A Philosophical Question

So both of us are readers of Serious Eats, and a link came through today that I found interesting. Not interesting as in "wow, that's cool," or interesting as in "fascinating." More interesting as in "wow, this guy's full of crap."

Specifically, the blogger, Jeff, asks whether beer can be perfect. A few choice edits to tease out of the post:

• "Bill [a fellow beer judge] declared, boldly, that there's no such thing as a 50-point beer. A 49--theoretically possible. But no such beer exists that could not be improved upon."

• "If you don't believe in a perfect beer, then each sniff and sip is forensic; you're looking for the imperfection. Imperfections may be objective or purely a matter of taste. . . . I taste it meditatively. I try to see what the brewer was doing. . . . A beer must be perfect on its own terms--the realization of the brewer's highest goals."

If we may assume the best of brewers that they wouldn't send out or ship crappy product, then Jeff's relativism, in my opinion, means that every beer is perfect, since the brewer's highest goals would be to produce a beer about which he or she can be proud. And that's ridiculous. And even if we don't assume the best of brewers (imagining that they're weighing the cost of perfection against expected profit) we'd conclude that the guy who brews Firestone Walker Double Barrel Ale (or any other beer either of us isn't wild about) sent out beer he's not proud of because it's not in his economic interests to do so. Even then, if that's what the brewer's goal is, then perfect! - hooray. Somehow, I don't think Steve agrees that the DBA is perfect. But the guy who made it thinks it is. So cheers to that guy? Really?

Jeff also gets into some religious motif I'm not even going to wade into. And a commenter named "dr wort" decided to provide (copy & paste) a dictionary definition of the word "judge," as if the definition will help us wade through the argument somehow. Real helpful.

In his first post, my co-blogger put up some numerical scores for beer. I see nothing wrong with this, but I found his comments are much more compelling and informative, and ultimately, more useful than his numbers. For me, it's not about a score - it's about whether I liked the beer at the time, what I thought about it, and whether I can describe it in words. We're allowed this kind of wishy-washy descriptor: we're blogging about beer because we love it, not judging it for competition, I'll grant, but I'd much rather write a paragraph about a beer than attempt to assign a score or a grade, especially when nobody can agree on what a perfect 10 even means.

Vacation Beer Review Part 1 - California

Your West Coast correspondent has just returned from a two weeks of well deserved vacation. The first ten days or so were spent driving down the California coast, and the remainder was spent in the socialist paradise of Toronto, Ontario. Having now made the drive down the Coastal Highway I cannot recommend it highly enough. It’s definitely worth doing before shuffling off this mortal coil.

Although the focus of the California trip was on hiking and wine-tasting I did somehow manage to consume some California beer along the way. First up, the Acme Pale Ale:



I had the Pale Ale while waiting for my dinner reservation at the Big Sur Bakery. Incidentally, the food there was so delicious that the boyfriend and I headed back to the restaurant for breakfast.

The Acme Pale Ale checks in at 5% ABV and is produced by the North Coast Brewing Company. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I’d already had another one of North Coast’s beers before, the Scrimshaw, which I would recommend highly to pilsner fans. I'll definitely be checking out their other offerings soon.

As you can see from the picture, the Acme Pale Ale has a beautiful almost pumpkin or roast squash color and light foam. The nose is very mild and the beer has a great crisp taste. The Acme has a mild citrus and hop flavor to it, and it is an extremely refreshing beer after a long day of hiking (and undoubtedly extremely refreshing without the hiking as well). Highly recommended.

Our second beer is the Firestone Walker Double-Barrel Ale (DBA), 5% ABV. The DBA is produced by Firestone Walker, which is located in Pasa Robles, CA. Apparently they are the winners of Champion Brewery/Brewmaster award from the Brewers Association World Beer Cup (an event that it sounds like I simply must track down tickets to) in the mid-sized category for the past three years. The beer is an English Style Bitter/Amber Ale, and ours was poured from a bottle.



As you can see from the photo, there was virtually no head from the pour. I almost wonder whether the bottle had been mishandled in shipping or by the restaurant. The DBA had a maple color and had a strong sweet and hoppy taste which ended with a finish a wet stone. Honestly it was not my favorite beverage of the whole trip. I found the sweetness unpleasant and didn’t like the finish or the lack of carbonation. However, given Firestone’s long list of accolades I’ll probably be trying their Pale Ale soon.

Capital!

So despite my initial two posts, east coast means all of the east coast: not just New England. This correspondent just got back from DC, where he celebrated the nuptials of two lovely friends of his.

DC is a funny place. It's got a huge number of out-of-state license plates on its roads, for all who come to the capital to serve the nation and its many constituencies. And it doesn't really have a lot going for it, culinarily speaking either, except maybe for Ben's Chili Bowl. Damn, that's some good eating…

So I walk into a store, and there's Dogfish Head from Maryland, Sam Adams from Boston, even Bell's from Michigan and Kona, from Hawaii. The most local stuff - National Bohemian, isn't even from DC. So unless you know a dude who's basement brewing or are willing to chance it on some local brewpub, you're out of luck on this whole "locavores" thing.

Which isn't to say you can't find good beer: you're just not going to be drinking locally. I went out with friends to the Brickskeller, which is listed in Guinness as "the bar with the largest selection of commercially available beers." Now, that may be, but our night, at least 5 beers we ordered were unavailable. Also, if you're a wuss, they also serve Bud Light and Bud Light Lime. FYI, this was kind of a mob-review: I tried every one of these, but didn't finish all of them.

In honor of a class I took on Icelandic Saga, I tried the Viking Premium Gold, which is a very generic lager. While deeper flavored and having much more citrus than anything that's so golden really ought to have, Viking is still pretty thin. Side note: dear Vílfilfell, and all other breweries who are using plastic decals instead of easy-to-remove paper labels: cut it the hell out. I collect beer labels, and plastic decals are freaking hard to remove well. PS. dear Vílfilfell: make better beer.

Tried the Ace Cider from Sonoma, CA (sorry, Steve) but it was sour, thin, and pretty wretched overall. At least it wasn't as sweet as other hard apple ciders can get. Refreshing, but I'm just not a cider kind of guy.

Founder's Java Porter is delicious and creamy, with a lovely hint of vanilla. Hailing from Grand Rapids, Michigan, I didn't get a lot of coffee in this one. Nonetheless, a fantastic, jet black beer with real depth and smoothness.

Also up from Founders was the Cerise cherry fermented ale. This was nice, with a lovely cherry flavor that didn't taste artificial. The cherries (for which Michigan is famous) were refreshing and tart, and the fruit flavor faded out of the way into a delicious ale. If I didn't think I'd be laughed at, I'd probably order this more often.

While we're on the fruit thing, one friend ordered the Sea Dog Apricot Wheat Beer from Maine. Sadly, it smelled a lot nicer than it tasted: unbalanced and yeasty, this one didn't have much else to recommend it. Stale, nasty, thin, gross. No thank you. Actually, screw the "thank you." NO.

In the meantime, I also had a Fix 1864 Spezial. Beer Advocate says that this is a retired beer - I don't think it is, but that doesn't mean I don't think it should be. Supposedly, the "National Beer of Greece," this was about as unpleasant as one might think Greek beer would be. Thin, watery, and redolent of stale white bread. Also, it's brewed in America, so it's not like our hands are totally clean on this one either.

My girlfriend ordered a Williamsburg AleWerks [sic.] Washington's Porter, from Virginia. It's really dark, with a pretty intense head and nice lacing. However, it over-promised and under-delivered: it was thin, with a fruity raisin-ish flavor and an astringency that evoked stale burnt coffee. Disappointing.

Also tried a "Sweaty Betty" Blonde from Boulder, CO. Our waiter warned me off, but the name sounded too good to be true. And in truth, it was a lot less objectionable than the waiter had led me to believe. It's rather easy to drink, with good grapefruit and orange aromas, and very little hop on the tongue. Instead, it's pique comes from its rather heavy carbonation. Not great, but definitely not as bad as the waiter had said.

Finally, a real revelation of the night: Oskar Blues Old Chub Scottish Style Ale. $4.00. Canned. Everything that says "stay away from me and order something Belgian." Wow, was I wrong. This stuff is pretty fabulous. It's dark brown with no head to speak of and very few bubbles, and its beautifully smooth finish leaves almost no trace of its 8% abv. Great roasted flavors, malt sweetness, and wonderful balance. These suckers are dangerous.

Sam Adams Blackberry Witbier

As I am fond of pointing out to my Californian counterpart, lobster in New England is currently $4.49/lb. So last night, I helped myself to a fine specimen of a sea-bug, lovingly steamed, with plenty of melted butter. Delicious.

I also cracked open a Sam Adams Blackberry Witbier, because it was the only thing left in the fridge. It's part of the Sam Adams Summer Sampler, which also includes the Boston Lager, Sam Adams Light, Sam Summer, Pale Ale, and Latitude 48. Needless to say, everything (even the Light) got drunk before the Blackberry. Here's why.

As you can see, I did end up drinking it. That lobster was pretty salty.

Basically, this is what you get when you cross a middling wheat ale with a 7-11 blue raspberry slurpee, and it's about as refreshing as a piece of whole wheat bread slathered with blackberry jam. This is an unfortunate misstep by Boston Beer Company. Says the label: "Only a specific blackberry could bring the subtle flavor that we wanted for this brew." If subtle flavors were the goal, then this beer misses the mark badly. The only thing subtle about this beer is the hops, which only ends up bringing out the sweetness of the fruit and the insipidness of the grain.

Every sampler pack has a reject. In halloween candy, it's the Almond Joy bars. In Instant Oatmeal, it's the Apple & Cinnamon. And in this beer sampler, it's most certainly the Blackberry Witbier. I'm not saying "Boo-urns"; I'm saying "boo."

Sweet Liberty, Cradle Of

So the delay in getting this blog up and running was a giant 3-day fun-fest standing in the way of your correspondents and their beer: namely, the bar exam. For 4 weeks, I didn't have a drop to drink. No wine, no beer, no cocktails: nothing. I studied my ass off for that thing, and heaven help the person who reports to me that I have to do any part of it over.

In celebration of having completed the exam (or, in my case, two exams), I went out for a drink with some classmates. First stop was at Tia's on the Waterfront in downtown Boston, where I saddled up with a delicious local brew: Sam Adams Summer Ale.

OK fine. Sam Adams might as well be a national macrobrew at this point, given their coast-to-coast availability and ridiculous marketing apparatus (laser-etched nucleation points, anyone?). Still, the summer beer is a favorite.

Sam Summer is a great, refreshing summer beer. There's a ton of citrus, some light wheat flavor, and lovely spice. Also, at 5.2% ABV, it holds up well over a long period of time without becoming heavy, cloying, or totally messing with one's head.

Unfortunately, Tia's on the Waterfront does not have the same staying power. We left. Quickly. I mean really - $7 for a plastic cup pint? Please.

We found ourselves at Cambridge Common, in Cambridge, MA. It's right next to Harvard Law School, but since most of the law students were closer to the bar exam (or better yet, in other states), the jackhole factor was delightfully low.

I went with a Kennebec "Magic Hole" IPA, which has a terrible name. I ordered it off of the menu as the "Kennebec IPA," as Cambridge Common has the sense not to put such a dumbass name on its menu. Out of Maine, this had a lot of bitterness and a very sharp aftertaste, with really delightful astringency for a hot day. Once I cooled down a bit and tasted it again, it felt very shallow: not fantastic, but precisely what I needed that day. At about this time, my hand could again be used for holding my beer glass: stupid handwritten bar exam…

I was looking for a nice strong beer and found one in the Nebraska Hop God, a velvety smooth 9% ABV beer that should have come in a 10 oz. glass. Thankfully, the Common was out of 10 oz. glasses, so my server poured me a pint. There was to be a 4th beer this evening - those plans went out the window. There was some great pinecone in this, a good amount of citrus hop flavor without a lot of kick, and a malt sweetness that one comes to expect from the stronger ales. But a pint of this stuff did me in for sure. Oddly, this one goes really well with ketchup: the vinegar burned off most of the spicier flavors, leaving malt and alcohol on the tongue. Very peculiar, but not unpleasant.

I should mention the Rogue Hazelnut Brown that my girlfriend was drinking. At first, there was a great coffee & mocha base, but then the hazelnut started to seep in. I hate hazelnut. This felt like drinking a beer while sitting at Starbucks and having to breathe in all of that noxious filbert aroma. Gross.

Beer & Pi

Greetings folks, this is your Left Coast correspondent reporting.

Last weekend my boyfriend and I headed to Pi Bar. We had heard that Pi had good pizza and a neat beer selection and we were not disappointed on either account. Here's what was on tap that night:

The atmosphere at Pi was very nice, and the service was very attentive. We very much enjoyed our pizza with house-made sausage and balsamic onions. This, combined with the excellent beer list makes Pi Bar into a beer bar that we will be returning to again. Rather than having something from the tap, we decided to sample a couple selections from their bottled selections.

First up was the Gageleer, a “Sweet Gale Beer” (7.5% ABV). Sweet Gale, also known as Bog Myrtle, was used with other plants in a mixture called gruit to flavor beer from the Middle Ages to the 16th Century, before hops became widely available. Or so Wikipedia tells me.

Gageleer is produced in Belgium, and because the website is only available in Dutch at this time I don’t have much else to say about it. Using Google translator with limited success I discovered that the beer is organic, brewed with barley and gale, and is unpasteurized.

Apologies for the poor qualities of the pictures, I was using my phone that evening.

The Gageleer, which undergoes a second fermentation in the bottle, poured with a nice foam head. It has a pungent floral nose and a pleasant straw color. The Gageleer was unlike any beer I have ever tasted. It was hoppy but also quite sweet, with the flavors of honeysuckle, candied orange, and anise. The alcohol flavor is well hidden. The floral nose becomes a bit overpowering seven or so sips in. My boyfriend described it as tasting of grape Kool-Aid. Trust me, once you hear that you will taste it too. I found that the anise/spice flavor faded and it did end up with a Kool-Aid taste. This is undoubtedly due to (1) the sweetness of the beer and (2) the power of suggestion.

My verdict for the Gageleer is mixed. This is definitely a beer that you would have to linger over or share. I could not have finished it on my own. It was definitely unique and also nice to broaden my palate, but I would not order the Gageleer again. 7/10.

For my second selection I ordered the Maredsous Brune (8% ABV). Maredsous is actually no longer brewed at the Maredsous Abbey, but the Abbey licenses its name to Duval, who brews on their behalf. So, while crafted in the “tradition” of the Benedictine monks, it is mass-produced. Duval maintains that they follow the original recipe of Father Atout. Regardless of who makes it, the Maredsous Brune is a thoroughly pleasant beer:

As you can see, the beer pours extremely well and developed a nice foaming head. It has a mildly sweet nose and a good dark color. In drinking the Brune I found it had a pronounced yeasty flavor, with a slight hoppy taste and sweet currant undertones. In swallowing, the beer develops what I found to be a very pleasant mild alcohol finish. I would drink again. 8.5/10.

We also enjoyed a pint of Death & Taxes, a porter so good that it will have its own entry sometime soon.

Have you tried any of these beers? Let me know what you thought in the comments.