Book review: Land of Amber Waters

Land of Amber WatersIn the preface to Land of Amber Waters: The History of Brewing in Minnesota author Doug Hoverson writes how he came to decide that there might be something he could add to the literature on Minnesota’s breweries:

“Without making this sound like a research grant proposal, I think it is easy to demonstrate that the history of the brewing industry is important in understanding Minnesota’s history and culture, and that Minnesota’s brewing industry is important to the wider history of the brewing industry in general.”

Mission accomplished.

I could likely dash off a quick 2,000 words about this book, but that’s more than would interest you.

Hoverson teaches social studies and coaches the debate team at Saint Thomas Academy in Mendota Heights, Minn. He’s a homebrewer and associate editor of American Breweriana. It’s obvious early on, like when he thanks his family for “the times we drove out of our way to look at a hole in the ground,” this was a labor of love. He writes he spent hundreds (although I suspect it may really be thousands) of hours in local libraries.

The result is information we’ve never seen before. The dude has details on all 290 breweries that ever operated in Minnesota. All but 40 opened before Prohibition and all but 20 no longer exist. That makes for challenging research.

The University of Minnesota Press certainly does the book justice in 340 pages, each 10 inches by 10 inches, printed on heavy stock and packed with illustrations.

But what makes Land of Amber Waters worth its $39.95 price tag is the perspective Hoverson adds on top of his meticulous research. For instance, he introduces the third chapter with a 1902 quote taken from the Pine City Pioneer:

“Mr. Buselmeier makes a purer beer than any that is shipped in here and we are glad to know that the drinking public appreciate that fact. Every dollar that Mr. Buselmeier gets is expended in Pine City and those who patronize him are benefiting the village. The same can be said of every other home industry. … So when in need of a glass of beer, a glass of pop, a good cigar, a sack of flour, a newspaper, or in fact anything that is manufactured at home and will benefit home trade be sure and call for it. This is the way to build up a town.”

Maybe that’s a little rah-rah, but this chapter about the “glory days of the small-town brewer” offers example after example of the role breweries played in communities and the role communities played in beer in the latter half of the nineteenth century.

Small towns have changed a bit since then. Small breweries literally disappeared then came back. We’re not returning to 1902, but as well as doing a terrific job of chronicling Minnesota’s beer history Land of Amber Waters tells us more than a little bit about beer in America today.

Fantasy Beer Dinner #6: Rick Sellers

Rick SellersFor more about what this is part of look here.

Rick Sellers started Pacific Brew News in 2005 (website, blog and podcast) and this year his articles started showing up in print. He recently signed on as Beer Director for DRAFT Magazine.

In case you forgot, the questions are: If you could invite four people dead or alive to a beer dinner who would they be? What four beers would you serve?

Four People, Four Beers

Martin Luther: I doubt my manners would be appropriate for the man, but I have so much respect for a man who was willing to stand up and voice a word of dissent in a time where that wasn’t allowed. I see him as one of the great rebels of history, even though I am certain his persona was humble.

Beer: Could you imagine sitting with Martin Luther (and his interpreter) over a traditional doppelbock? I’d love to find out. The style was reportedly developed in his lifetime and I can’t imagine a more appropriate drink even if he didn’t actually get to enjoy this, I still like the idea.

Anthony Bourdain: I don’t have a lot of celebrity heroes, but this guy simply fascinates me. I love his brash approach to the finer things in life, and from what you see of him (the side he lets us see) he is a true hedonist, a lover of pleasure and I can’t help but think an evening with him would include great food and liberal drinking.

Beer: I’d sit his ass down at Russian River and spend as many minutes and beers as needed to convince him his views on beer are skewed and out of line with his passionate pursuit of better food. He seems to like the area, but when it comes to beer he seems to think crap beer is just fine.

Fred Eckhardt: I’ve had one long talk with the man, and another brief conversation ­ what can I say, I love his stories. Beyond the beer, I love hearing him talk about the travels of his youth, including the days of WWII. Yeah, I’d love to hear a first-hand account in the evolution of the American Craft Beer scene, and who better to walk me through that than the great Fred?

Beer: Hair of the Dog’s Fred? But of course! Legend has it that Fred was named after the beer, but I was able to clarify this with Alan (owner and brewer at HotDog) and he says no, it was actually the beer that was named after the man. I’ll have to let Snopes know.

Douglas Coupland or Christopher Moore: I know, cheating! Both of these men wrote books that brought a passion for reading that hasn’t faded away, and even inspired me to write on my own. They both have quirky styles and a warped world view I appreciate ­I only hope they’re as quirky in person as they are in their works.

Beer: 2004 Sierra Nevada Bigfoot, a beer that’s great for encouraging slow, casual drinking and long conversations. Besides, I think Moore may have some great and interesting tales to spin about the elusive creature of the woods.

Monday morning musing: Don’t blame the beer

The SessionBefore jumping into a bookish week here — reviews plus the requisite holiday suggestions — a few beer links to kick start your week. Don’t forget that its ends with The Session #10: “Let it snow, let it snow, Winter Seasonal Beers.”

– Concern about the carbon footprint of older appliances, particularly refrigerators, is quite valid. But headlines like “Beer fridges guzzling too much power” would seem to blame this on beer. In most cases these are second refrigerators not refrigerators dedicated to beer. An example of how slang, and the fact that any newspaper story will be better read if you put beer in the headline, may tarnish beer’s image.

– Yep, I’m a little disappointed readers didn’t join in last week to answer the question “Who would you invite to a fantasy beer dinner?” Just a list (perhaps you were intimidated by the impressive narratives provided by here by my guests) would have been OK.

A new book, The Last Supper, asks chefs a similar question: How they envision their last meal on earth (guests, menu, who cooks it, etc.). Beyond noting a “last supper” seems like less fun than an ongoing series of beer dinners, I’m happy to leave a review to Stephen Beaumont at World of Beer. He find the “fascinating concept almost ideally executed,” with an exception or two.

Most disappointing to me is the near-complete lack of respect good beer receives from chefs who presumably otherwise care a great deal about the foods they ingest. Jamie Oliver, for example, chooses to sup Hoegaarden, of all things, with spaghetti all’arrabiata, ignoring that the chilies in the dish would render the beer almost flavourless.

Beaumont’s own “Last Supper” beverage list includes beer.

– ‘Tis the season. Jon at The Brew Site is reprising his Advent Beer Calendar.

And Alan at A Good Beer Blog has brought back the Yule Photo Contest and partnered with Stonch’s Beer Blog to make it international. They’ve assembled quite a lineup of prizes, with more rolling in all the time.

Bitter, baby: It says so right here

Olfabrikken labelThis is just a great idea from Ølfabrikken, or maybe from Shelton Brothers, which imports the Danish beer.

I want to see similar information on the label of every beer in the store.

What else do you need to know?

OK, if 100 gram IPA is any good (yes) and if it is worth $8.99 (in New Mexico; well that’s $4 more than Stone Ruination). And maybe they need a fourth scale – either ranging from “beginner” to “experienced” (my idea of bitter might be different than some) or “bland” to “intense.” In either case all the blocks would be filled in for 100 gram.

But wouldn’t you love to see a similar chart &#151 like brewing competitors would every come up with a standard &#151 on the back of very bottle?

The label also provides a little information about the brewery, and the fact its beers are unpasteurized, unfiltered and naturally carbonated.

And about the beer itself: “Our 100 Gram IPA is an Imperial IPA, hopped continuously throughout the entire boil. Hops additions are made every three minutes, and are increased by 100 grams with each addition. The result is a flavorful bitter ale, with intense floral aromas from the huge quantities of hops added near the end of the boil.”

While I love the informative label and that beer drinkers in Denmark can enjoy locally brewed Double IPAs I’m still trying to figure out why it is necessary to ship the hops back to the United States.

Firestone 11 and a ‘Tale of Two Matts’

Firestone 11I’ve already ragged on Firestone Walker for the Plane Jane names attached to spectacular anniversary beers. So to be constructive I should suggest a sexy alternative to “Firestone 11,” the beer they’ll be lining up to buy today at the Firestone Walker taproom in Paso Robles, Calif.

With apologies to Dickens let’s call it a “Tale of Two Matts.” And quote a bit from the opening of his similarly named novel: “it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness.”

The Matts are Matt Brynildson and Matt Trevisan, the brewmaster at Firestone and winemaker at Linne Calodo Winery respectively. The former had everything to do with brewing, aging and assembling the beer. The latter sat in on sessions that determined the blends for “10” and “11.” As important to me is how generous Trevisan was with his time in a long conversation that helped me understand what makes this beer different.

The foolishness? The labor and time involved compared to what income the sale of 500 cases will bring. The wisdom? It’s in the glass.

Coconut. Vanilla. Oak tannins. Texture. Bourbon. Brown. Chocolate. Dark cherries. Smoke. Earthy/herbal.

That’s how my notes begin. Then, Do we really need to deconstruct this beer?

My thoughts turned to a conversation with Trevisan about blending “10.” “I told them they didn’t have to sit there and pick it apart to find the best one,” he said. “You didn’t necessarily want the one you had the most to say about. Ultimately it’s a beverage to enjoy.”

So Daria and I were pretty much done chatting about our impressions of the beer, even if they did keep coming. For instance, when I poured out the last of the 22-ounce bottle and kicked up the head anew a sudden whiff of rose perfume appeared, recalling Rochefort’s beers. Where the hell did that come from?

We enjoyed the beer but we talked about how much we like the Christmas tree we cut Friday, how many days we should appropriate for the Canadian Rockies next summer, and more stuff you don’t give a hoot about.

Instead, you’re here to find out what makes this beer different, perhaps special. Could there be a one word tasting note?

OK. Texture. It’s rich and velvety on the tongue, but finishes with enough leathery coarseness that it doesn’t leave a sweet impression. I suspect that’s one of the reasons such a wide array of flavors come together so well.

Class dismissed.

The rest of a “Tale of Two Matts” is optional reading.

Matt BrynildsonFirestone 11 is a compelling beer with a captivating back story. I wrote about the blending of Firestone 10 in the current Imbibe magazine.

Also, check out Sean Paxton’s recently posted Blending Firestone Walker 11 with Matt Brynildson for photos far more illustrative than my words. Don’t miss the “Bourbon Dot.”

Before we get to the nitty gritty geeky details comparing “10” and “11” let’s back up a bit. When Brynildson hit upon having area winemakers help with the blend, Trevisan — who stocks up on a variety of Firestone Walker beers to serve winery workers during harvest — was one of of the first he called. Wine Spectator has characterized him as one of the “Young Turks” of the Central Coast.

Handed a glass of Abacus, a barley wine, that was a composite taken from several barrels Trevisan asked instead for samples from individual barrels. A conversation with him about wood makes the reason why obvious.

French Oak versus American Oak is just the beginning, because he’ll tell you about different forests around the world. He described two oak trees, each one on a slightly different part of his property, each developing differently in its own microclimate.

“It starts with how the cooper chooses his trees,” he says. Where the wood is dried (think Oregon Coast versus Mojave Desert) and otherwise how the cooper treats it make as much difference as variables that are more easily quoted, like the level of “toast” (when a partially assembled barrel is placed over a fire and charred). For instance, when a winemaker or brewer buys a new barrel it will be described along these lines: American Oak, Medium Aroma Toast, 24 months (the time spent seasoning).

Trevisan says too many winemakers want barrels with the same specs to produce the same flavors. “That takes the human element out of it,” he says. “If I have two barrels I like the idea of the left one and the right one tasting different.”

Assembling those flavors, of course, is why Matt consulted with Matt. “I always work off what I call liquidity. What’s the weight in the mouth? How to you want the wine perceived?” Trevisan says. He returns often to the word “viscosity,” and the importance of flavor at mid-palate.

That may mean something a little different in wine than beer but relates directly to the impressive texture of Firestone 11. A fair complaint about some high alcohol “extreme beers” is that they start with an intense blast of aromas and flavors, but there’s little depth by mid-palate. That’s not the case here.

Make no mistake, Firestone 10 and Firestone 11 taste quite different. We’re not talking about the difference between the 2006 and 2007 vintages of Pinot Noir from a winery. We’re talking the difference between a barley wine and a really big brown ale. The geeky details:

Firestone 11
– 82% Bravo (an Imperial Brown Ale brewed in August 2006)
– 16 bourbon barrels, 5 brandy barrels, 2 retired Firestone Union barrels (new American oak)
7% Rufus (a Continental Styles Imperial Amber brewed August 2007)
– 1 bourbon barrel, 1 rye barrel
7% Velvet Merkin (a regular strength Oatmeal Stout brewed October 2007)
– 2 bourbon barrels
3.5% Parabola (Russian Imperial Stout brewed February 2006)
– 1 bourbon barrel

Firestone 10
– Abacus (Barley Wine) 46%
– Bravo 16%
– Parabola 11%
– Ruby (Double IPA) 8%
– Walker’s Reserve (Oak fermented Robust Porter) 6%
– Hemp Ale (American Brown) 6%
– Double Barrel Ale (oak fermented English Pale) 6%

A 22-ounce of Firestone 10 sold for $9.99 when it was released last year. The suggested retail price on “11” is $16.99.