hops

Monday musing: Beer weeks and beer nationalism

I’ve been amazed reading reports from SF Beer Week, and am even more astonished when I look over the ridiculously long list of events planned for Philly Beer Week. These are the big dogs, but Jay Brooks has pointed out “beer weeks” are popping up all over.

Has to be good for local beers, I think. But let’s hope we don’t get another round of arguing about which is the best beer city in the United States or where the best beers are brewed. Why? Read Ron Pattinson’s post on “Beer nationalism” and you should understand.

The world of beer is one exciting whole. Not a series of competing fragments. “Which country brews the best beer?” What sort of stupid question is that? “Where’s the pub?”, “Can I have a pint of that, please?”, “What are you having?” They’re good questions.

Brilliant.

– Here’s another reason SF Beer Week was a good idea: A beer tasting hosted at Alpha Sigma Phi in Berkeley. Yes, I too, had to get past the fraternity part. But Mario at Brewed for Thought put the event together and writes about it.

– Repeat after me. When I read that a beer has 108 or 128 or 104 IBU (when I read that a beer has 108 or 128 or 104 IBU) I will ask if that was measured in a lab or if that is calculated (I will ask if that was measured in a lab or if that is calculated).

Because I know of only two beers (the Samuel Adams Imperial Pilsner and Bell’s Big Head San Diego Style Ale brewed for the 2008 Craft Brewers Conference) that clocked over 100 IBU when verified by a laboratory. Everybody else is guessing.

So you should read the Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics entry in the Deschutes Brewery blog. Hop Henge Experimental IPA is brimming with hop flavor and bitterness. But in case you’ve been wondering about the 95 IBU listed on the label, well you won’t be seeing that number anymore.

The first time Deschutes had the beer tested the lab found 80 IBU. The brewers since beefed up the hop additions (resulting in a picture you should look at) and had Hop Henge tested again. This time 87 IBU.

The moral of the story for us is we will not again put 95 IBUs on the label. The moral of the story for you might be a wink next time someone tells you their beer has 120 IBUs in it (or even 95 for that matter).

Wink, indeed. And ask the brewer to talk about hop flavor instead.

How I survived my Lupulin sabbatical

Lupulin Threshold Shift

I was first exposed to the concept of Lupulin Threshold Shift* when Vinnie Cilurzo of Russian River Brewing and Matt Brynildson of Firestone Walker collaborated on an online presentation, about hops of course, for Brewers Association members. I’ve since seen it on Russian River apparel and heard real live human beings use the words “Lupulin Shift.”

As a defender of the excessive use of hops I probably should have checked with my doctor before leaving the United States last September. Was it safe for my family to be in the car with me, traveling on some European back road, were I to seize up because I desperately needed an American IPA?

But, you know what, I didn’t end up fantasizing about Double IPAs or Simcoe hops. Downshifting hops was just as pleasant as getting off the German autobahn and on to roads that wound through picturesque small towns. No, not down into first gear; beers with single digit bittering units with imperceptible hop flavor or aroma.

I had plenty of beers with underlying bitterness and undeniable hop character. Turn down the volume a bit and it’s astounding what you can hear, or taste. Saison Dupont, Senne Taras Boulba, Schönramer Pils, and Koutský 10° Svetlé Výcepní for starters. Oh, and Chouffe Dobbelen IPA Tripel at the brewery cafe — it drills a hole directly to the back of your brain.

And there were beers with American hop character, most notably those at the 1516 brewpub in Vienna. When I saw Birra Del Borgo’s Re Ale on cask at Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa’ in Rome in late October I knew it would be my first beer of the evening. Daria went right for it too.

The smell of citrusy hops arrived well before I got my nose right over the glass. “Smells like home,” I said to brewer Leonardo di Vincenzo. He smiled the look of a man whose seen hop-deprived Americans linger over this beer before. More important, it is his best seller. And customers eagerly await the release of each batch of Re Ale Extra — the first was a “mistake.” He forgot to add hops until the final five minutes, then dumped a whole recipe’s worth in the kettle.

Am I happy to see crazily hopped beers again? You betcha. Was I surprised to find that brewers in other countries understand how to use hops? Of course not. This Lupulin sabbatical reminded me how important hops are even when they aren’t playing lead guitar.

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* If you can’t see the image at the top, it reads: lupulin threshold shift/lu·pu·lin thresh·hold shift/n 1. When a once extraordinarily hoppy beer how seems pedestrian. 2. The phenomenon a person has when craving more bitterness in beer. 3. The long-term exposure to extremely hoppy beers; if excessive or prolonged, a habitual dependence on hops will occur. 4. When a “Double IPA” just is not enough.

Monday musing: Beer prices and hop terroir

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.

Musing: Wine top dog where hops grow

New hopyardLet’s start with good news from Yakima. Here’s one of several new hopyards we saw Sunday and Monday. You can see why farmers point out it takes more than a year to make a hop field productive. Hops are well up the strings in nearby fields.

A day and a half driving through one of the world’s premier hop-growing regions was a mixed bag. We saw plenty of hop memories — vacant buildings where hop merchants once did business, a hop kiln you can spot from the Interstate, and of course the American Hop Museum in Toppenish.

It was also evident that wine is a much stronger tourist attraction. Interstate exit signs advertise stops with wineries, and we’re talking scores of choices. The banners in downtown Yakima remind visitors this is Washington Wine Country. Many of the tasting rooms were jammed during the Memorial Day weekend, while we were the only visitors at the Hop Museum.

Daria and Sierra have both written about that experience, disappointing from the moment we walked through the door covered with plywood. It felt like the beginning of a museum when I visited in 1997, but nothing appears to have been done since. Including maintenance. It made me think I really need to take them the German Museum of Hops (Deutsches Hopfenmuseum) in Bavaria this fall so they’ll see a hop museum done right.

Quite simply, this one does not reflect the love of hops that American brewers expend in creating beers that celebrate American hops. Perhaps we need to put a tax on Simcoe and Amarillo hops to pay for some upkeep — and that way those hop varieties might merit a mention somewhere within its walls.

Former Grant's Brewpub

As appropriate as it turned out that America’s first brewpub, variously known as Grant’s Brewery Pub and Yakima Brewing and Malting, opened in hop country it should be sobering that starting in Yakima you can now visit scores of wineries before you find the first brewing operation (Snipes Mountain in Sunnyside). Grant’s, housed in the old downtown train station, still looks great from a distance. Hops are etched in the glass doors leading into the pub, along with the hours. But the only thing inside is the old wooden bar, and cobwebs hang around the windows.

Fortunately we headed from there to Moxee. Amarillo and Simcoe are grown here. Don’t you wonder what Bert Grant would have done with those hops? Here there are more hopyards than vineyards, but as across all the rolling hills of Yakima Valley more fruit trees than anything. Also plenty of sheep, goats, cattle — we later visited a cheese factory that can process a half million gallons of milk a day — and horses. (Apparently the Yakima Valley is a top pot producer as well.)

Yakima hop workers

Although it was Memorial Day, we spotted several crews at work in the hopyards, a quick reminder that hops are downright labor intensive as far as agricultural products go.

Worth appreciating.

A note from Yakima Sportsman’s Park: I plan to continue with Monday musings throughout our journey, but there are times I’ll be writing on Monday and not posting until I find the next Internet connection.