Krausen Rising

So sad, my last brew day was September 25th of last year. I made a saison. I wrote about it. At the time, I’d just bottled, and I was worried that it wouldn’t carbonate. That turned out not to be a problem. The problem, and this one is particularly tragic, is that the recipe called for spices, and I really should have used them. I’ve popped a few since I bottled them, and there’s a slightly too honeylike maltiness that I don’t like. I was hoping it was a problem with attenuation, and that once the bottles were fully carbonated, the flavor would go away, but I’m not so sure now.

I’d never noticed that honey malt flavor in saisons before, but one of the double-edged benefits about homebrewing for me is the tasting experience I gain from my mistakes. Since I’m an autodidactic brewer, I make weird recipe altering choices, or I brew under less than optimal circumstances - uncontrolled fermentation temperature, poor sparge efficiency due to equipment and user malfunction, untested hop strain additions because I buy what’s available - and due to these variables, I often end up with unbalanced beer. I’ve made IPAs so grapefruity they seemed like beer cocktails*, learned first-hand about oxidation after allowing my fermentation temperature to hit 92+ degrees F, uh… I forget what else. I don’t really want to dwell. But after each of these experiments, failed or otherwise (my first partial mash, a poorly sparged, super low gravity wit, was awesome), I suddenly find myself able to pick out small amounts of flavors I previously hadn’t noticed. I’m pretty good at tasting oxidation in beers, for instance, and after my grapefruit IPA, I can’t handle certain hoppy beers with that fruit’s trademark sharp citrus flavor that I used to dig (Green Flash’s Le Freak is one example). So now that I underspice my saison, I’ve found a malt flavor I don’t particularly like when it is too prominent - this honey thing. It would work under different circumstances, I’m sure, but it’s not working in my saison.

But what makes this saison, and my knee-jerk spice stinginess in the brewing of it, so tragic is this: tonight, before pouring myself a small glass from the ole tap-a-draft in the fridge, I first ground a tiny bit of black pepper and one single coriander seed and sprinkled them in a freshly rinsed glass, swirled it around a bit, then removed the obvious chunks. I sniffed the glass to be sure I could smell a bit of spice, then poured about six ounces of the saison in there. It was great. I loved it. The black pepper and coriander balanced out the overly malty flavors and brought out the character of the yeast perfectly. Motherfucker. This is, however, great incentive to brew another batch, and soon.

* I’ve heard that complaint about West Coast IPAs before - “Eww! It tastes like I’m drinking grapefruit juice!” Yeah, well, you should try my IPA (brew #07 - I still have a few bottles left) before you shoot your mouth off about unbalanced commercial IPAs. My fuckup makes those beers seem balanced.

We went to Triple Rock last Wednesday to see Brian Yaeger talk about and read from his book, Red, White, and Brew. There, I first discovered that I’m suddenly really into Triple Rock’s Stonehenge Stout, an export stout at about 7% ABV. I left behind stouts (other than massive Imperial Stouts, the siren call of which sometimes lure me away from the safe seas of Reason onto the dehydrated rocks of Massive Headache) a while ago, on to hoppier or belgianier beers, but lately I’ve found a couple great ones. Firestone Walker’s is the other, in case you’re curious. So, yeah, I had that, and Jen grabbed herself a Kolsch. Jen was on camera duty, and is not a shirker. Here are our beers:
   

Yaeger was there with representatives from one of the P* bookstores (Pegasus or Pendragon, I forget which). It was a good talk. I’d heard a bit about his book at the Beer Chef’s Schooners dinner, and I’d thought his choice of breweries to check out was strange - mostly not the big and/or weirdstuff popular with us kids (Russian River, Port, Bear Republic, and Allagash, to name a few). After hearing him speak for a few minutes about his choices, the book started sounding more interesting (and nerdy). I didn’t take any notes, so anything I say here is hazed up from the stout and over a week spent fermenting in my brain, so take it with a grain of salt, but it seems to me Yaeger is documenting the rise of… real? craft? beer in the US as it grew up in the wastelands created by Prohibition. Some are small breweries that toughed out Prohibition making soda or even opening creameries on the side, and some are breweries that sprang up in the aftermath of Carter’s legalization of homebrewing. And of course there’s Anchor. This is the kind of history it’s good to have on the books, a reminder of the grim days of the light beer wars to keep us humble and stoked to be living in times of plenty.

He read from the book, a chapter about a brewer in Bisbee, a strategic chapter to read for sales - it’s got coccaine, federal prison, drunk driving, corrupt cops… with a murder and John Goodman, it’d be a decent Coen Brothers movie.

So, Yaeger talked for a while, there was the dreaded post-reading Q&A, I bought a book, and Jen, being a good fangirl from way back when, got the book signed for me. Now I have to get going to The Trappist to try some Guido (a tribute to New Jersey?), about which I will hopefully post within the week.

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Brewery: Fantome
Type: Noel
ABV: 10%
Quaff date: 3/31/2009
Poured at: Casa Muerte
Drunk from: Tulip Glass

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Another special beer, but for some reason, I left out the special lighting this time. Who knows, we’re still way back in March, over a month ago. This beer was purchased for me by Jen as a Solstice gift. I waited and waited for an appropriately special moment to open the beer, then one day, I could just feel it - the special moment had arrived.

I’ve heard rumors of Fantome having problems with bottle consistency - low carbonation or weird flavors (which may or may not be due to whatever whim struck the brewer on brew-day). This opened with a distinct, relieving “pop!” Rather than a lack of carbonation, this one gushed a big. I started pouring quickly but gently, so as to retain as much of this most special of beers as possible. It poured a cloudy brown, with the head dissipating quickly, but a steady stream of bubbles continuing to rise from the glass. It smelled salty. Is that possible? Must be. Also, tamari (a flavor D-Mo first pointed out to me in dark beers). Also some cloves. I don’t usually notice cloves, so I got to mark that one off, my version of birding. My first impression upon finally getting a good guzzle in was black pepper. Spicy (I added in my notes, parenthetically, “seriously spicy”). Also dry and figgy. Figs I’m used to from all the strong, dark Belgian beers I love drinking. But now I”m looking back at my notes wondering, where did that clove go?

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Brewery: Jolly Pumpkin
Type: Whit
ABV: 4.8%
Quaff date: 3/28/2009
Poured at: Casa Muerte
Drunk from:

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Okay, now here’s a special beer. And I futzed with the lighting and everything, too, just to highlight how special this beer is. This blog is turning deluxe rather quickly.

Straw yellow, a bit cloudy, with a tight, white head. The aroma is citric and tart, with a small but obvious amount of brett (the horsey type - sorry for the half-assed link) tossed in. I expected more wildness from the smell, but this beer is dry, lemony, and refreshing, with a hint of brett always there to remind you of the barrel aging, and a subtle spiciness from noble hops (or some close relative of hop nobility). I love this beer.

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Brewery: Brouwerij Van Steenberge N.V (says BA)
Type: Flemish Sour Ale
ABV: 5.5% (again, according to BA)
Quaff date: 3/27/2009
Poured at: Casa Muerte
Drunk from: n/a

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Poured a deep ruby red; big head with loose bubbles. Smells of sugar and sour cherries - reminds me of cherry lifesavers (to be trashy about it). Sweet, a little tart - refreshing, maybe too much so - it goes down awful quick and then there’s no more. Not the most complex sour beer I’ve ever had, definitely good for someone who hasn’t tried a sour before.

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Brewery: Moylan’s
Type: Spiced Winter Lager
ABV: 6.0%
Quaff date: 3/23/2009
Poured at: Casa Muerte
Drunk from: Pint Glass

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Slightly cloudy, golden/wheat color with a tight, white head. The nose is chock full of orange, to the exclusion of all else. Same goes for flavor - loads of orange, with some wheat tang and a little yeast spiciness (or maybe just plain spiciness) - black pepper. The spices make themselves known as a tannic bite at the back of the palate. Or maybe that’s tannins from the grain. Seemed like spice to me at the time.

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Brewery: Lagunitas
Type: Pale Ale
ABV: 6.4% (according to BA
Quaff date: 03/15/09
Poured at: Casa Muerte
Drunk from: Pint Glass

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Here’s one from mid-March. Half a season ago. Is it irresponsible to post a review from a beer drunk so long ago? I’ve had a few more since then, even. My take on reviewing from month-and-a-half old notes: this past Tuesday I was at The Trappist, to noone’s surprise. They had a bottle special - Kapittel ABT - that intrigued me. I thought, Hmm, I bet that’s a nice dark one, like St. Bernardus 12. I asked Ray about it - if he’d had it, how the bottles were. He looked at me sort of sideways, like something wasn’t right. Turns out, he was pretty sure he’d had it once before, shared from a bottle I bought. Hmm… didn’t sound right. I had no memory of the whole thing. So I bought one, Ray poured it. Whoah - looks like a strong blonde. “I didn’t think it would be so light,” I said. “That’s exactly what you said last time.” So that was probably me, happily tasting a brand new beer then promptly forgetting about it. It’s the drinking - every time I’m trying something new at The Trappist, I’m drinking. And that makes it all blur together. So I’m trying to keep track of what I’ve had, what I’ve thought of it, and then how my preference/taste has changed since the first time. Very narcissistic.

Lagunitas Pale, I used to think, was pretty boring. Loved the IPA (my intro to super hopped beer), but I remember the pale being… shit, I don’t really remember it. Then Lagunitas changed the recipe a year or two back, and suddenly it’s a great pale, with enough hop bitterness to delight, but bordering on great with the delicious hop flavor and aroma. So here are my notes on it:

Pours golden with a thick, white, quickly dissipating head (they all dissipate quickly in my glassware, it seems). A sweet malt and hop aroma. Bitter, delicious hop flavor, seems like Centennial or Columbus to me (those hops that make Pliny taste a little earthy and basil-ish). The malt’s a bit subdued behind the hops at first, but comes out as the beer warms, a nice cereal/grain flavor. Jen would say it’s a session beer for alcoholics.

I fear this announcement mocks me.

You can click the image to see the full text.

Allagash’s experiments with spontaneous fermentation are very exciting. I’ve been developing a theory that a lack of lambic brewers and blenders in this country, a lack of quality domestic geuze, is what led to the horrors of this century so far. Allagash and Russian River could be our only hopes.

And so, also, of course, I WANTS!

Oh hey, wait a minute. I got a little too excited a little too quickly. This is more like Consecration than Oude Krieke Vieille. Okay, that’s a relief. The world isn’t ending, I guess. Still, sounds like a great beer.

I was surprised to find a beer-related event in my Pegasus/Pendragon events mailing:

Brian Yaeger, author of Red, White and Blue
Wednesday, May 13th, 7:30 pm
Location: Triple Rock Brewery, 1920 Shattuck Ave, Berkeley, CA 94704
Brian Yaeger’s new book, Red, White, and Brew is the ultimate beer run, visiting fourteen breweries across the US. Come enjoy some locally brewed beer while hearing about Yaeger’s travels. This is an off-site event.

I was there Friday and Saturday both (work lunch, and post-pants-shopping lunch, respectively). The Rose Nose Whit is worth trying - not nearly as flowery as it sounds, and about the cloudiest whit I’ve ever had (a good thing) - and the Stonehenge Stout was particularly awesome on Saturday - roasty, creamy, stout as all get out. More on Yaeger and his deal at his website or online journal.

I missed the previous Session, which was about smoked beers. I love smoked beers, but just didn’t feel the need to write about them last month. This time I’ll give it a go. Today’s session is kindly hosted by Beer at Joe’s.

I don’t care much for the original beer cocktails I had - black and tan, snakebite…. I think that’s it. Admittedly, I was fascinated for a while by the separation between stout and (lighter colored ale) in a black and tan, but then I found out people get all edgy about it if you order it in the wrong place, and anyway I don’t drink Guiness or Bass much nowadays. I also feel a beer cocktail should be more than two beers mixed together (or a beer and a cider). That’s a blend of two beers, not a beer cocktail. I once tried blending a Young’s Double Chocolate Stout and a Lindeman’s Framboise (being easily influenced and highly malleable, I’d read about that combination on a beer blog and it intrigued me). It was a syrupy mess that may have been awesome on top of some ice cream. I still drank the contents of both bottles, but I had to down a bit of water to get through them. Another of those drinks for 10 year olds.

I’ve always been an extremely half-assed purist about things I like. I enjoy pure, traditional versions of food, entertainment, drinks, and all that, except when I find something non-traditional that I like. Maybe it’s the raised-amongst-puritans thing that makes me want to adamantly condemn what I haven’t experienced. Then I guess it’s whatever got me out of Puritania that makes me try it anyway.

I don’t know how long radlers have existed - they could be an ancient tradition for all I know. Oh wait, now that I’ve read the content at the other end of that link, it looks like they’ve been around since the 1920s. Quite a bit older than me. But is that long enough for the purist? I have no idea. Speisekammer in Alameda has them. Jen tried one once, back before The Trappist had turned her on to wit beers and eventually corrupted her to the point where she can enjoy pilseners, the occasional blonde, and at least appreciate tripels. The radler at Speisekammer is made with some lemony soda, and is delicious, light and refreshing, if you drink it quick. The malt and lemon blend together perfectly until it cools off, then the sugary soda pop is more obvious, and even though the malt is, as well, it doesn’t quite work warmed up.

My other favorite beer cocktail is the michelada. That one is my favorite, actually. The radler is just something I like the idea of, but I almost always prefer a straight beer. Sometimes, though, you’ve got a case or so of light lager, preferably Mexican lager like Pacifico or Modelo Especial (both a half step above US macrobrews). And with me, if that’s the case, I’m usually in a situation where I’m hungover, if not at the beginning of my Pacifico drinking, then within 12 hours or so of the session’s beginning. At that point, half a (fresh, squeezed) lime per beer, with a couple splashes of hot sauce (I recommend Valentina) and a bit of salt around the rim makes for a passable hangover cure, or at least a slow rise back up into buzz-dom and away from headaches. Though not absolutely essential, a nice-sized serving of ceviche with some tostadas, some more limes, and a fresh avocado or two, can’t hurt. If you’re in Oakland, try Mariscos La Costa. Hell yeah.