Beer Tripping, Volume 1: San Diego, Part II

Stone Brewery was only one part of the beer adventure, and with as many options as there are in the area (there are literally dozens, as I previously mentioned; they call themselves the San Diego Brewers Guild, and they make San Diego a beer lover's heaven) it was difficult to call it a day at just one. So we didn't.

While Stone was certainly the crown jewel of the brewery collection, the scattered "little guys," while maybe being sans an outdoor bistro and beer garden,  were still every bit as appealing.

Lost Abbey Brewery 
Escondido, CA
Beers Encountered: Avant Garde, Devotion, Judgment Day, Red Barn


Running a brewery of any scale is not a condensed operation. One fermentation tank can range from 10 to 100 hl (that's hectoliters, as in, 100 liters). A site will obviously vary in the size and quantity of their tanks depending on the size of the brewery but as a general theme it's not exactly something you can run out of your bedroom.

Still, if there is such a thing as a "hole-in-the-wall" brewery, Lost Abbey is most certainly it. The space is more or less a warehouse and it makes no efforts to hide it. While we didn't tour the actual brewery (I believe they offered a tour but we arrived well past the time in which that was an option), it was easily visible in the open air environment of the brewery, and appeared to be fairly standard. In fact, it used to be Stone's house before they moved shop up the road, and they still utilize some of their old equipment while adding some new of their own.

I would happily accept some brewery's hand-me-downs. 

 The more appealing part, though, was the ragtag bar they had set up in the front. Utilitarian to an extreme, Lost Abbey's bar relishes in its bare-bones feel, but that's really part of its charm: concrete floors, an open loading bay door for natural light, barrels as tables, and seats that are, no exaggeration - bags of barley. It's not exactly comfortable but it's still pretty cool - I kind of imagine it's what a shipyard bar feels like. And over a couple of beers, you really don't mind. It's just fun.

Shabby chic is awesome when you have a buzz 

The bar itself offered samples of pints of Lost Abbey's impressively extensive beer list. Ranging from their hallmark Red Barn Ale (a very tasty ale with a flavor profile of summer, including citrus and ginger notes) to their version of the strong 10.5% beer wallop called, what else, Judgment Day (See? Remember what I said about over the top names?), there's plenty to try. Originally a local Californian brew, Lost Abbey has been spreading across the US at a pretty impressive rate - it should actually be easily available in the Northeast according to their handy website map - http://www.lostabbey.com/find-our-beers/beer-locator/. So, in short, yes, if you stumble upon a Lost Abbey six pack it's very much worth a try.

The only disappointing aspect of Lost Abbey was an apparent lack of...well, passion, from the girls running the bar. There was no denying that someone was putting love into their delicious beers - a banner hung overhead exclaiming, "In Illa Brettanomyces Nos Fides" - In the Wild Yeast We Believe, after all, but this passion was decidedly absent in the ladies running the front of the house. There was no interest in conversation at all, let alone any discussion about the beers they were serving me. I was certainly fine with entertaining myself with my parents, but it would have been nice to hear what they liked, which beers were their favorites, just anything. But instead I sort of felt like an inconvenience to them. Whatever, at least I had beer.










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Beer Tripping, Volume 1: San Diego, Part I

So, uh...there's a lot of beer out there. The craft beer phenomenon has truly exploded (perhaps too much so, but that's an essay for another time...), and the selection has become nothing short of intimidating. For those brewphiles out there, seeking out new beers to experience sort of becomes second nature. Some of it is readily available at your local generic sports bar (or, you know, grocer, CVS or book store if you're in California...). Or maybe you'll go to your local beer bar for a wider, more interesting selection. Or sometimes, if you're a bit adventurous, you go to the source. 


Brew Tours 101 


Brewery tours, for the uninitiated, are an absolutely fantastic way to spend an afternoon. Of all of the tours I have been on, this gist is largely the same: sign up for a time slot, go through a tour of the brewery, and then, as the grand finale, sample free beer. The limits of what and how much they give you tend to differ from brewery to brewery, but the general abstract remains the same: free beer. 


In general, it's most likely that you'll be able to check out a tour on a weekend, which means that a lot of people have the same exact idea. As such, weekends are obviously the busiest times for tours, and they tend to fill up quickly. So, check out the respective brewer's website and pick a tour time - there's usually anywhere from five to seven tours a day, depending on the size of the brewery - and show up an hour or two in advance.

Critics of brew tours (if they even exist, the jaded hypothetical bastards) might complain that every tour is more or less the same - "this is barley, these are hops, this is where the yeast ferments...," - and in many ways, that's true. It's definitely a How It's Made crash course that covers the bare basics of beer crafting- the basics never change. But, without fail, there are subtitles that you discern between breweries, whether it be the methods of brewing, ingredients, ideology, or a subtly different corporate spin, brew tours always manage to be a different trip.

So, then, allow me to share with one of such tours I had the excellent opportunity to experience.

Stone Ale Brewing
Escondido, CA
Beers encountered:
Stone Old Guardian Barley Wine, Stone Levitation Ale, Stone Pale Ale, Stone Smoked Porter, Stone IPA, Arrogant Bastard Ale, Oaked Arrogant Bastard Ale

The entrance lobby. "Stone" gives the interior decorator people a pretty solid direction to head in. 

Situated just a bit outside of San Diego, Stone Ale Brewery is sort of miraculous. A shining bastion of beer, a paradise of pale ale, a haven of hops, a...well, you get the point. Not to mention it was named one of the top breweries to visit in the US by Forbes. (http://www.forbes.com/sites/forbestravelguide/2012/02/16/ten-top-american-breweries-worth-a-visit/).

The place is pretty stellar.

Stone has a unique, devil-may-care branding that it completely owns. One of it's more potent concoctions - their tour-du-hops called Ruination- was briefly mentioned in my last post for adhering to a "we'll name it whatever the hell we want to" vibe. And it's only one such example. One of its staples and arguable calling cards is christened Arrogant Bastard, and the entire brewery exists without a marketing budget. That it subsists entirely on word of mouth is a grand testament to the quality of its beer. Or merely an interesting statement on how many people think it's HILARIOUS to tell people they bought you a beer "that totally fits your personality."

Brilliant. 

Taking what constitutes a typical brew tour and eclipsing it a few times over, Stone Ale Brewery is more of a Brew Resort (literally, actually...they're in the process of building of a hotel). Most breweries are relatively humble in their scale: a small bar with a host of the brewery's beer, a gift shop, and of course the admittedly expansive set up required to produce a national beer. Stone has all of that on top of a complete restaurant, terrace bar and garden.

What they don't tell you is that you actually have to hunt and kill the beer in its natural habitat. 

I embarked on this epic journey with my beloved and increasingly beer loving parents (a wondrous and valuable contribution to their lives if I may be so bold). We arrived two hours in advance, as per recommended by the website, and signed up for the 3 o' clock tour. That gave us plenty of time to develop a healthy buzz on the beautiful (stone) terrace. I had their Old Guardian barley wine - a high proof sipping beer that drank far easier than it should have and some pretty tasty soft pretzels to sop up a bit of the alcohol.

And by healthy buzz I mean, "I'm not sure I can handle a free beer tour after this"

From there the actual tour began. Stone keeps things tame by keeping the groups small - 25 people per tour - and arms their tour guide with a microphone. Ours is a short guy rocking Christ chic, and his passion and the thoroughness of his knowledge is undeniable. Hailing from a record store, he found the position on a Craigslist posting and was an absolutely perfect guide.

From there everything proceeds largely as planned, with a passing of the ingredients of a typical beer, a peek at the fermentation tanks, and an impressive explanations of the perils of pressing the emergency stop button. But, as I mentioned, things are different no matter where you go and Stone has its own manifesto it adheres to. Namely, "MORE HOPS."

Their reverence of the good plant is almost, well, arrogant - they pack more hops into their brews than almost anyone, but manage to do so in unique ways for each beer, so none of their selection taste particularly similar. They may exist on different levels (Levitation could be considered a beginner's version of Ruination, for example), but each is its own beer. In fact, at the tour's end, the samples given to us were given in order of increasing amount of hops. Still, even those avoid IPAs and the like the the floral grenades that they can be, could find something to like here (Mom, who regards hops as the source of that "glue taste" made it through 2 of the beers before bowing out). The beers are more sophisticated than others of the sort, and are certainly work experiencing. Arrogant Bastard is my personal favorite - a brazen amber color ale that bites pretty hard but has such a great flavor that you don't mind. 

Insert "Beer Jesus" joke here - the tour group certainly did. 

So, please. 

Go to San Diego area. It's phenomenal in its own right. But when you do, go to Stone Brewery. No matter what level of a beer fan you are, Stone Brewery is a gorgeous testament to the growing significance of beer in our culture. And I can't wait to experience it again. 

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A Beer Called Terrible

I can't wait to have my own craft beer. And it's not why you think.

Well, I mean, it is - the ultimate culmination of one of my passions, the chance to prove my knowledge beyond a few lines in a blog, a grand exploration of the art form that is being a beer meister, etc. and blah blah...

But the real reason I can't wait to have my own beer is because I really, really just want to come up with a name for one. 

I have a hunch that's a big part of fun for a lot of the little guys and medium sized breweries out there, if the names are any indication. Unlike most food and drink products out there, beer companies tend to go delightfully berserk with their packaging and naming (again, I'm sticking to the smaller batch stuff here -- the Goliaths of the beer world  obviously tend to adhere to the boring, rigid and by-the-numbers marketing that you'd affronted with on a daily basis), and it sort of makes it a lot more fun. 

My uninteresting name and packaging tells me you don't really care what I taste like. Sort of like when you're buying toothpaste. 

What's more, the name often tells you absolutely nothing about the beer itself. Sure, they may tack on "Ale" or "Lager" to give you a hint as to the direction you're headed, but beyond that, you're largely on your own. And that's sort of part of the fun, and is what makes randomly picking a fun looking bottle off the shelf such an enjoyable game of chance. 

My favorite example of this "We'll name it what we damn well please" phenomenon comes from the host of beers that host powerful, devastating, almost Biblical vernacular in their names. Ruination IPA from Stone Brewing. Fin Du Monde from Unibroue. Russian River's Damnation. Or, my absolute favorite: the "Stout of Morning Destruction," from Staple Mills. Tell me that's not one of the best names for anything ever. I dare you.

Granted, all of these may not-so-subtle nods to what their higher-than-usual ABVs could be doing to your general well-being, but I like to think their marketing meetings consisted something along of the lines of "I dunno, man, it just sounds f-ing cool." It also sort of suggests that the Apocalypse will come on a chariot of barley and hops (which I obviously welcome). 

"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy- AND DIE IN A FIERY BLAZE OF BEER DRENCHED JUDGMENT" - Ben Franklin 

But then, sometimes, there's an even more extreme scenario. After a long week of desperately trying to name their new beer, a brewery will just say "Screw it!," sweep their desks dramatically clean, wear their ties around their foreheads and call their beer "Terrible". 

Awesome. 

Terrible 

Unibroue, Chambly, Quebec, Canada

Dark Ale, 10.5% 

Pint bottle with cork 

From the people that brought us Fin Du Monde comes Terrible - "A beer that's anything but!" They don't actually use that slogan, thank whatever advertising deity you ascribe to, but inane as it sounds it's exceedingly appropriate. It's from Quebec, and their pronunciation of "terrible" is admittedly less awful sounding, but it still evokes a second look and perhaps a quizzical curiosity - which is maybe why I picked it off the shelf to begin with (marketing baffles me). But trust me. It's good stuff.  

Terrible is a dark ale that runs carefully through the host of your taste buds in a careful and articulately delicious order - sour, sweet and bitter - and appears to evoke many wine qualities, with its menagerie of subtle flavor hints that come together in a great way but leave you questioning exactly what you're experiencing with each sip. That sort of complexity isn't uncommon among French style beers - see my La Goudale post from a few months ago - but this one banks on the realm of exceptional. 

A not-so-subtle title belies the amazing, amazing nectar that lies within. 

It took a few sips (ok, FINE, two bottles...) to be sure, but I detected cherry, burnt notes and citrus melding into a very unique experience. It's unlike any beer you've ever had, of this I am certain. And best yet, it's reasonable in price at 8 bucks a bottle. I often hear talks of reasonably priced wine that could go toe-to-toe with pricier bottles, and I think Terrible is a fine parallel to that concept. It's one of the best beer experiences I've had (and, fine, it gave me a great buzz if you measure quality by that sort of unit). 

Highly recommended. 

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Ben's Pleasant Surprise: Holland's Heritage Collection

Hiatus over.

You may think that enjoying a wide variety of beer and dissecting is easy work and, well, it kind of is, really. But as is so often said, it is certainly very possible to have too much of a good thing, and beer has the pretty grand potential of being quite a contender for "Best Of" in that category.

My Christmas and New Years was sort of like that, if truth be told. I experienced a fantastic collection of beer - Affligem Noel, Corsendonk Christmas Ale, Sam Adams Infinium, and a wonderful bevy of others - but it took it's delicious, delicious toll. I felt, well, schlumpy. So much so that I didn't even write about anything for awhile, as you fine readers may have noticed (which I'm disappointed for - stick around til next Christmas will you? I promise to do a Christmas beer exposé that the "genre" of beer surely deserves). And thus, a brief interlude: a beer moratorium.

But clearly this was doomed to be a short interlude. You don't keep yourselves from your passions (unless it's like, you know, crack, or something. Don't be passionate about crack), and I don't want to keep myself from beer. Besides, it was my birthday...


When word gets out about how much you like something, esoteric or otherwise, people tend to latch on to that concept, and, for all foreseeable gift-giving opportunities, adhere to that as a protocol for what constitutes a thoughtful gift. And that's not to say it isn't, but it can be tough to escape. When she was little, my sister thought piglets were cute. Flash forward a decade or more later, and the poor girl has been inundated with the most absurd collection of adorable piggy products that a person could possibly want. The deluge has ebbed over the past few years, and that dead pig is thoroughly beaten, but it's an interesting testament to how quickly a heartfelt gift can become arbitrary.

Those in my general vicinity have been clued into my beer passion. And you know what? It's not nearly as bad as having 300 stuffed piglets.

Unless it's this one. I kind of want this one.

Given the variety out there there's a pretty decent chance they're going to get me something at least new and different (we're past the stage where I have to worry about getting a 30 pack of Bud, thankfully). But when someone who can't stand beer gives you a case of beer for your birthday, there's a natural knee-jerk reaction as to how this could possibly go.

Pretty, well actually.

Holland's Heritage Limited Edition Collection


My lovely roommate gave me a case of Heineken's Heritage Collection for my birthday, which was a thoughtful gesture, especially given her aversion to any and all beer. Honestly, on the scale of drinkable mass produced beers, Heineken ranks rather low in my opinion. The bizarre smell, can't quite place it after taste (ash tray? Maybe?), and sort of one-tone flavor mean it's not one of my favorites. And it apparently represents a quarter of Holland's beer heritage.

And this Light version is another quarter. Are you even trying, Holland?

But I called the collection a pleasant surprise, and I meant it. The pleasantness comes from the other half of this collection -Heineken's Taewebock Wheat Bock and Dark Lager. 


Tarwebok Wheat Bock 6.5% ABV

Perhaps the more unexpected of the two is the Tarwebok, a wheat bock. Bocks are traditional German beers, traditionally a bit stronger than your usual beer and at 6.5% this is just that. Heineken's version seems to hark the brewing styles of the Belgian masters, with a caramel color, medium body and distinct sweetness. 

The body isn't quite as thick as those of the Belgian variety, but it does have more "chuggability" than its inspiration. 

And it's a pretty decent facsimile of the "real thing," aside from one thing - it's so incredibly sweet. Belgian beers tend to be quite sweet, certainly, but they're often cut with a nice bitterness or some other flavor note that balances it a bit. That's not the case with Tarwebok. The first sip is pretty great, really, but the overwhelming sweetness really mars it by the end of the bottle. Congratulations if you can drink more than one in a row. I couldn't. 

That doesn't sound like a glowing review really, but I don't necessarily hate it; it was an unexpected experience to come out of a Heineken "variety" pack. I think it has the heart of some of the more sophisticated forefathers out there, but none of the finesse. It's flavor, while initially pleasant, steamrolls over your pallet and quickly becomes overwhelming. 

Heineken Dark Lager

Easily the best of the bunch, the Dark Lager is a smooth and very drinkable lager that evokes a bit of Guinness's body and burnt flavors with a bit more sweetness (they must have a surplus of sugar over there). It sort of seems similar to the Tarwebok in some ways, almost as if this was the starting point and then they went off the edge by prodding it and adding more than the beer needed. Which works fine, really; try a six pack if you see it. 

So have I converted my opinion of Heineken? Not particularly. But it was a nice surprise to see something something different and more interesting than their standard fare. 

Thanks for reading!

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Brother David's Double and the Trappist Investigation

There's nothing quite as consistently excellent as an Abbey Style beer. Sophisticated, delicious, warm (in, like, you know, a conceptual sense, not a temperature sense. They're best served at around 45 degrees), Abbey Style beers are beers that are firing on all of their little flavor cylinders and are sort of like celebrating how completely and entirely awesome a good brew is.

And why shouldn't they be? Their modus operandi is to emulate a recipe that came from the very cradle of good beer - Belgium. Notice how I say emulate- actually, we come to a fun little lesson with this one.

You know how the booze world is filled with little distinctions that qualify the origin and quality of a certain type of alcohol? Champagne is one thing but Sparkling Wine is...well, the same thing, really, but was created in another part of the world, namely not France? And only whiskey that comes from the United States can be called Bourbon? Abbey Style beers are sort of like that. Only, we're in the camp of "imitator" with Abbey Style beers. That is to say, Abbey Style Beers are unofficial replicas of beers brewed in the Trappist tradition.

So, what is a Trappist Beer? A holy concoction that is brewed using only ambrosia, fermented in the holy grail and blessed by a local Shaman? Well, if you've had one, you might swear that to be the case. But if you haven't, don't feel too bad about it- there's only seven official breweries creating Trappist Beers in the world. Six are from Belgium, and one is Dutch. Odds are you've heard of Chimay- that's one example of a Trappist beer.

Only beers with this underwhelming logo are truly Trappist. 

Why so elusive? Well, to be a Trappist beer, a beer needs to actually be brewed in a Trappist Monastery. By actual monks. The recipes are closely guarded secrets, and the sales of these beers are almost entirely charity-based; proceeds go toward the daily lives of the monks and the functioning of their monasteries. 

Thank you, sir, you have my adoration. I would love nothing more than to hug you.  Picture from wikipedia.

Taking a step back, there's a second distinction for other beers that, while not officially Trappist, are branded Certified Belgian Abbey Beers- beers that, while not Trappist, are:

1. Overseen in some part by an Abbey

2. Charitable in at least some part to said Abbey 

There are 18 of these types of beer, ranging from the obscure (Maredsous is one example, and one of my favorite breweries, please try it if you see it) to the almost common - Leffe Blonde is one you've probably heard of, and with good reason. It represents the "Abbey brand" of Stella Artois (a solid beer that is albeit considered the "Budwiser of Europe," and is owned by Inbev - the beer conglomerate and relatively new owner of Budweiser.)

So, now we have two levels of Monkish-ness-ocity: Trappist and Abbey Certified. That leaves us with the third: Abbey Style. By now we're probably relegated to the depressing third string, in the realm of karaoke singers and minor league towel boys, right? Well, not really.

Trappist beers truly are exceptional and they have absolutely nailed the essence of beer. But you know, there are people passionate about beer outside of Belgium, and their passion is a fine ingredient to have in their various brews. With said passion, it is entirely possible to create a beer that is every bit as delicious as their Trappist role models, regardless of the distinctive seals and logos (and, of course, without the charitable notions). Anderson Valley Brewing Company in particular has one fine example of this.

Brother David's Double 
Abbey Style/Strong Ale
9.0% ABV

Brother David's beer makes no efforts to hide the fact that it is recalling the Trappist tradition - it is called Brother David's, after all. The label is two-tone white and brown, there's a lil dude that looks vaguely like Breaking Bad's Walter White dressed in Monk garb, and the label informs me that it is brewed in "very limited quantities" in a "cloistered nook," it is clear what David is aiming for.

There's no Meth in it, but it is ADDICTING! (lol?) Picture from  beerstore.co.nz

For one, be wary- it doesn't taste or drink like a 9% ABV beer. It's thicker bodied but sweet enough to go down quickly. Crisp bitter chocolate fades into sugar cane; there's nothing particularly refreshing about this beer, and it's not meant to be. Sip it near a fire over a discussion with friends, if you're given that sort of opportunity. Or put it out for Christmas Eve. Just keep it away from your dad because HE TAKES FOREVER GETTING UP CHRISTMAS MORNING.

Either way, this beer is exceptional for this time of year (sorry Dad).

See you next week, everyone.

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Las Vegas Beer Life: Battle of the Pubs

I had every intention of writing an exposé on the beer life of Vegas, complete with a play-by-play of the various beers I encountered while I was there. But, yeah...Vegas has a way of, well, distracting you. "What happens in Vegas", and all that.

So while I didn't get to the point of leaving mattresses on rooftops or wandering out of a nightclub as the sun rose, I was frequently in no position to remember the actual name of every beer I was drinking, much less writing articulate notes about flavor profiles.

But that in and of itself is a significant point - Las Vegas is, like every city you'd like a chance to visit for a few days, is increasingly a beer city. That is to say, pretty much every single bar or restaurant not only had a beer list but an impressive one at that.  Sure, there was your typical host of the average brews, which seemed to be the only options available if you were playing table games (though I don't know for sure, I didn't try), but the restaurants certainly had brewskis like me covered.

So, while I may not remember every beer I had (one of them had a turkey on it? I think?) I say with some certainty I know where I went. Probably. Here were some of the highlights:

Todd English P.U.B - Public Urban Bar 
CityCenter
http://toddenglishpub.com/

Todd English P.U.B's very excellent bar. Picture from Vanrooy.

The first of two restaurants utilizing the self-titled naming scheme, Todd English PUB (Or Public Urban Bar if you prefer your restaurant names eye-rolly) was probably the culinary highlight of my trip. It's a great sort of environment, complete with all of the great bar staples like withheld lighting, exposed brick and polished brass, taken to another level of fancy flourish. It walks the line of fine dining and dive bar and lands somewhere completely different.

The menu features all of your bar menu staples - onion rings, soft pretzels, even pot pies and fish and chips - all taken to an exceptional new level you'd never expect of something deep fried.

And, oh yeah, there's a lot of beer. Not so many as the other Pub (we'll get into that in a minute), but the place does seem to relish in having a grand spectrum. From PBR (yes, they had PBR and, with a $6 pricetag, they treated it as some special beer gimmick that simply needed to be experienced, for some reason) to the elusive Chimay Cinq Cents (though it was out on draft, which almost ruined my entire trip in an instant).The menu also featured what they called "Beer Cocktails," concoctions that included two or more beers in lieu of a mixed drink. Most seemed too gimmicky to warrant a try in my opinion, but the rest of their selections more than made up for it.

Cleanly divided into simple categories such as "Crisp and Clean" and "Fruit and Chocolate," it was pretty easy to narrow in on what my mood dictated. I opted for a selection from the "Big Boy" section- more "advanced" beers with higher alcohol content - a fantastic Belgian Tripel beer called Bosteels Karmeliet, a medium-to-thick bodied beer with a great sweetness and balance that makes a perfect compliment to pretty much anything.

As an added bonus, all of their drafts are available in pitchers, too, though a pitcher of a Tripel isn't recommended unless you hate yourself and want to end your evening pretty quickly.

So there's not much to hate about P.U.B. It's a fantastic night out that feels both completely new while still being very familiar. It is, in many ways, the layman's fancy restaurant. Come for the beer, stay for the awesome mood and menu. Try the corndogs!

The Pub
Street of Dreams, Monte Carlo
http://www.montecarlo.com/restaurants/the-pub.aspx

The second place, again sporting the clever moniker "The Pub," doesn't try to be a fine dining establishment. No, The Pub, featured in one of Vegas's many indoor shopping "streets," called the "Street of Dreams" (which is an odd moniker, given that the other shops found here are an alcoholic slushie shop and a weirdly erotic candy shop, so I'm not sure whose dreams they're catering to) is quite content with being a very solid sports bar.

I had a great time watching the Ravens game here, and the tremendous space is riddled with a huge collection of screens with every possible game playing. It gets a bit confusing to hear intermittent rallies bursting out around the room, but it's kind of cool to be among such a wide variety of traveling sports fans from all over the country.

They don't make any attempts to be uppity, and while their nachos don't reach the next culinary level, The Pub features pretty darn good bar food. As a side note, I saw one man as I was leaving attempting to consume what could have only been one of those if-by-some-miracle-you-can-consume-this-in-an-hour-it's-free food challenges, so it's one of THOSE kinds of places.

As for their beer selection, though?

Great. Googly. Moogly.

Pictured: A mere fraction of their "We Have Pretty Much Every Beer Ever" Collection. Picture from Trip Advisor

While The P.U.B hosted a very impressive and well thought out beer collection, The Pub sort of brute forces it and features, well, pretty much everything. With literally hundreds of beers from every possible variety, their beer menu is nothing short of intimidating. But with some pretty exceptional menu organization, the flood of beer becomes a bit more manageable, though the huge list lends itself pretty well to frantically waving your finger over a page and picking out something random. Or, do what I did, and ask the waiter for what she thinks. I opted for a local brown ale that turned out to be pretty tasty.

And you'll want to keep the beer menu after your order is placed, if only because it makes some great reading, as each type of beer is given a succinct but very interesting description of what makes it what it is. The "oddities" here are especially fun; they have a $150 bottle of Chimay Reserve, for example, that was fun to talk about. There's also a mini beer "museum" near the front that features some of the more elusive and "important" beers from around the world (Read: Trappist Belgium).

So, which of the Pubs is better? They're too different to compare, despite their names, if you can believe it. Honestly, you need to do both.

If pompous French restaurants or stuffy steakhouses aren't your thing, then consider P.U.B for your fine dining training wheels, or start the night off there with a beer and order of onion rings at the bar. It's worth experiencing.

The Pub is the perfect place to watch your game of choice if you happen to be in Vegas for gameday, but it's also excellent for a beer enthusiast just to see the should-be-emanating-beams-of-light beer menu. It's the perfect place to be adventurous and try something you wouldn't otherwise.

Vegas is a beer lover's town. Who knew?





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La Goudale Blonde Ale

Last week I talked about France's knack for wine. That doesn't stop the country from venturing its culinary prowess into the realm of brewing beer, of course. And there's quite a few options out there that, while decidedly solid brews in their own right, tend to taste, well, incredibly French. La Goudale is one such beer.

La Goudale
Gebrouwen Door: Les Brasseurs de Gayant Brewery, Douai, France.
Blonde Ale, 7.8% ABV

They didn't even bother to translate the label. It's like Parisian Snobbery, bottled. 

I stumbled upon this guy in a grocery store (thanks again, California) among a small collection of unapologetically French beers. With nary a word of English on the entire bottle - save the typical government warning, of course - and a corked bottle, you feel compelled to save this one for a special occasion.

La Goudale "Biére  Blonde à l’Ancienne" (a "blond beer of old" - thanks freetranslate.com!) and I'm sort of confused by that label. I've had plenty of European beers in the "Old Style,"- like Duvel or Chimay- so I figured there would be some elements in this one that I could probably comfortably expect - a particular emphasis, for example, on fruity notes, or a caramel color and a medium body. But what I got was something rather more unexpected. And disappointing.

The "problem," with Goudale, is that somewhere during the brewing process its beermeisters sort of forgot they were making, you know,  a beer, and steered unabashedly in the direct of champagne. Somewhere through your first class you realize that this barely registers as a beer at all, and that's where Goudale the identity crisis comes in (or, if you prefer, "le crise d'identité"). 

I've already mentioned that I'm no wine connoisseur (more French!), so the assumption that I hold champagne in a similar regard is a fair enough assumption. But based on my limited champagne experience, all those things you associate with that champagne experience is here and accounted for. None-too-subtle dryness- check. Excessive bubbling - check. Hell, there's even a blossom on this beer - a brief moment when you first sip it that may or may not be notes of honey and caramel that quickly subside into a generic bite of bubbles and not much else. 

That's the problem here. It's all so stereotypical. I've had champagne style beers that were exceptional (Sam Adam's Infinium, for example, is brilliant, and needs to be at your next New Year's party, but we can get into that later), La Goudale seems to go "by the numbers" and doesn't do anything exceptional. Two seemingly incompatible worlds - champagne and a white ale - come together to create crazy results! It's like the Katherine Heigel RomCom of beer. 

And no one wants to drink that.

I

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