Thirsty Thursday–Shoot to Thrill

Just last week I was going on about the particularly aggressive winter we’re enjoying. And wouldn’t you know it, this week I get to talk about another nuance of a Midwestern Winter: the part about the huge temperature variation.

One day it’s zero, and the next day it’s 50 degrees. One day it’s dull brown, and the next day it’s a foot and a half of snow. Then it melts and the back roads are a muddy mess. Then it’s colder than a well digger’s ass in the Klondike for two weeks straight.

Then it’s today. Sixty degrees, sunshine and the first day with the windows down and “Shoot to Thrill” blaring over the stereo. “Back in Black.” “You Shook Me All Night Long.” Ahhh, memories!

I accompanied that pleasure with my homebrewed bock. Life is good.

Have a drink on me,

Wilson

Trans-Atlantic Beer Tasting Simul-Post

Wish you were here…

Beer is such a lovely libation. It’s refreshing, flavorful and it brings friends together. It occurred to me recently that I’d cultivated a pair of cyber-friends that would be a great joy to sit down with for a pint. The problem is that we’re thousands of miles, an ocean and seven time zones apart.

With the help of the Internet, beer worked its friendship fusing wonders last week as I sat down for a pint with Boak and Bailey of Boak and Bailey fame. Our quest was to drink beer together, the same beers, despite our location problem. I sorted out what British beers I could get and they gave me a short list of American micros to which they had access.

We settled in on Adnams Broadside and Anchor Porter.

Taking into consideration time differences in time, I cracked open bottles at an earlier than normal 2 pm, while Boak and Bailey held off until 8pm. In the end, having a conversation on the nuances of a beer was a minor struggle via email, but the shared moment was worth it. The Londoners turned in, and I got back to work. Most certainly, a good time was had by all:

BOAK & BAILEY
Apologies, we only just got in, so starting a bit late on the simul-tasting.

However, we did cheat a bit and try some Broadside on tap last night in our local.

Well, if nothing else, this exercise has made us re-evaluate Adnams. Unfortunately for them, they’re successful enough to be served in pubs that don’t really know how to look after them - so up to this point we’ve always been pretty unimpressed.

However, the Broadside last night was great - we noted;

“medium brown colour. Fruity aroma - like blackcurrants. Not much head and mediu body. Complex range of flavours, incorporating dried fruits, blackcurrant sourness, a slight roastiness, and mild hoppiness. All in all, a bit like a slight burnt fruitcake (that’s a good thing)”

Note that on tap it’s only 4.7%, compared to the bottled 6.3%, which we’re about to crack open now…

WILSON
I cheated slightly as well, having cracked open a bottle of the Anchor Porter the day I contacted you. That one seemed to have a touch of oxidation coming on, just slightly papery, but the bottle I picked up for today seems much more in order.

Were you able to procure the Suffolk Special Bitter after all? I brought along that bottle to drink as well. Just poured it as your email hit, in fact. I did the first two first, in hopes that I was somewhat drinking alongside you, so this one comes drunk in the wrong order, being the least assertive of the three.

BOAK & BAILEY
Well, we’re just working our way through the Broadside (Bottled version)

It’s very interesting to contrast it with the draft version. It looks better from a bottle — much better head retention (the draft version was very very flat).

It has many of the same flavours when you take a good glug, and obviously more alcohol, but the finish just isn’t as good. There’s a bit of fizz which takes away from the fruity richness, and you end up with a kind of watery flavour, compared to the draft version’s complex finish. You could taste yesterday evening’s fruity flavours well into the night.

And we’re not just saying that to suck up to CAMRA…

WILSON
So, the Broadside: my label says 6%. Nice malty aroma, caramel, dates or figs. Same flavors, along with that sorta signature earthy English hop action I adore. That bitterness is there, but acts it out in a dry mouthfeel way in the finish.

If we were sitting side-by-side in a pub, I’m sure I’d ask about your day. What’s going on with you these days?

BOAK & BAILEY
Ha ha! We’re actually sitting here right now eating our first rough attempt at homemade bacon (that is, a pork chop that I put in a load of salt and sugar for about 36 hours). It’s really tasty. A nice big chunk of pork belly is on order from the butcher so we can do it properly.

How about you? How is the restaurant coming along?

And is it possible that Adnams brew three versions of Broadside…? One for cask, one for domestic bottles, and one to go overseas…?

WILSON
Where’d you learn how to make bacon? That sounds cool!

The restaurant’s coming along great. Due to our time change issues, I’m taking a break from my workday to have a beer with you. Yesterday and today, I’ve been hauling in my coolers. My back hurts from lifting and whatnot. But it’s all good whatnot. Lotta painting is complete. Flooring guy comes in tomorrow. Lining beers up. It’s too much fun to be work.

As for the Adnams, is it possible that they round it off for the draft labels? A whole separate batch to drop .3%? And it seems that we’d be the ones getting the extra alcohol.

BOAK & BAILEY
Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs don’t take kindly to messing with percentages!

We thought the Broadside got a bit better once it’d had gone flatter…

Anyway, we’re moving on to Anchor porter. Are we drinking too quickly, like typical Brits?

WILSON
I meant to type round off the import (export) labels, but the point’s still the same.

I’ve decided I’m not a big Anchor Porter fan. I think it has a little more hops than I like in a stout or porter. I haven’t read what hops they use, but a mild guess would be the Northern Brewers that go into their Steam. Not sure at all. Thank goodness it has that raisiny quality that pushes through, or I wouldn’t be inclined to drink much of this. What do you think?

BOAK & BAILEY
More hops? We were just thinking that we could hardly taste any…

We’re getting mild coffee aroma. Looks great, with a rocky head that lasts.

Creamy coffee flavours, which coat the mouth. Milky aftertaste, with hints of roastiness. Really not getting a lot of hops.

Certainly one we’d drink again, but we prefer Fullers London Porter hands down.

Mind you, given the difference in travel time for us for these beers, it’s not surprising if we get different flavours!

WILSON
I don’t know. Something about how everything melds. I don’t like the mouthfeel as I do others. There’s that raisin bit, and some coffee (but not French roast) and some like cocoa powder. All things I like. But the finish seems now almost tinny to me, and I’m attributing it to the minty character of those hops. Of course I could be wrong about that. Whatever it is, I think it’s more in the finish than anywhere else. Looks great, though, with excellent head retention. Like you said, we’re drinking different beers, both travel time and possibly batches.

BOAK & BAILEY
Yes, the finish is a bit weak. We’re not huge snobs about bottle conditioning, but more and more we find ourselves thinking that a good beer would be *great* if it was bottle conditioned. Anchor Porter tastes a little fizzy, a little dead, and would undoubtedly benefit from being bottle (or even cask) conditioned.

It’s funny that you found it easier to get Adnams bitter than we did, given that it’s brewed a train ride from London. Who drinks British beers where you live? The people drinking American beers over here are mostly those who will drink anything as long as its imported, and beer geeks like us. The mainstream British ale drinker is still a bit suspicious of American beer.

Oh, and what was the Adnams bitter like?

WILSON
Glad we figured that out. I didn’t mean to say that I thought it was a hoppy beer. I wonder what they mean on the neck label, then, where it says “entirely natural carbonation.” Naturally, a guy goes over and turns on the CO2? This conversation would have been easier if we’d been sitting side-by-side, huh?

Beer geeks have a good appreciation of British beers, but since they carry more of a balance hallmark, English beers don’t get the “wow factor” that Belgians and American double IPAs have. Yuppies drink Newcastle so they look cool to their friends. Or Stella or Heineken. But there’s progress. I’ve watched yuppies go to beer festivals and get turned on and amazed by a milk stout.

As for the bitter, I found it a bit perplexing in that the flavor didn’t match the fruity aroma initially. As it warmed, the fruitiness gave way to caramel mixed with the hops. The flavor had some caramel nuances with earthy hops. Some mineral character. dries out in the finish. Don’t think I mentioned a subtle warming in the Broadside, but obviously that’s not in this beer. Tasty. I’d drink them both again. Liked the Broadside a little more. That bitter would be great with grilled vegetables.

BOAK & BAILEY
We’re going to have to call it a night, I’m afraid - it’s a school night!

All the best - it’s been fun!

WILSON
A night it is.

Peace and pints.

PS–My son Tom wants to know if you guys know Mr. Bean…?

__________

Check out Boak and Bailey’s post on our shared pints here.

Grandma Beach’s idea of cough syrup

I’ve been dodging my boys’ bullets for the last week, but finally I’ve succumbed to a cold.

I’ve got all this beer lying around; how could I not have something with a cure involved? So I’ve got my wife’s great-grandma in mind today. Here’s her recipe for cough syrup. I take it like NyQuil, and sleep well. I need to get a batch going.

Grandma Beach’s Cough Syrup

1 part lemon juice

1 part honey

1 part “good” whiskey

This stuff is amazing when it ages for a couple of years. But I only take it medicinally.

Pub crawl in beer portraits

This weekend we converged on Des Moines for a bit of a crawl. Dinner at Court Avenue Restaurant and Brewing Company, and beers at El Bait Shop and The Red Monk. My aunt and uncle, and boys, were there for the chow, but the real fun came when Wonderful Beer Wife Michelle, Cousin Matt, Cousin-in-law Mandie, Bro Joe and I took to the streets (on foot) for a few more beers.

This was the first occasion I’ve had a chance to sample all of Court Avenue’s beers, and while I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions, I have made a New Beer’s Resolution: I’m not doing these samplers any more. I don’t want to waste stamina, enjoyment and beer on the brewpub light lager, brewpub raspberry beer and often one or two other lackluster offerings, in this case the pale ale. I enjoyed the IPA and stout, and the sip or two I snagged from Michelle’s cask stout (not part of the sampler dealio). However, I’ll tell you right now that I will break this little self-imposed restriction if ever I get to the source of Russian River or The Lost Abbey, and probably a few others. The food was pretty good, though I just went for fish ‘n chips.

Outside of the Court Avenue lineup, I’m recalling Old Capitol Brew Works’ stout and bock (the stout was the better of the two), Cantillon Rose de Gambrinus, Unibroue Maudite, Orkney Skullsplitter and St. Bernardus 12. Some of those were shared bottles, I should add, as explanation as to how my skull didn’t get split and how I was able to judge at the IBU Open the next day.

At one point, I embarrassed Michelle, so I should take a moment to apologize. Since I was judging the next day, I had a little mini flashlight in my pocket. And since the bock I was drinking seemed quite dark, I pulled out the flashlight and looked it over. You’da thought I’d jumped on the table and peed my name on the wall or something. It wasn’t a horrible infraction, but fine, beer-geek-out-of-line. I’m sorry.

Oh, yeah, and I took a picture of someone I didn’t know. You had to be there. It was completely fine and appropriate, even though it was a female. But apparently I shouldn’t have done that either. Just trying to have fun. Sorry for that, too.

Anyway, what about those Beer Portraits?

Thirsty Thursday–Summit’s Great Northern Porter

Because it’s cold and northern-like, I figured on a beer from a land both cold and Northern for today.

If you’re from a Southern location, you just can’t relate to what is happening in my neck of the woods. Unlike many around here, I’m not complaining. Snow and a better version of cold is one of the reasons I returned to these parts. Here’s what the weather’s been like: snow, cold, snow, melting mud, cold, snow, snow, some warming, then cold. After yet another whitening early this week (which followed two days that reached the 50s and 60s), we’re in a meltingish phase.

For the last two days, the County hasn’t allowed the school buses on the gravel roads, so we have to cart the boys a couple miles to pavement in the morning and pick them up in the afternoon. While our road isn’t as rutted as some, my Jeep is a muddy mess. Last week I picked up some equipment in Des Moines and one of the guys helping me load was all: “Dude, you been out four-wheelin’?”

“Uh, sorta. Just daily life stuff. Getting a gallon of milk. Coming home from work. It’s where/how I live.”

This winter is all my fault. I asked God for it, and He gave it to all of us. Sorry. Next year won’t be this bad. It’s just that I’ve been away for so long. This one had to be a good one. Or a bad one. Depending on how you look at it. I’m enjoying it. But it’s getting old, I’ll admit.

So, anyway, a beer from up North: Summit Brewing Company’s Great Northern Porter, from St. Paul, Minnesota. Lotsa roasty goodness here. I had this beer on tap once, served way too cold. It was the last beer before heading off to a concert and we decided we were a bit short on time. I had to just drink it. It was good, but hadn’t warmed enough to really bring out the flavors. I drank it in a situation that was unopinionformable, if you don’t mind me making up words.

This time I’m at leisure. I could stick this in the microwave if I wanted. I’ve done it before. But no. Just let it hit its stride. Ahh. There it is. Roasty, almost a touch acrid, but just a suggestion. Tasty. Their website mentions a lightness of body and I won’t disagree with that. I wouldn’t care if they mashed it four degrees higher, but then I wouldn’t care if they didn’t.

Nice. Check it out if you get a chance.

Beer and The Hays Code

Here I go again. Taking something that has nothing to do with beer and, well, turning it into a big beer thing.

With a little more time on my hands, or simply a stronger level of determination, I’m sure I could turn this one into a lengthy series. I’ve decided to spare you that and just throw it out for this week’s rumination piece.

So I’ve been grooving on DVDs of HBO’s Deadwood recently. On the special features for the first season, I learned that not only did I intensely admire the show, but I also much revered the creator, the genius David Milch.

This freakin’ dude is brilliant. He’s well-read, meticulous and amazing. The show, as you may know, is fairly intense: a healthy dose of whoring, killing and cursing. It’s not exactly historically accurate (and doesn’t claim to be), but neither was Shakespeare. Pretty far removed from the squeaky clean Roy Rogers cowboy stuff. In an interview, Milch discusses the Hays Code of 1930, which basically laid out the dos and don’ts of film making back in the day.

Back when everything was sugar coated:

General Principles

1. No picture shall be produced that will lower the moral standards of those who see it. Hence the sympathy of the audience should never be thrown to the side of crime, wrongdoing, evil or sin.

2. Correct standards of life, subject only to the requirements of drama and entertainment, shall be presented.

3. Law, natural or human, shall not be ridiculed, nor shall sympathy be created for its violation.

It goes on to lay out a good many particular applications. Basically, don’t film murders like Quentin Tarantino would, don’t cuss like the Simpsons, and go easy on the scenes of passion. And a lot more prudish stuff: always treat the flag with respect, no white slavery, no films about priests fondling alter boys.

So how do we eventually get from something shiny like Hopalong Cassidy to something gritty like Deadwood? And what happened in the interim?

First, the latter question, from Milch: “It’s my experience that a good storyteller can find a way to internalize and neutralize the pernicious effect of those kinds of extraneous, controlling statutes or strictures by finding equivalents within the story that obey the terms that are laid out by the Code without doing violence to the emotional integrity of the character of the story. So if characters can’t say anything obscene, you try and conceive a character for whom obscenity is a kind of fallen or pathetic expression of weakness. I believe that was the source of the development of the laconic cowboy. A man of few words, but deep and complicated morality, who didn’t have to fuck with the Hays Code.”

So what happened in the interim was that Clint Eastwood didn’t talk much while kicking ass in non-gruesome ways.

Now the former. How do we get here? Thoreau once wrote: “It is not too soon for an honest man to rebel.” We got here via rebels, some honest and some not. We got here by people questioning The Hays Code. Lifting a one-finger salute to our sorry governmental policies on ____________ and ____________ and ____________. Learning about culture, history, art and science and turning it into craft beer.

Three chords and the truth.

Lest you think that wasn’t a good enough pondering of beer getting better, let’s take one more peek at the Code. Point Number Four says:

The use of liquor in American life, when not required by the plot or for proper characterization, will not be shown.

There they go, characterizing evil. Bad beer emerged from this mentality. All the good parts of beer washed away. Flavorless swill became prevalent, and then to backfire seriously, the macro-brew barons got into the ideas of sex and partying to sell their products.

But please drink responsibly, they now warn.

Me, I’ll take good beer with good character. I’ll take it in moderation with my good friends close at hand. I won’t be whoring, killing or cursing much. Despite someone else’s list of strictures.

I like the dirty truth of John Lee Hooker. I like the dirty truth of the brewer’s sweaty brow. I like the dirty truth of Milch’s Deadwood. And hoist a pint all too frequently to the rebellious attitude that is craft beer and its uprising against the results of The Hays Code and other dumb ass attitudes.

Hang out in brewvana this weekend

You don’t have to win a contest or anything!

I don’t know if any brewvana readers will be around Des Moines this weekend, but I will. If you wanna get together for a beer, shoot me an email–jwmongrel [AT] yahoo [DOT] com.

We’ll be hitting Court Avenue Restaurant and Brewing Company on Friday evening for dinner and beers. After that, El Bait Shop. And for a nightcap, The Red Monk. I have no intention of getting loopy, as I need to be fit to judge at the IBU Open on Saturday. Still, I want to check out those three places and would love to meet some of you. If you’re going to be at the competition, let me know.

Lessee…Friday, I’ll be wearing my new Flogging Molly shirt (pre-ordered their new album, which arrived today!), and Saturday, something beery, like everyone else. Uh, how about North Carolina beery? Yep, that’ll be me.

Shine on, you crazy diamonds,

Wilson

Pain in my eis

For the sake of transparency, I thought I’d share my eis bock experience with you. Lest you get the idea that everything is always peachy in brewvana, that I’m an amazing, faultless brewer.

I could project that if I wanted, you know. But there’s no room for BS in brewvana.

So, with great expectations, I took a keg of my For Those About To Bock outside on a cold February night. The plan was to eis half of this ten gallon batch in a snow bank. Every so often, I’d check on it, shaking it gently to listen for the ice crystals to crash against the side of the keg. All too often, the assessment was not yet, and I don’t hear anything.

Day broke, and it wasn’t ready. I moved it to the north side of the house, to keep it clear of any sunny undoing of progress. That day, it warmed to just above freezing. Progress halted. In the afternoon, the temperature began dropping quickly. Hope returned. I checked, and I checked. Not yet.

Finally, it was around 8pm. I needed to deal with this. I wasn’t going to stay up all night after my frequent alarm-induced wake-and-checks from the night before. I was tired. So I brought the keg inside and set up to rack to another keg. There was a fair amount of slush visible. I cranked up the CO2 to push the beer to my second keg. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I worried that it had frozen solid on the bottom. I reversed the posts, so I could try blasting my impediment with CO2 in through the out door. A slow dribble. I stopped and grabbed a taster to grab a sample. Then, nothing.

CRAP!

By this time I was truly annoyed. Think! Think! I decided to take a warm water bath and try to melt whatever was causing the problem. Nothing yet. Nothing yet. I looked to my right.

CRAP!

At some point in all my switchings, changings, goofings and screwing aroundings, I lost track of whether or not the gas was on. I turned it on. It flowed like a raging river, with no rocks, logs or ice blocking its path. In the end, I didn’t really pull off much ice. More of a Really Cold Bock than an Eis Bock.

Good, but not eis. Oh, well. No sense in moaning. The lager rhythms complete, this beer is now on tap. Right tasty and a respectable first go at a lager.

Just not eis.

Thirsty Thursday–happy day

It’s a great day for a guy like me. At 5 pm, I showed up for the city council meeting. I wore my sweet Irish hat to look all sophisticated and whatnot. That was canceled out by the part about me having holes in my paint-speckled pants–I’d forgotten my change of clothes in my rush to get to work on my building.

I put my hat on my holey knee and sat with good posture and a gentle smile as the mayor worked his way through the agenda. Finally, it was my turn. And the good news is…

They approved my liquor license!

There is no bad news.

A bloody good day for a beer loving guy like me. I’m not sure if my mom will be proud, but I’m sure she’ll not be surprised that this is where my life has landed. Of course, all the way home, I contemplate the appropriate celebration beer. Something big. Something bad.

No. Something everyday awesome. I love porter. That would be perfect.

To the fridge I went. Since the only homebrew I have in 22-ounce bombers these days is my porter, I didn’t take the time to label them with the all-important “P,” which denotes to me the bottle’s contents. I just grabbed a bomber.

I forgot that Jimmy left a beer behind last time he was here. It was a bomber. It wasn’t a porter. I noticed when it poured an odd, but lovely orangey-amber. I noticed when it didn’t smell so roasty. I noticed when it didn’t taste all choco-roast-a-coffee-licious.

Obviously, I’m a talented beer drinker. Certified judge, even.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a porter. A gift from a friend made it a brewvana moment. Thanks for the beer, Jimmy. It was perfect today.

Short, sweet and wise

“Wisdom is made up of ten parts, nine of which are silence–the tenth, brevity.”

-Unknown

After waiting and dealing with numerous delays, we closed on our building last Friday, and all my minutes, spare and otherwise, have been devoted to transforming it into the Electric Burrito. Come and see us if you’re ever in our neck of the woods. We’ll have good beer.

If my posts become sparse, you’ll know why, though I remain committed to brewvana. I end then, briefly, with one wise thought:

Beer is good.