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.

Fantasy Beer Dinner #5: Lisa Morrison

Lisa MorrisonFor more about what this is part of look here.

Lisa Morrison (a.k.a the Beer Goddess) is the Oregon Correspondent for Celebrator Beer News and a frequent contributor to several other publications. She was honored with a Brewers Association Journalism Award in 2004. She also teaches SudSisters, a beer appreciation class for women in and around Portland.

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?

My maternal grandmother, Norma, because she liked kicking back with a beer or two, and she was a foodie before there even was a name for it. I think she’d get a kick out of a beer dinner.

Michael Jackson, because we still had much to learn from him. And because I was not yet ready to say goodbye.

Musician/poet/activist Bruce Cockburn. I’ve admired his musicianship and writing since I was a teen. I don’t think he’s much on beer, but I bet we could convert him throughout the course of the dinner. Bonus points if he brought his guitar along.

My husband, Mark Campbell, because I can’t imagine doing anything this cool and not have him there to share it with me. I think he and Granny would’ve gotten along like gangbusters.

The beers

Duchesse du Bourgogne – one of my all-time favorite beers. I think Granny would appreciate how nicely it pairs with everything from steak to cheesecake.

Hair of the Dog Fred, a Portland-brewed favorite. If I had five seats, I’d have invited Fred Eckhardt, but I will serve the eponymous beer instead.

Laurelwood Deranger Imperial Red Ale, another hometown choice. I stalked this down for The Beer Hunter when I offered to get him a beer and he requested “something hoppy and American.” He loved. So do I.

Great Divide Oak-Aged Yeti Imperial Stout, in honor of our Samoyed puppy named Yeti. She’s not oak-aged, but she does sometimes think she’s royalty.

Fantasy Beer Dinner #4: Andrew Mason

Andrew Mason

For more about what this series is part of look here.

Andrew Mason assists Matt Van Wyk with brewing at Flossmoor Station Restaurant & Brewery in Illinois, the 2006 GABF Small Brewpub of the Year. He also makes the Flossmoor blog one of the most interesting maintained by a brewery.

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?

1) Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz (1646-1716)
-paraphrased from Wikipedia-
A truly fascinating character from the Enlightenment. It would be nearly impossible to explain everything that he accomplished in his lifetime in this exercise, but here are a few. Discovered Calculus independently of Newton, was a Natural Philosopher, Discovered the Binary System, which is the basis for almost all of modern day computing, and was a contributor to Philosophy and the Technology of his day.
I got interested in him from Neil Stephenson’s Baroque Trilogy where Leibniz plays a major role interacting with his fictionalized characters from that time. If his fictionalized personality was anything at all like his real one he would be a blast to share a few beers with.

2) Martin Luther (1483-1546)
Another dead German but another one that I hold in high regard. I’m Lutheran, born and raised, and although we don’t worship Martin Luther, we do learn a lot about his life along the way. I’ve always thought the very human part of his life was very interesting apart from Reforming the Christian church, founding Protestantism, translating the Bible into the common language of the people, and writing extensively. He had a fiery personality and appreciated worldly things in addition to heavenly.

3) Mike Royko (1932-1997)
One of the quintessential Chicago figures of the last century. Royko was and history may show, the best columnist Chicago has ever seen or will see. Here are a few excerpts from Mike Royko, One More Time: The Best of Mike Royko published by University of Chicago Press. Royko wrote about the everyman and always played it straight. From Slate magazine, Jacob Weisberg says,

“Reading [his works] in the new posthumous selection, One More Time: The Best of Mike Royko, I found myself wondering: Why doesn’t anyone write a newspaper column this good anymore? Royko wasn’t quite a Twain, or a Mencken, but his writing was distinctive and memorable and in its time the closest thing to lasting literature in a daily paper. Royko could make you laugh and make you think, stir outrage at a heartless bureaucrat, or bring a tear to the eye when he flashed a glimpse of the heart hidden beneath his hard shell.

Royko would be great to have a beer with. In fact, if this was the ultimate fantasy beer dinner it would be at one of Royko’s old haunts, the original Billy Goat Tavern under Michigan Avenue. You know it even if you haven’t been there. Cheezborger Cheezborger Cheezborger.

4) David Bowie
The only living member of the dinner apart from myself. Does Bowie really need an explanation?

The beers

One would definitely be a Bamberger style rauch beer. I’m deliberately not picking a specific one because nearly any beer from Bamberg is perfect. I love rauch beers. Some of my favorite beer memories are walking around in Bamberg after a morning tour of the Weyermann Malt House, eating lunch, drinking beers, and discovering the city with my family.

The next would be a Kreuzberg Kloster beer from the area of Germany known as the Rhön. One of my first real German beers was their Dunkel, drunk out of a cold ceramic stein. But we weren’t able to drink the beer until we first climbed up the huge hill that the monastery sits upon, walked along the whole tour of the stations of the cross, looked at the enormous crosses on top of the hill (kreuz = cross burg = hill or small mountain) and walked back down the hill to the monastery where the beer is. And it was great beer.

A sour belgian-style ale
Something drinkable, but still assertively sour, acidic, and tart. Could be authentically Belgian or it could be an American interpretation.

Ol’ Woody
And I realize I don’t necessarily make the best beers in the world, but I sure as hell love drinking what I make. Ol’ Woody is a 100% Amarillo IPA that we make that is barrel aged in a used bourbon barrel and then dry hopped once it is pulled out. You have to serve at least one of your own beers at a fantasy beer dinner.

And although you didn’t specifically ask, and I already mentioned the Billy Goat, we would definitely be eating bbq. I have a passion for bbq that has drawn me all over the US seeking it out. There would be a mix of Texas brisket, North Carolina pulled pork, Memphis ribs, and some Kansas City sauce to go with it.