbrewer comes close to matching this recipe (though Unibroue could come damn close).

At 8 percent, a single 25 oz. bottle is enough for one night.

But what a night that always is.

Erie Brewing Company marches on

At beer stores around Central Ohio, a distinct - and at times infamous - name from my past has crept back into view: Railbender.

The beer of so many lost college Friday afternoons had soldiered its way to Columbus, and now it's returned prominently. The Erie Brewing Company has expanded its reach and a handful of beers now line the shelves.

Though I've only had the Mad Anthony Pale Ale and the Presque Isle Pilsner (the lightest of non-light lagers at 4.2 percent ABV) since I first saw them, I'm please with their offerings.

The problem is that beer loses something as it moves down the continuum toward mass production. A fresh pour from the brewpub tap is usually the best beer available.

Taking home said ale or lager in a half-gallon jug is a close second. This was a standard appearance of the Railbender in college, since Hopper's Brewpub, from which the Erie Brewing Company sprang, didn't bottle its beers when we first found this strong ale that pushed past 7 percent ABV (the bottled version tones it down to 6.8 percent). It has become the ritual when leaving the Elevator or Barley's in Columbus, since I'm not yet a homebrewer and the beer pours no fresher in my house.

The continuum has other problems. When Rogue Brewing first brought out its Dead Guy Ale in six packs, forgoing the 22-ounce format with which it made its name, something changed. At least for me; the potency of the ale in those larger bottles did not translate well in 12-ounce form.

So I'm eager to see how well Railbender translates. The pilsner, named for the peninsula which curves around Erie's harbor, was a pleasant and crisp (if a little light) experience, and the Mad Anthony was a pretty standard ale.

The hopes are high for this reunion.