Beer Scores - No Hardware, but Good Feedback

On Saturday, I picked up my score sheets from the KC Biermeisters 27th Annual Homebrew Competition. I already knew I hadn't won any awards, so I picked them up with some trepidation, mixed with eagerness to get some expert feedback on my beer.

Fortunately, the scoring was not as brutal as I had feared. I submitted 5 beers - 2 I knew were bad, but wanted some feedback on how to improve them, one that was pretty good but around a year and a half old, so well past its prime, and 2 I was happy with. I was surprised that my beers all wound up in the "very good" category, with 2 scoring 30, one 31, one 32, and one 34.

One of the 30s was one that I anticipated would score badly. It was a weizen that I thought had too much tartness and no head retention, and I'm not sure why. The judges, KC Wort Hog among them, picked up on the fact that I overhopped this one a bit, and focused their suggestions on that point. The feedback was good, and the Wort Hog suggested a potential cause of my dissipating foam.

The other 30 was my robust porter, which I knew was past its prime. The judges picked up on some phenols, and a bit of sourness. The feedback encouraged me to brew this one again - it really is a good beer when it's fresh.

My Dark American Lager was one of the beers I expected to score badly, but it got a 31 (including a 34 from a Nationally ranked judge). A dark American lager is a tough beer to brew well - it should have relatively little flavor, like a Michelob Dark, which means that off-tastes stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. I made the beer for the challenge, and the judges seemed to enjoy it, with the only criticism being that it tasted a little too good; there was a bit too much malt and flavor for the style. Fair enough - I was glad to get the feedback without any glaring complaints about my brewing technique.

I love my schwarzbier, which scored a 32. Most of the judges' criticisms focused on the fact it was overcarbonated - I've not yet mastered the science of filling bottles from kegs and preserving the proper level of carbonation. Again, I got helpful feedback from two nationally-ranked judges, which is pretty awesome. I've brewed another schwarzbier since I made the one I submitted, and I totally changed the recipe. I'd love to see how the two score side by side.

Finally, my milk stout scored a 34, which is a pretty respectable score. Unfortunately, there were LOTS of stouts entered into the competition, so I knew I was unlikely to bring home a medal unless my beer was darned near perfect. Again, it was overcarbonated. The judges picked up a lot of chocolate flavor; one suggested that perhaps I had added cocoa to my beer. I hadn't, but I agree that the chocolate flavor developed from the interplay of the roasted malts was strong. It's a likable beer, and I'm glad the judges enjoyed it.

I'm really happy I entered my beers into the contest. Sure, I want to win some more recognition, but I'd rather get the feedback to make better beer. I really appreciate the attention and comments from some top-notch judges - next year, I'll be bringing home some medals.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog - Iniquity, by Southern Tier

Foam, color and flavor are what make Iniquity stand out in the over-crowded field of Imperial IPAs. It's a wildly impressive beer, cleverly brewed to assert true individuality by focusing on aspects that other brewers have overlooked.

Imperial IPAs (or double IPAs) are an American innovation created by the extreme school of brewing. If hops are good, let's add more! If higher strength is good, let's make it stronger! More, more, more. I don't want to imply that the many great imperial IPAs on our shelves aren't well-crafted, nor do I want to deny that the best ones demonstrate a sneaky balance, but I will say that Imperial India Pale Ale is not a variety typified by nuance or subtlety. Make a strong pale ale, toss in hops until your arms are sore, and you have a pretty typical Imperial IPA.

When you open a bottle of Iniquity, you get the whiff of hop aroma that comes with most well-brewed Imperial IPAs. American hops tend to have a citrusy and piney arome, and that's what you get here, with a bit of chocolate in the background.

When you pour the beer, though, Iniquity asserts its individuality in two ways. First, it's very dark brown, instead of the more typical amber of an IPA. It looks like a porter, but smells like an IPA.

And the head is like tan whipped cream. Most IPAs have the malt and hops to sustain a great head of foam, but this one would not fade away as most of them do. Iniquity will give you a beer mustache, and it's one you'll want to lick off instead of wipe off.

Let's take a second to think about beer foam. For most of us, it seems almost irrelevant to the beer-drinking experience. Some foam assures us our beer is not flat, but too much foam robs our glass of the beer itself. As long as it's there but not too thick, nobody really cares about the foam.

But there's a lot more to learn about foam. Foam controls the release of aromatics that get caught up in those tiny bubbles, so a good, long lasting head actually increases the flavor you'll be getting from each sip. Foam also is an indication of the richness of the beer - a thin beer without much protein or hops will tend to have a foam that bounds up and quickly dissipates, like the foam on a soft drink. A good stand of foam is a promise and a benefit for most beers. Would Guinness be Guinness without that rich, creamy head?

One way of telling that you've got well-made beer foam is watching what happens on the side of the glass. A great glass of beer will show rings on the side from the levels of each drink. Between the rings, a "Belgian lace" will look like spiderwebs between the levels.

Iniquity's foam was fantastic. Because the dark beer contrasts so well with the light-tan head, the foam puts on a show that might not be as noticeable in a lighter-colored beer.

And the color is another trick that the brewers play on you. It is simply impossible to drink this beer and not taste some of the characteristics of a stout. Coffee, chocolate, caramel, roastiness, maybe even some dark fruits might come to mind. Except, the more I drank the beer and concentrated, the less I tasted those things. A touch of those flavors remained, but it was subtle.

I believe that the brewers at Southern Tier made me taste their beer with my eyes. When I looked at this dark brown beer, I tasted dark brown beer, even though my palate wasn't really getting very much of it. The next time I buy a bottle of this, I'm going to do a blind taste test, and further explore the disconnect. Again, the dark notes are there, but there's much less to that picture than meets the eye.

Finally, the flavor. You really taste the hops, but you aren't assaulted by their bitterness. Iniquity has the hop flavor and aroma of a beer that would curl your hair with bitterness, but the bite just doesn't show up. Instead, you have a pleasant, citrusy flavor balanced with a malt profile that is solid but not filling. The label tells us that they use chinook and cascade hops in the boil, willamette in a hopback (kind of a hop chamber that the beer runs through between the boiling kettle and the fermentation vessel) and cascade and centennial for dry hops (hops added to the fermentation vessel after most of the fermenting is complete). The hopback and dry hops are where all that hop flavor comes from - because those hops are not boiled, their finer aromatics aren't driven off, and the bitter oils don't get a chance to get isomerized (dissolved) into the beer.

Iniquity is an easy-drinking 9% beer, which may explain the name. I bought a 22 ounce bottle of it at Lucas Liquors months ago - I'll be keeping my eyes out for more.

Free Beer AND Free Chocolates?!

Some bloggers get all the love - Drunk Monkey pens a favorable review of his free Boulevard Dark Truth Stout, acknowledging he got the beer and a box of Christopher Elbow Chocolates from the Brewery.

My agent is in negotiations with the Brewery, and it looks like we'll have to go into arbitration. So far, all they're offering is an out-of-date aluminum bottle of their wheat beer, and a fun-size bag of Skittles left over from Halloween.

Drunk Monkey does convince me, however, that the beer is good enough to buy.

Beer, Olympics, Harper and Obama

It turns out that Obama and Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper had more than national pride riding on yesterday's excellent Olympic Gold Medal hockey game. If the United States had won, Harper would have owed Obama a case of Yuengling beer. As it turns out, Obama owes Harper a case of Molson.

Molson? Yuengling?

Neither is what any beer snob would describe as the best offering of their respective countries. And, while Yuengling carries a certain cache because of the brewery's age and restricted distribution, Molson is as common as tap water in Canada, and is a subsidiary of the multinational Molson Coors.

Did Obama really yearn for a case of Yuengling? Did Harper feel extra passion about the game because of his chances at a case of Molson?

But, while I quibble about the choices, Obama does deserve some credit for relying on beer in matters of peripheral national urgency, as he did with the multi-branded "Beer Summit" after a Harvard professor had a run-in with a police officer.

Not every beer needs to be a great beer, and beer snobbery is less important than simple enjoyment. I hope Harper gets his case of beer, and enjoys it with some friends. I hope Obama goes ahead and gets himself some Yuengling, if that's what he's got a hankering for.

(Yesterday's hockey game was a really great game. Checking on both sides of the ice, hustling after every puck, a last-minute tie and overtime. Plus, as much as I wanted the US to win, in my heart of hearts, I don't begrudge Canada a victory in hockey.)

Doppelbock Tasting at Gomer's

If you haven't signed up for Gomer's email lists, you really should. Last night, Gomer's hosted a free tasting of 7 doppelbocks, served with cheese and wonderful herb-encrusted salami, and presented with a brief but informative lecture about the history, composition and stylistic expectations of the style.

I've written about doppelbocks several times before (1, 2, 3, 4). Doppelbocks were invented by monks who wanted to pack as much nutrition and richness as possible into a liquid form, for those long days of Lent when they were required to fast by eschewing food. A loaf of bread in a bottle, doppelbocks are big, rich, warming beers, perfect for sipping on one of these February nights when it feels like winter will never loosen its grip.

The beers presented were Spaten Optimator (noticeable alcoholic warming, chocolate nuance, surprisingly dry), Ayinger Celebrator (some higher alcohols, classic of the style), Tucher Bajuvator (spicy background hops and some fruity esters), Weihenstephaner Korbinian (earthy, rich, smoky - named after St. Corbinian, the Irish monk who founded the monastery which became the brewery), Bell's Consecrator (classical, with a nice clean finish), Tommyknocker Butthead (too sweet and estery), and Sam Adams Double Bock (classical, with rich dark fruit notes).

Alert and informed fans of doppelbock will notice a glaring omission from the above list. Alas, Paulaner Salvator, the original of the style - the beer that the Pope approved for Lenten drinking because it had spoiled on the journey to Rome and seemed properly penitential - was unavailable from the distributor.

Each of the samples was pre-poured in ~1 ounce samples in small wine glasses. While it would have been slightly better to have the beers freshly poured, so that more of the volatile aromas would have been present at tasting time, the size of the crowd (~40) would have made that a challenge without a bevy of staff.

Gomer's South deserves a lot of credit for the effort they have been putting in to hosting regular beer events. Next week, there will be a free tasting of the amazing beers from Founder's Brewery, and last week O'Fallon was featured.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog - Stevens Point Burly Brown

Brown ales are an under-appreciated class of beers. They don't get attention because they don't push the extremes. They aren't as hoppy as India Pale Ales, they aren't as dark as porters or stouts, and they aren't as malty as the higher scotch ales. When well-crafted, though, they find that sweet spot, that balance, that makes them truly special.

Stevens Point Burly Brown is, unfortunately, not one of the greats. Pouring a dark copper, the brilliantly clear beer comes in at the light end of the color guidelines for a proper American Brown. The aroma, though, is superb - malty with just a tingle of hops, and a bit of chocolate.

The flavor is surprisingly soft, though. The scent's promise of a rich, malty beer is not fully delivered by the beer itself. Instead, you get a light-bodied, rather bland caramel taste, without the roasty or chocolate notes that add some backbone to a well-made brown ale.

The hops of a typical American brown ale were absent along with the darker malts. While a brown ale should never by dominated by hops, a great one will demonstrate the brewer's ability to use hop bitterness to balance the malt, and hop flavor to add piquant zestiness to the malt. Point's Burly Brown just doesn't go there - a restrained hand with the hops manages to avoid cloying sweetness, but fails to deliver any excitement.

It's not a bad beer at all. I might like it more if it were labeled as an amber ale - it's really a lighter beer in color, taste and body than I expect from a well-made brown. There are certainly better brown ales out there; try Abita Turbo Dog or Moose Drool.

Why Should Domestic = Cheap? A Call for Legislation

What is a "domestic" beer?

According to most restaurants and bars, a domestic beer is an American style light lager produced at a factory miles away by a foreign corporation.

On the flip side, a beer brewed within walking distance at a brewery built by people who live in our community - that's not domestic.

It's all about money, of course, with a dash of history tossed in.

First, the history. When I was a teenager and disco was alive, the beer world could be divided into two types - cheap, bland, flavor-stripped lagers brewed here in the United States, and expensive, strange beers brewed in foreign countries, ranging from Moosehead to Guinness. Back then, good beers pretty much all came from other countries, and America pretty much only produced Bud, Miller, Schlitz, Coors, Pabst and a few others of the same ilk. (It's true that there were a few good beers made in America at the time, like Anchor Steam and a few other rarities, but they were very few, and not common enough to add any exoticism to the word "domestic".)

So, if you wanted a domestic beer, you wanted something cheap and cold. If you wanted something else, you wanted an expensive import (which weren't always better, by the way, but that's another story). This is the era that gave rise to the splendor that was "Import Night" at various bars. Now, times have changed.

Let's talk about the money now. American craft brewers are making most of the best beers in the world. Because of the scale and ingredients, these beers are more expensive than the factory beers, and the prices are all over the board. A bottle of beer from the Midwest can easily cost more than a bottle of beer from Munich or Newcastle.

So, now, when a bar or restaurant wants to tell you that they'll sell you a cheap beer really, really cheap, they'll post a sign that says "Domestic draws, $1" or "$4 Pitchers, All domestics". "Domestic" is shorthand for Bud, Miller or Coors, even though they're brewed by foreign corporations. If you want to get a Boulevard Pale Ale, or a Goose Island Honker's Ale, or a Magic Hat #9, you're going to pay a lot more than the "domestic" price.

At first blush, this doesn't seem to be a big problem. I'm happy to pay the going rate for good beer, and I don't expect a bar to sell expensive beer to me at a loss. And I certainly don't begrudge anyone a plastic cup of "domestic" if that's what they want.

But I don't want it called "domestic" any more. It's inaccurate, it's insulting to real American brewers, and it siphons money to foreign corporations. SABMiller and AB-InBev are NOT domestic corporations. There are thousands of true "domestics" crafting great beer, and the American beer scene deserves to be recognized as a point of national pride. When you claim that Miller Lite and Budweiser are the "domestics", you are saying that Boulevard and Schlafly are somehow less American. It's just not right.

Here's what I suggest: Pass a state law that any retailer advertising special pricing for "domestic" beers be required to sell any and all American-produced beers that it carries at the advertised price. My intent is not to harm bars and restaurants; I only want them to start using truth in advertising. If they want to advertise "$1 Bud draws" or "$4 Miller pitchers", that's fine.

But they ought to catch up with the times. "Domestic" beers are no longer limited to corporate factory brewers. America is now a great brewing nation, and our retailers should not advertise that Budweiser is the pinnacle of American brewing.

(Hat tip to John over at the KC Beer Blog for sparking this rant with a comment to this post.)

Reinheitsgebot - Purity at the Expense of Innovation

If you hang around beer geeks enough, you may hear the term "Reinheitsgebot", pronounced rine-HITES-geh-boat. Some will speak of it with reverence, as the first attempt to define and insist upon beer quality, while others will speak of it with eye-rolling contempt, as the enemy of innovation. Both are partially correct.

The Reinheitsgebot was decreed by Duke Wilhelm IV in Bavaria in 1516. While the complete translation shows that the Reinheitsgebot was focused more on taxes than on beer, the portion most cited by brewers stated, "Furthermore, we wish to emphasize that in future in all cities, markets and in the country, the only ingredients used for the brewing of beer must be Barley, Hops and Water." No wheat, no cherries, no rice, no pumpkin, not even any yeast. Yeast which is the agent responsible for changing malty-sweet water into beer was not even identified until the Louis Pasteur fired up his microscope in the 1800s. In 1516, brewers typically used some of the prior batch as a "starter", much like sourdough bakers continue to do.

Despite the Germanic reputation for strict compliance with rules, the Reinheitsgebot was always more of a guideline than a rule. Bavaria has long been the home of astounding wheat beers, for example, and Duke Wilhelm IV was not going to deny himself and his friends a frothy mug of hefeweizen brewed with wheat. Instead, in a classic case of "It's Okay If You're A Ruler", wheat beers were restricted to brewers who catered to the nobility. Reinheitgebot applied only to the rabble, and was intended to make sure enough wheat was available for bakers to stay in business.

Along the way, the famed Reinheitsgebot has been amended to allow for the broader use of wheat, as well as sugar and yeast. Further, Germany's entrance into the EEU made the restrictions inapplicable to imports, and now German brewers are allowed to brew as they please, though many continue to claim compliance with the Reinheitsgebot's provisions as a marketing gimmick. (None that I know of comply with the original 1516 provisions capping beer prices, though, which would lower beer prices to under a dime for a case of beer. Let me know if you find any exceptions.)

Now, back to the debate about the impact of the Reinheitgebot. Did it raise the quality of German beers, or did it squelch innovation? The short answer is "yes". Back in the 1500s, beer was made of a wide variety of crazy materials, and those ingredients were often added with an eye toward producing a cheaper beer rather than a better beer. Local weeds could substitute for hops, rotten apples could substitute for malt, and so forth. Insisting on barley and hops really did cull out the more nasty experiments being sold as "beer", and may have protected the consumer.

The impact on innovation was substantial, though. On the one hand, the Reinheitsgebot encouraged the Germans to fully explore the permutations of all-barley beers. From doppelbock to helles, Germans have produced an impressive range of wonderful barley beers.

On the other hand, the imagination reels at what might have been developed through the years had German brewers had free reign to innovate. Just to the north, Belgium became laboratory of creative brewing, an inspiration to brewers to this day. Even in France, styles incorporating unmalted wheat and spices helped bring refreshment to the world.

Was Duke Wilhelm IV a patron saint of pure beer, or a sinner killing the development of German beers? Again, the correct answer is to avoid the "either or" linguistic trap, and appreciate the good that came from his law.

Guinness Master Brewer Coming to Kansas City - Browne's Market Hosting

Guinness stout is one of the classic beers of the world. Browne's Market is one of the classic stores in the city. On March 14, these two classics will be combined, as Fergal Murray, the master brewer of the most esteemed Irish beer will be visiting the most esteemed Irish market in Midwest.

More details will follow in the coming month, but mark your calendar for an Irish beer experience you'll never forget.

O'Fallon Brewery Tasting at Gomer's South

Tony Caradonna of O'Fallon Brewery brought his beers to Gomer's South yesterday evening, and I met two of my beer-loving friends there to sample the line-up. (If you're from St. Louis, you'll want to know that Tony granduated from St. Mary's High School in 1975. If you're not from St. Louis, you don't understand the fascination with high school provenance, but it means a lot to those of us who are. If you think that's just a personal quirk of mine, note that it appears in the second line of his bio. If you look at his staff profiles, everyone who grew up in St. Louis mentions his or her high school at the top, while none of those from out of town mentions the name of his or her high school. What can I say? It's a regional thang.)

As beer-tastings go, this was a casual affair, standing around a counter sipping samples from tiny mouthwash cups. We sampled 6 beers, and they were placed in a thoughtful order. No formal presentation, but the brewer was there to answer questions.

First came O'Fallon Gold. Obviously intended to be a crowd-pleaser, it is lightly hopped, smooth and, frankly, kind of bland. It's not a bad beer at all - I didn't find any flaws with it, and it might be kind of interesting to taste it alongside other brewers' "entry level" beers. An ounce or so of this was plenty to get the idea, though, and then it was upward toward the more interesting offerings.

Next up was O'Fallon Wheat, and it was a clean, basic American wheat beer. Obviously intended to be a crowd-pleaser, it is lightly hopped, smooth and, frankly, kind of bland. It's not a bad beer at all - I didn't find any flaws with it, and it might be kind of interesting to taste it alongside other brewers' "entry level" beers. An ounce or so of this was plenty to get the idea, though, and then it was upward toward the more interesting offerings. Yes, I know I just repeated myself, but the shoe fits. In this case, it might be interesting to try it in comparison to Boulevard Wheat.

On second thought, American wheat is one of my least favorite styles, so why attempt to differentiate between two very competently made, commercially successful beers made by great Missouri brewers? I am thankful that each of them brings in revenue to subsidize the more experimental beers that thrill beer geeks like me. So what if I don't like American wheat beers? Lots of people do, and Missouri produces two excellent, well-brewed versions.

The third beer of the evening was O'Fallon 5-Day IPA. This is the one I bought to take home - well-balanced with hops and malt, it is a great example of an excellent beer that isn't trying to set any records. Too many brewers use their IPAs as entries in a hops arms race, competing to melt your face with overwhelming hop bitterness, flavor and aroma. 5-Day IPA brings a little detente to the IPA world, with a tasty but balanced approach that leads you to say, "I think I'll have another," instead of simply, "Whoa, what just hit me?". This is a really good beer, and it could easily become one of my regulars.

O’Fallon Smoked Porter came next, and it came as a jolt. I'd reviewed this beer 3 years ago in my "99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog" series, and I think I enjoyed that bottle more. The smoke in the beer last night was overwhelming - it tasted like liquid barbecue. Perhaps the bottle I reviewed earlier had aged a bit - aging tends to smooth out strong flavors, and my prior review mentions a slightly tart and acidic aftertaste, which could be a sign of age, and which would have been overwhelmed by the smoke in last night's sample. Even though the beer didn't rank among my favorites last night, it's great to see brewers trying new things and expanding the catalog of beer tastes we can find in our stores.

The fifth beer was O'Fallon Whiskey Barrel Smoked Porter. I wish I had bought a bottle of this to try by itself. As it was, coming right on the heels of the super-smokey Smoked Porter, I was unable to give it a proper tasting. There was definitely smoke there, but I couldn't tell how much of it was due to overlap from the prior beer, and how much was in the sample I was tasting. I picked up on vanilla and maybe even a little honey flavor, but that's about all I'm going to say about this beer until I get a chance to really experience it. I will say, though, that it seemed to have a lot of complexity and that it's a beer I look forward to trying again.

Finally, we closed out on one of O'Fallon's seasonal offerings, O’Fallon Cherry Chocolate Beer. This tasted amazingly similar to those chocolate covered cherries my mother used to get when I was a kid; I wonder if Tony's mom shopped at the same store. I'd never want to plow through a six pack of this beer, but it's a pleasant surprise and, once again, O'Fallon is pushing the limits of what you might expect a bottle of beer to hold. It was also interesting to me that the base beer on this confection is actually a dark wheat, instead of the more typical porter or stout. I would love to see how he makes this beer!

O'Fallon Brewery has a 15 barrel system, which they are using to produce 3,000+ barrels a year. They've been quietly building their reputation and they're the second largest American brewery in the St. Louis area (now that AB has been sold to foreign interests). They recently got their license to produce stronger beers, so look for them to start experimenting even more in the coming years.

(If you're interested in hearing more about tasting opportunities at Gomer's, sign up for their newsletters here.)

What Beer for Super Bowl?

The big game is Sunday, and our house will be cheering for the Saints. We'll have Etouffee and snacks - probably even break out some home-made chili (no ground meet - hand cut-up chunks of chuck roast). And pretzels, of course.

Beer selection for the Super Bowl is tricky, though.

Of course, it would be easy and obvious to break out the Abita, which is made in Abita Springs, a few miles from New Orleans. You can easily find Abita Amber and Abita Purple Haze at most stores with a reasonable selection. Both are drinkable and approachable, but the Amber is nothing exciting, and the Purple Haze is a fruit beer of the "put enough raspberry in it and you won't know it's beer" style. Abita makes some great beers, but these two aren't really among them. On the other hand, if you find some Turbodog, pick it up for a great example of an American Brown Ale.

If you're an Indianapolis fan, you might have a tougher time finding something from the vicinity in a local store, though, if you do, you'll probably be drinking a great beer. Indiana has a surprisingly vibrant beer scene, including the wonderful Three Floyds brewery. If you can find something from Three Floyds, pick it up, even if you're cheering for the Saints.

But, really, drinking beer from your team's location is a nod toward silly superstition. What happens on the field in Miami is not really dependent upon what you do in your home 1000+ miles away. I've learned, through years of experience and experimentation, that nothing I can do really impacts the game - not swearing at the TV, not wearing proper licensed clothing, not even promising God I will be a better person if my chosen team wins. So, let's abandon the "Beer with a Purpose" approach, and look toward exactly what beer will enhance the Super Bowl experience.

The first thing to consider is timing. This will be a long evening, and my advice is to plan a sequence of beers rather than latching onto one beer and expecting it to take you through the entire game. I'm going to go with a 4 Quarter approach.

First Quarter: Start with a nod toward history. Boulevard Pilsner is a great American Lager, and it's also light enough to serve as a warm-up course. It will remind you a bit of the beers your Dad drank while watching the game, but it is well-crafted, so you won't relive the horrors of Hamm's or Wisconsin Gold Label. It's American football, and nothing is more American than a great American Lager.

Second Quarter: It's time to kick it up a notch. Choose your favorite American Pale Ale, like Boulevard Pale Ale or Mirror Pond. The hops and malt will compete like the two teams, and even if the hops seem to be prevailing in an American Pale Ale, the malt is hanging in there, and it's a sport where everyone wins.

Half Time: Split a bottle of La Folie from New Belgium, a wood-aged, sour brown ale, or some other sour beer. It's wildly different, refreshing, and a great change of pace to enjoy while the Who take the field. You don't want a whole bottle, because this is not the time to focus on the intricacies of sour and malt, so share a bottle with some friends.

Third Quarter: It's time for a brown ale or a porter. If you can find Turbodog by Abita, now is the time to pop it open (it may be superstitious, but where's the harm?). You want something big and flavorful to keep your taste buds excited. St. Bridget's Porter from Great Divide is another great choice here. The game is serious now, and you need some serious beer.

Fourth Quarter: This is a tough choice. If the game's close, you want something sharp and exciting, but if it's a blowout, you'll want something mellow to sooth the pain of the Colts fans and to celebrate the success of the Saints. So, I'm saying if the point spread is 13 points or less, you want intensity, so go with an imperial (or double) IPA. Double Wide from Boulevard is a good choice, but pick your favorite hop bomb to keep yourself cheering loudly for your team.

If the teams are separated by 14 points or more, though, go with a great Belgian Dubbel or Abbey ale. The best beer bargain in the world is Ommegang Abbey ale, and it is rich enough to serve as a fitting indulgence for the victorious fans and to offer a sweet reminder of the joy of life to those suffering through a thrashing. It's a wonderful beer for special occasions, and the Super Bowl is certainly a special occasion.

Postgame: A nice big glass of water, and maybe a couple aspirin. Tomorrow's a work day, and you've been drinking beer all evening.

Beer World - Good News and Bad News from Waldo Pizza

Waldo Pizza makes one of the best pies in the city, and I would go there if their best beer was Diet Coke. What makes the place incredible, though, is their beer selection. From the beginning, they have always had an intelligent and varied beer list, light-years ahead of most restaurants.

First, the good news - they are now offering beer flights. For the ridiculously low price of $5, you can get 4 pours of 5 ounces each from their taps. When you consider that their taps include treasures like the fabled Bell's Hopslam, Schlafly's Barrel Aged Imperial Stout, Goose Island's Bourbon County Stout and Unibroue's Trois Pistoles, that amounts to a tour of some of the world's most amazing beers for $5. That's an insanely wonderful bargain. The 5 ounce pours are enough to give you a legitimate taste of the beers, and you might still have room for a pint after tasting the 4. (I opted for a bottle of Founder's Double Trouble IPA, which compares nicely with Hopslam.)

Now, the bad news.

Elliott Beier, Waldo's Cicerone (think beer sommelier), my favorite beer adviser and all-around nice guy, is leaving our town for Chicago at the end of the month. He'll be at the restaurant till the end of the month - I recommend swinging by and bidding your farewell, and if you haven't met him yet, taking the time to ask his advice about the beers on his fabulous list.

(Those who may worry about Waldo sinking into beer mediocrity after his departure may rest assured that they had a great beer list before Elliott's arrival, and I expect they will continue the tradition. But Elliott's excellent taste will be missed, I am sure.)

Boulevard Brewery - Is the Emperor Wearing Clothes?

John over at the Wort Hog posted a provocative piece raising questions about Boulevard Brewery's adhesion to craft beer ethos, prompted by a review of the Brewery's FAQ. While you may occasionally stumble across a negative review of a specific beer, rarely do you see a respected Kansas City beer writer like John pen something so critical of the state's largest craft brewery itself.

Specifically, he points out that earlier versions of the FAQ forswore the use of aluminum cans, citing "tradition" as the reason, only to delete that entry after adopting aluminum bottles. He also identifies two "shockingly" false claims that remain in the FAQ; one is that Boulevard will never make fruit beer, and the second is that Boulevard will only be distributed in the Midwest.

Most damningly and provocatively, the discrepancies cause John to raise 5 questions:

1. Did Boulevard ever truly hold the snooty values communicated on its FAQ?
2. If they did, why are these values so easy to abandon?
3. Does Boulevard truly value the craft beer ethos many see in its Smokestack series?
4. If so, how easily will Boulevard abandon that apparent value?
. . .
5. Is the Emperor wearing any clothes?

Those are some serious questions to raise based upon sloppy FAQ writing.

While I admire John's willingness to ask hard questions about a brewery many of us tend to treat as a regional treasure, I think he's going way overboard in seriously questioning the values of Boulevard Brewing.

First off, let's tackle the aluminum can question. The now-deleted section on aluminum cans was wrong-headed in the first place, but it was never a "value" of the brewery to be wedded to brown glass bottles. I'm not privy to their formal values statement, if they have one, but their "value" is tied to producing a high-quality beer experience, not favoring one container over another. A dismissive statement about aluminum cans on an early FAQ is not a value, and it's neither shocking nor unethical to abandon it when environmental and market reasons bring a reason to rethink the prejudice. (Aluminum cans are drawing more and more advocates within the craft brew industry, and I'm working on a post about the topic for the near future.)

As for the "fruit beer" issue, I think John is a bit mistaken when he acts like the statement is contradicted by his point that "Boulevard has been making a seasonal beer with fruit added for over a year now". I assume that John is referring to the orange peel used in making Zon beer, and there is a world of difference between a witbier like Zon and a "fruit beer", which is intended to be a "harmonious marriage of fruit and beer".

(I was surprised to see Boulevard eliminate an entire category of beers from its intended repertoire when I saw John's quotation. In context, though the statement comes in the form of a terse "nope" to the question "Will Boulevard ever make fruit beer, 'light' beer or non-alcoholic beer?". I think they should clarify that statement now, and reclaim the potential of entering into the wonderful craft-brew world of cherry stouts, raspberry ales, and Magic Hat #9.)

Finally, about the distribution issue. A few bottles of the Smokestack series found on the coasts does not demonstrate an abandonment of fundamental values. Indeed, the FAQ makes that point clear when it states that the limited distribution area helps them remain "dedicated to bringing back fresh, flavorful beers in a variety of styles". In the case of the Smokestack series, a narrowly focused niche beer like Two Jokers or Seeyoulator might well require a broader network of adventurous beer drinkers to allow for those styles to sell. There's no conflict with a value; there's an adaptation of strategy.

In sum, John at The Wort Hog is wrong when he attempts to spin some sloppy editing in a FAQ into a question of values. The loose language John excavates from old FAQs does not represent "snooty values", and the editing of that language does not reflect any abandonment of values. I see nothing to justify an accusation that Boulevard is prone to abandon the "craft beer ethos" represented in its Smokestack series.

On the other hand, it's refreshing to see someone step out and raise these questions. Boulevard Brewery is a dominant force in the regional beer scene, and beer bloggers ought to be stepping up and questioning on a regular basis whether our emperor is wearing clothes. Local beer bloggers have already been accused of "Homerism" and the claim is not entirely without justification.

I'm confident that, in this case, the emperor is wearing clothes. As beer-lovers, we owe it to ourselves and to Boulevard to make sure it remains fully clothed.

What to Brew? Two Batches, 20 Gallons, One Day

It looks like Monday will bring temperatures above freezing, and I have the day off in honor of MLK Day. I've promised beer to a few events, and I got a sweet new boiler for Christmas I'm eager to blow some propane through.

I have a great, malty Oktoberfest in kegs, and a deep, rich Traditional Bock. What should I brew next? I can make two batches, and I would prefer that I not brew more than one lager (cold storage space is not limitless).

Right now, I'm thinking of a hoppy Amber Ale, and perhaps a Schwarzbier, both of which I brewed last year and went over very well. On the other hand, I love trying now recipes, so it might be time to try a Scottish ale, or an alt. Now would also be a good time to brew a cream ale, since we have a big Mardi Gras party coming up, and it's good to have something everybody will like.

Out of the 81 styles in the Beer Judge Certification Program guidelines, what should I brew?

(If you want to swing by on Monday and see some all-grain homebrewing (while sampling the aforementioned Oktoberfest and Bock), consider yourself invited. Just drop me a note.

Boulevard Amber & Dubbel

I took a quick tour of Boulevard Brewery yesterday with the Kansas City Plaza Rotary Club, and the highlight, of course, was the tasting room. (Not that the tour was anything less than wonderful - they do a superb job of summarizing the brewing process and impressing people with all their cool equipment. They use video effectively in the tour; if you haven't done one recently, I highly recommend it.)

The two new tastes for me were Boulevard Amber and Boulevard Dubbel. Surprisingly, I'm more excited by the amber.

Amber ales are a tricky style. They are usually medium in color, medium in strength, medium in mouthfeel, medium in hoppiness and medium in malt. That many mediums usually make a boring beer. On the other hand, they tend to be a popular beer, because they're approachable and balanced. Some brewers unfairly consider them a "sell-out beer" - a beer designed to appeal to the masses.

Boulevard Amber will be wildly popular, and will appeal to a broad swath of industrial beer drinkers, but it's not a "sell-out beer". It has that certain spark that makes it a great beer instead of just an easy-drinking one. I predict that it will earn a place in the selection of year-round brews that Boulevard produces.

Boulevard's version of an amber ale is surprisingly malty and rich. The hops are light in this one; it tasted to me almost like a slightly sweeter Oktoberfest. Whatever variety of ale yeast they used was well-chosen; it allowed for a great malty taste without a cloyingly sweet finish, and it was perfectly clean, to the point I would have believed it was a lager yeast. The hops used are just enough to provide a mildly bittering contrast to the malt sweetness, but they play only a supporting role. If I had to recreate this beer using widely available commercial beers, I would start by blending 3 parts of a classic Oktoberfest with 1 part of O'Dell's 90 Shilling.

As for the Boulevard Dubbel, I'm not quite as enthusiastic. Where the Boulevard Amber added malty life to a style that is often bland, Boulevard Dubbel took my favorite beer style and smoothed off the interesting parts. It's not a bad beer by any means, but I don't think this version of dubbel has any real greatness in it.

A great dubbel is a decadent beer. It is rich in belgian malts and enhanced by belgian yeast. Hops are an after-thought, and the abbeys where these brews originated often aged their hops such that the hop flavor was virtually eliminated while the hop bitterness persisted to balance the malt. A great dubbel has tastes of raisins and dark dried cherries. Go buy a Corsendonk Abbey Brown Ale, a New Belgium Abbey Belgian Style Ale, or a Chimay red. That's what we're talking about.

Belgian Dubbel didn't hit those heights in my sampling glass yesterday. To be fair, I only had a couple ounces to taste, and the great ones only really achieve their full greatness as you enjoy an entire bottle. It's a complex beer, and sometimes it takes more than a few sips to get that complexity.

To be even more fair, the sample poured was way too cold to allow a dubbel to really show its full range of flavors. Some of the decadence I look for in a dubbel might have been hidden in the chill.

Even with those excuses, though, I think the Boulevard Dubbel may need some tweaking. I was picking up a bit of bitterness or harshness. I don't think it was hops, though it's possible I was catching a too-heavy hand with the bittering hops. I wonder if the problem could be in the water; Kansas City water is pretty hard, and some of those ions can enhance a beer's bitterness without additional hoppiness. (If you want to taste this impact for yourself, taste Bass Ale - where minerally water enhances the hops - compared to Anchor Steam - where the hop bitterness is not enhanced by minerals. They're different styles, of course, but focus on the bitterness.)

Boulevard Amber is a great beer that I hope the brewers will be releasing soon to an adoring public. Boulevard Dubbel is made in a great stule, and I hope the brewers will be refining the recipe to a point that it will belong with the great Dubbels of the world, and earn a place in the pantheon of Boulevard products.

(For more Boulevard news, go read about the collaboration between Boulevard and the brewer from Orval. Bull E. Vard of the KC Beer Blog managed to get a free bottle from the brewery, and does a great write-up of a beer I am excited to taste.)

Hostility Toward Beer Snobs?

Over at Fat City, Jonathan Bender decides that he's a beer snob in a posting describing the attributes of beer snobs in less-than-flattering terms. It's a good-natured, well-written post, but it raises some interesting issues for those of us who take our beer seriously.

The meat of the post is the description of beer snobs:

Beer snobs will bring their own six-packs to parties not as gifts for the host but to ensure they'll have something they actually want to drink. A beer snob is likely to care as much about the glassware as the beverage, making sure the right glass is available in order to get the most out of a brew. A beer snob will not only have a well-developed palate for beer, but also insist on finding notes and flavors that nobody else can detect.

There's a grain of truth in what he writes, but I think I can explain.

About bringing beer to parties: I cannot count the number of parties that feature very good wines and crappy beers. On the other hand, I can't recall ever being at a party that served great beer and crappy boxed wine. That's just the truth. If I'm in the mood for a good beer at a party hosted by non-beer-appreciators, I cannot expect the host to have a good beer on hand. If the wine market place were 95% dominated by makers of sweet riesling and white zinfandel, wine drinkers might understand. So, yes, I have brought good beeer to parties with the hope that the host will toss them into the cooler, and I notice that they always disappear before I get a third beer.

Another reason to bring your own beer is that the world of beer is larger than the world of wine. If you go to a party, you can count on a red and a white, and if they're of reasonable quality, it's all the same to you. With beer, though, even if the host does have a nice amber ale available, you might be in the mood for a dark, rich, chocolaty porter. Or, if they have a porter, you might be yearning for a hoppy, crisp Imperial pilsner. Honestly, it's unfair to expect a party host to serve good examples of the broad range of craft beer styles. At my parties, I only have one or two good beers on tap, and I love it when people bring great examples of other styles to share.

About the Glassware thing: It's not so much that we insist on the "right" glassware, since the art of matching beer to proper glasses is wildly complex when you move into the world of Belgians. We just don't want the wrong glass. Pulling a dusty plastic tumbler off the shelf truly diminishes the beer experience.

All I ask is that the glass be clean, but super-clean - no soap residue or other head-destroying surprises. Ideally, the glass should be clear glass, too, so I can see the beer, but I've enjoyed plenty of good beers out of cheap plastic cups. At my parties, there are usually those ubiquitous cheap red plastic glasses by the kegs, but my friends know that they can wander into the kitchen and grab a real glass if they prefer. Those who care, do so, and those who don't, don't. Everyone is happy, and I don't have 80 glasses to handwash.

About the flavor nuances: If you serve me a great beer, chances are than I can wax eloquent about the flavor nuances because I know what to look for, and I can really concentrate on a great beer. BUT - I only talk about the flavor to those who ask, and, Jonathan, if you're seeing people interrupt a conversation to talk about the "biscuity" notes in a pale ale, or the "dark fruit" nuances in a baltic porter, the problem is not that you're hanging out with beer snobs. The problem is you're hanging out with losers.

Great Beer in Cabool, Missouri?

Have you ever heard of Little Yeoman Brewery? Have you ever heard of Cabool, Missouri?

In doing a little brew research yesterday, I stumbled upon word of a micro micro brewery located on a family farm off a tiny road out around Mark Twain National Forest, producing great beer in tiny quantities. The beer doesn't show up on liquor store shelves - you have to make the 80 mile journey from Springfield, MO to drive down a gravel road to the brewery to buy it. And, despite all that, you might want to call ahead, because they sell out of everything they make.

People from German have made the trek to this outpost of rural brewing, and yet I had never heard of it.

Who's in for a trip to Cabool in October? The brewery hosts an Oktoberfest on the last weekend of October: "We usually cook a pig in the ground for that, or make brats, and we have a live bluegrass band,” Frederick said. “We encourage camping. Bring a tent, bring a lawn chair and come on over."

Sounds good to me.

Where Have All the Pretzels Gone?

We live in a golden age of beer, with hundreds of brands and varieties easily available at local stores at reasonable prices. No human population has ever, in the history of mankind, had a richer beer experience than American beer lovers today. It is a joyful time to be alive.

But where have all the pretzels gone?

What a painful irony it is that now that I am of age to match pretzels with their proper beverage, the honest pretzel is nearly extinct, preserved only in far-away gourmet sanctuaries beyond the reach of ordinary folk.

Today's pretzels are a shadow of what pretzels should be. Pretzels should be twisted, but now they are pooped preformed from machined tools and baked to bland uniformity. When I was a child, even the mass market brands were twisted, with little extra-browned pretzel nipples to be snapped off the top arch, and a corrugated center where strands of dough did a joyful dance of crispness. Now, mass-market pretzels are flat and uniform, tanned and smooth.


And the snap! Back in the day, when you bit a pretzel, it snapped like a dried branch. The place where it broke would be jagged with striations and spikes. Crumbs were flakes or like tiny twigs of dough. Now, pretzels are like compressed powder. The texture when you break one is like crumbling a clump of laundry detergent.

Don't get me wrong - I'll eat a bag of the current version of mass-market pretzels without a shred of self-control. Even a bad pretzel is, after all, a pretzel, and proof that crispy and salty are two keys to the good life.

But every now and then, I'll recall the pretzels of an earlier time. "Nibble with Gibble's" brand came in plastic bags and a twist-tie, and brightened winters in Schenectady, New York. When my mother passed away a couple years ago, the only item my wise brother sought from the home was a large round Tupperware container that she used to store pretzels in the cabinet when we were kids, but, alas, it was gone like Rosebud.

Snyder's sourdough pretzels are the closest you'll find in our grocery stores to the great pretzels of my childhood, though they are expensive and taste of cardboard. I've heard rumors that there are still great pretzels being made out there, and I may someday resort to mail ordering some. I've even tried baking my own, but they came out stone-hard, and looked more scatological than appetizing.

Even if I mail-order or bake my own, though, it won't be the same. Great pretzels are like a mother's love. You shouldn't need to seek it out, and scarcity reduces, rather than enhances, its value. They're both at their best when they are a comfortable part of everyday life. This holiday season, I miss them both.

Recognized Beer Judge

I received my test scores from the Beer Judge Certification Program yesterday evening, and my score put me at the Recognized Beer Judge category. I did better in my tasting portion than I did in my writing. I was hoping for a better score, but, during the test, I accidentally completely skipped one of the essay questions, and did a poor job of formulating a Weissbier recipe from scratch, without reference materials.

The next level up is Certified Beer Judge, which will require some more experience judging in sanctioned contests (even if I had scored 100% on the test, I could only be "Recognized" until I racked up some more experience points) and a retake of the written portion of the exam.

Cheers to being a dedicated student!

99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog - Baltika #6 Porter

Winter has arrived, and it is time to pour a dark, rich, complex, warming beer. For $1.99, you can have 16.9 ounces of that, in a beer that has its origin in pre-revolution Russia. Baltika #6 Porter is one of the best beer values I've ever found.

Baltic porter is derived from Imperial Stouts, which were brewed by the English for Imperial Russia. Imperial stout is a bigger, stronger stout, and baltic porter is a bigger, stronger version of English porter, brewed in countries like Finland, Poland, Sweden, Lithuania and Russia. Because cold temperatures are easy to find in this region, baltic porters are cold-fermented lagers unlike most other porter styles, which tend to be ales.

Baltika porter pours almost black, with a tan head. The aroma tips you off that you have poured something different. There's malt, chocolate, caramel, dark roasted coffee, port wine, leather, and more. They should make a cologne out of this stuff.

The flavor is all that, plus sweetness. It tastes a bit like the raisins that get baked on top of an oatmeal cookie, verging on acrid, but rescued by sweetness. Hidden in all that flavor is 7% alcohol, which makes it a nice warming beer for a cold winter night.

Designing a Great Bock Beer

Bock can be a confusing beer for the casual drinker. Sometimes it's light-colored (Maibock), sometimes it's dark, thick and rich (doppelbock), and sometimes it's sweet and incredibly strong (eisbock). Worse, the most widely available "bock" in the United States is Shiner Bock, which isn't even a bock (it's just another dark American lager, like Michelob Classic Dark).

This weekend, I went to a moderately well-stocked beer store, and could not find a single tradtional bock on the shelves. The closest thing I could find was Rogue's wonderful Dead Guy Ale, which is similar to a Maibock, but brewed with ale yeast, and a couple doppelbocks.

If I want a great bock, it seems I will need to make it myself.

There are 4 varieties of bock beer. Maibock is moderately strong, pale-colored version of traditional bock beer, with less malty flavor. Traditional bock is the original rich malty German lager, originally brewed in the town of Einbeck in the 1300s. Doppelbock is a dark, rich, malty loaf of bread in a bottle, developed by monks who wanted to get a full meal while avoiding solid food. Eisbock is doppelbock which has been concentrated by freezing and draining away the rich bock concentrate which did not freeze with the water.

I want to make the traditional bock. I've never made one, they're hard to find, and wonderful to drink.

In designing a homebrew recipe, you start with your malts. A good homebrew shop will have a selection of dozens of malts, some of which are meant to be the backbone of a beer (base malts) and some of which are meant to add flavors (specialty malts).

Some "traditional bock" recipes use a fair amount of pilsner malt, which is a (generally) high-quality, very pale grain that was developed in the 1800s and made it possible to make very light-colored lagers. It's a great product, but it wasn't around when bock beers were originally made, and it also needs to be boiled 50% longer than other malts to avoid developing a cooked vegetable taste and smell in the beer. While some award-winning bocks are made with pilsner malt, I'm not going to use it. Instead, I will rely on some of the other interesting European malts available.

The classic malt for bock beer is Munich malt, a slightly darker malt. Weyermann's is a good brand I can buy at my local homebrew shop, and it comes in a light and a darker version. For my 10 gallon batch, I will be using 15 pounds of the lighter version, 10 pounds of the darker version, and 3 pounds of Vienna malt, which is similar to Munich, but gives a bit of a toasted flavor I enjoy.

For hops, I will use just enough German hops to add enough bitterness so that the sweetness is not overwhelming. I will probably add 3 ounces of Hallertau hops, the first hop variety known to be cultivated. I will add them all at the beginning, so that the boil will drive off most of the hop flavor, which would only distract from the maltiness I'm going to be seeking in this beer.

For water, I will use good old Kansas City tap water, filtered through carbon to remove the chorine.

For yeast, I will be using a special variety from one of the big yeast companies, available only temporarily. It is called Hella-bock, and it should "produce rich, full-bodied and malty beers with a complex flavor profile and a great mouth feel." That's what I'm looking for, and I have a batch of Oktoberfest fermenting on it right now. After I keg that beer this weekend, I'll put the bock right on top of the yeast. The more yeast, the better for a strong beer like a bock, and there should be plenty of yeast left over after fermenting the Oktoberfest (yeast doesn't get "used up" when fermenting, it multiplies).

I'll ferment this beer in carboys (large glass bottles) placed in a chest freezer I converted to maintain a temperature of around 48 degrees, which is the temperature this yeast likes to work at. It should produce a rich, clean lager profile at the temperature, without any of the fruitiness or esters that an ale yeast might produce. After a few weeks of fermenting, I'll keg it and store it cold for as long as I can bear. If I were well-disciplined, I would save it for 6 months or more, but something tells me we will be pouring this one at our Mardi Gras party.

Any suggestions for improving this recipe? Any questions? I'll probably be brewing this one on Sunday - let me know if you want to come over and watch the process.

Island Beer

If you were going to be stranded on a desert island for a few years, and could only have one brand and type of beer, what would it be?

Believe it or not, that is the kind of thought that crosses my mid-western, non-nautical mind. I've never been near a desert island, but I watched a lot of Gilligan's Island growing up, so maybe that's what generates the question. (Although it appears that marijuana may have been the intoxicant of choice, at least for Mary Ann and Gilligan.)

The question is really a more engaging version of what's your favorite everyday beer? Many of the beers that really astound my taste buds are not beers I would necessarily want to drink on a regular basis. Three Philosophers, for example, is a wonderful, complex, rich beer, but it's a bit of a mouthful for regular drinking.

For my regular beer, I want moderate alcohol level, a refreshing but interesting flavor, and and a medium body. Personally, I enjoy a hop zing, but not so much that the bitterness is overwhelming.

Most of the world has chosen varieties of Pilsner. Budweiser is an adaptation of the style that originated in Czechoslovakia, as is Heineken, Tsing Tao and almost every other top-selling beer in the world. Some variation on the style would certainly be a good choice - I love a good Warsteiner now and then, and could picture it as the beverage of choice if I were Cast Away with a volleyball.

But, for me, pilsners lack the complexity of a great ale. The top-fermenting yeasts put out a few more esters, and the result is a beer that I think has greater depth and richness, without necessarily overloading the beer.

For me, the style I would want at my desert island hide-away would be an American Pale Ale. Medium body, solid hopping levels, spritely carbonation, and a good malt background would be just the thing.

As for brand, it comes down to three top choices. Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is the classic example of the style, and it is one of the best beers in the world. This summer I discovered Deschutes Mirror Pond, and was blown away by perfection. But, for me, if I find myself on a desert island, with one never-ending tap available, I'm going to opt for none other than Boulevard Pale Ale, which always manages to taste "just right". It's balanced slightly sweeter than the other two, and its hope profile blends bitterness, flavor and aroma.

The thought of being restricted to one beer only is a bit disheartening, but I could sit on the beach and feel connected to Kansas City with a Boulevard Pale Ale in my hand. Now for the other obvious question - Ginger or Mary Ann?

What Kind of Beer Goes With Turkey Dinner? 5 Beers for Thanksgiving

This time of year, wine writers do their best to graft a wine choice onto a dinner that does not really go well with wine. Bland turkey with side dishes running from sweet to rich and savory presents too complex a meal for a single wine to complement successfully. Most wind up recommending something like pinot noir or an oaked chardonnay as the least dissatisfactory, or they give up entirely and recommend Beaujolais Nouveau because it's coincidentally available at this time of year.

Thanksgiving is meant for beer. Indeed, the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock because they were running low on beer! Beer was the beverage of choice back then, even among Puritans, because it was safe from waterborne illnesses. The fact that the world of beer presents infinitely more choices than "red or white" makes it a better choice for today's Turkey Days as well.

The best answer to the question of what kind of beer to serve with Thanksgiving dinner is "your favorite," of course. If you like Bud Light or Corona with a lime wedge, don't let some beer snob like me throw you off your game. Cheap beer and football games have become a cherished part of our Holiday tradition, so pop open a can of Natty Light if that sounds good.

But, if you're interested in something a little different, not because you want to impress anyone but because you want a fresh flavor combination, here are 5 style suggestions, with a particular brand chosen as an exemplar.

1) English Pale Ale (Bass Ale): This is the classic beer of England, and probably what the Pilgrims yearned for most at the first Thanksgiving. Though the Bass Brewery was not built at Burton on Trent until the early days of the Industrial Revolution, the copper colored, hoppy, minerally ale typifies the best of traditional English ales. It's a complex beverage, with fruitiness to go enhance the turkey, hoppiness to contrast with the sweets, and a reasonable alcohol level to allow you to have two over the course of a lengthy Thanksgiving dinner.

2) Saison (Hennepin Ale): Saison is a rustic French farmhouse ale. Historically speaking, it's all wrong to suggest a French ale to go with a meal rooted in English/American history, but this style is simply the best possible beverage for a Thanksgiving dinner, so leave history to the scholars. Saison is a style designed for refreshing drinkability, originally to serve to harvest workers in the late summer. It is dry and complex, with a little citrus and coriander in the aroma, and a tartness and hop bite in the mouth. Saison is an under-appreciated marvel to go with rich foods, and Hennepin Ale is usually available in local stores for under $6. I also highly recommend Boulevard's Saison Brett, and Saison DuPont, if you can find it. Seriously, this style of beer is perfect for Thanksgiving.

3) Oktoberfest (Paulaner Oktoberfest-Märzen): Oktoberfest is the pumpkin pie of beer - rich, sweet, autumnal and wonderful. Everybody loves an Oktoberfest, and Paulaner makes a good choice. Garrison Keillor recently observed, however, that pumpkin pie is a testament to mediocrity; the best pumpkin pie you've ever had is not much different from the worst. The same might be said of Oktoberfest; almost any of the brands you will find on the shelves are going to deliver a malty, clean-finishing drink that will make your turkey taste better, your sweet potatoes more golden, and your inlaws more tolerable.

4) German Pilsner (Blue Paddle Pilsner): This style is close enough to "normal American beer" that your non-beer snob friends will give it a try, but it will shock them with an amped-up flavor profile. The German style of pilsner differs from the original Czech version by a more aggressive hop profile and a drier finish. Your first sip of Blue Paddle (by New Belgium) will shock you with its hop bitterness, but it's rounded out by the candy-like sweetness of pilsner malt. Not everyone will love this beer, and some will find it too bitter, but a few will find it to be a revelation, and a cause for Thanksgiving.

5) Holiday Beer (Nutcracker Ale): Please be careful if you decide to go with a holiday beer - most of them are vile concoctions adulterated with spices and fruits that cover up a mediocre or awful brew. Almost anything with pumpkin falls in this category, and cinnamon is also a bad sign. In fact, I probably ought to delete this fifth suggestion and start over with something safe, like a good Nut Brown Ale, but I feel like too many people will be tempted by the cutesy labels and crappy logic that fuel the holiday beer mania if I don't address it directly. If you want to get a seasonal holiday beer, get yourself some Nutcracker Ale. Nutcracker Ale, by Boulevard, is a beer of real merit, with complex caramel malt and a solid citrus hop flavor. It's a great beer. If you want to try a beer that promises sugar plums and elves, I admire and encourage your sense of adventur - you may stumble upon a gem. But it's probably not an appropriate beer to complement a meal, and you'll save a lot of money by picking them up out of the close-out bin in January.
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Happy Thanksgiving, readers. Count yourself lucky to live in a time and place where literally hundreds of beer offerings are available to excite your taste. Cheers!

99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog - Odell's Bourbon Barrel Stout

Imagine my delight when a recent morning at work was interrupted by a phone call from one of my favorite people asking me whether I wanted her to pick up any special beers from Odell's Brewery in Fort Collins, Colorado. She was standing in the brewery gift shop, and mentioned a limited edition Bourbon Barrel Stout. Sold!

Tonight, I uncorked the 750 milliliter bottle, after letting it warm up to around 45-50 degrees. A good rich beer should not be served tongue-numbingly cold; the warmth allows the complexities of the beer shine.

The aroma is all coffee and chocolate, and the color is dark brown just this side of black. No hop aroma can cut its way through the rich, malty smell. A note of vanilla gives just a hint of the complexity to be found just underneath the dark tan head. At 10.5% alcohol, it's not surprising that the head does not last long, though a film remains, and a lace of foam decorates the side of the glass as the beer disappears.

The mouthfeel is perfect. A beer this tasty is sometimes syrupy, but this one is enjoyably, perhaps dangerously, drinkable.

Appearance, aroma and mouthfeel are good, but the flavor is what makes this beer memorable. I'm not a huge fan of bourbon, because I don't enjoy the burn of high-alcohol liquors. This beer delivers the wonderful flavors of bourbon without the burn. Aged for 4 months in barrels from Buffalo Trace Distillery, this imperial stout yields agreeably to the vanilla, caramel and slight smokiness of bourbon in a cooling mouthful of chocolate and coffee maltiness. You get the pleasure of bourbon without the pain.

Don't let the word "stout" bring expectations of lots of dry roasted barley. Without the bourbon, this would be a big, creamy milk stout, leaning toward an imperial porter. I wonder whether I would find it too sweet without the added spiciness of the bourbon, but it is delightful as served.

This beer was around $16 for a bottle the same size as a bottle of wine. Frankly, it's worth every nickle. It has much more going on flavor-wise than even a very good bottle of wine, and the creativity and skill demonstrated by the brewers outshine the work put in by 99% of winemakers.

I don't know what I would pair this beer with. It's a little sweet to go with a steak, but it might be the perfect accompaniment to a dark chocolate mousse and a cigar. It certainly goes well with the handful of pretzels I'm tasting it with.

This is definitely one of the best beers I have ever had. The fact that a friend took time out of her journey to visit her friend to pick it up for me certainly makes me appreciate it more, but, if I see this on the shelves of any local stores, I'll be picking up a few bottles to cellar for special occasions.

Brew Day Tomorrow - Belgian Dubbel

I love Belgian Abbey Style ales, and dubbels are my favorite. Rich with raisiny, fruity esters, this is a warming, complex autumn beer (though I love a good one any time of the year). If you've had Chimay Red, Corsendonk Abbey Brown Ale, Grimbergen Double (on tap at Harry's Country Club, I believe), Ommegang, or even New Belgian Abbey Ale, you've had a good example.

Tomorrow, I'll try to make 10 gallons of my own. I've been amassing two large starters (~1600 milliliters) of special Belgian Abbey Ale yeast (Wyeast 1214) over the past week. I have made up my own recipe - 13 pounds of Belgian pale malt, 5 pounds of Belgian Pilsner malt, 1 pound of Special B, 2 pound of Belgian Aromatic, 2 pounds of Mexican pilloncilla sugar, and a pound and a half of cane sugar. I'm using 1 ounce of New Zealand Hallertauer leaf hops to add just a touch of bitterness.

If anyone wants to see how all that makes a beer, email or call. I'll probably start mid-morning, and be at it till mid-afternoon.

Corn and Spit, and Memories

Via KC Hophead, I learned that Dogfish Head Brewery is producing Chicha.

Chicha is a corn-based beer created when people chew corn, spit it out, let it dry, then mix it with water, boil it, let it ferment, and then drink it. I know, I know, it sounds more like a fraternity hazing ritual than a real beverage, but it's popular in the Andes.

A few years ago, I was in Bolivia on a service trip, and I really wanted to taste chicha. It seemed wrong to visit a country and not partake of one of the core experiences. Leonardo, our guide, was having nothing of it, though, because he told us the chicha parlors were dangerous, disorderly places where drunk Bolivians might want to take on a conspicuous, non-Spanish-speaking, non-Quechuan-speaking American. Given the near-incident that involved brandy, a drunken man, the "Girls of the Mountain" and Abba, I can't claim that he was being completely unreasonable.

Chicha was served in little huts and shacks on the side of the roads, and advertised by small white flags on long poles to announce that fresh chicha was available. When I saw a flag flying near the place we were staying, I told the guide that I was going to pay a visit, with or without him. I reasoned that for almost 2 weeks, I had been the largest person within eyesight; even if some chicha-soaked rowdy wanted a piece of me, I felt confident I could extricate myself and anyone who wanted to be in my posse.

Leonardo and Robin accompanied me to the local chicha shack at around 4 in the afternoon.

I don't know how rowdy the places get at night, but we were the only customers there. The proprietess was a tiny - I mean maybe 4 or 4 and a half feet tall - wrinkled old woman who looked like she would be whipped in a cage-match with Mother Theresa. There was also a chicken running around the place, scratching around on the dirt floor. There seemed to be no electricity, and the woman dipped a pitcher of chicha out of a repurposed industrial barrel, and brought it to us with a drinking gourd. It cost 12 cents for a pitcher, and, apparently, you could negotiate discounts if you were drinking multiple pitchers.

You don't just drink chicha. Before partaking, you pour a little from the gourd onto the dirt floor, as a respectful offering to Pachamama, the goddess of the good earth. I forgot to spill once, and earned a scowl from the old woman.

As for taste, to be honest, taste was such a tiny part of the entire experience that I neglected to taste with my entire attention. I was surprised how much it tasted like one of the wild-yeast-fermented non-fruited lambics of Belgium, thought it was a bit sweeter. It was only mildly carbonated, and the gourd was not an ideal vessel for careful observation of color, but I would say it was light-colored, kind of like a yeasty Belgian Wit. I don't think it was highly alcoholic, though it certainly was not a weak beverage; it seemed to be at about the same strength as a typical beer, or perhaps slightly weaker.

It is a strange experience to taste something without knowledge of what it is "supposed" to taste like. Given my knowledge of how the brew was traditionally produced, the scant rafts of foam floating on top were a bit of a hurdle to enjoyment, though my intellect knew they were carbonation and not remnants from the little old lady's brewing process.

On the day we departed Bolivia, Leonardo presented me with two of the only bottled examples of chicha that I saw. They were in brown plastic liter bottles, and labeled "Chernobyl Chicha". I stuffed them into my luggage and got them back to the States without having to explain them to anyone, for which I was grateful. By the time I drank them, they were more cidery and lacked the liveliness of the chicha I drank with a chicken at my feet.

Our best food and drink experiences have more to do with experience than taste.

A Hoppy Shade of Pale

I've been neglecting the blog writing this week - it's tough to get caught up after a week away.

For a better-spent week, Gary Street at the under-appreciated Muddy Mo provides a report on his week tasting 7 pale ales and looking forward to his next homebrew project.

"Pale ale" is a term that applies to a broad swath of beers, and Gary's sequential approach is a great way to learn about different beers and your own tastes. You can get a lot more nuance out of a beer if you taste it in comparison with another of the same or similar style, and that helps you decide what to be looking for in your brewing and buying.

Hefeweizen vs. Milk Stout

Yesterday evening, I donated two 5 gallon kegs of beer to a charity event for to support ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease) research. The event was spectacular, and I was honored to have my beer be served at the same event that featured Christopher Elbow chocolates and spectacular food served by Chefs Jasper Mirabile, Charles d’Ablaing, Marshall Roth, Josh Eans, Todd Walleen, Jeff Troiola and Nick Jonjevic. Those are all culinary allstars - it was kind of intimidating to be on the same menu.

The event came at a good time, because I have a great supply of beer right now. Out of a selection of Schwarzbier, Dark American Lager, Milk Stout, Hefeweizen, and Robust Porter, I chose the two freshest - Milk Stout and Hefeweizen. The weather was perfect for either - cool enough to tackle a rich stout, but after a day warm enough to crave the refreshment of a Hefeweizen.

To my surprise, the Hefeweizen won the popularity contest, hands down. I had expected the richer, sweeter, chocolaty Milk Stout to draw more drinkers, especially since it was served next to a great selection of cigars provided by Fidel's. Hefeweizens are a little funky and playful, with banana esters and cloudy yeast. But, the masses spoke, and when I went to pick up the leftovers today, the Hefeweizen was all gone, while I got to bring home a gallon or so of the Milk Stout.

As a homebrewer, you don't often get the opportunity to gauge public reaction. When you serve your beer to friends, they are obligated to say nice things. When you submit your beer to contests, you get expert opinions focused on nuances that would completely elude the average person. Honest popular opinion is scarce.

The thrill of the evening, though, was walking out and seeing Chef Josh Eans, a beer expert who has put together one of Kansas City's most intelligent beer lists (.pdf), sipping a glass of my homebrewed Milk Stout with a smile on his face.

And the fact that it all supported an effort to find a cure for a horrible disease made it even better.

Great Food Tomorrow Night! And an Opportunity to Support the ALS Foundation

How does "Smoked Porter Braised Piedmontese Short Ribs,Black Truffle Grits, Tomato Jam, and Baby Arugula" sound? How about "Tomato Water Poached Halibut, Spanish Sweet Tarragon, Watermelon and Heirloom Tomatoes with Radish accents"? Does "Lemon Grass Seared Fresh Water Prawn, Corn, Green Tomato and Turnip Fricassee, Herb Pistou" sound good?

There will be some homebrew by me on the porch, too.

Better yet, the proceeds will go to support the local ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease) Foundation.

Tickets are still available here. It's going to be a fantastic evening for a great cause.

A Little Background on Boulevard's New Beer

The next Smokestack Series scheduled to hit the shelves will be a Doppelbock bearing the name Seeyoulator. I haven't tasted it yet, but I thought I might share a little background on the name and the history of doppelbocks.

Doppelbocks are a thick, rich beer brewed as "liquid bread" by German monks to sustain themselves through Lenten days of fasting, when the ban on solid food was made merciful by the flowing of an extra-strong, chewy lager. A doppelbock has a rich mouthfeel, enhanced with generous amounts of protein and unfermentable malt sugars.

Originally brewed by the vegetarian Paulaner monks in the mid-1600s, Salvator Doppelbock was viewed as such a wonderful indulgence that some of the more worry-prone monks thought it wise to gain papal approval for drinking this liquid bread during Lent. So, they sent a barrel of it to the Vatican, for the Pope to sample. Sanitation and refrigeration in the 17th century were non-existent, and, when the Pope finally tasted the soured, nasty beer, he deemed it an appropriate drink for those doing penance during Lent, and, thus, the monks of Paulaner were given specific Papal approval to brew and drink Salvator during a season when everyone else was suffering.

The monks always called their beer Salvator, though the reason for the name is the subject of some debate.

The name Salvator is another unsolvable mystery. Some say that the monks referred to their sustaining and gladdening brew as Saintly Father Beer or Sankt-Vater-Beir from which Salvator derived. Another theory states that it comes from a passage in the Paulaner’s benediction, “ad sanctum Salvatorem.”

When other breweries began imitating this luscious liquid, they adopted a convention of ending the name of their versions with the -ator suffix. Perhaps such a strong beer leads to quarrels, for there is dispute about whether this convention was intended to pay homage to the original, or whether it was an attempt to cash in on its fame and good reputation.

Soon we will get to try Boulevard's version of the style. When you pop the cork on the first bottle, raise a toast to the good vegetarian monks of Paulaner, and say the name "Seeyoulator" with the reverence befitting a centuries-old tradition.

Beer, Dinner and a Documentary - Guess What the Highlight of My Evening Was . . .

Yesterday, my lovely spouse and I departed work a bit early, so as to make the 5:00 showing of "Food, Inc." at the Tivoli, and to follow it with cashing in a gift certificate dinner at McCoy's Public House.

Food, Inc. tackles the food industry, and does a pretty effective job of it. We see dead chickens and nasty beef processing facilities and even legislators making laws, in an unacknowledged nod to the age-old claim that the legislative process is akin to making sausage. The movie is just okay; close-ups of farmers talking about soybeans and pigs are not the best way to convey factual information. Further, the information conveyed was not particularly groundbreaking - corporations control agriculture for profit, meat-making is a filthy business, and veggie libel laws are unAmerican. The best part of the movie came right before the credits, when they ran suggestions of what you can do to eat healthier and more sustainably. I suppose that if you somehow walked into the movie without any understanding of agricultural issues, the movie might be eye-opening, but I don't think anyone who doesn't already care is likely to fork over money to see a documentary about food.

McCoy's was a lot more enjoyable.

Service started with the waitress seeking our drink order literally before we sat down. I don't like waiting half an hour before getting served, but her haste was a bit extreme.

Fortunately, the beers were better than the service. I tried the milk stout, which was full-bodied and approachable, the way a milk stout ought to be, and a kolsch. I was particularly impressed with the kolsch, which is kind of like Germany's version of cream ale. The beer should be a light, dry, somewhat hoppy ale that leans toward a lager style. I thought the McCoy's version was one of the best I've ever tasted. While the beer was perfectly balanced, I fell in love with the hops. They were floral, almost perfumy, but had a bit of peppery spice to them as well. It packed a lot of subtle flavors into a beer that would be easy to overlook, because it doesn't have huge flavor components screaming for attention.

As for the food at McCoy's, we ignored the movie we had just seen and ordered lobster spring rolls. The chef must have taken the movie more seriously, though, because we found no evidence that any lobster had died to make our spring rolls. Instead, the filling presented a mushy, bland paste of cabbage, with same taste intensity as the bed of styrofoam noodles they were served on.

My wife's mac cheese looked great, and my bite was enjoyable, though she maintained that Cafe Trio's version is far better, and I defer to her expertise. It was a fine entree, if not superlative. Because we had to reach a spending minimum for the gift certificate to apply, I went ahead and ordered a rib-eye steak, which came in the thin-cut style favored by chain steakhouses, and dominated by a dollop of assertive cilantro butter that had not been mentioned on the menu.

Of the three elements of the evening, the beer stood out as the best. In keeping with the "think local" theme of the movie, it was also the element that originated where we drank it.

Local Brew Contests in August

Two local homebrew contests brighten up the Kansas City calendar in August, and one of them offers you the final voice in the judging process.

75th Street

The first one will be the 2nd Annual 75th Street Homebrew Master's Contest. It features a rare, free-form approach to judging. Rather than rigidly measuring how closely a beer matches up to the style guidelines of the Beer Judge Certification Program, this one tosses the style guidelines out the window in favor of which beer tastes best. From all of the submissions, an expert panel will narrow the field to 5, and then those 5 will be served to and judged by the public on Saturday, August 29.

Homebrewing, like many endeavors, balances science and creativity. The vast majority of homebrew contests favor the scientific side. Beers are submitted under specific subcategories, and they are judged by how closely they fit into the written descriptions of those styles. That causes competition-minded brewers to adhere to traditional recipes instead of creativity. Experimentation, like trying English hops in a German style, is discouraged, not because it would taste bad, but because it is not what the style guidelines call for. I use a computer program in designing my recipes to make certain that the color, bitterness, strength and other measurables fit within the guidelines.

The 75th Street Contest is a radical departure. If you want to try tossing oatmeal into a pilsner, and it comes out tasting great, then you might win. Last year, I won the contest with a beer based loosely on the Belgian tripel style, but bolstered with honey and Mexican sugar to create a beer that serious judges would criticize, but pleased anyone looking for something sweet and strong.

If you want to taste a few interesting, well-crafted homebrews, show up at 75th Street on Saturday, August 29 and help choose from among the finalists. I'll probably be submitting a Dark American Lager, a Hefeweizen, a Robust Porter, a Schwarzbier and a Milk Stout. If I'm one of the finalists, I'll let you know!

KC Irish Fest Stout Brewing Contest

If the 75th Street contest represents freedom, the KC Irish Fest Stout Brewing Contest represents focus. Only stouts need apply.

That said, stouts are a fairly broad group of beers, with 6 recognized subcategories. Dry Stout is probably what you think of when you think of stout - Guinness Draft, Murphy's and Beamish fall within this category. Sweet Stout is often brewed with lactose to give it a more full body and a sweeter taste - try Left Hand Brewery's Milk Stout for a great example of this enjoyable beer. Oatmeal Stout is similar to sweet stout, but it uses oatmeal to increase the body of the beer instead of lactose. Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout is a good example of this one, as is Goose Island's Oatmeal Stout. Foreign Extra Stout is actually two varieties - a thick, sweeter Tropical version, or a strong, bitter Export version. Essentially, these are sweet stout or dry stout on steroids. If you've had a Dragon Stout from Jamaica, you've had a great example of the tropical version, and if you've had Coopers Best Extra Stout from Australia, you know what a great dry version tastes like. American Stout is similar to the export version of the foreign extra stout, but typically uses American hops (which often have a citrus flavor) and tend to be more bitter. Rogue's Shakespeare Stout is one of my favorites. Finally, Russian Imperial Stout is a monster of flavor, with 8% alcohol or higher, and deep, rich, complex flavor. Go grab a bottle of Bell’s Expedition Stout or North Coast Old Rasputin Imperial Stout for a visit to stout heaven.

Out of all those subcategories, the KC Irish Fest will identify one as the best homebrewed stout in Kansas City. I'm going to be submitting a Milk Stout that is still fermenting, partially because it is a little bit unusual, and might stand out for the judges (who will be tasting stout after stout), and because I wanted to brew a batch for my buddy Ancillary Adams to enjoy. Because, ultimately, while it's nice to win contests and I eventually want to have a wall full of blue ribbons, my favorite prize in homebrewing is when somebody takes a sip, gets a bit of a surprised look on his or her face, and says, "Hey, this is really great! You brewed this?".