Another Day, Another Pullout: So Long, Avery

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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 ....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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)

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.