Cleaning Out My Notebook

My notebook has filled with craft beer reviews. Few of these beers bear anything in common. So let's skip the fanfare and proceed directly to the beer. I went through a period filled with some rather weak Franco-Belgian saisons past their shelf life, and have kept a steady routine of summer ales (Brooklyn, mostly). That necessitates the deep dive.

Trout approved: Pemi Pale Ale
Sampled: May 2, 2011

The Woodstock Inn lies just outside the White Mountains, and contracts some recipes with the Shipyard Brewing. I'm a sucker for offbeat labels, and the anthropomorphic trout on the label beckoned me to this six-pack.

Pemi Pale is firmly an American-style pale ale, with a florid nose and body of grapefruit tones tinged with lemon. The stiff thrust of hops on the back end rounds it out and effectively stumps for another taste. I usually skip overly hoppy pale ales, but chalk up Pemi PA as a winner. Its affable character and bitter citrus tastes that don't scorch the palate made

Not a touch of rust: Sam Adams Rustic Saison
Sampled: May 23, 2011

This one remarkable ale nudged me to buy the Sam Adams Summer Classics pack. After killing a few at the 3 Crow in East Nashville, I wanted more. Once again, SA packaged one of their delectable concoctions in a pack crowded with Boston Lager and SA Lite. Jim Koch and company pour a nuanced saison that comes on strong with orange-layered mango, lemon zest and notes of pineapple. The body eventually tilts toward a sharper lemon, but a wave of honey sweetens and rounds off the finish. I'm tempted to call it American saison, but what's in a name? Rustic Saison is a solid summer quaffer with a different row of complexities than its Franco-Belgian counterparts.

There's a shade of B vitamins lurking beneath the esters forged by the yeast. Get a Rustic Saison now, because it won't last long after the season. While complex and not easily hemmed in, most saisons do has short lives.

Now if only drinkers can coerce Sam Adams into placing Rustic Saison into its own four- or six-pack for late spring 2012. With the kegs now drying up, I will happily plug for this brew, one of SA's better experiments.

Highway 78 Scotch Ale Revisited
Sampled: May 26, 2011

Definitely more a wee heavy than a mainline Scotch ale, Highway 78 emerged as a partnership between Stone, Green Flash and Pizza Port Carlsbad. Stone aged some of Highway 78 in Scotch barrels, but that doesn't help us east of the Rockies.

The smoked malt nose has peaty textures and a whole lot more behind it. Ruby in color, Highway 78 displays a dose of molasses and cream, with a little fig and vanilla widening its intricacies. Its development is furthered by a little chicory and a sublime line of roast cocoa.

At 8.8 percent, it's a bruiser. Every pass of the nose finds new facets. On subsequent visits, I found hints of banana/clover usually reserved for hefeweizen and a vein of sassafras on the nose. At 30 IBUs, it could be a little hoppy for a Scotch ale, but there is too much transpiring here to fret about hoppiness. Scotch ales are not beers I revisit, but Highway 78 shows Stone can handle the drive with a style it rarely touches.

Stone Still Big, Gnarly and Untamed at 13: Lukcy Bastard
Sampled: May 26, 2011

I frequently dismiss Arrogant Bastard as "fratboy craft beer" because it is. Check out who leaves the store with AB. It's an apt description.

But everyday Arrogant Bastard is only one variation. Stone also makes the smooth Oaked Bastard and the indulgent Double Bastard. For its 13th anniversary - an appropriate one to observe with Stone's horned demons gracing most bottles - it whipped up a blend of the three that turned out surprisingly drinkable at a high alcohol content (8.5 percent ABV).

Chances are Lukcy Bastard (their spelling, not mine) is long gone from the shelves. We got one case, and I sat on this bottle for almost seven months before sampling. The nose spreads out with a fan of pepper, oak and wildly floral tones. It has a gentle lace and a mighty grapefruit flavor but almost no backbite, just a deep orange zest back by dry red citrus. Stone performed a coup here - it combined its three Bastards and keep there best attributes front and center. Lukcy Bastard never veers into hop-bomb territory, nor does Oaked Bastard asset more than a few generous waves of wood.

Lukcy Bastard definitely roars and beats its chest but never charges.

By no other name: Rose d'hibiscus (Brasserie Dieu du Ciel)
Sampled: May 31, 2011

This Montreal brewpub creation has a fragrant bouquet of watermelon, grapefruit, lichee and other tropical fruits. A cidery must swells after the initial spice, the herbal tones and the sour punch. Comfortably sour, it works in interesting directions. On the finish, a gentle wave of sour hits the palate. It isn't quite green apple, but still prominent. Rarely are the floral tones and the sour so balanced.

This bottle sat for 2 years before drinking. Obviously its use of rose petals and hibiscus instead of hops owes a debt to Cantillon's Rose de Gambrinus. Because so few brewers attempt this flavor bomb, its unusual triumphs separate easily from the craft brew pack. If not for its price ($5 for 333 mL), it would be my summer exclusive. As it is, Rose d'hibiscus will remain a treasured novelty.

Another Farmhouse Victory: Jolly Pumpkin Weizen Bam
Sampled: June 19, 2011

Jolly Pumpkin has proven itself a wild beer innovator with its Bam series, producing a line of American-style farmhouse ales.

With Weizen Bam, the wheat malt and brettanomyces fit together snugly. There's no "ice-cream head" to weigh down Weizen Bam and its slightly cloudy, straw-colored body. The nose is rich with B vitamins.

Boosted by the brett, tangerine, orange and lemon flavors create an ambiance quite different from Bam Biere, an lighter-bodied Orval clone. The brett-enhanced lemon finish comes with a cloudiness rich in fingers of the traditional hefeweizen fruit flavors.

What comes next sharply diverts from traditional wheat ales. The intense sour of wild ales can be off-putting, but Weizen Bam threads that needle. The sour alters the traditional banana/orange/clover character of hefeweizen, letting it run wild in a way few wheat ales do. Its conclusions is closest to actual hefeweizen, but the brett earns top billing.

Drank almost a year after bottling, I think Weizen Bam had a chance to settle in and develop some unique flair. It's a magnificent summer libation, blending wheat ales with the Flemish sour and French farmhouse traditions. In some ways, it's almost like three beers welded into one, the clear golden ale, the wild hefeweizen and the swirled, opaque remains of its year aging in the dark. That sour ties it all together in an American ale worthy of the farmhouse pantheon.