Answer: Troegs Mad Elf

Question: What was my first American-brewed beer in more than three months?

Why not start with an 11% abv beer brewed with honey and cherries? What could be more American? When I saw it at Oak Tree Liquors in South Plainfield, N.J., a store definitely worth the drive, I knew it would be the one. We last had Mad Elf two years ago and quite liked it. A little boozy, but layers of flavor. Walked out of the store with more beer than we needed, but we may be back in a few days because Dave Hoffman of Climax is supposed to be delivering growlers of his legendary doppelbock.

And a second answer: Rosé de Gambrinus.

Question: What was our last beer in Germany (and Europe)?

It was spectacular. We finished with the Cantillon beer because when we were at the brewery in mid-September it was only recently bottled and they suggested we wait as long as we could before opening. Couldn’t do any better than the night before we flew home.

We enjoyed a more proper German sendoff the day before in Nurnberg during a very nice meal at Hütt’n (located a couple of hundred of meters from the Christmas Market and found with the help of Ron Pattinson’s city guide). They’ve got a long list of Franconian beers on the menu.

Daria and I finished (we were sharing) with Fischer Rauch, a little buttery but good with spicy Nurnberger goulash, and Gutmann Weizenbock, a dangerous 7.2% winter specialty. By a bit of chance, Gutmann was also my first weizen of the trip (September in Rothenberg), in this case the weizen hell, a delightful balance between fruit and clove. Had never heard of the brewery, but two impressive beers.

 

What should be my first beer back in America?

This is something I’ll start thinking about in a few days when we get on a plane to fly home. Right now I’m focused on what my next Franconian beer will be.

How am I ever ever going to get caught up on new beers and drink my favorite holiday beers? I’m not, particularly since we’ll still be “limiting” ourselves to drinking regional beers. So I think I’ll start with a simpler question: What should my first local beer be?

I know it will be a seasonal release, and I wouldn’t be surprised it its hoppy. It will be from the mid-Atlantic states, because we’ll be in New Jersey, where there are plenty of stores with excellent bottles choices (though not nearly as many great bars).

Please leave a suggestion as a comment.

 

The Pilsner Urquell tour didn’t suck

We were forewarned by Ron Pattinson (read the comments too) not to expect too much from the Pilsner Urquell brewery tour. However, rather than requesting a behind-the-scenes look during which I could ask my usual geeky questions, I wanted to see and hear how the brewing giant SABMiller presents Urquell to the public.

I’m glad we went.

It was worth it if only to wander through the lagering cellars and imagine what they were like when they were full of more than the few barrels that remain.

Pilsner Urquell cellars

Back to the beginning. The tour costs 150 Czech Koruna (less than $7.50), 100 more if you want to take pictures inside the factory (that’s what they call it). You’d think somebody there read Ron’s post, because they carefully warned us that the tour takes about 90 minutes and we might want to use the toilet before embarking.

In fact, it lasted 80 minutes (perhaps because there were only 11 of us, including four Czechs taking the English tour for reasons unknown) and didn’t start with a movie. We saw one movie as part of the introduction to ingredients, and it did a pretty good job of talking about stuff like triple decoction without using the word. We saw a second short movie taken at the brewery in the early 1900s.

As at Budejovicky Budvar a couple of days before we breezed past cyclindro-conical tanks and primary fermentation was mentioned only in passing, but unlike at Budvar we never saw actual lagering tanks — just the wooden ones where beer is aged for tourists to taste (the literature we received also indicated this beer is compared with the brewery’s industrially produced beer). Of course we wandered about the old shiny copper brewhouse, but could view the new one only through glass.

What made the tour worth it was the walk in the cellars. The tour guide emphasized many times to stick with the group so nobody would get lost. It was easy to imagine when the cellars were full of barrels. When we finally get back home I’m looking forward to watching Michael Jackson’s Beer Hunter video from the 1980s. Not only to compare what it looks like, but for answers to some of the questions Ron raised, like if lagering has been shortened over the years.

We stopped briefly at wooden open fermenters where the “tasting” beer undergoes primary fermentation. While I was taking pictures the tour moved on to the halls with lagering barrels, for what the guide called “the best part of the tour, tasting.” Now behind, I hurried through the first set of barrels, passing a man carrying a clipboard.

I stopped to take a picture of the barrels, dang hard to get them in the low light since I was determined not to use the flash. When I turned around I saw the man (a brewer?) at the other end drawing a sample. That’s the picture above.

By now Sierra was worried I was lost and she came back to drag me into the next room with barrels, where everybody was already drinking. A friendly fellow poured a sample into a small (100-200cl) glass. This was beer made in the old way, using open fermentation in wood and then lagered in the cellars in wood. It was not filtered. It was very good.

Nobody was talking, and by the time I tried to take a couple more photos and had enjoyed less than half the glass the tour was ready to move on. The guide said anybody was welcome to a second beer. Nobody took him up on it. Except me. I hurried back to the fellow pouring beer, handing him an empty glass while I finished the first (resisting chugging).

He smiled, poured one and seemed to suggest I could take one for each hand.

I declined.

Why I don’t know.

 

The real enemy of better beer? Please vote

Are boring beers or badly made beers the real enemy?

One thing about moving outside your comfort zone, ordering beers in languages you don’t speak and knocking back what the locals drink even if you might never have heard of the beers . . . you come across both. (Same with wine, which can be even more confusing in “emerging” wine countries like Croatia and Slovenia).

While I consider this question myself I’d like to hear your opinions.

And, no, “both” is not an acceptable answer. You have to pick one.

 

Italian craft beer . . . in one photo

Given the sudden outbreak of tales about Italian beer (see below) and the reality I should save something interesting for a couple of print assignments I’m going to write a lot less here than I planned for Italian Beer Part II.

Instead I’ll steal an idea from this wine blog, which reviews wines using a single picture instead of traditional tasting notes. The new wave of Italian beers can’t be represented by a single image, but I’m suggesting this is a start:

Italian craft beer

The photo was taken at Pompeii. I didn’t choose it because it expresses something “classic,” but because of the balance and texture it shows. Those components are essential in any beer we might call exceptional. One complaint about the big hoppy beers that emerged in the United States and now the sometimes offbeat beers of Italy is that the colors sure are bright but they often clash.

Not every Italian brewer has it figured out, but there are enough to set a good example for the others.

Here’s one example. KeTo RePorter from Birra del Borgo, located about 70 kilometers east of Rome. The beer is a rich porter spiced with tobacco leaves (added during the final two minutes of the boil). Several other Birra del Borgo beers are available in the United States, however this one has had a little trouble getting label approval . . .

Anyway, perhaps we should considered the power of persuasion, but KeTo seem to have a little pipe tobacco sweetness in the aroma and flavor and surprising spicy notes that set it apart from other porters. You may or may not like this, you may or may not think it is worth the price, but Italian small-batch brewers must ask more for their beers (they are spending 40 to 50 percent more than large brewers for ingredients) so they better be offering something different.

That’s the easy part. Balance and texture are the things not even a volcano eruption can destroy.

Further reading

As noted last week, Evan Rail’s New York Times article nicely captures what is happening in the north and the beer/food connection in Italy. And Charlie Papazian, one the heals of Salone del Gusto in Turin, offered a whole series of posts on Italian beers. (Start here.)

Since like Papazian I noted that finding craft beer in Italy is still a challenge in some areas, such as Florence and Venice, I must agree that sometimes you have to work to find these beers. However, after I wrote that post I learned that 300 bar/pubs in Rome serve craft beer and that a growing number of bars, led by the pioneering Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa’, specialize in flavorful beer.

Also, I have to correct Papazian when he writes, “Are any beers being exported to places like the USA? Very, very few.” If you live in the right parts of the United States it is easier to find a range of Italian small-batch beers than in most cities in Italy. Importer B. United International has a dozen Italian beers in its portfolio, listed here.