At my usual bottle shop tonight I examined a 750 ml bottle of Brooklyn Brewery’s latest release of Black Ops, again, for the second week in a row.  There was a certain amount of hype going into the release of this beer, and rightfully so.  The ever respectable Garret Oliver put a considerable amount of TLC into this beer:  11.6%, aged in oak bourbon barrels, and bottle conditioned with champagne yeast.

I first saw Black Ops over a weak ago, but did not purchase it, simply because I am typically not partial to bourbon beers, and I was not keen on dropping $18.00 on a beer I was not guaranteed to fall head over heels for.  This week–however–I caved.  Here is why:

As I stood examining the bottle and reading the label an individual exclaimed incredulously, “That’s a lot of money for a bottle of beer!“  The man was not being rude…he was just quite shocked at the price.  He had been talking wine–not beer–with the store staff.  Nick, the knowledgeable beer geek on staff quickly explained that while there were only 1000 or so cases of black ops produced, his store chain had received only five cases of Black Ops statewide, and here in Toledo, only two cases had made it.  That’s 24 bottles of this one singularly unique beer for one metropolis of 651,000 potential Black Ops consumers.  Besides the finer ingredients and aging, it seems that obscurity (supply and demand) boosted the value of this beer.  After my wife pointed out that I hadn’t bought beer in several weeks, I purchased a bottle that will go into my cellar for a while.  The man behind me was quite interested, and perhaps may dabble in beer.

While Nick satisfied the shopper’s curiosity, as I peeped into his cart and saw several bottles of what appeared to be mid range wine, I considered engaging him in further conservation.  Is $18.00 really a shocking price for a 750 ml bottle of this quality of beer?  The few bottles of wine in his cart easily cost between $15 and $45 per bottle (I strolled down the aisle he had picked them from and eyeballed the price tags), and I doubt they were as obscure as the Black Ops.  I will give him that his wine most has age to weight the value; most likely it was aged three years.  But then again, respectively, my Perseguidor, also aged three years, was just over $20.00 for 750 ml ($10.00/12 ounces).

If Milwaukee’s Best is the moderate standard for determining a costly beer, than perhaps Black Ops is a tad pricey.  But is Boone’s farm the determinate for leveraging the value of a fine wine?  My boss, an experienced wine connoisseur, recently told me that a well rated wine runs a minimum of $75/per bottle; with Boone’s Farm as the standard, that well rated wine or even the $30 bottle in the inquisitive man’s cart is outrageous.  But if we are able to lump beer and wine in the same general family of “alcohol” and use the mid range $30 bottle good wine in his cart as the standard, the Black Ops is actually a bargain. The highly rated wine is $2.96/ounce (mid range about $1.50/ounce) while the highly rated beer is $.71 per ounce.

In perspective, even the pricier craft brews are actually quite inexpensive.

Like many of you, I am not in a position in life to fill my shopping cart each weekend with loads of craft beer.  Yes, it is more expensive than what the majority of American beer drinkers consume, but the trade off is I drink less.  But, compared to other fine beverages, like wine, I am able to drink more and, as per my preferences, I enjoy it more!

So next time you shell out ten or more dollars for that bomber or 750 ml bottle of special release or seasonal beer, I hope you cringe a little bit less as you consider the more costly alternatives in the vast world of alcohol.

Spread the Word:

It seems to me that the new most popular style of beer is not a style at all.  The replacement for the IPA is, ostensibly, the collaboration brew.  This thought stuck me yesterday when I saw that the largest craft brewer (Sam Adams) is doing a collaborative brew with the oldest licensed brewery in the world (Weihenstephaner).  This could likely be the largest collaborative brew currently possible among brewers (unless Budweiser and Miller do a triple-hopped collaborative brew mixed with horse dung…there are ways to improve their product).

Think about it.  Collaborative brews have achieved an extremely meteoric rise in popularity (can I really say extremely before meteoric?).  Where were the collaborative brews two or three years ago?  Now they are everywhere.  This goes to show how mercurial the minds of us craft brew drinkers are.  The fast rise in popularity has almost made collaborative brews hackneyed.  Okay, that might be overstating the case, but it seems that collaborative brews are showing up everywhere.  Why is this?

In some respects, I began thinking that perhaps our post-prohibition discovery of craft brews is a case where repression made us go crazy.  Did we grow-up to fast as craft beer drinkers?  I don’t know.  But we are rarely comfortable with the simplicity of a well made lager or British ale.  When we started drinking craft beers, we pushed hard, we pushed fast.  In short, we rushed headlong into craft beer with abandonment.  I think typical of our American attitudes (myself included) that maybe we have been impatient with our growth, like a 7′0” clumsy fourteen year-old.  Sure, we will be a great basketball player once we mature, but in the meantime we might be a bit awkward.  Point being that I think in some respects we shot up too fast.  Hence the demand for more and more.

Our extreme categories, our big IPAs, and our otherwise pushed boundaries seem to have left us reeling a bit.  Maybe the reasons we are seeing so many collaborative brews is because we now tire so quickly of our commonplace IPAs and other styles.  On top of this, there is so much out there that we feel obligated to drink it all and are afraid to like one beer too much.  So, the one-timiness and uniqueness of the collaborative brews helps us to feel that we are on the move and drinking history (in a sense).  We are always getting something new, more unique, bigger, stranger or a plethora of other adjectives that fit into our perpetual thirst.

This sounds really critical of people and collaborative brews, but it isn’t.  I’m simply point to why I think we are seeing so many and why I think collaboratives are the new IPA.  In fact, here is my positive spin of collaboratives.  People are not just drinking IPAs anymore.  Collaborative brews offer people a chance to try a style they might not have had or normally stay away from.  This is a good and horizon-expanding exercise. Perhaps people will rediscover a style that they’ve written off.

When I found out that Orval was brewing with Boulevard, I was excited.  I saw that it was an imperial pilsner and thought that it might be a great beer.  It is telling that certain people on beeradvocate and other large review sites were automatically critical before even tasting the beer.  To me, this is, once again, indicative of certain factions in our beer culture tending toward extremism.  The thirst for crazier and crazier beers seems to be insatiable.  Problem is that we will eventually find ourselves grasping at straws because we will have seen and done it all.  Personally, I’m excited that collaboratives offer the chance to try good beers brewed together.  So what if it’s a pilsner?  I’m looking forward to trying excellent ones.

As I said, collaborative brews give us all unique opportunities to try new (or classic), beers and I’m happy about that.  By all means, keep those beers coming.  But I suppose my question might be deflating if I maintain an attitude of wanting bigger, crazier, and stronger beers.  What’s next?  That’s the question.  It seems that our drinking is a bit like Jimmy Hendrix on guitar.  He stopped recording because he had run out of new material and new ideas.  Yet, the best stuff he did was blues, which was not really new at all. Newer, bigger, and more isn’t always better… is it?

What is next?  It’s hard to imagine that our beers will keep getting stronger.  Are our IPAs going to get IPAier?  Collaborative brews offer something new indeed, but they already seem to be getting old.  I remember last year at Dark Lord Day when I got some Popskull; Three Floyds did a collaborative with Dogfish Head.  Everyone was excited about the brew, couldn’t wait to drink it.  Here are two breweries that make huge and unique stuff.  For my part, I thought the beer they made was terrific.  However, many people were very critical of the brew.  Why?  Only because it wasn’t huge.  In fact, it was a very traditional ale.  Yet, some people couldn’t see beyond their expectations and attitude of extremism.

Some of us beer geeks may be a bit like adrenaline junkies in our extremism.  We kill ourselves for the next thrill or we simply get bored with the chase.  Still, it seems in our youthful beer brashness that we’re asking what’s next.  But we need to be careful because we might not find anything after a while.

What’s next for me?  Just enjoying good beer.  Re-visiting classic pilsners, porters, and a world of great beer that is all around me.  The new IPA for me is the the old IPA.  It’s Jimmy Hendrix playing the blues rather than trying to keeping pushing the envelope.

Spread the Word:

Perhaps as Sierra Nevada approaches their 30th birthday they are having a midlife crisis of sorts, because they seem to be ensuring that they don’t become an apathetic brewery.  After the recent collaboration with Dogfish head, the brewery announced more was to come, including the release of Glissade, a golden bock, to replace their old ESB spring seasonal.

First off, it is incredibly odd and game-changing to up and change a tried and true seasonal, but I think the move is bold, and warranted.  The ESB wasn’t bad.  It was actually pretty good, but really, how many times can you drink it?  Secondly…a golden bock?

In true reformative character, the reactionary nature of the craft beer movement shuns its past, even if that past contains great nuggets of truth.  I can’t tell you how many beer geeks I’ve come across have made some sort of incindiary statements towards lagers.  Yes, I know Anheuiser Bush/In Bev makes enough lager each year to fill the ocean, but does that necessarily make the style bad?  I think not!

Glissade is a golden bock, or helles bock; a higher gravity pilsner that is usually more associated with winter than spring.  The brewery uses Two-row Pale, Europils, Munich
& Crystal malts with German Magnum & German Perle hops to balance the flavor. The Aroma hops used are German Spalter, Slovenian Aurora & Styrian hops.  Besides the fact that many a beer geek is going to roll their eyes at this type of brew regardless of the brewer, and thus making it a bold choice as a seasonal, it is even bolder for Sierra Nevada, a brewery known for bold Pacific Northwest hops.

So what did I think of the beer?

I thought it was great.  The aroma is strong, sweet, and bears the trademark lager aromas.  The flavor is so smooth. Rich bready/yeast lager flavors, crisp pilsner malts, bicuit, and earthy goodness make the backbone.  The beer has a higher hop flavor than I feel is typical of the style (but that should come as no surprise from SN) but it is mild at the same time, coming from larger quantities of lower alpha acid hops.

The beer was great.  I drank one.  I drank another.  In fact, as far as Sierra Nevada’s typical lineup and seasonals go, this is one of my favorites.

A tip of the hat to you, Sierra Nevada, for not gettting stuck in a rut, and pushing beer drinkers and beer geeks alike out of their comfort zone.

Nate’s Review of Glissade:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★☆ 

Among other Pilsners: ★★★★½ 

Among other American Pilsners: ★★★★½ 

Spread the Word:

Having lived in Missouri (Springfield) for six years and spent more time in Kansas City than I can recall, it is a shame that I have never toured the Boulevard Brewing complex.  My repertoire of knowledge concerning their beers has been primarily limited to their session and seasonal beers, all of which are great, but have never dramatically held my attention.  With the introduction of their smokestack series, however, my interest was piqued.  When I read that their head brewer, Steven Pauwels, had created a collaborative brew with Jean Marie Rock of Orval, I had to meet him and see the inside of this brewery.  With a little help from KC beer blog, I squeezed into a fully booked tour.  After emailing the brewery, Steven Pauwels agreed to take a few moments from his busy schedule to meet with me.

While I packed a camcorder to “interview” Mr. Pauwels, it never came out, so I am relying on memory of my experience.

The Tour:

Boulevard Brewery is the 8th largest craft brewery (sales volume) in the US, and the 16th largest brewery amongst all breweries in the United States.  Thus said, I was still unprepared for the massive size and complexity of the brewery.  The brewery administers a top notch tour, geared towards the beer novice.  Sequential with the brewing process, one walks through each phase of brewing.  Mashing/sparging, boiling, fermenting, bottling, and finally ends up in the tasting room where each guest is given 4 tokens redeemable for 4, four ounce pours.  While I do not intend to re-enact the tour, I do want to point out the humble beginnings of the brewery, which was started by carpenter, John McDonald, in his woodworking shop, which is still a part of the brewery.

As I gazed up at the cones of the nine massive 600 Bbl fermentors, I was taken with emotion to realize what can happen when a man realizes his passion!  Each fermentor, the cone of which pokes through a thick 3 foot slab of concrete above the tour-goers head, is truly a thing of beauty.   As the brewery has recently expanded, they have spruced up their facility, adding decadent banquet halls, and amping up production.  The humble pictured below hardly do the brewery justice.  Despite their massive production, Boulevard still insists on the more labor some, costly, and arguably more delicious practice of bottle conditioning.   Instead of forcing carbonation into their bottles, each bottle is carbonated using re fermentation.

Mr. Pauwels

As the tour was wrapping up at Boulevards bottling line, Mr. Steven Pauwels joined the group.  As the 25 or so of us headed downstairs from the banquet facility, Steven met up with my wife (Sandra) and I, and shook hands.  I had intended on filming an interview with Mr. Pauwels, but as he was walking and talking with us, I switched gears.

Steven is a very humble, unassuming man; a quality I respect in someone as educated and experienced as him.  With his credentials, he could carry himself as an all knowing wizard of beer.  Instead, he presents himself as one blessed to work in the craft beer industry.  After the obligatory introductions, I asked him a few questions during the several minute walk down to the tasting room, the answers of which are in essence, and no verbatim.

How long have you been with Boulevard?

Ten years.  Steven, a native of Belgium, made the trip to the US for the opportunity to be head brewer of the company.

Did you go to brew school?

Yes.  Unfortunately I forgot the name of the school, but it was a four year degree.  Quite impressive, since most American brew schools are a much, much shorter tenure.  Steven said there was a huge focus on the microbiology and science of brewing?

Do you homebrew?

Laughingly, Steven told me he is a terrible home brewer.  He is much more comfortable working at the macro level.  Boulevards smaller scale fermentors is where he and the crew experiment.

You recently brewed a collaboration with Jean Marie Rock of Orval.  Why Orval?

Steven simply stated that it is simply because Jean Marie Rock and him are friends.  Subjectively speaking, I liked that answer.  It wasn’t to wow the world with an unheard of collaboration (Boulevard is the first US brewery to brew a collaborative brew with a Trappist brewery) or to boost sales; rather, the collaboration seemed to stem from the brotherly bonds of beer.

What is special about the collaboration?

Several things.  First, the beer is simple, utilizing only 100% Pilsner malt and 100% Saaz hops.  An age old and unused technique of hopping the beer prior to the boil was used to add character and bring out the earthy qualities of the hops.  Steven stated that the brewery did receive some negative feedback to the idea of their first collaboration being an imperial Pilsner.  How unfortunate!  Does a beer have to be an amalgam of countless malts, hops, and exotic ingredients to be good?  Just because the Big Brewers pump out watery lagered pilsners, does it really mean that the style should be excommunicated from the craft industry?

What are some of your favorite American breweries?

Here Steven fumbled, as any beer geek should.  There are just too many fine breweries in the United States to show preferential treatment. Nonetheless, Steven did mention that he is a pretty big fan of Ommegang.  Also, he mentioned that on a recent trip east, he spent some time at Bells Brewery and was quite taken with the quality of beers.  He also spent time in Dexter, MI with Spooky Ron of Jolly Pumpkin ans said he found their beer tasty and interesting.  He also noted that Ron is a fabulously kind individual.

Beer Bonding

As we were about to part ways and spend our tokens, I gave Steven a bottle of my homebrewed Belgian Style Imperial Stout, a beast of a homebrew weighing in at 17.4% ABV.  Steven chuckled and said that he had just brewed the first batch of Boulevard’s Belgian Style Imperial stout, and it was still in the fermentor.  he took Sandra and I away from the rest of the tour and poured us each a goblet of the un-bottled, un-carbonated brew straight out of the enormous fermentor.  It was fantastic!  The nutty, chocolaty, delicately spiced, and robust as can be, the beer could easily be packaged and sold as is, warm and without bubbles.  We talked some more, and compared ingredients in our similar brews and then headed to the tasting room, and picked up a most amiable brewer, Jeremy, along the way.

At the tasting room, we realized that we didn’t need our tokens anymore, as both Jeremy and Steven poured us beer after beer from their smokestack series.

All bias aside, there wasn’t a beer that let me down.  The Saison (Tank 7)  was one of the earthiest, rawest, most natural Saisons I have ever tasted.  There was a pleasant hint of rubber and lemony hops, balanced with wheaty sweetness. The Dubbel was stunningly complex and smooth.  Have you ever had a beer that you wasted all the flamboyant descriptives and simply say, “This just tastes good!”  That is how I felt about the Dubbel.

The Wheat wine (harvest dance), using about 40% wheat malt is a play on the barleywine style.  This beer knocked my socks off. it was boldly hopped with Citra hops, but doesn’t encroach on that classic and slightly overused grapefruity cascade flavor that dominates the American Ale market.  The wine is sweet and slightly earthy with a biting peppery finish.  I would suggest anyone reading this put this brew (Harvest Dance) on your “wants” list.

As we sat in the tasting room for over and hour and a half, drinking and chatting with Steven and Jeremy, that unassuming humility made for a fantastic experience.  Sandra and I legitimately felt as if we were a part of the Boulevard family.  We laughed, joked, and even talked about our families.  We were the only non staff left in the tasting room, and we had to get back to our babies, so unfortunately, we had to say goodbye.  As we were leaving, brewer Jeremy said, “I make it part of my personal job description to remind everybody who works here how blessed we are to brew beer for a living.”

Again, the love of the craft and the humility of this bastion of the craft brewing industry was intertwined in those words.  You can see it on their faces and countenances.

Like Chesterton’s misguided Seaman, my visit to Boulevard made me awakened in me a fresh appreciation and respect for the brewery.  It’s beauty and creativity was smack in front of me each day of the six years I lived in Missouri, but it is only now that I have become an steadfast admirer.

Fermentors

Barrel Aging Smokestack Series

Steven Pauwels, Caton, and I

Boilers

Spread the Word:

As you have no doubt heard, BrewDog has now made the world’s strongest beer at 32% ABV.  Of course, if naysayers would have it, it’s not technically beer at all.  More on that in a moment.  My real problem is not with intelligent dialogue on the topic, it is with dismissive and percile logic used on posts like the one that has elicited my response. The amount of assumptions and lack of thorough intelligence is singularly lopsided as far as this gent is concerned.  Roger Protz is apparently the world’s leading beer authority and a very intelligent fellow, but what he wrote will not do and is not enough to convince anybody who is not already of his disposition.  If you are going to attempt to destroy the merits of what someone has accomplished, at least do it in a thoroughgoing manner.  This brings me to what I’m going to do now: I’m fighting fire with fire.

Roger Protz has written about BrewDog’s latest beer, denigrating its reputation and calling the brewers bonkers, calling it not a beer at all, etc.  Here is one of my assumptions: the reason he thinks it’s not a beer may something to do with the fact that he’s a CAMRA member (nothing against CAMRA).  Okay, I’m not going to leave it there.

Why Bother at All?

As a pre-curser to what I’m going to say, I want to state that building a good argument takes time.  My father taught me (rightly) at an early age that if you are going to do something, it’s only worth doing if it’s done right.  Argumentation is much the same way.  A short post, which is written only to put something up and appeal only to those who agree with you is okay if you are not being contrary.  If you are, then more effort is required.

I could have written the same post that Protz did in ten minutes.  Why?  Because it is dismissive and amateurishly un-thorough for someone who has written 17 books.  Make me a believer is all I’m saying.  As a result, I can only address what he has written in his post, even though I know that there is much more to what he had to say than meets the eye.  Unfortunately, the article is what it is, and I’m addressing that.

Assumptions and Insults:

First, I want to talking about his assumptions and the insults that he uses to build his argument. The first point (if it can be called that) Protz makes is that BrewDog has an over-inflated ego and naked ambition.  I’ll dignify the comment even if it isn’t worth it.

Who argues this way?  Starting an argument with an insult seems a bit like two children on the playground.  Name calling?  That’s how you’re addressing BrewDog’s latest beer?  Oh!  They’re doing it because of ego and ambition…I guess that is enough to destroy their achievement.  Oddly enough, Protz’s argument is somewhat of an inclusio in this respect (namely, he starts and ends with this same concept of mudslinging).  Not only so, but they’ve surpassed/outdone (to use American parlance) their former ego-mania, a.k.a., you thought they were ego-maniacs before.  Obviously, Protz believes that other people also already make this assumption and that he is preaching to the choir, so to speak.

One could employ the same sort of rationale that Protz does and call writing 17 books, etc., as nakedly ambitious.  Of course, one would be wrong in this assumption; I believe it’s passion that drives him.  Could the same not be true of BrewDog?  Maybe it’s an ego-maniac who assumes that he doesn’t have to “make a case” because of his great reputation as an authority on beer.

Let’s assume that BrewDog is ambitious and ego-maniacal.  So what?  What does this have to do with the achievement?  The assumption seems to be that since they are ego-maniacs, this discounts what they’ve accomplished.  Is ambition to succeed an inherently bad thing?  If so, does this necessitate that someone is also an ego-manic?  Defiance, maybe…but doesn’t that seem to be the point behind the name?  (More on that in a second…)

My point is that name calling does nothing but fortify people who already share the same disposition, partially because they share the same myopathy.  I was really hoping for BrewDog to send out a response along the lines of “I’m rubber, you’re glue” to really heat up this profound debate.  Instead, they merely relegate themselves to the likes of quoting John Locke (major figure for American democratic ideology) on their site.

Next, BrewDog chose, deliberately, according to Protz, to launch the beer on the day that Parliament was reviewing laws that were specifically applicable to 32% “beer.”  First off, I was unaware that there are “non-deliberate” ways of choosing.  Do we really need to know that a choice is deliberate?

Protz’s ostensible point is that he sees the move as intentionally defiant.  Which is it?  Are they defiant by releasing this beer or are they ego-maniacs?  Maybe he believes that it’s simply a case where the ego-mania is substantiated by the act.  I think it’s not defiance he sees at work, but rather ego-mania because he seems to miss the point of the name entirely.

I’m grossly unfamiliar with English culture and politics.  Is it possible that Roger Protz is even more so? How does he miss the point of BrewDog’s latest beer’s name?  By way of dismissive insult, he essentially accuses them of smoking some of the good stuff to come up with this name, implying that they are pot-headed miscreants.  This does two things.  The association of alcohol/alcoholism (the real unspoken narrative within which this article is written) gives the spurious impression that to side with these, “the wild buckaroos” (an apparent insult via American attitudes), is to side with pot-headed booze hounds…yes, the BrewDog pun is intentional.  Rubbish!  Stuff-and-nonsense! Bullocks!  See, I can do it, too.

Tactical Nuclear Penguin is as intentional in its name as it is in its release date.  How is it that he either misses or doesn’t take this into account?  The “tactical nuke” appears to be aimed directly at the ridiculousness of the British Parliamentary procedure as it relates to legislation against beer.  Since when has protest been equated with nonsense?  I suppose Protz didn’t consider this simply because nonsense seems to be his modus operandi…there is an insult worth making.  Like I’ve said, most of this is not worth really dignifying, but I suppose I’m a little petty.  Now to the beer itself.

It’s not beer at all?  According to Protz, brewer’s yeast can only go to 12 or 13 degrees.  He can’t mean Plato; I know he simply can’t mean that.  I’m assuming, an inference I have to attribute either to language barrier or lack of information about his usage, that he must be talking about percentage alcohol.  Maybe there is a law in England that I don’t know that restricts calling something a beer if it’s over 13 degrees Plato…but I can only assume that he must mean alcohol percentage.  Still, this is incomprehensible to me.

At home, on my crude brewing equipment, I’ve attained 14% ABV with ease.  I used Trappist Yeast and added no nutrients to my brew.  Also, I used ambient air, which is far less soluble than pure oxygen. Thus, I had none of the advantages that, say, a brewer has.  Is he seriously trying to tell me that I simply imagined this?  There is a difference between theory/what you read and practice.

Let’s assume for one minute, as crazy as it sounds, that breweries can exceed what I’ve done.  For instance, let’s say I didn’t use the world’s most alcohol tolerant yeast (in fact, I didn’t).  Some brewer’s yeasts are capable of, let’s say, 15 or 16% in terms of thresholds.  Let’s further assume that yeast rousing, nutrient addition, oxygen solubility and brewer expertise play significant factors.  Based on this, I don’t think it’s at all unreasonable to assume that a brewer could achieve 17 or 18%.  In fact, White Labs makes a super ale yeast, ironically from England, that will ferment up to 25%.

Since BrewDog’s info is proprietary, it’s hard to know how they do it.  What I do know is that it’s ale yeast.  Who knows what someone might achieve through the use of ale yeast?  Point is that the water is a bit muddy in this respect.  Whatever the case may be, what Protz said is unfounded.  So, let’s say the lower end that might be achieved is 17-18% and the high end is 25-26%.  Now it’s starting to appear plausible.

That’s only X amount, you might say.  Either way, when it comes down to it, BrewDog could not have gotten their beer all the way to 32% ABV by simply brewing it, hence the need for freezing/freeze distilling/eisbocking, call it what you will.

It is entirely possible to gain another 2-5% ABV by freezing beer.  Alcohol, especially higher levels, takes longer (and lower temps) to freeze than water.  Essentially, taking the water out once it is frozen raises viscosity, ABV, and concentrates (a very important word) the alcohol to higher levels.  Who is going to argue that taking water out makes it less of beer?  Isn’t it water to alcohol ratios (sugar being included here) that make a beer stronger or weaker?  If one argues that eisbock isn’t beer (I’m not saying that this is what Protz is doing), then what is?  Tell me the magical percentage of water one must have to make something a legitimate beer.  If you can’t, then don’t detract.  Saying that doing this procedure somehow makes it less of a beer is ludicrous. Maybe fruit juice concentrate is not actually juice until water is added.  How about we add water to BrewDog’s beer?  Can we call it beer then?

Alcohol fortification seems to be the most legitimate sticking point on which to hang one’s hat.  They did pick up alcohol from those barrels of whiskey (which is made of grains, water, and yeast by the way).  So, I guess you might not call it a beer based on that.  Problem is that we call all sorts of barrel-aged beers by that name all the time.  To be consistent, we ought to avoid calling all of them beers in the proper sense of the word.  It seems to me that this semantic problem really comes in when you start the discussion about the world’s strongest beer–then we become particular about what to call it.  I guess we could call it the world’s strongest barrel-aged beer.  Would that appease?  Probably not.

(It’s interesting to note that the real difference between distilling and eisbocking is simply one of ethanol purity.  In eisbock making, the ethanol stays in the original substance and the water is removed.  In distilling only the ethanol is captured, leaving the rest behind.)

The whole discussion seems moot on several points, namely, calling the Tactical Nuclear Penguin beer.  The only sense that it is not beer is the couple of percent ABV from the barrels.  So, what should be the denouement?  BrewDog makes the world’s strongest beer that is 90% beer, 70% of that being regular beer, 20% being eisbock beer, and 10% being added ethanol?  Whatever you might call their creation, I call it beer.

(Thanks for sticking with this article, I felt the expatiation was a necessity, because the beeriness of this beer is in dispute.)

My question to Mr. Protz is, how do you know they used champagne yeast or wine yeast?  I don’t. Perhaps you have the code to this Nuclear program.  Here is yet another assumption that this beer simply can’t beer based on the definitions by which Protz is playing.

If that isn’t enough, he goes on to talk about the issue of sensibility (now he’s using sense…interesting).  He quotes James Watts as saying that BrewDog is pushing the boundaries, an interesting admission in the face of Mr. Protz’s argumentation over the fact that this isn’t a beer, or at least not a conventional one.  In an attempt to turn the phase on its head, Protz once again, boringly so, appeals to his trusty insulting insinuations: “Indeed, and it’s also pushing beyond breaking point what sensible beer writers and connoisseurs will take from this bunch of ego-maniacs.”

Is that so?  A.k.a., if you don’t agree with me, you are not a sensible beer writer or connoisseur.  Since he is a recognized authority, he must be right.  Classic argument from authority fallacy stuff at work here.  I suppose some of us simply aren’t sensible, then.  What else is one to conclude from this fellow?  Furthermore, the presumption that he is speaking on behalf of all “sensible” beer connoisseurs and writers goes beyond hilarity.  Who sounds like the ego-maniac now?

Finally, we get to the pith and marrow of what Mr. Protz is really about: “Those of us who attempt to paint an image of beer as a fine drink enjoyed in moderation by sensible people have the ground cut from beneath our feet by BrewDog, which just plays in to the hands of the yellow press, ever anxious to give beer a bad name.”

I see.  Now it’s about the good name of beer.  I didn’t realize that we should always act based on perception.  Status quo is the name of the game, my good little soldiers.  The implication of the first line is that BrewDog is attempting to paint a low brow drink to be swilled down.  Protz is apparently part of the good guy grouping whereas BrewDog falls into the bad guy camp.  Again with the implication that sensible people wouldn’t drink a beer like this.  So, BrewDog is cutting the ground from beneath the feet of the beer saviors, are they?  Hogwash.  How so?  Who says people have to drink this beer excessively or in an isolated manner?  Who says those purchasing the bottle are, or must of necessity, be drinking it excessively?  This same sort of logic would probably have Scotch consumed only from airplane size bottles.

So, the “yellow press” is ever anxious to give beer a bad name?  Isn’t this an interesting self-defeating statement?  Think about it.  If they are ever anxious to give beer a bad name, doesn’t it follow that they will ever find ways to do it?  I’m sure they really talk up the merit of 3.8% beers, don’t they?  The point is that those who look for something to degrade about beer will find it, no matter what beer is in view.  It’s more interesting to me that Mr. Protz joins in on the head hunting.

Now he justifies himself by saying that it is not the norm for him to agree with the Alcohol Concern.  That may be true, but it is not re-assuring because it’s a slippery slope, partly because I’m now wondering what is the cutoff of good sense, as far as Mr. Protz is concerned.  Can I drink a beer that is below the 30% threshhold?  How about 20%?  The last thing I want to do is to appear un-sensible.

I’ve already mentioned Protz’s inclusio of insult, but it is worth noting that Protz once again appeals to his trusty weapon to deal with the issue at hand.  He quotes Jack Law as basically saying those guys act like babies.  Very compelling stuff, Mr. Protz.  Then comes the remainder of Mr. Law’s argument, which Protz endorses, namely, “He added that the fact that the beer, priced at £30 a bottle, had achieved a new record was not admirable. ‘It’s a product with a lot of alcohol in it, that’s all. To dress it up as anything else is cynical.’”

What shall we call Scotch, since we are taking on new ideas about what is legitimate for certain alcohol thresholds?  I don’t feel cynical when I call a strong beer a beer, do you?  Frankly, there are few people here whose attitudes seem cynical, and they can be found in Protz’s article.  By the way, it’s interesting to note that in the U.K., beer is taxed based on alcohol percentages and not a flat barrel rate like in the U.S., so who might be to blame so far as the price is concerned?

So, what is this stuff all about?  Ostensibly, there are some major drinking problems in the U.K. and Scotland in particular.  Because of this, there has been a lot of lobbying and parlimentary hullaballoo over the topic.  Given that the government is now deciding for the people what is too strong a beer or a drink, BrewDog seems to have challenged the notion up to its threshold.  I suppose the previous challenge wasn’t enough.  Honestly, are beer drinkers going to pay $60 for a bottle of beer just to get drunk?  Are beer lovers really the problem?  My guess is that the answer to that question is no.

I want to state without equivocation that what I’ve written is not a personal attack on Mr. Protz.  He is a well respected member of the beer community.  However, sloppy and dismissive writing and logic are always of paramount concern to me when I read such nonsense.  My article is not so much an argument against Protz as it is an ardent defense of BrewDog and craft brewing in general.  Plus, I figure that my ardent defense of this particular beer might ingratiate us to BrewDog enough for them to send a couple bottles my way.  If they can’t ship it here, they can fly me there.  I’m okay with that.

In all seriousness, if you’ve read this article and know how to get one of these beers my way, I’d love to taste it.  I’m always keenly interested in beers like these.  Why?  Because while it is true that good craft beer is made from grains, water, yeast and hops, it is also made of that all-natural ingredient of adventurous iconoclasm–a fact my Protz has seemed to have forgot.

Spread the Word:

Obviously, the more specialty yeasts or variety of types a brewer uses, the higher the cost of the product. A corresponding lessening of cost is associated with fewer yeast strains.  Our macro brewing friends mostly use one consistent lager strain, so there is lesser cost for those who use this one strain.  Micro brewers, on the other hand, make a variety of styles, include multiple strain styles in a beer, and some even use fresh yeast to bottle carbonate/condition their beer (again, this is extra money for the brewer).

So, where does all this yeast come from?  Large brewers are able to purchase lab equipment, propagating equipment, and storage space for yeast specimens, which they keep in house.  Their ability to do this pays the expensive equipment off over the course of time.  They simply don’t have to keep buying yeast from labs and storage facilities.  This is a major financial advantage to not having to continually purchase yeast.

So, where is the micro and craft brewer in the midst of this?  It is true that some craft/micro brewers operate closely enough to a large brewer or a brew pub that they simply get yeast off the cone of the larger operation.  Simply stated, in the process of fermentation, yeast in a beer settles out to form a yeast cone, and healthy yeast can be taken (mostly from the middle) of this cone.  This yeast is then incorporated into the small brewery’s wort on brew day.  Often, a small brewery will pay for this privilege.  Other times, where a good relationship exists between the little guy and larger guy, the small brewer can get the yeast free of charge.  The major problem with this approach is the concern about quality.  One can never be sure of the brewing practices associated with the other guy.  Essentially, you put your faith and fate into the hands of the other brewer… so this is by no means the dominant method.

Many small brewers have to purchase (pure samples) from yeast labs in order to get the yeast they want. These stocks of yeast are kept and controlled by companies who do the lab work to ensure purity of sample.  Since lab work isn’t cheap, fair amounts of cost can be associated with purchasing yeast time and time again, especially when more than one type of yeast is used in a beer.  One way that small brewers deal with this is to re-pitch yeast from their own cones.  In other words, the yeast that has been produced in one brew is put into the next.  This can be tricky business, since different yeasts have varying amounts of potential for being re-pitched. In the end, the brewer must periodically send yeasts to the lab or conduct in-house tests to ensure yeast health and viability.

More often, though, fresh samples need to be procured.  The yeast arrives in a small amount that is not high enough in volume to ferment the amount of wort that the brewer makes.  As a result, propagation must happen by expanding the yeast cell count.  This is done by adding the initial amount of yeast to a small amount of wort.  Once that is done, the larger amounts of yeast are added to a larger amount of wort…and so on.  Propagation happens until there is enough yeast established to ferment the desired amount of wort.  Even if larger brewers do have to propagate, we’ve already established that their material costs for propagation (grains or otherwise) are less than that of smaller operations.

Is the cost difference for larger vs. smaller breweries significant?  The short answer is that it certainly can be.  Even if the difference is not massive, it is one more point in the brewing process where extra cost is tacked on to the craft brewer.  This, in addition to other factors, adds to the total cost of the beer you see on the shelf.  Hopefully, you are seeing why it’s more expensive to buy better beer.

Spread the Word:

The Pour: It’s amazing how one’s recollection of a beer can be skewed by time and expectation.  When I poured Bison Chocolate Stout, I noticed that it was not quite as dark as I remembered it being.  In fact, it was less Stout looking and more Porter in approach; light was visible throughout the dark brown/black body and a creamy light brown head sat atop–looked like a Porter.

The Nose: When I caught the touches of coffee aroma, I remembered that this was in fact a Stout.  For me, the dividing line of a stout and porter essentially lies along the lines of using Black Patent Malt or Roasted Barley.  I normally don’t see porters as having these coffee tones simply because they don’t (normally) use the darker and malts.  Thus, it seemed more stout-like on the nose than in the color.  Along with the coffee came sweet malts and, of course, chocolate.  I also noted a slight stale quality on the nose (I think this was also from the darker malts).  Even a metallic note was present.

The Taste: That metallic note came through on the first sip of the beer.  It wasn’t overbearing, but it was there.  I started drinking the beer as it was cold and noted the rich chocolate tones, dark roast, and touches of coffee.  There were some sweet notes that were probably bolstered in perception by the chocolate.  As I like to do with most beers I try, I let Bison’s offering warm up a bit.  At that point, the chocolate tones really started to come into their own.  The dark roast and biscuit qualities/malts (even though some people hate that others use the term biscuit to describe a beer) also became very distinct.

Overall, I personally prefer Bison to Young’s Double Chocolate Stout any day of the week, so I’m a little more enthusiastic about this one.  However, I think the short comings of this beer rest in its lack of more darkness and roast.  I also think the chocolate could stand to be a little more intense.  Contrary to what you might think, this is still a beer worth drinking.  My personal opinion is that the drinker tries a bottle and ages a bottle.  When it’s aged, this beer really comes into its own.  Pick it up!

Here is a link to the specifics of this brew.  Hope you know your gravities–it actually ends up being 5%ABV.

Mike’s Rating

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★¾☆ 

Among other Chocolate Stouts: ★★★★¼ 

Spread the Word:

What can be done?  I think an appeal should be made here–an appeal for the classics.  Sure, I realize that advances in beer technology, malting, and curiosity drives forward the mechanism of beer styles.  The classics exist because people ventured out.  The same amount of breakneck speed that we have today does not apply, in the same way, that the slow advance of experimentation did.  The stream of history is now a rushing current.  I think, in a real sense, that we aren’t, or maybe even can’t, create classics in the same sense that people did before.  Things simply move too fast these days.

I’m suggesting that we ground ourselves a little bit in history, the tried and true, the slow pace of less industry.  It’s strange to think that most beer styles were developed before or shortly after the current industrialization of the world.  Let me clarify that classic and standard are not the same thing; Budweiser is the standard American Lager, but it’s hardly a classic.  So, when I say classic styles, I mean classic renderings of styles.  Maybe archetypes would be a more nuanced phrase.

Am I just being a naysayer?  Not really!  I’d venture to say that I love extreme beers as much as anyone…but not at the expense of our beer heritage.  Sometimes people speak about how bored they’ve become with the fact that every brewery makes this or that style.  I’m personally of the opinion the the style should not be on trial, only its rendering.  Even if craft brewing is really catching on, many are missing the boat simply because they don’t want a quadruple IPA. I’m not saying to dumb it down–just pull it back a little.

Is anyone else tracking with this?  Maybe we’re bored because we’re boring in our unending thirst for the new.  It’s a bit ironic when our iconoclasm becomes platitudinal.  Don’t simply mistake this for railing against the new.  What I’m saying is this: like eating, drinking, sleeping and living, I’m asking myself to have a balance in approach rather than a lopsided solecistic attitude toward beer.

What do you think?  Will you do the same? I fully intend to revisit this topic before long.  Until then, how about a Hefe-Weizen, a true Pilsner, or a simple Bitter?  My ideal brewery makes some really good classics along with the really bad ass new ones.  What about yours?

***Note*** I want to be fair and state that some breweries are making classics, even if they are on Hegelian terms (thesis–>antitheis—>synthesis).  I’m more of a Kierkegaard guy (either/or).

Spread the Word:

Before you scold me for a brewery NOT being sought out initially, here me out:  My wife is pregnant.  She likes loves beer.  She cannot drink beer right now.  Renouncing apathy, I did not want the poor girl to be forced to watch me indulge in the forbidden fruit.  As it is, with four kids, going out to eat alone is a semi-annual event.  Anyway, there we were at the only Microbrewery in the Toledo area.

It is a shame that I have never visited the brewpub, but I had my reasons.  The brewery only one beer sold in stores that is produced by the microbrewery I found to be quite fowl.  You may remember it from our discussion on “sink-worthy beers.” Consequentially, I was not jumping at the chance to sample other varieties.  But there we were, and I found myself excited.  Our table was located right next to the large copper brew kettle, hot liquor tank, and the stainless steel fermenters.  Beautiful!  Minus the flat screen TV’s (they don’t belong in a ‘pub’) the setting was nice!  Unfortunately, the beer menu was not.

Absent from the menu, was any sense of individuality.  There were no big beers (besides Avery’s Maharajah, but I am talking about the brewery’s line), no unique recipes…just your run of the mill line line up:  Pale Ale, Lager, India Pale Ale, etc.  I do know the brewery puts out more varieties, but if they were available, the waitress neglected to offer.  In fact, when I ordered their IPA, the waitress condescendingly aske,d, “uhhhh…do you like bitter beers.”

“Missy, do you know who you’re talking to,”  I replied.  “Your entire beer knowledge fits in one my tiniest vivid recollections!!!!”

Well, I wanted to say that.  Anyway, the IPA arrived, I took a sniff (centennial hops…grapefruit…caramel malts) took a swallow, and was let down.  Please hear me out.  It wasn’t BAD, but it wasn’t great.  It was absolutely typical.  I would give it 2.5 stars.  The food came, and was good.  The waitress, while quite absent, was fairly pleasant.  Because I was alone with my lovely wife, I had a good time.

But I have been thinking non stop about the Maumee Bay Brewing Company.  I just do not understand why anyone would purchase hundreds of thousands of dollars of brewing equipment, renovate a historic building, and then produce nothing memorable!  Within half an hour of being there, we found we were the ONLY patrons int he entire restaurant, on a Saturday night.  I could not help but question whether others found this brewery’s beer to be as forgettable as I did.

I began stipulating reasons for this and postulated that the brewery was built around a business plan (the restaurant).  That is, the brewery was not the brainchild of a passionate home brewer, but perhaps a entrepreneurially minded restaurateur or business man.  I could be wrong…I don’t know the story, but it makes sense.  This seems plausible as several restaurants owned by the same entity are housed in the building that is also home to the brewery.  Also, were quality brewed beer the focus rather than the food, I do believe I would see six packs of Maumee Bay Brewing’s beer in the grocery and beer stores in the area.

I do intend on stopping back, as I read that the brewery intends on launching a series of “big beers” that will be sold in 20oz bombers–a step in the right direction for these guys!  All this beeing said, I do appreciate this brewery.  At least they are trying.  Like I said, there are no other breweries in the area.  They are adding just a bit of culture to a city in decline, and I think they are headed in the right direction. I hope at some point to get a behind the scenes look and foster some local pride.

So the question I asked myself, and I ask you, is…why would a brewery settle for mediocrity?  A lack of imagination?

Spread the Word:

New Belgian Brewery, producers of the shelf worthy line of Belgian style beers (Fat Tire being the most renowned), demonstrates the ingenuity that celebrates not only a love for the product and the inherent creative process, but the reversal of the top down mentality in valuing the toil of employees and thereby encouraging company loyalty. This is reflected in a ‘no duh’ flavored statement by CEO Kim Jordan: “There’s something wrong if making beer can’t be fun.”

And just how does the brewery go the extra mile to make beer fun? (as if beer wasn’t fun enough already!) From CNN:

After one year of work, each employee receives an ownership stake in the company and a free custom bicycle. After five years every employee enjoys an all-expenses-paid trip to Belgium — the country whose centuries-old beer tradition serves as a model for the Fort Collins, Colo., brewery. Oh yeah, and employees get two free six-packs of beer a week.

The perks aren’t just for fun, though. Each one is an expression of the company’s ethos. The free bikes help the environment. The trips to Belgium commemorate Lebesch’s bicycle tour of that country’s breweries in 1989 — the original inspiration for the company, now the third largest craft brewery and the eighth largest overall in the U.S.

“Operating a business in a way that is consistent with your values is particularly pleasing,” says Jordan, 50.

Those values include employee ownership. Workers own 33% of New Belgium, which has 320 employees and posted $93 million in revenue last year. A large proportion of the staff participates in strategic planning and budgeting. “People are engaged and committed,” Jordan adds.

Breathe a breath of fresh air with me…exhale AIG, Merrill Lynch, and GM…inhale New Belgium Brewery.

I, for one, could not be more impressed and exceedingly overjoyed to have found my niche in the craft beer culture

Besides the fact that New Belgium can go to sleep at night with an easy conscious having given in to a high ethical standard, they have convinced one beer geek to search out their product the next time he finds himself attempting to wet his whistle in the aisle of his local bottle shop.

Tip of the hat to you, New Belgium!

Any other heart warming beer stories?  Please share!

Spread the Word: