It is a confounding occurrence when people are genuinely humble and speak openly about their mistakes.  Sure, I like self-deprecating humor as much as anyone, but I don’t know that I’d always call it humble (or being humbled or posting that I’ve been humbled is more like it).  But life is full of humbling experiences.  Sometimes the humbling comes as a gentle corrective and other times it comes in form of an insidiously mortifying embarrassment.  I can drink to that.

The truly shocking aspect is that we share these experiences with anyone—that we fully reveal the “man (or woman) behind the curtain.”  Furthermore, there is redemption in that honesty because we learn from the mistakes and help other not to do the same or, more likely, share their gaffs with us as well.

A few instances remind me specifically of this reality.  Granted, these are not humblings of the mortifying variety, but they are expressions of how great openness about our experiences can offer a chastised view of our self-defined and “perfect” reality.  So, without further ado, let me share some brewing humilities I’ve read recently.

First, Jim from Beer and Whiskey brothers (well, Don really does it as well) have a great attitude of humility in that they allow themselves to show silly acts they’ve committed or brews that were too long delayed.  Perhaps a messed up bottling or a broken hydrometer (I’ve done this) or bad method in yeast propagation that are all shared on Cramped Space Brew are great examples.  I genuinely love reading stuff like this because I know what it’s like to fall down before I’m able to walk.  I know what it’s like to drive after an ice storm and get vodka for my hydrometer.  I also still know what it’s like to say something about beer related knowledge and not know the full story.

What about you?  Any silly brewing mistakes or embarrassing beer moments?  Trust me, I’ll be posting plenty in the future.

Nate’s post on guilty pleasure beers got me thinking about some of the beers, like Red Stripe, that are my guilty pleasure beers.  I considered putting Fat Tire by New Belgian as one of them.  But after hanging out with a friend tonight and putting nostalgia aside, Fat Tire is really a balanced and good beer.

Forget the measures of niche uniqueness and abstractions about it simply being an Amber Ale among Imperial Stouts. Seriously, the grain pop and session smoothness of it makes me want to write a brief post about the beer.  It also makes me curious about the point at which an Amber Ale became and implicit anathema among crafties (I’ve never heard the term so I’m coining it…at least in my mind).  To be honest, I can get on board with notion that the ubiquitous Amber Ales at the the seemingly endless brew pubs are mediocre or worse.  However, I can’t get hop on the conceptual train that writes off a whole category of beer.

It may be an inspired rant or it may seem like sentimental drivel, depending on your outlook, but why is solid beer getting such a bad name?  To be clear, I enjoy wasabi flavored ice cream with sushi mix-ins as much as the next person, but I sometimes long for the well made vanilla.

Am I crazy?  What do you think?  And I mean the rest of what I’ve said, not my mental status…perhaps that’s self-evident.

Living in Kansas City has it’s perks…for one, the craft beer scene is huge and more highly organized than it was when I lived in Toledo, and two, the city boasts the 16th largest craft brewery in the US:  Boulevard Brewing Company.  Last night (Tuesday, January 19th) the two melded for a fun night.

The ever hospitable and gracious Boulevard opened up their taproom and their taps to host a group of guys (the KC Gents).  Not only did Boulevard let us swig on their brew probono, they also provided some very amiable staff members to pour the beer, and they paid for our dinner:  Pizza from Waldo Pizza.  The gents all brought some awesome brews…there were samplings from Stone, to Dogfish Head, to 3 Floyds.  Boulevard even pulled out a couple of their Collaboration No. 1…one of my favorite beers of all time.  I could drink this beer every day and not tire of it.

I brought a limited release by Meantime…a Scotch Ale and home brew.  Unfortunately, I thought the Scotch Ale was thin and boring.  Fortunately, my homebrewed Sour Pale Ale seemed to be enjoyed by all.  One of the KC Gents, Adam, hooked us all up with these great looking engraved tasting glasses.

We were privileged to taste Boulevard’s Latest collaboration:  A chocolate ale Steven Pauwels brewed with Christopher Elbow, a local chocolate savant.  Not only did we get to try the yet unreleased beer from the bottle, we were allowed to taste some right out of the fermenter.   The beer is incredible…unlike the bombastic chocolate imperial stouts we are all used to, this reddish ale is is bursting with chocolate flavor.  To be honest, it reminded me of a chocolate covered cherry.  Steven Pauwels, Boulevard’s head brewer, actually spent the evening with us and hinted that the beer should be out just in times for Valentine’s day to help us guys…ughh…you catch my drift.  For more about the beer, check out KC Beer Blog.  Steven also gave me some invaluable advice for getting my obnoxiously stuck fermentation unstuck, and even sad if I wanted, the brewery would give me what I need to get the job done.

Honestly, this was one of the most fun I’ve ever had drinking brew with some like minded individuals, and my admiration and respect for Boulevard, their hospitality, and their great brews grows.

The key word to the title of this post is “out”.  Ironically, the drinking part isn’t the most scandalous.  I love to regularly drink a brew on Tuesday…really any day.  However, I am making a trek to LA tonight in order to support Randy and the release of his cookbook.  I’m looking forward to a few interesting brews and quite a few interesting conversations.

I know the many of you couldn’t make it to LA on a Tuesday (time and distance are funny like that), but please support this gentleman and buy his cookbook.  If you like “rooster sauce” and don’t own it…I can’t go on.  Here is where you can get it. If you are interested, here is the first post about the book.

Sometimes I feel like all this talk that rings of “I’m not beer snob, I’m just a beer geek, is a subtly constructed comfort lie meant to ease the conscience of the typical beer enthusiast.  Seriously…I felt like I had to explain myself recently when, while out with some beer geek friends I ordered a PILSNER a brewed by a CRAFT BREWER.  The surprised looks revealed the inner thought:

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Nate…a Pilsner?  We only drink heavily flavored and dark beers at this table….couldn’t you at least have found an Imperial Pilsner or Wheat Beer on the menu?

We try to pass ourselves off as nerds rather than the dreaded snob we associate with the wine culture, but if we were honest with ourselves, we hold the same type of notions, perhaps we are just a little jovial or dressed down about it.  You know, the wine snob might where a tuxedo while scoffing at the notion of somebody bringing Yellow Tail to a tasting, while we would scoff at somebody bringing Stella Artois to a tasting while wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt.

But hey is a little bit of snobbery a bad thing?

What I want to know is, what is your guilty pleasure?  (I’m talking about beer…I don’t want to hear that you have every Barbara Streisand album on you iPod).   Do you secretly stash a Mickey’s in the back of your fridge, or do you sneak away for a Leinenkugel’s Summer Shandy after having mowed the yard?

Go ahead, enter the Thank Heaven for Beer confessional…just don’t expect any pardon.  I’ll go first:

Against all beer geekery/snobbery, I occasionally will pick up a sixer of Michelob’s  Amber Bock.  Yes, I am aware that the demigods over at BeerAdvocate only gave it a “C” rating.  Yes, I am aware the the beer geek Satan–InBev/Anheuser-Busc–is the brains behind this brew.   But hear me out…First off, the flavor isn’t repulsive…in fact, it’s not that bad.  The beer tastes better to me than most because I can distinctly remember that this beer, Amber Bock, was the beer I drank on the night that my wife and I gave into our passions and conceived our first son Malachi.  No, we weren’t drunk.  The flavor is so engraved in my head, that at one sip and I am reminded of that evening.

So there you have it.

What’s your Guilty Beer Pleasure???

You gotta love The Onion.  Somehow their combination of absurdity, blatant falsehood, and disregard for the politically correct manages to make sense of life at times.  An article that they published back in March of 2010 recently made it to my desk and practically left me in stitches.

The story–Man On Internet Almost Falls Into World Of DIY Mustard Enthusiasts–is about a family man, Steve Gibson, who becomes gets drawn in to the online of world of mustard connoisseurs.  He soon finds himself hoarding craft and imported mustard, contemplating growing mustard in his backyard, posting brewing vinegar for his own mustard concoctions, writing mustard reviews on sites dedicated to mustard reviews, etc.

Please take the time to go The Onion to read the full article…you’ll be glad you did.  Here are a few excerpts:

Initially, Gibson’s family encouraged his new interest, saying they were pleased he had found something to do with his spare time and that he was cooking more in order to show off the mustards he made.

“I thought it was pretty neat at first,” said Gibson’s wife, Heather. “After a while, though, it seemed like every conversation we had was about something the people on his mustard website said. One night I woke up at 3 a.m. and found him bathed in the light of the computer screen, posting his latest mustard thoughts to the message boards.”

“I don’t know how I wound up at that point, but thank God I escaped when I did,” Gibson, 41, said Friday. “There I was, a grown man, planning a trip to the Mustard Museum in Wisconsin, when suddenly I heard a voice deep within me say, ‘This is not what you want your life to be about.’”

Added Gibson: “But then I walk away. I think about my family, remember that Dijon-slathering, watery-eyed zombie I nearly became, and I walk away.”

It seems pretty obvious that the article is a satire on the online world of craft beer enthusiasm.  Replace the word  mustard with beer, and I’ll bet you are instantly reminded of a few friends…perhaps even yourself.  I had to ask myself, is this really how beer geeks are perceived…as cockeyed lunatics who’s obsession dominates their lives, their thought processes, and their conversations?

Just a little food for thought.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go have an invigorating conversation with my wife concerning Beer Advocate member, crazycrazybeerdude‘s, idiotic review of Southern Tier’s Cuvee2.  I mean, the guy seriously picked up hints of sassafras…clearly there is no sassafras notes in the beer.  He should have picked up on the Cave Aged Swiss Gruyere.

The more we as a people  embrace postmodernism, the more aggressively we profess a disdain for rules and standards.  But deep inside, we know they can be beneficial and are meant for our own good.  They keep our roads flowing, our pockets less pick-pocketed, and our beer delicious.  That doesn’t mean that at times a rule or standard is above reproach and deserves questioning.

So when the Brewers Association emailed me with a press release that includes the 2011 Beer Style Guidelines, I took note.  After all, as Charlie Papazian, president of the Brewers Association and personal hero of this author, put it, these rules are meant to enhance beer and beer makers:

“These guidelines help to illustrate the growth of craft brewers in the United States and also offer insight and a foundation for helping appreciate the hundreds of beer types brewed for the beer lover,” said Charlie Papazian, president of the Brewers Association.

As a homebrewer and hopefully a future pro-brewer, these guidelines help me categorize my beer should I place a brew in a competition.  If I paid no heed to the rules, I might ignorantly enter a Hefeweizen into the Imperial Stout category.  That would be embarrassing, and perhaps career suicide.  And, as Papazian stated, knowing the fundamental building blocks and parameters of a beer enables a person to fine tune their palate and better appreciate a beer.

Unfortunately, though, the rules can be a bit overwhelming.  I mean, there are now 140 different defined styles, and many of these style over lap.  For example, if a beer is brewed within a certain ambiguous range of color, alcohol, bitterness, etc, it could easily be categorized as either a Imperial/Double IPA, or perhaps and American Style Barleywine.  This years new addition to the Beer Style Guidelines threw me for a bit of loop, and seemed to be the perfect opportunity for style overlap.  From the Guidelines (which can be downloaded here), the new addition, the American Style Brett Ale is:

American Brett ales can be very light to black or take on the color of added fruits or other ingredients.  Wood- and barrel- aged sour ales are classified elsewhere. Light to moderate and/or fruity and contributed by the Brettanomyces yeast. The evolution of natural acidity develops balanced complexity. Horsey, goaty, leathery, phenolic and light to moderate and/or fruity acidic character evolved from Brettanomyces organisms may be evident, yet in balance with other character. Acidity may also be contributed to by
bacteria, but may or may not dominate. Residual flavors that come from liquids previously aged in a barrel such as bourbon or sherry should not be present. Wood vessels may be used during the fermentation and aging process, but wood-derived flavors such as vanillin must not be present. In darker versions, roasted malt, caramel-like and chocolate-like characters should be subtle in both flavor and aroma. American Brett ales may have evident full range of hop aroma and hop bitterness with a full range of body. Estery and fruity-ester characters are evident, sometimes moderate and sometimes intense, yet balanced. Diacetyl and sweet cornlike dimethylsulfide (DMS) should not be perceived. Chill haze, bacteria and yeast-induced haze are allowable at low to medium levels at any temperature. Fruited American-Style Brett Ales will exhibit fruit flavors in harmonious balance with other characters. Original Gravity (ºPlato) Varies with style ● Apparent Extract/Final Gravity (ºPlato) Varies with style ● Alcohol by Weight
(Volume) Varies with style ● Bitterness (IBU) Varies with style ● Color SRM (EBC) Varies with style

Sounds delicious.  In fact, brett style beers are my absolute favorite.  I’m one of those fanatics who thinks brettanomyces would make a nice addition to just about any beer.  I’ve brewed with it and I’ve cultured it from other some big name breweries.   BUT…is this new category too broad?  Is it necessary?

I mean, according to this criterion, were Orval brewed in the Rockies instead of in a monastery in Belgium, would it be an American Style Brett?  And sheesh…aren’t ALL of Jolly Pumkin’s magnificent creation now subject to another classification.

When all is said and done, it really isn’t a big deal.  In fact, despite the tone of this article, it really doesn’t bother me.  I love the Brewers Association, and I love the fact that they care so much about beer so as to make it more understandable and enjoyable.  I guess, were I a member of the board, I don’t believe I would have thrown an AYE in the basket for this one and would caution against over-classification.  Besides, don’t we all love and cherish a certain amount of raw ambiguity?  I know I do…in fact, perhaps my favorite style might just be “Specialty Beer.”

So I admit that the title is a tad lengthy, but the book, like the delicious chili sauce, is just right.  Fifty recipes that utilize something so complexly spicy, tangy, and (you guessed it) fermentedly magical seems very much apropos.  It is no easy feat to create an arsenal of recipes that use such a pronounced, yet some how subtle when well-used, flavor.

Back in my college days I used Sriracha on my microwaveable Pho Bo because I simply could not settle for store bought Ramen noodles.  Sometimes, I could even being caught putting a drop or two on an empty finger and savoring that pungent taste. “Rooster Sauce” would go on any number of bland foods that my very much typical college cafeteria served with a lack of discrimination.  It would make any vapid plate pop with a world of possibilities.

Now that I am out of college and enjoying having a kitchen to cook in, I am using Sriracha to make my own Pad Thai sauces and incorporating it into a number of recipes.  However, my ideas have been fairly limited.  Luckily, I know where to get more that will spark the same college nostalgia I experienced back.  Albeit, my tastes and love of food have developed in the interim.

Randy’s book will spark that same imagination and nostalgia for you while you move forward into new and fresh culinary delights that are, well, just right.  Please go to Amazon and purchase this book and head over to Randy’s blog (look who’s on the blog roll).  And tell your friends, tweet it, Facebook it, and whatever you do, buy it.

A couple recent posts from Nate have dealt with the nature of consistency in brewing.  The first article addressed the need for consistency in the brewing process if one is to become a good brewery.  More recently, another post stressed how inconsistency can make for a better beer experience.

Both articles make great points, and I wouldn’t want to detract from the fundamentals of what Nate is expressing.  However, there is a certain type of inconsistency that I find intriguing. The type of of inconsistency that is on my mind is the type that comes from serial re-pitching.  Actually, I think “inconsistency” isn’t a particularly just term for describing this practice.  In fact, I would call it continual development.

Yeast is a living organism.  In a sense, it has a mind of its own and responds differently to different situations.  I could, for instance, have the exact same yeast strain pitched at the same gravity of a brew with the same temperature and get a slightly different brew.  Volumes of wort (and hydrostatic pressure from that) can have an effect on the yeast as well. However, let’s not forget that yeast is living.  It’s one thing to get yeast from a yeast bank and pitch it, in a sense, tabula rasa.  Yet, it’s quite another when you use that same yeast time and again.

Remember, the unique and pure strains that we use today are the results of serial re-pitching.  They developed and evolved over time.  This is not simply a historical phenomenon.  For instance, Chico Ale yeast is used as a basic ale yeast in many places across the U.S. to develop a house strain/character.  Why?  The conditions and type of brew-houses are different enough that the strain takes on its own type of meaning within a different context.

So, philosophically speaking, consistency can be inhibitive to evolution and revolution.  Consistency can be really good, but it can also be a bit uninteresting.

Ahhh the library…shrine of knowledge and source of free erudition whether it be in book or video form.  A few nights ago my lovely wife checked out “The American Brew” from our local library.  I have come to discover that not all books and films/videos are created equally.  In fact, like a few ill made beers I’ve tried, I’ve found myself unable to finish a few.  American Brew, in my opinion, was not only finish-worthy, but a great all around fifty minute representation of the history of beer in America.  The film subtly makes the case that America would not be the America we know and love today had it not been for our buddy, brewski.  In fact, the Denver Post sums up the ethos of the film quite well:

“To understand America, one must know beer, not baseball. The American Beer explains with wit and insight our infatuation with beer and its infinite variety.”

Sorry baseball fans.

The film was balanced.  Now, an overenthusiastic beer geek may not find the film as balanced as I did, as the film does not focus on the craft beer industry; though it does explore and aggrandize the movement, both at the stylistic level, and industry (i.e. disintegration of monopoly) level.  The film rather explores the history of beer from Christopher Columbus, to the Thomas Jefferson, to Adolfus Busch, to Fritz Maytag, to Garret Oliver.  The producer/director–Roger Sherman–is not a one trick pony. The fact that his portfolio contains films on Divorce and the environment and not just beer speaks volumes for the integrity of The American Brew.

I have often felt that the craft beer community at times unfairly regards lagers/pilsners much the way early Salem regarded the black arts.  That is; they treat it as a blight on the overall beer population that need not be associated with.  I get it.  Some big brewers use too much corn in their lagers.  However, Sherman fairly shows that German immigrants did not bring cheap fizzy yellow beer into the US, rather, they brought a rich brewing history, and a more difficult method for brewing.  In the same breath, Sherman is fair and also reveals that many of the establishments that brought the lager to the US also brought an insatiable desire for market control.

Sherman’s treatment of the Prohibition is both historically accurate, and amusing, as he slyly reveals the plebeian nature intrinsic to American/human political pandering.  He demonstrates that the temperance movement was made to be a polarizing and singular issue:  Americans disregarded EVERY other issue of a political candidates platform and focused ONLY on whether they supported tolerance.  I can’t disagree with the documentary’s supposition that this idea exists today.  Sherman shows us that prior to prohibition there was a raucous public outcry to banish beer and all other alcoholic beverages…just 14 years later the same America was filled with a raucous public outcry to legalize beer and all other alcoholic beverages.

The film explores many other beer avenues worthy of your exploration, and I would hate to spoil it, so please, rent the documentary and let us know what you think!