I’m always critical of the person who exclusively drinks macro beer. In fact, I can be critical of someone who drinks them with any regularity. Now that I work in a liquor store, I’ve observed a phenomenon. Mr. Regular comes in and buys the same old beer every time. He walks in and grabs Natural Light. He knows exactly where it’s at, how much it costs and has the exact change. “Put it in a bag,” he says. Who can blame him? I would hide it, too. What else can he be doing but hiding the fact that he bought worthless beer for the purpose of inebriation? It can’t be that he really believes that walking out a liquor store won’t be perceived as buying beer, so long as he has it in a bag. This article is not really about that; let people have bags if they want to feel fancy or do it out of habit. All I can say is that if variety is the spice of life, the same beer all the time is parsley.

How did you personally feel when I spoke of “Mr. Regular” a moment ago? I know that I feel critical. I think, “Why can’t you drink something better for something more than the purpose of inebriation?”  Maybe you even said, “Well, I drink Heineken, Corona, or whatever better brand.” I have a question for you: do you know right where the Heineken is, have the exact change, and won’t drink much else? On one level, better beer is better beer, so I don’t criticize someone’s choice of better beer.  Even if it’s something terrific: “Oh! I only drink Chimay.”  On the other hand, how is it any less zombie-like than to walk straight to a chosen beer without thinking about anything else? Have you “found” something and stuck with it come hell or high water?

The reason that I write this is because I’ve seen people doing this and thinking that somehow they are more enlightened than the Bud Light drinker. Maybe there is a sliver of enlightenment with the selection of better beer, but it still represents a narrow view of the beer world. Okay! I’m willing to concede that this person drinks two beers vs. one, but that’s still not so impressive. Is there not some level of inherent illogical approach to beer in this mindset? I think so, especially when the person is making fun of the Bud Light drinker. (Don’t get me wrong, I do my fair share of making fun, too.)

Let me clarify what I’m saying. I am not saying that if you have a “go to” beer, then I’m talking about you. I have a couple of beers that I go to if I don ‘t want have to think about the drink too much. I know the beer well, and it is good, so I enjoy drinking it on occasion. But for the most part, I’m always looking for a new beer. Notice that I didn’t say perfect beer. Perfection seems to me to be a fairly illusory concept, so I normally refrain from speaking about beer in those terms. We’ve said it before, beer is an experience. One that should not cease to be profoundly interesting. Who wants a boring and hackneyed existence? I know that I don’t. How about going out on a limb for something new?

So, here is my encouragement: don’t walk with your hand extended toward the beer that you always drink, no matter what that beer is. You look like a zombie going through the pre-programmed motions. Be a human with a brain that requires some cerebration. Check your zombie at the door and open up a door to a bright and colorful world of beer rather than the drab world of zombiedom.

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The simple answer is, “It’s the law.”  Sort of.

You see, the earliest example of regulatory action taken on a food industry was in Bavaria in the 1490’s, demanding certain standards purity and excellence in food preparation and distribution.  The law, Reinheitsgebot, was expanded in 1516 to include beer, for which only the ingredients of water, malted barley, yeast and hops were allowed as ingredients.  Namely the reason was preservation…the acid content in hops keeps beer from spoiling as quickly as if they were absent.

But clearly, 1516 is not the magical date in which hops were introduced into the beer industry.  In fact, it is nearly biblical.  Jewish written history tells of hops being used in beer while they were held captive in Babylon.  They write of a strong drink made from hops that was known to cure leprosy.  There are also obscure references of hop usage in beer as far back as 10,000 years in Asia.

Hops probably began to gain popularity as the Europeans began integrating the herb into their brew in the hear 1000’s.  In 1079 AD  Abbess Hildegarde of St. Ruprechtsberg writes,  “If one intends to make beer from oats, it is prepared with hops.”

We’ve already touched on the properties of hopped beer here–What’s Your Beer Made Of Part IV–so I want to hit on my theory as to how hops really caught on.

Money.

It makes sense to me, that while there were other natural preservatives used before the hop, none had such a preservative and antiseptic quality as the hop.  Prior to the hop beer was brewed with much higher alcohol levels to keep the beer.  Higher alcohol required greater quantities of grain.  Greater quantities of grain require greater quantities of money.  Hops, an easy and abundantly producing plant was much cheaper.  With the introduction of the hop, more beer could be brewed at a lower cost rendering a much healthier profit margin.  And I suppose, we all (including me) have a quired a taste for it!

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While in the grand scheme and history of beer hops are relatively new convention, they have found a home in human history for far longer.  In fact, the original name for the hop, Lupus Salictarius, is credited as originating from the lips of a famed naturalist, and contemporary of Jesus Christ, Pliny the Elder, who died in 79 C.E. while observing the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.  Literally translated the Latin reads, “wolf among scrubs.” Pliny the Elder was referring to the nature of the plant; that they grew wild amongst domesticated willows like wolves in the forest.   In fact there is a beer we may just have to taste on an upcoming Friday from Russian River Brewing Co. called Pliny the Elder.

Hops were used and consumed by Pliny the Elder and his Roman country men for medicinal purposes.  In fact,

Pliny the Elder

according to a report from Purdue University, the has been used as anaphrodisiac, anodyne, antiseptic, diuretic, hypnotic, nervine, sedative, soporific, stomachic, sudorific, tonic, and vermifuge, hops is a folk remedy for boils, bruises, calculus, cancer, cramps, cough, cystitis, debility, delirium, diarrhea, dyspepsia, fever, fits, hysteria, inflammation, insomnia, jaundice, nerves, neuralgia, rheumatism, and worms.

Gentlemen, please note that the hop is proven to damper the sex drive and is a sedative, so this coming Saturday (Valentine’s Day) I suggest you NOT serve your main squeeze a bottle of India Pale Ale if you want the night to end well.

The hop is widely use in witchcraft for a variety of potions, no potions of which are beer.  Which is good, or else we may have to change the name of this blog.

More to come…Cheers!

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One such ingredient, is the hop.  My next post I intend on expounding the history and qualities of this delightful herb, but for this post, I want to touch on a topic known as vertical integration.

Simply put, vertical integration is self reliance typically associated with any industry or type of production.   Take for example an auto company.  After drawing up plans for a specific model of car, they need a specific style of fender.  The auto producer could outsource the part.  They could hire a separate company to produce the fenders and ship it to the assembly plant (horizontal integration) or they could mold and produce the fender in-house (vertical integration).  There are benefits of vertical integration.  Cost saving are a possibility (but not always), but the most obvious benefit is the producer’s assurance of quality and a feeling of ownership and authenticity of the finished product.

Thus said, I have decided to incorporate vertical integration into my homebrewing and grow my own hops this summer for two reasons.  First is cost savings.  Hops are a pricey ingredient; however, the seeds are cheap.  Not only do I live in a suitable climate for growing the bitter preservative, but they are also an annual plant, meaning once planted they wil come back every year.  The second reason is that sense of assurance of quality and ownership.  The benefits of brewing a batch of beer with my own backyard-grown ingredients will ensure not only a unique product, but also a greater feeling of satisfaction accompanying each future sip.

I hope to eventually arrive at self sufficience.  To grow every ingredient in my backyard for at least one style of beer, but I know this may take years.  After much research, hops seemed the easiest and most logical starting point (plus the vine itself will add asthetic appeal to my property).  I am planning on documenting the growth of my hops on the blog.  If they fail, you will be a part of the experience nonetheless.

I am curious if any readers of this humble blog brew their on beer.  If so, have you taken steps to bypass third party products?  I really would love to know and would love for you to guest post on here.  Let us know, and stay tuned for my next post on hops, and future posts on home brewing and the growth of my own Humulus Lupulus (hops).

Cheers!

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A light golden and very active body was immediately evident when I poured the beer.  There was also a very stable head, which I’m sure was kept up by the very bubbly Ale.  Although it is a wheat Ale, and they describe it as being hazy, it was pretty clear at room temp (which is how I drink most beers). 

Nose-wise, Grozet was malty and almost lagerish in its aroma, while having a slight metallic aroma (and taste).  The aroma of Gooseberries was present but not overpowering.  Spicy hops aromas were also present in the smell.

Gooseberries were present in the taste of the beer, but once again, not overpowering.  There was a very slight alcohol quality that could be tasted along with a clovish hint provided by the fact that the beer was wheaty (cloves being commonly noticeable in wheat beers).  I thought the beer was good but nothing “historic.”

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I was enjoying a night on the town, when I was surrounded by nothing but average beer.  Then I saw a bright spot on the menu (of course, bright is relative when you are dealing with black holes among the beer world).  I saw Shock Top wheat, an Anheuser-Busch product, which I don’t enjoy too much in the bottle but have often really enjoyed on tap (there is a difference).  I proceeded to order this grainy and wheaty beer, looking forward to its nice flavors.

“Wait…what is that floating in the glass?” I thought.  ”Could it be…yes, it is.” 

A lemon was floating atop my beer.  I politely drank the beer and asked for the next one to be  without lemon.  Apparently the server had become so used to people ordering the beer with a lemon that it was almost counter-intuative not to put it in there.  And even Anheuser-Busch doesn’t deserve that.

Yes, I know you feel fancy when that lemon comes in the glass.  Yes, I know people look at you and see what exotic beer taste you have.  Yes, I know your tastes look descriminating when you put a lemon in your wheat beer or Corona.  But please, please, please…taste the beer first.  If the brewer meant to have lemon in the beer, he/she would have included it in the recipe or given a coupon for a free bag of lemons with a case.  Don’t ruin it for all by automatically putting lemon in your beer before even trying it.  If it takes a lemon to make you like the beer, maybe you don’t like the beer.  Who knows: maybe its lemonade you like and not beer.  Maybe you like hard lemonade.  Maybe your a rare species of human lemon weeble whose insatiable thirst for lemons will push our planet to the brink of extinction.  Or, worst of all, maybe you don’t like the taste of beer.   

In case this upset anyone, that is how diatribe and hyperbole work.  In other words, I’m overstating the case to make a point, which is: at least try a beer before you put anything in it.  I myself have even been known to drop a lemon, orange, or lime in a beer.  Let’s face it, citrus can be very refreshing.  However, to sound like the late John Lennon, “All we are saying, is give beer a chance!”

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A Pale Ale is not pale at all.  The utilization of lighter grains as compared to those used in English Porters and Stouts helped to give this beer its name.  Some of this had to do with technological advance.  I’ve written some stuff on grains already, so I’m not going to cover it much here (I’m providing multiple links in the articles to cover some other questions you might have).  In addition to being lighter than other Ales of the time, the beer was also more hopped than a Porter or Stout might typically be.  Rolling Rock is not actually a good example of a Pale Ale (check out the Samuel Smith’s that we have reviewed on here for a more classic example of this beer type).

Well, Pale Ales were great for the homefront.  But what about people in the British Empire who were far away?  By the time the Pale Ales that were sent to them from England reached them, they were old and spoiled.  Remember, the beer had to be shipped by boat in large wooden barrels.  The trip to India by boat was a long journey.  So, how could beer be transported to those who were so far away?  The solution gave birth to the India Pale Ale.  There are some other legends related to how this beer came about, such as a stranded merchant who needed to unload his beer, etc.  However, I think the first instance is the true story. 

What had to be changed about a Pale Ale to make it into what became known as India Pale Ale?  First of all, you had to up the grain content.  Second, you had to up the hop content.  Both of these had to be done generously.  Adding both grains and hops increased the shelf-life of the beer.  Not only so, but hops act as an antiseptic for beer.  The acids in the hops were especially key for both the shelf-life and cleansing aspects of the beer’s life.  I’ve read that hop levels could be as much as five times the average beer today.  Of course, some of this relates to using old hops and so forth, but they were still extremely hopped. 

From there, people (mainly soldiers at first) developed a taste for the style.  They began asking for that highly hopped beer that they’d had in India.  Until recently, this seems to be the way of things,  namely, many of our current beers were born out of historically necessary circumstances.  Now many brew to create something new and fresh.  Some historical necessities are just great modern amenities!

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As I mentioned above, hops are the major consideration in the variance of these types of Ales.  I’m using “Normal” to designated an English Ale that cannot be further defined by another category of Ale (i.e., it is not a Bitter, Pale Ale, Irish Ale, India Pale Ale…you get the idea).  So, in some ways it is a catch-all phrase.  I suppose these “Normal” Ales have also been called “Pub Ales” (of course, Bitters can also be called by the same name).  Hobgoblin might be a good example of “just a normal English Ale.”  If you see the simple terminology of English Ale or English Style Ale, you are probably dealing with a “Normal” English Ale. 

A beer that is less hopped than a “Normal” Ale is often characterized as a “Mild Ale.”  These beers can also have less alcohol than other Ales (but not necessarily).  One mistake that people often make is to think that Mild means mild in flavor, taste, or age.  However, the real distinction, as I said above, has to do with how hopped the beer is.  So, if you are the type of person that finds some English Ales too hoppy, try a MIld Ale. 

A beer that is more hopped and spicy in hop profile than a normal English Ale is often called a “Bitter.”  Admittedly, alcohol level can play a factor, but more hops being used (along with Orginal Gravity) is a primary consideration for style.  The beer may or may not actually be bitter in taste; it depends how the hops are used.  Within the category of bitters falls “Extra Bitter” and “Extra Special Bitter” Ale.  Once again, the beer designations are based on hop and grain considerations made when creating these beers.  Obviously, “Extra Special Bitters” requires the most adjectives and superlatives, so these are the most “Special” among these beers. 

The simple truth about various English type Ales, in my opinion, has a lot to do with grain and hop content.  This is especially true with the hops content factor.  The odd thing about these distinctions is, according to the late MIchael Jackson, the average British pub-goer is not aware of these distinctions.

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Samuel Adam’s Chocolate Bock is considered one of their extreme beers, if you look at their website.  They have four “extreme” beers: Chocolate Bock, Millennium, Triple Bock and Utopias (the strongest and most expensive beer in the world).  While the Utopias and company are more extreme, this one is not so much extreme as it is extremely good. 

The pour:  There was a fair amount of carbonation in the brew with fair head retention.  It had a deep brown color with touches of Crimson.  The beer looked almost as smooth in the glass as it did in the bottle.  By the way, the label on the bottle might be the most beautiful on earth.  It’s pewter and almost rococo label speaks to its cocoa beauty inside.  The bottle and look of the beer is truly an achievement in of itself.

The aroma of the beer was floral and simply popped.  Chocolate, roasted grains, and yeast were prevalent. 

The taste of the beer is really the awesome part of the brew.  Since this Chocolate Bock is put on top of cocoa, it has obvious chocolate notes.  There is more of a good deep dark chocolate taste and bitterness than other types of chocolate.  Yet, the beer is extremely smooth and imminently drinkable.  A slight sweetness in the beer is complemented by its ending dryness.  Roastiness, a slight smokiness, and nutty qualities are also in abundance here.  I also caught what I can only describe as the aftertaste of un-buttered popcorn in the brew.  Call me crazy but its there. 

All in all this is a magnificent brew.  Do yourself a favor and try it.

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