When the Times discovered New Albion

Oops, I missed the anniversary on this by a bit. It was thirty years ago on June 12 that New York Times wine writer Frank Prial penned a full-length and very complimentary feature on Jack McAuliffe and his New Albion brewery. You have to pay to download a pdf version of the article, but it’s a great read through the lens of history.

This was so long ago that there was no reason for Prial to call New Albion a microbrewery, a craft brewery or a boutique brewery. Simply a brewery that made “what may be one of the country’s best beers.”

And . . . “At 95 cents to $1.05 per bottle, including deposit, it may well be the most expensive domestic beer sold.”

So let’s call it a buck for a 10-ounce bottle. Taking inflation into account that works out to 31 cents per ounce in 2009 dollars and cents. Or $3.72 for a 12-ounce bottle, $22.32 for a six-pack of those, and $7.84 for a 750ml bottle. Just so you know.

 

How many IBU? ‘About one hundred’

Oakshire BrewingMatt Van Wyk at Oakshire Brewing in Eugene, Oregon, has a new standard answer when he’s asked how many IBU (International Bitterness Units) are in one of his beers. “About one hundred.”

How many in the Perfect Storm Imperial IPA? “About one hundred.”

How many in the Oakshire Wheat? “About one hundred.”

He’s not trying to be rude, just having a little fun at festivals with a question brewers hear all the time. I think the answer is brilliant because it naturally moves the conversation from a number with questionable meaning to one about aroma and flavor.

Make no mistake. Hops are about more than bitterness, about more than being macho. They are about aroma and flavor.

That said, next week Stone Brewing releases its 13th Anniversary Ale and it’s been measured at 100 IBU. I emphasize the word measured because breweries and their fans sometimes toss around crazy claims about beers with 120 IBU and more. Next time somebody tells you a beer clocks 100-plus ask whoever tells that if he or she had seen a proper lab analysis. I know of a couple of beers that have topped 100, but only a couple.

Brewers should know better and what they say should reflect that. First because education has been an important part of craft brewing since the get-go. Second because when it comes to perceived bitterness the big numbers may not be that important. There’s some question if us mere mortals can actually detect any additional bitterness above 60 or 70 IBU.

Why do brewers fall into this trap? Everybody, and that includes me, asks about IBU. The number is a shorthand for telling us the volume of hops added to a recipe, which may well impact aroma and flavor. It’s unfortunate that a number sounds so precise, but is usually based on a formula a heck of a lot more accurate for beers of something sane like 40 IBU. Adjectives would be so much better, although it can be a challenge to describe the difference between piney and in-your-face-big-ass piney.

Stone 13th Anniversay AleTurn up the volume another notch or two from big-ass and you have Stone 13. That was the impression out of the tank when I tasted it, before it was dry-hopped for the second time. For the record Stone calls this a 90-plus IBU beer, but the first batch in the bottle measured dead-on one hundred. The lads in the brewery added four and a half pounds of hops per barrel, more than any Stone beer ever.

They did a quick check on the wort prior to fermentation and it measured about 130 IBU. A pretty impressive number, don’t you think? But . . . “IBUs drop during fermentation because the pH of the liquid drops from about 5.3 to about 4.5,” Stone brewmaster Mitch Steele explained via email. “This reduces the solubility of the iso-alpha-acids, the bittering component of hops, so some bitterness solidifies and drops out, and/or gets absorbed by yeast.”

So now you know what it’s best to say “about” when talking about the IBU in beers brewed with bunches of hops.

Balancing nature, tradition and progress in Alaska

It was a winter afternoon in Juneau, Alaska, more temperate than most in the Lower 48 would imagine but cold enough for frozen lakes and plenty of snow. A day of work done, Alaskan Brewing Company co-founder Marcy Larson headed out on cross-country skis with her dog, Jasmine, at her side.

They were headed to the Mendenhall Glacier when they came across Romeo, a black wolf well known to local residents. “People let their dogs play with him,” Larson said. “In my mind that’s a mistake. Then he’s not a wolf anymore.”

Romeo trotted toward Jasmine, signaling he wanted to play, but Larson and her dog moved on. When they reached the cliffs near the base of the glacier Jasmine was the first to spot a mountain goat about 30 feet above them. They paused again.

“We left him behind and went skiing,” Larson said. “But later I thought where else can you ski to the base of a glacier, run into a black wolf and then a mountain goat?”

*******

Life is different in Alaska — you feel the tension between man and wilderness everywhere — and sometimes that means brewing beer a little differently.

“Our goal is to keep growing without having any negative impact by being here,” said Ashley Johnston, who doubles as Alaskan communications manager and sustainability spokeswoman.

That’s put Alaskan on the cutting edge — in 1998 it was the first craft brewery in the country to install a carbon dioxide recovery system, with Sierra Nevada only recently becoming the second — and even in what could be uncomfortable territory.

No, not uncomfortable for Alaskan Brewing. Co-founder Geoff Larson spoke in no uncertain terms last June when the brewery was still in the process of putting a mash filter press online, only the second installed in North America (Molson Coors owns the other). “We’ll extract more from the grains that we want, not what we don’t,” he said.

Mash filter press at Alaskan Brewing

Plant engineer Brandon Smith is pictured with the mash filter press.

But uncomfortable for some other brewers. “In North America, like this is forbidden land,” Alaskan plant manager Curtis Holmes said.

That’s because malted barley grains are milled more finely than in conventional mashing and that more is squeezed out of them. Which is why a mash filter press is more efficient (using about 6 percent less barley malt to make the same amount of beer). The concern I’ve heard when visiting other breweries and talking about the process is that the resulting beers wouldn’t have the same mouthfeel they would otherwise and might even taste astringent.

Grant in action at OrvalIt’s easy to understand the skepticism, because this is a serious break with tradition. I happen to be a sucker for grants myself, like from Orval (right). I appreciate the magical role they play in gentle but efficient lautering (or sparging) — although, just to be clear, few breweries still employ grants as part of the lautering process. I value tradition; it’s in the mission statement and why all the words here about the mash press.

So back to that. What press coverage there’s been about Alaskan installing a mash press focused on news about savings — less water consumed, less grain used, less spent grain to deal with, and less energy used — that are good for the bottom line. Where’s the discussion about what the beer tastes like?

In the lab at Alaskan, as a matter of fact, where a tasting panel of company employees convenes every weekday morning at half past ten. They come from all parts of the brewery, because more than half the people who work at Alaskan are BJCP certified judges.

Panelists first tasted test batches from the mash press back in 2000, which is also when other blind taste testing began. “I think it was 1998 or so when I first heard about mash presses and was curious,” Holmes said. By then there weren’t enough cattle in all of Alaska to dispose of the spent grain Alaskan Brewing was producing. In 1995 the brewery bought a grain dryer – another rarity among craft breweries – so it could dry grain (making it lighter) before it was shipped to Seattle.

In 2000 Meura, which is based in Belgium, sent Alaskan a three-barrel pilot mash filter press to test. “Our biggest issue was flavor. Would it be the same?” Holmes said. “We tested it with our old 10-barrel system, comparing what we got with beers off our 100-barrel system. There were no flavor concerns.”

Alaskan wasn’t ready to make the investment until last year, then spent eight months dialing in the recipes before fully implementing the mash press in February. “We took our time and waited to get it right,” said Dave Wilson, operations manager. The recipe for each brand was tested, then brewed using the lauter tun one week, the mash press filter the next.

The biggest challenge was matching alcohol levels, because the new system is more efficient. “There were no issues with flavor and mouthfeel,” Wilson said. “It was pretty easy to match fully attenuated beers within a month. The maltier beers were a little harder.”

The savings are real: 360,000 pounds of malt a year, one million gallons of water, and 65,000 gallons of diesel fuel. Spent grain now contains less water than in the past, making it easier to dry now and laying the foundation for using a biomass boiler in the future.

That’s good business, but not why the crew at Alaskan initiated this and many other energy saving programs. “In a town where we get 90 inches of rain per year you’re not necessarily thinking about saving water,” Geoff Larson said. “But this is about discharging less waste water down the drain and energy usage.

“In the U.S. we have a wasteful mindset. We’ve had the luxury of living where we do, but that’s changing.”

*******

The Larsons aren’t native Alaskans but clearly they are Alaskans. “There are different elements that affect us, obstacles and challenges we’ll encounter that others don’t,” Marcy Larson said.

She, Geoff and Jasmine are all certified for search and rescue operations. In some of the lower 48 states they’d likely be specialists, called upon for specific emergencies. That’s not the way it works in Alaska. “Our search dogs are trained to do a multiple number of things,” Marcy Larson said. “That’s the way it is in Alaska. There are fewer of us to do more things.”

The day I visited last year I met Jasmine because she had ridden to work with Geoff in his truck. This was not long after an avalanche knocked out hydro power in Juneau, briefly sending electricity prices skyrocketing five-fold. To help companies through the crisis the city sent out energy auditors who then suggested ways to conserve energy. The one who visited Alaskan Brewing told Geoff the brewery was already doing everything he might recommend.

And this was before the mash filter press was operating.

“The uniqueness of our location means we don’t always do things like others,” Geoff Larson said.

Hey, Oregon, why the cloudy beers?

Vaporizer at Double MountainWhat style beer do you think the one pictured at the right might be?

Double Mountain Brewery in Hood River (right around the corner from Full Sail Brewing) calls the beer Vaporizer and describes it as a Golden IPA.

I really liked the beer, which is generously dry-hopped with Challenger hops. Otherwise I wouldn’t have ordered a full glass after sampling it along with others. All the beers I tried were tasty as a matter of fact, all with plenty of hops (they say the Kolsch packs in 40 bittering units, and it tasted of every one). But I was a bit surprised by how hazy the beers were overall, even taking into consideration the dry hopping.

In fact, we’ve seen plenty of hazy beers in Oregon (not just the ones made with wheat). I guess there is a pun in there about “partly cloudy,” but I’ll pass. I’ve heard brewers in other states say if their beers aren’t a little cloudy their customers don’t understand they are “natural” but on a per capita basis — and granted I’ve only managed a small sample in a state with just a ridiculous number of brewers — a lot more haze in Oregon.

For the record, this isn’t something you taste or that changes my opinion of a beer.

 

Session #28: Handpumps and hops around the world

The SessionThis is my contribution to The Session #28, hosted by Brian Yaeger. I’m posting early because we’ll be amongst tall trees on Friday, a canopy the Internet cannot penetrate. Visit Brian’s blog on Friday for links to more posts.

For The Session this month Brian asks us to write about the brewery whose beer we’ve enjoyed the longest distance from our home. I figured from the outset that hops would be involved, because I thought this would be an opportunity to tell another story about drinking hoppy pilsners in small towns in the Czech Republic or hoppy ales in Vienna (I would have written about the HopDevil Ale at the 1516 brewpub while consuming Victory’s HopDevil here.) But when I did the math using two different online mapping services, two because the results surprised me, I discovered the south of Italy is farther from our Corrales home.

Not that I had to quit thinking about hops.

Although we didn’t visit Birra del Borgo west of Rome, we had several of the brewery’s beers at Bir & Fud in Rome, the restaurant del Borgo founder/brewer Leonardo di Vincenzo co-owns. I interviewed him for a story in the current DRAFT magazine at Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa’, a wonderful pub across the street that features Italian craft beers on tap along with rarities from Franconia and Belgium.

The options that evening included del Borgo’s Re Ale from a handpump, a rather easy choice for both Daria and I. It’s an American Pale Ale even if it is brewed in Italy, rich in Northwest American hop flavor and aroma. I took one deep whiff and told di Vincenzo, “Smells like home.”

By “home” I meant the United States in general, but sure as hell could have said “California,” where we’ve been for going on a month. Since we’re off to Oregon next there’s little doubt that when we return to New Mexico some of our clothes may still smell of grapefruit and pine.

Although B. United imports some of del Borgo’s beers Re Ale is not to be found anywhere we’ve been recently. So, back to Brian’s instructions and alternative #3: “find a local beer of the same style and do a little compare and contrast.”

Cask-conditioned North Coast Red Seal

That beer is North Coast Red Seal Ale. The bonus being I also had it from a handpump, in this case at North Coast’s pub across the street from the brewery in Fort Bragg. Sorry, no real compare and contrast here. I will simply suggest you too should find a place serving Red Seal cask-conditioned. The hops are delightfully floral and packed with grapefruity aromas, but softer on the palate than when you pour a glass from the bottle. The texture in the mouth is a pure delight, and the finish just as dry and bitter as from the bottle.

How was it like Re Ale, how was it different? I was too busy enjoying Red Seal to consider that, just like I ultimately enjoyed Re Ale last October more because of the flavor than because of any memories of home.

Is there a takeaway message? You decide.