A Disturbing Trend

Ever been to Sam’s Club? I’m sure nearly everyone in the US has at least once. Even if it was Costco with your cousin one time five years ago, you’d still be able to keep up here. For those who have lived in a hole since, I don’t know, the 90s, these places are mega-stores. Almost anything imaginable is available in this warehouse chocked full to the ceiling with pallet-loads of items, meaning in bulk. Most of this stuff only comes in packages large enough to feed the Waltons (no pun intended… but now that I think about it, that’s a pretty good one. Get it? Owners of Wal-Mart, TV show… alright I’ll stop). Regardless of your opinion of these places, they’re huge and so are their products, and even though they’re member-based, I don’t doubt that they take in enormous amounts of revenue each year.

So what does all this have to do with beer? If you enjoy shopping at the aforementioned establishments, almost nothing. Except for the fact that their beer section seems to be expanding.

Now, as a single guy with no dependents, I don’t have much of a need to shop here or become a member, due to the fact that I’d have to eat one thing nearly every day in order to get some use out of it. However, I stopped in today with some co-workers of mine who were picking up items for their families. Whilst perusing the aisles rather aimlessly, I stumbled upon the beer section.

Cases of Budweiser, Coors Light, the usual suspects, were dirt cheap. No surprise. Yuengling and Michelob Holiday Mix Packs were on sale. Okay. Then, I spy that 15-can packs of Guinness are roughly $17. Interesting. Widmer Hefeweizen and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale sat stacked and ready to go. Getting warmer. Then, standing there stunned in disbelief, I spot cases of Starr Hill Amber Ale! This microbrewery just outside Charlottesville has distribution in Sam’s Club of all places?! What exactly is going here?

Apparently, this is nothing new. A while back there were rumors floating around that Rogue’s Dead Guy Ale was available at Costco, supposedly for a limited time. The guys over at Wine & Beer Westpark were pretty agitated, to say the least, and later Matt even posted a YouTube video expressing their frustration over Rogue’s decision (but still agreed to carry their products because they enjoy them so much). It didn’t help that Costco was located right across the street, and this move appeared to be a salvo launched in their direction.

Come to find out, it was true. People who would never have even guessed to try this stuff, which from what I hear is Rogue’s flagship beer, would now be able to buy it by the case in a national chain mega-store. Being a specialty beer guy, my heart went out to our local purveyors of fine ales and lagers. I later found out from Matt that Rogue and Costco had locations near each other and had been talking about a one-off, see-what-happens kind of deal. Furthermore, part of this took place because, it’s rumored, the guys at Costco liked Dead Guy so much, they wanted to give it a go in their stores.

But today’s experience got me thinking about several things:

1. Does this bode well for craft brewers and getting their products to a larger audience?
2. Does this mean that smaller operations will have a chance to grow, that larger operations will make better beers, both, or neither?
3. Could this be a corollary of a market that’s growing (read: potentially profitable trend), but at the same time struggling with environmental yields that are necessary for production?

Firstly, I believe this to be a double-edged sword. As much as I love the idea of more and more people being able to access craft beer, I dislike the idea of losing quality, variety, or even the rare glimpse of a highly-touted beer from a brewery that doesn’t distribute in my area. These are all things to consider for the burgeoning business of brewing. I feel that some companies can do a good job at maintaining the aforementioned characteristics, while others fall victim to the profit motive. I guess this double-edged sword’s being used to slice up a wait-and-see pie.

Second, I do believe this will open up a small window of opportunity, but for a select few. Brands that will be able to market themselves appropriately to get the backing of large distribution firms will thrive, while others will be left in the dust, facing rising costs for malt and hop in the next few years. As for larger outfits putting out better beer, that remains to be seen. Many cite the success of Blue Moon, under the Coors (now MillerCoors) portfolio, but I’ve read that these parent companies may actually try to distance themselves from their subsidiaries to somehow keep the image of a tiny, hard-working microbrewery from being tarnished. I’m not a huge fan of Blue Moon, to be honest (I know, taste is subjective), and while I’d call it a “better” beer, that only means better compared to the company’s other offerings. And who knows, this stuff could go the way of Pete’s Wicked Ales a couple years down the road, depending upon the public’s perception, which includes what they’re willing to pay and the image they’re hoping to buy into.

Lastly, yes. This is a growing sub-sector of the beverage market, and the top brewing conglomerations around the world are realizing this. Now everyone can have their beer. You like cheladas? Sure, we’ll put one out. Want a Belgian-style white that tastes like it has orange syrup in it? You got it! All because we’re hip to what the contemporary beer drinker enjoys. Or whatever we can sell you on. Still craving the ice-cold refreshment of a “banquet beer” that hasn’t changed, and neither should you? Yeah, we’ll put that out, too, just so you can sit back and laugh at all those “weirdo” Blue Mooners while sipping on Rocky Mountain freshness that might actually be brewed in Shenandoah, Virginia.

Don’t cue the music. I know I’m rambling, but I’m on a roll that’s about to end, so bear with me here.

Further on in my little Sam’s Club wandering, I came upon an rather conspicuous package of beer in a strange tin tub. After looking on all sides of the packaging, all I could find out about this stuff is that it was a collection of “traditional” beer, entitled “Beers of America,” that celebrated our country’s proud tradition of brewing. And, they’ve been around for a while. But who the hell brewed ‘em?

Recently the Alström Brothers over at BeerAdvocate wrote an editorial in the November edition of BA Magazine entitled “Tell Us The Truth.” One section on contract brewing stuck out, where they issued not-quite an edict, not-quite a plea, regarding knowledge of the actual brewery’s whereabouts. Apparently, the Beers of America could be brewed by several different companies, with marketing companies, somewhere in… America.

All these factors seem to fit together in the sense that, by having some companies capitalize on a growing trend, we may not know who brews our beer, who actually owns it, what goes in it, and what it’s all about. How does that help anyone truly soak up the experience of drinking a well-crafted beer?

Something tells me that’s not part of the plan, just merely part of a disturbing trend.

A Beer With The Old Man

Olde Towne Portsmouth is a cozy, quaint, and beautifully historic area; it’s also one I rarely visit when in Hampton Roads. But something had recently been bothering me: the fact that I had never been to the Bier Garden.

The Thanksgiving holiday was rather busy for me, though. Relatives had come in from out of town, old friends needed visiting, and there was plenty of food to be eaten. Luckily, I had enough time to stop by the Tap House Grill in Norfolk, an eclectic little beer bar that I’ve taken a shine to. But one night, I had mentioned getting over to Portsmouth to check out this highly-rated establishment. Due to planning constraints, I ended up nixing the idea.

Then came Friday. I had considered going by myself, just for a pint, but didn’t have enough personal motivation to get off the couch and out of my leftover-induced coma. That is, until, my father told me to get my coat, he’d take me out there for a drink.

I don’t ever recall actually sitting down and having a beer with my dad. I’m fairly young, sure, but I don’t seem to even remember him with a drink in his hand, ever. I know he did drink when he was younger, but now he almost completely shies away from the stuff. He never was a craft beer or spirits connoisseur by any means, but he knows that I enjoy a good beer, so he indulged me.

For one thing, Bier Garden doesn’t carry much in the way of non-alcoholic beer. After asking for a Warsteiner N.A. and finding out that they were out of stock, he settled for an iced tea. I, on the other hand, went for the Rochefort 8, which was of course, excellent. But what made it even better was the fact that I could sit down with my dad, sip on a great Belgian, shoot the shit about beer and why I like it so much, and just get away from the swirling world of hungry relatives and frenzied shoppers.

It didn’t matter that he went with an iced tea. In a sense, we did share a beer, and some quality time, together. That’s one more reason I love this libation.

Werks For Me

From Richmond to the Hampton Roads area, which is a distance of about 100 miles, the main thoroughfare is Interstate 64. About halfway in between lies the city of Williamsburg, home of the College of William & Mary, the Green Leafe, and of course, Busch Gardens theme park, which is conveniently placed next to the Anheuser-Busch plant (go figure).

But just off Route 199, is another Williamsburg brewing institution that’s worth a look. While it’s probably not even a fifth the size of its neighbor, I’d say it has way more charm, and better beer. Taste is subjective, obviously, but there’s enough quality beer to taste over at Williamsburg AleWerks to warrant a visit or two.

Located in an industrial park on Ewell Road, this tiny little brewery was on my list of stops as part of my week off from work. After receiving a brief history of the brewing process and the origins of beer, and being able to get a whiff of some chocolate and pale malt as well as some dried hop pellets, we made our way inside to the base of brewing operations.

They had just finished bottling some of their Rapadou Imperial Porter, which includes Haitian sugar as one of its ingredients, so the place was a bit untidy, but nothing too out of order, just a little beer on the floor. I had previously enjoyed other offerings from their Brewmaster’s Reserve series, the Ironbound Imperial IPA and the Wolfe’s Trap Ale; needless to say, I picked up two bottles of Rapadou and a bottle of the Grand Illumination, since they’re part of the fall BR releases. You can even register your individually numbered bottle online and let them know your thoughts on the beer as well.

While walking through the small but cozy brewery, the first thing that stuck out was the mash tun. Williamsburg AleWerks uses a more complicated brewing system that has its roots in England: a 25 barrel, bricked exterior Peter Austin model. Other breweries like Shipyard and Geary’s use these systems, which Allan Pugsley introduced to the States. Seems like a perfect fit for a brewery located in an area mostly known for its colonial past.

Anyway, I got a good glimpse at the place’s bottling process, an idea of their output and plans for the future, and I also found head brewer Mike Pensinger to be a personable guy and a gracious host. But I think the most important thing I walked away with, and something that I think all lovers of craft beer should keep reminding themselves of, is that it’s all about the effort and care that is put into the final product. Even though I’m a member of a website that allows its users to review beer and offer their insights, many don’t take the time to stop and think that this is a labor-intensive process which requires a certain amount of skill, and some luck, to make something that is to be savored. I’m guilty of that at times, but visiting Williamsburg AleWerks helped refresh my memory and reminded me of the noble tradition of brewing that we’re so fortunate still carries on to this day. Guys like Mike help keep this whole thing alive.

I don’t mean to get up on a soap-box or anything, so I’ll leave it at that. But to sum up, I’d say to support your locals, continue supporting craft brewers (because with the way the hop and malt market is looking, they need die-hard beer geeks now more than ever), and take the time to truly appreciate all the work that goes into your beer. We can all use that reminder from time to time.

Frankly, I don’t think Mike could’ve said it any better: “We don’t do it for the money. We do it because we love it.”

Finding The Golden Gose

Ever walk into a beer store, spot an outrageous looking bottle that you’ve never seen before, and just decide, “hell, what’s the harm in buying this thing, right?” As a beer enthusiast, I’m always seeking out something I’ve yet to taste, even if the results are disappointing. But more often than not, these gambles pay off, because regardless of the subjective look at taste, the experience of trying something new is often times more important. Here’s my take on Gasthaus & Gosebrauerei Bayrischer Bahnhof’s Leipziger Gose.

First off, this beer has a very sleek and appealing 25.4oz bottle presentation, albeit dark green (not sure how that holds up against light intrusion), with a satisfied-looking German man wiping his lips, presumably after quaffing a first glass of Gose and moving on to a second. Being my first, I’ll have to take his word for it before actually tasting it. A moderate pour yields over two fingers of noisy, fizzy head into a weizen glass, and it seems to dissipate fairly quickly, without much lace or fanfare. Color is a translucent, dull gold/orange, reminiscent of a field of grain.

Quite grainy in the nose, actually, with a spicy backbone to it that is similar to a hefeweizen: some clove, perhaps a hint of banana and other fruity esters, but with an overall musty yeast character that seems to dominate. Citrus and honey notes are present as well, but all others walk in the shadow of the yeast. Complex seems like an understatement.

At first sip, tart apple immediately comes to mind, and while asserting itself in the introduction, does not overpower or carry for too long. Very similar to a Flemish tartness, but very mellowed and blended in with the other fruit flavors of a German wheat beer. As the tartness fades, the apple comes to the forefront, with the spice kicking in as this happens, around mid-palate and carrying toward the finish. A lemony citrus kick is also present here, and the grainy malt presence closer to the introduction seems to become more pronounced as the beer warms, smoothing out the flavors and fading gently. Aftertaste is as calm as can be, with the tart apple and citrus hanging around for a moment, but dying out softly.

In terms of mouthfeel, carbonation is low and not in the way; this, too, resembles its German hefe cousin. Light-bodied with a faint, oily hop feel, in conjunction with the spices present, that leaves a thin residue on the palate. Definitely mild, though, which I think fits rather well.

As previously mentioned, this is my first foray into the world of Gose. Be that as it may, I was rather impressed by the complexity of character in the flavor profile, which certainly did not lack depth or distinction, but also remained rather moderate, in terms of not letting one specific characteristic outweigh the others on the palate. Combined with a light body and aromatic bouquet, this was quite the treat, especially seeing as how I had never had one. Impressive, to say the very least, which made me glad that I had purchased the larger bottle and took a gamble on Gose.

In The Meantime

While malty beer and coffee are two flavor profiles that certainly aren’t strangers to one another, it seems as though lately the art of brewing these elixirs is improving, and that brewers are taking detailed steps in order to perfect them. Last evening I sat down with a shapely looking bottle of Meantime Coffee Porter, and decided to take a few notes.

From the start of the pour, a noisy off-white head begins to fizz up, culminating about three fingers worth when all is said and done. Larger bubbles form about halfway down, but tighten up once more, in addition to leaving very tiny colonies of bubbles sticking to the sides of the glass. The beer is a deep, deep mahogany hue that still lets in a bit of light.

Smells of robust, fresh coffee grounds, and it seems like this is going to be a good one, as I’ve been finding more and more and more strong coffee-infused beers that I truly enjoy. Roasted malt notes are evident, but really lay underneath the coffee aroma. It may seem a bit one-dimensional, but I’ll let the flavor characteristics speak to my palate.

Up front, the malt character seems fairly light, as I think many porters have a tendency to be, but this almost gives it a soft-drink sort of feel. Nevertheless, this is readily overtaken by a wave of straight coffee ground goodness that covers the back of the palate. Hop presence is actually noticeable, very much in the vein of a porter, though, because it’s there to provide balance. The malt and coffee profiles blend well, but are also distinct by themselves in this beer. The aftertaste is nothing but java, which I don’t mind at all.

That quintessential porter body is retained; lighter than say, a Russian Imperial, but still carrying some heft in the mouthfeel, which is nice. Carbonation doesn’t get in the way by any means, and is at an optimal level.

Not even close to an abv monster, but still enough (6%) to get your attention. From an 11.2oz bottle, this seems like fitting serving. And for all my talk about how strong the coffee notes are in the bouquet and on the palate, this is really a treat, and isn’t too over-the-top, but definitely makes its presence known. If you’re expecting a run-of-the-mill porter with a faint coffee tinge, then you’d be disappointed, but if you’re looking for that fresh grounds fix, this is your porter, my friend.

Cheeseheads and Beer-geeks, Unite!

Mark your calendars for Sunday, December 2nd. There’s going to be a Beer Advocate gathering in Richmond that will consist of an excursion to the renowned Legend brewpub starting at 1PM, as well as a beer & cheese pairing happening directly after that.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Here it is… “the lineup,” as it were, with a couple of usual suspects:

1. Okocim O.K. Beer
2. Southampton Secret Ale
3. Fuller’s ESB
4. Anchor Steam
5. Ommegang Hennepin Saison
6. Bear Republic Red Rocket Ale
7. North Coast Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout
8. Unibroue Trois Pistoles
9. Stoudt’s Double IPA
10. Stone Ruination

This is more or less going by hoppiness and strength, but the order and offerings are subject to change. Still, most, if not all, of these beers will be featured for the tasting, which will be paired alongside Fontina, Pepper Jack, Beemster Extra Old (26 mo.) Gouda, and Fourme D’Ambert Raw Milk Bleu cheeses.

By having a few different styles of cheese, and several different styles of beer, we hope to make it a rather interesting and all-encompassing tasting. Based off the gourmet cheeses Steve and I picked up, this should be tasty as all hell.

Ten beers may be a lot for a tasting, but we’re looking to show the versatility of the four cheeses, and plan on having small pours, as well as crackers and perhaps bread to act in conjunction with the cheese as a palate-cleanser. The idea is to have variety in the beer selection, that runs the gamut from mild-mannered to outlandish, and to see how these stack up to cheeses that are measured on the same spectrum.

And to think, all you have to do is show up…

Let us know you’re coming. Sign up here.

Scottish & Newcastle Turn Down Advances

Politely, Carlsberg and Heineken agree to a “good night” and a firm handshake.

But seriously, the two have now offered £7.3 billion ($15.1 billion US) for the seventh largest brewer by volume in the world. Scottish & Newcastle also hold “market leading positions in 15 countries” and “are the number four brewer in volume terms and the number two in profit terms” in Europe, according to their website.

Originally, Carlsberg and Heineken formed a consortium on October 17, 2007, in order to put in a joint bid for Scottish & Newcastle. The offer had subsequently been rejected. Coming on the heels of arbitration proceedings between Carlsberg and S&N at the end of October over their joint BBH (Baltic Beverage Holdings) venture for the Eastern European and Russian markets, this new offer ups the ante from 720p a share to 750p.

The Dutch and Danish outfits are supposedly looking to get S&N to the negotiating table in order to perhaps arrange a more lucrative takeover bid. But even with the increased offer, their attempts have proven unsuccessful thus far.

More information here and here.

Still Holding Onto the Harvest

I’ll best honest with you, I’m a fan of fresh hop beer. I love everything about the entire process: the painstaking efforts taken to pick and load the hops, the overnight deliveries by plane or truck, the man-hours put in to make sure these things arrive in a timely fashion, and the immediate, urgent use of these beautiful, fresh green cones.

Sierra Nevada actually has a great video on their website about their Harvest Fresh Hop Ale, as does Deschutes Brewery in reference to their Hop Trip, which can be seen here.

Sure, I know I’m a little behind the curve, especially as winter seasonals have already been steadily rolling in. But screw it, I’m dedicating this post to fresh hop ales, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

I will say though, I’m sitting down right now with a Harpoon Glacier Harvest Wet Hop Beer from their 100 Barrel Series Session #20; that’s what sparked this whole thing. And I did greatly enjoy Sierra Nevada’s Harvest, but tonight I’m featuring this current one-off from Harpoon.

I received this as a gift from a fellow Beer Advocate of mine, who surprised me about a month ago when I was professing my enjoyment of fresh hop ales. So, I figured that I’d do this beer a service and feature it here, seeing as how it’s a limited edition and a fresh hop offering. And besides, I couldn’t find any Great Divide Fresh Hop Pale around here.

The pour revealed an enticing amber-colored beer, with a nice dense, frothy head that loved to cling to the sides of my Sam Adams glass (yes, the patented one scientists dreamed up that’s supposed to enhance the characteristics of every beer. And yes, the one Boston Beer Company so graciously sent to me gratis through the mail). I gave it a whiff, hoping to get a nose full of aromatic fresh hops, but was a little dismayed to find that it was more on the subtle side. No bother, I thought, as I had already been salivating over this thing and couldn’t wait to drink it up.

Flavor-wise, I wasn’t so impressed either. Granted, it had an interesting hop profile that featured the milder Glacier hop, of course, but it didn’t seem to bring it to the forefront, at least as much as I had hoped. Don’t get me wrong, hops aren’t the end-all be-all for me, but I do expect it out of a fresh hop beer. Nevertheless, there was a large grainy and bready malt flavor that seemed to detract from the focus, a little too much than I had expected. Although this smoothed out a bit after the beer warmed, it still seemed to take center-stage.

The mouthfeel was solid though. A medium-bodied delight that didn’t go overboard on the carbonation, and stuck solidly in the middle. Interestingly enough, I found it hard to put this one down, but at the same time was wanting a bit more out of the flavor. It may have been that I was merely searching for just the slightest bit more hop presence, and wasn’t getting it.

Regardless, I appreciate this beer for its merits, but would hope that next time the centerpiece is featured a bit more prominently.