You are currently browsing the monthly archive for November 2008.
Warning: may not be historically accurate.
Last year, I got some stares around the table. The family sat silently with shocked, confused looks on their faces that I’d never seen before; moreso than when I lived at their house and would blast my odd musical tastes for all to hear, or the time that one Thanksgiving years ago I defended my opposition to the invasion of Iraq after sitting there for a long time without saying a word (…but I think they saw that one coming). Here they were, like so many times before, gathering around to carve up the bird and give thanks, and there I was, pouring beer after beer for each course.
Now, if I’d been toting around a cranberry and vodka, or a glass of vino, I feel like they might’ve had a different perspective, one of maturity or simply just blending in. But no, I was doing a most dreadful thing: boozing it up with beer!
I realize now that they didn’t know, or care, that I was pairing my beers with these courses. And only after I tried to explain my goal to a relative or two did they give me a half-assed nod and look off into the distance. Besides, I was the lone vegetarian at the Thanksgiving table; I might as well go night-golfing every fourth Thursday in November.
But nay, I forged ahead with some select dishes and a penchant for (what I’d like to think is) good beer. This year, I think I’ll do the same, and maybe get a few less funny looks from the family.
Based on some recommendations from BeerAdvocate and the venerable Michael Jackson, I’m currently cooking up a plan of action. For instance, before dinner, I’ll probably heed the advice of the Alström brothers and not kill the palate before the real feast begins. Something light and crisp should do. While they mostly recommend some pilsners and light lagers, I might be more inclined to go the Jackson route and dish up a glass of Orval to get the tastebuds jumping.
Since the hors d’ouevres don’t get too fancy or elaborate where I come from, seafood and shellfish will more than likely not be served beforehand. Ergo, those Irish stouts and American porters may not be called for here. Besides, I don’t eat that stuff anyway. Give me a plate of cheese and crackers and a salad, and I’m satisfied. It’d probably be a good idea to pick something up that has a little bit of a hop kick, but not so much that it lingers before you get into the meal itself. The late Michael Jackson recommends gueuzes with salads, and krieks with fruit salad. While the second one sounds like a winner, I think pale ales might be a better choice for vegetable salads and a mild cheese pairing, at least for me. Having a powerfully sour gueuze at the front end just seems like a bad idea. Although his recommendations of Berliner weisse for vegetables and Hefeweizen for fruit salad would be a much more appropriate selection. I’ll see what I can find in the beer stores down there.
Now it comes down to the bird. I’ll be dining on a delicious Tofurky with vegetarian dumplings, stuffing, and gravy. Your snickers are going unnoticed here, simpleton. Again the recommendations of pilsners/light lagers or Belgian strong ales come up, and for good reason. Both have an intense ability to cut through the dryness of the turkey (or in my case, soy bird), and both will more often than not have a spicy tinge to them that will pair quite well. The Belgians will provide a complementary sweetness that will make for an appetizing contrast. Not sure which way to go with this one, but I’ll have to figure something out. I’m tempted to pull out the Orval here, actually, or perhaps go the way of the dubbel or quad.
Then comes dessert. Dark, high alcohol, densely-malted stouts are on the list from the American side, but I find the amber Märzen suggestion to be a more enticing one, especially since the alcohol content would be much lower. Perhaps Michael Jackson was just being a Germanophile when composing his list back in ‘83, but I still think it’s a solid pairing idea to go with pumpkin pie or other sweets that would work with that soft caramel touch. Besides, you can save the big, heavy boozy stuff for after the meal. And if it makes you feel better, pour it into a snifter and put on a smoking jacket.
I’m not sure what I’ll be able to find there during my brief visit, but I’m willing to take my chances. I might cheat and bring some stuff from my own private stock, but I’d like to just purchase it when I get to my destination. That adds an element of excitement, and it’s just more fun that way. We’ll see what I can cobble together, and how many heads I can turn this year.
We’ll catch those Czech so-and-sos if our live(r)s depend on it. A compilation of last year’s data indicates that American beer consumption per capita increased to 22 gallons. Apparently, beer consumption in the US had been trending the opposite direction in years past, but we’re back to our old selves, or at least to how much beer we drank in 2002.
Interestingly enough, last year was supposed to be the “year of flavor,” yet somehow Heineken Premium Light edged out Stella Artois and made it to number three on the IRI Top 30 Brand Performers list. Okay, so that’s a bit tongue-in-cheek. What they were really getting at was the introduction of several new beers and “beers” that had all sorts of crap in them. For instance, Bacardi Silver Mojito and Smirnoff Ice Pomegranate Fusion are on the Top 15 New Beer Brands list, yet I have a hard time believing they’d win any medals at the GABF. Or could actually be considered beer. Malt-based, sugary, alcoholic deliciousness is more like it!
But reflecting on this report now has me wondering what 2009 holds in store, especially with the state of the economy. Will we revert back to the macro brands we know and (possibly) love? And could that be a reason beer consumption per capita has risen in the US, based on consumers going a cheaper route to drowning their sorrows?
While the growth of craft beer sales makes me optimistic that the increase may be due to better beer awareness, we haven’t been in the most prosperous times economically, even back in 2007, and there’s no definitive correlation I’m aware of between sales of craft beer and increased beer consumption here in the States. Not only that, but the first article mentions the shifting dynamic that imports and domestics play, and how that has impacted the numbers over the years. So really, there’s no telling what the future holds.
Brands such as Samuel Adams and Sierra Nevada are poised to keep their cool and their shares of the beer market, as they are well established and can be found most anywhere in the country. But even though the craft segment as a whole has seen sales grow by double digits, this is only a small slice of the pie, and it may not be enough to keep smaller outfits alive in a tighter economy. Not only that, but depending on any fluctuations in costs such as the price of fuel, glass, or anything related to the industry, incurring these expenses from the supply side may continue put the pinch on a lot of the little guys, especially the ones that are just getting off the ground.
Locally (or somewhat locally I should say), a couple Virginia start-ups are facing rather intimidating odds. Shooting Creek Brewery and Devil’s Backbone Brewing Company are going to be adding their offerings to the area beer market, and Devil’s Backbone has just recently opened its doors to the public. I’m looking forward to trying both of their lines, which I hope will be delicious, but more importantly I’m wishing them much success in these trying times.
And speaking of annual milestones, I started this blog about a year ago, and I still don’t know what I’m talking about. I thought about writing an entry that was anniversary-related, but I’ve been too busy with actually having a life to nerd out with you. Instead, you get my boring industry pseudo-analysis. I think I’ve finally found my niche…
For whatever reason, Richmond is inextricably linked with Pabst Blue Ribbon.
On any given Friday or Saturday night, you’ll find hundreds of urban hipsters downing tall-boys of the stuff, or rotating between that and Sparks. I chalk it up to the influence Virginia Commonwealth University has on its immediate surroundings, and the fact that the college kids have something they can, in a way, call their own.
PBR is a cheap macro lager, but the company itself doesn’t even have its own brewery. It contract brews through other outfits like Miller. Even still, I’ve been known to sip a PBR not for street cred, but for those days when your only beer choice is between mass-produced lagers. Pabst Brewing Company is also responsible for such nostalgically-waxed beers as Ballantine, Stroh’s, National Bohemian (Natty Bo), and Colt 45. A rock-solid lineup. I’m partial to the Blue Bull, myself.
Well, Hampton Roads is about to get a taste of another throwback. Schlitz is hitting supermarkets and 
watering holes around the Seven Cities soon, according to the Virginian-Pilot. A revival of the brand and original recipe was mentioned back in April, and it became available to only a few select markets. Florida and Minnesota were first in the phase, followed by Chicago. Now, Southeastern Virginia is finally getting its taste.
Only problem is, the original recipe for it couldn’t be found. But apparently brewmaster Bob Newman did his homework and pieced together an approximation of what Schlitz used to taste like before the ’70s. Cans will feature the cheaper recipe that was used from then on, but they’re bringing back the brown bottles which will contain the “old” Schlitz. And according to the article, “[i]n 1912, the company invented something that modern-day craft brewers still consider essential to quality beer: a brown bottle that prevents spoilage by keeping out light. Schlitz also pioneered the ‘tall boy’ can.” As long as it preserves the fresh taste of maize, I’m for it.
So now when I see these punks loitering in front of the 7-Eleven with their mopeds and ultra-tight jeans, I can show them what cheap beer is really all about. Plus, I can scoff at them for not knowing their beer history, and instead of looking like a beer nerd, I’ll look more like a bitter old man. How’s that for an image change? Soon, under-30 Richmonders will be following my lead: put down that PBR and grab a Schlitz! What made Milwaukee famous can make a loser out of you, too.
As for marketing the brand, Pabst said they’re not attempting to follow the same path as Blue Ribbon with the younger generation, and instead targeting the older crowd; you know, the people who actually remember drinking the stuff. I’m sure there’s been many a day my grandfather could have been seen drinking an ice-cold Schlitz or Old Milwaukee straight from the can, telling kids to get off his lawn or spraying small, furry animals that tried to tear up his garden.
Cheers to him. Make mine a Schlitz.
I thought that title was reserved for ambrosia (not the fruit salad), but apparently I’m off by about half a globe. Regardless, that’s what Dogfish Head Craft Brewery has dubbed their Theobroma, a surprisingly expensive limited release beer that, upon arriving in the Richmond area, was only available for a maximum two-bottle purchase.
This small-batch beer was intended to emulate the earliest known use for cacao: having the pulp made into an alcoholic beverage. A year ago, the BBC published an article on scientists’ findings of theobromine, which is a chemical compound that is solely found in the cacao plant, on shards of ancient pottery in Honduras. So if Cornell University scholars out there proving an inherent connection between the cacao plant and fermented beverages, how can you argue that chocolate pairs better with wine? Just sayin’…
But what exactly is this Theobroma all about? Well, that’s why I’m here. Right out of the bottle, there is a lively carbonation that seems to support itself with thousands of microscopic bubbles rising upward as the top recedes gradually. Eventually, the head settles to a thin, soapy layer. The beer itself is a surprisingly dull amber hue that lets in a good amount of light. Not what I was expecting, as the large, curved dark-brown bottle hinted at something darker and more mysterious. I had anticipated the beer to be more along the lines of an imperial stout. Surprise number one. Well played, Sam Calagione.
Some of the ingredients listed are “Aztec cocoa powder and cocoa nibs from Askinosie Chocolate, honey, chilies, and annatto (fragrant tree seeds).” No task seems too daunting, no ingredient too rare, for Sam and his merry Delaware pranksters. Is this going to be another outlandish creation, good for only a glass or two before it rips your tongue out, tosses it on the floor, and stomps all over it?
Well, not quite. The aroma is very diminuitive, it’s slightly fruity, redolent of apples or pears, with a soft hint of bitter chocolate, and a faint presence of spice from the chilies. There’s also a binding bready factor, which seems to tie all the elements together. Everything is actually rather toned down in the nose. I had again been ready for an all-out assault on the senses, in traditional Dogfish Head fashion, but they seemed to be going strictly for authenticity. Again, I’m left feeling perplexed.
Tipping back the glass, the introduction is like a pale malt softness, with a touch of honey just coming through. Just past the center and into the finish, the chocolate and chili appear nearly side by side, but the subtlety of each complements the other perfectly. Makes me think of a Mastercard commercial where the dessert at a fancy restaurant is a chocolate-covered spicy pepper, and I’m thinking: who the hell would order that? Nevermind that, this beer exudes complexity, but at a whisper rather than a shout.
Well, color me impressed. Dogfish Head can do a balanced beer, and do it well, albeit at an unnoticeable 9% abv. Can’t say it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted, but it’s just the right combination of well-proportioned complexity, novelty, and historically-tied beer nerdism that makes it enjoyable. It’s truly unlike anything I’ve ever tried, and it speaks to beer’s seemingly limitless possibilities. It’s an extreme beer without going to extremes, and for that, I’ve got to tip my hat to Sam and his brewery.
A public relations firm working on behalf of the Newcastle Brown Ale brand contacted me about their Holiday “MAN-ual”, a survival guide for men (sorry, ladies…) during the holiday season. It includes recipe tips and ideas for making it through Thanksgiving and Christmas with limited culinary skills or imagination, which sounds ideal for a chap such as myself. But you know how I get through these days of family gatherings and slothful afternoons? Plenty of beer.
Anyway, they were nice enough to send a six pack of their famous alcoholic beverage with this “MAN-ual,” and I drank most of it before realizing that I should probably review the beer itself, regardless of the bells and whistles that came with it.
Now, I think the idea of clear bottles for any beer is a bad one, but this sixer was well-packed to avoid breakage and it didn’t seem like light damage would be an issue. Nevertheless, if you buy a beer that’s packaged in a clear or green bottle, it’s a wise idea to buy a twelve-pack so 
that it’s less likely to be light-struck. But I digress…
Newcastle Brown Ale pours a translucent, dark-russet color with barely a centimeter of off-white head from a swift pour. The nose is of caramel and molasses, and the hops smell a bit on the earthy side, but nothing is overpowering. The sweet brown sugary notes are what stand out, and this beer actually smells rather appetizing.
But upon taking the initial sip, I notice right away how thin the body is. There is a flash of sweetness up front, followed by an appearance of those earthy hops that is just as brief. The caramel malt profile just doesn’t seem to be much of a factor, despite the beer’s color, which is a shame. In the finish, it washes out and there’s not much to enjoy, save for a subtle lingering of that caramel note after the beer has warmed up considerably.
Had the malty side been more fortified, perhaps beefing up the body with some carbonation in conjunction, this could actually be a much better beer. And while it seems to give a nod to its low-abv, easily gulpable cousins in the UK, it misses the mark on the delivery; it’s like a sad homage to its roots. But from my impression, this beer is all about drinkability, not pleasing throngs of beer geeks. Which is why I drank the first five out of the bottle, and I have a feeling that’s how it’s supposed to be consumed. I’m sure that may seem rather uncouth, but it was free. All I can say is, I don’t see you brewing a beer and sending me a sample on the arm…
While I may be a little behind the curve on this one, at the end of last month the executive branch of the European Union granted protected name status to Czech beer. Evan Rail mentioned this possibility back in February, as it was still being debated by the European Commission, but it has finally come to pass. Add that to the protected appellation of Saaz hops, standing alongside the confusingly non-protected Pilsner style, which clearly originated in the town of Plzen.
So how many Czech brewers will seek to apply the “české pivo” namesake to their labels, and what importance could it have? Distinction is one thing, and for those concerned with “beer terroir,” it could make all the difference. But what about the impact on the Czech beer market? Director of the Czech Beer and Malt Association, Jan Veselý, had this to say:
The protected designation might not mean so much for large, well known breweries such as Budweiser and Prazdroj, which are known to be as Czech as Guinness is Irish, but small family beer producers will finally start fully benefiting from their specialties.
How will this assist smaller breweries that have less distribution and are not tied to SABMiller or any other giant brewing firm? Granted, foreign beer lovers may be delighted to learn that certain beers in their markets are authentically Czech, but how does that help increase sales or expand these beers’ distribution network? When Pilsner Urquell is cheaper in Germany than in the Czech Republic, you have to wonder.
Furthermore, with several brewing operations in other countries, such as PU’s output in Russia, does the “české pivo” moniker only apply to the beer actually brewed within Prazdroj’s walls in Plzen? Not having seen the final criteria myself, the Prague Post article mentions that the beer “must use precise ingredients, and the final product must have a certain quality of color, taste and foam, as well as an alcohol content of 2.6–6 percent.” Precise ingredients, I can take a guess at what those are supposed to be. But I’d be interested to see what recipe restrictions are required in terms of quantity for each style. Color can be judged using SRM or EBC scales, but I’m not sure how taste would be determined for the variety of beers produced in the Czech Republic. And if it’s brewed in Brno, measured to be the perfect color and taste, but weighs in at 6.5% alcohol by volume, it’s not Czech?
While this appears to be a good-natured effort to promote Czech beer abroad, and one that I think could eventually have positive consequences for their respective breweries, it appears to be an amalgamation of the Reinheitsgebot and BJCP style guidelines. Breweries like Pivovar Kocour have been making waves in the land of lagers by cooking up some exciting beers (believe it or not, ales!), and apparently Czech beer lovers can’t get enough. Do these guidelines prohibit them from being worthy of the “české pivo” label?
Perhaps inspiration from brewers in other countries has influenced these new rogues in the Czech beer world, and in doing so, is helping to break the staid bonds of tradition. Then again, tradition and preservation seem to be what many of these efforts to cling to style are all about, and it gives historical and geographical credit where credit is due. But if these innovative Czech brewers cannot apply this newly approved label to their products, will they suffer for it, or thrive because of it?
Full disclosure: there are currently twelve bottles of deliciously crisp Pilsner Urquell in my fridge at the moment. – E.S.
A recent AP article gave an informative primer on the world of seasonal beers, focusing mainly on fall and winter, and it got me thinking along the lines of just what these special releases are all about. I am an unabashed fan of seasonal beers, and consider them to be part of the larger “special release” umbrella, such as a brewery’s anniversary offering or a one-off run of something esoteric. Certain occasions call for certain beers.
But there are some who view the seasonal as a marketing ploy, and in this day in age, it seems harder and harder to tell the forest from the trees. Are breweries (big and small) driven by the desire to celebrate the season, or are they confident that enough curious drinkers will be lured in by the words “pumpkin” or “winter” around the holidays?
Without the modern conveniences of high-tech brewing equipment or refrigeration, brewers in days of yore were limited by the change of the weather, often relying on natural elements (including wild yeast!) to control the fermentation process and produce a desired outcome. Hence the Oktoberfest style having the alternate name “Märzen,” originating from the German word for the month of March, when this beer was 
traditionally brewed. Consumption was expected to occur during the Oktoberfest festivities. Same with Maibock, intended to be imbibed before summer sets in.
So there are obvious historical connections between seasonal beers and their releases. But if you peruse the shelves of your local beer emporium, or even the beer aisle at the grocery store, you’re bound to come across one seasonal release or another at any given time of year. Even the larger brewing outfits have gotten on board the seasonal express, coming out with beers that have misleading names for the holidays. It’s the excitement that beer lovers get prior to cracking the first bottle of a beer they’ve never had, and then when they try a new brew and evaluate it, realizing that it may only come around once a year, or maybe only once ever. That curiosity is also what draws casual beer drinkers in, and that can add up to a nice little profit for a release that’s brewed in limited batches. And like I sucker, I fall for it every time.
One feature I do enjoy is the Sam Adams Seasonal tap at several area bars (that don’t necessarily cater to beer geeks), which guarantees you’ll always get something different and worthwhile if caught in a sea of pale macro lager. It’s comforting and refreshing to know you can get a solid beer from a sizeable outfit that rotates with the time of year. But I’m really only motivated by seasonal beers when the weather turns cold.
While summer seasonals do exist, I find many of them to be rather pedestrian. Sure, I could say that about some fall and winter ones as well, but it seems to me that summer beers are often mere Wits/Wheats, Hefeweizens, and Pale Ales with a new label. Sometimes, they’re just the same beers that’re available all year. Granted, drinking lighter beers during the summer has its merits and makes sense, and I do tend to go for the more crisp and clean offerings then. But without spices, or a ramped-up malt factor, it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around a summer seasonal in terms of it being specially designed for that season. To me, I can drink a Kölsch year-round and be just as satisfied, it’s just that those special release Imperial Stouts normally invade my cabinet around this point in the year.
On just about any day on the calendar, you can find some sort of beer that’s released with a season in mind. Over the past thirty years, options for fans of quality beer have increased ten-fold (not an exact figure), and we are richer for it. However, any old brand, whether it’s from your local microbrewery/brewpub or from the brewing juggernaut a few states away, can release and market a seasonal beer, and probably do fairly well with it given the logistics go smoothly.
The mentality appears to be, ‘you keep drinkin’ ‘em, we’ll keep brewin’ ‘em.’ It’s a virtuous and vicious circle.
Looks like it’s been a strong first quarter for the MillerCoors joint venture here in North America. According to the Business Journal of Milwaukee, they’ve experienced 15.2% growth in net income, which has mostly been due to cost saving from their consolidation, expected to be in the area of $50 million by June 30th of next year.
And for all the initial success of Miller Chill, it seems that Bud Light Lime has taken some wind out of the former’s sails/sales. Not to mention the costs for launching MGD 64. Considering those setbacks, the joint venture seems to be going swimmingly. But Molson Coors has also announced its role in the purchase of a 5% stake in Foster’s Group, so that could help bring in some income that could help offset the cash hemorrhaging from the Molson brand.
Keeping in mind the success of the joint venture, part of the MillerCoors plan is to cut up to 350 jobs over the next six months. They announced today that 269 would be cut immediately. This is all part of their expectations to save $350 million in their second year of existence, and seems to be a shrewd and calculated effort to assert themselves and stay competitive with their InBev (Anheuser-Busch) rivals.
Speaking of which, Anheuser-Busch American Ale ain’t half bad, to be honest. I won’t nerd out on you here, but let’s just say it seems to be a nod to a straight-up pale ale like Sierra Nevada, only with a distinctly A-B going for crisp aftertaste. Sure it’s no nectar of the gods, but if I’ve got to choose between that and Miller Chill, it’s a no-brainer.
Recent Comments