Session #65: On not drinking alone

The SessionFor The Session #65 Nate Southwood asked that we write about going to the pub, or bar, alone.

From the first pages of The Beer Travelers Guide (1995 – the 7,383,107th best seller on Amazon, last time I looked):

Broad Ripple Brewpub owner John Hill (in Indianapolis) likes to tell a story about when he was growing up in Yorkshire, England, and would visit pubs with his father. While it may have appeared to an outside that neighborhood pubs were serving the same beer, the locals knew better. “One cellarman might be adding a little brown sugar, another kept his beer a little fresher . . .,” Hill recalled.

So John’s father had his favorite pubs, but if one of them was nearly empty while the place across the street was busy, he would head to the less-favored one. Why? Because, as Hill says, “An Englishman doesn’t drink alone.”

The world’s best drinking companion and I wrote that to explain what we were looking for when we compiled the guide. But also to make a point about how Beer Different (sort of like Santa Fe likes to be known as “The City Different”) had changed things for the better. When you walked into a brewpub, or a bar serving Beer Different you could usually expect you wouldn’t have to drink alone. That there’d be a conversation waiting because there was a good chance you shared something in common with the other customers. Yes, beer, but usually something else.

This may be a Pollyannaish view. And it might have worked just as well in an Old Style bar. I never bothered to find out. That was probably a mistake, because I like eavesdropping in bars almost as much as I like talking. I once stopped in this spot (the Sandia Bar), which was about a mile from our house in New Mexico, and asked what beers they had. Sometimes a place will at least have a bottle of Samuel Adams stuck in the cooler (although it might be two years old; true story). Not here.

Too bad, because later they shot a bit of “Breaking Bad” in the bar. Dean Morris, who plays Hank, rented a house in Corrales while the series was being shot and apparently stopped in from time to time. Now that would have been some good eavesdropping.

So, tangent over, back to The Session and talking beer because, philosophizing aside, that is what The Session is supposed to be about. Monday I had a few of them in a few places with the famous Thirsty Pilgrim (Joe Stange), starting appropriately enough with an Urban Chestnut beer served in a stange (and I shouldn’t have to tell you what German city it reminded us of). I finished with tart wheat beer from 4 Hands Brewing (again, you should be able to figure out the German city).

Rumor has it that it will be 105° today in St. Louis, as it has been pretty much every day for more than a week. Thank goodness there are beers like these, brewed for Summer in the City.

What would Procol Harum drink?

Bring on the vestal virgins.

The White IPAs are upon us. This is not a bad idea, marrying Belgian White beers with New World hops, at least until somebody starts writing new style guidelines. Last year’s collaboration beers from Deschutes Brewery and Boulevard Brewing proved that. Boulevard’s version even won a medal at the Great American Beer Festival (in the American-Belgo-Style Ale category).

The skinny:

* Deschutes Chainbreaker White I.P.A. It will released be in the Northwest in March. Not the same recipe as in the collaboration with Boulevard (no sage, for one thing). 5.6% ABV, 60 IBUs.

* Samuel Adams Whitewater IPA. Available now in the Brewer’s Choice Variety 12-Pack and soon in six-packs. Hops from the American Northwest and Australia. 5.8% ABV.

* Saranac White IPA. “We’ve taken a delicious American IPA bursting with Citra hops, and given it a whole new direction by adding the refreshing fruitiness of orange peel & coriander and the softening characters of wheat malt and oats.” 6% ABV.

And, yes, there’s every chance I posted this only so I could add still more links to different versions of “Whiter Shade of Pale” . . .
– A version with strings (tent included).
Joe Cocker. I apologize if you get an obnoxious ad.
Gov’t Mule.
Percy Sledge. Not at his best, but comes with lyrics you can read.
Annie Lennox. Honest to goodness, you have different Annie Lennox versions to choose from. I went with artsy.
Willie Nelson. Yes, there’s every chance I’ve spent too much time fully vetting these videos.

Chocolate memories, courtesy of Boulevard

What if Dumon in Brugge sold Boulevard Chocolate Ale?

Boulevard Smokestack Chocolate AleHaving once accidentally driven a car into a large pedestrian-only square in Brugge I can assure you this is a city best enjoyed on foot. You can just stop and stare at the architecture. That the streets are narrow and winding becomes charming instead of exasperating. And there are the chocolate shops.

We are partial to Chocolatier Dumon. I cannot guarantee the chocolate there is any better, although I know it’s pretty good. First of all, I’m a sucker for molded chocolate “art,” even if everything we tried to bring back from our first trip didn’t make it in one piece. Second, the variety is spectacular. It’s a great place to just stand and inhale.

And that was the first thing I thought of when I worked the cork free of a bottle of Boulevard’s Smokestack Chocolate Ale. Cocoa dusted truffles. Rich dark fruits. Caramel and rum. A rush of aromas that themselves must be fattening.

Plus, on a personal note, there’s the Brugge (or Bruges) factor. In the movie “In Bruges” Colin Farrell’s character (Ray) mutters, “Maybe that’s what hell is, the entire rest of eternity spent in f*cking Bruges.” He’s nuts. You want to spend New Year’s Eve here; you hope your niece marries somebody Flemish and the reception is here on a bright June day. No doubt that Chocolatier Dumon and the city of Brugge itself provide a halo effect for Chocolate Ale.

Last year seemingly every beer drinking soul in Kansas City went nutso over this beer brewed in collaboration with local chocolate hero chef Christopher Elbow. There were stories about people following delivery trucks and trying to bribe drivers into selling them a bottle directly. Some liquor stores were asking $25 a bottle (instead of the standard $9-$12) and we won’t even mention eBay. The beer disappeared fast.

I can’t tell you how fast it went here in St. Louis, because Sierra and I were still in New Mexico. However a month after the madness had subsided in Kansas City we visited St. Louis and drank it at Pi Pizzeria on Delmar. It was even brighter on tap.

Last year Boulevard produced 1,600 cases of Chocolate Ale, a standard run for a Smokestack seasonal. This year they brewed two-and-a-half times that, more than any of its limited releases ever. It’s on the shelves. I’m not predicting how long it will last.

I’m pretty sure they won’t have to advertise every bottle comes with a chocolate memory of Brugge. But they could.

Feb. 15: Boulevard Brewing announced it was offering refunds on a limited number of batches — up to a third of the bottles of chocolate ale sold — that the brewery said didn’t meet its standards. You can watch the announcement here.

Alaskan Smoked Porter – Nothing fishy here

Alaskan Smoked PorterAlaskan Brewing co-founder Geoff Larson tells a good story. One you want to listen sitting next to a roaring fire on a Juneau beach.

Like the one about what he learned not long after Alaskan brewed its Smoked Porter for the first time in 1988; a beer that recently won its twentieth medal at the Great American Beer Festival.

Larson smoked the malt he used in Smoked Porter at Taku Smokeries, at the time located across the road from the brewery (Taku since moved to a bigger plant and Alaskan bought the old facility, using it smoke malt for the once-a-year release). He had a few reservations going in, most notably about fish oils somehow ending up in the beer, changing the aroma and killing the head. Those concerns disappeared when he tasted the beers and it sold out in a matter of weeks, then . . .

A customer told Larson the beer tasted of salmon. “I took it inappropriately and defensively,” he said, measuring his words and making it clear how bothered he was. It was months later before he had a conversation with the late Greg Noonan of Vermont Pub & Brewery about Noonan’s version of smoked porter that he learned something important about aroma and memory.

“Greg talked about first using hickory and customers would ask if he put hickory smoked ham in the beer,” Larson said. “Then he used maple and they asked, ‘Hey, did you start throwing sausage in your beer?'”

Larson began to understand the powerful memories smoke evokes. He realized it wasn’t salmon that drinker noticed but the alder wood both the malt and fish were smoked over. In Southeast Alaska smoke from alder wood conjures up memories of campfires and smoked salmon, while elsewhere maple smoke reminds consumers of Jimmy Dean Sausage.

(And in the upper Franconian region of Germany where beechwood is used to smoke pork as well as malt to brew the local rauchbier some drinkers describe the more intense of these beers as “liquid bacon.”)

“One smoked malt is not the same as another smoked malt. You can taste the difference between woods,” Larson said.

Last week Alaskan released the 23rd vintage of Smoked Porter. Alaskan doesn’t sell beer in Missouri, so we opened a 2009 bottle we bought a couple of years ago in Arizona.

Still smoky, from the start to the finish. But for us, the real pleasure? It smelled just like Alaska.

Which beer is not like the others? 11.03.11

The goal is to identify the outlier and explain why it doesn’t belong on the list. There may be more than one answer, although I happen to have a specific one in mind. (In this case, reviewing the list because I did a lousy job of vetting the previous round I spotted a second likely answer, so Answer 1a wins the same prize as Answer 1.)

a) Blue Moon Belgian White
b) Brooklyn Winter Ale
d) Southampton Double White Ale
d) Smuttynose Pumpkin Ale
e) Saranac Pumpkin Ale

In case you’ve forgotten: Round one ~ Round two ~ Round three ~ Round four ~ Round five.