A while back, I made snide comments about a local brewery. Which doesn’t mean I didn’t believe them to be true, just–snide, is all.
This last Saturday said brewery was sampling their wares at the Farmer’s Market in my neck of the woods, so I tried their IPA, and Mr. Fuz, their porter. While I was less entranced by the porter (I didn’t hate the sip I had, but I didn’t love it), the IPA was actually a solid brew.
Perhaps I should make time to re-evaluate their beers.
I’m at my regular, and the place is almost deserted. Which is good for me, because it means that there are few who might look askance at my request to watch tennis.
And I’m enjoying–really, truly enjoying–the Sound Brewing’s Monk’s Indiscretion. It’s bright and clear, a medium-gold color with a somewhat hefty body–not the body that I was expecting. The mouthfeel is full and rich, with a good chunk of citrusy hops that add a delightful fragrance.
But where is the Belgian in this Belgian beer? It took a while for me to come up with the answer, and–while it shouldn’t have surprised me, it did. The yeast was the thing that made this beer a Belgian. While the body and the nose gave me two different profiles, overall, the profile had that slightly saponaceous quality that I associate with Belgians.
A delightful beer for truth-telling and tennis-watching.
…you get a muddy, disagreeable beer.
It’s not muddy in an optical sense–the beer looks clear, but it doesn’t taste clear. It’s golden, yet tastes like dirt. And the back end is highly disagreeable.
Plus trop de terroir; il ne me plait pas.
(Note: I honestly don’t blame the bartender. I gave her certain specifications, and she met them. Still…)
First, I will give you a picture, and let me see if you can’t see something in it:
That’s right. Crowds. Mr. Fuz and I went to the 2:00 session of Bailey’s Taproom’s 4th anniversary party, lo these three weeks ago. The regular session opened at 4:00, was $15, and came with four tastes. The 2:00 session came with five tastes, but for the steeper price of $30. Was it worth it?, you ask.
What do you think?, I reply.
Now, for the beers, labeled F1-6. The beer nearest the camera is mine. The lovely Mr. Fuz is the backdrop.
F1 is the Fort George Bourbon Cavatica (Imperial Stout, bourbon barrel-aged), which I find abrasive at first. It’s got a strong whack of the barrel, followed by hints of strong espresso and sour cherry. There’s a drying effect immediately noticeable, coming from the sour components of the beer. Cavatica certainly becomes more subtle as it goes along.
F2 is The Bruery Cuir, a barleywine aged in bourbon barrels. At an astounding 14.5%, it’s the strongest beer on the list. But at first I think I’ve been served the wrong beer. The beer conveys perfume (by which I mean some sort of masculine cologne that Avon might have dreamed up in the 70s), black and green peppercorn on the nose, musk, wood, and clove. Was I served the Breakside Gin, I thought? There’s juniper in here, I thought. And again, as the beer warmed up, I felt the beer drop more into a style. Even though the alcohol wasn’t noticeable, this certainly was a strong beer, and a little went a long way. It was also exceptionally good, and I’d seek it out.
F3 was the Block 15 Golden Canary, which was a 4-beer blend sour aged in Pinot barrels. It poured nicely, with an excellent color and a good head. It came across as light, pleasant, and with a nice pucker, while hinting at the grape of the barrel. The beer didn’t hit the sour out of the park, but was still quite nice, and easily quaffable.
F4 was the Russian River ’10 Supplication, aged in pinot noir barrels. What can I say? It’s the Supplication; it’s a great beer. Though…perhaps there was a bit too much barrel?
F5 was, if anything, the disappointment of the day for me. The Lompoc sour Willy, a five-beer blend aged in merlot and port barrels, was not something I expected to be great. But you don’t bring a knife to a tactical nuke fight, and I felt that’s what Lompoc offered. It was buttery, but in all other senses mild and meek. This was the beer that R and I got through.
I’ve enjoyed many Lompoc beers in my time. But this was, I felt, a sub-par effort–though, again, I give them credit for reaching outside their wheelhouse to try something new.
F6, alas, has no picture. The Breakside Gin Barrel Double Wit was outstanding. It was buttery, herbaceous, citrusy, floral, with perhaps the merest hint of juniper. It was an exceptional beer to close the event.
Finally, one more great thing about the earlier event: there was a raffle. And I won this:
Thanks Geoff and crew. I had a great time, as always, even better because I could sit and have a nice conversation with Mr. Fuz while we drank.
As a non-carnivore, I find that I tend to judge places based on their name and marketing. There’s a tiny shop on 6th in Tacoma called Red Hot that I hadn’t seriously checked out. From the OnTap listings they always had a decent beer or five on line, but I couldn’t get past the name, and the concept it implied.
What’s a vegetarian going to do at a hot-dog stand? I mean, sure, I could drink beer, but I like my beer with some comestible, as a general rule, particularly if I’m drinking during the daytime hours. (Keeps the judgment down to acceptable levels).
But seriously, what’s a vegetarian going to eat at a hot dog place?
Plenty, it turns out, since the Red Hot has both veggie dogs and veggie brats. Now, mind you, I’m still not going to be able to order any of their bacon/chili combinations (though the Hosmer Hound, rhapsodized upon by my neighbor, looked awfully tempting), but the standard offerings? Not a problem.
The North End Not Dog was just like a Chicago, with a veggie dog instead of the standard beef offering. While the texture was a bit off (as is the case with most non-meat sausages), the flavor was nearly comparable to that of a beef hot dog. And the toppings were fresh, plentiful, and slightly painful (apparently, sport peppers are hot).
The beer? I went with the Boulder IPA, reasonably priced and quite enjoyable. Mr. Fuz had a pear cider. After I ordered, my eye fell to the Dogfish Head Burton Baton, which I had wanted to try. There was a discussion:
Mr. Fuz: “Are you going to get something else?”
Me: “Well, I’d like another beer–specifically, the Burton. But I’d only get something if you were having another hot dog. And I shouldn’t drive if I get the beer.”
Mr. Fuz waves the second hot dog off, then. Apparently, my liver is more important to him than a hot dog slathered in peanut butter and covered in bacon. That’s touching, in its own way.
I’m back at home, back at my familiar haunts. (This stool at my regular does not bear my backside’s imprint–a testament to my self-control, frankly.)
And it’s good to be home.
But while I’m enjoying a quesadilah (as the charming barmaid pronounces it, to tweak my nose) and a Fremont Summer Solstice at my regular, I want to remember one brewery from my travels–and, in particular, one beer.
The brewery is Terrapin, based out of Athens, Georgia; the beer is Rye Squared. And it was delicious.
Rye Squared is a double rye pale ale–that is, a highly-hopped pale squared with a healthy tempering of rye (also squared). The pale (and, in particular, the IPA) is a genre I am learning to appreciate, but am still a bit wary of, so I have been trying to come at it through its variants.
The beer pours a coppery-red in color; the flavor is an attenuated IPA, an IPA held in check with a health dose of toasty grain sweetness. So although the piney, citrus notes of the best hops come through with less assertiveness than in your standard Northwest IPA, I didn’t feel that there was anything lacking in the presentation. The goal was never simply bitter, but balance and flavor.
Additionally, the beer handled a Willy Wonka trick quite well, shifting in the latter half to a sweeter, rounder, fuller-bodied, malty brew. The relatively high alcohol (8.5 or 9.5%, as their website lists both) plays a supporting role, but never breaks through and distracts from the flavor. As a result, Rye Squared came across as almost sessionable–a dangerous, tempting proposition that the sane should reject.
I don’t think Terrapin beers will ever make their way up to the Pacific Northwest, and if they do, I wonder what sort of success they would meet with (their Hopsecutioner, while nicely hopped, would fall far short of what we’d expect from a beer named “Hopsecutioner”). I couldn’t imagine their Rye Squared would not find success here, though.
Well, I’m a bit ashamed of myself.
Now, I cannot tell a lie: I’ve had better beers. By far. Name Tag (from Trader Joe’s, natch–supplied by Minhas Craft Brewery) will not win any gold medals at any competitions, unless the competition in question is the Alleyway Beer Festival.
And yet, there’s something to be said for simple, relatively mild, unassuming, cheap, non-skunky beers. This beer fits that bill. Because some days, you just want cold, carbonated alcohol delivery systems. You don’t want to worry about the hops, or obsess over the kind of whiskey barrel your beer had rested in for six months.
Sometimes, damnit, you just want a beer. And this could be that beer. And, for $2.99/6-pack, it might as well be that beer.
Mind you, I bought Name Tag so that Mr. Fuz won’t use the good stuff when he makes red beer. But I’m glad to know that, in a pinch, this could serve as more than a flotation device.
Next on tap: My recently discovered tasting notes from Bailey’s Taproom’s Anniversary Party last July! Proof that spring cleaning is actually worthwhile.
Creamy butterscotch,
Vanilla from the barrel:
Perfect barleywine
So, there’s this brewery in Kentucky. And they make Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale.
Yes. They make ale, and then age it in “newly decanted” (or “seasoned”) bourbon barrels. (The quotes are from their Website; they’re also my indication that I have no idea what they mean.)
The result is a rather headless beer which packs a wallop in the glass. It’s strong, and bold in flavor. Most barrel-aged beers are using end-of-life barrels; this comes across as if they drafted a young crop.
The flavor? Well, it’s ale with a large whack of vanilla and coconut. Which is, oddly, the kind of flavor profile that would make me put down a mixed drink. But here, it’s actually quite good. And warming–which, unfortunately, was something to take into account in Kentucky this time around.
I’m actually not sorry I don’t have this more than once a year. OK, maybe twice would be nice. I’m just sorry that I can’t share this with friends in the Pacific Northwest very easily.
Maybe I should drink more Seven Seas beer, incredibly hot beer rep.
If I do, will you take off your Seven Seas shirt and give it to me? It’s just…um…I like the color.
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