A Word With Brasserie Fantôme

After this summer’s Relentless Thirst rare and vintage beer tasting, a funny thing happened. The endless web of social networking had, unbeknownst to me, worked in my favor. When a friend posted a picture on his Facebook profile of a bottle of 2004 Pissenlit and tagged its creator as the label, the brewer himself commented on seeing such an old bottle floating around, no less thousands of miles away in the United States. As a result, I was able to ask a few quick questions of Dany Prignon, the man behind Brasserie Fantôme.

Dany Prignon founded Brasserie Fantôme in 1988 with his father in Soy (pronounced “swa”), Belgium. It all began with Saison d’Erezée Printemps, a seasonal beer for Spring, and continued from there. Prignon discovered an old family recipe for farmhouse ale that offered variations using local elements to suit the season. Now, this mysterious microbrewery’s beers have reached several shores, creating a buzz amongst beer lovers in countries as far away as Italy, the United States, Finland, and Japan.

With Fantôme’s popularity on the rise, Prignon has begun to experience a need to expand. He admits that the work is becoming too much for him to handle by himself and that, after all, he “needs Euros to pay the bills.” Ever the experimentalist, he plans to release a very special barrel-aged beer that should be ready at some point next year.

According to Dany, a typical Fantôme beer will spend about five to seven days in primary fermentation, one week cooling, one week in the bottle to undergo secondary fermentation, and one week to let the beer stabilize and condition. Of course, there are the spices and additives that the brewery is famous for, which he protectively calls “a ghost’s secrets.”

Prignon explained that the brewery took its name from the legend of Countess Berthe of Érezee, who some say haunts a nearby castle, to reflect his particular region of Belgium. Despite being at the geographical epicenter of avant-garde brewing, Dany laments the state of beer and brewing today. “After 20 years, I find the same elements in a lot of beers. How about some originality please?”

As many beer lovers are already aware, Fantôme delivers that in full. With everything from honey, pepper, cocoa (and in one seasonal, what almost tasted like dill!) included in his portfolio of beers, Prignon is not afraid to experiment, and has made a few mistakes in his day. But for the most part, he continues to churn out delicious, one-of-a-kind beer that puts Soy on the map and adds Fantôme to Belgium’s long list of fantastic breweries.

Or should I say, phantasmic?

Made in North Carolina

Back in March, I created a brief blurb about the explosive growth of locally brewed beer in Asheville, North Carolina, and the support it’s received from a relatively small but adamant populace. With potentially four more brewing operations opening there in the very near future, don’t be surprised if Asheville takes the crown for best beer city in America. Recently, I got a chance to survey the landscape of our beer-loving neighbors to the south a little further when a friend from Asheville brought with him some fresh growlers from some prominent regional breweries.

The first one to get to my glass was Belgian Abbey from The Wedge, an Asheville staple. This one had a ruby-rust color to it, opaque and with a minimal head of soapy bubbles after the initial rush of carbonation, likely due to its growler format. In the nose, there was the scent of fructose, honey, and candi sugar that rode over top its inherent chocolate brown malt features. The carbonation was noticeable on the palate, but didn’t detract from the taste. Overall, it was an easy-drinking affair that faded semi-sweet in the finish, and kept me topping up once the glass got too empty.

As luck would have it, I was fortunate enough that my pal also brought along Foothills Brewing’s People’s Porter from Winston-Salem. I’m a sucker for a good porter, especially at this time of year. People’s poured nearly pitch black, showing off hints of mahogany and a deep beige head. Roasted malt and coffee notes took center stage, and a base of bittersweet chocolate drew me in. The introduction was deceiving. Though this beer comes in gently, it kicks up to a crescendo where the roasted malt flavor comes dangerously close to being astringent. The finish dries out, partly from a grain husk profile, but the body is divine. As each sip builds to a near syrupy thickness, it fades just as quickly in the end.

Lastly, I sipped Whiskey River IPA from Catawba Valley Brewing Company in Morganton. Some of you that know me or at least know some entries on this blog comprehend that I’m not a hop-head, nor am I a big proponent of barrel aging – especially when it comes to IPAs. The method reached a fever pitch with brewers oak aging just about any damn thing they made, which yielded undrinkable results. Naturally, I was hesitant to even try this beer. But I quickly learned that this was unreasonable.

Whiskey River IPA was suprisingly balanced, albeit different. To me, oak and hops don’t necessarily make the best combination, but when done right this type of aging can add depth without ruining the whole beer. The pour revealed a clear, goldenrod brew that disturbed me at first sniff. There was that oak note, but it wasn’t as prevalent as I was expecting, and it proved itself on the tongue to be quite delicious. I wouldn’t recommend just anyone oak aging an IPA, or any beer for that matter. But if you do it right, the outcome can be complex and different. And there’s always room for that in the beer world.

As for North Carolina’s brewery scene, I must say that I’m quite impressed. Having tasted beers from breweries all across the state, I can testify that their love of beer shows and it speaks for the market’s support of these local institutions. If you happen to pass through Carolina or, like me, have a friend that can score you some of this stuff, I’d highly recommend giving these breweries a shot.

Chronicles of a Homebrewer

Things haven’t been all quiet on the homebrewing front, I’ve just been neglecting to sit down and actually pen something about my recent adventures. But I’d like to use this space to provide you with an update regarding recent goings-on in my brewing laboratory kitchen.

At the beginning of August I had a hankering for some easy-drinking, thirst-quenching Best Bitter. So naturally I brewed a batch to sustain me well into the fall. Personally, I’m a huge fan of Maris Otter malt and opted for that as the base, with a half-pound Victory included for some biscuity complexity in the grain bill. Having procured some whole leaf Amarillo hops through Legend Brewing, I was able to dry hop that sucker in primary for a week, giving it a soft touch of floral hop goodness. So far, so good. It has served me well through September and into October, hitting the mark for what I was intending to do.

But with the weather changing over, it won’t be long before I’ll be switching gears. In September, I whipped up a batch of Belgian Dark Strong Ale with a healthy dose of dark and light candi sugar. This ended up giving me a starting gravity of over 1.100, and it was showing activity in the airlock a month after I pitched the yeast. The other night I racked into secondary to get it off the trub, and have some devious plans to spice and/or oak a portion of my creation, which will hopefully be ready around the holidays.

In keeping with the cold weather motif, this weekend, in collaboration with a friend of mine, I reverted to the old ways and brewed an extract beer. Despite the connotations that some of these beers may have in all-grain circles, this one is anything but boring. Essentially, it’s a Winter Warmer brewed with honey, figs, hazelnuts – and a little special malt from a well-known distillery in Scotland.

We set out to make a beer that was essentially a blank canvas, very light in character so that all the additions we’ve put into it can have their moment on the palate. It’s also something that we’re hoping will finish dry and retain drinkability due to the adjuncts. If anything, it’ll be complex; we’re hoping more than anything else that it’ll be good.

We have henceforth dubbed it: Figgy Stardust!

A Word With Schneider & Sohn

So I didn’t talk to the actual Georg Schneider or his son, but a while back I did get to sit down with the brewery’s Director of Export Sales and Biersommelière Susanne Hecht. One of the few female certified beer sommelieres in the world, Hecht has been with Private Weissbierbrauerei Schneider & Sohn ever since taking a part-time position tending bar at the brewery while studying in college. A native of Kelheim, the Bavarian town where Schneider consolidated their brewing operations in 1944, Hecht went on to graduate from the sommeliere program at the Doemens Academy in Munich.

In the mid-nineteenth century, it was a royal privilege to brew and sell wheat beer. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, Georg Schneider I was able to purchase the right to brew wheat beer, even as it was waning in popularity. The Reinheitsgebot of 1516 was initially established to preserve grain, primarily wheat and rye, that was preferable to barley for baking bread, thus preventing price competition. Wheat beer brewers, however, were later granted an exception from the original law in the seventeenth century.

Today, Schneider still prides itself on conformity to the Reinheitsgebot as a symbol of purity. When I inquired as to whether or not the brewery considered breaching the Reinheitsgebot to be daring, Hecht replied, “There’s so much you can do within the law, as you can tell by the diverse beers Schneider produces.”

The focus is, and always has been, on wheat beer. “Our only goal is to make the best wheat beer possible. We try to innovate, but also try to respect tradition.”

Mixed in with that tradition is a fresh approach to operating a brewery. Hecht informed me that Schneider was looking to source more of its raw materials for brewing from Bavaria, become as energy independent and efficient as possible, and develop healthy, productive relationships with farmers in the region.

“The climate here can be harsh at times, and more protein [in the wheat] can lead to a harsher beer. However, we are working hard to find hearty wheat that can be grown in Bavaria.” Currently, much of their wheat comes from the Champagne region of France, and quality control is of the utmost importance. When asked if Schneider would switch to wheat that could be grown locally but would alter the taste, Hecht was adamant in her response. “Rule number one at Schneider is to preserve the taste. Without that, we would no longer be brewing Schneider.”

Talking strictly numbers, Hecht confided that Franziskaner produces about four times as much wheat beer as they do, and Erdinger about twenty times more. Schneider & Sohn’s present capacity is 300,000 hectoliters, or roughly 7.9 million gallons of beer per year. “If we wanted to produce a million hectoliters a year, we couldn’t continue open fermentation and bottle conditioning practices. Economically it wouldn’t make sense.”

In spite of commercial limitations, Georg Schneider VI continues the tried and true methods that his family has cultivated through the generations. “He decided that slow growth is okay, and that he would not compromise the taste by expanding too quickly,” said Hecht. As an example, she told the story of certain establishments having carbonation issues when pouring their beer. A test was conducted with the brewmaster and employees to see if reduced carbonation would help servers and bartenders deal with foaming. It was decided that the CO2 volumes could not be changed, because it would take too much away from the traditional taste of the original Schneider Weisse.

Following up on her comment about Franziskaner and Erdinger, I noted that here in the United States, or at least in Virginia, we see much more Schneider in stores and bars than from the other famous wheat beer producers. With a smile, she replied, “in a specialty market, you will always see more Schneider.”

This holds true for their sales figures. Switzerland is Schneider’s largest export market, while the United States and Austria oscillate between second and third. Lately, the brewery has seen the most growth in Italy and Russia, and is working to enter the markets of Eastern Europe and Asia, particularly India.

One beer produced by Schneider that has really stuck with (and delighted) me over the years is the Brooklyner-Schneider Hopfen Weisse collaboration between Garrett Oliver and Hans-Peter Drexler. Although the traditional facet of Schneider & Sohn was expressed repeatedly, I still wanted more information on any potentially off-the-wall future releases from the two brewing legends. Sadly, Hecht indicated that nothing was in the pipeline.

But she did offer some glimmer of hope about the pair, so take it for what it’s worth. “They email, they meet… maybe there’s something else happening. You never know.”

On “Gifting” and Beer Journalism

Yesterday’s edition of the Wall Street Journal featured a front-page article explaining the Federal Trade Commission’s crack-down on private companies donating “gifts” to bloggers. The quotations are employed for effect, because one man’s “gift” is another’s “marketing tool.”

It’s plainly obvious that the goal of these gifts is to generate a buzz about a product through the various channels that the internet provides. It’s a quick and easy way to get more eyes focused on whatever you’re selling, and it’s a smart move. That being said, so is spam – and that’s annoying as hell.

A survey conducted by Technorati indicated that 82% of bloggers occasionally or frequently post product or brand reviews. Businesses and individuals have blogs, and at times it can be difficult to differentiate the two.

The cornerstone of good journalism, like government, is transparency; that is, not hiding any connection the author may have to their subject matter or the source of complimentary items that appear in their work. But while most traditional media in the United States has been regulated in this manner for decades, especially in-house by respectable publications, the practice is lost in the digital age. Within the no-holds-barred world of blogging and social networking, you may never be quite sure who to trust.

I’ve felt that all along I’ve tried to keep some basic journalistic principles evident on this meager publication, despite being a mere blogger. I often offer disclaimers whenever something has been given to me gratis, like a ticket to see the Beer Wars movie.

So for regular readers and those of you who have just stumbled across this article, I’ll put some more of my cards on the table. In the top left corner of the sidebar, I’ve placed an advertisement. That link was put there because I was recently contacted by the folks at MakeBeer.net, who sell homebrewing supplies. Obviously, there is a connection to the products since I am a homebrewer and beer blogger. But it’s your right to engage or ignore that tiny portion of the screen. The idea behind it was to be able to, in some small way, support my beer buying habits, coverage of events, and homebrewing material. To date, I haven’t made a dime from it.

I don’t place text ads with others fiddling with my content or including their own. This is my blog and my blog alone, as sad as that is. While some blogs, Twitter accounts, Facebook pages, etc. are geared toward confusing online readers into clicking links or buying products they don’t want or need, I choose not to do so.

Let me also say that I have received a few free beers to review for the blog. I have tried to give them as honest a review as I could while avoiding libel in favor of constructive criticism, and that hasn’t always been the best for a particular beer’s image. Such an approach could hinder my access to the beer world, but I still think it’s ultimately to the benefit of the consumer. I may lose some friends for that, but I think most industry types understand how capitalism works – they don’t take it personally and they try to get the best products they can to the market.

The fact that the better beer niche has grown from a tiny nucleus to a nationwide phenomenon is reflective of how its coverage has evolved; from a close-knit community to one that has grown exponentially without a lot of scrutiny. This increasing self-evaluation appears to be a relatively new trend, and a healthy one.

What was once a blip on the radar is now booming; craft beer has made its presence known, at least for the time being. Perhaps it’s impossible to offer any real insight on a product that revolves so much around perception. But then again, don’t most products involve this to some degree?

However, free products shouldn’t get a free ride. Even online, you can spot a phony when you see one. Other times, it’s not so clear. But one aspect of the beer blogging that makes it ripe for the picking is the constant cheerleading.

It’s nice to spread the Gospel according to Beer, but in the end, that does little to help the consumer. Which is exactly what the FTC is trying to do by stepping in and regulating online industry.

Imagine for a moment that you are brand new to specialty beer. The selection at your local bar or beer store may be overwhelming and confusing. One quick option is turning to the internet for guidance. But you may have no real frame of reference if “all craft beer is good and helps spread the word.” When we don’t even have a definition of what makes a beer “craft,” how can it all be good?

Personally, I like to know what I’m getting myself into. Sure, I’ve bought beer that someone recommended, and I didn’t like it. But I was able to discover what I liked through the learned observations of others, and was therefore able to avoid disasters like Cave Creek Chili Beer. I was also able to form my own opinions about the beer I was buying. This has helped me maintain my curiosity for new releases and gleefully revisit old favorites, while keeping a critical eye on the market.

Now more than ever, the consumer must be savvy. But even moreso, the author should be earnest.

Blind Tiger Ale House

Amidst the bustling streets of Manhattan lies a beer oasis of sorts, a place to go when you’re sick of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with complete strangers on the street and would prefer sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with complete strangers drinking good beer. If you happen to find yourself in Greenwich Village, the Blind Tiger provides such an escape.

After meandering the streets of SoHo, we decided to take a much-needed break from the crowds. Well, as much of a break as we could muster anyway. Inside, the Tiger offers the feel of almost any other American corner bar with a great beer selection, which was why it was so inviting compared to its environs.

Things started picking up just after we arrived, during Happy Hour. But I just didn’t want to vacate the place, at least not without another glass of Leipziger Gose. Originally I had started out with an Elysian Dragon’s Tooth Stout, and was amazed and delighted to find that brewery on the East Coast. We struck up a conversation with a couple of natives, both interesting yet sincere characters.

In fact, we met several nice people while staying there, and that surprised me. Normally you think of New Yorkers as being too busy or cool-guyed-out to give you the time of day. This was a welcome abolishment of that stereotype. Both the Blind Tiger, and its patrons helped put a more human face on the steel-gray image that out of towners often think of when New York City comes to mind.

If you find yourself wandering the avenues of New York, becoming sick of the ungodly numbers of people swirling around you, duck into the Blind Tiger. You won’t regret it. And you may not want to leave.

The Tragically Hip(ster)

New York City. Countless words have been penned about the Big Apple, to the point it’s almost passe to even mention the place. Sipping on a Sixpoint Eight Days o’ Wheat that was poured straight from the tap into a growler just a day ago, I look back on my brief time spent there with both wonder and contempt.

Without being able to sample before I purchased at the Whole Foods on Houston Street, I opted for the Sixpoint offering seeing as how I had yet to try anything from their brewery, but have heard great things about their beer. It’s a densely hazy, somewhat muddled rusty orange American Wheat beer – a lot going on but not much to it, yet it keeps me coming back. This couldn’t be a more perfect analogy for the city itself.

When you think about it, New York has so much happening at once, so many things that just collide into one another, that it’s hard to get a grip unless you try and zone everything else out. Which is damn near impossible. Believe me, I’ve been there before.

By the same token, there’s not much to it, really. You’ve got commerce buzzing about you, tourists on their own breath-taking and perhaps disappointing traipses around the city, and incredibly ugly architecture.

You want to know why people love Europe? There’s your answer. Even though some European cities can be dirty as hell, at least there’s something pretty to look at while you’re there. New York is a take-it-or-leave-it kind of town. Warts and all.

It may come as no surprise to some of you that craft beer is becoming hip. I’ve seen it on the streets of New York and Richmond, and can only imagine all the other metropolitan areas of the country adopting the same stance. It’s another counter-culture expression, yet oddly, mainstream. It’s taking something that has been a silently churning movement for quite some time and harnessing its potential to transform obscurity into cool points.

For example, the bloke behind the counter at Whole Foods was so coolly detached it defied belief. Did he know much about beer? I’m not sure, because it seemed as though he couldn’t be bothered, other than to chat up his cohort about the recent Sunny Day Real Estate reunion show at Terminal 5. (Old people and foreigners, don’t worry. Just know that it’s an indie music culture reference, one with which I have a personal connection.)

Regardless, I got the feeling that my own, sad obsession with beer had become this guy’s latest fashionable accessory. Seems we could’ve been on opposite ends of the planet, even though I always manage to make beer a topic of conversation with most everybody I meet. That social, egalitarian aspect of beer I often try to cultivate now seems to have evolved into a form of elitism that I couldn’t have imagined coming from the hipster set. We may yet see the day that RateBeer and Arab Parrot become one.

If all of this seems to be one giant bum-out, fear not. I had a great time hitting up some amazing culinary delights with my resident friends all over Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Long Island. And amidst the hustle and bustle of navigating the city proper when my girlfriend and I were wandering on our own, there was actually a bright spot. Its name? The Blind Tiger.

More to come on that soon.

Oktoberfest Uncertainty

So, it’s Oktoberfest. That magical time of year where throngs of tourists gather in Munich to celebrate the marriage of Crown Prince Ludwig I and Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen drink deeply from their maßkrugs and pray to the patron saint of hangovers that they’ll make it out alive the next morning. Which is fine, I’m not here to rain on anyone’s parade. But as any beer-minded person knows, the festbier served by the Munich big six leaves much to be desired, and is not the rich, amber Märzens we Americans are so fond of.

Now, why go all the way to Munich when you can pick up a case of the light lager that is modern-day festbier or hit one of the many Oktoberfest events happening in the Richmond area? Like St. Patrick’s Day, Oktoberfest has evolved from a small feast into a giant festival, with many satellite celebrations joining in on the fun. I’m just not sure what we’re celebrating this day and age.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to tie one on when I can, and I’m not taking any moral high road by looking down on anyone enjoying themselves at these events. Moreso, I’m asking a bigger question, one that involves a lot of speculation and several subsets, but may hold some truth. What does our culture, and specifically our beer culture, say about us?

Are these larger celebrations: Oktoberfest, Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick’s Day, New Year’s Eve… are they nothing more than release valves for a pent-up Western society? Is this our way of lashing out? Are these our appropriate Joe Wilson moments, when most everyone gets a pass because we’re all letting off steam together? Are these larger events just a culmination of our other end-of-the-workweek benders?

I have a feeling that, in this day and age, we’re yearning for the communal experience that has, for the most part, become a memento. That would explain the proliferation of social media, which no doubt has its pros and cons. As I type, I’m ultimately reaching out to you, wherever you are, from behind a computer screen. But perhaps it’s that face-to-face interaction, even with drunken strangers, that makes us feel more like humans and less like Facebook profiles. Or maybe these events serve as the tippler’s “Tea Party,” a venue for misdirected anger, a pressure valve that lets us forget about our troubles for a short, blurry time.

Sorry to get all “human condition” on you. Just some food for thought, as I may be guilty of some of these things as well. Today, I think I’ll reflect on them over crafting a batch of homebrew, rather than at the Oktoberfest tents.