beers of conviction

Evan Benn writes today about the rush to buy bottles of Goose Island Sofie the brewery recalled because “… Goose Island Sofie uses natural products and the hallmark of Belgian-style beers — wild fermentation. This particular natural variation was new and resulted in flavors that weren’t what we expected so we implemented a method for controlling for that variation.”

When he visited the Wine and Cheese Place in Clayton (a store I can now walk to) he was a little surprised that he wasn’t the only one looking for bottles from the tainted batch.

He turned out not to be impressed, writing: “Real Sofie tastes slightly fruity, slightly spicy, with a zesty carbonation that results in a champagnelike finish. The Feb. 11 sample had muddled aromas and flavors, including some rancid butter and vaguely sour elements, and dull carbonation. I couldn’t choke down all of the contents of the 22-ounce bottle, leaving about half of it for a beer-loving friend to try.”

But I’m sure there are drinkers who just love the alternative version.

And a few weeks ago Daria (my wife, for those of you new here) poured beer for Boulevard Brewing when she volunteered at the St. Louis MicroFest. They weren’t serving the recently released the Smokestack Imperial Stout, but festivalgoers wanted to know where you could buy Batch #2. Boulevard is offering a refund for those who purchased that batch, because . . .

Prior to the March release our tasting panel sampled several bottles of the new barrel aged beer. Some turned out as expected, while others displayed the unique characteristics of wild Brettanomyces yeast. We immediately posted tasting notes to our blog, announcing the deviation and noting the differences in flavor profiles. Because our tasting panel very much enjoyed both versions, we decided to proceed with the release as usual.

It is Batch #2 of the 2011 Imperial Stout that exhibits the Brettanomyces trait. In retrospect, we should have called attention to this Brett character on the label. Because we didn’t, and because some consumers got a beer that was different from the one they had a legitimate right to expect, we’re offering a refund to anybody who feels shortchanged, and who can reasonably demonstrate that they did in fact buy a bottle of Batch #2 of our 2011 Imperial Stout.

I had Batch #1 and it was delightful, rich and decadent. But what set it apart was its texture; a combination of mouthfeel and layers of flavor not unlike the Firestone Walker anniversary beers. Brettanomyces will literally chew away at that texture.

I like many of my favorite styles, including saisons and IPAs, drier than most (perhaps why once when I was judging saisons in a competition a friend said, “You’re Mr. Attenuation”). And I’m curious about a lot of things. But were I to find Smokestack Imperial Stout in a store I’d buy Batch #1 rather than #2. Sometimes you just want a sure thing.

No. 1

Jeff Alworth (at Beervana) asks readers to comment on this hypothesis: “Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is a foundational beer in American brewing and was instrumental in setting the course for craft brewing.”

No. 2

George de Piro, brewmaster at C.H. Evans Brewing Co. in New York and parttime blogger, asks this question: “What beer did you once love but now no longer (or seldom) drink?

He even volunteers to go first, naming Catamount Stout, Spaten Franziskaner, and (drumroll, please) Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

He writes: ” I haven’t really divorced this beer (SNPA), but I haven’t had a steady relationship with it in many years. It’s a great style made to very high standards, but I am so familiar with it that I usually go for something different when I’m out for a beer.”

No. 3

In the Washington Post Greg Kitsock suggested “plain old pale ale has become almost the Wonder bread of craft beer: a ubiquitous product often dismissed as a ‘gateway’ beer for neophytes.” He doesn’t dismiss them, examining how many breweries “are taking a new look at an old style.” Just to be clear, that style is (American) pale ale.

I suspect the comments you find following Alworth’s and de Piro’s posts are not much different than the conversations that would result were these questions raised (and they probably have been several times) at Rate Beer and Beer Advocate.

From a broad, historic (and business) viewpoint there can be little debate that SNPA is a foundation beer. But if there had never been Sierra Nevada Pale Ale would Pierre Celis not have been inspired to start the Celis Brewery in Austin, Texas, and would Rob Tod not been have further inspired to brew Allagash White. No way to know. It’s complicated. Particularly when you consider writing or talking about the diversity of beer really means writing/talking about the diversity of people who drink beer.*

Or as Cajun music legend D.L. Menard puts it, “No matter where you at, there you are.”

* I could have typed “craft beer” rather than ‘beer” twice in that sentence but I think it works fine with two fewer words.

The plan Saturday was no thinking about the forest. No wringing of hands while considering the BIG PICTURE, stuff like Anheuser-Busch InBev buying Goose Island or those breweries leaving markets they previously shipped beers to. Instead it was supposed to be a day to focus on the trees. In other words, what’s in the glass. Chat with friends, listen to a little music.

And that’s what I did for the most part. However standing in the 27,000-square foot ballroom of the Sandia Resort & Casino during Albuquerque Blues and Brews, watching it quickly fill and then hearing a brewer — who at the time was pouring two-ounce servings as fast as he could — say that all the tickets were gone I couldn’t help but think the pace of change, at least in New Mexico, seems to have accelerated.

The people pouring beer, particularly those who work for breweries, certainly were surprised. And smiling a lot. Somewhere north of 30 breweries served beer, as well as Dukes of Ale homebrew club (four beers). Counting is a little tricky because do you consider Rio Grande and Sierra Blanca one brewery or two (two brands from the same brewery, so I’d say one)?

And it’s a scene now being played out every week across the country. Anyway, enough forest. A few observations and a bit of news (none of which will be of much interest unless you live in New Mexico):

* Same, but different I. It’s nice to have Il Vicino Wet Mountain IPA back. The brewery quit producing last summer while it moved its equipment to a new location, and only recently resumed brewing. There is no shortage of IPAs these days (more IPAs than breweries on Saturday if you count amped up versions; four pilsners), but Wet Mountain is part of the local landscape.

This is a beer with a pedigree. It won the gold medal at the 1996 World Beer Cup, when the second and third place beer were were Blind Pig IPA (Vinnie Cilurzo was brewing in Temecula) and Avery IPA. Of course it is a different beer today than in 1996. Still begins with Centennial hops, lots of grapefruit, and Cascade — a bright “wake up, time for breakfast” nose — but now brewed with Simcoe hops. More pine, with herbal notes often described as “dank.”

* Same, but different II. If there is such a color as twice white then it fairly describes the latest vintage of Marble Double White (a seasonal beer just returning). Classic Belgian White/Wit milkish white color that shimmers in the glass. What’s different this year is Ted Rice has changed the yeast strain used to make the beer, seeking to replace notes of clove (technically a fermentation compound called 4-vinyl guaiacol) with notes of pepper (same compound, not as noisy).

I probably shouldn’t have spent the morning working in the yard, inhaling a toxic combination of pollen and sand, then headed to a beer festival. That could be the reason I thought I might sneeze when I smelled the beer. Or maybe it was the hint of white pepper.

* Bad is bad. After surveying the Bad Ass Brewery selection from a distance I asked some drinkers who’d sampled beers from this new “nano-brewery” what they’d recommend. “Not this one” was the most popular answer. I ordered the obnoxiously named European Whore after the person pouring beers told me it was a golden ale fermented with Belgian yeast.

It smelled of band aids and loaded baby diaper (I originally referred to “the ugly smell of . . . ” but realized this combination could never be pretty). Sorry, I can’t tell you what it tasted like. I had no urge to explore further. In all fairness, good brewers occasionally make bad beers. Many breweries get better as they mature. I’m moving, so somebody else will have to tell me how this turns out.

* Blame the people at the bar. It’s been four months since La Cumbre Brewing opened in Albuquerque, but you pretty much have to go to the brewery to find its beers. That’s because people keep showing up at 313 Girard Boulevard NE to drink it first. Jeff Erway can brew more beer, but he has needs more tanks to ferment it in. He has both fermentation and serving tanks on the way, along with additional kegs, but — given that he was wrapping up a 100-hour work week and had to leave the festival to deal with a problem at the brewery — Saturday didn’t seem like the time to ask him about his plans to package beer in cans.

* The monks are learning to brew. The small brewery at Monastery of Christ in the Desert is ready for action. In fact, several of the monks are learning how to operate the equipment. However, they can only brew and dump test batches until the process of transferring the brewing license from the monastery in the Pecos is complete.

They will make only small specialty batches, leaving Sierra Blanca Brewing to brew Monks’ Ale and Monks’ Wit under contract.

*****

A second second set of eyes: The Albuquerque Beer Geek reports from the festival.

Pierre Celis died Saturday. He was 86 and best known for resurrecting the Belgian White “style” and an otherwise extraordinarily engaging gentleman whose influence cannot be overstated.

He was 40 years old, delivered milk for a living and had little brewing experience when he produced his first official batch of Oud Hoegaards Bier in 1966. Celis brewed fourteen times that year, producing 350 hectoliters (less than 300 barrels). Just over 5 feet tall, from the beginning he described himself as a “small brewer.”

Of course his brewery grew much larger and his became a big story, one that will be retold many times in the coming days. You’ll have to settle for a couple of small stories here.

* Rob Tod was working at Otter Creek Brewing Company in Vermont in 1994, when he sampled Celis White for the first time. “People were traveling, and they’d bring back beer. Every few weeks we’d have a tasting,” Tod said. On June 30, 1994, he left Otter Creek to start Allagash Brewing. One year to the day later, he put Allagash White on tap at Portland’s venerable Great Lost Bear.

Allagash has earned considerable fame for the range of beers the brewery now sells, but the White still accounts for more than three quarters of sales. Traveling in Belgium on Sunday, Todd told 5,000 followers on Twitter something they probably didn’t now. That Celis was dead. “Very, very sorry to hear the news of the passing of Pierre Celis… he was obviously a huge influence on Allagash.”

* Kevin Brand was an engineering and chemistry student at the University of Texas when he visited the Celis Brewery in Austin, a few years after Celis founded it in 1991. “It dawned on me that beer could be brewed here, not just in St. Louis,” Brand said.

A dozen years after he graduated and moved to the San Francisco Bay area, Brand returned to Austin and started (512) Brewing Company. He had only been open a month or so in 2008 when Pierre’s daughter, Christine Celis, who remained in Austin after the Celis Brewery closed in 2000, called to say her father would be visiting from Belgium and wanted to stop by (512). (Credit to Austin 360 for taking the photo at the top at that time.)

When he did he drank (512) Wit. It is not the best selling beer in the (512) lineup, but Brand likes the idea of keeping the Austin connection to wit alive. After he learned Celis would be coming he tracked down a distinctive heavy Hoegaarden glass, the heavy “jar” so closely associated with the brewery, so Celis could autograph it for him. “He had some great stories,” Brand said. He also talked shop, going into detail at times, providing Brand with ideas about how to improve his beer.

Pierre Celis deserves to be introduced as the man who popularized “Belgian White” beer literally around the world, who accelerated American interest in Belgian-inspired beers and encouraged greater creativity with projects like his own cave-aged beer. But just as important he remained a “small brewer,” one who proved to others “that beer could be brewed here.”