The Regional Brew series is all about surveying the craft beer of a particular area and reporting back what we find. The region could be anything from a collection of states to a single block in Ft. Collins, depending on how much time we have and how many breweries there are to cover.
This week I’m in Michigan. The best-known brewery in the state is Bell’s, out of Kalamazoo. But there are gobs of other fantastic breweries out here and, as usual, my list of targets far outweighs my free time. I need an underwriter.
So about two years ago, I did a review of Chimay's entire lineup. Chimay isn't necessarily a household name here in the states, but for those that know Belgian beers, it is probably the most recognizable of the Trappist breweries. Currently, there are six recognized breweries that can use the Trappist label, all of whom are located in Belgium and all part of Trappist monastaries.
What is less known about these breweries is that they play a critical role in the development of the American craft brewing renaissance we have been enjoying for the past several decades. Many of the founders of the most successful or most influential microbreweries directly draw their influence from Belgian breweries; these breweries, in turn, drew their influence from the over 1,000 years worth of Belgian monastic tradition.
Over the next week, we will be reviewing some of the lesser known Trappist breweries, discussing their general awesomeness and why we should both a) care, and b) drink alot of their product. Our discussion will begin with Rochefort, revisit Chimay Cique Cents (white cap), and hit on the non-Trappist (but closely linked) Duval. Stay tuned...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
So with the pending end of the first decade of 2000s comes any number of 'Decade on Review' issues. Most notable is the Onion's AV Club, who's annual Year in Review issues is worth waiting for, let alone their Best of the Decade issues. Far be it from me not to jump on a bandwagon: I give you the Breweries of the Decade:
But first some caveats. These rankings are based on more than just beer, but beer plays the biggest part. Tasting rooms, brewery sponsored events, personal impacts, trinkets - these all matter. Also, as a Colorado Kid, rankings for local breweries tend to get more attention than they may deserve. Not for preference necessarily, mind you, but because its more of what we got. So, angry letters can be directed to my sometime co-author, Brandon, who may or may not be writing about Michigan-based distilleries later this week.
But I digress, on with the show:
1) New Belgium Brewery. An obvious answer, possibly a cop-out, but in truth, its hard to argue with New Belgium when the all scores are added up. Despite notable mistakes - angry looks continue to be directed to you, La Folie - New Belgium's beers have been consistent staples, if not actively sought out. They are among the great originators of what I call the Second Golden Age of American Brewing (1985ish - 1995ish; in later posts, we'll give an exhaustive history of beer in America). Coming into being around the time as such craft brew stables as Brooklyn Brewery, Sierra Nevada, and Sam Adams, New Belgium has continued to push the envelope in terms of new beers. The much reviled La Folie proves this, but also their great and long departed Saison and Lips of Faith series prove a commitment to trying new things.
Outside the beer realm, events like the Tour de Fat cement their position as a leading brewery: these events are non-stop fun, and go far to celebrate the culture of beer (and bikes, which buys a lot of good will on the part of this author).
2) Dogfish Head Brewery. New Belgium takes risks and tries new things, in a measured manner. Dogfish Head, conversely, dives head first into new styles and takes all sorts of risks. Theres the obvious beers, the year rounders: 60 minute IPA and their Indian Brown Ale. Pretty standard stuff. But even in their year round beers, things are ratcheted up a notch. Case in point: Palo Santo, a personal favorite. Like a belgian abbey style beer, rich and dark, but aged in casks made from obscure Paraguayan wood (the largest wooden brewing tanks in North America, natch) with 12% alcohol (up there with most wines).
Stop and think about that. This is should be a niche beer, at best. Blindingly stong, not cheap (although not necessarily expensive by modern standards), and rich rich RICH. The tanks used give a very distinct flavor and smoothness, but not something you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking for it. Whos going to go for this, other than the the pickiest of beer snobs? And yet, this is a beer they make available year round. Imagine a brewery that is committed to doing that and making a beer with raisins - Raison d'Etre - and you see where I'm coming from. Their use of, and production of beers with, exotic ingredients such as blackberries, blueberries, and Pinot Noir juice (!) make this a brewery not to be ignored.
3) Oscar Blues Brewery. This might be viewed as yet another nod to Colorado breweries, but that would be wrong. OB earned their place on this list for two reasons: 1) great beer, and 2) starting the canned beer renaissance. Over the past decade, its been hard to avoid the Evel Knevel-themed cans of OB and the tastiness inside.
Generally speaking, their beers are dry and hoppy. Like many craft American beers of the last decade, OB hasn't been afraid of hops, despite a world wide shortage. Unlike many, thought, OB doesn't get silly: their hops serve an end. OB has a blue-collar feel, and their beers reflect it. Ten Fidy is as close to drinkable motor oil as a man can get - thick, dark as night, and of so tasty. Their Pilsner is a reinvention of the breed, with actual malty flavor most modern American lagers lack. Overall, these are the kind of beers you can have while renovating a house (trust me), tuning skis (again, been tested), or hanging our manning the grill.
OB tends not to get as much credit for their beers, however, as they do for how they get their beers in our hands. In a time when most craft brewers stuck by tried-and-true bottling, OB bucked the trend and began canning their beer. For the first time in decades, a good beer was made available on a large scale in cans. Cans that you can taking hiking, rafting, to a concert, wherever. This was a major shift for craft brewers, who saw their markets change dramatically. As recently as three year ago, your beer choices at Red Rocks or any other concert venue would have been a flat draft of Bud Light in a plastic cup. Suddenly, OB, New Belgium, and others are available...a win win for beer drinkers and small brewers.
4) Ska Brewery. You'll note that as the rankings get higher, I go further and further out on a limb. New Belgium is an (agurably) solid choice, but Dogfish Head? Really? Rather than reverse that trend, I've stepped further out on a shaky branch with my last ranking. But hear me out...
Ska is a good beer, a great local choice. Operating out of Durango for well over 10 years now, Ska has in recent years increased their presence statewide and beyond. Before that, my only exposure was swinging by their old brewery in BoDo after a trip to Durango Diner and only my way to the old Yeti Cycles factory for (hopefully) cheap gear. Times have changes since then - Yeti is in Golden, Ska's got a new bigger brewery, Durango diner remains fucking awesome. And Ska's beers like Buster Nut Brown Ale, the relativy recent Steel Toe Stout, and one-offs like their green tea beer from a few years back are as good as they always were.
And here is why I like Ska, and why I think they belong on my (and not necessarily your) list. I can think back and associate Ska beer with alot of good times - cross-state road trips, capping off great rides, you name it. I have friends who can look at Bud Light and say the same thing, and the crux of their argument for Bud Lights greatness would boil down to the same thing: when times were good, their beer was there. And for me, Ska is my beer, and so it earns a place on the beer of the decade list.
A wife was obtained, through legal, non-financial, and entirely consensual means.
At least one contributor had a significant career change.
My Jeep died, replaced by the obligatory Colorado Subaru.
All events were drink worthy. Some more than others.
The upshot being, while we've had numerous chances to drink (and have done so liberally) our willingness and/or ability to update this site have not followed suit.
But we're back. Oh dear lord, how we are back.
And with our return, why not return in style? Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you North Coast Brewing Company's Brother Thelonius Belgian Style Abby Ale.
There are things in life that converge nicely. A long mountain bike ride followed by Illegal Petes. A powder day followed by a few ice cold Olympias (yes, you heard me) and a long nap. Or, Jazz and Beer, in just about any form and just about any time.
Mind you, not any jazz: not smooth jazz, or cheese jazz like most people think of today. I'm thinking guys that made you work for it: Miles Davis, Cannonball Adderly, Art Blakey, John Coltrane. And of course, Thelonius Monk, the guy who made you work the hardest. For those who don't know, Monk was a pianist, whose style can be best described as challenging. But man, thats good stuff.
Also, Not any beer: yes, I can knock back an occasional Oly and still enjoy Coors 'Banquet', but I tend to prefer beers were the brewer has worked for it. Frequently, that comes in the form of Belgian beers (or at least, Belgiean-style beers). More often than not, my own beers tend to end up somewhat Belgian in style. In particular, I have a soft spot for abbey style beers: a little more alcohol content, dark amber in coloar, with a more rich flavor than most Belgians (Trippels, I'm looking at you).
So what should cross my desk (or liqour store, or whatever you're working off of) but Brother Thelonius. An Abby Ale, named after a jazz great? What? Wow. I said bring it, and it was brought.Thelonius is a strong (9.4% w/v alcohol) Belgian in grand standard. From a flavor perspective, it is a rich beer: I'm guessing the grain bill relies an a healthy dose of Special B grain, which generally imparts a sweet/rich flavor, almost along the lines of brown sugar. Unlike some beers, the amount of alcohol doesn't detract from the flavor; to the contrary, it is dangerously not noticable. Had it not been for some slight heaviness in the beer (as often happens with big beers), this would be a very easy beer to drink a whole lot of.
All in all, this one's a classic, and definitely up there in my top five. If you come across a bomber, or happen to stumble across the mythical Wisconsin bar that has Thelonius on tap (which a very relable source assures me exists), buy it, drink it, enjoy it. You won't come across many better.
Two more weeks, and we're back on the ball. Drinks to be had, stories to be told, trouble to be made...mark March 3rd on your calender, kids, and tighten your seat belt.
Wow, look at the cobwebs around here. I guess we're a little overdue.
Since we've been beer-exclusive so far at Jonesydog, we felt it was high time to broaden our usefulness and review something else. My friend Robb got some Scotch for Christmas, adding to a pretty diverse collection. It seemed silly not to sit down and try a bunch of them. So we did. The following report (and a weekend-long bout with Scotch-mouth) resulted.
Before we get to that, though, you should know that we are definitely not professional Scotch tasters. We just like to drink it. Whenever possible. You are fairly warned that we don’t have the same vocabulary or perspective you’re used to when reading Scotch reviews. (If you want to know more about serious Scotch tasting, click here). This review is for all of you out there that don’t care if there’s a fragrant floral finish or whether you can detect esters in the nose. We simply smelled, tasted, and recorded. Then tasted some more. And then stopped tasting and started drinking. I would say it was a long night, but I couldn’t do so from any personal recollection.
Anyway, on the with the Scotch Report:
First up was Bowmore, an Islay whisky that is matured in a sherry cask. No indication of age (meaning that it is probably 3 years old, the minimum required to be sold as Scotch, as I understand the industry--anyone want to correct me on that?), but simply named, “Legend”.
Color: rich, dark amber hue
Smell: very smoky/peaty, a little hint of dark chocolate, full but not too heavy
Taste: very smoky/peaty, spicy, black licorice, black cracked pepper, lasting power, burns a little.
Notes: Robb didn’t like this one much—way too smoky. But it would go well with a cigar. In fact, it tastes a little like a cigar. I thought it was okay: complex, though I wouldn’t want more than on in any given month.
Next we sampled the Mannochmore. This was easily the oldest in Robb’s collection, from 1977, bottled at 28 years. It is Mannochmore’s signatory vintage and a very powerful 59.7% ABV. An interesting note about Mannochmore is that it was extremely short-lived as far as Scotch producers go: founded in (the very recent) 1971, closed and reopened a couple times, then, depending on what website you believe, either shut down for good or run part time.
Smell: kind of an alcoholly, turpentine smell, but lighter and sweeter than Bowmore. We also noticed a hint of the ocean, like salt spray or something.
Color: light, almost lemon/lime
Taste: mouth is on fire, good slow burn due to the high ABV. Big full taste, smooth fire, robust. Really ignites your mouth.
Notes: This stuff really tastes like Scotland, makes you want to go fight the English.
The Macallan 12 Year was the one Robb got from my parents for Christmas and probably one of the main catalysts for this entire episode. The Macallan is a Speyside whisky and is distilled inland a bit, on the northern end of the island, about half way between Aberdeen and Inverness (I know this mostly because I stopped there once on my way from Aberdeen to Inverness).
Color: rich gold
Description from bottle: Nose: vanilla, hint of ginger, dried fruit, sherry, wood smoke. Smooth, rich dried fruit, wood smoke/spice. I guess this was right, though not in a million years would be able to distinguish wood smoke from any other sort of smoke. Unless it was burnt hair smoke. That has the worst smell. And forever reminds me of Michael Jackson. I know, weird.
Smell: sweet caramel, dried fruit, light smoke.
Color: amber, lighter than Bowmore. Looks like it absorbed a little color from the sherry cask it sat in.
Taste: Distinct Scotch whisky flavor, some heat. After I added a couple drops of water it became so very smooth, with a little spice and fire on the back end. Drinking it was kind of like running a race, then bending over, panting, your muscles slowly relaxing, and then suddenly getting a good spank. Very smooth and drinkable.
Johnnie Walker – Green Label(15 yrs.) Our only whisky that wasn’t strictly a single malt (but also not a “blend,” which is a mix of single malt and grain, like JW Black. The Green Label is “vatted,” meaning it is made up of single malts from more than one distillery), but instead comprised of malts from Talisker, Linkwood, Cragganmore, and Caol Ila.
Taste: pretty smooth and, I thought, less bite than Macallan. Robb thought maybe a little more bite than Macallan. We had to re-taste both several times to verify our conclusions. Definitely the most subtle so far, and the least complex. Very easy to drink.
The grand winner was . . . us, of course, since we spent all night drinking Scotch. But we both agreed that Macallan was the best whisky of the bunch. It's been one of my long-time favorites, I will admit. Our comparative sampling reminded me why: it's just freakin' ungodly good.
If you have a favorite Scotch that I should try, or just want to be generally disagreeable and argue with me, please fell free to post a comment. If you are Romanian and haven't logged on to this site in the last 6 weeks, please note that our advertisers feel you have a lot of catching up to do.
