For all the praise of Nashville beer geeks, I have to admit that Chuck’s Liquor Outlet smokes any store in Tennessee. High alcohol taxes are our bane.
Most beer guys are never satisfied. I was always curious just how different the beer spectrum became across the border. Sure enough, it was 60miles from home but light-years ahead. For years I had friends bring hometown Great Lakes Brewery’s wares down from Ohio. No more. I can pick up most of their lineup in Bowling green. The same goes for Bell’s from Kalamazoo, but I’m not as enamored with their hoppy concoctions as most beer geeks.
With plans for a saison tasting this weekend, I wanted to see if Kentucky offered any alternatives to familiar Tennessee lineup. They delivered in spades, with a few Belgian classics and a departed favorite.
It’s weird. Beer Geeks baffle me. For all the praise Chuck’s received online, there were plenty of complaints about it only having “one aisle” of craft and imported beer. Now, that one aisle contained 300-350 different types of beer. Some people cannot be pleased. Even with a 120-mile roundtrip, I have no complaints with Chuck’s or Bowling Green’s charming commercial district.
After our stop at Chuck’s, we ventured through the abominable retail corridor of Bowling Green, we arrived at its thriving downtown square. A Greek statues topped a massive wrought-iron fountain and various statues surrounded the gathering spot.
The village green was surrounded by old storefronts on three sides, including a handful of restaurants and an old theater transformed into an art exhibit. Western Kentucky University loomed behind the square, its footprint much bigger than expected for school whose football players sell tickets door-to-door. It was dark and foreign but only an hour from Nashville. Sometime we will see it during daylight hours.
Okay, three priests walk into a bar … Actually, I didn’t see them walk in. At dinner, we couldn’t stop looking across the room. Three priests ages 30 to 50 to 60 dined, probably discussing parish matters. In line with his generation, the youngest broke up their conservation to check an iPhone. Even a priest in priestly company wants to be somewhere else.
About that tasting
With the bounty acquired in Kentucky, we had a solid lineup for a Labor Day tasting. Justin and Jen contributed a few other options to round it out. Justin had asked about holding a saison tasting, so I designed a beer menu and he came up with the food.
I skipped Saison DuPont because it’s the most commonly imbibed saison thanks to a Men’s Journal rating. We started with Hennepin, the creamy, spicy masterpiece from Ommegang in Cooperstown and the first saison made in the U.S.
Moving onto Sierra Nevada’s Ovila Saison, I tasted the difference instantly. The first Ovila I sampled came off as a dead-ringer for Hennepin. Tasted side by side, subtle differences arose. Ovila shed the creaminess and had a more herbal finish with chamomile and a touch of mint on the finish.
We moved toward one of the tasting’s outliers, Brooklyn Brewing Sorachi Ace, an American twist on Belgian saison by way of Japanese hops. Sorachi ace is the fickle, bone-dry hop that defines this saison. Brooklyn brewmaster Garrett Oliver is know for bold experiments, and Sorachi Ace hits a summer high note.
The biggest question mark was a Saison de Pipaix acquired in Bowling Green. I popped the cap to find a surprise cork underneath it. Almost black in spots, the cork looked as if it held back an ancient beer. Pipaix certainly drank unlike anything else we sampled. Herbal, medicinal and somewhat sour, this bottle had some age and the beer had developed some odd flavors thanks to wild yeast or the lactobacillus that creates sour ales. It was my favorite of the night because of its skill at pushing saison boundaries.
Avec Les Bon Vouex is Saison DuPont’s big brother, a strong saison originally brewed as a New Year’s beer but later inducted into the brewery’s regular lineup. I had it years ago, and always remembered it as one of the best strong saisons from Belgium (the alcohol content pushes 10 percent). Big and bold, it showed saison could push extremes in alcohol content without sacrificing the complexity and character inherent in the style.
Last we came to Dogfish Head Namaste, a 5-percent summer salivator that perfectly closed off the tasting. After a few monsters like Avec Les Bon Voeux, we needed a light quencher to level us out. The blonde thrived on doses of lemongrass, coriander and oranges.
Most of our party had not tasted saisons before, so it was a good introduction to a style I love that gives little detail in its name.
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