I make no bones about it:  I hate pumpkin beer.  That doesn’t mean pumpkin beer deserves abolition, I personally just do not like pumpkin beer.  That aside, I’ve come to realize I am truly a beer savant and felt it my duty to inform the masses that I discovered the world’s greatest pumpkin beer.  Since the denouement of any literary work hardly belongs in the first paragraph (even in such an erudite form as a blog) you’ll have to read on through some context  to discover what beer my discerning tongue has established as world class.

The story begins with me tearing off 3500 square feet of shingles. Roofing. Horrific. But unfortunately, this world demands capital for survival, and having lost my job, regarding capital, I found myself lacking in that department.  So when the opportunity came to make a few shingles doing “handyman work” while I wait to land my dream job, I leaped at the opportunity, even though it meant  (a frequent victim of acrophobia) ascending Babel.

I worked hard.  Nearly 12 hours a day working muscles I didn’t know existed, not drinking an brew at night, and dreading the next day paid off unexpectedly.  The last day at the job, as I was cleaning up in the evening, the homeowner came up to me and said, “Young man, are you married.”

“Yes sir, I replied”

He suddenly placed a $1o0 bill in my hand and said, “I’ve been watching you work…you’re a hard worker, take your wife out to dinner.”

To be honest, I nearly shat myself.  I said thank you and pocketed the small fortune.  At the first instant of receiving the gift, I thought, “Sweet!  I can apply this to my mortgage!”  But after some thinking, I realized that I really should take my sweet wife out to dinner.  With five kids and floss string budget, it has been months since we’ve indulged in some alone time.  So we headed out to downtown Kansas City that coming Friday.

At “The Beer Kitchen” I threw up in mouth a little when I saw that a bottle of Monstre Rouge cost $36 and a 6 ounce pour of Brother Thelonius would run me $7.  Whatever.  This was a special night.  I ordered some forgettable French beer, a Brother Thelonius, and a burger.  My wife did the same.  It was good, and we still had a little bit of that $100 left, and the night was young.  I wanted a bottle of some Jolly Pumkin, but didn’t want to spend $25 on it, knowing that back in Ohio I could pick it up for $10.  So we paid our waiter and headed across the street to the Foundry.

Having never been there, I wasn’t sure what the beer menu would offer.  The place was swarming with tragic hipsters–typically a sign that good beer is around, but I’ve noticed that ever nook cranny of Kansas City seems to be crawling with tragic hipsters.  When I opened the beer menu and saw Jolly Pumpkin tap I think I giggled.  When I saw that a full 6 ounce pour was only $6, I think I slipped into hysterics…until I saw that it was La Parcela, Jolly Pumpkin’s tribute to the wacky weird of Pumpkin Ales.  This is one of the few Jolly Pumpkin beers I’ve not tried.

Talk about a rock and a hard place:  Hate pumpkin beer, love Jolly Pumpkin, In KC, missing home a bit, hipsters tragic mustache at the next table is creepy…yeah, I ordered it.

It was good.  Great.  It surpassed every every other beer in the category.  In fact, the pumpkin flavor was so peripheral, that it didn’t distract from that fact that what I was drinking was actually beer.  The bretty sourness worked so well with the spicy nature of the ale.  There’s no need to write an excessive review of the brew.  The world’s best pumpkin beer was just good, and it not only made some coveted alone time with my wife that much better, it made the hours on the roof, the sunburn, and the blisters on my hands worth it.

Craft beer drinkers enjoy their brews.  The variety of flavor combinations, style interpretations, and the sheer variety in the world of craft beer is simply astounding.  It is a veritable world of snowflakes and fingerprints; no two craft beers are exactly the same.  Why?

Care and concern of what a beer tastes like drives the world of craft beer.  Creative desires often take the front seat over consumer demand.  If one could some up what a craft beer is supposed to do, it might be something like “take pause and think.”  Indeed, that is the very response that good craft beer evokes.  It truly is beer by intelligent design.

Macro beer, on the other hand, is driven by consumer demand and a world where snow is snow; who cares if no two flakes are alike?  And, rest assured, most snowflakes are clones of other ones.  If craft beer causes one to take pause and think about what he or she is drinking, macro evokes the play hard and settle mentality.

Poor macro beer never stood a chance on this blog; the odds were stacked against it.  We were content to let it fade into the oblivion in which it belongs.  Then, it made us come out of hiding.  What happened?

Has anyone else noticed what all these beer ads are implying lately?  Let’s look at a few.  First, the ads where people are drinking Bud.  Shot by shot the commercial shows how indispensable Bud is for a fun party.  Be that as it may, you also see some shots of it being cracked open with a bottle opener.  What?!

Now, I admit that I don’t have a Bud very often (gladly), but the last time I had it the cap was a twist-off.  Even if they did switch to pry-offs, it is a response to the craft beer movement in the U.S.  So, what is the implication?  Well, it seems to me that they are riding the bandwagon in the respect of pry-offs and, by subtle implication, saying, “Hey, look we are craft.”  Sure it’s a quick shot, yet well placed non-verbal statement can do wonders.

The second example I’ve recently seen is—and it is more explicit in its implications—in a commercial that involves constructing a boat.  Have you seen this one?  Narration runs along the lines of “you love to build it yourself”…etc.  In this commercial, the fellow is building the boat, himself, from scratch, and the shots show it at various stages.  In comes his big boy brew, and he enjoys it because it is also crafted with similar blah blah blah.  Like that is actually the case.  Then, the worst part is, the boat’s name is (I forgot the first word) “X Craft.”

Wow!  What an implication.  Between the rhetoric of crafting it himself and zooming in on the word, I think the commercial is trying to say something.  Don’t you?

Just another brief example that I think is a bit more subtle.  I see quite a few billboards in L.A.  On several occasions I’ve seen the Miller Lite sport posters with the team jersey or helmet donning the brew logo.  Of course, the pro-team with the logo implies excellence and appeals to our love of sports.  Not a bad ploy.  Of course, pro athletes are the best at a particular sport; ergo, Miller Lite must be the best…etc.  In my mind, that is the connection.

Of course, I would argue that a finer point of the poster is more accurate.  The jersey and player are always vague and indistinct. Now that is more in line with the big boy brews.

Okay, so I’ve complained about the big boys, and it feels so very cathartic.  But what does it really mean?  In my mind, it means the big boys don’t want to evolve and make changes into really making craft brews.  They simply don’t care about that.  However, they do want to ride the wave of craft beer by painting a perception.  If I didn’t know better, it seems like there is a degree of desperation in the move.  They’ve sunk to a new low.  They used to paint their product based on what it was, now they are trying to get away from the true identity of their product.

This teenage identity angst shows that the wave they are trying to ride may eventually overtake and drown them in their cheap ploys with a rich foam of great beer.

What you drive can say a lot about you.  I rock a Nissan Quest Minivan.  The carpet is hidden beneath layers of graham cracker crumbs, the windows are mired in finger prints, and back to rows of seats boast some wicked Graco childs’ car seats.  No, I’m not a rock star (your shocked, right), I’m a family man.

A couple of weeks ago as I was riding a bicycle through my new neighborhood, I nearly lost my balance and careened into the gutter.  I hadn’t hit any potholes and the tires hadn’t blown, I had just become so distracted by the monstrosity you see below.

To begin with, late 80′s Ford Econoline Conversion Vans–especially the ones with the raised roof (clearly made for habitation, not just transportation)–are creepy in an of themselves.  They hearken of weird Cody from the most awesome sitcom ever (Step By Step) and that creepy dude that always parks in front of the elementary school when classes let out.  BUT, throw in a full scale Busch Beer decal, and you’ve rendered me speechless.

What would inspire an individual to spend their hard earned money to adorn their mystery mobile with an in your face, Busch, body wrap? I tried to give my neighbor (he lives one block away) the benefit of the doubt, that maybe this relic was once owned by Anheisur Busch and perhaps he had just picked it up at an auction.  Certainly he is not that evangelistic for Busch beer.  But as my wife was jogging past the monstrosity, she noticed the license plate:  HD 4 MNT.  Yup.  That’s a Vanity Plate recalling Busch’s famous slogan, “Head For The Mountains Of Busch.”  Good God…the owner of this thing really is a Busch fanatic.

I guess we all are peculiar in some way.  While I hate it when I am wearing only socks on my feet and step in a puddle of water, I am sure somebody, somewhere absolutely loves the sensation.  The moral?  To each his own.

None the less, a couple of questions come to mind…

1)  I’ve never laid eyes on the owner…what sort of person would you stereotype he/she to be?

AND

2)  If you had to geek out your vehicle with loyalty to a particular brewery, what would you choose?

AND FINALLY

3)  Deep inside, do you long for this van?

<!–adsensestart–>

I really wanted to write this profound article about beer and connect with people.  The specific post I wanted to put up pertained to meeting Bix Tex and how we connected, hung out, and spent some cool (but brief time) together.  However, he beat me to the punch, so I’m now pulling my own.  The post he wrote is a read that is more worthy than one I could construct…allow me to direct you to the post he wrote.

Admittedly, I’m a little biased about how good his post is because it’s about yours truly.  What I do want to express concerning what Tex had to say about our encounter is that I’m humbled and gratified.  Thank you so much for writing it Tex.  Your response our sharing of beer and food makes my brewer’s heart full of joy.

It’s been a bit of a long week.  I had Saturday off this week (but not really) but had to head to San Diego for work on Sunday…I’m looking forward to the weekend.  I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a fan of conferences and navigating social relationships. However, besides connections that will hopefully help build the company (which I actually care about), I found an amazing point of contact with my fellow attendees.

Business people work pretty hard, but they also play kind of hard as well.  So, how do they play?  Well, I met several people who just love beer.  These weren’t the type of people that simply booze it up.  These are people who told me the highlight of their year was this or that beer festival or a homebrew competition.

It’s funny when you think about it.  Contacts that are affected are pretty transparent.  Forced interactions can be painful.  But conversations built on mutual loves are comfortable like a favorite recliner.  So, when the rooms cleared and the shuffle of business cards stopped, I was able to simply talk about life and beer.  These connections might be far more convincing than anything I could have said.

Perhaps networking isn’t so bad!

Stop.  Go back and sing the title of this post to the tune of Eminem’s “will the real slim shady please stand up.”

Ok, now we’re ready to talk beer…A while back I wrote a confessional of an article that proposed that many of the beloved beer reviews floating across the Internet are laden with bovine excrement, and that I, for one, have a hard time taking many of them seriously.  Mosey on over to RateBeer.com and read through any number of craft beers, and note that the point spread is very minimal between beers.  Now head on over to beer advocate and you’ll note that if the majority of the reviews were missing the name of the beer in question, you’d have a hard time pinpointing the style.  It’s “caramelly this” and “hoppy that” on nearly every review.  And the spread of opinions can be drastic per beer.  One beer dudette rates it a C-, next beer dude rates it A+.

This disparate trove of opinion and rate are as noticeable in the beer blogosphere, only there’s a little more ego involved.    What makes a guy or gal a “beer expert” these days? Apparently $49.99 in self hosting fee, a little php/html knowledge, a big mouth, and a fridge full of beer.

Yes, I know…beer is subjective TO A POINT.  I mean, if someone hates IPAs, it would be unfair for them to pick up an IPA from some well known, quality brewery and flunk the poor beer despite the fact that it was produced with quality ingredients and labor, and is without error.  Sometimes, I read through the comments of a beer review and for some reason and am weirded out that all the “experts” seem to have a different opinion.  I just wish they would admit that there are objective elements of a brew.

I propose we need a real beer expert…you know, the type who speaks from an ivory tower, whose authority is recognized, who is objective in reviewing a beer and the industry, but isn’t a jerk.  The wine industry has them (though their getting lost in the fray).  The food industry has them?  Is it so horrible that we should not?  I know a few people reading this are, at this point, irritated and busting out their “Don’t Tread On Me” flag.  But please, keep reading…you are just as valid (in my opinion) as the non-beer-expert writing this article.  All I desire is another Michael Jackson (The Beer Hunter) who we can all revere, who we can compare our beer notes with, and who, if needs be, can be an authority in cases of general dissent.

As a guy who would like to open a brewery someday, I’d love to have this figure around to honestly dissect a future brew of mine.  I suppose in his absence I could randomly send samples to the mass of bloggers and/or high ranking members of the Alstrom Brothers’ site, and, while I’d be sure to nail at lest a few home run reviews, it just wouldn’t compare to the accolade (or constructive criticism) that would come from the expert.  The community that is formed via beer rating sites is beyond valid, as is their input…it is just to varied for the likes of this guy.  And while I am a beer blogger, I’m not (at this point) the next Michael Jackson.  I know a heck of a lot about beer, true, but I am not prepared to be that voice of beer authority.

In a recent article, Mike described how the right setting and it’s ambiance can make a beer drinking experience that much better. In fact, he stated that drinking a Spaten Oktoberfest (a good, but certainly not mind-blowing beer) in Yosemite National Park made the beer one of the best he’d ever had.

As soon as I read that, I was transported back to a similar experience, and thought I’d share…

…Back in 2002 I spent a couple 0f months in the Balkans, spending the majority of the trip in Croatia.  Though the trip provided amazing, life changing experiences, the only drawback was that the group sponsoring the event forbid drinking alcohol.  No biggee, really.  I frequently fast from alcohol and find it easy to do.  However, I REALLY wanted to have a beer, namely an ethnically suitable beer while out of the states.

About a month and a half into the trip, myself and the two other guys I was staying with, were given a 3 day “vacation.”  We decided to hit the Adriatic coast, the destination being Opatija, which required a lengthy train ride from the town of Slavonski Brod where we were staying.  It was exciting…we didn’t know where we were going or what we would do when we got there.  In fact, the first night we couldn’t find a place to sleep and climbed the fence seeking shelter in a Catholic Church’s outdoor garden.

The train ride was amazing.  As the rickety vessel traversed us through lush green mountain ranges dotted with decaying castles and little farms, it occurred to me that I was on “vacation” and that certainly freed me from the chains of abstinence.  Or I was just rationalizing away my desire for a beer.  Regardless, I impetuously decided to make my way to the vending car to purchase a beer.  I bought myself a can of Ozujsko Pivo.  It was warm…no, not just warm, borderline hot, and there was no glassware provided.

The beer, a typical macro-ish lager now owned by In-Bev, foamed up when I opened it.  As I poured the liquid in my mouth I looked out the window.  As a kid who hadn’t traveled much but constantly suffered from an extreme case of wanderlust, the experience made the otherwise lackluster beer delicious, and the memory has been engraved on my brain.  If I ever find myself on a train in Croatia again, it’s Ozujsko Pivo, regardless of selection.

Yosemite is an awesome place.  Seriously, it is awe inspiring.  Andrea and I (and some friends) went to the park this past weekend and hiked all over the place.  We climbed half-dome and literally tried to put our arms around some giant Sequoia trees.  I can see it was one of truly magnificent places that I’ve ever seen.  In fact, I already want to go back.  But let’s get to the beer.

I’ve written a post quite a while back that alluded to the fact that I don’t enjoy a beer in a noisy, stuffy, “can’t hear myself think” kind of place.  I hate it.  Sometimes, even when I know the beer is great, I just cannot appreciate a beer.  Personally, I believe that we humans don’t admit how much a role emotions and psychological conditions actually define how we act and how we perceive.

So when I drank some Spaten Oktoberfest in nature’s theater, I was so throughly happy about drinking it that it was one of the best beers I’d ever had.  Of course, I think it’s a very good beer already, but it’s not earth shattering.  But in that brief dispensation of time it towered like the mountains.

What do you think?  Share your story about context making a beer wonderful.

From smoked porter fajitas to blue berry stout jam, I love cooking with beer and experimenting with flavor profiles.  We just got back from Yosemite, and the fridge was looking pretty sad when we got home.  Last night was not a good one for shopping, so I had very little to work with when I got home.  Fortunately, I’m a bit touched in the head and came up with a really nice recipe for some beer pork chops.  I really loved the flavor and simplicity of the dish.

Belgian dubbels are known for their plum, dried fruit, and complex mineral character—at least the Trappist varieties.  I recently brewed one and am giving it some aging time, but I figured that I could steal a bit from the fermenter.  I also happened to get some figs from a co-worker and had some plums from before we left.  Then the idea for pork chops with fig, plum, and dubbel hit me.  It turned out very nicely while having the right amount of sweet and savory qualities, so I thought I’d share the recipe.

• 2 to 4 pork chops (mine were about 1/4 of an inch thick)
• 1/2 to 1 whole Onion
• 2 to 3 cloves garlic
• 1 Plum
• 1 to 2 figs
• Pinch of Sea Salt (to Taste)
• Pinch of Freshly Ground Pepper
• 1 to 3 teaspoons sugar (according to your desired level of sweetness)
• 1/4 Teaspoon Basil
• Dash of Balsamic Vinegar
• Dash of Worcestershire Sauce
• 1 1/2 Cups Belgian Dubbel
• Olive Oil

Start by searing the chops in hot olive oil.  Salt and pepper them as you are searing each side for a minute or so.  Add the onion (I like to to make half rings) and cook for 3 minutes or until slightly soft.  After the onions have cooked for the 3 minutes, add the garlic and cook for an additional 3 minutes.  Make sure to flip the chops when adding the garlic.  Mix all liquids together while cooking occurs. After the garlic and onion have cooked for a few minutes, add the figs and plums.  I like to quarter the figs and slice the plums thinly. Add the sugar as well.  Cook for a few minutes and add the rest of the ingredients.  Cook for about 5 minutes and pull the chops out. Reduce the rest until the liquid becomes thicker (5 min or so) and add the chops back in to glaze them.  Serve them and enjoy!

Back when I arrogantly considered myself a musical maven, I remember growing so tired of the endless collaborations that were inundating the music industry…namely the pop music industry.  If one’s career was adrift in the doldrums of consumer yawns and poor record sales, the solution was to finesse a way into the studio of ex-boy-band-member, the I-don’t-cuss-too-much-rapper, or the I-don’t-write-my-own-music-but-am-hot-and-use-a-lot-of-vibrato chick.  While it worked for Santana and appeased the masses, I found it boring.

All that to say, there are a heck of a lot of collaborations going on the craft beer industry, and for the most part, I’m bored with them.  Some, I can appreciate, like Avery/Russian River’s Collaboration Not Litigation Ale, as it has a good story behind it.  Usually though, the beers that emerge from such collaborations strike me to be more about creating a marketing buzz (as in the music industry) than anything.  Nonetheless, it is one of the few marketing strategies proprietary to the craft beer industry.  Can you imagine if Bud and Coors hooked up for a collaboration?  I imagine it would taste a lot like a bland watery pilsner.

Despite my boredom and slightly suspicious attitude regarding craft beer collaborations, as a homebrewer, I try to give the guys living my dream credit, that underneath the desire for shelf recognition they are really pumped up about brewing a batch of beer with a peer.  As a homebrewer, I am always geeked up about collaborating with another homebrew, and obviously, since the beer will child of such collaborations will never hit the market.  This coming weekend I’ll be collaborating with a buddy I haven’t seen in years.  I am giddy with excitement, especially since I’ll be given the opportunity to not only collaborate with him, but walk him through his first all grain batch.

As I was daydreaming about the recipe, it suddenly occurred to me that it would be a great idea for a craft brewery to take a break from the now glut of craft-brew-superstar-collaborations, and plan a collaborative brew with a no name home brewer.  I’d be more inclined to buy a bottle of DogfishHead & Joe Schmo Homebrewer Collaboration than Dogfish Head and Other Big Craft Brewer Collaboration.

Sure, as a homebrew, I am biased.  I get a bigger kick out of trying a buddies homebrew than I do from tasting a super rare brew that cost an ungodly amount of currency.  But, since nearly every brewer’s vocation started in the kitchen it seems a worth tribute. To some extent, this has been done.  I know that Sierra Nevada collaborated with Charlie Papazian.  I thought it was a great idea, and even bought a bottle, enjoying it thoroughly.  I’m just waiting for a brewery to pay their respects to a little less household name.

What you think…good idea? Bad idea?  Home brewers…any great collaboration stories?  Am I the only one getting bored with all these big craft breweries getting together for collaborations?B