I need to pay more attention to Mikkeller and Evil Twin beers. Their beers just got more interesting after I read this great New York Times article on the feud between the twin brothers that run Mikkeller and Evil Twin. The Evil Twin brother, owns a bar in Brooklyn, and Mikkeller opened a restaurant/bar in San Francisco last year, which is the most hipster place I have ever been (you get charged higher prices if you aren't sporting beard and wearing a flannel shirt and skinny jeans).
This post from Jeff Bagby is sad, uplifting and wonderful all at the same time. I won't ruin the story, but make sure you read all the way to the end. Bagby Beer Company has not brewed its first beer but it is already overflowing in beer karma.
These wines (Loire Valley red wines) are made of the cabernet franc grape, which in
contrast to the inherent charm of Burgundy’s pinot noir, seems more
austere and reserved. While the pinot noir grape seduces with sweetly
fruity aromas and flavors, the cabernet franc often has a distinctly
herbal quality that many Americans, more accustomed to a domestic
industry that largely dreads the faintest hint of “green” in its wines,
interpret as underripe and forbidding.
Pascaline
noted the seeming inconsistency of Americans who are crazy for the
piney character of aggressively hopped microbrews like India Pale Ales
but reject wines they deem herbaceous.
“I don’t understand a country that likes so much the I.P.A.’s on the one hand but doesn’t like these,” she said.
The IPA of wines? Apparently Loire Valley reds are inexpensive so I'll have to look for one and see if it really is like an IPA.
I don't watch or listen to many audio or video beer podcasts, but one I have been watching on a regular basis is The Beer Temple videoblog out of Chicago. It is done by Chris Quinn, who along with his wife own a craft beer store called The Beer Temple. Quinn is no media professional - rampant "ums" and "ahs" - and I suspect he makes up his script as he goes along. But this is what makes his videos watchable and authentic. He doesn't know what's underneath many of the caps he's popping and we see his real reactions. He keeps most video lengths in the 10 to 20 minute range, which is perfect.
The current video is on Societe Brewing and we get to watch Mr. Quinn has he tries The Apprentice, The Pupil and The Butcher for the first time. It's good to see a San Diego brewer getting praise, and I'm glad I'm not the only one that struggles with the dang flip tops on Societe's metal growlers.
I've slogged through hard to drink beers before - Hamm's, Schlitz, Keystone and Keystone Light, certain German beers, and the worst beer ever, Mexico's Victoria - but I've always made it through the bottle(s) or glass. Stone Brewing's Crime is one beer I could not finish*. I opened a bottle on New Year's Eve, but Crime immediately kicked my butt and I surrendered only a third through the bottle. I humbly bow my head to this demon beer.
Crime's base is the Arrogant Bastard derivative Lukcy Basartd, and it was aged in bourbon barrels. Whatever. I'll take Stone's word on this because all I tasted was peppers, scorching hot peppers. Crime's nose was awesome, it smelled like a bowl of fresh-sliced jalapeno peppers (according to Stone the beer also includes "ultra-hot black nagas"). The aroma translated straight to the taste.
Crime burns. Crime hurts. Crime abuses. My mouth, throat, and stomach sizzled, and drinking Crime felt like eating a jalapeno-laced dish with nothing to offset the force of the chile. Crime's heat stayed long through the finish. The first drink hurt. I gamely tried a few more believing I'd acclimate to the intensity, but I didn't. Crime neither mellowed nor relented, and I put down my glass.
I bought Crime thinking it the lesser of Stone's Crime and Punishment duo. I am not sure if my assumption was corrrect and am not going to try and find out. I've had pepper beers before and I tasted their pepper spice and flavor, but
none had Crime's raw pepper heat. All were pantywaists compared to Crime.
* I want to be clear, Crime is a well-made beer. The physical difficulty I had in drinking it
is the only comparison I'm making to swill like Keystone or Victoria.)
I did not post a review my favorite beer of 2013 - Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ale's Baudelaire Beer iO Saison - on the blog. I'm not sure why. I guess I wanted to write something profound. Now as my favorite beer of 2013 I have to write my thoughts on Baudelaire Beer.
Just looking at its label alone you know there is something different about the Baudelaire Beer. It's a portrait of a calm, wide-eyed waif with a short haircut and heart-shaped locket set against a pink background. The picture takes on a sinister twist when you realize that the girl's hair pin is a fly the size of a sparrow, and you then start to think something strange awaits you inside the bottle. I had the Baudelaire Beer on the Fourth of July, and it was batch 1015/1016, bottled on 02/22/2012 (abv of 6.8%). While I did not formally review this beer I did take notes, and I wrote that the beer was "deep copper, with a pink hue. Effervescent funk. Light and dry. Amazing."
The Baudelaire Beer was brewed with rose petals, rose hips and hibiscus, and I remember a faint, but persistent floral presence throughout the nose and taste. It mixed well with the yeast, which gave the beer its gentle funk. The Baudelaire is floral and funky, complex yet drinkable, and more wild ale than saison. I thought this beer a masterpiece.
I missed this year's version of the Baudelaire Beer, which I saw on shelves in late summer, in part because I didn't want a sophomore jinx, because any beer had on a lazy summer holiday is going to have an advantage over most other beers. I didn't want to buy another Baudelaire Beer and open it on some fall weekday night only find a pedestrian beer. I'll keep my memory for now.
Other worthy beers of 2013 included - in no particular order - Mother Earth's Kismet IPA, Ballast Point's Homework Series Batch 1 ( a red ale), The Bruery's Saison Tonnellerie, Modern Times Neverwhere 100% Brett Trois IPA, and Pizza Port Ocean Beach's fresh hop Coup D'Etat and sour Mi Nachos Trois. Finally, Stone's Enjoy By IPA, which is a hop revelation every time I have a bottle, needs a special note. It has become one of my favorite beers. I know it's big, bombastic, and over-the-top, but it's also delicious. I had a couple of triple IPAs this year, but neither was close to Enjoy By in terms of taste, or hops, or construction. Enjoy By, I believe, is the hoppiest beer I have ever tried, but it maintains enough sweet malt balance to ensure drinkability. It's a testament to brewing excellence.
It wasn't all good in 2013, I had some crap beers, too, and unfortunately most of these were from new, local breweries. I'm not going to call out any particular brewer - and there were several - because I tried most of the beers when picking up pizza to go, so I can't honestly say I gave the beers a fair tasting. Plus, I know new breweries tweak recipes, so what initially stinks might change over time into something better (let's hope). But I do know the difference between what tastes good and what is garbage, and a few were drain pours. With the craft beer boom growing every day there is plenty of competition for tap space. New breweries need to resist the urge to standout through strange ingredients or style bending, and must instead focus on making good, drinkable beer. Experimentation can come later with success. There is always room for good beers, and new brewers that put out lousy or marginal beer are going to have a hard time surviving.
(There is a difference between a beer I didn't like and a bad beer. I wrote a negative review of the Stone Dayman Coffee IPA Collaboration early in the year. I didn't care for this beer, but it was obviously well made, and you could easily argue that it was a good beer from that standpoint. A well-made beer is never going to make my list of worst beers even if I didn't like it.)
The most interesting beer of the year was Ballast Point's Indra Kunindra, an explosion of coconut, cedar, cayenne pepper, and spice. This near foamless export stout brings a different flavor with each drink. This is not a beer you drink everyday, but worth having on occasion. It also shows what a successful brewery can do when it wants to experiment.
It's been maybe two years or more since I last visited the San Diego Zoo. I went yesterday and was impressed with the availability of craft beer. I knew the upscale restaurant Albert's served good beer, but I noticed several kiosks and small eateries around the zoo that offer craft beer, and you're even allowed to walk around the zoo with beer. I am guessing this is relatively new, because I don't remember beer stands from my previous zoo excursions. I saw local craft brewers Karl Strauss,Stone Brewing and Ballast Point represented (and a few non-local big boys). It's great having hometown brewers prominently selling their beer at one of San Diego's largest tourist attractions.
The Lost Abbey does not come to mind when I think of San Diego breweries crafting IPAs. It doesn't come to mind at all, actually. The Lost Abbey is known for Belgian-style beers, corked and caged in imposing 750 ml bottles. It's time to change my thinking. The Lost Abbey's draft-only Holiday release, Merry Taj, is a serious IPA.
The burnt orange, near opaque beer is pure West Coast IPA. I didn't taste any Belgian spices, Belgian yeast, or any other Belgian influences. Merry Taj is a piney, bitter, full-bodied IPA. It has some spice zip, but not the dominating spices so common in Holiday beers. This is a meaty, complex beer. It has a malt sweetness, but hop bitterness commands the beer. Merry Taj is listed as an IPA but drinks bigger, and with an 8% abv it sits on the border between an IPA and a double IPA. This beer is a sipper not a pounder. Merry Taj is worth seeking out while it's still available.
(Two hat tips on this beer or I would not have known about it. I first heard about Merry Taj before Thanksgiving on FM 94.9's Friday night Rock & Roll Happy Hour, the radio station's weekly profile of local breweries. Second, Merry Taj made Brandon Hernandez's 2013 list of best new beers.)
I visited the Central Coast earlier this week and had an early dinner at Fresco Valley Cafe in Slovang. I was struck by the wine list, noticing only two wines not from the immediate area. This is excellent. It'd be easy to add wines from other parts of California, but this restaurant chose to stay local, which is a benefit to local wineries. The restaurant offered nearly a half-dozen Figueroa Mountain Brewing 22-ounce bottled beers, too. It took me two photos to get the wine list:
San Diego restaurants, in general, are getting better about serving San Diego beers and promoting local breweries, but there is room for improvement.
Ballast Point's San Salvador Saison is a beer indigenous to San Diego, sourced with local ingredients. I have wanted to try this beer since reading about it several years ago. It takes its name from Portuguese explorer Juan Cabrillo's flagship, which he commanded when venturing up the Pacific Coast and came upon what is now San Diego Harbor in 1542. I finally had the chance to try San Salvador Saison at a bar and grill in Ocean Beach not far from where Cabrillo first saw San Diego.
I can't think of a better example of terroir. Drinking San Salvador is like taking a hike in San Diego - it is all manzanita and sage along with local other herbs and fruit. San Salvador shows the pliability of the saison style. It has a sharp effervescence and the manzanita jumps at you immediately, permeating the mouth and staying through a long finish. San Salvador is full-bodied and weighs in at 8% abv. The high booze level (relative for a saison) and White Labs' saison yeast have little influence, and both get lost in the cacophony of powerful ingredients. San Salvador is not a session beer, it's strong flavors are unrelenting. It's a good beer for sure, but one is enough. If you have ever hiked in San Diego, you should try this beer, it'll take you right back to the trail.
I posted about forgetting the name of Belgian brewer Cantillon, but that was nothing compared to the fool I made of myself in Paris last summer. Paris in July is hot and the sun does not set until after 10:00 pm. After a day of walking in the heat and waiting in long lines in under air-conditioned museums, we wanted a crisp white wine to accompany the bread cheese we picked up on the way back to our hotel. The thought of resting our tired feet with some snacks and wine while people watching from the hotel balcony seemed just the right segue before our dinner quest. I just need to get the wine. Lucky for me the wonderful Left Bank wine shop La Derniére Goutte was right around the corner from our hotel.
I know enough about wines to know I don't know much, and when it comes to French wine my knowledge is elementary. I know Red Bordeauxs and Champagne - who doesn't. I know Red Burgundies are made with Pinot Noir grapes and White Burgundies are made with Chardonnay grapes. Finally, I know the reds of Southern France use the Syrah grape, among others. Yes, my knowledge of French wine fits in three simple sentences.
I walked into La Derniére Goutte and milled around reading labels (er, checking price tags) as if I could pick a good bottle from just looking at the pictures. I was hot, tired and in a hurry, and not in the mood for a wine I didn't know. I wanted a simple white wine, a White Burgundy with the familiar Chardonnay grape. When the woman working at the shop was free of the other customer, I went up and asked if she could recommend a nice White Zinfandel.
White Zinfandel! In Paris! I had just asked for help finding a bottle of White Zinfandel instead of White Burgundy! This was akin to going into a Stone World Bistro Bistro or a Toronado and asking for a Bud Light Lime-A-Rita. I tried to quickly correct my wine crime, but my ignorance was unleashed. The store was suddenly quiet. The other customers, a pretentious couple from Texas who had just placed a Texan-sized wine order for shipment back to the Lone Star Sate, whipped their heads around and a small, smirk spread across the man's face. The saleswoman held up a dismissive hand and told my she'd never heard of White Zinfandel, but her aghast look was a sure sign she had (turns out she was an American from California who now lives in Paris, so of course she dang well knew White Zinfandel and its reputation.)
I quickly repeated "White Burgundy, White Burgundy," several times correcting my error and tried to crack an awkward joke to recover some level of respect and credibility. I did not.
Rather than treat me like a complete rube and recommend glorified vinegar, the saleswoman took pity on me and suggested a lovely Chablis (also made with Chardonnay grapes) that was delicious. I'm no stranger to foolishness, but this gaffe has stuck with me. I should asked for help finding a Rosé, even I couldn't have jumbled that simple name.
Here is an article from NPR's The Salt on sourcing local ingredients for craft beer. I'm all for local beer, local ingredients, local business, local anything, but the sense of "place" needs to know its place. Just because you can put an ingredient in a beer doesn't mean you should. This beer sounds extreme in the wrong way:
At in Santa Cruz, Calif., owner Alec Stefansky brews a red ale using
maple-scented candy cap mushrooms. Stefansky, who has also experimented
with fragrant redwood branches, says using wild, local ingredients in
his beer is a way "to make flavors that are uniquely Northern
Californian."
For his beer — called Rubidus Red, after the
candy cap's Latin name — Stefansky collects the mushrooms himself each
fall and winter. He says that the maple syrup aroma of dried candy caps
is so potent that a single cup will do for seven barrels of the beer.
What's more, if a person drinks just 2 or 3 pints of Rubidus Red, he or
she will begin to smell deliciously like the fungus, according to
Stefansky.
"You'll wake up smelling like breakfast," he says.
The article is full of other retch-inducing examples. Too few breweries make a decent red ale, let alone one with wild mushrooms, or salmonberries, or chokeberries or stinging nettles. I'm not a complete beer curmudgeon, the sage-brewed Stone/Dogfish Head/Vicory collaboration Saison du BUFF is great, and Ballast Point's San Salvador saison, brewed with San Diego-sourced ingredients, is a beer I want to try (if ever brewed again). I believe a brewery needs to master a few basic beers before starting down uncharted paths. Bringing in strange, non-traditional ingredients is a convenient way to mask a marginal beer or brewer. I'd much prefer a well-made local beer paired with a soup or stew or other dish created with locally sourced ingredients.