Holy rss feed, Batman, there are 500 to 800 wine blogs.
Enough that more than 100 participants have gathered in Sonoma County for the first American Wine Bloggers Conference. Take a minute to check out their agenda.
Alan, it might be time to get serious about an annual summer gathering.
This photo was taken relatively late in the afternoon Oct. 11, the day medals were handed out at the Great American Beer Festival. Late in the afternoon in Switzerland, that is. Still morning, eight hours earlier, in Denver.
When I sat down on a bench, pulled out my camera and shot the photo was I wondering about who might win GABF awards? Was I wishing I could taste a few old friends (beers that is)? Was I curious about what crazy new beers might have created a certain buzz?
Nope. I was thinking my feet hurt a bit, that the trees in the Alps are much prettier than those up and down the Rockies, and that wine and cheese was going to be awfully satisfying in several hours.
To be honest, I remembered GABF was going on. If Scotty could have beamed me 5,000 miles from Switzerland to Denver for a few hours I would not have complained. I was interested enough to track down a good awful smoky bar with wi-fi the next day to download the results of judging. Now, since the 150-year-old stone-walled French farmhouse we currently call home has a good Internet connection, I’ve been able to catchup up on a rather enormous amount of blog coverage.
I just typed, and deleted, five paragraphs full of links and notes about what I really missed (like checking in with friends I see only every year or two) and drawing some contrasts between what I read and what Daria and I saw at GABF in 1993. Instead one link to a video with Charlie Papazian (disclaimer, protagonists Neal Stewart and Mark Silva are friends).
And a bit of perspective from far away, after spending a little time with European beers (and sometimes their brewers), and a lot more looking at stuff hundreds to thousands of years old.
When I read and listen to a zillion words about the festival it’s easy to see why beer enthusiasts (including both brewers and drinkers) both admire what’s happened with American beer the last 30 years and also think we are more than a bit full of ourselves.
We are.
Sometimes that seems perfectly appropriate. Other times it reminds me of the American woman in a Swiss ice cream shop asking if she could pay using dollars. Not a moment I wanted to show off my passport.
When we first arrived in Europe I wrote I’d found gas cheaper that quality beer. Turns out that beer is less expensive in Germany than any other country we’ve been in (so far six beyond Germany) and German diesel gas is more expensive.
It gets more confusing when you hit Liechenstein and Switzerland, because you go from euros (worth more than the dollar) to Swiss francs (worth less). Suddenly it appears prices have gone up at least 50 percent. Usually more, because in Switzerland everything costs more. (They charge you two francs to use the toilet in the train station.)
With that in mind I will leave it to you convert these prices to dollars (worth more than when we arrived, making German beer cheaper still) seen in an upscale Swiss supermarket:
Chimay Grand Reserve 3.40 Swiss francs (all prices are for 33cl bottles) versus less than a euro in Belgium, Duvel 3.10, Leffe 2.70. La Fin du Monde (also seen in Paris) 3.20, Samuel Adams Boston Lager 2.80. A six-pack of Miller Genuine Draft 8.90 and a six-pack of Corona 15.50.
– I heard last week that the European Commission has rejected a request from the Halltertau hop growing region of Germany for an Appellation of Control (AOC). I know no details — and, sorry, won’t be tracking them down any time soon — like exactly what would be included in the designation. But, if you are inclined to do a little reporting yourself, the obvious question to ask is why did the EU accord Zatek Chmel a designation of origin and reject hops from the Halltertau region?
The EU has given 12 German brewing regions Protected Designation of Origin (PDO/Protected Geographical Indication (PGI). (Not news, just a bit of background.)
Back to Hallertau. Last week judges convened to evaluate this year’s crop, a reminder that the German hop industry focuses not only on where hops are grown but their quality. Panelists rate hops on aroma, appearance and other criteria, honoring the best of each variety.
I’m told that veteran judges may rub and sniff a few hops and tell immediately which yard they come from. It could be almost any kind, because each farm must grow multiple varieties (in order to stagger harvesting and get the most out of pretty dang expensive picking equipment). They’ll say something like “Oh, the soil in this guy’s farm is like this” (in German) and judging will slow while they discuss soil properties.
Sounds like terroir to me. How that is expressed in a beer? That’s up to the brewer.
If you’ve already read Evan Rail’s “Pilsner Urquell vs. Pilsner Urquell vs. Pilsner Urquell” post good for you. If not, then don’t bother with anything else. Go there now.
(I apologize that I’m getting to this more than a week after it was posted. I’m now resigned to the fact I’ll be constantly behind until December when we return to the States, perhaps longer.)
Evan examines Pilsner Urquell’s decision to brew other “Pilsner Urquell” beers in foreign countries.
So I asked why, if they were brewing beer elsewhere, those beers had to have the same name. The answer I received was that it was their brand.
“It’s a brand, like Volkswagen,” said head brewmaster Jan Hlavacek. “Volkswagen is made all over the world. It’s still called Volkswagen.”
This is important.
Spotted lasted Sunday at The Grand’Place/Grote Markt in Brussels: This baby-faced boy drinking Lindeman’s Kriek alongside what appeared to be (and acted like) his parents and grandparents.
Lindeman’s Kriek and Gueuze were being poured in the tent behind he family.
We’ve saw other young people drinking both beer and wine with the parents in Brussels restaurants.