Beer Tripping Volume 2: The Bruery

Depending on where you live, it should absolutely be a priority to dedicate a weekend to taking a trek to whatever local brewery might be around. In fact...if you dig around just a little bit, you might discover a hidden treasure that you didn't even know about. Expand your beer horizons - any brewery of a sizable scale will probably offer some sort of a tour. Worst case, there's probably a tasting room where you can get affordable pints and tasters right from the source (or at least nearby - some tasting rooms are at satellite locations that should be fairly close by).

Or, you could do what I did - work at a retail liquor store and convince local breweries that a private tour would absolutely, totally spur sales of their beers. I don't necessarily recommend it. Customer interaction is soul-crushing.

But somewhere between restocking the cold case and picking up the fractured tatters of your spirit there are occasional perks involved, like when your manager comes and mentions that he managed to secure a private tour of The Bruery, one of your favorite breweries.

The Bruery At-A-Glance
Location: Placentia, CA
Founded: 2008 by Patrick Rue
Production: Around 3000 US Barrels
Distribution: http://www.thebruery.com/locator/index.html

The Bruery, specializing in wonderful beer and soft focus since 2008. http://www.thebruery.com/

If you haven't procured a bottle of anything from The Bruery, I highly recommend you do - their distribution is actually incredibly impressive given the relative small-scale nature of their operation.

Founded in 2008 (by Patrick Rue - hence Bruery), the young brewery specializes in the sophisticated and elegant, taking the Belgian tradition and running away with it in a wayward but suave manner (picture a symphony orchestra running a marathon, maybe). Fiercely experimental, The Bruery uses a tremendous variety of ingredients - from Thai basil to what is essentially blueberry oatmeal - most would never consider putting near their brew pot. And their entire lineup is available only in 22 oz bottles, where their beer does much of the conditioning. That means no six packs - though they do the occasional keg.

Their year-round staples, including Hummulus, an Imperial Pale Lager, and Saison Rue, a Belgian farmhouse ale, are wonderful pairing or special occasion beers, and their seasonal and occasional stuff is the stuff beer nuts totally geek out over (go ahead...mention Black Tuesday to a beer geek and watch their equivalent of a beer O-Face). You might recall 5 Golden Rings from my 12 Beers of Christmas - that was from The Bruery, and was undoubtedly one of my favorite beers of 2012. They've made so many its a challenge to keep track of them all.

The Bruery also features its own "Reserve Society" - a sort of high-class "Beer Club" that allows access to the Provision Series - a collection of "small batch beers that will only be made once." The whole thing might come off as a bit "hoity-toity" but the brewery actually manages to remain very humble and down-to-earth, which is refreshing in an age where beer-snobbery is at all time high. Falling well short of snobby, the exclusive club comes across more as, well, special, and seems to be a celebration of beer and beer sophistication more than themselves.

Featuring more aging barrels than any other craft brewery (excepting Goose Island), The Bruery is fond of aging its collection, meaning its beer does an awful lot of waiting around before it reaches you, allowing the wonderful pallet of robust flavors to fully mature (think of that terrible Cheezit commercial).

"NO DONKEY KONG, NOT THE ONES WITH THE BEEEEEER"

Furthermore, you might say they're leading the pack with the American wild and sour beer phenomenon that has been picking up steam as of late - Sour in the Rye, Rueze, Tart of Darkness, Sans Pagaie... if you're a Sour Seeker (and I know there's an increasing number of you out there), Bruery is absolutely one to follow.

The Super Private Awesome Tour 

It was a Tuesday, and I got to go on a field trip. The grown-up kind, where I don't have to wear a name tageand I get to drink samples of awesome beer.

The Bruery tasting room wasn't open yet, and yet three beer enthusiasts were allowed to take a seat at the bar anyway, graciously hosted by Mass Olesh, Bruery's Director of Retail Operations and all-around cool dude. We were poured a small but potent array of the Bruery's new and favorite offerings as he mused about what they were up to these days.

First up was the Saison Tonnellerie, a hoppier, slightly drier Saison with the tiniest touch of sour and brettanoymces disruption. It was positively delicious but will - alas - see only "extremely limited SoCal distribution."

Next was their Loakal Red, a year-round favorite that features well balanced Cascade hops with great oaky, caramel flavors to back it up. We also got the scoop that, while originally only available in Orange County (hence "Loakal"), this tasty beer is going to be seeing CA-wide distribution soon (if not already). After that was its older, burly brother, Imperial Loakal Red, a bully of a beer that featured an definitive "aged" flavor, with mellowed hops and a pleasant burn of alcohol. I picked up a bottle of this for myself before we left.

I was curious about what they were up to, if anything yet, with the next beer in their Christmas-themed lineup, which by lyrical organization would be Six Geese-a-Layin, so I asked what we might expect. Turns out they would, cleverly enough, be using gooseberries, and that they should be doing some test batches pretty soon. I'm excited.

The final tasting we were offered practically had beams of light and angels singing as it was placed in front me - Matt was super awesome enough to let us experience (not merely try, mind you) Chocolate Rain. To put it in perspective, there's only 138 bottles of this stuff, is going for 150 bucks online, and was only available to members of the aforementioned Preservation Society. We felt special. And Great Ninkasi was this beer special.

[Edit: It's special indeed, but as reader Zach has informed me, it's actually relatively easy to nab if you're in Bruery's Reserve Society...for a "normal" price of about 50 bucks. In the "wild" it's considerably more difficult to come by]. 

We are not worthy!

Chalking in at nearly 19% ABV, it drinks very much like a port or sherry, with a decided thickness and a bevy of flavors that hit hard and seemingly in rotation - raisin, chocolate, vanilla. It was syrupy, sweet and was born of a very simple concept - "We thought it sounded good," said Matt. Their vision is flawless. 

From there we descended from our bar stools begrudgingly (and, admittedly, with some difficulty - 19% beers will do that) and were given a taster for the tour - Humulus Rice - a draft only offering that mixed the leftover rice from Tradewinds with Hummlus for a refreshing and coconutty session beer.

From there we got a peak at a few sections that aren't featured on their regular tour - their science lab, where the beer is poked and prodded (with science), looking at all manner of important details, including ABV, yeast strain health and possible taint issues.

...and their barrel aging room (as seen above, in the previous section), where hundreds of barrels lay in wait, their labels dictating what beer is inside and which ingredients have been added. I noticed one Barrel Labeled Smoking Woood (with three o's), and demanded to know if it's a special edition of Smoking Wood. Matt claims that even brewers make typos but I remain suspicious.

From there was the most important part of the tour...the Sticker Room. Spools upon spools of the labels on the Bruery's bottles - even the obnoxiously rare ones- sat there. The design geek that I am (or 25 year old who still plays Pokemon, whichever angle you want to go with here), I simply had to have a sticker. So I giggled joyously and nabbed a Black Tuesday label. It's now on my PC tower. Score.

This was as equally, if not more, tempting as the beer itself

The tour completed at the conditioning room, where the bottled and boxed beer waits for a few extra weeks to finish developing, and one more quick stop at the bar for a taste of Mrs.Stoutfire, a delightfully named rauchbier for those of you who like em' smokey.

I can't recommend The Bruery enough, really. If you live in Southern California, please give them a visit. I can't promise that you'll get the VIP treatment that I, a modest internet beer celebrity (or, you know, retail worker) got, but it's an exceptional tasting room in its own right. And if you're not in SoCal, do yourself a favor and pick up a beer from them anyway. You won't regret it.







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The Great Blog Crossover: Dessert Pairings

The internet is a wonderful place, isn't it? Ignoring comment sections, obviously - they sort of make me lose faith in humanity. But it's a great platform to shout to the world, "LOOK HOW MUCH I LIKE SOMETHING." Ben Likes Beer is obviously my little corner of the internet that allows me to share my passion for the miracle elixir known as beer, and I'm grateful that you fine people come over and read what I have to say. I know there are other beer blogs out there... and you better not read them. Seriously. So help me I will find out...

Anyway, for whatever reason, other people are passionate about things that aren't beer, and happen to write some truly splendid blogs themselves. One of these creative scribes is a friend of mine named Rachel Rice, a lovely lady who specializes in all things "totes adorbs," including bunnies, handcrafted knickknacks and cup cakes  that will totally make you go "squeee." Her etsy shop can be seen here:

Thebunnyandi.com - second only to pictures of baby pigs in terms of internet cuteness generation.

Perhaps my favorite part of Rachel's repertoire of skills is her uncanny ability to make the absolute tastiest desserts you've ever had. Take it from me, a devout anti-cupcake renegade, who took one bite of one of her specialties -a strawberry filled, almost cornbread-like number - and literally uttered "Oh my God." The girl's good.

So from this, two separate passions on different sides of the internet, from two different coasts, came an idea: The Great Blog Crossover. Here's how it works; I picked out a beer - Dogfish Head's Theobroma - and had her design a dessert that would go well with it. I, on the other hand, was sent a dessert recipe to recreate and pick a beer to go along with it. Pretty simple. Here's what she ended up with, please do yourself a favor and check it out.


Beer and Dessert - together?! Well, yeah, of course- practically every dessert out there begs to be paired with a brew, but more on that in a little bit. Here's the recipe Rachel so graciously lent to me:

I'm a decent enough cook, but baking was never particularly my specialty- aside from Christmastime, when I don the apron and pump out enough Christmas Cookies to feed a yuletide army. But a pie? A pie always seemed like the crowning achievement of a baker, but Rachel's recipe removes a lot of the chaos by graciously allowing you to use a pre-made pie crust instead of making one from scratch (which requires a PhD, I'm fairly certain). But this? This was cake. Or, you know, pie. And it's, Hell, I'll say it... yummy.

More or less a bourbon-accented apple pie, it's wondrously easy to put together. If your oven is as ancient as mine you'll need to leave it in a bit longer than 45 minutes, and mine sure as hell didn't come in any form that was "sliceable," but hey, it was really tasty and it pairs really well with beer. 

But what exactly makes a beer pair well with food, specifically dessert? We've all heard of wine pairings, of course, and dessert wines and the like. But Beer pairing is a very elaborate world in itself (and again I find the need to recommend Randy Mosher's Tasting Beer if you want to learn more), with its own set of guidelines, so taking a look at dessert pairings, arguably the easiest course to pair, is a great introduction.

First, let me share with you the beer I have gone with for pairing:

Stone's Russian Imperial Stout is a limited release that gets released in small batches, and the Espresso version, obviously, kicks it up with a robust coffee flavor. Like much of Stone's offerings, this beer is bold and intense, dark and sporting a notably hearty ABV of 11%, though the espresso flavor does well to subdue the burn of the alcohol. That doesn't suggest it's a "drinkable" beer - its richness alone will slow you to careful sips, and there's a fairly powerful background hop bitterness that actually pairs nicely with the associated flavors. It's very much an intense beer, but that works perfectly for what we're going for here.

Food AND Beer Porn. Eat your heart out, Instagram Hipsters

A big aspect of pairing beer with food is balance. Big, robust, bitterness demands a sweet counterpart to even it out, which is what we have at play here. Take a bite of pie, then a sip of beer. If you've paired well, it should be a completely different, and completely improved, experience. The sweet-and-tart flavor of the apple pie balances the rich bitterness of the Espresso Stout, bringing both to even levels. Add some vanilla ice cream and it'll go even better (duh).

But this, of course, is only one example. A lot of the time whether or not a beer will pair well is as simple as reading the "main flavor feature" of the beer, and determining if that ingredient, extracted from the beer, would go with the dessert by itself. Obviously coffee beers are a great option, given coffee's common pairing with a meal's finale. And so are bourbon barrel-aged beers, for a similar reason. In fact, given bourbon's presence in the pie, any of those beers would be a no-brainer pairing. If something boasts a caramel profile from caramel malt, this beer is practically begging to be paired with a dessert and you should do so immediately, preferably in the middle of store. Make some friends.

As a general rule of thumb, the more intense the flavor, the more intense the pairing. So, for example, you wouldn't pair a Pale Ale with a Chocolate Lava Cake, simply because the Pale Ale would get lost in the intensity of the dessert. Likewise, a delicate dessert like a panna cotta might night be able to stand to the richness of an Imperial Stout.

A few other rule stand-bys:

• Generally, dessert pairings need need a higher ABV to stand up to the flavors associated with dessert. Think 8% or higher.Much less than that is gonna get lost very quickly. 
• When in doubt, go Belgian. These beers tend to be chock full of flavors - caramelly sweetness, roasty malt, low hop profile - that will blend perfectly. Their elevated ABVs will help out, too. 
• It seems counter-intuitive but hop-bomb Imperial IPAs can reign in an out of control sweetness some desserts might sport. Again, stick to a higher booze rating. 

So there you have it. You can never have too much of a good thing. Beer is good. Dessert is good. When their powers combine, well... it's almost too good to be true.

Big thanks to Rachel. Remember, check out her half of these shennanigans:
http://sunnydaysandotherthings.blogspot.com/2013/04/blog-swap-cookes-and-beer.html

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If a Bottle Can, a Can Can, and Other Can-Related Puns

Change is brewing (See? Beer puns in the opening sentence. When I promise, I deliver).

The bottle has held an iron grip on the craft phenomenon for as long as it has existed, and it's not particularly difficult to discern why: cans were (or are, based on the perceptions of many, including my readers, but we'll get to that in a bit) relegated to second-class vessel, reserved for cheap swill and garbage beer with no place but disappointing frat parties, as though that isn't redundant.

And yet for many more, it's simply the only way to consume beer, though it's unlikely that this market has much interest in craft brew. To this day, preparations for my Christmas Eves are reliably marked with picking up a few packs of Coors Lite for one uncle, and Miller Lite for the other, as though "The Big Three" are the only beers that exist.

Mmmm Generic Beer Goodness 

The quality of these beers (or rather, the lack thereof), is largely regardless of their container, of course, but for those decorated beer snobs out there (I love you all, by the way), the bottle is best.

And this perception is sort of compounded by history, not unrelated to those three canned tyrants. Indeed, the first canned beers were considered novel. They stacked neatly in the fridge, were light to carry - both noted benefits for the demographic that was doing most of the shopping at the time (that is to say, women). Prohibition, naturally, devastated beer consumption and quality, and World War II limited cans as the metal was needed elsewhere, but soon after the popularity took off, especially as the desire for consistent, reliable and "truly American" brands like Coca-Cola found a place in the culture. Canned beer settled in comfortably among this mentality, especially as companies such as Miller were injecting perceptively-female concepts such as light beer with a dose of testosterone, which lead to the Lite phenomenon that would become perilously synonymous with canned beer.

But the noble bottle, steadfast as its prevalence may be, is finding its throne, well, not necessarily challenged - maybe aggressively poked at? - as breweries are adding cans to their lineups.

Let's take a look, for example, at Maui Brewing, a small craft brew on the island of Maui, Hawaii that peddles its wares, including its Bikini Blonde and Coconut Porter exclusively in cans. The brewery defends the can from a purely environmental perspective, keeping the prosperity of their beloved island first and foremost in their minds. Cans, as they astutely observe "don't break like glass bottles," thereby protecting the plethora of beaches and the tourists that peruse them.

Googling "Bikini Blonde" actually, mysteriously, returned much different results. Image from Maui Brewing. 

But the benefits of cans don't dissipate as we travel to the mainland; regardless of how many beaches we're surrounded by, canned beer does offer a host of benefits. For me, the most lucrative aspect is the opaque nature of a can. Hold up a beer can in front of a light. Can you see through it? If so, congratulations on being the most useless member of the X-Men ever. If not, you see a pretty obvious benefit of canned beer - light can't get in. With glass, the best case scenario (brown bottles) can only keep UV damage at bay for so long, with other colors (green and clear) offering considerably less, and leading a beer to its skunky demise far sooner than one would hope for. Canned beer will last far longer than its bottled counterparts.

Then of course there's a slew of other relatively small but still notable perks to canned beer: it chills faster, it requires no bottle opener, it is easily recyclable (and requires less materials - no cardboard six pack carrier) and they're lighter and easier to transport (you know, for the drinker on the go). And that crazy thought that beer instills a metallic taste into beer? Well, it's kinda bull, unless you're licking the can (I know you're out there) - we perfected the beer lining awhile ago. A few breweries are embracing the can, either giving you the option of of picking up a canned or bottle six pack of their popular beers (including Avery, Kona, and Ballast Point), while others do cans exclusively, such as Oskar Blues (a favorite brewery of mine, by the way), 21st Amendment and the aforementioned Maui.

Basically, in the can versus bottle debate, it's sort of a moot point. Pour a fresh beer from a can or a bottle, and it's pretty likely that you're not going to be tasting a huge difference (unless, apparently, it's Budweiser, where "64 percent of participants correctly identified the canned Budweiser," according to Huffington Post, and only "17 percent...preferred it", but are we really surprised?)

Still, it bears noting this equality is contingent on the fact that you're doing what you're supposed to and pouring the beer in a glass. If you're at a party without glasses (consider new friends) or are camping, or are just lazy, then the complaints of that aluminum smell and taste are reasonably valid. And, if you need further validation, bottles do indeed come with a few perks of their own: while cans chill faster, bottles stay cold longer. And my favorite point is the perceived elegance of cans, or really the lack thereof; a six pack of cans may be nice for a casual visit to a friend's for the game, but there's something truly beautiful and special about a tall, corked bottle of beer (can you imagine a 750 ml can of Chimay)? Either way, the variety is nice to have.

Of course, we could always try to go back to the "best of both worlds," the cone top can. Image from Beer Can Pro.

But while we're talking about cans...

Caldera Ashland Amber
Ashland, Oregon
6 Pack Cans, 5.6% ABV
Poured into pint glass

They say one of the perks of modern beer cans is that they appeal to the "outdoorsy" types, who are just cool enough to be picky about what they drink as they careen down a river, mountain, or active avalanche. Caldera, with the advice to "GO FISHING... GO BIKING... GO CANS..." may be right up their alley. It also happens to be a pretty solid beer in its own right.

The head is bubbly and very sweet, with a touch of roast. Maybe it's all that outdoorsy "why in the hell are you sitting at a computer" talk that damn label was parading around, but I was reminded of toasted marshmallows. The beer itself keeps the sweetness reserved, but is wonderfully smooth, very drinkable, but very much full of flavor. I detect, somewhat strangely, a touch of buttery flavors that I don't actually mind at all (but it is a bit strange, especially since "buttery" is usually a telltale sign that something went amiss getting that beer to you, especially with the draft lines, but that's obviously not the case here). It has a nice malty richness that is uplifted by subtle hopping, and you could easily put away a few of these very quickly. And, by the way, it is completely devoid of any metallic flavors and the desire to smash it against my forehead.

But then again, I've only had one. So far.

Next time you're at the your favorite craft brew store, give a craft six pack of cans a try. You might be surprised.







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Wheat: The Other Beer Grain

We all know how beer "works," right?

Or, at least, the basic concept. Like so many other things in the world, beer gets infinitely more complicated when you look at it under a microscope; getting into the minutiae of the fascinating and incredibly involved chemistry behind beer - that is, how beer "works" - would quickly take a turn for the overwhelming and require volumes to properly explain (it requires science), and admittedly, more knowledge than I  (currently) - possess. I'm working on it!

That said, we don't need to know the chemical makeup of a beer to know if it tastes good, of course, but for the sake of this "beerducation," a small (incredibly abstracted) primer would probably be beneficial:

1. Harvested grain is soaked in water, which in turn make the grains germinate - that is, begin to grow, ripe with starch. 
2. The grains are heated to stop the germination and to activate enzymes within the grains. From here, the grains, now called malt, will be mashed with water in order to start breaking those starches into simple sugars - yeast food. 
3. After a few (integral) steps, including boiling (again, much could be written on these matters alone), the beer will reach its fermentation tank, where yeast is introduced to the wort, and the delightfully named zymurgy (that is, the science of fermentation), takes place, where the yeast eat the sugars and converts into carbon dioxide (the fizzy) and ethanol (the fun). 

Again, this is almost insultingly boiled down (pardon the beer pun), but it does help to convey the message I'm getting at here: grains are the source of the sugars we feed to yeast. Barley is by far the most common grain utilized in the production of beer, but its not the only option. Oats and rye have found their way into many beers, each with their own unique elements to lend to a beer. 

But today, we're focusing on that other beloved grain, wheat.

Wheat Wars

Useful for crushing thin, or inspiring Athlete-themed breakfast cereals, and arch-nemesis of celiacs (and the completely bizarre celiac-wannabe/fad dieters, I guess), wheat has found its way into much of what we eat on a daily basis. In terms of beer, though, wheat's presence in beer extends back for centuries, and has become an integral ingredient in many styles for which it has become a sort of linchpin. Some countries traditionally eschew the grain altogether (See: England), while others fully embrace it as a cherished beer variety. Wheat is also a great ingredient for creating a rich, foamy, cloud-like head, so many brewers will throw in just a touch in order to achieve that effect.

Pictured: Corsendonk Trippel with a head so nice you could nap on it.

Wherever the styles sprout up, they tend to be attributed to the term white, due to either being lighter than other beers available at the time, or to the fact that white and wheat have the same etymological origin.What's interesting, though, is how much those styles vary between the countries in which the grain is utilized:

Germany

 An important footnote in wheat's pedigree includes the Reinheitsgebot, a (relinquished but still largely observed) German purity law that dictates simplicity in German beer, was actually enacted, in part, to outlaw the use of any grain but barley in beer, as to reserve the wheat exclusively for bakers. The other part was to stop brewers from putting weird herbs you've never heard of into their brews (we'll get to that in a second, Belgium). 

That aspect of the law was actually rescinded shortly after, meaning brewers were again free to put wheat in their beers to their hearts' content, but the other elements (that is, that beer may only consist of barley/wheat, water, hops and yeast) remained in effect until 1988, and is still observed by many breweries. To this day, any beer that utilizes wheat must be an ale. 

The most classic example of a German wheat beer is, of course, the hefeweizen (hefe- with yeah, weizen - wheat, so a wheat beer with yeast), a beer that remains unfiltered and garners a distinct cloudiness from the yeast still floating around in it. Reasonably sweet, a good hefeweizen should throw notes of pepper and citrus, with a very reserved hop profile. Most German wheat beers make use of a combination of both barley and malted wheat, and the wheat ale yeast should feature a distinctive "banana bread" aroma. Several variants include kristalweizen - filtered wheat beer, and dunkelweizen - literally "dark wheat," a wheat beer that features longer-roasted malts. Every significant brewer in Germany will brew at least one weizen for their lineup, with many carrying two or more varieties. Hopf, Erdinger and of course Weihenstephaner are just a few "big names" to consider, and each of their wheat offerings are dependable. I think the Hopf Dunkel weiss is particularly nice. 

I like this brewery because it keeps the number of  angry-sounding consonants to a minimum. 

Like most German beers,weizens are going to be very simple, very reliable and, usually, very tasty. Content with the classics, German brewers tend to adhere to that adage of, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," and while German beers are rarely distinctly fascinating, they are dependable.

That said, a few interesting wheat "oddballs" do exist. A Gose, for example, is a sour oddity from Eastern Germany that makes use of coriander and salt (seriously) - and as such, does not adhere to the Reinheitsgebot - but is indeed wheat based. Another is the Berliner Weiss, a quickly disappearing anomaly from Northern Germany that uses wheat and lambic-like sourness. A syrup, usually raspberry or woodruff flavored, is added. It has largely disappeared in its native homeland, but American breweries are trying their hand at the stuff. 

Also seen restoring health bars in your favorite video game. 

Belgium

While Germany was clamping down on runaway ingredient lists, nearby Belgium took an "Eh, why not" methodology and added a veritable pantry's worth of herbs and spices to their beer recipes. Before the rise of the hop, Belgians (and, indeed, other brewers worldwide) made use of something called a gruut - a ground blend of different herbs that seemed to serve the same bittering and preservative aspects of hops. Hops replaced this old-world mash due to its reliability and better predictability, but the concept of the grist, and some of the herbs and spices associated with it, especially coriander, orange peel and cumin, were revitalized in recent decades.   

This owes largely to a man named Pierre Celis, whose invention (which harked back to a beer from his childhood) sought to reuse some of the classic spices associated with beer, and would come to be known as Hoegaarden. While that beer may hardly be what it used to be since being scooped up a multinational conglomerate, the trail was blazed for the style. Much spicier and often sweeter than their German brethren, Belgian wheats (called wits or weisse) tend to make use of a higher percentage of wheat in the mash, which may or may not be malted at all.

 They tend to sport the same cloudiness, with a creamy head and bread-like notes, and a very prevalent orange flavor (ditch that orange wedge; it isn't necessary if you're actually drinking a good beer). The flavors here sport a bit more of an impact, but rarely overwhelming, and the hop profile remains practically non-existent. Some good examples include St. Sebastiaan Grand Reserve and Blanche Des Honnelles. 

Of course, Belgium is home to one of the arguably "weirdest" beer styles out there, the lambic, which makes use of unmalted wheat before undergoing its spontaneous fermentation and barrel aging. They are though, in their own unique way, still wheat beers. 

So wheat has earned its keep in a large collection of beers from two of the biggest beer-producing countries in the world. American wheats have their own thing going on, of course, but many, including a few of the incredibly popular "summer beers" like Shock Top and Blue Moon owe their existence to a foreign concept (meanwhile, other breweries truly get the homage right, like Allagash White). A few others, like Lagunita's A Little Sumpin' Sumpin Ale are doing something distinctly American (namely, making the hop flavor very predominant, something vaguely unusual for a wheat-based beer). Still, wheat, whether a small portion with an intended purpose or a highlighted element, is an integral beer ingredient. 

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Aging Gracefully: The Art of Aging Beer

It is often said that good things take time. It's only a matter of time, or, time heals all wounds. Pick an idiom, any idiom, but the concept's the same: time changes things.

It is this very construct that turns mashed grapes into wine or mashed corn into bourbon. But what about when a product reaches its final destination, when those grapes have become shiraz and that corn is in a manhattan? For some spirits, like whisky and cognac, time stops once the bottle is sealed (a bottle of 10 year cognac doesn't become 20 year cognac because it sat collecting dust in your basement for a decade). Wine's a different story, of course, with many aficionados dedicating entire cellars for their extensive collections. 

But what about beer, you surely ask? Well, that gets a definitive "it depends." 

At first, it's kind of difficult to imagine bothering to age beer, considering the nature of a lot of the beer we drink. Much of the imagery associated with beer highlights how the powers that be (which include a silver-coated train barreling through snowy summits, apparently) work hard to get your beer to you fast. 

And that's because for many styles, including most lagers and the mass brewed junk, are pretty delicate brews; time is the enemy - at the moment it is canned or bottled it is, presumably, in its ideal state. 

From there, the more steps (and by proxy, time) it takes to get to you, the more likely the beer's quality and taste are to deteriorate. Any number of hurdles - drastic temperature changes, light exposure, improper handling, among others - can appear on this journey, all intent on ruining the brewmaster's vision and your beer experience. 

As any devout beer fan will tell you, old beer is a great way to ruin a good time. We've all been there - the wine drinking party host helpfully offers that there's "some leftover beer in the fridge," and you trudge over only to discover an open box of some brewery's Springtime offering - from last year. You sigh and begrudgingly pop it open, only to imbibe some nearly flavorless swill that barely constitutes being called a beer.  You then presumably sob quietly to yourself. 

So how do you know which beers are ready to age? A few simple questions will help you make it easy to weed out quite a few beers that simply aren't meant for aging. 

Is the ABV percentage less than 7 or 8%? 

If so, don't bother. A big part of what lets a beer stand up to time is its alcohol content. Beers with lower alcohol content are often meant to be enjoyed very cold and often very quickly. The fresher the beer the more vibrant the flavors. A notable exception to this is the traditional lambic, a style prized for its tart and sour flavor, but we'll get into that some other time. 

Is it a lager?

Again, if so, you don't typically need to bother. Lagers tend to be lighter and colder than their bold ale brothers, whose warm-fermenting yeast tend to sport fruity flavors, and the flavors associated with lagers are at their peak when they're first packaged. That is to say, lagers don't tend to sport flavors that will benefit from aging. This isn't an all encompassing rule, of course, but it's generally a pretty safe rule of thumb. 

Are hops the showcase? 

Does the beer promise to bitter your face off? Does the beer name some clever use of the word "hop" like "Hoptimum" or "Hoptimator"? If so, then you don't want to age it. Doing so would only ruin what the brewery was getting at - that is, keeping that hop intensity in the forefront. The first thing to go as a beer ages is the aroma and bitterness from the hops, so while taming the hops in some beers could be a benefit, that's not the intention of an Imperial IPA or similar style. 

In certain examples, breweries go out of their way to deter would-be cellarers from aging their beer, such as Knee Deep's Simtra, which sports a pretty clear disclaimer on its label.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT AGE THIS, WHAT ARE YOU, A MONSTER?" 

An even more extreme example is Stone's Enjoy By series, a collection of beers that sport a very clear date by which you are expected to drink the beer (hence, "Enjoy By _____"). The beers arrive in very small batches, are kept cold, and quickly turn into a running of the hopheads, who anxiously dash into every specialty beer shop in site in hopes of scoring a bottle. I begrudgingly admit that it is incredibly tasty and worth scoring at least a taste if you can. 

Alright, I get it, let me age something, dammit.

Well, ok. If you haven't deduced it, let me help out: the beers worth aging tend to be higher-alcohol ales. Even better if they're "bottle-conditioned" - these "living beers" still have a lot going on in terms of their maturation, even after they leave the brewery. A cork is a pretty reliable indicator that a beer could stand up to some aging. A reliable variety is barleywine. Whatever you chose, keep the temperature as consistent as possible (around 50 degrees is ideal if you can swing it), and keep the beer on its side for prolonged aging (to prevent excess carbonization loss). 

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Barleywine - A variety of beer that uses a massive amount of everything - hops and malts, to create an equally massive beer that tends to sport a high alcohol content and distinct sweetness and lends itself well to contemplative sipping. Traditional English barleywines are indistinguishable from old ales, a traditional type of beer brewed in October to stand up to the colder months and lack of beer ingredient harvests. American styles tend to be an homage to American brewing, making big use of malts and hops that you can only get here. Great for use in aging as the flavors change in very discernable ways. 

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Bigfoot Barleywine 2011 and 2013

Sierra Nevada Brewery 

Chico, CA

9.6%, 4 pack

Served in Tulip Glass 

There are two ways to compare aged beers. One way is the old fashioned method - wait. Barleywines from "big" craft brews such as Bigfoot tend to be reliably available at your favorite beer spots, so buy a 4 pack and put a few bottles away for a year or two, then buy that year's batch. Or, do what I did, and luck out - I bought a 4 pack of 2013, and managed to find a single bottle of 2011 at a local specialty beer shop. Give it shot, you might get lucky. Otherwise, wait it out!

Bigfoot Barleywine: The siblings 

2013

Randy Mosher, author of "Tasting Beer," claims that fresh Bigfoot is "a little overwhelming,"and he might have a point. Bigfoot has a great amount of absolutely everything. The aroma is distinctly hoppy, with just a touch of sweetness, which is a great hint at what's to come. The mouthfeel, though creamy, is intense and sparkling, and a sweet opening turns into a hop overload at the tail (the term "bittersweet" comes to mind). We're talking Imperial IPA levels of hop here, people, which I admit I was a bit surprised at. 

The generous bounds of everything in this beer are pretty clear and the packaging's warning - "a beast of a beer" - is pretty appropriate. Tasty, yes, but not particularly friendly or approachable. Enjoy carefully. 

2011

Step back two years, however, and you have an entirely different beer and a terrific example of what time can do to a beer in a beneficial sense. The hops have been reeled in, which is particularly noticeable in the aroma - previously floral, they've subsided to a yeasty, almost savory sweetness. This is the case with the flavor as well, which has likewise mellowed, though it still features a bitter finish that sticks around. 

Rich is the appropriate word here, and it evokes many of the same senses that a steak might. That might not sound particularly delicious in a beer, but what's at play is fascinating, and a great example of what can happen with the ingredients are left to do their thing. I like this version infinitely more than its younger brother. It has matured, and calmed, and come into its own. 

By the way, in terms of aging beer, 2 years can be just the tip of the iceberg. Many age-friendly beers can be aged far longer, So, get started! Put a beer somewhere!

Krups Beer Dispenser And Chilling Machine (Google Affiliate Ad)

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Beer Pouring 101 - A Lesson (Featuring Internet Culture)

Pouring beer is hard.

And no I don't mean pouring a lukewarm can of some mass-brewed swill down your gullet. That's easy. And admittedly kind of depressing (not to say I haven't been there, ya know, a lot...).

What I mean is that pouring a nice bottle of beer properly is hard. Anyone can crank open a bottle, dump out its contents into any ol' vessel and guzzle it down (and for some session beers, that's actually ok, if you insist), but with all that effort you went through to procure that awesome little bottle of wonder, don't you think you want to do everything you can to make sure the little guy is at its finest? There are a few steps between bottle and sip that you ought to observe.

The way a beer "tastes" is an amalgamation of a lot of different factors - smell and mouth feel are just as important as the way it interacts with your sense of sweet, sour, bitter, etc. Paying close attention to these factors is a pivotal aspect of enjoying beer, and this topic alone could fill books (and certainly has). But for the sake of this particular post we'll limit discussion to how you can make sure these factors are "observable" as possible for your next beer pour.

Step One: Pick a Glass to Match the Occasion

Much to the shock of absolutely no one (I hope), the contraption you put your beer in has a lot to do with the way you experience it. Or, rather, it has the potential to - a lot of the run-of-the-mill pint glasses our beer culture has opted for actually aren't doing the beer within any favors (but more on that in a second). Special glasses exist for different varieties of beer, with many companies offering beers specifically for their own brews. Some take it to interesting extremes.

Sam Adam's MIT-developed monstrosity is actually a fine example of a great beer glass. 

While not every beer has its own specific beer glass - nor do they do they need one - some truly change the way a beer tastes. Some attributes, such as a tulip glass' smaller size, are pretty obvious (they're reserved for higher alcohol beers, where the serving is smaller), others may be less so. The rounded "bulb-like" contour of many glasses, including the one pictured above, act as a sort of reservoir for aromas, concentrating them in a section near the rim so that they are more fragrant. Wine glasses and whisky snifters are shaped the way they are for a similar reason, and in fact make fine glasses for beer, albeit a bit counter-intuitive (sort of like drinking cold stuff out of a coffee mug. Totally weird).

Another fun aspect some glasses have, including the Mega Glass from Sam Adams, is a small laser etching at the base that allows for a constant stream of tiny bubbles to emit from the beer, preserving its bubbly, clean mouth feel.

Other glasses that we've grown accustomed to, such as your run of the mill "shaker" glass, don't do much to capture any of those interesting aromas, and as such shouldn't be your go-to when you're planning on experiencing something truly special. Special glasses exist for stouts, hefeweizens, and other archetypal styles, but picking something with the attributes above should lend themselves well to any style. Libbey's Glass has a super solid collection of beer glass that's very affordable, so that's one option. Besides, it's even more important to...

Step Two: Make Sure It's Clean

Like, seriously clean. You'd think this is pretty self explanatory, but nothing ruins the flavor of balanced flavors of a good beer like grime, so it's generally a good idea to give a glass a good scrub before pouring. But then, make sure you rinse it thoroughly. Oils and detergents are beer head's worst enemy, and can diminish a nice frothy head (which is your goal- to be discussed next) in seconds. Ask your favorite frat bro the trick to diminishing foam before a game of beer pong - it's facial oil. And yes, that's disgusting.

But my glass is not. My glass is pretty. LOOK AT IT.

...beautiful.

This is from the aforementioned Libbey's Beer Collection, their hefeweizen glass - note the height; it affords extra space for especially heady beers, as wheat beers tend to be. It's ready for beer and so, presumably, are you. So let's get to the pouring - the most important and trickiest part.

Step Three: Pour Your Heart Out 

It's a common misconception that it's a good idea to gently poor the beer down the side of a tilted glass to reduce the overall amount of that pesky head. After all, it just gets in the way of that tasty, tasty beer, right?

You're a bad person and you should feel bad.

I'm walking a fine line of decency here, but since I know you're all upstanding, mature human beings, I'll come out and say it: Head is nice. We all want head. Hooray for head.

Thank you for your maturity.

You see, in addition to being aesthetically pleasing, that beautiful, frothy pillow on a beer offers the greatest concentration of aromas (a lot of the bitterness of the hops goes directly into the head, by the way, so wish as you might, it isn't going to taste like a delicious marshmallow), and is telling about how the rest of the beer will taste, so don't devoid your senses the experience by eliminating it.

The best way to achieve this is to simply pour your beer into the center of the glass until the foam promises to overflow, and hold back. Let the head subside, and repeat.You might make a few spills along the way, but it becomes second nature. It can take longer than you want it to, sure, but the flavors and aromas will be at their full potential this way.

A beer in two stages of pouring. The one in the forefront will settle and more will be poured in.

Ideally, you'll have around an inch of foam when it's time to serve.

Which reminds me:

Robert Johnson's Hellhound On My Ale 

Dogfish Head Brewery
Milton, DE

1 Pint 9.4 Fl Oz. Bottle, served in Hefeweizen Glass
10% ABV
Around $14.00

The featured beer

That lovely golden elixir up there is Dogfish Head's Hellhound, a liquid homage to the legendary blues musician Robert Johnson, and its one of the tastiest, and most interesting, beers I've had recently. The label advertises that it is "brewed with lemons" a somewhat concerning label that beckons thoughts of lemon shandies and cloyingly sweet "summer beers," that you shove a lemon wedge onto, but fortunately that's not even remotely the case.

The head pours thick and the body is ever so slightly cloudy, meaning that a touch of wheat is at play here. It's remarkably creamy and swirls in nice layers as you drink. The lemony goodness comes from both lemon zest and centennial hops, a notably citrusy hop and star of the show, as it's the only variety of hop in there. Even better, the lemon here is hardly a gimmick; it is instead a wonderful accent - and while its role is certainly pivotal, it's content to remain in the background of the act, waiting quietly behind the careful balance of mighty malt and hop heft (of which there are a significant amount - the bottle informs you that it hits over 100 IBU in the brewery).

 But it is remarkably drinkable given its girth, and the levels of sweetness and bitterness (both kept well in check), complete with the sparkling lemon finish, give the beer and almost tea-like quality. Find this one, for now, or for your summer meals. It's worth a bit of searching. And, of course, pour carefully.

Yeah, that's the stuff.

Dogfish's Hellhound gets an: 

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Ben Likes Bourbon (Aged Beer)

Believe it or not, I drink other things. This should not be shocking - I do not subsist entirely on beer from morning to night, though I might wish I could (blah blah, social norms). If I did, I would almost assuredly exist in a buzzed, 300 lb stupor, and believe it or not even the creative industry requires some mental clarity. I'm sober right now, actually. Thanks for the applause.

But I'm not actually talking about tea, or orange juice, or bottled water (Ben Likes Bottled Water coming soon), I mean I drink other alcoholic things, especially when you can learn about beer by doing so. A lot of the distilling and flavoring processes have quite a bit in common  So, with that in mind, let's learn a bit about bourbon, shall we?

Bourbon is, for the sake of grand simplification, American Whisky. It's gotta be made in America to garner the term bourbon, and it was even declared America's "Native Spirit" by Lyndon B Johnson in 1964. But there's a bit more than shoving a MADE IN THE USA sticker on a bottle of whisky and calling it a day; there are standards. 

Corn, for example. The little golden nugget that has ingrained (heh...ingrained...plant puns) itself in nearly everything we eat is actually an integral part of bourbon. To be a bourbon, corn must represent at least 51% of the grain mixture, though in many cases it makes it up upward toward 70% or more, with the rest being wheat, rye or barley. And that's not just because of availability; corn tends to be the sweetest grain, which is an important distinction of bourbon.

The grain is then ground, added to water (the mix is called a mash), and exposed to yeast and allowed to ferment. Sound familiar?

The result is a clear liquid of no more than 160 proof which is then put into barrels where that bourbony goodness - the color and flavor - comes from. But this is where the major distinction comes from- to be bourbon, the barrels have to be new charred American White Oak. Other varieties - Scotch, Canadian Whisky, etc - can reuse previously utilized barrels. Bourbon can't.

Bourbon barrels. Makes me wanna play Donkey Kong. 

And this is where the crossover comes into play. All of those great bourbon flavors afforded by those barrels lend themselves really, really well to beer. Two cases in point:

Brrrbon '12 
Widmer Brothers
Portland, Oregon
Alchemy Project Seasonal Ale
9.4% ABV

22 oz. Bottle, Tulip Glass 

Following the initial brewing process, Widmer Bro's Brrrbon spends a four month stint in those special barrels we talked about. The result is a coppery, transparent brew with a thick off-white head. And exceptionally, remarkably smooth. I can't emphasize that enough; Brrbon is ridiculously smooth. As in, it could go down like ice tea if you let it. I'm really not sure how they did it, actually.

Image from Widmer Brothers 

And that's what's unusual about it, actually. It has the woody nose of bourbon, but not quite the bite you'd expect, or want. It's oddly friendly. There are hints of the bourbon flavor to be certain, with the burnt wood winning out, but the malty sweetness is more prevalent, with the tinge of hops bringing up the tail. There are certainly wintery qualities to it (hence the name), most notably the toasty flavors.

The beer is a solid introduction to Bourbon Beers, given it's "gentle" nature, but I think it could have afforded a few more months in the barrels to really instill it with those powerful flavors. As it stands, the flavors are pretty subtle and it doesn't quite pack the punch you want it to.

The Abyss 2012 Reserve 
Deschutes Brewery
Bend, Oregon
Imperial Stout
11.1% ABV

22 oz. Bottle, Pint Glass 

While Brrrbon might have been a friendly introduction to the world of Bourbon-aged beers, Abyss is a brutal, affronting cataclysm of a beer (the website touts the headline "Ten beers that will make you a man...if they don't kill you first"), and I pretty much love it.

Abyss is a limited-edition annual beer from Deschutes that takes the barrel aging to another level: portions are sent to age in both wine and bourbon barrels, lending qualities of both to the final creation. It's an extremely dark, nearly black and perfectly opaque concoction with a head that looks like chocolate milk. And there's no wonder - it takes its flavorings from every "dark" ingredient imaginable; licorice, molasses, oak and chocolate and vanilla all take their turn on your pallet, with the chocolate malts appearing most prominently.

But more important, really, is that the "oomph" of a bourbon is here and accounted for. The oaky qualities, the potent warmth. There are complex layers at play here, with sweetness from the molasses and a nice touch of bitter, and they manage to be distinct while still playing remarkably well together. It's a genuinely interesting brew that only becomes more interesting when paired with food (I sampled it with pretzels, and the salt multiplied the flavors considerably).

Even more interesting, the beer includes an "Enjoy After" date, well into 2013. That doesn't mean you have to wait until then, but it does transform the beer into an entirely different experience (this is called cellaring a beer, just like wine - but we'll go over that in another post). Me, personally, though, I couldn't hold off. The beer is that great. Find it. It's worth the price tag.




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