Monday musing: What’s the opposite of Zima?

Before we begin Phase III of our grand odyssey we’re holed up in snowy New Jersey through the holiday, leaving me a bit of time for Monday musing.

– I paid little attention in October to the final demise of Zima, and just caught up with the excellent piece at Slate about its long and torturous death. A fine lesson about marketing, and an interesting contrast to the rip-roaring success of small-batch beers focusing on flavor and making sure there is a there there.

– We like year-end lists in our house, and not just because I can make fun of the beer-related ones. Books, best recordings, best movies, that stuff. And when Sierra gets it organized we’ll post our Best of the Trip – Europe Edition at The Slow Travelers.

But I’ve given up trying to assemble a “best of beer” for the year, for the European leg, for Germany, for Liechenstein. I can’t even decide on my favorite beer from Cantillon.

Mahrs BrauInstead I’ll point you to a list done right. It makes me wish we had managed to collide with Boak and Bailey as all of us bounced around Germany and the Czech Republic. They were in Leipzig when we were in Prague. We were in Dresden when they got to Prague. They blogged about Christmas markets, we went to dozens (Berlin alone has 50).

It’s not that I agree on all their favorite beers (had six, but part of the point of these lists is to discover new things, right?). Daria and I really didn’t care for the sourness in U Flecku. However we loved the Mahrs Bräu Ungespundet-hefetrüb, and since we were staying one block from the Bamberg tavern and had no ticking agenda were happy to order more.

– Visit Alan and Jeff to see the winners of the 2008 Yule Beer Blog Photos contest. It seems I have a photo in there. Probably a sympathy selection after I whined about getting my butt kicked in previous years. I probably shouldn’t be so flip, because – amazing as it may be – run a contest, give away a lot of nice prizes and somebody is still going to give you grief.

– Interesting to see in “How many cult wines can dance on the head of a pin?” that the number of cult wines has exploded since the mid-1990s. Can you think of a parallel? Here’s a hint.

– And I’ll finish with a press release from home (yes, a bit sad I missed this):

“Blue Corn Brewery (Santa Fe) celebrates old traditions as well as new beginnings with the release of Aztlán Winter Ale on December 13, 2008. The first commercial beer to feature certified organic, native New Mexican hops, Aztlán Winter Ale also incorporates organic malts from the United States and Canada, and clean, pure Northern New Mexican water. This winter warmer has malt overtones of chocolate and plum with hints of orange and spice from the hops.

“Ralph Olson of U.S. hop supplier, HopUnion, reported to a source he knew of no other brewery having used these hops in the past. Blue Corn head brewer Brad Kraus, said, ‘In all my years of research about brewing in New Mexico, I have not found a single reference to the use of Humulus lupulus var. neomexicana, or New Mexican native hops, in the brewing of beer here. Since these were grown organically, I felt it fitting to use only organic ingredients.’

“Todd Bates and business partner Steve Johnson grew the hops just north of Embudo, New Mexico. They have been growing and breeding native New Mexican varieties for four years on their small organic farm.”

I visited Todd and Steve in August of 2007 (mentioned here) and Todd frequently comments here. Hi, Todd.

 

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.

Discovery gives us another reason to miss Michael Jackson

A couple of minutes into watching Discovery’s Channel’s “How Stuff Works” show on beer last night I was wishing my mother-in-law had Internet access to I could read what was being typed on Twitter and comment myself. Did he really just say Sierra Nevada produced 750 barrels a year (rather than 750,000)? When did Germany and the UK discontinue brewing?

Oh, how the times have changed.

Our family watched the show with particular anticipation because when we were in Prague last month Evan Rail had Sierra nearly falling off her chair in laughter by telling stories about the filming process when he joined the Discovery production team at nearby Pilsner Urquell. It was exciting to see that Evan didn’t end up on the cutting room floor.

But ten minutes into the show Daria announced she was exhausted. Watching the footage at Pilsner Urquell made it quickly apparent how different television is in the Twitter era from twenty years ago when Michael Jackson devoted one of his half-hour Beer Hunter segments to the brewery. What last night’s program lacked in fact checking it tried to make up for with glossy magazine production.

How many times did we see Jim Koch of Samuel Adams sticking his face into freshly rubbed hops or at a brewing kettle? Or footage at Yuengling? Or mugs of Budweiser Budvar being poured? Or Steve Dresler of Sierra Nevada at work? Maybe I got lost in the blur &#151 everything kept moving so fast, I figured if there were a test I was screwed &#151 but I don’t think any of them was ever identified.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you try to do too much in an hour. Or when you are producing for 140-character attention spans. This was Beer 101 and more (“We talk to the experts, brew masters and beer connoisseurs about how they’re innovating new ways to make beer”). It made wish I could haul out my tapes, also from Discovery and packed away at our New Mexico home, of Jackson’s epic series. It’s hard to believe it consisted of just six half-hour segments, because he sure packed in a lot of information. And because, in retrospect, of its impact.

The production quality was plenty hip for the late ’80s — Michael took a particular pride in that — but the pace certainly was different. Maybe it was just Michael’s British accent, but his presentation seemed not only authoritative but educational. And pretty much from the time it aired in the United States until his death he was asked when the next series would come out.

He answered the question at his website in 1999, indicating he was ready to take on the task if somebody offered.

The Beer Hunter meanwhile achieved very respectable ratings, was positively and widely reviewed, sold extensively overseas and won a Glenfiddich Award for Television. Since then, there have been endless discussions with assorted networks, including Channel 4, Discovery, several strands of the BBC and A&E. As none has dismissed the idea, each discussion has lasted for many months before finally fizzling.

Watching the show last night I realized they’d probably never give Michael the freedom he had back then, for instance to devote minutes or even seconds to Anchor Brewing employees sitting around a campfire during a company outing. He’d likely be an on-screen star, but a producer?

There’s a thought. Imagine how he’d present Dark Lord Day at Three Floyds Brewing or German Reunification Day in Neuhaus. Think about how he might “mash up” footage from Pilsner Urquell shot in 1988 and 2008. Or . . . I’ve got to quit, because it ain’t gonna happen.

Dang.

Dang. Dang. Dang.

 

Are American beers really THAT good?

Speaking of lists, your can read Beer Advocate magazine’s Planet Earth Top 25s at the Stone Brewing website.

I’m a little surprised that 23 of the All-Time Top Breweries are American. And that 22 of the top 25 Top Beer Bars are in the United States.

I’m a little surprised that I’ve had all 25 of the All-Time Top Beers (“New beers comes and go. These are the ones that stuck around.”), and I almost feel a sense of relief that only 17 of them are from North America. But I’m hardly shocked that 24 of the 25 are 6% abv or stronger, most much stronger (the average of the 24 is 8.5% abv).

OK, “a little surprised” might not be the best choice of words. Let’s try “appalled by such American arrogance.”

 

Beer book of the year: Amber, Gold and Black

Amber, Gold and BlackMakin’ a list and checkin’ twice, it’s that time of year. I’m woefully behind so breathed a sigh of relief when I discovered a few books that were supposed to be here when we returned from Europe, so that I might provide an opinion if you should buy them, were not to be seen.

Thus no beer book shopping list, something I generally enjoy compiling, from me this holiday season.

Instead I’m going to give you a list of one, a book — Amber, Gold and Black, The Story of Britain’s Great Beers — that works perfect for the procrastinating shopper because it is available via download. Call it the beer book of the year if you want.

I’ve already written something of a review, so instead consider one paragraph:

“In 1802, a writer called John Fetham wrote three pages on porter brewing in a guidebook called The Picture of London. Feltham’s version of the history of porter, which includes the claim it was invented by a brewer named Harwood, has been repeated hundreds of times over the past two centuries as the allegedy authentic story of porter’s origins. Unfortunately very little of it is backed up by independent evidence, and much of it is demonstrably wrong.”

Are you thinking you’ve repeated this story a time or two yourself and now you are feeling like a first year law student who just got called on in The Paper Chase? Read the book and instead you get to be one of the cool kids watching a classmate squirm.