Stone 09.09.09

I had been looking for this year’s Stone Vertical Epic — the 09.09.09 — since, well, September 9th. Unlike last year’s (08.08.08 if you’re bad at seeing patterns), I hadn’t been able to find it until today, though in Stone’s defense I don’t go to beer stores all that often. And remember how I was surprised that the 07s were still around last year? Yeah, they’re still around. A dollar more than the 09s (with the 08s halfway in between), but still around.

I bought three bottles of the 09: one to drink now, one to drink in a while and one in a vertical tasting after the 12.12.12 is out. It pours black with a tan head, not letting any light in even when held to light, though the legs are brown (with no ruby to be found). I initially thought it smelled fairly bready, which may have been from the yeast or may have been me mistaking the chocolate aroma for bread (yeah, I don’t know why I’d confuse the two either). I also got some dark sweetness; not fruity, but not brown sugar either. There was no hop aroma, which considering my last visit to Stone’s beers was a bit of a surprise.

Once I tasted it, I got many of the same sensations in tongue form: chocolatey, warming with some bitterness. Not hoppy, though: more like dark chocolate. There was also an intangible sensation of the beer being unrefined, needing to cellar more. As it stands I’d like to think I could brew a better beer myself, which isn’t something I want to say of a bottle I paid $8 for.

I read the bottle after my initial blind tasting and found that yes, chocolate plays a big role this year. They also claim that tangerine peels and vanilla are present, though I don’t really get them at all. It does taste slightly like one of those chocolate oranges you get to give a satisfying smack on the table to break apart, but I stand by my assertion that this needs time to age. Frankly, being in ‘oh shit there’s a baby on the way don’t spend any money’ mode, I regret spending the ~$30 on these. With any luck. I’ll revisit the beer in 2011 or 2012 and be much more impressed.

(And lest you think I’m vehemently anti-Stone: between this, the 13th Anniversary and Greg Koch’s anti-adjunct propaganda, yeah I’m not exactly their biggest fan. But I also picked up their Cali-Belgique IPA and quite liked it.)

On adjuncts

It’s a long-held belief in the craft beer community that corn and rice are evil and are part of the Macro Brewers’ master plot towards mind control and world domination. ‘Corn’ and ‘Cortex’ do share a suspiciously high number of letters, after all.

The thing is, that isn’t, uh, true. Oh, corn and rice do play a big part in macro lagers, and they are to lighten the body and add alcohol without contributing too much flavor, but August Busch IV isn’t sitting in a dimly lit room wearing an eyepatch and rubbing his hands together, one of which has been replaced with a hook. Though if he were, and that was on the bottle, I’d buy a hell of a lot more Budweiser (more being > my current ‘zero’).

But I digress. Thankfully, the craft community as of late has also had its share of realists, at least in part due to Maureen Ogle’s Ambitious Brew, which I’ll hopefully get to writing about here sometime soon. You know, the people who say ‘You can’t make a Classic American Pilsner without corn’ and ‘Those adjuncts originally cost more than barley, and were used to better the beer.’ But then came the Greg Koch-led I Am A Craft Brewer, which seemed oddly propagandic to me and touted the same anti-adjunct spiel (though my concerns didn’t stop me from appearing in the homebrew version, being that I’m an attention whore).

This was all to bring up an article in the LA Times about craft brewers increasingly using rice in beer, which basically says ‘People thought it sucked, and now some of them don’t.’ Greg Koch is called out for the ‘I don’t put rice in my beer’ segment; he responded via Twitter: ‘IMO, it’s far less about WHAT you use & far more about HOW you use it.’ To me, that’s pretty much the opposite of what he said and had others say in IAACB (another interesting tidbit in the article: Patrick Rue, of soon-to-be-video-reviewed-on-BOV The Bruery, changed the line but wasn’t included in the final cut, which seems damning but shouldn’t be construed — ha, Rue — as anything malicious).

I think brewers needed to have some time away from corn, rice and sugars, like a semester abroad to find out who they were outside of their relationship with adjuncts. Some pretty bad beer is made with them, sure, but that doesn’t extrapolate into all beer. Hell, within the next week you’ll be regaled with the conception of NAH’s Beer of Myst’ree, which thanks to a certain other writer of this blog contains a pound of corn. ONOES, as they say. (picture unrelated but it amused me)

So, in conclusion, the Wheel of Snobbery has come round full circle and it’s now acceptable to look down upon people who look down upon drinkers of light American lager.

What’s new with Flying Bison?

We stopped by the Flying Bison booth at the Buffalo Brewfest to see what they’ve got going on now and also what they have planned for the future. Along with Tim Herzog, this video proves one thing conclusively: Flying Bison has rocking facial hair.

BOV Book Club: Fermenting Revolution

I went into Fermenting Revolution (Christopher Mark O’Brien, 2006, 288 pp) with fairly high hopes. I like beer! I’m fairly fond of the planet. If I can indulge my wannabe hippie ways and have an excuse to buy and drink beer, well, that’s about as good as it gets.

Unfortunately, I finished the book and didn’t really come away with anything new. He has essentially three main points:

• Beer is awesome
• Local is better
• Big corporations care more about profits than the environment or quality of their product, which isn’t true of smaller brewers

I’m not saying any of those are wrong. It’s just that, well, I knew that going in. It’s why I bought the book. There seems to be a catch 22 involved in that the only people who care about his message are already converted, which was a similar complaint (among others) I had with Fahrenheit 9/11 (except Fermenting Revolution contains less references to books about pet goats).

The book starts with a history of beer, but I think O’Brien gets carried away in his enthusiasm because most of it comes off as unsubstantiated cheerleading. I like beer as much as — actually, who are we kidding? Far more than — the next guy, but I don’t need to make every event in the history of humanity about beer. He claims that early humans started settling down in agrarian societies so that they could grow barley for beer, which is an interesting interpretation that may be true but which is harmed by much of the rest of his history, which seems to fall victim to ‘if you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail.’ What really got me was the assertion that George Washington harvested ice to bring back to Mt Vernon to cool his beer. I know the founding fathers liked beer, and some even brewed their own, but are you really trying to tell me that beer is the only reason people needed ice in the late 18th century?

There’s also a lot of the standard craft beer lover rhetoric about how the evil corporations removed the soul of beer which is only now being restored by the Kochs and Cagliones and Cilurzos (Cilurzi?) of the country. It’s the kind of stuff that makes you feel good about drinking beer, and much of the talk about the history and tradition of our favorite beverage made me feel this odd, almost religious notion which I’ve begun to call ‘communing with beer,’ which I experienced  in Chicago.

There was some good material towards the end regarding the health benefits of alcohol and beer in general (in moderation: he cites studies that show that overconsumption raises the risks that moderate consumption lowers), and while scientists have a habit of contradicting each other every five to 10 years (are eggs good or bad for you today?) it’s still good to know that there are those who think that a daily drink has medicinal benefits. One report mentioned says that it’s not the amount that you consume that matters but rather the regularity, so a beer a day is better than two every other, which has led me to try to always fit in a beer somewhere in my routine (a chore, to be sure).

One thing that has to be said, though: Dude. The puns. They have to stop. Globeerization. Beerrevolution. Don’t think the italics are mine, either. I generally like plays on words, but there are so many and they are so constant that they began to set my teeth on edge. The books is about beer. We get it. Now please stop before God kills another kitten.

Don’t get me wrong: there’s nothing offensive in Fermenting Revolution. There just isn’t too much that people reading this will find new or enlightening. If you hate dirty hippies talking about that global warming myth then you’ll find nothing of interest here, and if you hate evil conservatives bending mother earth over the counter then you’re already doing everything O’Brien says. If you’re in Buffalo, I’ll make it easy for you: buy Flying Bison.

Beer Adventures in Chicago, Part 7 of 7

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6]

I left Half Acre (see Part 6), a logo glass richer and full of good feelings for the beer world in general. On Doug from Metro’s (see Part 5) suggestion I went to the Rock Bottom brewpub for dinner. I gather that Rock Bottom is a franchise, with the individual brewers having some control over their flight list, and when I realized that the restaurant was literally right the hell across the street from an el stop I wondered why I hadn’t gone there before.

As I was seated I noticed that the place carried with it an air of an Applebees or other restaurant with ‘crazy crap on the wall’ (like Uncle Moe’s Family Feedbag). There were plastic cups for the kids! Rock Bottom has beer brewed on location, though, so y’know, 15 love.

I ordered what seemed to be their special release: Two: Another Mash Made in Heaven, brewed with plum juice, coriander and ‘a touch of crystal malt’ to celebrate the brewer’s second wedding anniversary. There was some dark fruit aroma, but it was semi-subtle. The fruit was evident in the taste, but it wasn’t sweet or overpowering. I didn’t really notice any hops but — and my notes must be transferred verbatim here — ‘they must be behind the scenes, providing balance in a Machiavellian-like fashion.’ It was on the sweeter side, including some lingering aftertaste, but it wasn’t cloying. I noted that if a person says they don’t like beer, have them try this. They call it a session ale, but it’s 6%; to me, 5.5 is the limit (and really, anything over 5 doesn’t need special treatment), but hey: not my brewery.

The waitress came by to take my order and noticed me scribbling illegibly on my pad. When asked, I told her I was a beer blogger, and it may have been my imagination but I was taken very well care of after that. It may have just been that I stated that I knew my stuff when it came to beer: she was more than happy to discuss pairings and so on with me. ‘God bless beer-knowledgeable wait staff,’ as I noted. Blessed are they, for they will receive greater tips.

On her suggestion I went with the American Dream IPA with my beer battered salmon and chips (it was that or what I had next). They say it’s brewed with a pound of hops per barrel in the boil, and then dry hopped with another 11 pounds a day for three days. After that, I was expecting an IPA of Stone proportions, but instead it wasn’t as bitter as I expected. It almost ended too cleanly, with not much of a bitterness at all (I know, this is funny coming from the guy who just bitched about Stone). As I told the waitress, ‘it’s not punching me repeatedly in the face’ (I think I made a slow, repeated punching motion towards my other hand. I had had a lot of beer that day). It was very citrussy, providing more hop flavor than bitterness. Which, hey, is okay with me.

At this point I noticed their upcoming beers: cask Amarillo Red, Belgian Rye IPA, Sticke Alt, Saison. Yes, yes, yes and yes please. Why do I not live in this city? Another plus: 10% off food for AHA members.

I finished the night, and my trip, with their Terminal Oatmeal Dry-Hopped Stout, which took home bronze medals at the 07 and 08 GABFs and golds at the 09 GABF/WBC. I could tell why: it was delicious. It poured with a tan head into a more Guinness-like glass, and was served perhaps too cold but had an ‘invitingly roasty’ aroma (it was my eighth beer of the day, guys; give me a break). I couldn’t really smell, and I could just barely taste, the 22 pounds of Chinook it was dry hopped with.

Apologies for the light notes at this point, but it was getting late. The waitress, whose name I really should have gotten as she was very nice, let me into the area with their fermenters, but since it was 9 pm by this point the brewer had understandably gone home for the night. I got to see the Belgian IPA bubbling away in its blowoff bucket, and I really wish I had the chance to taste it. Oh well; it’s not as though I didn’t have a ton of awesome beer on my trip!

I wasn’t able to buy any beer to bring home, since the store by my hotel was closed by the time I got there, but I’d say that I brought back enough pints glasses and notes for BOV posts to offset that. That’s a lie, by the way, because I really want some Dynamo and Over Ale and I wouldn’t say no to somebody’s daughter — er, Fat Tire. I finished the night by reading more Hops & Glory, which I finished as my plane descended back into Buffalo, which is about as fitting an end as I could imagine.

Stone’s 13th Anniversary Ale

(Yes, I really really need to shave)

When I first pour it I got some alcoholic dark malts, but primarily it’s the intense, resiny hops that Stone’s known for. The color is a dark, almost opaque red that becomes a deep, almost cough-syrup like red when held up to the light (keep in mind this is the color and not the taste). Taste is hoppy, including the napalm-like flavor from the west coast hops, but either it’s died down some (this isn’t supremely fresh, after all, though it’s by no means old: the bottle says ‘Do not cellar’) or it’s more balanced than I thought it’d be, especially considering they claim to have more hops per barrel than in any of their past beers.

I have to say: I think I’m kind of done with super hoppy beers. Not IPAs, not double IPAs, but ones that blow out your tongue because they frickin’ can. I’m not trying to claim that I have the most sophisticated palate out there (though I’m trying to improve), but I’m doing my damndest to isolate the flavors from this and all I can really say is ‘hops, with some alcohol beneath it.’ A got a hint of malty sweetness (they call this a double red) but it only managed to poke its head out for a second before being swallowed again by the riptide of C hops.

I think I need to do a vertical tasting of some of Stone’s beers, like the Arrogant Bastard, IPA, Ruination, etc. Maybe it’s not you; it’s me. And for what it sets out to do — be a super hopped, higher gravity red ale — it certainly achieves. I’m just not sure I’m their target audience.

–

Okay, after giving it some time to warm (and breathe), the hops have died down somewhat; they’re still present, but like an overenergetic kid they’ve since calmed down and are ready to play more nicely with their classmates. There’s some dark fruit that I’m getting, but there seems to be a poorly defined triangle of alcohol, hops and dark malt that shifts and blends together (and beats up on Person Man).

Buffalo Brewfest 2009

Buffalo Brewfest 2009

BeerOVision was down at the Brewfest last week– yes, I guess it’ “old news” now, but we’re not really into the whole 24-hour news thing, and besides, editing video right takes time.  Still, we had some great beers down there last week, and more than that, we found that the fest’s organizers made significant improvements over last year.  The extra space was critical and welcome, and we really liked the food options as well.  So, check out the video, see what you missed… and if you didn’t go this year based on last’ years experience, we assure you: go in ‘10.   You won’t be disappointed!

2 Beers from Nevada

Yes, we really do get beers to review… ok, well, we got these two, anyway.  You are welcome to send yours, too!  These came to us from Buckbean, a relatively new brewery (founded in 2007) out of Reno, Nevada. They produce beer in 16 oz cans which allows them be consumed in more places (and is a bit of an industry trend recently). What’s more, cans have the advantage of being fully light- and oxidation-proof, two common flaws found in bottled beers that are mishandled.  Finally, cans are somewhat more eco-friendly than bottles, in that they’re much lighter (meaning less fuel is spent moving them around,) and use less energy to recycle.   Well, these two cans found their way to Dan’s house sometime about three weeks ago, now, definitely long enough not to explode anymore.  Last week after a lovely meal, we went about drinking & reviewing them over a nice game of Carcassonne.  What follows is sort of a rough transcription of our notes & conversation.

Orange Blossom Ale: Was not nearly as sweet as Dan expected, but that’s because it’s orange *blossom* and not oranges. The aroma was sort of floral + herbal, and it may have been the combination of hops and the orange blossom but it had a smell that was almost musty; Dan’s wife compared it to the inside of the armoire that had just been delivered.  Dan liked that they’re doing something different, but ‘different’ in this case might not necessarily be ‘great.’  Ethan was able to compare it to his memory for the great-grandaddy of all “orange blossom ales,” Buffalo Bill’s, and felt that it had a lot less of the sweetness that makes BB’s such a ‘creamsicle’ experience, and agreed that the interaction of yeast and orange blossom flavors led to a distinctly ‘musty’ dimension which wasn’t entirely pleasant.  Ethan and Dan both felt that this is the sort of beer that works best in a food-context, like with a citrusy dessert, but may not be especially sessionable, and that’s of course ok:  Not every beer has to be.

Tule Duck Red Ale: Immediately hit by a hint of the same aroma as before: is it the yeast? Not as strong, so the orange blossom likely contributed, though it may also have been the travel it made from Reno to Buffalo (cans block light but don’t insulate as much from temperature swings, one of their few detriments).  Ethan thought the aroma contained dried grains of some kind; flour, perhaps? The smell that we’re attributing to the yeast is more subtle, allowing in some caramel malt with a bit of American hops, but it’s still there. Some bitterness that doesn’t seem to be entirely hop-based.  Ethan felt is was far more sessionable of a beer, and that it had a nice malt/hops balance; minus that dusty/musty dimension it was reminiscent of hometown hero Flying Bison’s Aviator Red (well, in malt & hops; it certainly lacked FB’s distinctive yeast profile.)

Summary: We’re certainly thankful to the fine folks in Reno who sent these out, it’s a very nice thing to do and we’re happy to spread the word (even if these beers aren’t likely to show up on the shelves in Buffalo anytime soon, knowing the screwey distribution scene around these parts.)  However, if you are out west, and especially if you’re looking for a brew to grip for a day-hike or a picnic, I think you’d be well-served by the Tule Duck.  Accompanying a big old bowl of vanilla ice cream, I could imagine enjoying–about half the can at most, to be fair–the Orange Blossom.  Cheers, and we wish Buckbean continued success.

You can’t buy 3 Floyds in Buffalo…

… or Russian River.  Or New Belgium.  Or Hair Of The Dog.  Or… you get the point.

Well, we here at BOV get press releases (and even, sometimes, beer to review: look for that later this week; also our review of the Buffalo Brewfest), and while I try to avoid simple, mechanical “re-tweeting,” this seemed to merit it.  Thus, I crib:

Craft beer consumers have long been frustrated with the 3-tier beer system because they can not easily influence what beer brands are offered in the market. Those days might be over as a new website called BeerPetitions.com aims to empower craft beer drinkers to organize their demands so retail establishments know what their patrons want to purchase. This simple idea could give craft breweries and distributors a competitive edge when convincing retailers to carry specific craft brands.

That right, it’s a simple, but potentially powerful idea: if there’s a beer you wish Try-It, or Certo Brothers, or T.J. Sheehan would pick up, let them know! Well, to be fair, you can (and should) probably just email them directly- you should also inform your friendly staff at Consumer’s, Premier, or The Village Beer Merchant.  But BeerPetitions.com seems to offer you yet another tool, and one that let’s you keep some track yourself of whether your favorite beer is in demand around here, too. Give it a try today, and let’s see if we can’t get, let’s say, Lost Abbey, down at the VBM in a few months!

Beer Adventures in Chicago, Part 6 of 7

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5]

As I said in Part 5, ‘outgoing’ is not a word people would generally put on a form about my personality (do people fill out forms focused on my personality? Don’t put ‘paranoid,’ because I’m not.). But I was dedicated to filling the glass that was my last day in town with beer (and also horrible, horrible metaphors), so I found a good stoop a few blocks away, sat down and called the Half Acre Beer Company.

‘Hi, I was wondering if I would be able to stop by; Doug at Metro suggested I call you.’

‘Uh…’ I could almost see the guy who answered looking around uncertainly. ‘Yeah. Sure.’

And with directions on how to get there, Ken Grossman’s NHC Keynote in my ears and a bounce in my step, I headed to Half Acre.

When I visited, there was still visible construction on the outside (though that has since been fixed). I figured that the doors probably weren’t the best entrance in, but saw a sack of grain laying by the open warehouse door. I stepped inside and saw three guys busy, well, brewing beer: in this case, emptying out spent grain into barrels to be picked up by Farmer Ben (a proper name for a farmer if I’ve ever heard one). As I received the now-familiar quizzical looks I realized I didn’t know who I talked to on the phone, and so all I could muster was ‘I called, and somebody’ — real legit, Dan — ’said I could stop by?’

This day, dear readers, reinforced what I already knew to be a capital T Truth: Brewers are the friendliest people on the planet.

I defy anyone to go more than two minutes in a brewery without a beer in your hands. If you’re a homebrewer, expect inquiries as to your experiences, because chances are it’s how they started too. And while I’m not saying everyone should expect this if they visit, they gave me a cookie. So that was pretty awesome.

I got a brief tour of the construction up front as I was led through their offices to get a glass: they’ve spent the past 10 months revamping the brewery, located in the middle of a business district, with the intention of having a tasting area/storefront. They’ve also rebuilt the second floor of the brewery, reinforcing the hell out of it to allow them to store their grain up there without it, y’know, collapsing. From there they can walk it over to the barley crusher and let gravity do the rest of the work (by comparison, Metro is about to install an auger to move grain to their mash tun, which isn’t nearly as entertaining as if they were using an augur).

The nice part about intruding on breweries that aren’t equipped for tours is that you get to see them stripped naked (metaphorically: it wasn’t that kind of party), candidly going about their work. My visit to Flying Dog was nice, but the experience seemed very streamlined. The Half Acre guys didn’t really seem to know what to do with me (which made four of us), so I essentially stood around and watched them brew a batch of their Over Ale, which was really all I could have asked for: I got to see what it’s like to have a brewery (the best part, they say? The forklift.). Copies of Designing Great Beers and Radical Brewing were on a table. The beer I drank was served from five gallon corny kegs hooked up to a jockey box (the kegs are primarily for in-house consumption, but they are equipped with Sanke fittings and do occasionally get sold). These are guys living the goddamn dream.

I was asked a few times if I was planning on opening a brewery myself. No, I said, which is about 75% ‘I’m not’ and 25% ‘I got married when I was 20 and had my masters at 23 because when I say I’ll do something eventually I do it immediately.’ Watching them work, though (I could get to drive a forklift!)… it was damn tempting. The pervasive smell of malt and hops, the skateboard with the Naked Raygun sticker on it (cue my wife’s rendition of ‘Treason’) and the unexpected responsibility of being put on kettle watch were intoxicating.

But what about the beer? I had tried their Daisy Cutter Pale Ale at the Hop Leaf, so consult Part 2 of my ramblings for my (brief) opinion. Next up was their Over Ale, which is what I was witnessing the birth of during my stay. Like Metro, they aren’t so much concerned with BJCP guidelines as they are with making good beer, and so this was a bit of a bastard, stylewise. It was dark brown, just allowing light to permeate it, and smelled primarily of hops but with a taste consisting more of a malty sweetness. I thought it was closest to a hoppy brown but they consider it an ESB made with American hops, so I’ll compromise and say that if an ESB went to college in the US and then stayed to raise a baby with the brown ale it met in its accounting class, Over Ale would be the result. Writing this now, back in Buffalo, I really wish that they distributed outside of the city limits. Like, say, to Buffalo. We’re connected by lakes! Just ship it this way. I won’t tell anyone. But I digress.

I finished with the final beer in their power trio lineup, the Half Acre Lager (they do special releases and so on, but these three are their mainstays). It was a bit of a copper color, similar to that of a pale ale perhaps (apologies: I use what my boss calls ‘the eight crayon’ color palette). It was ‘loads more malty than you’re expecting,’ according to Past Dan, but still finished crisply, with a touch of bitterness in the nose and, as you drink, increasingly in the finish.

When I arrived they were cleaning out the mash tun, and by the time I left (two and a half hours later) their day still wasn’t finished; like Metro, they’re pulling double brewdays which right now run 14 hours but which they hope to get down to 12. I noticed a can sitting on the floor with a Half Acre sticker on it and inquired about canning, which they said they’d like to get into soon. It’s a very transitional time for them, with not only the construction on the brewery but doing the brewing themselves: Half Acre was started in 2007 but was contract brewed in Wisconsin. They still contract out their bottles, but since February they’ve been in their current location, filling kegs. Right now they aren’t filtering at all, but they’ll eventually use a plate filter. And as far as distribution goes (Ha! That was a pun!), at the time of my visit it was only within the city limits, but they had plans, possibly by the time this was published, to move into the suburbs.

To drive home what an incredibly friendly group of people Half Acre is, as I was leaving I inquired as to whether it would be possible to buy one of their branded 16 oz nonic glasses. With a dismissive hand gesture I was told to keep the one I was holding. I washed it out, of course, as I didn’t want to attract any attention to myself on the el, but as I walked out of the brewery I couldn’t help but reflect on how incredibly damn lucky I was.

Next up: I finish out my trip at the Rock Bottom brewpub.