Monthly Archive

Just a quick check-in from Budapest. So far, time for good beer has been few and far between, as other events have taken up most of my time. Prague was ruined for me by a throat and sinus infection, but I’m back at it again here on the Danube. More stories to follow, but my free time on the internet is also limited. More to follow upon my return.

My good friend’s father was in the Army during the 60’s and was stationed in Turkey. Ever since, he’s had a proclivity for Turkish cuisine, culture, and most recently, Turkish beer. He’s also gotten in contact with old friends from Izmir, an ancient port city on the Aegean. Able to reap the benefits of this set-up, I acquired two Efes beers: one Pilsner style and one called Efes Dark. I’m always up for imports, or anything I haven’t tried, so I figured I’d try to give these an honest review while I had a moment.

The Efes Pilsener, which interestingly enough lists itself in tiny print as “Pilsener Ale” on the neck’s label (more than likely due to import reasons), is a pale straw color that produces a finger of brilliant white head that dissipates without leaving any lace behind. It has a biscuity and grainy aroma, smelling somewhat metallic in the sense that it could be brewed with adjuncts. From its appearance and smell, I’m concerned this may be another mass-produced Euro lager with little character, but I’m reserving judgment until I taste it.

Turns out, the metallic bite that comes from many industrially made lagers is non-existent. Efes Pilsener has a grainy, pale malt introduction that is more robust than expected, and it fades smoothly and evenly in the middle. The result is a clean, slightly drying finish, but again, not in the way that many macro pale lagers tend to do; this is refreshing. On top of that, there is a noticeably soft hint of diacetyl that mimics its Czech ancestors, and the carbonation isn’t too much on the palate at all. Not an exact replica by any means, but a notable feature to this beer. Enough to make me look kindly on this one, and see its appeal for what it is.

Then we have the Efes Dark. This beer is even more confusing than its sibling, and, even for a self-appointed Dark Beer, also lists itself as a Pilsener Ale. Go figure. Not only that, while the Pils is contained in a brown glass bottle, the Dark is in a clear one.

Anyway, the Dark is a rich mahogany hue, but translucent nonetheless. About a centimeter of head forms at the top and disappears quickly. The aromatics are actually cleaner than the Efes Pilsener; this brewery is just full of surprises. There’s a touch of caramel in the nose, but other than that, not much else.

The taste is perplexing to say the least. Again, this is somehow cleaner on the palate, but also less flavorful, both of which I didn’t see coming. That ghost-like caramel malt sweetness is accompanied by a soft toasted character up front, but lacks any dynamic as it exits quietly. There is a bit of the caramel flavor that lingers in the aftertaste, but it’s nothing to write home about.

Overall, I’d say that Efes has done a great job of throwing my brain and tongue for a loop, to say the least. Their Pilsner-style offering was one that I could see being a savior at a bar filled with Heineken and Bud products, but the Dark I wasn’t so keen on. Both were decent enough, but I’d opt for the Pils out of the two.

If I ever get to Izmir, I could see that one hitting the spot on a balmy day. But after my trip to Central Europe, I’ll have to settle for the heat of the Richmond summer instead. Either way, I can’t complain.

The title could refer to beer, but for once, I’m talking about wine. Well, in a roundabout way, I’ve still got beer on the brain.

The BBC has published an article on the way music affects the perception of wine. Notably, the pairing of characteristics went parallel with the type of wine sampled and enhanced its enjoyment, according to a study conducted by Heriot Watt University. The example provided is Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana with a dense Cabernet Sauvignon. It also mentioned that “zingy and refreshing” sounds bring out the strengths of a chardonnay. Seems to make sense.

This naturally led me to thinking of how background music could influence the perception of anything consumed, namely another option in the beverage category: beer. In the article, it also mentions a prior study that the same professor had done on buying habits between French and German products, and how the music affected the decisions of the consumer.

But from my own experience, I can offer an example. I dig mostly every kind of music imaginable, but when I’m at Penny Lane Pub, the local Liverpool supporters bar in Richmond (owned by a true ex-Liverpudlian, I might add), I want to hear the Beatles, or even more so, the Kinks. (That and the fact that there isn’t much choice in the matter there anyway). Sure, they’re the same old tunes they’ve always been, but they’re the same old tunes I love to hear at different visits, in the company of friends. Could it be the English Premier League decor and the Fuller’s London Porter I’m sipping that puts me in this mood, or the other way around?

Regardless, it’s an aesthetic I seek out at times. This includes the effect that your environment has on your tastebuds; you’re likely to think more highly of a beer on a good night of quaffing with your pals in a comfortable, vivacious setting. Instead of opting for a better selection at a place up the road that plays mostly soft jazz and white-collar blues for its patrons, I’ll sometimes stop in to soak up the surroundings of Penny Lane, and get that cozy pub feel that you just don’t get with other places.

And it doesn’t hurt that music is good, either.

Diageo has announced that it will pump €650 million into the Guinness brand to update the brewery at St. James’s Gate and set up a new brewing facility close to Dublin. With any extra land that may result from shifting the locations of other facilities around, they might be going into the real estate business. What could be more appealing than to set up, say, a restaurant, right next to one of the most tourist-drawing establishments in all of Ireland?

The BBC article cites Diageo claiming that “increasingly competitive market conditions” are a reason for this move, and it seems that some breweries are consolidating, perhaps for the better. And I’m not talking malt and hop prices, either. I’m wondering if the economy as a whole is affecting the long-term outlook of these companies, not solely the price of raw materials. Not to mention the constant shapeshifting from mergers, buyouts, and the like. Because it’s one thing if a small microbrewing outfit is concerned for the time being, but it’s another thing altogether when huge international brands under Diageo are showing trepidation.

Anyway, I know this isn’t groundbreaking news, but I figured The Beer Nut would want to know since I’m sure he’s been dying to find a place he can get an ice-cold Harp.

Just to let you know, these posts may begin to slow to a mere drip in the coming weeks, possibly petering out altogether for a brief hiatus. Fear not, I’ll have plenty to yammer on about when I return from Europe. I’ll be in Prague, Vienna, Budapest, and Venice over the course of two weeks, and I doubt I’ll even have time for a post. Instead of seeking out internet cafes, I’ll be looking for those of the beer variety in my spare time. I should be back around the beginning of June, if I return at all!

Other than that, I’ve been trying to keep it beery around here. This past weekend, I snatched up a keg of Bell’s Two Hearted Ale for a good friend of mine who’s moving out to Colorado. We decided to throw him a party, and I couldn’t think of a better beer to accommodate the varying tastes of the crowd and the seasonably warm weather this time of year. When I got around to returning the keg today, the owner of the establishment (Corks & Kegs, if you must know) asked if there was any left in it with a knowing smile. I gave him a “no” response. “Yep, that’s the only one that always comes back empty,” he said. The party was a success, a lot of it having to do with that particular beer. I’m sure somewhere down the line, when I open up a bottle of Two Hearted to relax for the evening, I’ll recall the good time I had that night, and a few others I’ve had over the course of my better beer drinking days. Funny how a good beer can really bring you back.

Nevertheless, aside from preparing for that trip (or trying to anyway), I recently got a promotion. So tonight, I’m staying in, being somewhat non-productive, and sipping on a Harpoon Firth of Forth Ale from their 100 Barrel Series. The packaging for this stuff always impresses me, I’m not sure why. Come to think of it, the label designs for all Harpoon offerings never cease to appeal to me visually. This one’s billed as a “dark scotch style ale” according to the print, so let’s see what she’s made of.

A translucent, russet-colored beer it is, with roughly half a finger of ecru head on top that leaves circular clusters of foam behind. Notes of toffee, toasted and bready malt, with a negligible hint of bittersweet chocolate are present in the nose. Palate is mostly a malty toffee flavor, rounded and subtle, that dries out with a little hop bittering balance towards the finish. There is a sweetness that’s evident in the aftertaste, which lingers gently, but not cloyingly.

Not an amazing beer by any means, and not to disparage the entire line, but I normally like the labels better than the beer inside. Still, Harpoon is prone to making a solid beer, not a spectacular one, and for this I salute them. Sure, it’s not the most inventive or astounding special release, but perhaps that’s what is influencing my critique. Were this to be an everyday beer, I might be more impressed due to its understated nature. Plus, it’s just nice to sit down to a milder and smoother beer that’s easy to drink, without complex flavors ripping your tongue out. Harpoon is known for making easy sippers, and this one is no different. And at the moment, that’s the kind of mindset I’m in.

What, in the beer world, would be the equivalent of wine’s sommelier? Is there any system set in place to become an officially recognized beer expert, lending your extensive knowledge of fermented grain beverages to the general public?

There is, and Cicerone is its name. Well, that’s the certification program started by Ray Daniels, as well as the name of the “beer sommelier”. On May 2nd, the organization announced its first five to pass the exam to become Certified Cicerones. They are as follows:

Rob Gerrity - Sierra Nevada Brewing Company
Scott Kerkmans - Four Points by Sheraton
Ron Kloth - Papago Brewing Company
Andrew Waer - Unaffiliated
Neil Witte - Boulevard Brewing Company

Congratulations to these individuals on passing that grueling exam. Now the Chief Beer Officer at Four Points is also a Certified Cicerone, so that should lend some credibility to his operations over there.

Looking at the Cicerone website in the past, and even taking a sample quiz to test some of my beer knowledge, I came across the certification levels, which include the price list. It’s $50 to become a bonafide Beer Server, $295 to be a Certified Cicerone, and $495 to become a Master Cicerone.

As far as I can tell, the syllabus is made available to the hopeful inductee, and they have to seek out as much of this knowledge as possible to become certified. Then, and only then, do you pay the handsome fee in an attempt to be official in the eyes of the program.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. While a certified beer expert seems like it’d be a classy step up, I don’t know about the program itself. Doesn’t sound like there’s a whole lot of available training offered by the Cicerone program, not to mention paying good money to have an organization certify you. How can you be sure your $495 doesn’t go to waste on an exam that has unqualified standards?

As it stands, I don’t think many people are clamoring to have a Cicerone offer them food pairing advice or select a suitable beer for them from the restaurant’s beer list. Frankly, not many places have enough of a beer list to warrant such an expert (or a menu to match), and the ones that do have both are a scant few in only the country’s largest cities.

Part of the effort to certify people as Cicerones, according to its website, appears to be granting credibility to the beer world and its denizens of varying expertise. With that comes a price tag, and the end result may not be something that the beer world wants or needs.

Miller Lite in a can.

Yeah, I’d say that’s about right. I must have been not even ten years old when the love of beer struck me square in the face. Am I the product of bad parenting? Maybe, but if that’s the case, I probably drove them to it. Regardless, after begging to taste whatever the grown-ups were drinking one balmy summer day, my request was granted.

Looking back, I realize that the purpose of this exercise was to sour my outlook on beer in hopes that I’d never ask for it again. At present, it seems to have had the opposite effect.

I’ll never forget the unique flavor qualities it possessed: bubbly, grainy, and unlike anything I’d ever tasted. Years later, a trip to the Busch Gardens theme park in Williamsburg, Virginia, afforded me the opportunity to tour the nearby Anheuser-Busch brewing facility. At such a young age, I was fascinated by this beverage that I wasn’t allowed to have, the intriguing processes that created it, which, in turn, made me all the more curious.

My urge to taste more beer didn’t culminate until years later, however. Whether it was a party or just an evening spent with a small group of friends, beer was sometimes available. We weren’t tipping back tulip glasses filled with your finest Old Ale, pinkies extended; it was more like drinking straight from a bottle of Yuengling, and eventually, graduating to Boddingtons and Guinness into pint glasses.

The latter three seem to be the main culprits that turned me onto better beer. After having rudimentary experience with various run-of-the-mill American macro lagers, Yuengling opened my eyes to a dash of flavor, a wholly different take on what an easy-drinking beer could be. Then, Boddingtons and Guinness helped me see the nuances of body and beer style, two exotic brews from distant lands.

Better still, some of my friends were eventually old enough to buy beer before I was. I can recall prom night, which had later been enhanced by bottles of Delirium Nocturnum and Reissdorf Kölsch in the company of friends. There were occasions when a longtime buddy from the neighborhood would pick up strange bottles featuring Germanic font, like Franziskaner Dunkel-Weisse, and this enticed me to learn more about what we were drinking as we whiled the nights away with our group of friends.

When able to peruse the beer aisle of a store, I was able to read some labels, find out more information on a beer, and have someone eventually pick it up for me. Now, of course, I can do this on my very own, and this manner of beer exploration still continues to this day, thanks to the help of beer lovers around the world on the internet, in addition to knowledgeable shop-keeps. Essentially, that’s what I did: discover better beer my own way, with a little help from my friends. Sure, there were the tip-offs about what would be a good beer to buy, but a lot of that may have been based on alcohol content. No matter, I discovered what I liked through trial and error, often times urging others in my circle to branch out as well.

Nevertheless, beer with slightly higher alcohol by volume began my foray into the world of Belgian and American craft beer. For me, it was the taste that clinched it, because trust me, I’m no stranger to Steel Reserve, but I’m not eager to get reacquainted with it anytime soon.

A tip o’ the hat to Boak and Bailey for hosting this month’s Session. By the way, this is also my 100th post. For those who’ve been reading this thing for a while, sorry for wasting your time like that.

There’s an ongoing dispute in the beer world divided along the lines of “extreme beer” and, well… non-extreme beer. Perhaps “traditional” or “balanced” would be an apt label? Call it what you will, it’s a desire to return to the more accessible and familiar styles that Europe has conjured up over the last 500 or so years, and to get away from the high-alcohol, massively hopped segment of the beer market.

I seem to recall a conversation regarding the lack of restrictions on American brewing, how style and tradition had less of an importance in the States due to our fairly young beer culture. For the life of me, I don’t have an trail back to that exact place in cyberspace, but it’s one I’ve had and heard many times in the past. Even the article by Peter Rowe included a quote from Alex De Smet, who made the implication that some of these styles are hundreds of years old, and that “…it takes time to balance a beer.”

But “extreme” is everywhere. Would De Dolle Brouwers, Brasserie Fantôme, or Brouwerij De Regenboog be considered completely contrary to “extreme”? They’re using unorthodox methods and ingredients to create off-the-wall beers that may only be appreciated by a small segment of the beer drinking market. So what’s the verdict there?

In my opinion, the craft beer market has grown in the United States by double digits in the past year because people are becoming more aware of these kinds of flavorful beers, which some may categorize as “extreme.” A while back in a BeerAdvocate forum, Garrett Oliver aired his concerns over the extreme beer trend and labeling beer as such, claiming that it actually hurts the craft brewer financially in terms of marketing. I’m not so convinced, seeing as how there are gateway beers that many discover before taking the plunge into something more esoteric. This would explain the popularity of Sam Adams and Sierra Nevada, but would also indicate that breweries like Stone and Dogfish Head are growing exponentially because of this.

Maybe it’s the fluidity of terms in the beer world, such as “craft” or “extreme,” but the article points out that even Mr. Oliver has admitted to liking beers that could be categorized as “extreme.” It could just be a matter of personal semantics, but there is no definitive answer to these uncertainties yet, so we all may just be reading from different sheets of music.

Pivní Filosof made a recent post about an Italian beer tasting that included a discussion with Evan Rail about trends in the Italian beer market. Apparently, these microbrewed craft beers are targeting the gourmet consumers, or trade-uppers:

“…all beers come only in 750ml bottles. Many are sold at luxury restaurants as well as at specialist or deli shops. All beers are made with ingredients of the highest quality, and their goal is to compete with wines.”

So while the Italians are unrestrained by the rigors of tradition, they still keep things classy. Some of the beers they produce that have made it to the States illustrate the complexity and innovation that are part of the rise of Italian microbrewing. The way I see it, these brewers are attempting to compete with wine in the sense that they’re trying to gain the respect that wine has, not become them. There’s a fine line between classifying something as a luxury item (which beer is), and jacking up the price on something because you want to give the impression that your product is more luxurious. That’s not necessarily competing so much as it is tilting your nose skyward.

Others have had knee-jerk reactions to anyone warning of beer snobbery, perhaps because they don’t share the same inclusive, social experience that beer has to offer, and prefer to drink by themselves. That’s fine, but it is pervasive, and can hurt craft beer just as much as the “extreme” label.

So let me lay my cards on the table. I see both sides as equally important: I can appreciate the drinkable session brew just as much as I can a well-balanced Double IPA. To me, extreme beer is innovation from tradition, not merely upping alcohol or hops, and some brewers that have been burdened with this tag have proven that’s not solely what it’s about. Respect should be given to the noble tradition of brewing and beer itself, but at the same time leave an open door for new drinkers and new approaches, not become an exclusive club trying to be the “new wine”. 

What’s the answer? Should we be concentrating on returning to a simpler, more traditional approach to beer, or constantly search for the most extreme ingredients and aspects of brewing? Can there be elements included from either side? 

Looking down at where my cards have been laid, I see there’s room at the table for both.