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I know I’m a step behind everybody else and their mother that’s blogged about Old Dominion pulling up stakes and moving their operations to Delaware as part of the Coastal Brewing consolidation. If you want to read the press release, I’m sure it’s online in several places. Get your google on.
Most of you already know the story. But what I’d like to do is offer my unsolicited opinion, which is purely subjective and open to as much criticism that I won’t listen to anyway. It may seem like a callous response, but I’m not really that surprised or dismayed that the place is closing its Ashburn facility. Furthermore, I’m not so sure I’ll really miss most of the selections that were available in bottles. Like I said, I’ve kicked myself in the past for not visiting their pub before that closed down so that I could try some of the beers only offered there, but a part of me is kind of indifferent to the situation at hand.
Firstly, it seems as though the pillars of Old Dominion’s line will still be available through this amalgamated Coastal brewing facility in Delaware, at least for the time being. But there is also speculation that this is the final nail in the coffin, and that a majority, if not all of the OD offerings will eventually disappear completely.
Don’t think I’m overlooking the brewery’s workforce or the impact this could have on their lives. It’s difficult any time a job is relocated and cutbacks may result, so I definitely feel their pain and understand their concerns. And I would go into a rant about political economy here, but then you’d just be bored and wondering where the beer went. What I’m getting at though, is that on the whole, Old Dominion’s beers never really impressed me all that much. For me, the product has to be worth the financial sacrifice, and while I like supporting local (I’m counting state as local here) businesses, I want a product that will deliver. I will say that the Oak Barrel Stout on tap was tasty, but most everything else never really did it for me. Not that I wished them ill will, or wasn’t curious about what else they had to offer, it just wasn’t enough to keep my dollars funneling in their general direction.
As for their progression as a business, I think that Lew makes a really good point when he asks: “Who’s going to give enough of a damn to hit the street and really sell these beers when the people who make them apparently aren’t all that fired up themselves?” I’m wondering the same in regards to the consumers as well; who’s gonna care enough to keep buying their beer if that’s the manner in which they’re operating, paring down and losing steam? Old Dominion had been withering away in front of our eyes when the decision came to sell it off. Now it’s just painful to watch, and part of you wishes someone would put it out of its misery already.
Just don’t think the dealings of Coastal and Anheuser-Busch have nothing to do with it. You can jump on your high horse with regard to defending/attacking macrobreweries and the like, but that’s all part of it. Because as the wise Mr. Bryson mentions further on in his post, the InBev acquisition of Anheuser-Busch may result in streamlining the brewing juggernaut in its American operations. The subsidiaries that aren’t growing will be going.
Andy Crouch points out that Virginia is prime real estate for a regional brewer, and that brands in other states may be eying the Commonwealth like a cartoon wolf over a hen house. I think that’s an accurate assessment, and I hope to see someone from within our borders step up and take the reins in that regard. One or two come to mind already, but they immediately face the issue of capacity and expansion, especially in a time of economic downturn. Not an easy feat by any means. It’s going to be something to watch, let’s put it that way.
So for all intents and purposes, this looks like the end of the line for our northern Virginia natives. Am I losing any sleep over it? Not really. But I am thinking a lot about what’s going to happen next.
Alright, so we’re way past the real Oktoberfest celebration. I get it. And that last little diatribe about the area Mouseketeers horning in on my action may have seemed somewhat random (albeit deserved). Well, I’ve decided to go ahead and post a couple more reviews of Oktoberfest beers, two American and one bonafide German, just to illustrate a point.
We’ll start with the one located closest to home. That would not be the German one, by the way. Legend Oktoberfest comes from our hometown heroes on the James, Legend Brewing Company, and is one that I’ve been wary about getting back to. Apparently, the recipe is tweaked every year, I’m guessing just to make things interesting. A year or two ago, it became so “interesting” that it tasted much sweeter than it should’ve been, which according to one of the employees at Legendary Distributing was due to an imperfection they attempted to mask. This year, at least, things seemed to be on the right track.
A finger’s worth of cream-colored head dissipates at a medium clip, and the beer itself is darker than many other Märzens I’ve seen, with a deep ruby and garnet hues. Doesn’t look like your typical Oktoberfest beer, let’s put it that way. The bouquet is a mellow combination of fresh grains and a touch of caramel, which seemed like it could be better than its predecessor.
It opens up on the tongue nicely at first, with the caramel featured prominently, but there’s an oddly-placed bitterness that takes over toward the middle and flattens out in the finish. I can see why they may have amped up the sugary starches in the past. The aftertaste leaves the back of the mouth with an unpleasant coating of earthy hops, which appear to be the main culprit in this one.
The body of this beer is actually its best quality, being more full than many other Oktoberfestbiers, but the hops and dialed-up malt combo detract from its delicate, light-bodied finish, leaving that undesirable aftertaste untouched.
As mentioned before, the Starr Hill Festie from Crozet’s Starr Hill Brewery is part of this little round-up. The Festie pours a transparent rust color topped by a quarter-inch eggshell tinted head that was rather short-lived. After a swirl-and-sniff, I pick up a somewhat grassy and earthy smell, along with an indescribable hint of… I want to say gasoline. But it’s not. I have a feeling it has something to do with the sweet malt and alcohol presence, but it has me stumped, to be honest.
Nevertheless, I haven’t died yet from consuming it. It’s pretty even-keeled, displaying an agreeable balance. Malt is on the grainy side, with a touch of sweetness for good measure. The earthy hops come through at the very end, in a pleasant finishing bitterness that doesn’t blanket the mouth. Carbonation is just right, giving it an ample but smooth body.
Like much of Starr Hill’s line, this doesn’t wow me, but it doesn’t disgust me either. It is what it’s supposed to be: easy to drink and well-balanced. Nothing more, nothing less. Makes me appreciate this offering for simply that, and is a good stab at the style.
And last but not least, the Ayinger Oktober Fest-Märzen. Now, Ayinger Brewery may not be one of the “Big Six” that’re supposed to have a stranglehold on the Oktoberfest market in Munich, but in my opinion, it’s better. I see nothing wrong with drinking maß krug after maß krug of this stuff, and with such a balanced approach and delicious taste, that’d be easy to do.
A finger and a half of brilliant white head forms over top of a sea of amber-hued beer, and it almost seems to define the color, rather than the other way around. The nose is toasted, bready malt and a hint of sweetness that almost assumes a fig-like character. Up front, it has a silky body with sweet and grainy biscuit notes in tandem that don’t jockey for position. The center is delightfully juicy, which paves the way for a bubbly finish that is ever-so-slightly drying with an earthy hop bitterness that only serves to bolster the balance of this beer.
It appears that this beer does so much with very little. Its balance is incredible, its flavors are distinct enough to appreciate, but withheld enough to allow for drinkability. No real off flavors or overpowering hops, and an optimal level of carbonation.
I normally don’t do this, but I have an unequivocal favorite Oktoberfest beer. Americans didn’t do it better this time, but even some of Ayinger’s Bavarian compatriots don’t come close to this particular Märzen. They seem to get everything right, right down to the label and bottle cap artwork. And besides, I ask: who is more dapper than Franz Inselkammer?
Now, I don’t want to accuse anyone of plagiarism or idea-theft here, but something suspicious is going on over at that local rag called the Richmond Times-Dispatch. Now, I’m not the first person in the world to do an Oktoberfest beer tasting, but I believe I’m the first to post about it on a local blog as part of The Session. So who do these guys think they are?
The MashUp crew is a group of, well, I’m not really sure who they are. They appear to be a youthful band of mischief-makers going around highlighting events in the Richmond area for a curious public audience. Also, my keen detection skills note they are running a “v-blog” as the kids call it these days. Anyway, they’ve recently hit a local haunt of mine (one that comes up regularly on this blog), and have been engaged in several beer-related activities. I interpret this in the only way I can: pure affrontery.
Their October 10, 2008 post, or “v-post” or what have you, announces the Brazilian-themed after party at Capital Ale House as loosely related to the Folk Festival happenings this past weekend. Beer is mentioned innocuously as part of the celebration. Fair enough.
Then, on October 14th, the gang decides to feature pumpkin beers. They hang with Jacob of Cap Ale renown, in the Downtown beer garden, no less. After sampling the likes of Dogfish Head Punk’n, Weyerbacher Imperial Pumpkin, and others of their ilk, they briefly discuss the merits of each. Good to see beer getting some more notariety, I think to myself.
But then, today’s “video-webcast” features other Oktoberfest beers (scroll up to around the 2:50 mark). It was all part of one big fall seasonal tasting, but this one proves to be the more entertaining segment. After sampling the pumpkin beers, settling into some O’fests, and chugging from “das Boot,” we get a chance to witness a visibly intoxicated Brigitte wax philosophical on the similarities of Hofbrau and Heineken, as well as her German-Italian heritage. Good stuff.
Now maybe this is the beer nerd in me talking, but I feel I’m being usurped here. So maybe I’m not the most articulate guy in the world. And I don’t have a “vid-cast” produced thrice weekly. And sometimes I have very little excess funds to travel the world (or even the surrounding counties) to bring you the latest in beer news and events. And I’ll perhaps over-indulge in my beverage of choice on occasion. But I’d like to think that this is my turf, and these ne’erdowells are trying to push me out. What’s a poor, beer-sodden pseudo-journalist to do?
Stand his ground, that’s what. If you see me in the streets, it won’t be pretty, my friends…
MashUp crew... come out to play-aaayy!
This may amount to sacrilege, but I’m actually kind of getting into wine. As I previously mentioned, I went to my first wine festival recently. I was also talked into going on a small tour of Virginia wineries in the Charlottesville area, and to tell you the truth, it was a blast.
What am I turning into here? I started appreciating the delicious fruity crispness of a Viognier, the tannic dryness of Cabernet Franc… I even found some dessert wines that weren’t half bad when they eased up on the residual sugars.
Fear not, there was a brief break in the clouds for beer, and that came in the form of Starr Hill Brewery in Crozet. As I’ve mentioned in the past, that area of the state is absolutely gorgeous and is developing a solid brewing scene in its own right. Starr Hill had less of the sleek accoutrements than its neighbor in Afton, as it was mostly just a brewery with a small tasting bar and some merchandise for sale up against the back wall.
The interior’s atmosphere reminded me of their selection of beers: nothing fancy, but reassuringly reliable. No bells and whistles to try and distract you from what’s there. The one guy in the place serving up little plastic tasters was preoccupied with switching out a keg of their Jomo Lager and ringing up customers who were on their way out, so I was only able to taste a couple of beers before we had to leave.
I didn’t even get a chance to try some of their regular line-up that I hadn’t tasted before. The Black Starr Stout was solid as per usual, and the Festie I’d already tasted before this visit (which will be included in yet another Oktoberfest round-up in the near future), so I missed out on their hefeweizen The Love and some others. Seeing as how they are constantly expanding and had that distribution deal with Anheuser-Busch, which I’m guessing is still applicable with InBev, I shouldn’t have too difficult of a time finding it here in Richmond if my heart so desires.
Regardless, I got to try those two beers on tap, which I’d only had out of the bottle before, and I sipped one they brewed for the Great American Beer Festival in Denver. Interestingly enough, the Bamberg Hellerbock they brewed and The Love both won Silver medals at the Great American Beer Festival. I like being able to try the same beer in different formats to see if there are noticeable changes, which probably makes me a nerd.
Oh, and as for their GABF entry, it was a version of their Jomo Lager with lime and ginger. Good to see some innovation on their part, but it tasted like a twangy Miller Chill or something.
Buckbean Brewing Company is an outfit out of Reno, Nevada, and have apparently been contacting beer lovers in the blogosphere to spread the word about their products. I was sent free samples of their Original Orange Blossom Ale and their Black Noddy Lager. I’ve already seen some reviews of these beers on other blogs, but don’t feel like searching them out to link to them. I’m lazy. You may have already read the posts about these beers, but I’m going to write about them anyway.
Original Orange Blossom Ale
It looks like these guys are trying to be innovative, just by the name alone. This is a good thing. Not only that, but they come in cans that hold a pint of beer. Good to see that the move toward cans is taking off with some breweries, and I feel confident that I can give this beer and its counterpart a fair review without worrying too much about issues of quality.
The Orange Blossom Ale pours a coppery sunburst hue, with an inch of off-white head that recedes to a minimal skim of bubbles after a minute or so. The nose is almost soapy, but displays a sweet orange aroma that is akin to Sunkist orange soda. The floral blossom smell is a welcome change from citrusy hop-bombs, and this one seems to match the arrangement with sweet Munich and Caramel malts.
For as fragrantly floral as this beer is, these traits seem somewhat diminished on the palate. Instead, a whispy malt profile shows up and provides a shallow base for the featured flavors, with minimal sweetness. In lieu of citrus or the pleasant floral aromatics, there’s a hint of astringency just before entering a slightly drying finish. It’s as if the brances of the tree come through rather than the actual blossoms. However, it also could be the water itself.
While I appreciate the effort taken with this beer, one that strives for individuality and showcases creativity, it somehow seems to fall short. The fact that they didn’t go to any extremes with this beer and shot for balance is worth of praise. However, with some recipe-tweeking, this could be unique and tasty.
Black Noddy Lager
It’s good to see this innovative spirit continue, this time in the form of a Schwarzbier. Not enough of these dark lagers are readily available, and many don’t seem to measure up to a select few that are excellent ambassadors of the style.
A gradual torrent of cream-colored bubbles swells upward from a moderately vigorous pour, but don’t stick around long. The half-inch head makes a quick exit, leaving behind a soapy trail on top. In the nose, there is a tempting roasted malt scent, almost like burnt coffee with earthy tones.
On the palate, there is a toffee sweetness that backs off toward the finish and a nice malt base of roasted coffee, which balances out nicely. The Noddy has a well-rounded composition, but again, a mineraly hard water taste is detectable, albeit less so than in the Orange Blossom Ale. On the plus side, the malt characteristics drown out that aspect so it’s not as noticeable, and the hops keep it in check for a balanced, drinkable beer.
Clocking in at 5.8% and 5.2% abv respectively, the Orange Blossom Ale and the Black Noddy Lager are laudable attempts, but the Noddy definitely trumped the Orange Blossom for me. It’s good to see the range of styles from only two beers, and the drive to take the less beaten path. If Buckbean builds on these ideas by taking them back to the drawing board, and working out the kinks with that underlying off-taste that I assume to be from the water, they could have some quality brew on their hands.
Sunday afternoon. For me, Sunday afternoon is all about the last refuge before beginning another work week. During the NFL season, it’s a time to bundle up in comfortable sweaters for the colder months and surround yourself with good food, good friends, and good beer. This past Sunday in particular featured almost none of the aforementioned.
The day started off promising enough; a sports bar in the Fan district of town supplied the televised sports and the decent options for beer. I stuck to Sam Adams Boston Lager and Oktoberfest, but really appreciated the decor… a lot nicer than your average hole-in-the-wall with a tv. We were hoping to grab a bite to eat, but with limited seating, it was a standing-room only affair.
Nevertheless, the Carytown Wine Festival was happening this weekend, ironically enough in front of the now-closed and yet-replaced Carytown Wine and Beer. Try as I might, I couldn’t find a single drop of liquid on the premises that featured malt. Strawberries? Check. 30 Peppers condensed into one surprisingly clear serum? Check. Beer? Negative. Besides, what kind of jerk goes to a wine festival, during Virginia Wine Month, and expects to find something else? It was time to “get cultured.”
So yours truly perused the stations of Virginia wineries offering their array of reds and whites, from Vigoniers to Meritages, most of which only marginally impressed me. This guy wasn’t so generous. Maybe I’m just a contrarian, constantly seeking to devalue a beverage that is supposedly classier and more esteemed than the one I hold dear. But the format of the festival is what really got to me.
Being a wine novice, I can’t say that I’ve ventured to too many wine festivals and witnessed their pourings. However, it seems as though many wineries wish to offer the consumer a full demonstration of their capabilities, from dry chardonnay to sweet dessert wines. I have to say though, that it all felt a bit disingenuous. With several groups of people wedged in toward the iced cooling troughs for the wines, the minimal pours, and the brief attention paid to filling each festival-goer’s glass with one sip, there seems to be something lacking at a wine festival. Not to belittle the trade, or state that the vintners care nothing for their product, but I find much less intimacy there than at beer festivals.
It could be the sample size. Without a chance to let something linger, and allow enough time to rinse one’s glass before the next pour, it seems somewhat rushed and focused on proving the range of a particular vineyard. I’ve heard that some wine tastings are all about the spitting, not actually drinking the wine, which would make more sense in terms of coating the palate. At beer festivals, there seem to be less offerings per table and a little more time to savor the beer, but that may be due to the larger sample size and (generally) lower alcohol content when compared with wine.
However, it could just be festivals in general. You have the types who are looking to get a hellacious buzz from several small samples, or the ticker types that need to mark every beer they’ve tried a few ounces of and furiously note that they’ve tried it. Actual enjoyment seems to play second fiddle. Me, I feel like I’m probably somewhere in between. But imagine brewers that bring several styles of beer to a festival and rush you through each one in quick succession so that others may taste. Sure, they’re normally pouring rather quickly, but it’s a smaller selection. If you had one sip of one red right after another, and repeated this from table to table, how can you truly get a feel for the intricacies?
Whilst rushing through style after style, I noticed a certain element within the crowd. Some were there to get free sample after free sample, and I can’t say I’m completely innocent in that regard, however, there were some in attendance that made my blood boil. I’m talking to you, Mr. Loud-mouthed polo-shirt-wearing wine snob. It was bad enough the guy was trying to pick up anything (with apologies to the upstanding young ladies that were present) in a skirt, but the weak attempts to pass himself off as the next… I dunno, Steve Mancuso?? I’m not up on who’s who in the realm of the grape… just seemed aggravating and generally lame.
And don’t get me wrong, I plan to investigate this whole “wine world” some more very soon, even touring Virginia wineries, sampling their wares, and judging for myself. With that kind of time, I should be able to really sample their wares and see what they have to offer in a more temperature-controlled environment, with fresh wine close to the source, etc. But you can also be sure I’ll be hitting an area brewery or two as well along the way.
Believe it or not, this strange subculture also has its own publication, to which its minions adhere like followers of Joseph Smith to the Book of Mormon. So much so that they wine and dine at fake restaurants. (Been sitting on that one for a while, but I just had to… it’s good to see both sides of the aisle keeping themselves in check)
I’m finding the topic for this Session to be somewhat difficult to expound upon. Beers that bring you back, so to speak… in particular, a beer that provokes a certain memory. For me, beer has mostly been about living in the moment, savoring its characteristics in the context of my surroundings. Like that one mass-market Euro lager that hits the spot right after a grueling day at the office, or that exceedingly rare Belgian you may only be able to try once in your lifetime. Instead, I think I’ve got a beer that may shoot somewhere in between those two, one that’s linked to several fond memories in the recent past.
That beer is Bell’s Two Hearted Ale. I’ve tasted this offering in many forms. Every form that’s available actually, except for straight from the fermentation tank. Many of these delicious occasions seem to have revolved around birthdays.
When it was time to get a gift for a friend of mine who was getting into quality brew a couple years back, I picked up a six-pack of Two Hearted for him. After having tried it a few times myself, I couldn’t help but think that this pal of mine would get the same delight I got from its floral and citrusy hop traits, and a fruity side of mellow grapefruit that melds so well with its malt profile. Toasting his birthday with some quality beers and good friends was gift enough for him, and it also hid the fact that I was a broke bastard at the time.
Nearly a year ago, another friend of mine was celebrating his time on this planet in revolutions around the sun. And what could that mean but picking up a mini-keg of Two Hearted and some American football on the television? At the time, these little gems just came into the Richmond market, and it was his goal to have at least one of them flowing on his birthday. Glass after glass of that sweet, sweet nectar combined with an assortment of tasty treats like a bread and cheese platter and a bowl of homemade hummus with 
pita chips made for a festive day indoors with friends as the weather turned cold outside. Reminds me of all the good things winter has to offer.
And then came this past summer. For a proper send-off of a good friend traveling across the country, only a keg of Bell’s Two Hearted would do. What better way to satiate the interests of a thirsty mob, many of whom had never ventured outside the realm of domestic lager, than with a moderately strong, solidly hopped ale? Besides, I didn’t want to drink swill all night, and neither did my closest pals. So while being accommodating in thinking of the general taste of the crowd, I also didn’t want to settle for less. The result? I got plenty of help making the keg lighter, that’s for sure.
I’ve been fortunate enough to try a myriad of beers in my day, and there are thousands that I’m sure I’ll never get my hands on. Rather, they’ll remain sacred objects of myth and speculation, like the Holy Grail, or the remains of Amelia Earhart. At the same time, many of the fine ales and lagers that’ve passed my lips have shown little cause to be etched into the memory, whether from the surroundings in which they were consumed or the quality of the bottles’ contents.
Bell’s Two Hearted, however, has been an accessible IPA that I’ve witness entertain many a palate, from the seasoned beer geek to the novice tippler. Perhaps that’s why it’s always been kept handy, and has saved me from other more dire options in the past. Its availability and reliability have created several opportunities for making memories worth keeping, and have helped me forget how much money I’ve spent on it the past few years.
Many thanks to Ray and Melissa over at Bathtub Brewery for hosting this month’s Session. The old guy’s comments at the top right of their site is enough to creep me out/make me laugh for days.
Do we?
Well, okay, we have our exceptions. Maybe too many to name, in fact. But with all the talk that seems to dismantle the notion of variety and tradition in today’s German beer culture (coming coincidentally close to Oktoberfest), Eric Asimov at the New York Times has posted a ranked review of several Oktoberfest/Märzen-style beers. The top three are brewed in the United States.
Now some may argue that there is an inherent American bias afoot here, or that without tasting the beer closest to the source, one cannot definitively categorize “good, better, best” in such a manner. Some would even take issue with rating beer altogether, in any fasion. But, numerical and hierarchical aspects aside, could it be that Americans are improving beer styles from Europe for the better, or preserving the best qualities of seemingly outdated tradition in relation to our overseas counterparts?
As we’re told, the real Oktoberfest experience nowadays is more akin to drinking massive quantities of tasteless light lager than savoring the caramel malty goodness of a true Märzen (if you saw me this past weekend, I managed to combine both traditions). More than likely, you’re drinking the lighter Festbier if in Munich, not the russet-hued version we’re so familiar with in the States. Pick up that Hofbräu seasonal at your local beer store and you might be thoroughly disappointed. However, it’d be tough to go wrong with some American options.
Even Marston’s in the UK has commissioned Matt Brynildson of California’s Firestone Walker Brewery to brew an American-style pale ale (which, from what I gather, means nearly or as bitter as an IPA) for Wetherspoons’ upcoming International Beer Festival. It speaks to the impact American innovation has had as far as style and craft, not to mention the notariety certain American brewers are receiving overseas. But as the Zythophile points out, Firestone Walker is one of the few breweries, along with Marston’s, to preserve a long-abandoned system of fermentation: the union method.
Organizations such as CAMRA in the United Kingdom are hell-bent on preserving the tradition of cask or “real” ale in their pubs for better or for worse, as Boak and Bailey mention. Several American brewers, while not under such pressure, have been creating cask offerings for quite some time, which serve their regional markets quite well. Even my local haunt normally has two cask offerings on at any given time. Usually something from Victory Brewing in Pennsylvania and a local like Legend, waiting to be pulled and more often than not in top condition. That’s not to mention the specialty casks that come into the Richmond area from time to time. And in New England, for instance, the roots of English brewing tradition can be seen today in breweries like Shipyard and Geary’s, perhaps even hearkening back to colonial tastes for English ale before Independence.
Point is, all the aforementioned are vital to preserving what’s great about beer in the first place. Us Yanks, it seems, have developed a split personality: we’re still growing when it comes to our own beer culture and traditions, and we seem to be taking measures to hold onto those that are not even ours; yet that individualistic spirit that’s intrinsic to our national identity is evident in the limits we constantly attempt to push when it comes to brewing.
Do we do it better entirely across the board? Probably not, and that’s something that’s always up for debate on a case-by-case basis, be it brewer or consumer, on any product in particular. But have we proven our ability to tackle a range of styles with tradition in mind, and produce respectable results, despite our penchant for the excessive?
Most certainly.
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