Any trip West would be woefully incomplete without the beer. With its high concentration of craft brewers, I had to check out what I could in Seattle, Portland and the coast breweries. Since a few bottles survived the air journey to Nashville, more beer reviews will arrive in the coming months. But this is my on-the-ground, you-are-there roundup of Washington and Oregon brew. It is nowhere near comprehensive, just the juice that grazed one man's palate.
The first might have tasted better because it came across Elliott Bay from West Seattle. I started with a bottle of Pike Place Naught Nellie, a grainy summer ale thick with lemon character. The bone-dry summer ale is heavy on lemongrass and coriander, and the soothing lemon eases the finish, avoiding the pitfalls of other summer ales. The next day at the brewery, I took a draught of Monk’s Uncle Tripel, a 9-percent Belgian style made with a yeast culture from the famed Trappist abbey brewery at Westmalle. The Westmalle yeast imparts a sour character and the alcohol content conjures a peppery finish. The orange-flavored body takes a bitter turn into lemon. The grainy textures remind me of of a Westmalle Tripel or a Tripel Karmeliet. It was a pleasant tripel, but not an overpowering one.
Elliot Bay Brewing would crop up repeatedly throughout the trip. At the Luna Park Café, Jenny and I tried the Elliot Bay Luna Weizen. After removing the superfluous lemon wedge, I found a nice Belgian-style wit lurking beneath. A thick flow of bitter wheat malt occupies the palate. Lunaweizen then ushers in a wave of cloudy malt inflected with clove and with a shred or two of bubblegum. The body walks a fine line between orange and lemon, and mellows with a little time.
Elliot Bay does an impressive series of organics and serves the full lineup at two brewpubs, At the California Avenue brewpub on Wednesday, I went with the Gulden von Boorian, an imperial Belgian blonde ale. A fresh hop wave precedes the esters of Belgian yeast. Creamy with a thin lace, it’s somewhat dark for a Belgian blonde as burnt orange flavors dominate. It has a splendid bouquet of coriander and grain. The hops come back on the finish and mesh well with the cream and the spices. Don’t skip this Pacific Northwest twist on Belgian blonde. The organic B-Town Brown Ale closed out a lunch of fish & chips shortly before a leg broke on my chair then collapsed (true story). But that doesn’t reflect upon the beer. I struggle with brown ales, because they can be solid but not necessarily groundbreaking. If you want a better representation of Newcastle Brown, your local brewer probably has one. Elliot Bay’s take has a progression of dark and chocolate malts that impart a velvet coating on the palate and include a sassafras finish. It isn’t revolutionary, but definitely beats any mass-market imitators.
At the Beer Junction, West Seattle's premier brew store, a bomber bottle of Northern Lights Crystal Bitter caught my attention. This interesting session brew came from Spokane, the only beer from that region I would sample on this trip. This bitter is strong with red fruits and a spritz of malt bitter. There isn’t as much hop on the nose as advertised, but a bouquet of mild herbal tones is enticing. The herbs are wedged among flavors of lemongrass and chamomile. The ale has a purity, a mountain water character that is truly welcoming. A dynamic everyday drinker, Crystal Bitter has a burgundy body and layers of tangerine and even a little date. The latter was a huge surprise for a session ale.
On the waterfront in Newport, I went with a few brewery-only concoctions at the Rogue Publick House. I could drink Juniper Pale or Dead Guy at any time. The bartender poured a shot glass of Juniper Pale Ale for every visitor, but my sights were already set. I could not skip Rogue Crab Porter, brewed in honor of the Newport Wild Seafood Fest, Rogue dropped eight crabs into the porter boil. I couldn’t taste them at all. But the porter is so rich and drinkable, few would notice. It was potent ale with chocolate backed by molasses, coffee and creamy characters. Crab porter was a dark ale for all-day consumption. Rogue Creamery 75th Anniversary Ale was much darker, with the character of a Belgian dubbel. Crafted for the creamery's 75th birthday, Rogue designed it to be paired with its Rogue Farms Freedom Cheddar cheese.
The Creamery Ale was much heavier than the porter, with a slate of similar characters plus nutty textures, some chicory and a little sassafras on the finish. It has little head but is complex and drinkable, if only once. What could I finish with? I had to go back to my earliest craft beer experiences and asked for a Shakespeare Stout. An old beer guide ranked the oatmeal stout among the world’s best beers, and I have never argued that point. At the brewery, the oats and the roasted malt goodness were the perfect antidote for a day of driving the Oregon coast.
In North Bend, I went with an Elysian Fields Loser Pale Ale, a beer brewed to commemorate Sub Pop Records and with “Corporate beer still sucks” as its tagline. Sorachi Ace creates an uncommon dryness in any pale ale. The crystal hops are not searing and somewhat fruity. Some grapefruit punches up, but nowhere near as potent as that of an IPA. A strain of lemon emerges from that stiff, hoppy core. The Seattle brew is a definite change for the pale ale standard, although not one that will be widespread. Sorachi Ace is too fickle for that.
I was not done with Rogue. In Crescent City, hotel time involved Rogue White Crane Bitter. Its thick malt profile plows the palate. The nose brings a stiff bill of hops plus a floral blast of herbs and citrus. White Crane Bitter has more of a wheat amber character, with a little dose of effervescence and a wispy head. White Crane Bitter doesn’t drift too deeply into Belgian wit characteristics, although it does have moments of burnt orange, licorice and a sharp spice I cannot place. Herbs such as lavender definitely help its evolution. The Pacman yeast in most Rogue beers might have a role in its offbeat development. In any event, it’s an intercontinental winner.
For the 75th anniversary of the bridge spanning Newport’s harbor (lots of beers made for those in Newport), Rogue brewed Yaquina Bay Bridge Ale. The hoppiness is consistent, with red malts to mellow the hops in the bouquet, clove and on the finish, a little grain adds to the complexity. Easy drinking but hoppy, this limited edition should appeal to hopheads with its bright fruits and complement of Saaz and Rogue Revolutionary hops.
After years of drinking Lost Coast Indica IPA due to its strong quality at a low cost, I was glad to find a few summer quaffers unlike most on the trip. The real victory came from Lost Coast Tangerine, which took the hefeweizen template and embellished it with tangerines in the brew kettle. At moments, the fruit tones are so succulent in this ale that it tastes like the actual fruit. Tangerines make it unique and among the best hefeweizens tasted in recent memory. Great White is Lost Coast’s take on Belgian wit is a solid ale, but not the revelation of Tangerine. Apricot, lemon and orange all compete for face time in the clean-tasting body. The malt thickens on the finish and gently coats the palate. Grainy textures elevate this pale wheat that fits most summer nights. Lost Coast doesn’t compete in the Extreme Beer Wars, but its ales deserve notice on the beer aisle.
After a downing a Deschutes stout intended to ease the day of hiking at Crater Lake, I moved onto Cascade Lakes Blond Bombshell Ale. This Redmond, Oregon brew goes for the easy target with its Marilyn Monroe-esque label. That feels a little tired. To judge the ale in a vacuum, it is strong on lemon and light on alcohol. Bubbly and seductive, lemon zest adds some roughness and character. It’s a quality session ale, but gets a personal downgrade because of the blonde bombshell puns. I’ve tasted too many ales hung up on the same name. It’s time for something different.
At the Green Dragon in Portland, we went with paddles of local samplers. It helped me cover more ground in an expansive beer landscape. The bartender warned us that the Double Mountain Vaporizer came from a cask. He’d seen too many patrons turn up noses at the warm, flat nature of cask-aged beer. The flatness allows the hop profile to shine, giving rise to more lemon than grapefruit. Its ultra-dry aftertaste cannot be helped but isn’t unpleasant. It’s quite refreshing. Gilgamesh Mamba soared with some of the strangest fruit tones I’ve ever faced in beer. I get moments of lichee, moments of cotton candy and xxxxx. Fine to drink, but I need some answers.
Upright #7 was the saison of many people’s dreams. I wouldn’t mind seeing the explosive flavor profile in mine. Hoppy and full of cracked grain, it roars across the palate without overwhelming. Barley and wheat tones dance on the tongue. I just had a sampled but a delightful saison, even though it lands in the hoppier spectrum.
Alameda IPA represents the narrow slice of American IPAs that I enjoy. It’s hoppy and sternly bitter at times. But it also has rounded and soft moments, an excellent malt profile and some creaminess that likely comes from its draught origins. We finished with Mt. Emily Wildfire Red, a hoppier red that pleases due to its complex malt character. I believe red ales should come off as light scotch ales, where Wildfire excels.
With Green Dragon’s plethora of taps, I had to make time for Hair of the Dog Adam. Michael Jackson lauded it, and I was curious to try the Portland brewer’s unique style. It pours on the charm with loads of molasses, dark chocolate and a smoky nose that accentuates all the dark flavors. It reminded me of Gulden Draak with a little more zip in the body. Adam was nice to try, but not an everyday beer. At Saraveza’s, I bought a 12-ounce Hair of the Dog Ruth for later consumption. This American pale ale was more my speed than Adam. Ruth has an oily hop texture and then proceeds to blow away most American pale ales. It throws off incredible aromas, a bodyu of tangerine and lemon, rich citrus finish that does not linger. This is the apex of American pale ale.
My biggest disappointment came from a mango saison brewed by Fort George Brewing (definite pass). Next time I will work to sample some of Fort George's renown brews - I had this one at the neighborhood pub Saraveza's in Portland. It just could not compete with the flavor of some recent engagements. For all the accolades, my a.m. visit to Astoria did not coincide with a few rounds of Fort George ale.
Normally Red Hook wouldn’t be on my radar, but Seattle shelves included Red Hook Blue line Series Extra Special Birthday, a 30th anniversary brew based Red Hook’s original extra special bitter recipe. The banana-clove character produced by its Belgian yeast produced a drastically different ale than the one common to groceries nationwide. It bursts forth with plenty of close, banana and even spearmint under a nice push of English-style hops. The 1980s ESB had a banana beer reputation and Extra Special Birthday goes a long way toward restoring the brand’s luster (Anheuser-Busch owns a share). Never does a dull moment pass. Hops play a major role by filling in the gaps left by the banana and clove. This 30th anniversary brew makes me want to revisit Red Hook – actually, it wants me to demand they make this beer available for all the Red Hook doubters out there.
I took refuge with one East Coast refugee. The Beer Junction provided me with a long-awaited taste of Ommegang’s Cup of Kyndnes, its Belgian-style Scotch ale. Malt and creaminess ripple off the nose. The head holds on and this malt behemoth allows the spice, which is mostly heather, to navigate the dates, chocolate and molasses fighting for supremacy in the body. While still heavy in body, the heather rounds it out beautifully, creating nice flavors such as dandelion and honey. Creamy and as heavy as Ommengang abbey, Cup of Kyndnes evolves in fresh ways. Not like anything else in the Ommegang family, Cup of Kyndnes develops in unusual manners. Belgian yeast adds the heather in warding off the strong Scotch ale flavors. I doubt I would revisit it – true of most Scotch ales, honestly – but it stands among the flavorful specimens seen throughout 2011.
I did not abuse my liver in Seattle, but let it go a few rounds with some champs and a few lightweights. Next time around, I plan to let it take on a few new challengers. There are plenty yet to come, and hopefully my sister's cat Kyona will keep a few stashed for me. If that cat gets the same taste for beer that it has for kibble, all bets are off.
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