hoist the main ales

Brew in the Duke City (Day 1)

2012-02-07T16:26:00.001-06:00

Marble Brewery's taproom and brewhouse

Another Western spin could only fresh rounds of local beers. I barely had to research Albuquerque's beer culture - it practically jumped out at me. When it comes to craft brewing, western voyages spoil me. It was hard not to trip over the options for fresh beer. If you don't trip over them, ask a bartender and you'll earn an earful of advice. Everyone has favorites just around the corner.

Albquerque showed pride in its evolved but accessible brewing environment. Il Vicino and Tractor poured their wares across the street from each other in Nob Hill. Soon Moriarty's Rio Grande Brewing will pour its brews at the Albuquerque Sunport. Chama River had a micro-taproom around the corner from the downtown loft and a large brewery on the I-25 frontage road not far from Nexus Brewing (sadly, time did not permit a visit to either - next time, fine brewers).

We visited several breweries in the Duke City, but started with one of New Mexico's best known. The Marble Brewery sat only seven blocks away, solidifying it as our first night target. We walked through the darkness of Second Street and just when it seemed darkest, the green-tea smell of brewing beer wafted around the corner.

A copy of Albuquerque magazine in the loft rated the local beers, and of course, the style I most wanted to try got the highest rating. No matter how beloved Marble Double White was, I would start there - then I too would join the bandwagon. The lemon-driven body collides with the spices yet remains velvety. A finger of licorice sneaks into the mix. Marble Double White rivals Southhamptom's exemplary version and best-in-class Celis White. Nancy and I contemplated getting a growler.

Nancy started with Marble Wildflower Wheat, so we had it side-by-side with the Double White. Probably not the best comparison, the wheat presented its own merits. The wildflower honey worked well with the wheat malt, and the subtle banana-clove finish never lingered. This agreeable hefe weizen would better suit a triple-digit day.

Having expected greatness on Double White, Marble Red could not have hit either of us more abruptly. Nancy generally avoids hoppy beers, but she could not with Marble Red, which veers away from the "Scotch Ale lite" script many red ales stick to. I advised her to try the red, expecting the latter. When you got it and momentarily recoiled, I realized this ale walked its own path.

Red in color and with the appropriate malts, Marble Red rises from the glass with a burst of perfume, herbs and grassy notes thanks to the lively hop trio of Cascade, Simcoe and Crystal. Caramel malt serves admirably as the undercard. Despite the hop floweriness, Marble Red did not suffer from a lack of balance. Possibly the most unique beverage we sampled in Albuquerque, Marble Red was one of the more sessionable hoppy ales I ever tasted.

I tasted Marble's amber, but upon learning that their Jezebel was a sour amber ale produced with brettanomyces, my mind was made up. At 7.5 percent ABV, it runs a bit stronger than most sours. But it was delightful nonetheless. Jezebel has a light layer of mustiness and horse blanket on the nose, but the body really kicks up some dust and cidery qualities. The sour from the nose reemerges crisply in the finish. This sour was not at all not lip-puckering. A distinct, assertive bouquet of sour cherries emerged in the body, helping to make it one of them ore balanced sours I've tasted recently. Marble deserves some applause for producing a sour cherry flavor so succulent without using fruit.

Marble asks drinkers to limit themselves to three pints a night. I knew that drill from my experience in Montana's taprooms. For the third pint, I went with Hersbrucker Lager, a German pilsner with a wallop of bright, citrus-filled German hops. There's also a little bit of candied fruit lurking within. After the tastes of wheat, sour and heavily hopped red, it was a virtual palate cleanser and a dynamite everyday beer.

Ghost in the ale

Nancy closed out with Marble Brown. The brown ale's lace condensed into a somewhat ominous shape (see above). Its dark malts could not suppress a surprisingly hoppy assault that struck mid to late palate. Marble Brown poured much darker than Newcastle Brown Ale; it nose and body were a dozen times more florid. German hops gave it nice structure, even if they couldn't chase the ghost from the glass. That empty glass chased us from Marble Brewery, but its enticing taproom lineup would set the tone - as well as a high bar - for Albuquerque's beer culture.

Enter the Jackalope

2012-01-27T16:26:00.004-06:00

Full disclosure: In response to a news article about two new breweries opening in the same warehouse, I almost penned a post ripping on the Nashville brewery scene. Halfway through, I realize I had no right to such an opinion until I had sampled the taps of the city's newest entrants.

Jackalope Brewery recent expanded its hours, so the time arrived for a taproom trip. I had not sampled anything from the brewery's guest taps around Nashville pubs. In fact, I had grumbled about the operation, since it kept limited taproom hours and all my 2011 Fridays were spent selling wine. But they remedied that problem in 2012. My buddy Christian and I had not tipped a pint in a while, so a new brewery seemed in order.

Jackalope is owned by Bailey Spaulding and Robyn Virball. To my knowledge, Jackalope is among the few brewhouses in the Southeast run by women. Women in craft brewing are not so rare; Carol Stoudt has run the Stoudt's Brewery in Pennsylvania operations for 25 years, and Hildegard van Ostaden concocts the recipes for Urthel, a new but renown Belgian brewer. In the end, who makes the beer is not as important as what beers they make.

Despite a full parking lot, a sedate taproom awaited, with only a dozen patrons within its colorful walls. The brewmasters were friendly and informative. First up was the Drunken Highlander, their mainline Scottish ale (Hairy Highlander) plus eight days of aging in that once held Corsair Distillery Triple Smoke Scotch-Style Whiskey. When there's smoke in beer, there's fire. The barrel influence cannot be underestimated. Although it tastes appropriate for Scottish ale through the mid-palate, flavors sour through the finish: hop leaf, tobacco, iodine, peat, plus hints of vanilla and spearmint from the oak. The barrel influence drove this ale into some interesting territory. Jackalope also pours the non-barrel-aged version, which will wait for another visit. Too many Scottish ales blur the night quickly.

Christian and I both went for a paddleboard of samplers. With any new brewer, it's a better bet than getting stuck with 16 ounces of unappealing ale. Fortunately, all four brews were of high quality, and suitable for everyday drinking. First up was Bearwalker, a maple brown ale. The maple syrup was somewhat subdued

Then came Puck American Pale Ale, easily the class of the foursome. Unfiltered and hazy, Puck had the look of a hefeweizen. There was no mistaking Puck for the English pub favorite. The hops made it American through and through. The trio of lemon, orange and grapefruit dominate the wonderful nose and the surprising light body. Pubkc has plenty of grainy textures and enough New World hops to satisfy hopheads and haters alike. The beer has great balance and never caves into IPA instinct. Puck was APA at heart.

From there I moved onto the Rompo Red Rye, a fruit red rich led by mellow strawberry and lichee. Light in body and with a sweet, malty finish, this was not as overpowering as it could have been. I'll have to revisit it at some point.

The final ale was a Mild; fewer beer styles have greater need for a new name. But I awaited this ale the most. Milds provide flavor, depth and character with a low-alcohol content. One of my all-time favorites, Moorhouse's Black Cat, classifies as a mild, even though its roasted malt and slight kick of English hops amplifies the flavor beyond anything else at 3.4 percent ABV. Milds are the ultimate session ales, and Jackalope's version aspires to a similar role. A solid trace of hops sneaks in on the way to a

I hear Pharmacy Burger has a different Jackalope among its taps, so that might be the next one I hunt down. Jackalope sits around the corner from Yazoo on Eighth Avenue South in Nashville, and I would recommend the city help the newest resident of its growing brewery district. Leaving Jackalope I passed Yazoo, crowded as ever. Now that their hours have expanded, the brews from the ladies of Jackalope deserve a visit.

Hey Porter: A Little Ommegang Darkness

2012-01-27T10:00:00.001-06:00

"Ommegang Seduction Belgian-Style Porter"
Sampled: Jan. 25, 2012

Ommegang has released its limited edition experiments quite liberally in the past two years,
Ommegang and other brewers have adapted non-Belgian styles with Belgian yeast and spice. The only Belgian close was Sterkens Poorter, a strong Belgian ale that derives its name from the Flemish name the ending of serfdom (or something like that - but it isn't porter). Ommegang has free reign to experiment. As with recent limited brews like Aphrodite, Belgian-style porter goes far beyond adding a Belgian yeast strain to dark ale.

Roasted coffee and caramel textures coat the palate but leave room for the subtle but undeniable cherry twist. The inclusion of cocoa from Belgium's Chocolatier Callebut does not overload Seduction or turn it into a dessert beer. Aside from a few slivers throughout the body, the chocolate never challenges for dominance.As a result, Seduction avoids the artificial chocolate and cocoa powder flavors that sink many beers touting chocolate's inclusion.

The malt bill is long but interconnected (Pils, Caramel, Chocolate, Munich, Munich Caramel, Carapils). For bittering, Ommegang used just Perle hops. Liefmans Cuvee Brut Kriek gives the porter its cherry finish and complexity. Unless I've been staring at the sun too much, Seduction also sports a tiny bit of crimson in its frothy lace.The cherry flavor is mostly sublime. The blend kriek works as good if not better than fresh cherries.
At moments, Seduction's fruit profile reminds me of Boulevard's conservative use of cherries in its Bourbon Barrel Quad from 2009 -- they applied just enough fruit to influence the flavor. In Seduction, the blended fruit beer is slightly more assertive. At 6.8 percent ABV, itis eminently drinkable andapproachable. I would take it over Chocolate Indulgence, where the stout thickness and chocolate character get overwhelming.

With the cherry and other flavors, I found myself wishing a finger or two of sour ale would emerge. I'll keep hoping. Judging Seduction on its own merits, it succeeds in bridging the North Sea, giving an English-style porter a plethora of Belgian turns.

Hail to the hieroglyphics: Ta henket

2012-01-10T15:27:00.003-06:00

The label copies the oldest known depiction of the brewing process from ancient Egypt.

"Dogfish Head Ta Henket"

Sampled: Jan. 8, 2012

Dogfish Head has landed in Egypt with this ancient ale. Whoneeds hops when you have Za’atar, Doum Fruit, Emmer Farro’ and chamomile?

Sam Calagione traveled to Cairo to acquire an Egyptian saccharomyces yeast strain. The bulk of those strange ingredients are Middle Eastern herbs, and the fruit of the doum palm is a popular local delicacy in Egpyt. As usual, there are no half-measures with these guys.

A delightful lemon herb bouquet springs from the glass. Nohead, but plenty of effervescence bubbles in Ta henket’s golden-bronze body. Beneaththe herbs lurks some extremely dry fruit. It won’t last, taking some unexpectedturns that hearken to lush, pulpy fruits.

Some Belgian character, including some elusive estery notes,breaks into the picture, probably due to the free-range Egyptian yeast. Theround yet exotic fruit opens up splendidly on the palate. Ta Henket produces lots of passionfruit, including mango and papaya. Some burnt orange also sneaks in. The whole affair let me with a craving for doum fruit.

The finish has some grainy textures that close it well.Unlike the rest of the Ancient Ale series, Ta Henket could work as a sessionale – were its ingredients not so esoteric.

Catching Up Pt. 1

2012-01-10T14:30:00.002-06:00

A work deadline, a nighttime retail job and a crazy schedule can send a blog off the rails. here's to 2012, and to regular posting once again. Expect a glut of brew talk as I clear off my backlog.

Dogfish Head … Has ItGot a Little Story For You

"Pearl Jam 20Faithfull Ale"

Sampled: Dec. 23, 2011

Consider this Exhibit A in why Dogfish Head’s Tennesseedeparture annoyed me. Sam Calagione is a relentless experimenter and while Iseldom return to them, anything he produces deserves a shot. What the descriptionhas to do with Pearl Jam? Dogfish Head took a Belgian golden ale hopped to 20IBUs (as in 20^th anniversary) and during the brew process, made 10incremental additions (Ten as intheir breakthrough debut).

It’s a bit surprising that the Little DelawareBrewery That Could beat Seattle’s army of brewing companies to a beer honoringPearl Jam. Dogfish Head won't please hopheads, but anyone in need of a wrinkle in Belgian golden ales should look no further.

A bouquet of bone-dry bramble fruit emerges on the nose, asa lively thick head fades into a thin halo of lace. While the nose reminds meof other bramble fruit-infused wheat ales, the similarities end there. With FaithfullAle, Dogfish Head pours sublime, balanced ale. Just as the hops grow restlessand threaten to spoil the party, the angles for supremacy, leading it frommid-palate to finish. The currants throw a number of flavors, embellishing thefinale with a medicinal, herbal surge. It gains a slight vegetative edge, butnothing that impedes progress. The sharp yet velvety fruit tones play nice withthe hops, leaving the palate coated but not damaged. It reminds me of a moredrinkable take on Black & Blue, Dogfish Head’s berry-infused ale. I think Iprefer Faithfull.

Belgian-style golden is not the typical base beer for fruit,but a light hop level elevates the fruit. After a slew of reissues, tributesand a career-spanning documentary in 2011, Pearl Jam and its Faithfull fans deservea beer this enticing.

The Fragrant Hops of Christmas

"Full Sail Wreck the Halls 22"

Sampled: Dec. 24, 2011

Christmas beer season is in full session. Hood River’s localbrewer avoids tradition and continues its own. Hop oil and citrus burst from the glass. This won’t be theirfinal bow. The malts definitely present a little caramel but really, the hopsrun roughshod over them. Centennial hops drape their leafy textures over theentire affair. The citrus piles on, but in concentrated form – the oilinessnever relents, even as orange, grapefruit, lemon and persimmon notes rise andfall. Bitter orange (perhaps even a little blood orange) pervades. Through thecourse of a bomber bottle, the hop bouquet never gives the palate a rest. Dryand bitter, it builds a hophead’s paradise.

At 6.5 percent ABV, Wreck the Halls does not overpower, evenas its ingredients sometimes do. Hopheads should hunt it down. But anyone elseshould be content with a sole sample. It’s rough, bitter and rough around theedges, but possesses a certain Pacific Northwest charm.

Southern Blondes,Twice the Fun

“Wild HeavenInvocation”

Sampled: Dec. 26, 2011

Save Sweetwater and Red Brick, I haven’t sampled many Atlanta-brewed ales. Thisone caught my eye at aWhole Foods north of I285.

Invocation rings out nicely with a halo of cream, a hint ofesters and a solid coriander kick. A veneer of herbs and floral character breakin. Bright orange body looks typical for a Belgian blonde. The orange characteris a little rougher and burnt. At times, Invocation is more indicative of aBelgian tripel. But I won’t dawdle about labels. It’s burnt orange collideswith some veins of lemon and

Mouth-feel is exquisite. It comes with a slightly sharp hopedge, but nothing that sticks around. The label claims Noble and West Coasthops, giving it a degree of cover to what exactly went into the brew kettle. Theyadd a squiggle of oil unusual for this style. After it passes mid-palate, someleafiness emerges, but the IPA grapefruit and heavy dry floweriness never arise.

That’s the sound of me sighing in relief. Wild Heaven doesnot exceed its mandate and shower its Belgian-style golden with bushels ofhops. It enhances the style, doesn’t merely seek to plow over its predecessors.Invocation exhibits enough hop character to taste unique but not to feel likeBelgian-style IPA.

Behold, a (Colorado) PaleRider

"New Belgium Lips of Faith Belgian-Style Blond Ale"

Sampled: Dec. 26, 2011

I unexpectedly fonud this Lips of Faith favorite at theGeorgia Liquor Barn in Cumming. It did not return to Nashville for 2011. Giventhe lack of repeats in the Lips of Faith line, this bomber could have come fromthat batch. But I dove in. The nose comes off slightly earthy, with a bit of must andsome Belgian yeast-produced B vitamins. Perhaps it has spent a year on theshelf. Thin ice-cream head never wavers. The presentation is solid.

This Blond leans more toward lemon in the body, which couldbe mistaken for American lager (if you ignore the creamy head). Between theSaaz hops and the Styrian Goldings hops, the latter asserts itself more on thefinish, while the former helps to promote some pilsner textures within thebody. Both hop strains work well with the yeast, creating a highly drinkablestrong blond (8.5 percent ABV). Finish is rich with orange bitters.

Definitely not a session blond, New Belgium’s take is finefor a single sampling and strong enough to step in for Duvel or any of thedevilishly named pale Belgian ales.

Now for something truly old ...

Cutting the Cord

"Caldera Vas Deferens"

Sampled: Sept. 30, 2011

Beer naming has reached a new low. Well, this came as a surprise –albeit not as much as avasectomy would. I saw beer brewed with orange bitters and blood orange zestand expected a golden-orange ale. This beer has a burgundy body with a traceamount of citrus wedged into a creamy head. Vas Deferens blooms with lots ofmalt, emanating molasses and (you guessed it) bitter orange. Vas Deferens is atrue oddity, a beer lying somewhere between a dubbel and a tripel. The maltsand darkness signal a dubbel, but all the orange tones lead down a tripel road.It isn’t as heavy as a dubbel, but not as light as a dubbel.

The label should scare people away – brewed in “honor” ofthe brewmaster’s vasectomy, it depicts the devil biting through a pair of vasdeferens. Yeah, biting through -- it's one subtle bottle, which is why I forgot about the camera until this one disappeared into the recycling bin.

VasDeferens shines with a beautiful orange finish, with the blood orange zest ablybacked by the orange bitters. The bitter is actually nowhere to be found, justthe bitter. The orange blooms midway across the palate and never lets go. It’struly an impressive burst of flavor. Theorange finish is quite unlike any other beer, and that unique character helps this beer overcome its off-puttinglogo.

For anyone who ever found dubbels to heavy on chocolate,chicory and dark malt tones, this is the beer to seek out; the orange blots outthe initial malt darkness. At 8.1 percent ABV, Vas Deferens quickly reveals itsalcohol levels. The orange masks nothing. The label gives everything away. Notsomething I would commemorate in beer form, but I enjoy the experimentation.Belgian-style but Oregon made, Vas Deferens is more than a noble flop. Itsucceeds in bridging a gap betweendubbel and tripel that I don’t know needed a span.

Vas Deferens touts itself as a label not meant forreproduction or mass production. Iconcur. Caldera can chuck the name, but they traced a unique route with thisBelgian hybrid style

Breakroom Libations: New Feuillen, Old Dark Carolus Cuvee

2011-12-20T12:20:00.000-06:00

St. Feuillen Speciale

Sampled: Dec. 16, 2011

St. Feuillen holds a steady spot in the wild pack of Belgian Abbey Ales. It has grown more experimental in recent years, and one of its latest takes a fresh spin on Abbey Dubbels and holiday ales. St. Feuillen ages Speciale for a minimum of 6 weeks in coldtanks and 2 more weeks in the warm room. By cellaring it, St. Feuillen knocksoff many of the rough edges a younger strong ale might flash.

The effervescenthead sizzles down quickly, and the brown body opens up with flashes ofchocolate and sassafras inflected with spearmint. Cinnamon also crops up. Thefinish is dry and herbal, almost medicinal at times, a dimension I neverexpected.

At first, $15 seemed a little steep, but it’s Christmastime.The spice complexity propels the beer past normal Abbey-style Dubbels and makesit more interesting than most Christmas ales. The spice bouquet more thanvalidates the price of admission.

Gouden Carolus 2006Grand Cru of the Emperor

Sampled: Dec. 19, 2011

The cork twisted off with no fanfare, giving this augustbeer an almost silent opening. The crew at the wine store would be the onesmaking the noise. Cuvee van de Keizer Blau had arrived. Het Anker’s once-a-yeardark ale emerges into the light. As with many Belgian quadruple ales, it hasevolved significantly since disappearing to age into the darkness.

The sweetness is astonishing, but still drinkable. Often calledthe port wine of beers, Belgian quads take on those characteristics after a fewyears. The Grand Cru not only resembles port, but its sweetness veers into thesame cupboard as Calvados, the apply brandy aged for years in French limousineoak. Raisins rule the roost, accompanied by sprinkles of dates and figs. Creamytextures rise mid-palate and sail into the finish.

There’s a fine whiff of banana bread lurking in the browndepths, and its reasserts itself on the creamy finish. Five years afterbrewing, a bit of orange peel still resides within.

Forget the 10 percent ABV on the bottle; that bird flew along time ago. The brilliance of aging strong Belgian ales makes it irrelevant.This is beautiful ale, dark and faceted like a pricey gem.

I have sampled past vintages, including 2000, 2004, 2005 and2007, but this is the first I had aged under optimal conditions. It might be anodd tradition, but buying a Cuvee van de Keizer just to hide it for ahalf-decade delivers on its promise every time.

December Extremes

2011-12-19T15:20:00.002-06:00

Troeg’s Mad Elf Ale

Sampled: Dec. 18, 2011

After a season rich with my Christmas favorites, I decidedto try someone else’s. Troeg’s Mad Elf has emerged as a cult classic among manybeer aficionados. Mad Elf’s alcohol content is prohibitive to regular drinking(11 percent ABV). Brewed with honey and cherries, it lies on a differentspectrum from most Christmas ales. Its ruby body hints at the cherry character.The cherries assert themselves quickly, and the honey smooths out any tartcharacters. Other red fruits threaten to break out, but the cherries restrainthem.

The fruit is round and lush, pushing gently into the honey roundness. There’ssome sharpness and a little peppery character that slip through. The peppernever gains enough steam to derail the ale. The dry finish comes with somebitterness, but none I can link to hop content. As it warms in the glass, thepepper almost equals the honey and cherries.

Those masking agents are assertiveand keep the alcohol content under wraps. Almost no head or lace graces itscrown. Aromatic to a delightful degree, Mad Elf easily trumps the other Elfbeers creeping around the holidays. The twin bill of honey and cherriesdefinitely works wonders. Don't plan on more than one in a sitting (especially if you want to remember the sitting) butinclude Mad Elf in any holiday drinking plans.

Flowers in December:Goose Island Fleur

Sampled: Dec. 11, 2011

Goose Island’s entrancing series of Belgian-style ales goesfor the flowers. No head and little lace to mention, Fleur is undeniablyalluring. The nose perks up with some brettanomyces and a little flowerinesscharacter.

The cloudy orange body is stouter than I anticipated, with a heaviermalt payload. Perhaps it will fade over time, but my patience for light-colored,bottle-conditioned ales is limited. The label allows for five years, and itlast a solid six months. I am starting to have issues with hibiscus in beer, asit doesn’t always zip much less explore any new dimensions when added to thebrew kettle.

Unfortunately, Fleur never takes off. The hibiscus does not add much to the body, and the nose isthe most compelling feature. The wild yeast definitely pushes a medicinal andherbal accent onto the finish, but it’s hard to rationalize the $8 price tagbased on the unassertive character wedged between nose and finish. It getsmildly vegetative in the middle of the body.

The yeasty smudge on the bottle’sbottom shows the yeast has been at work, which the fine medicinal characterindicates. Maybe I should wait a little longer next time. However, I cannot putit on the same scale as Reinhart’s Wild Flemish Ale or Ommegeddon.

The River of Dreams, Pt. 2

2011-12-19T15:16:00.002-06:00

California Demon:Russian River Damnation

Sampled: Dec. 10, 2011

Russian River did not barrel age Damnation, but it did bringBelgium’s tradition of devilishly named golden ales to northern California.Kept under cork in a pint bottle, Damnation roars out with a stiff nose ofcitrus, Belgian-style yeast and a little clove (not anywhere near wheatDelerium Tremens displays, though).

Damnation’s finish couldn’t be crisper, with a bill ofmalted grain and cracked spices coating the palate. As much as I get bored withcoriander, that won’t happen here. The malt and the spice mingle too well forany complaints. An earthy character not unlike pine or spruce needles is burieddeep in that citrus body, a sign of the hops.

Bottle refermentation seems tosubmerge hops further, but there’s nothing going on that they are not missed. Thedevilish connotation owes something to the highly drinkable nature of ales likeDuvel and Sloeber, among others. Damnation joins the tradition, pouring downwith great ease.

As much as it reminds me of those, it could also pass for acousin of Westmalle Tripel, the dean of Belgian strong pale ales. Damnation’salcohol content is a little steep for everyday consumption (7.75 percent ABV).But for those of us without easy access, Russian River ales are akin to thatrare bottle of wine in the cellar. The special occasion arrives whenever youpop the cork.

Batch 70

Last Splash inRussian River: Temptation Barrel Aged Ale

Sampled: Dec. 11, 2011

Finally, I have arrived at the cork of Temptation. Thus endsmy tour of Russian River’s sour and Belgian-style ales for 2011. A steady dietof bubbles enlivens the glass. The lace barely barely clings to the pale goldenbody.

The nose erupts with banana, passion fruit and a mighty cidery mustiness.Aged in chardonnay barrels for nine to 12 months, Temptation quickly proveditself as otherworldly as Consecration and Supplication, the two otherdelectable sour ales. Try as I might to find fault with Russian River’s heavilylionized sour ales, I cannot – they are among the best North American ales andrichly reinterpret Flemish sours.

Temptation springs down a different pathfrom many sours. Temptation would steamroll most ciders in tartness. As withall the other Russian River ales, its sour character does not pummel thepalate. By using brettanomyces instead of lactobacillus, the mustiness isreplaced by tartness usually reserved for beers like Orval and Goose Island’sMatilda and Sophie. God, Temptation is purely sublime; the brett pushes it tounusual heights.

While golden like Damnation, they could not be less alike. Isee the use of chardonnay barrels as a necessary turn to greatness; pinot noirand Cabernet sauvignon barrels get all the attention, but blonde ale is anatural fit for chardonnay. Temptation is a little mellower than the darksours, but it should be. An easy fit for fans of brett-rich beers cannot missTemptation.

Not as Sexual as it Sounds: New Belgium Prickly Passion Saison

2011-12-12T10:42:00.000-06:00

Sampled: Dec. 9, 2011

New Belgium surprised the Grand Cru staff with Prickly Passion Saison, a late-seasonfarmhouse ale spiked with prickly pear and passion fruit juices.

The name hearkens toa male house cat’s (ahem) anatomical features for mating. But it is soon forgotten as the flavor takes over. New Belgium pours an effective NewWorld saison with some Old World yeast to help it along.

Lots of perfume eruptsfrom Prickly Passion. The zesty, estery French saison yeast amplifies the pearjuice and passion fruit on the nose. Guarded by a creamy lace, its effervescentlivens up the burnt orange body. The orange notes have enough rough edges toavoid saison complacency. With every pass, it remains mysterious.

On thefinish, a crisp saison spice twists into the creaminess Herbs and black pepper headline,with peaches, lemongrass and the prickly pears receiving extended cameos.

Icould have used a little bottle conditioning to really rough up PricklyPassion, but that would not fit most Lips of Faith beers. Not a traditionalsaison, Prickly Passion breaks a fair amount of new ground. Saison fans should findit a welcoming brew, as should anyone beholden to the livewire yeasts of Franceand Belgium.

A wealth of seasonals

2011-11-28T14:58:00.001-06:00

Sam Adams Black & Brew Coffee Stout

Sampled: Thursday, Nov. 10 and Wednesday, Nov. 16, 2011

Sam Adams’ Winter Classics always work best when theyinclude a new style.No one will confuse Black & Brew with Cranberry Lambic for character or quality. Black & Brew has the nose of a champion, a rich brewed coffeecharacter. Thanks to a dose of Sumatran blend, it smells fresh and potent. Aside from some residual roasted malt scents,the coffee dominates as it should in any good coffee stout. I don’t often gofor beers so beholden to one flavor, but damn, Sam Adams really strikes apowerful tone with the coffee.

Clingy brown lace follows the body all the way down theglass. The inky body supports a heavy dose of coffee; it runs rich and deep.Flavors like chocolate and toffee also cut in. They create an interestingdichotomy as oily and dry characters meet each other head on. Moreso than moststouts, especially coffee varieties, Black & Brew tastes fresh and lively –almost unbelievably fresh. The roast throws off vibrant notes of hazelnut,almond and cocoa beans. It reminds me of old vintage of Terrapin’s Wake N BankImperial Coffee Oatmeal Stout. But Black & Brew weighs in at a moredrinkable 5.8 percent ABV.

Sam Adams has produced plenty of fun and intricate dark alesthroughout the years – Cream Stout and Honey Porter come to mind. Coffee Stoutshould join them and gain a spot in in Brewmasters Collection – provided itdoes not lose any of its potency, a fear when any beer like this gets brewed ingreater quantities.

New Belgium Lips of Faith: Fresh Hop IPA

Sampled: Nov. 24, 2011

The nose is all flowers and cream. Beneath the cream, Lipsof Faith Fresh Hop simmers with fruity notes of lemon, apple and grapefruit. Thebody reminds me strongly of Sierra Nevada’s Northern Hemisphere Harvest, a beerrich in oil and grassy textures. The body begins light and viscous then takes astarkly bitter turn.

Lips of Faith Fresh Hop includes Cascade, Centennial, andAmarillo hops, all added to the brew kettle within 24 hours of picking. Thecreamy head performs a nice opening act. I believe the Amarillo and Cascadehops push to the front, because they continue straight past the finish. There’san oily, lemon tea feel to the whole affair, which largely works. The bitterfinish does not linger in the fashion I’ve come to expect from many a bad IPA.

Give New Belgium respect for truth in advertising – too manyfresh hop ales are IPAs masquerading as lighter ales. Lips of Faith definitelyproduced an IPA. Its 7 percent ABV fits just right, and while the IPA sometimesthreatens to overwhelm the palate, it does not get that far. It’s solid for a one-off blast of hops, butdon’t expect this small-batch series to produce an everyday fresh hop ale.They’re seasonal, and should remain so.

A Virus Ate My Homework: Short Take on Seattle's La Mesa Negra

2011-11-18T09:52:00.001-06:00

Computer virus destroyed my review of this lovely mild sour brown from Seattle.

Well, my planned review of Las Mesa Negra Ale fell through. As the last beer standing from my Seattle trip, I awaited the chance for a local sour from a brewer as reputable as Epic Ales.

My review was typed and ready for publishing, then a computer virus ripped through laptop. So long tasting notes.

While the gushing of that document is lost, I did save some general notes. This Epic Ales concoction falls into the middle on sours, fostering nice cidery and musty characters that flares at the second half of a fresh brown ale.

La Mesa Negra, or "The Black Table," gets sour in a hurry. It reminded me of the sour character I encountered in a Fantome Noel (that could have been accidentally spiked with lactobacillus). La Mesa Negra's sour notes grow from a solid base into a more assertive character. Definitely not for a first-time sour drinker, anyone familiar with the style should find it refreshing.

Two Twists From Terrapin

2011-10-18T09:40:00.000-05:00

Not a pit to be found: Terrapin Peaotch
Sampled: Oct. 16, 2011

Really, isn’t it about time one of Georgia’s most experimental brewers crafted a beer with peaches?The fourth beer in Terrapin’s Midnight Project brings Georgia and Colorado peaches into the brew kettle of an ale that runs 7 percent ABV. Terrapin collaborated with Left Hand Brewing from Colorado to produce a fine strong fruit ale. It doesn’t have the flash of the sours out there.

However, I would argue it does not need any extras, not with the amazing fruit profile layered over a strong ale. The nose could be mistaken for a southern produce market in late summer. The peach flavor is laidback but thick above a wispy, bubbling lace. The body is quite clean and transparent with a golden-orange hue. The fruit demonstrates perfect pitch, never overwhelming any other character. Beyond a gentle maltiness that backs up the peaches, few flavors assert themselves.

I struggled to find any hops at all, but Peaotch does not need them. Using one fruit does not limit the ale’s complexity. There is plenty of lemon, mango and splinters of honey emerging from the peach. The richness of the passion fruit sets Peaotch apart. The peach character’s full force creates an exquisite finish, almost completely obscuring the alcohol with an aftertaste wholly consistent with eating a peach. Seriously, I almost tasted pulp.

Rarely do fruit beers match their ingredients with such grace. Not a sour like New Belgium Eric’s Ale or Dogfish Head’s Festina Peche which takes Berlinerweisse in drastic new directions, Peaotch goes its own path and does fine crafting a strong ale with a dominated by peaches.

My only regret is discovering Peotch in mid-October when its bright peachy character would have excelled in summertime. Maybe it will sneak into the seasonal lineup of Left Hand or Terrapin sometime in 2012.

Challenger in the Unknown: Terrapin’s Fresh Hop Experiment
Sampled: Oct. 16, 2011

Another from Terrapin’s SideProject series, this is a much-needed fresh hop ale from the southern U.S. Fresh hop is a unique experience, and checking out the hops of different regions shows how no two freshhop ales are alike. Brewed with 2011 Challenger hops, So Fresh & So Green, Green is more rounded than Sierra Nevada Northern Hemisphere Harvest. It is oily but the body smooths out near the end; the hops form a slightly leafy, gently bitter conclusion. That So Fresh & So Green, Green has a long conclusion with many goodbyes is a welcome change.

Despite the fresh odors, I detect none of the overwhelming grassiness, petrol and lemon present in more assertive fresh hop ales. There’s some red fruit, some mellow apple and a nice herbal backdrop to the whole ale. Initially I thought came to this one too late. Terrapin released So Fresh & So Green, Green has but Challenger is not a punchy, in-your-face hop. Challenger might not have the oomph of what I expected for a $9 bomber.

Challenger hops can work in almost any English ale – especially English bitters - but the big complaint here is they don’t challenge the palate enough. It is far from unpleasant, but never pushes boundaries the way I expected. After a few sips, a little bitter hop burn emerges. I’ll gladly revisit So Fresh & So Green, Green has when it reappears. Fresh hops are in the eye of the beholder. Terrapin earns points for using a less obvious hop for its experiment.

River of Dreams: First Thoughts on Russian River Brewing

2011-10-13T08:42:00.003-05:00

I’m sure beer nerds far and wide will scoff at my recent introduction to Russian River Brewing from Santa Rosa, deep in Sonoma County wine country. Let them scoff; this was the first opportunity, and I took it.

I have longed for their experimental brews but finally obtained a few back in September. Only by visiting Seattle could I get a sample of beers considered legendary east of the Rockies.

When the clerk at the Beer Connection pointed out they had none of Pliny the Elder or Pliny the Younger, Russian River’s infamous strong IPAs, I wasn’t worried. On their shelves I saw the simple labels of Russian River's heralded barrel-aged brews. Sold in 375 ML bottles with corks for about $10 each, they price was fair for aged beer and the presentation was perfect.

They deserved the right occasion. After a rough day with an ill cat, the time for one of my Russian River brews arrived.

Consider me Consecrated On the advice of a friend, I saved the Supplication for another day, and went with the brew more intriguing to my palette. I had long heard of Consecration, sour ale aged in Cabernet Sauvignon barrels with currants and re-fermented in a 375-mL corked bottle.

Extremely effervescent, tight columns of bubbles fly up to form an island of lace that continually regenerates. Somewhat cidery and musty (Do I detect the hint of cobwebs in the corners of the brewery cellar?), fruit quickly takes over. However, that only augments Consecration. The body burns ruby with burgundy overtones.

A husky sour, Consecration is worthy of the underused fruit and stronger than most at 10 percent ABV. Not overpoweringly sour, I believe the fruit mellows the sour tones. Currants rarely get any press outside of lambic, and the sour base and fruit additions to Consecration would qualify it as a strong lambic. Fortunately, it continues to defy easy classification. The fruit and the barrel aging bump against each other; the ale has inherited traits of both.

The pucker arrives, threatening to run away with itself, then it contracts, leaving little aftertaste but currants of traces of Cabernet. A glorious brown fruit afterglow and hint of sour remain.

Consecration dances warmly on the lips once the last sip has vanished. In Belgium or anywhere, no one brews ale quite like Consecration.

Nothing Humble About Supplication
Significantly lighter than Consecration at 7 percent ABV, Supplication is by no means a session sour, but God bless, it throws the whole style into new dimensions.
With cherries added, other fruits come along.

Supplication has a nose and initial flavor of browner fruits such as pear and date, but the main course quickly envelopes them. Plenty of strawberry, with a mousse-like touch, creeps in, giving it a facet similar to Rose Champagne. Russian River wisely adds yeast in the bottle, allowing Supplication to expand its horizons while stored in a dark place. All the flavors are sharp. They merely end exactly when they need to back off.

Not as musty as Consecration, the lace sticks around for a long while. The sour does not peel away layers of enamel, but it is potent. Definitely reminiscent of Rodenbach Grand Cru and other red sours, Supplication charts its own course. The massive wall of strawberries, cherries and cream bursts forth unlike anything so light on hops.

The cream could be one of the most sublime characters in any beer I have tasted. It is never obnoxious, always nuanced and better for its slight restraint.
The beauty of both beers lies in the finish. Without adding dry hops or anything but fruit, they produce memorable finishes that don’t overstay any welcome.

Cherries meld so well with the lactobacillus in the sour beer that neither amplifies the sour character. The cherry radiates those other fruit notes and Supplication benefits for those surprise complexities.

I can report that Russian River’s sour ales stand among the best of class. Unique and flush with character not always evident in sour, it’s the rare cult beer that exceeds the high standard set by rumor.

Starting October On a Heavy Note

2011-10-03T14:32:00.002-05:00

Stone-Cold Brilliant: Escondidian Imperial Black IPA
Sampled: Oct. 2, 2011

Brewed for Stone's 15th anniversary, there's nothing shy about Escondidian Imperial Black IPA. It's every bit as complex as its tongue-twister of a name, but surprisingly drinkability puts it at the summit of the black IPA movement.

The nose erupts with piney textures and spruce tips. Combined with a hint of spearmint and even anise, Stone Escondidian Imperial Black almost singes the nose. Those flavors mingle effortlessly with a conclusion of dark chocolate. Never has an IPA hit me so hard, especially a black one. The head runs thick and creamy while the body is opaque. This is one of the most fragrant, unforgettable noses I’ve ever tasted on any beer without fruit.

I once thought Stone’s 11th anniversary ale, a black IPA later added to the regular lineup as Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale, pushed the boundaries. But Escondidian Imperial Black IPA goes to the brink. Stone puts forth a brilliant bill of roasted malt. The body is thick and luxurious, totally unlike most IPAs. Dark notes unload with chocolate, espresso and a dozen other familiar flavors backing them up.

Not usually a fan of huge hop payloads, Stone pushes its dry-hopping techniques to an unbelievably smooth extreme. The oiliness of the hops blends perfectly with the roasted malts. At 10.5 percent ABV, Stone bred a beast crawling in complexity and amazingly drinkable for anything labeled “imperial.”

Some flickers of spearmint break into the finish. Escondidian Imperial Black is literally unlikely any IPA, black or otherwise, on the market. Cheers to Stone for going inventive with its annual experiment. Sometimes they have resorted to hop bombs to commemorate, and this one doesn’t succumb to any pitfalls.

Stone encouraged beer geeks to drink this one fresh, but it is also bottle-conditioned, leading me to wonder how it will develop. The hop brilliance will certainly diminish, but I am curious where it will end up.

This could be the dark complement to Avery’s Maharajah Imperial IPA. Stone might never make it a regular brew, but such flavor power and complex ingenuity should be enjoyed in its moment. It won’t last, so grab it now since the chance might not come again.

They can’t all be positive: Sprecher Pipers Scotch-style Ale
Sampled: Oct. 2, 2011
On a weekend when fall temperatures settled over Nashville, a taste of the North Country seemed appropriate. Dark, creamy and roughly burgundy-brown in body, Wisconsin’s Sprecher goes for a malt-bomb with its Scotch-style ale that cannot recover with help of an additional dose of hops.

It doesn’t break from the Scotch-style template, but Sprecher does a quality job. Molasses with slivers of chocolate define the body. There’s an immense wall of malt arriving just before the finish, which is overwhelmingly bitter and broken by pepper created by the alcohol content (8.3 percent – you knew I would get to it). There’s a plug of tobacco wedged into that finish and it does not work for me.

The malt wall is a tough hurdle, I’m afraid. It unleashes a load of caramel and toffee, but I find myself craving more diversity. The flavors are there, but in a fragmented way. I wish they would coalesce. Pipers left me wanting. As much as I enjoyed their lower-alcohol beers, Pipers Scotch ale cried out for more structure.

September 2011 Beer Dispatch: Seattle, Portland and Coastal Stops

2011-09-19T15:21:00.010-05:00

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.

Chuck's and Labor Day Saisons

2011-09-16T12:14:00.001-05:00

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.

Saison Season

2011-08-13T14:11:00.003-05:00

Heartland Heavyweights: Apricot Au Poivre Saison
Nebraska Brewing Company
August 12, 2011

Lots of pepper rises from the nose, but refreshingly, it isn’t alcoholic pepper. The common lemon of saison is muted by the apricots used in brewing. Cream rises up from the ice-cream-thick lace.

The body is barely malty and very clean. The apricot nudges at the palate, never assaulting it. The fruit profile is off the charts for a saison. Hops are nonexistent. Fruit is everywhere, mostly orange, pineapple, lemon and a tangerine backing up the apricot. It’s sometimes amazing how the introduction of one fruit can add so many facets to an ale. A nice burn of pepper and sharper apricot rises on the finish, coating the palate in tart fruitiness. Their use of actual apricots and no puree impacts the flavor immensely. Puree cannot compete.

The apricot really rounds out the saison characters. A lot of the roughness native to other brewers’ versions melts away thanks to the fruit. Nebraska Brewing aged this in chardonnay barrels, a welcome change from craft brewing’s man-crush on whiskey barrels. That contributes to the roundness of this ale; the fruit could easily run off the rails, but barrel aging and bottle conditioning improve its already drinkable nature. Apricot Au Poivre turns a little sour at times, but never unpleasant.

Apricot beers receive faint attention. Nebraska Brewing makes a statement for their presence in saisons. I must quibble with the price ($18.99 for a capped 750 mL). Ingredients like fresh apricots and tools such as chardonnay barrels don’t come cheap.

However, I cannot argue with an excellent, innovative saison, especially from Nebraska.

Unloading on Ovila: Sierra Nevada Ovila Saison
Sampled: Aug. 4, 2011
This is the second ale in Sierra Nevada’s Ovila series, which will benefit a reconstructed abbey in California, making these technically abbey ales produced in America. Despite its attempt at a rarity, Sierra Nevada clearly copies an American classic. I’m starting to doubt Sierra Nevada’s Trappist-inspired series, if only because I’ve tasted this ale before. Hundreds of times before; Ovila Saison could be cloned directly from Ommengang Hennepin’s recipe.

The nose is rich in burnt citrus above a creamy mousse, with hints of pepper and other herbs. It drinks pretty close to Hennepin, albeit at a slightly lower alcohol content (7 percent ABV). Grainy textures emerge in a body which at times seems exceedingly light. Lots of lemon permeates the body. It doesn’t really advance the bouquet’s flavors in the way I expected it to. The finish grows crisper as the pours continue. Very dry, the finish almost crackles like crushed grain on the tongue.

While part of Sierra Nevada’s well-meaning series to bring a Trappist abbey to California, I can’t shake the similarities to Hennepin, one of my favorite beers.

Sierra Nevada might have created a well-mannered clone. If given the choice, I’ll stick with my Hennepin for $2 less a bottle, unless a later sample changes my opinion. But I cannot shake that Hennepin taste in Sierra Nevada clothing.

Paddle Hard Toward Upstream Brewing

2011-08-11T08:35:00.009-05:00

The rain eased up on Omaha, and I took to Farnam Street. Thirty-five quiet blocks later, I turned into the Old Market, Omaha's downtown gem. The historic district's covered sidewalks and brick buildings hearken to a different era, and firmly establish Omaha's roots as more Western than Midwestern. Narrowing my eyes, it wasn't hard to envision horse-drawn carriages trotting through muddy streets and merchants peddling their wares.

The old firehouse now housed the Upstream Brewing Company, one of Omaha's best established craft breweries. The details are similar to most big city brewpubs doubling as restaurants - except for the playing cards affixed to the ceiling. On this slow-paced Friday, the bartender was friendly and eager to talk about the beer lineup. Upstream touted six regular handles, five seasonal beers and a cask-aged selection (on this day, a pale ale).

Every brewer has a pale, a wheat, an IPA and lager these days, so I dug into Upstream's seasonal lineup. The seasonal beers include the Brewers' Whim, a more experimental series of beers.

I began with the Brewers' Whim Saison du Crue, which translates to "season of high water," and was named for this summer's brutal Missouri River flooding. With a creamy head and surprisingly assertive hop bill, Saison du Crue offers a bouquet of floral tones anchored by a sweet lemon. The use of rye malt dries out the palate pleasantly while lending an additional zip to the grains of paradise. Saison du Crue has the scent of freshly cracked grains that runs from first whiff to finish. The grains support the herbal tones through the mid-palate, where the malt really bursts out. It's powerful, drinkable and utterly unique among the other saisons I've drank. At a session-level alcohol content (5.8 percent), it could have been the saison of my dreams.

Up next was Vilshofen Pils, Upstream's seasonal lager. I find pilsner extremely hard style to nail; most American brewers overdo it with the hops or pump up their alcohol content to create double or imperial pilsner. But sometimes only a fresh pils with crisp hops and fresh grain will suffice. Upstream uses Magnum and Hallertau hops to ensure an appropriate hop level, not an overwhelming one. The dry close is almost searing at times, but it's when paired with such fine sizzles of grain. Vilshofen was mostly straight ahead, but a perfect summer quencher

With a 3.5-mile walk ahead of me, I turned to a few samplers to round out my Upstream excursion. I couldn't skip the Nebraska Coffee Stout, which reminded me of the better breakfast stouts produced in the Midwest. Upstream based the ale on Iowa Coffee, a cocktail made primarily from Templeton Rye Whiskey. The bouquet pushes out a rich coffee character that runs through the entire beer. Combined with lactose introduced in the brew kettle, the Sumatra coffee builds a steady vein of vanilla that rounds the stout character. The use of rye malts is curious, but gives this stout a very different profile. Not as heavy as its 8 percent ABV would indicate, Nebraska Coffee Stout was a reward but different brand of wake-up juice.

The final beer probably should have come first, but I chose to treat Raspberry Lager as a sweet spot of dessert. Light as a feather, this was true crowd-pleasing beer. A muted pink in body, the fruit develops on the back end. Notes of watermelon, lemon and tart citrus develop, fleshing out the raspberry. nothing is overbearing, and this fan of fruit beers would have liked the raspberry came on a little stronger. The use of raspberry puree instead of actual fruit might have contributed to the lighter fruit character. At 3.8 percent, it's fine for non-beer drinkers looking for something light, but inappropriate for hopheads or even those familiar with Abita's remarkable fruity efforts.

More handles remained, but I had to depart Upstream or risk wandering through downtown Omaha inebriated at 1 p.m. Upstream one last card to play. I bought a corked bottle of Grand Cru brewed in 2007 and barrel aged for a year. The Old Market brewery showed chops at session beers and strong ales, so I'm anxious to see what type of Grand Cru emerged from that barrel.

Dispatches From Omaha

2011-08-10T12:12:00.007-05:00

Not all Omaha drinking was done around town. Much of the sampled came at the Athens brownstone on Farnam. Everything reviewed here was purchased at Beertopia, the city's finest beer-only retailer (also on Farnam). My first brew from Beertopia was a Quebec biere du miel that tasted like a Scotch ale or Belgian Dubbel brewed with honey and spices. But alas, its name has fled, so no review. But Belgian and Belgian-style ales were everywhere, with brewers eagerly willing to experiment. Here are two Belgian-style medal winners (in my mind) that I encountered in Omaha.

Boulevard Collaboration No. 2: White IPA
With their sad departure from Nashville in 2010, I missed the latest of Boulevard's big beers from its Smokestack Series. The second entry in the collaboration series finds Boulevard working with Oregon's Deschutes Brewery to create white IPA, marrying the malts of Belgian white ales and an IPA's hops to create a new style in contrast to the black IPAs craft brewers keep churning out.

Did I mention how wildly they succeeded? An intensely dense head follows a bright herbal, floral nose. The brewers use lemongrass and sage to complement the normal wit spices of coriander and orange peel. White IPA finishes extremely dry and floral, with hints of chamomile and rougher spices behind it. The tremendous bouquet is unlike any other beer.

The breweries worked off a common recipe but each produced a version for its own label. In four weeks, the hunt begins for Deschutes' take on white IPA. I can only hope it is unique and drinkable as the Kansas City-brewed batch.

IV Saison: Brassierie Jandrain-Jandrenouille

Sampled: August 7, 2011
European saisons occasionally fall into a taste rut. They toss in the same spices and if allowed to age, turn into geysers of foam that smell like an overdose of B vitamins.

Not so with IV Saison, the closest thing I've tasted to the best domestic saison, Hill Farmstead's Arthur. The nose is ripe with coriander and hops, with the creamy lace hinting at some dry-hopping.

Amazingly fresh for an import, it crackles with the coriander and a bedrock of other spices. The 750 mL capped bottle has no date details, leaving no clues as to how it could pour so fresh. Very light in body, it sports a strangely enjoyable vegetative character. IV Saison undoubtedly shows the influence of American craft brewers on traditional Franco-Belgian styles.

The creamy lace envelopes a lemon-citrus body that gains strength due to lemon and grains of paradise shining on the finish. It's only 6.5 percent and very easy drinking. Stumbling onto IV Saison makes me want to immediately hunt down I, II and III. Previously unsampled, Jandrain-Jandrenouille pours superb depth behind its simple beer names.

Living on Lambic: Boon 2007 Geuze and 2008 Kriek

2011-08-04T09:14:00.005-05:00

Two of Boon's higher alcohol lambics landed at the Cru this week, and I couldn't contain myself. Normally sour beers and fruit lambics don't approach the alcohol content at which we can sell beer. The results were mixed, but at least one will earn a repeat visit.

Boon Kriek 2008 reminds me of a less carbonated version of Casteel Rouge. The rich cherry flavor obviously dominates while the sour backbone creeps in mid-palate and never wavers. It does not linger on the mouth. I can't stomach cherry ales on a regular basis, but believe Boon Kriek 2008 hits a few marks.

Boon Geuze 2007 is a little weirder and better for its quirks. The nose is brilliantly sour --- musty barnyard tones on a bed of cidery yeast. Boon also wedged in some lemon zest and grains of paradise. The body speaks to an older beer -- Boon does not blend this geuze but lets it sit for three years in oak barrels.

As it warms in the glass, the sour character gains strength. By going strictly with older lambic, I believe Boon produced a mellower version. Cantillon blends one-, two- and three-year-old lambic in its Geuze and it's a beautiful puckerfest.

Boon 2007 does not reach that height, but it shows obvious marks of wild yeasts and lactobacillus. Severely burnt orange flavors collide with a mildly sour burst that never crests at the epic levels. As much as sours have become the toast of beer lovers, I do tire of the relentless pucker some produce. This one suits me fine.

Boon serves up a nice introductory sour, which should suit those of us who don't want every sour ale to steal a layer of enamel from our teeth.

Scotch Ales Suitable For Summer

2011-07-15T15:47:00.003-05:00

Asheville is a brewing mecca of the Eastern U.S. Situated in North Carolina's "Highlands," their explorations into Scotch ale seem appropriate.

In full disclosure, I must mention now that neither of these possesses the heft of Sam Adams Wee Heavy, the peat-smoked 10 percent monster.

Both perfectly fit the bill for a strong, malty ale, even in the middle of summer. I drink both when the temperatures soared.

Highland Tasgall Ale
Sampled: April 23, 2011

If there's one style this brewery owes its devotees, it's Scotch ale. Its Highlands are the Blue Ridge Mountains, but those peaks are a solid domestic surrogate the the Scottish Highlands.

The nose is luxurious malt, with fingers of molasses, banana, chocolate, anise and caraway seed all mixed in. All of them are subdued by the splendid run of smoked malt. There's no peat to upset the balance.

Not as hoppy as I expected, Tasgall finishes with a clean citrus bite and an oily texture wedged between coffee tones created by the malt. By going with Sterling hops instead of something sharper and North American, Highland does not let a higher concentration of hops derail its Scotch ale.

Tasgall runs 8 percent, making it hard to recommend as a daily libation. Certainly it deserves attention from those who appreciate the complexities upon which Scotch ales thrive.

French Broad Wee Heavy-er
Sampled: July 14, 2011

The irony of drinking a French Broad on Bastille Day was not lost on me, evne if the name comes from the river running through Asheville. The nose sports plenty of molasses, chocolate, coffee and caramel. An oily character emerges early in the brunette body. The roasted malt flavors break through and impact a few puffs of smokiness, but nothing to suggest hours over a robust fire. It finishes quite crisp on the palate, without a suggestion of hop strength.

The brewery's most popular ale, its name and the angry Scottish guy on the label hoisting the world both imply something more monstrous. At 7 percent, this Scotch ale is almost session-worthy.

As it warms in the glass, some raisins and dates creep into the flavor profile. It has almost no aftertaste, but a gentle creaminess coats the mouth. More Scotch ales should take note of that final point.

Cleaning Out My Notebook

2011-07-05T08:47:00.017-05:00

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.

Collaboration Blondes Have More Fun: Gnomegang

2011-06-09T08:01:00.003-05:00

True Belgian-Style Golden Ale
Sampled: June 8, 2011

Stick two of my favorite brewers on one label, then watch me salivate. This collaboration ale from Ommegang and Brasserie d’Achouffe barely lasted a week in my collection. The actual collaboration is not surprising - Duvel Moortgat owns both A'Chouffe and Ommengang. The presentation is appropriate - Ommengang's standard label design, with d'Achouffe's signature gnome standing in the giant 'O'.

Acquired in Ohio (as with all my limited edition Ommegangs), the two set out to produce a golden ale. At 9.5 percent, it ranks with Brasserie DuPont's Avec Les Bons Voeux in alcohol strength. The body is deep orange, and the nose rich with spices. Combining the yeast strains of both breweries with two noble hop types and five malts, it’s a peculiar blonde ale, more Westmalle Tripel than Grimbergen Blonde.

The bitter character grips the palate with a strain of lemon atop a pile of bitter orange. A slice of passion fruit cuts between the finish and the bright orange body. Esters lies everywhere and a dose of fresh B vitamins fills out the spaces. It balances well with the bitter closing.

Gnomegang succeeds based on the yeasts. There are some fruit turns that I cannot easily describe. They help this ale veer away from becoming a Westmalle Tripel clone. That is not a bad formula to copy, but the brewing prowess of Ommegang and d’Achouffe overcomes any similarities in the recipes.

At 9.5 percent ABV, consider Gnomegang armed and dangerous. But it adds a new chapter to the expansive tome of Belgian golden ales.

Knock Any Time: Tommyknocker Golden Saison

2011-06-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

Sampled: June 6, 2011

Tommyknocker quietly produces solid stylistic brews with an individualistic streak, so I eagerly grabbed a pint bottle. The nose is rich with lemon, mango and pear, embellished with a sour sizzle. I didn’t expect to see that rare attribute emerge from the esters.

With round fruit tones wedged between the esters, this is bold, American saison. It lacks the gritty grip of Belgian and French originals, but more than compensates with a rich fruit and a vein of sour brightness. It meshes well with the unpredictability of the saison yeast’s esters. The spices began more apparent with each sip, but they have a cleanliness that somehow works with the fruit flavors here. Tommyknocker blends four Belgian yeast strains and it works wonders. The Perle hops are barely present but for a moment of bittering.

This Golden Saison rules its own territory. As long as the heat reins, it’s an affable, complex quaffer.

Juniper Joy: Rogue John John

2011-06-03T21:51:00.002-05:00

Rogue John John Ale
Sampled: June 4, 2011

A Nashville customer repeatedly asked about this Rogue brew. It never arrived in the market, so I obtained my sample in Columbus. Named for the Oregon operation’s brewmaster and spirit master (they distill as well), John John takes pale and livens it up with juniper berries and aging in spruce gin barrels. Head fizzes down to a fine layer of creamy lace. John John Juniper is the second in its series of brewery/distillery collaborations.

The juniper pushes out of the floral nose. It tempts me to expect a hoppy beer, but John John swerves elsewhere. Thanks to Rogue’s notes, I knew to look for cucumber, and on the nose and front of the palate, I definitely sense some cucumber flesh (no bittern skin, though).

Bone dry, all the way through, with orange and mango flourishes arises. A tiny bit of barrel contact creeps in as it finishes. There’s definitely a strain of brett lurking deep in here, whether intentional or not, it meshes well with the passion fruit and citrus.

I want to root out some rye in this ale, but this is no sahti. The malts have staggering scope. I know the Pacman yeast frustrates some palates, but I appreciate the way it navigates all these flavors which could go awry when combined. This is not a novelty, but a perfect ale for a summer as nasty as this.

Call it another fruit ale triumph for Rogue. For people who avoid this brewer, the Chatoe Rogue series and victories like John John should earn a reappraisal. Their commitment to local ingredients produces exhilarating ales.

Milling Around Milly's Tavern

2011-05-13T14:41:00.003-05:00

(Blogger's note: After five days of photos, my camera battery lost all its charge, so no photos of Manchester. I left the charger at home. It's a drag, I know).

For local beer in Manchester, I had only one choice. After dropping off my rental car, a taxi took me from the airport to Milly’s Tavern, the only brewpub in Northern New England's largest city. It sat in the basement of a restored building along the Merrimack River, among the former mills that cut a marvelous image for the city.

Its innocuous entrance gave no indication of the bar inside. It was a monster, capable of holding a few hundred people without violating fire codes. The gargantuan bar had more than a dozen taps and some of the brewing operation directly behind it.

For all their handles, I started with Manchester Mild. If a brewer can master this underrated, poorly named style, they can product almost anything. To me, mild is the ancestor of porter and stout; it usually has a dry, roasted character, dark malts and a low alcohol content. Manchester Mild crests at 3.7 percent ABV. Slightly bitter, its dry creaminess almost turns sweet before finishing smooth and viscous. Milly's went for authenticity, brewing with East Kent Golding hops and London ale yeast. If I could drink it regularly, this could have been my dark session ale of choice.

After Manchester Mild, I waded into General John Stark Dark Porter. The mild skewed my sample General Stark; it tasted like a heavier, less carbonated version of Manchester Mild. It had a more prominent molasses character on the front end, a gentle creaminess, and almost no bitterness on the finish. Which one to choose is a matter of individual tastes. I’d go mild, because you could still be drinking it long after burning out on porter.

Amoskeag Harvest Ale was a copper/amber ale, comfortably bitter with a hop profile that barks but never bites. The malts don't aspire to change the world, but they don't have to. At 4.8 percent ABV, it could please the taste buds thought a few sessions.

At this point I entered the experimental part of the visit. Milly's brewed three lambics that bore little resemblance to the ultra-fruity Belgian classics.

Blueberry Lambic was the clear winner at Milly’s, and quite possibly the fruit beer I've wanted my whole life. Wheat malt based with a wild year, the Blueberry Lambic takes an undeniably sour twist as it finishes. The sour character rattles up, disrupting the smooth blueberry landscape. Muddy pineapple in color, it’s loosely lambic, but mostly great beer. On a bet, I would drink nothing else for an entire summer.

The Raspberry Lambic bore no resemblance to Belgian framboise – here, here! It pours paler than the blueberry and aside from a deviant year, has little to link it to any lambic. The sour conclusion owes a debt to the yeast, and a far more conservative use of raspberry produces a drastically different ale. The wheat creates a fine lemon-orange citrus to push against the raspberry, pushing it further down the spectrum from Purple Haze and other raspberry beers. The ale has a raspberry boost on the finish that complements the sour tang.

They had a cranberry lambic in honor of the region’s other famous fruit. After years of watching Sam Adams Cranberry Lambic outlast the rest of the Holiday Classics by weeks and months, I had little desire for another, no matter how different it might have been.

By brewing Northern New England lambics, Milly’s served as the right capstone to five days of local beer and small producers.

North Conway's Finest Pints: Moats Mountain Smokehouse & Brewery

2011-05-12T08:31:00.000-05:00

Moats Mountain won me over with a simple blueberry ale, by which I mean a complex, tart blueberry wheat. The brewery and smokehouse came on my radar as the perfect stopping point between a morning in the White Mountains and an afternoon on the Kancamagus Highway.

After passing the Mount Washington lookout, Moats Mountain fit snugly among the roadside restaurants targeting tourists lured by summer and snow. The brewing operation did not overshadow the restaurant with its massive comfort food menu. No matter the beer, I couldn't skip bison quesadillas.

Nor could I skip Violet B's Blueberry, Moats Mountain's summer wheat. Ales brewed with fresh blueberries and huckleberries are a longtime guilty pleasure, and a staple of summer, even in early May. It was helped by my ability to see both the brewery's grain sacks and Mount Washington from my seat.

Violet B's has a wheat malt profile that flashes signs of lemon and clover before cloak of blueberry descends. A few fingers of lemon reappear throughout the blueberry veneer just before the dry finish. The flavors complement each other thoroughly. Every New England brewer seems to drop a blueberry beer in summer. Moats Mountain has the White Mountain region covered before the snow finishes melting.

Moats Moutain's Czech Pilsner finally returned me to the elusive, fresh pilsner I craved ever since I visited Germany, Austria and the Czech Republic. Forget all the awful skunkiness that ruins Pilsner Urquell, Czechvar, and everything else imported in green glass bottles. Also forget about the American brewers who feel that every pilsner must be (ahem) improved with a fragrant, citrus hop or should be brewed to 9 percent ABV. This is just everyday pilsner, but fresh, bubbly pilsner like few poured domestically. It features a crisp display of the essential hops (Saaz and Hallertau, most likely). This is the rare beer that could please beer nerds and fans of everyday American lagers.

They just began canning their Iron Mike Pale Ale in pounder cans, a refreshing break in the trend. I hoped for the blueberry wheat in a can, but that was still in the planning stages.

Like Long Trail, Moats Mountain also has an ethos - its water is heated via solar power.

Having no idea what this brewery looks like at ski time or at summer's peak, I imagine it's a popular stop for beer lovers. From what I tasted, they do it right, and by canning, they will bring their excellent brews to a larger audience.

Moats Mountain epilogue

The brewer began canning their Iron Mike Pale Ale, and in a Manchester hotel room, it holds up well. The first New Hampshire craft brewer to can their wares, Moats Mountain sells them for $4 at the brewery and local stores.

This is nice effervescent American Pale Ale, with a payload of strong hops. Iron Mike almost drinks like an IPA, but holds back on any intense grapefruit character – it’s muted slightly. It’s hoppy, sure, but the volume makes it better than Dale’s Pale.

More craft brewers should go with 24 oz. cans; it might be the best way to push the Steel Reserve and Dog Bites of the world off the shelves.

This might qualify as the best canned beer not made by Big Sky, Oskar Blues or Caldera. Moats Mountain made an excellent first stab into the canned beer market. Bone Shaker Brown Ale is on deck for canning. Let’s hope that blueberry beer earns a canned debut soon.

Cornered in Bridgewater? Pour a Long Trail

2011-05-11T15:59:00.000-05:00

Originally I wanted to push quickly through the Green Mountains to hit Harpoon's Vermont operations before they closed. A brewery sign at a quiet bend in U.S. 4 changed our minds. Passing along the Ottaquechee River in Bridgewater Junction, we decided Long Trail earned a visit.

After sampling a six-pack of their raspberry wheat, it seemed like a solid choice for a few mid-afternoon pours. We opted for a pitcher of their spring seasonal,a Belgian White, and Long Trail nailed the style. Pale orange, the lemon steers the flavor, with supporting roles from coriander, lavender and a bit of licorice on the finish. Cloudy and crisp with a bill of grains presenting complex tones throughout, it was a spring winner.

As the (ahem) designated driver, I went with Long Trail Ale, their original brew. This brilliant amber ale was unlike any I had tasted in recent memory. It lapped Fat Tired by many miles. This English-style amber reminds me of a fresher, tighter Lord Chesterfield from Yuengling. LTA had a nice stiff malt structure, foamy character and a punchy dose of hops on the finish. It was not hoppy by any stretch, but ruby fruits and touches of smoke surround the bittering hop.

The bartender confessed that when he had Long Trail pours at the ski resorts and local bars, the brews never tasted as fresh.

Long Trail earns applause for offering something I wish more breweries chose – a self-guided tour. A second-floor walkway extended over the brewery floor and explained their brewing process. Simple, effective, and the staff can continue [pouring drafts while the interested look around). The brewery floor was quiet but the tour explained everything as well as any of the staff could.

Long Trail has that ethos everyone hopes for in their local brews. They make 75,000 barrels annually, participate in a manure-to-energy project (CVPS Cow Power), and local cows receive their leftover grains.

Situated far from everywhere, it was the perfect setting for afternoon brews a few hours after a half-marathon. Long Trail also became an easy choice throughout the rest of the trip. If a brewer can master session ales, they don't have to answer to anyone.

A Savory, Sour Selection: Threepenny Taproom, Montpelier, Vt.

2011-05-06T14:24:00.006-05:00

A few blocks from the golden dome reflecting Friday's last sunlight, I found Montpelier's beer destination, the Threepenny Taproom. In a word or 12, it's the kind of bar every craft beer lovers wishes was at the end of their block. The narrow bar fits neatly into Montpelier's main commercial block, not spoiling the bounty of fresh, rare beers inside.

Immediately I noticed the plants - lots of hanging plants spread around the bar. A plackard announced, "We proudly DO NOT SERVE Anheuser-Busch products." Any doubts as to Vermont’s independent spirit ended there. Of the 24 taps, seven were sour ales, a ratio nearly impossible at any mainstream beer bar. Aside from Stone and Sierra Nevada, almost ever tap came from New England or East Coast breweries. Rarities from Dogfish Head, Allagash and others filled the chalkboard.

It felt slightly insular at first, but if people didn’t include me in a bar conversation, it wasn’t their fault. Montpelier was a small town, albeit a state capital, and I suspect casual visitors in May weren't typical. Still, the bar staff were friendly and helped with my choices.

An old sour stand-by got me moving: Rodenbach Grand Cru. Among the best-known sours, Rodenbach GC had plenty of secondary fruit tones behind the sour wave, and lacked the massive cidery, mustiness found in almost every sour (this could have been a result of having it on tap). Flavors including peach and apple tape into a delightful sour cherry on the finish. This world classic coats the palate delectably, the authenticity and freshness of the cherry never up for debate.

Switching to a local handle, I could have skipped on Hill Farmstead Arthur Saison in Greensboro Bend,which lies northeast of St. Johnsbury (it's way up there, folks). The brewery makes the same recipe twice and brews in extremely small batches. It produces 200 to 400 gallons of beer and only ships within Vermont (aside from special shipments to Philly and NYC, per their website). No saison lover could ignore local, small-batch saison brewed in an actual farmhouse.

I couldn't stop sniffing this beauty. Arthur crackled with dry zesty spices, and off the tap, rivaled standard bearers like Ommegang Hennepin and Saison Dupont, Stylistically, it falls closer to Hennepin but was still resoundingly unique. Arthur's lemon character defeats the orange by a few lengths. The race between the two augments Arthur's complexity. Fresh beer almost always tastes the best, and this was easily the best saison I found in Northern New England.

I closed with Cuvee des Jacobin Rouge, another sour ale. Because the wild yeast and lactobacillus lead to wildly divergent flavors, this couldn’t taste more different from Rodenbach. This yeast and bacteria came with a mean streak, heaping on the musty character and a punchy finish that refuses to weaken.
This brown sour lacked cider tones, but like Rodenbach, proves excellence can be routine. This might have been the best European sour I've sampled.

Three beers in, I needed a break. While contemplating a return trip later on Friday, four hours on a plane and seven more on unfamiliar, winding roads had sufficiently sapped my energy. For a few days, a return trip to the Threepenny appeared to be my trip's first regret.

The Threepenny Taproom (Reprise)
Alicia expressed interest after returning from the Kanc to Burlington, and with Montpelier in our path, we decided to stop. Besides, who was I to refuse her a chance at this hip watering hole? On a Monday, the Threepenny was much less occupied. A few Vermont legislators mingled with red-shirted single-payer health plan advocates who rallied at the Capitol earlier that day. It was a scene that could only have traction in Vermont.

We nestled up to the bar and Allagash's version of Vrienden stared at me from the chalkboard. It wasn't there Friday. However, I was still driving, and couldn't chance a 9 percent ABV ale before returning to the road. I remembered the New Belgium take on Vrienden as underwhelming, and pursued Allagash's other sour offerings.

The lighter side of wild yeast accentuated Allagash Confluence Ale, which uses Allagash's house Belgian style yeast and its proprietary Brettanomyces strain, along with Tettnang and East Kent Golding hops and pilsner, American pale, and caramel malts. After steel tanking aging, it received a final round of dry-hopping with Glacier hops. I hope you got all that, because there will be a quiz at the end.

Flashes of perfume and a little barnyard odor ripple beneath the lace. At times, its smell hearkens to a cellar filled with wine and beer barrels. In some ways Confluence resembles Reinart's Wild Flemish Ale. In others, a different beast emerges. This is the subtle side of wild ale, orange tones inflected with sour nibbles and a dry finish. The yeast plays a central role, but the maltiness cannot be denied. it possesses a little minerality, which it pairs with lemon grains, and coriander. Confluence leaves the palate achingly dry - a great sensation, in case you wondered.

I switched gears to Allagash Indigenuts, a more powerful ale brewed with cider yeast aged in oak barrels. Indigenuts doesn't quite pucker the lips, but the orange revels in its sour character. It comes off as a sour saison at times, and leaning toward my favorite style never hurts. There's a firm strain of tangerine, and some bitter orange that occasionally borders on passion fruit. Before passion fruit blossoms, Indigenuts quickly veers toward severe lemon, coating the taste buds challenging with its sour demeanor. The oak character barely breaks out. While much different than Confluence, Indigenuts freshness and multi-faceted approach to sour and wild ale begged for another pour to see what else turned up.

The same bartender from Friday came on as we finished a second round. I asked to buy some stickers, he gave them to me free, only requesting that I put them somewhere creative. Declaring that “Chimay had never given me anything," I slapped it on my beer notebook, covering up a red Chimay shield. Five beers in two sessions left me craving more from the Threepenny, a pain caused only by a good beer-bar.

Starting from the Coast: Portsmouth Brewery

2011-05-06T12:07:00.008-05:00

On Portsmouth's narrow streets I stumbled onto its original brewpub, the Portsmouth Brewery. Despite my intentions to hunt for Smuttynose, hunger won out. At first I expected a standard public house, but it was more casual away from the bar, which boasted the best spirits collection I'd seen in a any brewpub. The brewpub pours Smuttynose products but has a half-dozen handles devoted to its own concoctions.

Driving necessitated a two-beer limit. Something with a breakfast character felt in order. I started with the Oatmeal Stout, which came off as bone-dry on the front end. With a creamy head and few signs of roasting, it contained a nice viscosity. There are traces of coffee and chocolate on the finish. Oats rule the beer and don't let any overblown roasted character steal the thunder, which is too often the case with craft-brewed oatmeal stout.

For an encore, Dirty Blond Ale worked well behind its estery nose ripe with passion fruit and a hint of cloves. Portsmouth's Belgian yeast livens up this blonde dutifully. The tandem of strong tangerine and mild, dry orange made Dirty Blonde an easy choice as a session ale. The coriander burst at the finish splinters rapidly and reveals fingers of papaya and honey lurking beneath the citrus.

Based on session ales alone, Portsmouth deserved more than the 75 minutes I gave it. But its original brewpub provided the necessary foundation for five day's of beer-exploration in Vermont and New Hampshire.

Another Day, Another Pullout: So Long, Avery

2011-04-22T21:27:00.002-05:00

Brewers cannot flee Tennessee fast enough these days. Avery is the latest brewer and fourth major craft brewer to shove off. Like so many things, it seems like a lifetime ago when I drank Salvation and The Reverend as regularly as my roommate drank Budweiser. After a particularly bad breakup, I drove to the Sharon Square Carryout for a bottle of Reverend, Avery's Belgian quad. It might the night end faster, and with a lot less pain.

Others were just as effective. White Rascal always livened up a row of taps, and Maharajah could sway anyone on the merits of Imperial IPA.

Sentimentality aside, Tennessee threatens to become a no man's land for craft beer. We got New Belgium in the past year while losing Great Divide, Boulevard (Kansas City), Dogfish Head, Terrapin (Athens, Ga.) and now Avery.

It makes one know better than to hope for O'Dells, Bells, Great Lakes or Allagash to enter the market. If they can see the line of flight, they won't waste their resources to beat the nation's second-highest alcohol tax.

Like Manna from New Belgium

2011-04-21T10:27:00.002-05:00

Le Terroir Dry-Hopped Sour Ale
Sampled: April 8, 2011 and throughout Summer 2011

When New Belgium drops a new Lips of Faith entry, I cannot hide my glee. Not all are perfect. All sound interesting on paper. Most challenge and massage the taste buds. A few make you want to drink nothing else for the rest of your life.

That’s where Le Terroir comes in. Coming on the heels of Eric’s Ale (fun sour brewed with peach juice) and Le Folie (luxuriantly sour), this sour recipe comes with a major twist – excessive dry-hopping with Amarillo hops. The extra ingredients made it my favorite my a country mile.

The sour patches are more concentrated than with Eric’s Ale, but it takes a few seconds to reach them. Le Terroir opens with the bone-dry citrus of the hops, which cruise along momentarily.

I have grown to embrace Amarillo as one of the best choices for dry hopping. That setting amplifies its strengths in the finished beer. By letting those hops work their magic, the fruit tones are more natural and complex than if Le Terroir had been made with fruit juice.*

*(Don't take that as a knock on Eric's Ale - I don't have any left to compare, and still love its peach-sour bliss)

After the hoppy introduction, the sour flavors lower the boom and pursue the pucker. Le Terroir solves the problem these ales often encounter – the infinite sour aftertaste.

While it performs the same trick as find Burgundy – activating the salivary glands – it can pummel the palate. Le Terroir’s Amarillo dry hops snap some citrus into the finish, mellowing the immense sour wave while leaving the mouth watering for more.

Get yourself a summer supply. This is serious sour for a muggy July evening.

Le Terroir won’t be the last word in sour ales, but it could be a perfect exclamation point.

Memories of Montana Brew

2011-04-20T12:40:00.003-05:00

I've only clicked off seven months since my final brew from the Last Best Place. Then I caught site of this photo and I instantly charge back to nights in Bozeman knocking back a few Yellowstone Valley brews and talking life with my old friend Athens. He'd finish his shift at the TV station, and we'd adjourn to the balcony.

This was one of the more unique ales on my last venture in September 2010. A computer-thumb drive conflict swallowed up my review, but I remember savoring this fine ale from Billings.

With six malts including a dash of devilish wheat paired with Cascade and Magnum hops, it scored high on both the drinkability and flavor scales.

Montana Quarterly did an excellent article about the culture that sprouted around Yellowstone Valley's brew-garage taproom in Billings, and whenever my next dash below the Big Sky occurs, it's on the hit list.

Sprechen Sie Sprecher? Bestimmt.

2011-04-15T15:33:00.002-05:00

Sprecher Bavarian Style black Lager
Sampled: March 17-April 9, 2011(four samples)

On a lark, I bought a four-pack of pint bottles from this Wisconsin brew. With a name, I assumed it was actually German.

What I got for missing the “style” attached to Bavarian was one of my biggest beer surprises in 2011. Founded by a former Pabst Brewing superviser in 1985, the brewery definitely spins its own tale of what made Milwaukee famous.

I catch chocoloate, figs and molasses for sweetness. The lager pours opaque with minimal head and leaves a fine lace.

Sprecher has a light, creamy body unlike porter and stout, yet more rounded than most craft-brewed takes on black lager. Oily and viscous, it has velvety characteristics that lean toward stout and porter, even though it doesn’t approach their heaviness.

The finish is creamy bitter and embellished with just enough roasted chocolate and coffee. Its effervescence captures the palate for just a few seconds, catapulting it into the “must try” category.

Really, this is electric lager, defying all gut-busting stereotypes. Call it top of the style or what you will, but Sprecher Bavarian black runs strong against Bavarian black lager brewed in any nation.

Fond Farewell: The last 90-Minute ride

2011-04-15T15:30:00.004-05:00

Sampled: April 3, 2011

There’s no mystery behind Dogfish Head’s departure from Tennessee.

Brewer Sam Calagione’s reality show exposed them to the masses, and everyone wanted a taste. We missed out on our annual batch of 120-Minute IPA, as well as the 2010 editions of the ancient ales. In Nashville, Dogfish Head left a long time ago.

I only miss the novelties, like Chateua Jiahu, Theobroma and Sahtea, that tasted best when imbibed once a year. Palo Santo Marron is incredible, but who can drink more than one a month?

Fortunately, we got a last shipment from the Delaware brewer, a token supply of 90-Minute IPA and Squall, a bottle conditioned version of 90-Minute. The groceries received a last shipment of 60-Minute, and the smoother-than-smooth IPA will receive its own last pour.

But I bought 60-Minute regularly enough. My acquaintance with 90-Minute IPA needed a renewal. With our two cases the last we will stock from Dogfish Head, it was time. For all the accolades, I always preferred Avery’s Maharajah with its balanced attach of grapefruit and dry citrus. The continuous hop process works wonders again, preserving flavor and balanced without turning extreme. America is filled with overdone double and imperial IPAs; this is not one of their ilk.

The hop bitterness doesn’t blast the palate; it glides, pushing its floral character. It curls into a sweet malt moment on the finish. It’s dry, but paced with a delicate array of herbs and citrus. It’s a better warm weather ale than I remember; apparently it was dark at the Winking Lizard that night and I remembered a different beer (seriously, the World Tour is cool, but too many beers get lost in pursuit of the jacket).

90-Minute is still an incredible concoction, slaughtering the extreme IPA competition. With a quartet of Palo Santo Marrons. some 60-Minute and three Squall 90-Minutes inhabiting the beer cave, this last hurrah could last a year.

Put on Your Ovila Face

2011-03-28T12:39:00.004-05:00

Sampled: March 27, 2011

The grand experiment comes to Nashville. Instead of simply brewing an abbey style series, Sierra Nevada threw in a unique twist.

The brews are in partnership with the Abbey of New Clairvaux and will benefit the brothers. Tycoon William Randolph Hearst had the centuries-old Spanish abbey chapter house moved brick-by-brick to California. The Ovila beers will help pay for the restoration

The partnership begins with a Dubbel for spring. The nose sparkles slightly, with cream and a diverse nuttiness. The body is ruby-brown, the effervescence livens up the brew.

A finger or two of banana clove leads off; the banana fades as the cloves keeps running. There are laid-back tones of molasses and A subtle cocoa powder arises near the dry finish that lingers with a little sassafras. The alcohol content (7.5 percent) hits the right mark for the style. Corked bottles make all the difference, and help Ovila break away from the pack of Americanized Dubbels.

Sierra Nevada entered the corked market with its uneven 30th anniversary series. I always have a hard time knocking this brewery, because they take chances and often wait for the opportunity to do things right. Not all those 30th anniversary beers hit the mark (Imperial Helles Bock needs an encore), but they were essentially homebrews sent to the masses. Sierra Nevada waited ages to produce an India pale ale, but when they introduced Torpedo, it became an immediate favorite because Sierra Nevada found a way to differentiate and soothe the taste buds.

The Ovila partnership will add a Saison for summer and a Quad for the fall. The Dubbel is a good, if unspectacular start.

Ovila Dubbel doesn’t have the regal bearing of St. Bernardus or Westmalle. A second bottle down the road will ultimately determine my feelings. For now, it’s the initial step for a worthy experiment. With my favorite beer style next in Ovila’s rotation, I cannot wait to watch this partnership grow.

Sam Adams' Latest Scottish Twist

2011-03-26T12:46:00.004-05:00

Samuel Adams Wee Heavy
Sampled: March 25, 2011

Lacking the trademark portrait of Sam Adams with a beer mug, I initially overlooked the four-pack. With a Scottish castle replacing the brewer-patriot, this latest addition to the Imperial Series signaled a new direction.

Long years have passed since my last Sam Adams Scotch Ale. Ever since it migrated to the Brewmaster’s Collection mixed six-pack, it gets ignored. If Wee Heavy becomes a regular in the Imperial Series, I might forget it ever existed.

Wee Heavy tops the scales of Scottish ales. The peat-smoked barley is a different twist; Scotch distillers are the only ones to smoke their malt. Its brewers tend to skip the smoked malt. But smoked malt has a long history in beer. German smoke beers (rauchbier) tend to overwhelm the palate unless paired with barbecue of similar character.

The nose burns bright with black pepper, peaty smoke, hints of mahogany, leather, cherry and a sprig of spearmint. It’s easy to question whether the parade of flavors will ever end.

Unlike the smoke beer, Sam Adams Wee Heavy pulls the smoky curtain back and allows other flavors to flourish. There’s a kick of molasses, tobacco and anise seed before the blanket descends again. The finishing smoke differs from the initial blast, offering a velvet touch.

Like a glass of fine Islay Scotch, Sam Adams Wee Heavy isn’t an all-night quaffer. A single Wee Heavy will smoke up the windows in no time. Few American Scotch-style ales (well, outside of Montrana’s Madison River or Kettlehouse) come this close to besting its originators.

When in Detroit ....

2011-03-19T11:56:00.003-05:00

The memory of this lager washed away in a fog of Guiness. But for a beer endorsed by Kid Rock, it was not brutish and offensive. Having shivered every time someone has bought a bottle of Red Stag at the store, I feared the worst. I'm guessing he probably has nothing to do with it, or he beat the brewmaster into raising the quality. It was an easy drinking American craft lager, with a freshness the macrobreweries lack. I won't seek it out, nor I will not disparage this lager.

Cleveland's Impish Upstart Goes Old School

2011-03-11T16:08:00.006-06:00

Sampled: March 6, 2011

An offbeat Cleveland brewer could offer Great Lakes some creative competition. Not that Indigo Imp (or “blue devil”, if you will) is like any other brewer. They use open vessels, allowing the wild yeasts to infiltrate and influence the ale. Concentrating on Belgian-style ales, they seem likely to craft a niche in the ever-crowded craft beer market.

I began with the Blonde Bombshell. The head is thick and stubborn but remarkably fragrant. Nose is subtle, but rich with mango, peach, tangerine and a dry floral background.

Following a little B vitamin touch, a little peak of tartness lurks within. The yeasty wildness isn’t ready to proclaim its presence, but it should expand with time. There’s definitely enough brett to pucker the mouth every so slightly. I hold onto hope that this blonde could go in an Orval-esque direction

After Blonde Bombshell hits the palate, that quickly passes into a bright peach-orange body and finish. The carbonation threatens orange soda territory, albeit without the artificial sweeteners. Fortunately it pulls back before that sensation can spoil the experience.

Without that funkiness, Blonde Bombshell would taste awfully close to a Boulder Sweaty Betty clone. This young blonde is shapely and slightly mysterious, leaving me wondering how it will change over time.

Up next was Jester, Indigo Imp’s take on a Tripel and not a Duvel variation as the name might suggest. Jester’s nose presents a bigger funk profile, with a head that sharpens into a crewcut in just seconds and a crisp, burnt citrus character.

Jester’s spicier bouquet and body speaks to the Tripel style. It leaves touches of coriander, lemongrass, white pepper, root vegetables and grains of paradise.
There’s a little tang pushing upward into the burnt orange, and it should grow more insistent with aging. It mingles nicely with the spices. Lemon elevates its presence on the finish.

The wild yeast tweaks that lemon gently, leaving the palate coated and wanting more. This one definitely needs more bottle time, as Jester feels a bit like a joke told too soon. I kept wanting a deeper flavor profile or more exuberant flourish from the brett.

Look for an Indigo Imp update once these ales log some bottle time. Fortunately, Indigo Imp places a wax seal on one bottle in each six-pack, ideal for a spot in the cellar. They will not be the last brewer to add this simple flourish.
At first taste, I would recommend the Blonde Bombshell and pass on Jester, which just isn't devious enough yet.

Mighty Ommegang

2011-03-11T16:07:00.004-06:00

Brewed Under a Great Sign: Ommegang Biere de Mars
Sampled: March 6, 2011

My Ommegang infatuation only gets fed so often – well, four times so far in 2011.
Their Biere de Mars has blipped on my radar for years. Only in Columbus did I find a last corked bottle from Ommegang’s third batch, brewed in November 2008.

A refermentation with brettanomyces bruxellensis separates this ale from biere de mars’ cousin, Saison, and from the brett-created Ommegeddon Funkhouse Ale. The age allows the brett to settle down.

Very light-bodied, Biere de Mars pours slightly amber in color. At first glance, it’s a dead ringer for Rare Vos. But it’s a cloudy orange affair with a thin, sparkling head.

Ommegang’s Biere de Mars stabs with a rich, brett-heavy nose that produces unparalleled floral tone and an acidic, cidery musk. I catch traces of hibiscus, orchid and lavender (at least I think I do). That touch of barnyard flair perfectly fits biere de mars and the naturally occurring yeasts which would funk up a French farmhouse ale. It’s a rare nose, regal, overpowering and alluring.

Plenty of fruit emerges, headlined by orange with banana, cloves and ginger in supporting roles. A slight twist of earth sticks the whole way , imparting character not unlike Bordeaux from a good vintage. Dry-hopping contributes to the floral tones, and exudes some bitterness to push against the mighty tartness.

The brett erupts on the finish, letting its acidic, tart character. As with many Belgian sours, it activates the taste buds, ensuring the bottle won’t last long. Trace amounts of sediment speckle the glass.

Ommegang strives to avoid cloning Orval, which many brewers resort to. Domestically, only Boulevard’s Saison Brett and Schlafly’s Biere de Mars rival the Franco-Belgian originators. Other unabashedly copy the Trappist great.

While waiting for Ommegang’s next brilliant experiment, start spring on the tart note with this lovely, elegant Biere de Mars. It differs enough from Hennepin, Ommegeddon and the untouchable Orval to impress most Belgian-loving palates.

Chocolate Indulgence (Take Two)
(This hails from January)
It’s hard to comprehend why Belgian stout prove so long in the making. Chocolate malts might not top Belgian brewers’ lists, but country renown for chocolate seemed a natural for stout. In recent years, I have tasted plenty of Belgian-style stouts, including some re-fermented in the bottle. None approach the decadence of Ommegang Chocolate Indulgence. Having only tasted it once, at Christmas 2007, I thought it eanred a reexamination now that it finally reached Nashville.

Chocolate Indulgence will not be mistaken for Young’s Double Chocolate. Ommegang uses the confection with skilled and subtlety. It forms a soft yet lush backdrop throughout the entire beer, carrying into a bitter malt finish. There’s nothing velvety about this stout.; its rough, rustic character prevents its inherent oiliness from growing dominant.

Just as magical as I remember it, Chocolate sets the pinnacles to which Belgian-style stouts can aspire. Beneath that frothy head bubbles an effervescent brew that never strikes the palate, but massages it, ensuring nothing else will serve as the last beer of the night.

An Odd Trio

2011-02-28T15:39:00.004-06:00

For the Fading Days of Winter: Bell’s Winter White

Sampled: January to March 2007, December 2010-March 2011
Bell’s Winter White answers a question that long needed asking: Why must all winter seasonals be thick and dark? When winter reaches its nadir, something orange and tangy can fit the bill.

Wheat ales come in many variations, but few parallel this concoction from Bells Brewery in Kalamazoo. Outside of Celis White, a great recipe that struggles to stick with a brewery, Bells Winter White is easily my favorite domestic wheat ale. The fifth and final six pack of the winter was nearly gone before I realized Winter White never received a proper review.

Words escape me at times. Bells might have better beers – I would prefer the cherry stout, but cannot rationalize a $20 six-pack . At half the price, Winter White offers a purified, American take on Belgian white ales.

Winter white pours with a pale orange body with minimal head. The crisp bouquet of cracked wheat, coriander and grains of paradise more than compensates for it.
Impressively, Bell’s does not add any spice to Winter White, generating all that flavor from a lively Belgian yeast and the blend of malted wheat and barley.

Orange dominates, with daggers of lemon, pineapple, banana and clove. Those are the standard flavors for Belgian white, but Winter White possesses a zing which others lack. The freshness of the ingredients makes it spectacular.

On the finish, a slight creaminess emerges but fades before it can become buttery. For season, it's a culture shock that couldn't be more refreshing.

Herald the New Season with Magic Hat Vinyl
Sampled: February 27, 2011

Following the pleasant surprise of Sicko, the brew Magic Hat produces with beats, they returned to my good graces. With Vinyl Spring Lager, they offered a very different brew, but one equally compelling. The overblown promotion of Magic Hat No. 9’s expansion to new markets has been forgiven. The reddish brown body quickly shucks off its head into a thin lace.

The nose bursts forth with a concentrated sweetness that manages to be both fruity and welcoming. A little bit of red apple pops up. With an acceptable level of thickness, this lager finishes slightly sweet, with a hint of candied root vegetables and florid tones owing to hop bitterness.

There’s some lychee and hints of chicory drifting in Vinyl, but they merely increase its complexity and don’t linger too long. The red fruits coat the palate, never overwhelming it. Nor does it taste like additional sugar, but a solid collision of yeast and malt.

Don’t let its color dissuade you. Vinyl pours darker than many spring lagers, but never bogs down in sweetness or loses its session beer style. Spring bocks might be the season’s typical beer, but Vinyl successfully beats the trend.

Black Saison or Belgian Porter? Terrapin Side Project 14: Tomfoolery
Sampled: Feb. 26, 2011
Due to a bad cap that left the ale with a massive metallic complexion, I’m drinking black saison five hours after pouring it. I wonder if the craft brewers of American have run into a major quality control issue. My recent pours have frequently come with that ugly smell permeating whatever I pour.

But back to Terrapin. The Side Project series has produced some memorable excursions. With Yazoo steeping into the mix with a brewery-exclusive black saison, the style has emerged as the latest craft-brewing trend.

A bit of a Belgian yeast profile adds a zesty, creamy texture to the finish. The problem with dark malts is their ability to characterize any beer. The body is actually pretty light; for a dark ale, it is drinkable at 7.3 percent ABV, and bears traits I expect from porter.

The chocolate malts tend to dominate. Other malts round it out effectively, but any hopes saison’s typical spicy orange character should be severely tempered. They lie in many saisons, but not this one.

Any quirks of yeast or outside spicing common to other saisons fails to appear. Terrapin earns some cover from the widespread disparity in the saison style. It originates in whatever ingredients Belgian and French farmers added to their ales, so it can contain anything palatable.

Is dark saison any different from Belgian-style stout or porter? Tomfoolery leaves too little room to differentiate. Terrapin should not consider this prototype for mass production. It's drinkable, but not as cutting edge as the name implies.

Unless Terrapin renames Side Project 14 as a Belgian porter, any similarities to true Saison are purely coincidental.

First Thoughts on Lips of Faith Dunkel Weiss

2011-02-25T08:48:00.004-06:00

Sampled: Feb. 24, 2011

Few styles elicit a more ambivalent "meh" from me than dunkel hefeweizen, German dark wheat ale. It isn't bad for an occasional quaff, but few brewers branch out from its basic blueprint.

This one comes from New Belgium's high-gravity line, which drastically changes that response. They can call it Grand Cru Dunkel Weiss or whatever they like. I have to sample it, or risk waiting years for another shot.

No surprises here - the Lips of Faith series rolls right along with Dunkel Weiss. For all my trepidation toward another strong wheat ale, FOL Dunkel Weiss delivered a brand-new dark wheat experience.

Pour LOF Dunkel Weiss with a mild chill to shake off room temperature; anything colder shrouds its clean complexity.

Due to its entrancing fragrances, might be a while before you taste the actual beer. The nose takes root beer ingredients, presenting its sassafras and vanilla elegantly. Those are only the backdrop. Due to the wheat malt, a stiff front of cloves and banana bread rises up.

The banana bread bouquet hints at the stronger nutty textures that emerge later. As for the chocolate New Belgium warns about ... it's moderate at best, which suits me well.

When sipping FOL Dunkel Weiss, the ale gets dangerous. It drinks like a 4-5 percent ABV sessions beer, wholly masking the might of a 9 percent ABV. Dunkel Weiss sports a few traces of pepper, and its light-bodied, creamy nature give nothing away. Tread carefully.

The beer's clean tones hold all those flavors together and don't let anything dominate. This dunkel weiss preserves the German framework then enhances it with Belgian know-how and several fine craft-brewing upgrades.

Singled Out: Another Witkap-Pater

2011-02-22T14:31:00.005-06:00

Sampled: Throughout most of February 2011

There's nothing like uncovering a new import from a favorite Belgian brewer. On a recent excursion, I found 4-packs of this rare Belgian abbey single ale. The Trappist monks primarily keep their lightest brew, the single (singel), for the brothers’ consumption at meals. Only a few leave the monasteries. Rochefort 6 would also qualify, but its dark recipe is hardly indicative of this style.

I adore Witkap-Pater Tripel, one of the style’s palest examples. The Slagmuylder Brewery in Ninove, Belgium produces unique Trappist-style ales. In fact, they were the first secular brewery to brew ales similar to those of the Trappists.

Although their range of ales is smaller than St. Bernardus of St. Feiullen, Slagmuylder's two blonde brews are among Belgium’s best (I've yet to find their Dubbel, also available stateside).

With a nose heavy on the banana and cloves, Witkap-Pater Singel couldn’t be paler. Grains of paradise and lemon pepper quickly swoop in. The aftertaste is thick with dry lemon and orange peel. The yeast keeps this a creamy and crisp affair.

The balance between cream and zest puts Witkap-Pater Singel into the upper echelon of light Belgian ales. Although these tastes often come from Belgian whites, Witkap-Pater Singel lacks the heavy body of most wheat ales. Unfortunately, too few Belgian ales like this reach the U.S. market.

One note of caution: Make sure Witkap-Pater brews have not endured a lengthy stay on the store shelf. Some light-colored Belgian ales turn to geysers when opened. Other encounter some cap oxidization, giving the beer an off-putting metallic odor. This odor will fade with a little air time, but it speaks poorly of the brewery.

That makes Witkap-Pater Singel a rare catch. Priced at $15.99 a six-pack, it might be too expensive for an everyday drinker, although it performs perfectly as a session ale. For the quality, it's hard to skip, given the lack of similar Belgian quaffers available.

Hoptimum Overdrive

2011-02-22T11:44:00.005-06:00

22 oz. capped bottle, split with several friends
Sampled: Feb. 19, 2011

Beers like Hoptimum don't enter my life often anymore. I’ve grown exceptionally bored with “hoppier than thou” IPAs , double IPAs and Imperial IPAs.

The disdain just wells up whenever I see a new one – Hoptastic, Baron Von Hoppenstein, HopVengeance, Emperor Hopohito, or whatever craft brewers dubbed their latest palate crusher. Very rarely do those names stack up to an intricate ale.

Then came Sierra Nevada Hoptimum. Despite its underwhelming 30th anniversary series, Sierra Nevada always gets a pass. For a mass-producing craft brewer, they patiently shape their recipes to get the beer right. Look at Torpedo – it took almost 30 years for SN to add an IPA to its standard lineup. Torpedo instantly became our store’s most popular IPA.

For the hundreds of Torpedo six-packs we sold, the store received but a case of Hoptimum, its whole-cone Imperial IPA. With its cult beer reputation, it lasted a solid day. Hop burnout or not, I had to see what Sierra Nevada produced.

Hoptimum's transcendent nose erupts with the hop citrus, multi-faceted herbal tones and a vein of white pepper. The flavor blossoms with aromas of grapefruit, tangerine and a firm line of peach.

The hops burst forth with oily and grassy flavors I associated with Sierra Nevada’s fresh hop ales. I get no indication that those ingredients are actually present, but the hops positively sparkle with dimensions few other imperial IPAs can provide.

Even my previous favorite, Avery’s Maharajah, lacks that level of hop complexity.
The finish coats the mouth with supple citrus, never turning pushing beyond ambient levels of hop residue. I can scents of chamomile and lilies lurking between the hop might, which never threatens to turn excessive.

Strong IPAs rarely classify as elegant, but the non-beer drinkers in the room also gave their approval. Hoptimum is by no means an everyday libation, but a celebration of how the right techniques can lead to balanced, drinkable extreme ale.

The early fall is always full of anticipation, when SN releases its North American Harvest and Chico Estate Harvest ales. With Hoptimum, beer enthusiasts now can eagerly await January, if they can land this elusive monster.

Beer Utopia in Sin City: The Freakin' Frog

2011-01-24T09:08:00.002-06:00

With slim and highly commercial options for craft brewing in Las Vegas, I ventured off the Strip for a beer bar experience like few others. Online I found the Freakin’ Frog near UNLV campus, across the street from an In N Out Burger.

Its spot in a small shopping plaza next to a head shop did not reveal the beer wonders that lied within. As for the Frog, its interior only hints at its mighty beer collection and the 500-bottle whiskey collection stored upstairs.

For a visit, I suggest renting a car, if only to avoid the chance of walking back to the Strip (a solid 2.5 miles). We only made it back from a Friday record store trip because a cabbie happened to stop for an album. Otherwise, walking is the only option

I perused their giant beer guide, which boasted hundreds of brews, including a handful of rarities not available. When my choices kept coming up empty, I urged the bartender to give me a view of the cooler. The happy hour crowd prevented that from happening, at least not immediately.

Thankfully, the Frog's taps include two delights not available due east. I started with the mighty Rogue Charlie, a strong American ale in their words (an American barleywine in mine). The name is in honor of American homebrewing pioneer Charlie Papazian, president of the Association of Brewers and founder of the American Homebrewers Association. With lots of hop leaf on the nose, its florid complexion covers a wide spectrum. Plenty of alcoholic pepper and creaminess mingle on the finish. This was a dangerous beer, with an alcohol content estimated in the 14 percent range. Still, served in a Chimay chalice and at $10 a pour, it did not wipe me out.

The second brew equaled it in rarity. The Frog had acquired a keg of Rogue Smoked Porter brewed with vanilla beans. The deviation from the standard smoked porter had not been bottled and otherwise available only at Stone’s brewery in Escondido.

The vanilla beans add a starkly different direction to the standard smoked porter. The porter finishes with a dry blast of vanilla – it isn’t extract or artificial, but raw pure vanilla. More importantly, it preserves the light, drinkable quality porter should emanate. This beauty vanished before I realized it. Obviously, the porter is too expensive to widely brew with the vanilla beans. If the chance arrives, grab one, or as many pints as possible. It was the best domestic porter I tasted in ages.

Then it was time for a splurge from the Frog’s catalog of brews. I had been turned down on Westvleteren 12 and the fake label on the bottle. As much as I want to abide the monks, I would have splurged for that rarity made rarer Several saisons were also out of stock. I heard whispers of the cooler containing bottles not on the list, and inquired about a quick view.

The bartender acquiesced and let me wander it for a few minutes. Their estimate of 1,000 beers felt light. I could have wasted an hour picking one out, and passed a dozen ales which could have finished me off. As I wandered, the reveler's silhouette on the bottle of of a Cantillon Gueuze stuck with me. I almost balked at the $22 price, then realized I would not find one back in Nashville.

As for the gueuze, it possesses a fantastic complexity. Cantillon combines lambics aged one, two and three years. Without the fruit most people associate with lambic, it takes a jagged turn. It was sour and puckered the lips, then finished by leaving me salivating. The initial flavors were Granny Smith apple, pineapple, apricot, sour orange and a layer of brilliant tart peach. That’s just in the nose. All flavors reappear in the body, along with a cidery texture and a mustiness often reserved for French red wine. This was real deal, intricate ale worth every penny.

With Cantillon delicately coating my palate, I didn’t touch another beer for hours.

Dark, Elusive, and Nowhere to be Found: Brooklyn Black Ops 2010

2011-01-18T09:36:00.003-06:00

Sampled: January 15, 2011

A good beer can be hard to find, especially in Tennessee. Brooklyn Brewery's Black Ops strove not to be found. Maybe it reached 1,000 cases – Black Ops barely lasted two weeks in our beer cooler at Grand Cru. The beer ratings sites gushed, the masses rushed -- it has become a frustratingly frequent phenomenon.

I took home two from our single case and in mid-January, my first date with Black Ops arrived. In a word, Brooklyn devised a stout unlike any other, with bourbon barrel aging and no fermentation until bottling.

Black Ops bursts forth with a nose of chicory, roasted nuts and milky texture. There’s a That’s the last of the sweetness, as Black Ops goes follows a creamy, viscous path. Black Ops definitely thickens; no one will mistake it for an imperial porter.

A sliver or two of bourbon barrel sneaks into the inky night of Black Ops’ body. A bit of effervescent sneaks in for a few moments, and then the bourbon barrel oak rises up. Those notes never overwhelm the palate, but the definitely grow in prominence. This is one massive stout, straining against its 11.3 percent ABV, yet never spilling into undrinkable territory. The bubbles stick around, mellowing the other flavors.

In its forth, I detect strains of espresso beans, toffee and the faint stab of chocolate. Now it grows highly interesting on the finish, where most stouts might be content with their complexity. With that bourbon barrel tail at the finish comes of a burst of fruit, some lichee, apple and traces of citrus, not anything I would ever expect in a strong stout.

As for the sharp, woody tones that often spoil bourbon barrel stouts, none appear in Black Ops – or Black Ops has silenced them. At this alcohol content, it’s simply the most drinkable stout I’ve encountered.

I will reappraise at a future date, with the hopes that re-fermentation in the bottle will give it more shelf life than a typical barrel-aged stout.

From this sample, I tasted the merit behind the furor Black Ops caused in its limited run. Brooklyn Brewing created transcendent stout – they just didn’t want to over-promote or even acknowledge its existence.

Cherry Ecstasy

2011-01-10T11:32:00.002-06:00

Chatoe Rogue Creek Ale
Sampled: Dec. 2, 2010

Rogue packs two plays on words into this homegrown ale’s name, along with innumerable brewing surprises.

What an amazing nose, with the cherry subtle and fresh but powerful enough to beat back any malt or hop presence. It’s rich, warm and slightly sour. All the ingredients are local – with the malt and hops grown by Rogue itself, hence the chateau designation (Pun #1) Only the cherries from Montmorency come from outside. Rogue’s Creek Ale does not merely clone a Belgian kriek (Pun #2). Its light, frothy red-hued lace and a burgundy body tantalize the palate.

Then, they deliver in spades. The cherry flavor rises near the finish, kicking the salivary glands into action. Like a good Burgundy, its dry textures aren’t stifling, but present an appropriate level of sourness. Despite temptations to compare it to Casteel Rouge, few similarities apply aside from cherries.

Pacific Northwest cherries pack a punch all their own, and Creek Ale has session ale strength (Casteel Rouge pushes 8 percent).

Creek Ale presents a study in contrasts. Medium-bodied, the Dare and Risk malts threaten to turn this into an English red ale. Veins of cherry prevent that, penetrating deeply before their later resurgence. Do the Hopyard Revolution hops provide a little pushback on those lush cherries before the finish? I couldn’t tell you, and once immersed in that brilliance, there’s no point pondering hops.

Creek Ale is easily the prize from Rogue’s Grow Your Own series, and among the best domestic cherry ale I have tasted. Rogue’s local ingredients provide the trump card, and I own a soft spot for PNW cherries.

For local cherries of a different stripe ....

Founders Cerise
Sampled: Jan. 9, 2011

Normally I don’t beat the drum for Founders, having tied of Dirty Bastard and some of their over-the-top efforts. But this seasonal fruit beer forever altered my perception.

Founders stays local, going with Michigan cherries. Aside from the mouth-watering finish, it shares very little with Chatoe Rogue Creek Ale. At 6.5 percent, it runs a little stronger, but never resorts to a cherry cough syrup/cough drop flavors present with inferior cherry brews. Everything about this cherry ale feels authentic and carries the impish mark of Founders.

The cherry flavors are more distant than a kriek lambic, but more complex. Instead of feeling as if Founders merely piled fruit into its fermenters, Cerise takes a nuanced approached. Founders addition of cherries at several points during fermentation. The creamy nose sparkles with cherries, never feeling too rich. The body bears a pale crimson hue, never fully giving away the integral role cherries play here.

Flavorwise, Cerise projects rounded fruit, undoubtedly the result of five additions of cherries into the fermentation process. I don’t know how much Founders includes in each stage, but a measured approach leads to a more balanced ale.

Cerise has only a moment of sweetness, never letting that tone dominate. The ale perks up into a defining tart finish, and it’s one for the ages.

I parsed out this four-pack for nearly a month, revisiting Cerise whenever my palate needed a boost. Only a delicate aftertaste sticks around, and it’s just enough to leave me craving more. Founders has hit the mark for a perfect after-dinner beer, a winter warmer that pulls the taste buds back to harvest’s bounty.

Regal Ommegangs, Feisty Victory Start 2011

2011-01-05T07:45:00.004-06:00

Bask In Its Glory: Ommegang Adoration Special Winter Ale
Sampled: January 1, 2011

The stable of Ommegang’s Belgian inspiration has expanded to include some devilish new brews in the past few years – stout (Chocolate Indulgence), Belgian pale ale (BPA), brown sour with cherries (Zuur), among others. The Cooperstown brewer added its winter ale several years ago. Limited editions from Ommegang rarely reach Tennessee, and a trip to Atlanta netted an Adoration, its “special winter ale.”

Special is ingrained in its every facet. As leery as I’ve grown of special and limited edition, Ommegang again refuses to disappoint. Adoration might be the best winter ale I’ve tasted in years. Bucking convention and carving out new territory, Adoration shows how far a brewer can build on strong dark ale.

Adoration sports a creamy nose with licorice, dates and an incomparable bevy of spices, some more exotic than most winter warmers. The coriander and grains of paradise I expected, but cardamom and mace make a pleasant introduction.

That sweet orange peel asserts it self on the finish, with the other spices rolling forward. The citrus never overwhelms the darker flavors but adds brilliant flares of sweetness and fruit. Instead, it works in concert with roasted coffee and vanilla tones which lead back into the spices.

The spice overcomes the trap often sprung by winter beers – they bog down in their own maltiness. It owes a great deal to its Belgian yeast strain, which clears away the clutter and pushes out unique flavors. I detect hints of anise seeds slightly covering the alcoholic pepper of a 10 percent ale that swims within Adoration.

Despite being dark and strong, Adoration never comes across as heavy.

Adoration wraps up complex elements of strong stouts, winter ales and strong Belgian darks such as Gulden Draak to plot a wholly different course for a winter warmer. It might not rank with gold, frankincense and myrrh, but Adoration serves another mighty winter gift from Ommgang.

Ommegang Tripel Perfection
Sampled: Jan. 2, 2011

For another brewer, Ommegang’s choice of superlatives could be problematic. “Rare”, “Indulgence” and “Perfection” cannot be tossed off if the ale falls short. With its range of Belgian ales, a Tripel felt overdue for Ommegang.

The golden-burnt orange body shines. After the monstrous head settles into comfortable lace, cream, biscuits and courtesy of the yeast strain, B vitamins. That nose emanates strongly, and the tiny bubbles sparkle among the tongue. Tripel Perfection has a smooth run of orange and complementary citrus – shoots of lemon. Grains of paradise push out on the finish, where a cluster of bitterness drifts among the stiff maltiness.

Perfection? Close, but no. Westmalle still brews the dean of Belgian tripels. That said, Ommegang has the domestic Belgian-style tripel market cornered. This tripe would taste excellent on any continent.

Victory Wild Devil
Sampled: January 2, 2011

No beer born of brettanomyces can hide its nature for long, and Wild Devil’s nose quickly exposes its rebellious creator. Many of these ales parade around as Orval clones (not a bad choice if copying a beer recipe). Victory’s version chooses to increase the hop presence to give it a more American feel.

This Wild Devil was bottled Sept. 21, 2009, so time should have mellowed the brett. In this instance, it’s as lively as ever. At 6.7 percent ABV, the same level as Orval, it’s nearly impossible not to compare Wild Devil with the Trappist masterpiece. I don’t help separate the two by drinking Wild Devil in an Orval glass, but the undeniable tart nose, the billowy head condensing into a creamy slick and the dark orange body call for that chalice.

The sour orange of the brett romps throughout this ale. As the finish nears, Wild Devil’s hops assert themselves, creating leafy and piney textures. I’m not sure of the hop strain, but Victory definitely chose hops capable of matching with the brett-generated citrus. They impart a bitterness on the tail end that only momentarily moves past the yeast’s strength. Brettanomyces doesn’t play well with other ingredients. With Wild Devil, I would almost prefer the brewers added more hops to collide with the brett. Time has diminished the hop brilliance to some degree, not the overall opulence of Wild Devil.

The raw leafiness does grow more prominent in time, dropping in some bitterness to combat the brett. Wild Devil opens a new niche for brett-produced ales, avoiding the Orval clone problem so common in American craft brewers. Brett might produce a highly identifiable flavor, but brewer like Victory wisely manipulates ingredients to produce challenging beer.

Finally Full on Faro: Lindemans Faro

2010-12-30T09:06:00.003-06:00

Sampled: Dec. 27, 2010

For all my lambic and sour ale adventures, Faro was a new experience. Lindemans produces a Faro, a Brussels-style wild ale embellished with barley, unmalted wheat and candied sugar. Considered cheap and light in the 19th century, the Lindemans version wouldn't qualify as either. Like all Lindemans, it presents well with its 12-ounce corked bottle and intricately scrolled label. The silver-on-black motif helps it stand out from the fruit lambics, considering how far Faro deviates from the kriek, peche and framboise.

Before the head dies down, a biscuity tone dominates. Once all but the thinnest lace vanishes, the sour tones push forward, led by a thrust of candied sugar. The candied sugar created confectionery tones which do not carry over to the taste, such as the slightest chocolate. In addition to apples, I distinct vein of kiwi runs through Lindemans Faro, backed by thinner lines of lemon and lime. Served almost ice cold, it quenches and challenges.

The sour textures grow more rounded than in many sours, never jabbing the palette. Yet it results in the same mouth-watering sensation after every sip. Given a little chill, it pleasures the taste buds similarly to Duchess Bourgogne or other Flemish sours ales. If anything, Lindemans Faro possesses a complex yet approachable quality, essential for a style from which many drinkers recoil. This faro could serve as an easy gateway for drinkers wanting to explore sour ales but not prepared for the lip-puckering power most sour ales wield.

Add Infinium (To Your Beer List)

2010-12-29T09:36:00.003-06:00

With its festive packaging and champagne bottle, Sam Adams dropped its latest boundary-pusher just in time for Christmas and New Year's Eve. Infinium will not replace sparkling wine as the celebratory drink of choice, but its complexity and risk-taking facets should turn a few heads.

A collaboration brew with Weihenstephan, Europe's oldest brewery, the parties set out to create a new style with Infinium. Dating back to 1040, they approached Sam Adams about teaming for a new beer.

Mission accomplished. I admit it took me aback at first. I expected ale that curved toward a dry, bubbly Brut, and Infinium burst through those narrow constraints.

Ruthlessly complex, At times, Infinium comes off as the younger sibling of Utopias. Scale back the tongue-coating thickness of Utopias' maple syrup, then let it tail directly into a bed of effervescence on the finish. Other dark sweet flavors, including a patch of toffee and cream, sweep in.

But to deposit Infinium in Utopias' shadow does it a disservice. This is a wholly different creature, which it announces whenever its cork pops. Utopias lacks carbonation, and one year after opening, still drinks fine. Even with its effervescent character, Infinium has few ties to Belgium's methode champagnoise champion, Deus.

First, Infinium has no extras, just the four essentials in according with the Reinheitsgebot of 1516 (Bavarian beer purity law). Only water, barley, hopes and yeast go into its production; the spicy textures emerge from those four. Several weeks of bottle conditioning with a secondary years create Infinium's nod to sparkling wine.

Infinium has a surprisingly limited shelf life for its strength (July 2011 - really). That makes it perfect for New Year's Eve and if that special someone also enjoys innovative ale, Valentine's Day.

Despite the dry hopping, there's only minor bitterness roaming through Infinium. It goes down sweet and smooth. There's a lot more going on here, and it all deserves individual exploration. Weihenstephan and Sam Adams brewed a beer that simply must be tasted. I could ramble, but Infinium's ability to slip past description merits fewer words and more sipping.

Hark, These Heralded Ales To Drink

2010-12-20T10:11:00.005-06:00

A Saison Brilliant and Sour: Fantome Noel (Vintage 2008)
Sampled: Dec. 6, 2010
Damn, this beer has a fragrant nose. Its all dark malts, leading with toffee and molasses, and chased with magnificent effervescence. Fantome is the Belgian innovator, challenging the boundaries of saison from the Ardennes forest.
The body possesses elements of a Belgian Dubbel or bruin, but Fantome goes strictly farmhouse for Christmastime. Just when it threatens to turn heavy, the spices intervene and let it conclude with a lively finish. Traces of cider also appear. The finish also includes darker flavors that manage not to overwhelm the palette.

I like a brewer that turns its slate of ales into a moving target. Fantome’s embrace of the saison concept gives it space to experiment under one banner. Instead of a normal Noel spice contingent, a distinct vein of orange dominates the back palette. It almost has a tannin-like dryness, bursting forth with a tart berry complexion, with blueberry challenging the orange for top billing. It’s unlike anything I’ve tasted in a Christmas ale. They don’t simply go with spices atop their normal offering.

Then the orange sharply turns sour. What shocks me more is the rapid development, as those fruit tones go decidedly sour. It doesn’t quite pucker the lips, but only the dullest taste buds would fail to see the sour. The flavor might not be intentional, but my delight in the Belgian sour’s extreme I never expected Fantome Noel to bend and twist in such exhilarating ways, but sours makes itself an asset here. Almost too much to handle in one ale, Fantome Noel is a pleasure for seasoned palettes, unwrapping new flavors in every pass.

Rue the Day You Skip This Saison: The Bruery Saison Rue
Sampled: Dec. 19, 2010
Rye malt meets brettanomyces sounds like heaven to lovers of bone-dry beer. The Buery had the nerve to pair rye with the wild yeast in its Saison Rue. Beneath its creamy head lies a deep bouquet of esters. This must be an older bottle, since the hoppiness described on the bottle never appears. Burnt orange envelopes the other tones and spices which threaten to rise. Citrus balanced with scents of dates and similar fruits emerge from the billowing bubbles.

Nashville’s Yazoo Brewery produces a rye saison, a lemony brew which couldn’t taste more foreign . The only lemon here emerges on the finish, a bright burst as the slightly sour tones fade away. A tiny dose of fine sediment lined the glass bottom; if you don’t look for it, you might miss it altogether. The ultra-dry orange coats the palette in an inoffensive manner. For it all the dry flavors, Saison Rue is a complex, nuanced affair.

Missing in Action: A Tennessee Wishlist for Absent Craft Brews

2010-12-15T12:17:00.006-06:00

In discussions with a rep from one of Nashville's large distributors, we came up with a little list of our most desired brewers not in the market. Nashville's portfolio improved immensely in my three-plus years, adding Ommegang, New Belgium, Stevens Point, Brooklyn and even college favorite Erie Brewing.

We shouldn't get greedy, but it's an unavoidable urge among brewhounds. Regions give birth the different attitudes and ingredients in craft brewers. To paraphrase Tip O'Neill, all brewing is local. An emerging city like Nashville needs beer shelves that cater to transplanted tastes.

This list is more dream than reality. A Nashville move would mean increasing production. I won't include Kansas City's Boulevard, which will leave Nashville once its shelf space clears out. Distances are too large for many favorites - I doubt Russian River would stab at a map and pick Middle Tennessee - which eliminates Alaskan, Big Sky, Pike's and Deschutes.

So let's commence the speculation with a quick wishlist.

Bell's
Rumors say some bad blood exists between the Kalamazoo brewery and Tennessee. The truth says I can buy its many flavors in Atlanta, which means its trucks cut right through the Volunteer State. Why not stop? Nashville has the same proportion of hopheads as many other states, and Two Hearted Ale might pressure local efforts like Yazoo's Hop Project series to pick a favorite recipe and stick with it.

Great Lakes
My bias shines on this one, as my early drinking days were peppered with brews from Great Lakes and the defunct Crooked River (Blogger's note: Crooked River was resurrected in 2009). The Holy Quartet of Burning River, Elliot Ness, Dortmunder Gold and Burning River would shine among the often drab selections in the grocery aisle. Blackout Stout would sate lovers of deepest, darkest ale, and Lake Erie Monster could survive on the shelves this far inland. And have you heard about Christmas Ale and its Northeast Ohio holiday tradition?

Goose Island
Goose Island entered my world shortly after Great Lakes. Their beautiful pub in Chicago is a must-visit for beer nerds (plus, it's a block from Sam's Wine & Spirits, and their crisp, clean ales would shake up the grocery aisle. For a time, I just rotated between Honker's Ale, their IPA and the exquisite Oatmeal Stout. None let me down (this year's spoiled Mathilda was another matter). The Chicago favorite's line of wild-yeast, barrel-aged beers would be a hot seller at their affordable price (Tennessee's alcohol taxes would push them up a little, but not dramatically so).

Allagash
This perennial favorite also inexplicably skips Atlanta for Nashville. Maine's finest could elbow out some competitors with its mighty Grand Cru and White ales, while simultaneously appeal to the high-end crowd with its oak, grape and yeast experiments. Their Grand Cru could be my favorite strong session ale, as the brewery truly pushes to create a special ale.

Southampton
I include this Long Island institution out of respect and curiosity. I haven't sampled beyond their fantastic saison and double white, so self-interest demands I have access to more. But Ommegang quickly caught on - I have Vanderbilt docs at the store who swear by the Abbey Ale. Another competitor in the strong Belgian-style arena would not hurt. With Boulevard leaving, there's a void to fill, and Phil Markowski's concoctions, especially his august double white, would more than cover the distance. We created an army of strong Belgian-style wit drinks thanks to Boulevard Two Jokers, so the market exists.

A New Ohio Christmas Ale Tradition: 12 Dogs of Christmas Ale

2010-12-14T07:48:00.005-06:00

An inch of snow carpeted my neighborhood, so for the first time since my move, Nashville feels as if holiday spirit has taken hold.

But one Cleveland holiday tradition has been sabotaged by greed. Great Lakes Christmas Ale (GLCA) ran short in Columbus. By all accounts, it never reached the shelves in many stores, with customers ordering by the case. Other stores limited customers to one six-pack. It takes nothing away from the taste; I just tired of the difficulty in getting it from Ohio. When my ultra-secret delivery system came to Nashville, it brought 12 GLCAs and 12 from Thirsty Dog.

As an alternative, 12 Dogs of Christmas performs deftly. They pack it with ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg. The honey glides underneath. It does not have the same mighty undercurrent of honey as GL Christmas Ale does. The honey definitely smooths out the The tones of honey in 12 Dogs mingle nicely with a dark malts that radiate mild chocolate, tobacco leaf, and chicory. Without the bees’ effort, the malts would less balanced turns. 12 Dogs has a medium brown body, leaving me fearful of the dreaded dark, uneventful Christmas ale sprung by too many craft brewers. Smooth and spicey wins the holiday ale race, which Thirsty Dog clearly understands.

Does 12 Dogs open a new tradition? Love GLCA as I have, I cannot be slave to any beer.

Thirsty Dog goes the rounded, high alcohol route (8.3 percent) and establishes 12 Dogs as a premier Ohio holiday beer. That lands it in excellent company.

November, and All its Pouring

2010-12-10T09:04:00.003-06:00

Rockmill Tripel Organic Golden Ale
Lancaster, Ohio
Sampled: Nov. 7, 2010
Rockmill leaves me so many points to begin. Amid its creamy ice cream I taste tones of lemon zest, coriander, pineapple, mango, and mid-palette, some banana and clove step in. Coriander seed has become turned into the Tripel ingredient American brewers inexplicably overdo, a la hops. A little goes far, and Rockmill goes with a lot. A few months in the dark will mellow out the coriander, but it overwhelmed other flavors at this stage. In different samplings, the coriander gets usurped by a feisty patch of burnt orange. The finish sweeps away some residual bitterness in a creamy wave. Rich, deep, and Belgian-style, Rockmill Tripel almost approached a quadruple-style in terms of complexity.

Boulevard Harvest Dance Wheatwine-Style Ale
Kansas City, Mo.
Sampled: Nov. 7, 2010
The folks at Boulevard obviously went with wheatwine because no other classification comes closes – even wheatwine is a stretch at times. Its bouquet runs clean with strains of wheat and black pepper. Then the citrus bowls them over, with fists of nectarine and peach, followed by a touch of pineapple. The use of Citro and Hallertau hops atop the wheat malt undoubtedly helped. Those fruits hit the front palette with copious levels of sweetness. Harvest Dance is pretty mellow for strong ale, finishing rich with fruit and esters dominating. Here the oak finally asserts itself. Bottle aging worked well to tackle the oak before it ran wild. The hops provide ample cushion for the wheat. Furthermore, Harvest Dance pleases while defying description, creating its own niche and making a firm case for tossing out beer styles that only serve to box in creative brewers.

30th Anniversary 4.0: Three Ales, One Bottle
Sierra Nevada Grand Cru
Chico, Calif.
Sampled: Nov. 13, 2010
My prohibition on touching any barleywine before it sits six months means jumping out of order to sample Sierra Nevada’s last anniversary brew, its Grand Cru. The ale blends Celebration Ale, SN Pale Ale and oak-aged Bigfoot barleywine (OK, it’s isn’t a strict prohibition). With a creamy lace, it cannot hide its central character – lots of hops layered with oak. It presents all three beers in succession – the oaked, malty might of Bigfoot cascades into Celebration’s warming holiday spices, then the hoppy Pale Ale conclusion. With each pass, the blend offers intriguing notes. In most cases, the oak wins the closing arguments, leaving spearmint traces throughout. Dry hopping exerts a greater influence than the pale ale component. I can’t wait to try another in six months, when the oak and the dry-hopping begin to mellow. The final Anniversary ale is definitely worthy trying, but miles from transcendence.

Great Lakes Brewing Nosferatu
Cleveland, Ohio
Sampled: Nov. 23, 2010
An image of F.W. Murnau’s vampire adorns the bottle and the rest of Nosferatu is purely Cleveland. With caramel and rich toffee that threatens the turn out notes of cocoa powder above a little red fruit, Nosferatu hinges on the convergence of its disparate flavors. Fortunately, it hurdles that obstacle. This highly complex red ale rivals some Scotch ales in character, but wins for its easygoing demeanor. The red fruits frequently break out into a peppery finish. There’s enough flavor here to ensure none of them dominate. The body glides over the palette aside from a malty bump near the finish. The finish is surprisingly sweet, with a little grapefruit and lemongrass squeezed out. Nosferatu stands up well against the few domestic old ales – it’s fruitier than Erie’s Railbender and does not let its alcohol content define it as rigidly as North Coast’s Old Stock Ale.

Nogne Winter Ale
Grimstad, Norway
Sampled: Nov. 28, 2010
At Nogne’s latitude, I expected intimate knowledge of ale to satisfy palettes and stomachs in winter. Its winter ale has an opaque inky body crowned by a thin effervescent lace. The nose runs thick with hazelnut and citrus peel. Dark winter ales touting salvos of spice have bored me for ages. Nogne delivers. (Digression: Coined by no less than Henryk Ibsen, Nogne means “naked island” in Norwegian and refers to the rocky islands off its coast). Vaguely stout-like, the ale has a viscous, sometimes sweet darkness that delves into layered roasted textures. Nogne quickly bypasses all winter ale conventions as the rare dark, strong winter ale that never sacrifices drinkability. The brewer’s Grimstad water adds a dimension that only local water can. Through its 21 ounces, Nogne never gives up its creamy lace nor does its alcohol content turn it into liquid bread. The roasted bitterness does spike at times, but that’s a minor quibble. With its exotic spice bouquet and local ingredients, this Norwegian brewer cast a new spell on winter beer.

Goose Island Sofie
Chicago, Illinois
Sampled: Nov. 28, 2010
If you poured Sofie into a pint glass, it could be mistaken for mass-produced American lager – until the sharp bouquet kicks in. The lively brettanomyces-rich nose explodes with esters, spice and B vitamins courtesy of the yeast. Hypnotic streaming bubbles race into the velvety cream head. Sofie drinks like a saison with heavy brett activity. A portion of the ale received barrel aging but the oak imparts little character. However, the brett turns Sofie into a wine-like beer. The orange peel and barrel time allow unexpected characteristics to rise. The brett turns gentler fruits such as a mild pineapple and pear into a distinct bone-dry orange inflected with passion fruit. A fine sour note rises from the dry finish, revealing the brett’s skill at lurking into the background and revealing itself when appropriate. Not all wild yeasts comply with that. Sofie departs from that orthodoxy in a way Mathilda does not, making Sofie the more intriguing libation. I wish I bought a second for cellaring.

Rage Not Essential for Flying Dog's Mongrel Belgian

2010-12-09T08:05:00.005-06:00

Flying Dog Raging Bitch Belgian-Style IPA
Sampled: Dec. 8, 2010

My love-hate relationship with Flying Dog spans a decade; they produce some decent beers, but occasionally run off the rails. Raging Bitch never lives up to its name, and that's a blessing. Brewed for Flying Dog’s 20th anniversary, this Belgian IPA establishes itself as a hallmark of this emerging style. It presents itself with a creamy, rapidly fading head and a deep copper body.

The nose is intensely florid with hints of spice and a sharper tone of hazelnut occasionally poking through. Raging Bitch finishes dry and rounded, with a little ambient bitterness. The complexity masks the high alcohol content (8.3 percent). A nice vein of rounded grapefruit runs throughout, with a medley of other citrus tones (tangerine,a splinter of peach) to buttress it. Belgian IPA is a relatively new concoction, launched when Belgian brewers began catering to overhopped American tastes by excessively hopping their tripel ales (see Houblon Chouffe for one egregious example). They never tasted like anything but dry-hopped tripels.

Here, American brewers actually demonstrate superior skill in blending Belgian yeast with high hop contents. Between New Belgium’s Belgo and Raging Bitch, the style leans domestic. I'm probably the only one disappointed to see Sam Adams Belgian IPA lost out to Revolutionary Rye for its 2011 American Classics.

Credit Flying Dog’s choice of dry hopping with Amarillo – it imparts the right level of bitterness and contributes to the floral bouquet that never lightens. The Amarillo brings the necessary element of dry citrus without overwhelming the beer's Belgian curves. The addition of Columbus and Warrior hops does not .

Even IPA skeptics should try it -- Raging Bitch has none of that bitter bite, opting for a smoother, cleaner experience. With its bouquet, I can forgive a lot. Raging Bitch handles its time in heat with maturity often lacking from Flying Dog brews.

Ale Not Found in a Secondhand Store: Raspberry Saison

2010-12-02T07:56:00.004-06:00

Sampled: Repeatedly between Oct. 2 and Dec. 1, 2010

For all the wild variations on wheat and fruit beers sampled in 2010, the choice for my favorite saison is a complex, drinkable concoction from Wisconsin's Stevens Point Brewery, its Whole Hog Raspberry Saison. The name Stevens Point evokes summer, yet I didn’t discover it until October.

Whole Hog deserves accolades no matter the season. The brewery's line of limited edition, high gravity beers has not failed me.

Only the use of raspberries ties it to Belgian framboise lambic. This ale sports a fine fruit veneer the coat the slightly coarse terrain native to a saison.

With minimal lace, Stevens Point carries a slight violet shadow. The nose has a soft raspberry undertone But it goes so much farther than raspberries – name the bramblefruit, and there are traces of it lurking within.

The finish is somewhat bitter, with a light bump of pale malt asserting itself above a bed of alcoholic pepper. Mostly, the finish comes up clean with hints of creamy textures. At 7.2 percent , it doesn’t mess around, even when it quenches so splendidly.

Not much spice rides through this saison, but nothing about it aims toward typical. It qualifies as a fruit beer, but one which reaps the reward of additional complexity. Saison is a seasonal, local beer from the farmhouse tradition, so any local ingredients fit.

Warning: This beer ages unevenly, as do most saisons. An unfortunate murkiness emerged after two months in the cellar. At least it didn’t turn into the geyser I receive from a year-old bottle of Saison D’erp Mere.

Stevens Point already turned my thoughts to humid nights and an ample supply of raspberry saison for Summer 2011.

Solid Oak Aging: Allagash Musette

2010-12-01T08:29:00.002-06:00

Bottled: December 2006
Sampled: Nov. 25, 2010

I know not of young Musette, nor does its elder make me care.

Three years after its purchase, four years after bottling, it’s finally Musette time. This oak-aged beauty from Allagash is the last remnant from a Labor Day 2007 trip to Chicago that reunited old friends and netted me a fling with a wonderful girl. All the while, the Musette waited patiently, moved between two houses yet never left its dark confines.

But the time has come, and as the oldest item in my cellar, its overdue for pouring.
Allagash mixed up the wood it used to age this series, and Musette won the draw when I had once to choose on that Friday in Chicago.

The nose storms out like an Abt 12 or a Chimay Grand Reserve, with notes of chocolate and a subtle nuttiness as a backdrop. It strong resembles the aged versions of those beers. Wedged between the chocolate and nuts is a solid footing of grain and creaminess. For its ruby color, the oak is the dominant flavor. It makes a bold statement, showering the strong ale (10 percent ABV) in sparks of wood opens up new dimensions.

I thought the oak-aged trend had passed me by - every brewer who could find an unused barrel poured beer into it. But Allagash’s attention to detail and ability make it an ale for the ages. I’m not disappointed for lacking a young bottle of Musette, since the oak takes at least a few months to calm down.

For as light in colors Musette runs, it shares incredibly complex characteristics with a quadruple-style Belgian ale. The oak herds those flavors into a smooth whole, taking some unruly notes such as molasses and a touch of root vegetables and tamping them down. They lurk beneath but never supersede the oak veneer.

Musette makes the case for letting oak-aged creations sit and wait. It also proves Allagash's skill at crafting beer built for the ages.

Local Berry, Ancient Beverage: Hidden Legend Huckleberry Mead

2010-11-01T15:31:00.004-05:00

Sampled: Oct. 31, 2010

Local ingredients always intrigue me, and anyone who saw the Mountain West beer logs knows of my fondess for huckleberry products. The Hidden Legend Winery in Victor, Montana produces a lineup of meads with local ingredients, as well as dandelion wine.

This mead pours with a pale strawberry color, with almost no effervescence, as it should be. The nose is highly floral, with a dash of black pepper. As a blend of 60 percent honey wine and 40 percent, both flavors run evenly from nose to finish. The honey brings its sweetness and rounded textures, with the huckleberries pushing up against it with a strong, complex tartness. It delivers plenty of huckleberry and honey.

Not that the huckleberry mead lacks surprises. A distinct nuttiness manifests before the finish with an intense dose of hazelnut. It almost made me wonder if a finger of Frangelica lurked in this mead (obviously, there wasn't). Huckleberries swarm in the finish with a delightful tartness softened by the honey.

Why must most mead producers have labels with a surly Viking? Yes, the beverage has origins in the Medieval England and the Nordic countries. But this mead would pour just fine minus the stock imagery.

The brewery uses Montana honey and local fruit in its other fruit meads – wild elderberry, chokecherry and dry chokecherry. Next time in Montana, I could fill the suitcase with mead alone, so long as they all pour as beautifully as the huckleberry version.

Dogfish Head Runs the Voodoo Down

2010-10-24T16:06:00.004-05:00

Sampled: Oct. 24, 2010

Note: Bitches Brew made a limited appearance in Nashville. This beer and most I will sample in the coming months were made possible thanks to a beer trade with fellow beer lover Jason Main.

Delaware's finest brewery conjured this oddball stout to commemorate the 40th anniversary of Miles Davis groundbreaking Bitches Brew album. As with that seminal jazz record, Dogfish spruces up an oft-brewed style with delectable flourishes.

At first glance, Bitches Brew seems a fairly typical imperial stout, with a deep brown roasted head and midnight black body. The honey and gesho root expand the boundaries quickly. They say three fingers of imperial stout and "one finger of honey beer with gesho root," but it tastes closer to strong stout enhanced with honey and gesho root. Since Bitches Brew undergoes several primary fermentations with the imperial stout and the Tej, an African honey beer, they are correct. I should know better than to second-guess Sam Calagione when it comes to beer.

For the record, I have no idea what to expect with gesho root, an Ethiopian shrub substituted for hops (which don't grow in Africa - thanks, Wikipedia). It definitely delivers a jab of subdued bitterness near the finish. Both serve to mask the hefty 10 percent ABV.

The honey I can handle. it imparts an ambient canvas of sweetness, not unlike a jazz drummer gently working the skins, and cuts the harsher aspects of roasted malts. The root steps in at the finish. Instead of a rounded honey-produced closing, we get the root's earthy tones that bear a passing resemblance to the effect of the chicory on Dogfish Head's winter stout. The parade through different flavor countries is not one I can repeat regularly, but worthy of a one-time ride.

Legend of This Fall: The Bruery Autumn Maple

2010-10-23T22:45:00.006-05:00

Sampled: Oct. 23, 2010

The Bruery strikes again with an autumn ale bursting with ingenuity. Topping off a Belgian brown ale with a concoction of spice, molasses, maple syrup and yams (read that last one again), the Orange County brewery demonstrates the best traits of American craft beer.

Root vegetables add an unmistakable character to beer, whether beets or yams. With my novice knowledge of wine I would describe it as an earthiness, which only builds on the complexity those touches of molasses and syrup began. Autumn Maple has a tight effervescence, with the flavors emanating sassafras notes that recall small-batch root beer. The nose is a powerhouse with the yams, molasses and syrup all competing for time. The yams definitely take the lead role after a second sniff.

All those flavors dovetail into the creamy, slightly sweet finish native to Belgian brown. The mingling of all these flavors has a wine-like character. Despite all those heavy attributes and a 10 percent ABV, it's an unexpectedly light Belgian brown. It's more Chimay Red and Chimay Grand Reserve, and the array of brew-kettle additions makes for a transcendent experience. Aside from Utopias, I cannot imagine a more rewarding experience with malt beverage and maple syrup.

The Bruery touts Autumn Maple as a beer that can age five years. As tantalizing as that sounds, I couldn't imagine waiting on an original beauty like this fall brown ale. Few beers cling to the season as well as Autumn Maple.

Rye as a Fox: French Broad Dry Hopper Ale

2010-10-06T19:43:00.004-05:00

Sampled: Oct. 6, 2010

After two beers from French Broad, I might need a trip to Asheville. If southern brewers can claim any beer as their own, it would be the rye ale (god-awful pecan beers exempted). My first year in Nashville leaned heavily on Terrapin's Rye Pale Ale. French Broad outdoes them from the beginning, its florid nose bursting with red and dark fruits like dates, but after a fresher scale than I expected. Hints of blood orange, apple lead into the golden-brown body and its rye luxury.

Don't ask me to explain the chemistry, but I believe rye serves as a better anchor for the kettles full of hops demanded by American palettes. Rye's deep textures alternately throw off flavors, starting sweet and finishing dry, where the grain really comes on strong. The head bubbles briefly, instilling a little creaminess which vanishes into the rye.

Despite its 5.9 percent ABV, Dry Hopper effectively masks its alcohol content with the dry malty finish. It reminds me of the Stone's "black" IPA, mixing new malts with stronger layers of hops. If anything, Dry Hopper serves up a delightful change from brewers that think IPA is the only avenue to complex, hoppy beer. Let's get an Asheville trip on the calendar.

So That Explains 'Special': French Broad 13 Rebels ESB

2010-10-01T21:41:00.005-05:00

As a style, Extra Special Bitter has caused massive yawns from American hopheads. When executed properly, it delivers a sharp hop flavor all its own. This ESB from Asheville brewery French Broad hits all the marks - slightly hoppy and exquisitely bitter, 13 Rebels is prototypical craft ale, respecting its origins while boldly blazing a new path.

Highly floral and with a hint of red fruits and even licorice, the bouquet blows away most imported versions. That lactose sweetness emerges from the malt, sticking on the palette until the bitterness descends.

The best moment had yet to arrive. Buried in the bitter is a peach, nectarine and possibly plum tartness; the unexpected fruit exhibit from the hop is so surprising it's hard to catch every flavor it radiates. that little slice of fruitiness pushes onto new ground without challenging the ESB's necessities. Chalk it up as the most original bouquet to dazzle these senses all year.

French Broad spins a British style in its own fashion without traipsing across ESB with an explosion of hops, malt or other ingredients.

These North Carolina brewers merely give the British a run for their money, exactly the expectation we should have of 13 Rebels. All session ale should scale such heights.

In Gourd We Trust: Saranac Pumpkin Ale

2010-09-18T22:14:00.009-05:00

Sampled: Sept. 18, 2010

With a seven-mile run due in the morning, I decided to break my beer embargo after 10 days to sample the season's inaugural pumpkin ale courtesy of Saranac. It might still hit the 90s here on a regular basis, but pumpkin ale doesn't stick around long and rarely tastes appropriate once daylight savings ends. Saranac Pumpkin has a mighty nose of clove, cinnamon, and even vanilla flirting at the edges, within the bounds of pumpkin ale standards, but fresh and lively nonetheless. Cloves can easily submerge competing flavors in a beer (see Tremens, Delirium). Luckily Saranac blends it well with the other autumn spices to avoid such unpleasantness.

The pumpkin is balanced, not overwhelming; it presents itself as more of an expansive backdrop than a punchy, upfront blast of gourd. The deep amber body hides more hints of spice, especially the clove and cinnamon. The vanilla has the roundness of beans instead of the sharp corners of extract, and arrives on the finish. That prevents the pumpkin from blotting out the spices, and a few traces of spearmint add some ruffles to the vanilla.

Light and with little impact from hops or malt, Saranac has created a tribute to the gourd's role in harvest beer. In this fashion, pumpkin works effectively by not doing too much; in stronger ales, more pumpkin presence helps mitigate the alcohol content. Here, it works better in its supporting role.

A year might have passed since my last pumpkin ale, but ages have passed since I taste one with this level of complexity at a session beer's alcohol content. Highly recommended, it's another victory for the venerable Saranac brand from Upstate New York. The leaves are probably turning up there, and I could enjoy this pumpkin ale until they lose their green in Tennessee.

Big Sky's Monk Bucks Tripel Conventions

2010-09-14T09:28:00.003-05:00

Big Sky Brewing, Co., Missoula, MT
Sampled: Sept. 6, 2010
Outside of the euphoric holy man from St. Bernardus, it's rare to see monks on a beer label having so much fun. But this powerhouse Tripel hails from Missoula, so a little lightheartedness seems to fit. Creamy with a slight effervescence on its finish, Buckin' Monk shares more with Bosteels' Tripel Karmeliet than other ales in this stable. The malt mixes different grains - wheat, barley and oats - mingle and give it a surprisingly rustic feel.

It has coriander, although not on par with most other American tripels. Besides, there's too much else going on for the spice to put on a strong show. Buckin' Monk proves deceptively smooth and skilled at hiding its alcohol content (10 percent ABV, which could push higher given the amount of sediment present).

Eight strains of Belgian yeast sounds excessive, but it never mucks up the works. The brilliant bitte orange follows the complex grain textures that give rise to cracker and biscuit notes one usually seen in English ales. Creaminess runs from lace to finish, with traces of Hallertauer hops and the effervescent feel also present.

Big Sky takes cues not only from several pale styles to craft a strong Belgian-inspired ale suited for the Northern Rockies.

Down the Street: Madison River Brewing

2010-09-13T18:37:00.011-05:00

Rain dashed hopes of walking to the last stop on this Montana brewery tour - Madison River Brewing in Belgrade, the first brewery I saw in Montana (it sits adjacent to Gallatin Field, Bozeman's airport). It would not be missed as long as it was only a mile down the road.

The rain poured as I stepped into the industrial taproom, which contained only a barhand, a patron and a border collie/husky mix lounging on the floor. Behind the bar, a wet-dry board track their "Buy a Beer for a Friend" program - you had to redeem it six months after purchase. The bottling line clanged in the background, and barley perfumed the air. I had sampled most of Madison River's brews in the bottle or on tap at Montana AleWorks, so their chalkboard coughed up some surprises.

Fortunately, they still had the last keg of Saison . Madison River takes some unusual steps with its saison, adding limes to the brew kettle. The lime and honey backbone definitely made for a cleaner experience than most saisons. But the spice and hop on the finish rough it up enough to fit saison's expansive definition. I never expected an encore from my Montana Beer Festival experience in April.

If I had scheduled my trip any later, I might have missed the Parachute Pilsner as well. A new addition to their regular lineup, they were down to four kegs. Balanced beyond belief, this was an assertive take on pilsner brimming with fresh ingredients. Too many American pils fall prey to American brewers' love of hops, but this one manages to pack in beautiful textures of grain and a touch of sweetness prior to the hop bitterness. Domestic pilsner rare hits such heights, so maybe Parachute was the appropriate name.

As I finished the pilsner, the taproom rapidly filled with a surprising age range of drinkers. The husky-border collie began circulating, perhaps in an attempt to herd, but it had no idea what drunk, unpredictable beasts that would soon surround it.

To close (damn state brewery regulations), I returned to Copper John, Madison River's Scotch-Style Ale. The gentlemen at the bar had a growler and a pint, so I couldn't turn down one more scotch ale. This Wee Heavy blew away the Cold Smoke I came to view as the bellwether for Montana Scotch ales. The creamy malt nose bore traces of smoke. Copper John threw out flavors of cherry (very faint yet critical to its appeal), sassafras, chicory and molasses, all of which took brief bows behind the supple red malts defining this mighty ale. It served as a stronger companion to the Charlie Russell Red that started the tour seven days earlier.

The bartender and I chatted about beer a little. He tipped me off the next concoctions under consideration, a quick Oktoberfest (it was already September) or moving onto a fresh hop ale with hops he grew and with some courtesy of Montana State University's hop-growing efforts.

At almost every brewery, they were glad to see faces from across the country. Howie, the bartender at Madison River, was no different, tossing me a sticker with my Salmon Fly Honey Rye T-shirt. I didn't get another Salmon Rye thanks to the law, but I could not forget its delicate yet complex blend of rye malt and honey.

Those pints meant the end of my brief tour, but strengthened my resolve to take another and finish off the breweries missed this time.

I'm Your Huckleberry: Bitter Root Proves Best Beer is Local with Summer Seasonal

2010-09-11T18:13:00.006-05:00

Bitter Root Brewing, Hamilton, MT
Sampled: Sept. 8, 2010
Hunting down ale brewed with huckleberries proved tougher than I imagined. Great Northern offered a huckleberry wheat lager, but their standard lager tasted nearly identical Yuengling. While I always enjoy a Yuengling, I craved something a little different, that might push boundaries.

Then I stumbled upon Huckleberry Honey Ale, another lush libation from Bitter Root Brewing of Hamilton, Montana. The brewer only sells its brews in 22 oz. bomber bottles at retail, and the quality shows.

Now, if I had a girlfriend, this bottle would cause obvious problems. Not only is the label provocative, but Huckleberry Honey is a triumphant summer ale, with perfect layers of fruit, wheat malt and honey. If I made its way out of the Mountain States, I would always make room for a few bombers.

At first past, Huckleberry Honey tastes remarkably similar to other perky wheat ales produced with bramble fruit - the Northeast blueberry beers, Sam Adams Blackberry Witbier and Eel River's Acai Wheat. What separates it are the fruit's own properties and the presence of honey. The huckleberry goes in slightly different directions, Sine they are sweeter than blueberries, sharpens the flavors sharpen in Huckleberry Honey until the honey comes to round off the edges.

The huckleberries impart a bitterness that steamrolls most hop aroma and leaves only residual bitterness . The berry doesn't quite pucker the mouth with its tart qualities, the perfect way for a summer thirst quencher to hit the palette. That's where the honey emerges, mingling with the wheat while softening those tart textures with a milder sweetness.

Huckleberry Honey opens new horizons for fruit ales with that local honey. Once again, the skill of Western Montana's best brewery bubbles to the top.

In the Zone: Bozeman Brewing Company

2010-09-10T09:57:00.003-05:00

Following an early dinner at the Garage, I turned down Broadway, crossed the tracks for my three pints at the Bozeman Brewing Company. It sat in the middle of a neighborhood (I didn't take a picture, so enjoy the mountaintop Bozeman shot - I'm sure the brewery is in there somewhere). The taproom's exterior radiated an Old West vibe with its dark wood paneling and railed porch.

Odors of malted barley thickened the air of the sparsely occupied space. Four middle-aged regulars held court over the bar, essentially daring anyone else to grab a seat. Instead of jousting with them, I sprawled out at a pub table.

Sucker I might be, the Belgian-Style Wit Bier demanded the first taste. It ran a strong second to Beltian White. The subtle orange and lemon run into pineapple and a trace of white grape (seriously). On the finish, cloves take center stage with a supporting case of wheat malt. Bozeman Brewing doesn’t break new ground on its wit, but nails the style.

Since I had sampled their main brews on previous trips, I switched octanes to Hopsimellia Imperial IPA. I’m not sure if brewers are running short on pun-filled nicknames for IPAs, but if someone calls it imperial, it better have balance amid a strong grapefruit body. The hop is strong, not overwhelming, with equal parts biter and sour colliding on the finish and sticking with the palette. The malts imparted some caramel to soften the mighty grapefruit. This worthwhile high-alcohol IPA avoids the trappings of double IPA to stay balanced and drinkable at nearly 10 percent ABV.

Having missed Harvestfest Lager (their Oktoberfest) and not arriving soon enough for their Belgian Tripel or their fresh-hopped ale, I ended with Watershed Pale Ale, their newest lineup addition. Watershed was solid if unspectacular pale ale, extremely fresh and bitter with a golden body. I could have been suffering from hop overkill at this point, and would probably sample Watershed again.

Bozeman Brewing was not a place for a traveler to belly up to talk craft beer. Everything had a workman's ethic to it, even the bartender. It was still a worthwhile stop for lively pints.

Pints on a Distant Horizon: Saturday in South-Central Montana

2010-09-10T09:13:00.006-05:00

Down from the Mountain: Red Lodge Ales
Led by its friendly bartender, Ross, the Red Lodge crew served me pints while obliging numerous families wanting soft-drink refills. Their winter firewood holder has been drafted into service as playground equipment on the lawn of their expansive patio.

It didn’t top the aesthetics of Stone’s one-acre garden in Escondido, but it definitely broke from the taproom template. Old kegs replaced table legs, beer bottles clustered around ceiling bulbs to provide ambient light. Lying north of Red Lodge’s packed commercial district it had the vibe a lazy Saturday afternoon demanded.

Red Lodge’s restaurant status allowed it to avoid the draconian limits placed on taprooms. But its distance from anywhere else (60 miles from Billings, 45 miles from Columbus the next town of any size) made it a risk to pass those limits.

Coming from the Beartooth Highway, only its namesake, Beartooth Pale Ale, would suffice. Proceeding with a nice hop bitterness, it throws off nutty notes, with the citrus extending to lemon and even a grapefruit fringe. The lemon tones tend to coat the palette, preparing it for the hop rush to come. For calming nerves after a mountaintop drive, it worked quite well.

I moved onto the Hefeweizen, poured in proper glassware. It was lighter than many German-style wheat ales, clean and with a crisp grain textures.

Red Lodge's fall seasonal, a robust Oktoberfest Lager, came last, but hardly least. Amber-orange and shimmering, the ruby fruits of this Montana Marzen never messed around. Clean and refreshing, its burnt orange character steamrolls most domestic attempts at the German style. Were I not far from home, I could have finished mug after mug. Red Lodge’s Oktoberfest. Unfortunately, I had to thank Ross and put the Beartooth Range behind me.

Sea Gods in Horse Country
What does Neptune have in common with Yellowstone’s First Gateway? Strangely enough, Romans also regarded Neptune as a horse god, and Livingston’s culture sports deep equine ties. The brewery’s owner also served a stint in the Navy and small bust of Neptune he owns adorns the counter at the small taproom. My grandfather, his twin brother and my great-grandfather all came through Livingston in the 1930s on the Yellowstone route.

My railroad ancestors piqued my interest in the little town on the Yellowstone River east of the Bozeman Pass. Neptune’s brews take different paths with traditional beer styles, defying expectations at every turn.

After closing with an Oktoberfest at Red Lodge, Neptune’s Oktoberfest Lager couldn’t have varied more from the traditional amber lager. With a little smoke on the nose, this dark, malty lager clocks in at 8.9 percent ABV, a little strong for celebrating the Bavarian holiday. Rich with molasses, dates and other dark fruits, a touch of sweetness flares up before the smooth finish that features some dark, distant berries.

The bartender gave me samples of several other brews With a little zing and liveliness, the Reserve Barleywine came out hoppier than the malt-bombs typical of the heavy English style. Skipping the corn, Neptune’s infused Smooth Sailing Cream Ale with lactose to create the sweet, creamy finish. It finished light-years beyond the swlll most Americans think of as cream ale.

The brewery poured its Chocolate Cream Porter and Clipper Nut Brown Ale at the Montana Beer Festival, but a reintroduction from the home tap did some good. The bartender assured me they had been refining the porter recipe, and it showed off. The porter was even creamier than I recalled, its nuttiness and chocolate notes almost decadent.

I returned to red for my final pint. Mermaid’s Tale Red Ale, a malty, pleasant session beer. It has little lace or head, but some easy-going red fruits on the front and a little fire on the finish.

With about 7,000 residents, Livingston didn't lack lively bar patrons. Everyone was chatty and interested in why some guy from Tennessee would drop in. While working on these pints, I talked blue grass with Norm, who was headed to Nashville for the Americana Music Festival. I actually predicted Robert Plant's appearance during the festival (which came true on Sept. 9). I gave him suggestions on top venues (Station Inn, for starters) and even my number if he wanted someone to buy him a beer. He won’t call, but that it was the least I could offer to the friendly taproom crowd at Neptune's.

The first Montana brew: Black Dog Ale

2010-09-08T17:54:00.002-05:00

Twelve years ago, at a quiet grocery in Tempe, I black Lab peering off a six-pack carton caught my eye. A decade would pass before I imbibed more Montana beer, but Black Dog Ale from Spanish Peaks Brewing was a strong introduction.

Once legal, I would continue to drink it any time I spotted one at the store in a far corner of a bar’s beer cooler. It vanished from the market for several years, but has begun popping up again in Nashville and elsewhere.

However, taste buds evolve; the palette will not hold. I reluctantly grabbed a six-pack of Black Dog English Style Amber from a Bozeman grocer.

The beer itself is fine, a nice smooth amber with the a little kick of malt. It’s a fine, no-frills session ale with a nice thrust of warming malt at its finish. Not enough brewers dabble in amber, much less one as friendly as Black Dog.

The bottle states the brewery was founded in Bozeman in 1991. Yet these days, Spanish Peaks Brewing Co. operates from Ukiah, Calif. Brewed in Bozeman and later Polson (if my tin sign is correct), this is a disappointment. The first beer I associated with Montana no longer has a home here. Plus the black dog on the label, Chug, is probably long dead.

With Chug in the ground and Black Dog brewed in California, not in the shadow of the Spanish Peaks where I sit now, I can no longer consider it a Montana brew, even though it originated from here.

Capital Brews: Blackfoot River Brewing Co., Helena

2010-09-08T17:35:00.003-05:00

With 30,000 residents, Helena supported two breweries, neither of which bottles their beers. The time restrictions placed on breweries meant I had to pick. South Park Avenue appeared on the state map, so Blackfoot River won out over the Lewis & Clark Brewing.

I arrived at a little but lively commercial strip filled with restaurants and a taproom with a crowded second-story balcony. Inside, it had a healthy crowd – most tables full and ample room for solo newcomers at the bar.

By instituting a growler-only line at the bar’s end, Blackfoot River avoided the Yazoo Taproom Line Problemprevalent in Nashville. This wasn’t just an outpost for hipsters, but an community brewpub covering all ages over 21. Parents walked in with children to fill their growlers. Younger people congregated at the bar and the seniors elbowed for an upper patio seat. Like most breweries, they had the requisite Heavily Bearded Due pouring pints.

When the bartender found out about my tour, she supplied me with some information about the brews and a punch card for my three pints.

My Sept. 3 experience with Blackfoot River began at the Swiss Lounge in Many Glacier with its Organic Pale Ale. OPA had nice mellow citrus flavor and balancing hop character. This pale ale veered toward the American variation, using organic Hallertauer and Cascade hopes from New Zealand. Cascade hops are among the strong Pacific Northwest types, but the New Zealand style felt less intense and better suited for pale ale. The ale produces a little lemon and pepper on the finish, and the pale malts make it a pretty solid golden pale. I don’t know if the novelty of USDA organic status separates it from other pale ales. But it went easy and with plenty of character.

At the brewery taproom, I started with their Belgian Trippel, brewed to a intimidating 12.6 percent ABV and served only in eight-ounce pours. The Trippel leads off with a stiff bouquet of fresh coriander, the most assertive spice and the one which hides the alcohol content most effectively. The citrus is clean and trimmed, with apricot breaking from the orange and a little white grape making a cameo. Despite its spiciness, it finished with a palette-cleansing creaminess. I would sample a superior Belgian Tripel on this trip, but Blackfoot River Belgian Trippel clearly showed ingenuity and kept this strong ale drinkable.

Mindful of the 70 miles left on the journey, I switched gears to their Cream Ale, which obliterated any thoughts of the atrocious Genessee Cream Ale from my college days. Slightly hopped with Cascade that doesn’t overwhelm, the key stroke in a cream ale proved that quality ingredients and not shortcuts improve a beer immensely. Blackfoot River uses flaked maize instead of the low-grade corn that sweetens many big-brewery ales. This is a prototypical session ale, it’s a biscuity affair with lots of lemon on the finish. A lot more Cascade rounds out the finish of this triumphant cream ale, but it's never outwears its welcome.

To close my Helena stop, I went with a half-pint of Tartanic Scottish Ale. It had the standard smoke and molasses on the first pass, some tar and tobacco in the body and a creamy finish. Some chocolate emerges as well. Tartanic leaves a surprising effervescence on the rear palette. It isn’t as heavy as most Scottish ales, a characteristic I won’t mourn. Tartanic comes out better for all its intricate parts. With my quota almost met, I shoveled back to Belgrade, with the most rewarding of brewery sites up Saturday afternoon.

Day 1: Fantastic Pints From the Cut Along Belt Creek

2010-09-07T20:52:00.005-05:00

“Wait … was that Belt?”

A collection of houses off Belt Creek and two unpaved roads left off the highway. It took two passes to find a proper entrance, then a mile of bumpy road before I could cross under the railroad tracks and enter Belt.

Immediately under the bridge, I glanced the familiar sight of brew tanks, these belonging to the Harvest Moon Brewery, the only craft brewer anywhere near Great Falls and North Central Montana.

Already familiar with their excellent Beltian White, a Belgian-style white ale and probably my favorite Montana beverage, I had to see what made this brewery tick. They only kept their taproom open until 4 p.m. Since I was their only afternoon visitor, I can't blame them.

Laws limit Montana microbrewers to closing at 8 p.m. and limiting patrons to three pints and one growler every 24 hours. To explain the lunacy of this, I can go into the casinos on almost every crossroads in this state and drink much later. But I can’t drink more than three craft beers a day. Yeah, that makes total sense.

The guys at Belt were friendly and more than willing to talk beer. They draw their water not from Belt Creek, but the Madison Aquifer deep below the region. Giant Springs in Great Falls is one spot where the aquifer water hits the surface. Since I was one of their few visitors that day, their operation revolves around bottling and now canning their top brews – Pig’s Ass Porter, Beltian White, and Charlie Russell Red, among others. Bottles and kegs made them known statewide. Now they canned Beltian White, although environmental friendliness slowed the amount of beer they could get out the door every day.

Despite my desire for a Beltian White from its source, I wanted to try new brew from Harvest Moon. The brewery staff started me with a Charlie Russell Red, the only outside product named for the popular Western artist’s (he was also a notorious drinker, so the staff told me his representatives had no problem with the connection). This clean yet spicy red ale almost went down like a lighter scotch ale. The red fruit flavors sat gently on the palette, then built toward a malty finale. It had a slight smokiness which amplified the malts and pushed the limits of what red ale can become.

I went for the typical with the next brew, a pale ale. Great Falls Select fell on the American side of pale ale, with a florid and sometimes nutty nose. The hops only expressed momentary bitterness, producing some nice citrus notes. For the final pint, I switched to their Nut Brown Ale, which was infused with a healthy dose of hazelnut extract. That created a sweet, pleasant finish not unlike Frangelica liqueur. After an initial creaminess, the lighter feel typical of a brown ale takes over. Unfortunately, the extract made me wonder what wonders they could have produced with actual hazelnuts, buty extract made it among the more usual nut browns, a style that often varies little from brewer to brewer.

Size meant nothing in Belt; the guys at Harvest Moon produced top-notch ales from a seldom-seen pocket of Montana. Only two breweries have more remote locations, but Harvest Mon has put Belt on the map.

Notes From August

2010-08-30T09:21:00.002-05:00

Ommegang Zuur
Flemish Brown Sour Ale with Cherries Added
Sampled: August 29, 2010

The latest limited edition ale from Belgian brewing’s best domestic torchbearers brings new light on a style seldom tried in the States, sour brown ale. Sour ales are among the most acquired tastes in brewing, and mouths often pucker with the first sample of a geuze or Belgian fruit ale. The Cooperstown-based brewer strikes gold through pairing a Flemish sour brown with an infusion of cherries.

Zuur perfectly strikes the balance between sour and fruit sweetness. The brown ale takes a few seconds to meet the cherry, but the moment they two collide makes the beer. Its lush cherry finish would overpower the palette without the opposing sour force, just as the sour brown cannot surpass its novelty.

With just a touch of hops and malt, the masses would barely qualify Zuur as beer. But it effectively pulls a quirky style away from the fringe. Drinkers of New Glarus’ cherry ale would enjoy the contrast, as would anyone familiar with Eric’s Ale (New Belgium). As much as I poured Eric’s Ale, I prefer Zuur and its 6 percent ABV. The dark flavors of cherries can thrive year-round, while the bright tartness of peach works better in summer. The tart character pulls out other fruits, including a healthy dose of plums.

I couldn’t imagine a beer brewed with cherries could ever join my regular libations. If Zuur ever sheds it limited status, it will prove me wrong.

Pilsner With a Purpose: Abita Save Our Shore
Sampled: Regularly throughout August

I truly wish Gulf Coast tragedies did not end so well for drinkers. Again, Abita has been pressed into making a charity beer. First came the fine Restoration Ale to benefit Hurricane Katrina reconstruction. Now, it drops Save Our Shore, its “charitable pilsner,” with 75 cents from every sale going to charities rebuilding the Gulf ecosystem spoiled by the Deepwater Horizon oil spill.

As with other Abita creations, SOS wasn’t hastily brewed. In fact, this wheat malt pilsner is one of the best domestic beers tasted this year, and among the best American pilsners ever. Light and crispy, the wheat malt does not drive it in any radical directions.

At 7.1 percent ABV, it runs a little strong to pour every day, but the cause behind these bomber bottles argues a strong case in favor of keeping a few around. Little head and lace, SOS has a gentle aftertaste and a little bit of playful hop bitterness.. American pilsners tend toward hoppier variations than this. SOS argues strongly for more pilsners with wheat malt. Since too often the style gets associated with skunked imports showing little character and domestic macrobrewers cutting their product with corn, it’s nice to see its resuscitation.

Hopefully it does not take a generation for the Gulf to rebound from the crude deluge. Beer drinkers can prove their worth by embracing this shockingly great pilsner. Few beers of any style have such incredible causes behind them.

Why I stopped giving grades

I came to a point recently where I abandoned the little ratings at the end of my reviews. The words should stand alone. Besides, what does 7.5 out of 10 really mean?

Look what ratings do – People smuggle Westvleteren 12 back to the States and sell it at astronomical prices because it received a perfect rating on Beer Advocate or Rate Beer. Aside from waiting in line when the monks release the beer or sipping it across the street from the monastery at Cafe Vrede. The monks don't take kindly to the black market has developed - they only sell enough to break even, and inflated demand. Pour a St. Bernardus Abt 12 or a Deus, then tell me sublime beer isn't available in many places.

We get more calls at the wine store about a certain Pappy Van Winkle whiskey than any other because some magazine dubbed it the world’s best whiskey. Every time something gets high marks, the herd’s stampede follows.

Stone’s label descriptions attract the love of frat boys everywhere – they produce some great brews, Arrogant Bastard is a pretty weak choice for an ale so eager to tout its greatness.

Numbers don’t matter. Knowing good beer from bad does. My ratings tended to be overly favorable anyway, because I don’t usually waste time on beer I don’t want to taste. I’m not getting compensated, and life is too short for lousy beer.

Between craft brew and homebrewing, good beer lies within anyone's reach. I'm just trying to provide a little direction, and when I post my vacation beer logs, serve a slice of the region's brewing culture.

Into a Glass, Darkly: Boulevard Dark Truth Stout

2010-08-19T21:02:00.005-05:00

At long last I face down Dark Truth, the strong stout from Kansas City's Boulevard Brewing Co. It quickly dashed my hopes of a Belgian-style stout, but impressed at the right moments.

Highly creamy nose with waves of expresso, toffee and dark fruits, likely dates or figs. The yeast might not impart Belgian characteristics, but the nose is a descendent of the luxuriously strong Trappist and Abbey ales.

This stout has none of the effervescence other Belgian-style stouts have presented. The creaminess drags it out of Russian imperial stout territory none too soon. Confession - I burned out on strong stouts some time ago. People would lap up any Russian imperial stout poured at the wine store, but the style has too many overlapping representations. Very few stand out from the pack, and fortunately Dark Truth veers off on its own.

Dark Truth finishes dryly with a few fingers of dark chocolate and a little ruby fruit - possibly cherry - although not the plum the label advertised. This fruitiness is more elusive and still sublime. The smokiness doesn't stick, drifting away as a layer of chocolate remains. A much-touted display of spice never rises from the German hops, but no matter; there's enough character beneath the surface of Dark Truth to compensate.

Save this bottle of opaque stout and all its complexities for the depths of winter. It's a solid drink in the heat of summer, but paired it would feel better when placed with rich desserts at a holiday meal. It might not reappear until next winter anyway, and its high alcohol content (9.7 percent ABV) makes it worth socking one away to age.

I wouldn't call Dark Truth a world-changer, but it possesses enough facets to keep up the surprises throughout a 750.

A Tale of Two Islands (Goose Island, that is)

2010-08-12T21:32:00.004-05:00

Back in May, several pours of Matilda on tap at the Hyatt soothed a poorly timed break-up.

The four-pack which returned to Nashville just bewildered me - there was nothing wild about the yeast at all. My taste buds didn't betray me - Goose Island let me down, which they freely admit here. Matilda drank like an American take on Orval; this was just turgid, unoriginal amber. Since I won't get a refund, I feel no remorse about ripping Goose Island for letting this swill onto the market.

Demolition is a different animal, a Belgian-style golden ale which packs in the flavor and hits all the high points any golden ale should strive for. Straw-colored, it reminds me of a less harsh version of Grimbergen Blonde; the spice bouquet is slightly mellower, which benefits the beer. It's a little too strong for a session ale, but dampening the spice usually found in mass-produced Belgian blonde (see Grimbergen or Leffe) means I won't look at the bomber bottle and groan knowing I have 14 ounces to go.

Demolition's appeal comes from an alluring mix of Saaz and Chinook hops and Pilsen malt. Citrus dominates and as the brewer's tasting notes remark, there is a little honey flavor mingling before the slightly bitter finale.

Citrus sometimes extends to passion fruit, with a little mango - and possibly guava? - to go with the lemon, tangerine and orange. The great mix of fruits elevates this above the typical Belgian blonde, and most American versions as well.

It's interesting that Demolition is a temporary ale -- no bottle conditioning, Goose Island recommends drinking it within 180 days of bottling. Three months after its bottling date, it already fills the glass with fine sediment, but it's more decorative than destructive.

I like to think of Demolition as the ale which tore down my memory of that bad batch of Matilda.

An Ecstasy of Spice: Great Divide Double Wit

2010-08-12T20:45:00.004-05:00

Hot days about double white ale pair too well. The strong version of Belgian wit has sprouted in wild directions in American, with Great Divide displaying the raw power of spices in producing a wit at 8.1 percent ABV.

The label bears the silhouette of a two-headed boy, which might be a Neutral Milk Hotel reference. There weren't a lot of references for fresh, cloudy ale inside.

Wheat malt runs thick on the nose, resulting in a stunningly fresh bouquet. The coriander and curacao present a rich front, finishing bone dry. The spice will stick around, but not to the extent of a saison. The citrus tones -primarily orange rounded out by a little pineapple and lemon - cannot escape their pull. A few twists of licorice appear near the finish without taking any obnoxious turns. Some grainy wheat textures emerge in the body, but texture separates a wit from a Blue Moon.

The spice helps it stand out against other American Double Whites, most notably the Boulevard Two Jokes I imbibed almost daily throughout Summer 2009. This reminds me more of Southhampton Double White from Long Island, which I had out of a tap in Cleveland. That a 22-oz. double white could pack the same flavor as kegged version speaks to the caliber of beer Great Divide brews.

Well worth a pour while summer lingers on ... just don't deface this strong quencher with an orange or lemon slice. It distracts from the nuanced citrus already defining this ale.

Definitely a domestic take on a Belgian wit, but it's hard to call Great Divide's result anything other than a success.

North Ridgeville's Finest: Mad Bee Honey Wheat

2010-08-11T20:19:00.003-05:00

What luck - a sketched label with a bee, possibly a mad one if the beer's name tells us anything, hovering above a honeycomb. That it comes from Northeast Ohio helped it over the hump and into my basket. It only comes in bomber bottles, often a sign of a brewer producing ales a cut above the rest.

Mad Brewer gives a fresh take on honey wheat, a style that has grown increasingly bogged down by uninspired brews with the faintest touch of honey. Mad Bee doesn't demonstrate any half-measures - it's loaded with honey noise to finish. A slight bitterness runs through Mad Bee, but the honey softens it on the finish. The head is amazingly light, with the lace vanishing into a few islands seconds after pouring.

Purists can argue the heresy of unfiltered wheat ales, but the style has rapidly grown on me since sampling a few from Montana. For all the Belgian wit and German hefe-weizen I have downed, taking the cloudiness from a wheat ale presents it in a whole different fashion, one lighter but just as quenching and full of textures.

The honey positively shines here, transforming an average quaffer into a highly memorable ale. This might taste better in autumn, as the filtering results in different fruits than a standard wheat ale. I pick up apple, a tiny trace of dark berries, plus shades of ginger and some other spices.

Mad bee is a gateway brew to two styles - filtered wheat ale, and honey ale. For its great pedigree as the main ingredient in mead, honey gets the short shrift in modern beer, even among craft brewers. Fortunately, it never gets dated. Mad Bee isn't just a great starting point for those styles, but its entire brewery.

A Fruity Spin on a Strong Belgian: Scaldis Peche Mel

2010-08-11T19:00:00.003-05:00

Thanks to Eric's Ale from New Belgium, I expected Scaldis Peche Mel to deliver a bomb of tartness to ripple my tongue. then I noticed this was simply Belgian ale with peach juice, not sour Belgium ale or wild-fermenting lambic.

What Scaldis Peche Mel delivered couldn't have tasted more different, and couldn't possibly serve as a better poster-child for ales infused with fruit. This one had me at the nose. A fist of flavors across the peach spectrum thrusts upward, encompassing every food I've ever tasted with peaches - cobbler, ice cream, peach pancakes, and Georgia peaches in the produce aisle announcing summer's arrival. Its richness almost defies description.

Scaldis Peche Mel spreads the flavors out beyond its mix of strong Belgian and peach juice - flashes of cherry, cranberry, lemon and even some plum to add heft on the finish. As it warms the peach asserts more dominance but glimpses of the others still appear. A little lemon and pear brighten the finish.

I don't know if actual peaches would have drastically changed this beer (other than making it prohibitively expensive), but the juice works wonders.

Those who've steered clear of regular Scaldis (aka Bush in Belgium) because of its high alcohol content need not fear Peche Mel. At 8.5 percent ABV, it's highly drinkable and perfect for scorching August days. Moreover, it shows the original nation of brewing innovators hasn't conceded the mantle yet.

Haunt me any time: Fantome Biere Artisanale Sur Lie

2010-08-08T18:32:00.005-05:00

Many years have flown by since I first tasted Belgian saison. When in Columbus recently, I stumbled onto the black and white ghost label of Fantome.

I have a soft spot for cheesy labels, especially ones with serious beer behind their glass. From that initial bottle found at Ancona's in Ridgefield, Conn., I knew never to shy away from that Belgian phantasm, which looks like a distant cousin of Casper.

After not seeing it since I headed south, spying Fantome in Clintonville's Palmer's Beverage was a mild rush. Although I nearly scoffed at the new price - $13.99, compared with $8.99 in 2004 - I needed to check Fantome for quality.

The brewery produces four Saisons annually and doesn't release its spice lineup, but make no doubt, it often surpasses the DuPont brewery as Belgian's top saison producer. Through the years, I've had their fine Noel and an intriguing noir version brewed with darker malts.

Brewed in the farmhouse style from the Ardennes Forest, it's a testament to the days when farmers crafted local ales from the ingredients available to them, a tradition alive and well in Belgium.

Unlike many saisons, this Fantome pours with a thick, quickly evaporating head and some spirited effervescence. Its initial bouquet bursts with a range of spices and a strong degree of minerality, which could be a result of the local water or conditions under which the ingredients were grown. Either way, more than any other beer style, saison owes a major debt to its environment.

This one has a delectable finish, as it a dose of honey was added to round and soften this Fantome. Nearly amber in color, there's plenty of burnt citrus flavors running with the spices, giving it complexity without sacrificing drinkability. Creamy tones run from the head to the finish. They might change the recipe from batch to batch, but almost anything from Fantome is archetypal saison. There might be a little bit of candied sugar included as a mild sweetness makes fleeting appearances.

Brewmaster Dany Prignon has done his due diligence with this saison, blending ingredients to produce an infective strong saison (8 percent ABV). Now if we can just get Fantome to work on its affordability - with plenty of $7-$10 saisons in the American market, even one of this caliber is a tough sell at $14.

Still, even one taste will make any saison lover or skeptic a believer in this Fantome's supernatural roots.

Mark it 12, Dude: Victory V-12

2010-08-04T20:53:00.003-05:00

This is one of the strongest Belgian-style amber ales I have tasted from an American brewer, with round, heavy fruit flavors backed up by peppery alcohol tones. It immediately made me think of Scaldis, the ultra-high-gravity beer known as Bush in Belgium and for the American market, renamed to sound like a venereal disease.

The tongue crests on a round hill of deep-rooted apricot, then descends into the pepper brought on by its 12 percent alcohol content, which almost certainly rose higher during 18 months of cellaring. V-12 leaves the palette cleanly, depositing some residual heat on the back of the throat. Victory advertises some pear, but I believe it has faded as the apricot sharpened and grew dominant. I detect slivers of other fruit, possibly a little mango, lichee and vague remnants of the aforementioned pear.

As the beer warms in the glass, its peppery tones diffuse and the malts take on a greater role amid the fruit. I'm glad Victory didn't make the mistake of many brewers and throw 12 malts or hops at a beer for the sake of an anniversary. It always turns into a high-alcohol mess. This ale is strong but nuanced, and more drinkable as it warms.

Blue Enough For Any Summer

2010-08-01T21:02:00.006-05:00

Drop a lemon or orange slice in my hefe-weizen, and a fight could result. Fruit has only one place in beer - inside the brew kettle, giving the yeast additional sugars for its feast.

After years of sticking with more straight-ahead beer styles, Boulder Beer Company has ventured into the fruit spectrum with Kinda Blue, a filtered America wheat ale (a la Big Sky Trout Slayer or Elevator's Mogabi), then added blueberries to round out the experience.

Blueberries and a dash of dry-hopping in the kettle has produced a Colorado spin on the fruit beer. Blueberry flavor immerses all facets of the ale without overwhelming it; there is ample fruit, but almost no tartness. The malt and fruit mingle excellently on the finish, each unwilling to blink in their staring contest. That stalemate is the drinker's gain, preserving the near-perfect drinkability.

A Boulder rep told me the brewery had been reticent about crossing into fruit beer; they shouldn't have been, because they show apt understanding of the fruit's role in beer. Kinda Blue floats by on a fruit current, barely revealing its wheat-malt origins, and by filtering the brew, there is no cloudiness to give it away. As Kinda Blue dances across the tongue, the roundness of the berries almost takes physical form, erasing any bitterness; any hop introduced into Kinda Blue is essentially invisible.

Much like Tommyknocker's TundraBeary, Kinda Blue lets the berry backdrop move the ale into a refreshing place. In a cold 22-oz. bomber, it couldn't be more refreshing. Do your damndest to root out this fantastic Front Range brew.

Best from the First: Chateau Jiahu

2010-08-01T17:39:00.002-05:00

Give it to Dogfish Head - they can find the archeologists searching for ancient alcohol around the globe. At 9,000 years old, this recipe comes from scientific studies of the oldest known example of brewing, fresh from Yellow River sites.

So take that, Ziggurat Brewing Company and Old Hammurabi Ale (to my knowledge, no such beers exist).

Despite origins in early civilization, Chateau Jiahu couldn't taste more contemporary.

For starters, the nose is sublime, with slivers of malt cutting through once tempered by the honey. Brewed with honey, hawthorn fruit and grape concentrate, it still tastes closer to an unhopped beer than any wine, but represents another staggering exhibit in Dogfish Head's push into new brewing frontiers. the honey imparts a softness to the whole experience - there's not a bittering agent within ten brew kettles of Chateau Jiahu. Any expectation that the grape concentration might give this brew a wine-like turn is thankfully dashed. The grape definitely asserts itself, but as a widespread backdrop, not a forceful flavor.

Beware of the alcohol content, the characteristic at which Chateau Jiahu most resembles a wine. Honey adds softness, but it adds to the brew time, and the more time those yeast cultures have to devour the honey, the more alcohol they create.

Dogfish Head's ancient ale series - Theobrama, Midas Touch and Sa'Tea - all express different colors of the beer spectrum, few which modern taste buds have sampled. This might be the best of them all, since it can easily cross alcoholic lines. Pour it for the non-beer lover in your life, and watch them convert.

Sierra Nevada Anniversary Ale 2.0: Imperial Helles Bock

2010-07-18T21:53:00.005-05:00

Sampled: July 18, 2010

Since first sampling Sierra Nevada's rich anniversary stout back in Boise, I wondered what lied up next. they produced his strong blond lager in cooperation with two homebrewing giants, Charlie Papazian and Ken Eckhardt.

The barley imparts a slightly creamy nose, with fresh ingredients urging the drinker onward. Surprisingly estery and fruity, it bears no resemblance to SN's Glissade spring bock. More often than any other beer style, bock gets bogged down in stereotypes; past generations thought it came from the bottom of the brew kettled. Plus, the regal yet heavy Lenten bocks of Munich - Paulaner Salvator and Aventinus, among others - lead people to believe the style ends there.

SN's team-up with the homebrewing icons is appropriate here, since no helles doppelbock of any flag taste quite like this. If it weren't 8.3 percent ABV, it might evolve into a regular libation. It's slightly sweet like any good bock, but the master brewers let the unexpectedly floral hop bouquet shine. Starts and finishes very clean, without a misplaced note to trip it up. The malt more than rises to the occasion, with a few flourishes of its roasted character but mostly with its subtle dominance.

Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Ale 1.0, the rich stout, suffered the fate of many stouts by not deviating too much from the style. No such problems on this wonder. We have two more anniversary ales to go, but they will have a hard time topping the craft and originality of this imperial helles bock.

This is a untested variation on the bock style, and Sierra Nevada's partners have aided in creation of a masterpiece. Few tread in lager territory, but this fine trio claim it as their own.