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Archive for May, 2011

The name alone proves this beer is Rapture-Ready, or at least ready for the rest of us:

Basic Info:
Name:
La Fin du Monde
Origin: Unibroue, Quebec, Canadialand
Style: Belgian Tripel
ABV: 9.0%
IBU: haven’t seen it – admittedly I’ve been spending more time looking for updates on the Rapture than looking for IBU info. At any rate, it’s a Tripel, so hops aren’t the star here.
I drank this: bottle pour

While you wait to be Raptured (or Left Behind with me), this is the best of all possible beers you could drink: it has the right name, and it’s a perfect beer for the season. 

La Fin du Monde is Unibroue’s Belgian Tripel. It’s a hazy golden color with a white head and lots of lacing down the glass.

It smells like a fruit basket. Seriously, there are fruits everywhere, of all kinds. Bananas and peaches predominate, but there are traces of pear and grape and lemon, with hits of clove running throughout.

This beer has a fairly thick body with a great carbonation level – the combination makes it feel deceptively light on the tongue. The alcohol is well-hidden – it’s one of those beers that, if I didn’t know the style or ABV, I would guess to be around 6% rather than 9%. The flavor is amazing – it’s more fruit basket, heavy on the bananas, pears, lemons and peaches. There’s a hint of honey. The yeasty flavor is strong enough to be noticeable, but it’s complex enough to be more than just a typical Belgian funk – the funk is light, the clove is heavy. Good, good stuff. There’s a nice hint of hops as well, adding a run of lemony-grapefruity-grassy citrus which nips at the tongue.

This really is a fantastic beer – for my money, this is the best of Unibroue’s line. It’s a perfect tripel: deceptively light and easy to drink, packed with a huge array of honeyed fruity flavors, touches of light malt and hints of yeast and hops. It’s, like, it’s symphonic.

So everyone, should this indeed be the beginning of the end of days, rush out to your local liquor store and grab yourself a bottle of today’s most appropriately-named beer. On the other hand, should the apocalypse decide to hold off until 12/21/2012, look for Steven’s Point 2012 Black Ale instead. Frankly, a black ale would be more winter-appropriate anyway.

(Obviously I stole the picture up top from an0ther website, but honestly, how could you not?)

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Normally I wouldn’t touch a stout this time of year, but it’s been stupidcold for May and I’ve been drinking like it’s fall again. So here is an absolutely out-of-season but still excellent beer:

That’s Tony making burgers in the background. Er, actually, here he’s chopping potatoes for oven fries and hamming it up at my request. The burgers happened later.

Basic Info:
Name:
8-Ball Stout
Origin: Lost Coast Brewery, Eureka, CA
Style: Oatmeal Stout
ABV: 6.3%
IBU: not listed that I’ve seen
I drank this: bottle pour while waiting for dinner

So this lovely beer really deserves some cool, misty weather, because it’s warming and happy but not so warming that one beer will send me into spins. It’s a lovely dark brown color and a complementary dark chocolate and roasted malt nose. A little toasty as well.

The first thing I noticed when I had this beer was the hop note, which surprised me. It’s a nice hop, not too bright, but definitely there in piney glory. It’s followed immediately by straight up Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. Not Godiva, not Nestle, not chocolate chip form, not bar form, but Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. After that, there’s some roasted malt and a hint of alcohol. There is absolutely no coffee anywhere in this that I could taste – that was a surprise.

The mouthfeel is really syrupy and thick – moreso than I would have expected for a non-Imperial Stout – and has just a touch of bite from the hops.

Overall, this was a good beer. It’s near-inexpressibly weird to drink a beer like this in May, however – it kept putting me in the mood of turtlenecks and charcoal gray nail polish and apple cider. At the same time, the last thing I wanted on a day when it was 48 degrees and misting was a Saison, so it worked out. Hopefully the weather out here in the flat states will go back to *cough* normal *cough* SOME DAY.

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So, if you, like me, are lucky enough to live in Kansas or Oklahoma *and* near an Old Chicago, you too can have a super-special Tallgrass beer. As in “brewed only for the places I mentioned for the sake of American Craft Beer Week which you should be celebrating whether or not you can have this particular Belgian-style Tripel.”

Drink up, folks: it’s a patriotic duty to do so this week. :D

Basic Info:
Name:
Velvet Rooster*
Origin: Tallgrass Brewery, Manhattan, KS
Style: Belgian Tripel
ABV: 8.5%
IBU: nope. Not really. Like, there are totally hops here, but I don’t have a number and it isn’t a hugely hoppy beer. I’d put it at the “around 20 or so” mark.
I drank this: on tap at Old Chicago, Overland Park, KS, during their Craft Beer Mini Tour Kickoff Party

I didn’t take a picture because I was too busy enjoying the beer and talking to cousins and eating pizza. Anyway, it *looks* like a Belgian Tripel (by which I mean it’s a soft, hazy straw color). However, this beer is the funkiest Tripel I’ve ever had: there’s a distinct funk in the scent and a distinct funk in the flavor. It’s like a cross between a Tripel and a Saison: the honey-and-flowers flavor of the Tripel next to the horsebarn flavor of the Saison. So, it’s a Spring/Summer Tripel.

Scent-wise, the funk is combined with banana and a touch of something that I decided smelled like brown sugar, even if I’m not overly convinced that brown sugar has much of a smell. Flavor-wise, there’s a sharp hop bite right at the beginning, followed by pale malts, honey, banana, and a combination of white and yellow floral notes. And funk. It’s got a gorgeously smooth body and only a touch of alcohol flavor. It was one of those beers that was easy to drink and deceptively high in alcohol – I happily sipped my way through it, stood up and thought “Oh. Right. Tripel. Oops.” And then sat back down.

Overall, this was intriguing in part because the beer was good and in part because I think the universe is conspiring to turn me into a drinker of Farmhouse Ales. (Why is there funk in everything I drink lately? It’s not like I’m trying to find this flavor!) Anyway, good stuff. If you’re  nearby and able to get ahold of one, definitely do it: this isn’t one of those beers that everyone’s going to get to try, so grab it while you can.

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*It took me until the end of the review to figure out that Velvet Rooster is a good name for the beer because a) it is smooth enough to qualify as velvety in mouthfeel and b) rooster = fair warning of farmhouse barnyard yeastfunk. I feel like had I been thinking about it, I would have felt forewarned about the funk level.

When I saw the name of the beer at the bar, the first thing that came to mind was a painting of a velvet rooster – like a Velvet Elvis, only a rooster instead of Elvis.**

**I kind of feel like all Velvet Elvises should be of fat, drug-addled Elvis rather than thin, oddly-hot Elvis.

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Or for those who aren’t, you know, all linked into the beer scene online or in the real world:

This upcoming week, May 16-22, is American Craft Beer Week. Look around to see what’s going on in your area, take advantage of specials, and drink some very, very good beer.

I gather, for the other twitterers out there, that there will be attempts to trend #craftbeer. So, you know, help out with that.

Me, I’ll be doing a beer post every day. :D

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For those of you not familiar with Free State, I should point out that it has the best of all possible mottos on its glassware/shirts (which are omnipresent in Lawrence – every Lawrencian has at least one (if not more) in varying states of disrepair from being loved to death). I’ve tried to capture it on the pint glass:

Basic Info:
Name:
Bumper Crop Saison
Origin: Free State Brewery, Lawrence, KS
Style: Belgian Saison/Farmhouse Ale
ABV: 7%
IBU: 12
I drank this: on tap at the brewery alongside their insanely good tuna sandwich* (very good pairing – locals should try it)

I’m not really big on Saisons as a whole - the Saisons are all funky and I am just not down with that yet.** I’m working on it, and am starting to find them less repulsively horse barn-like than I used to. That said, I did like this beer much more than I was expecting to. Maybe I’m learning the funk, or maybe Free State didn’t overfunk it.

In any case, Free State threw all kinds of stuff into this lovely little beer. There’s rosehip, lemon peel, black peppercorn, and then the bananaclove flavors of the yeast. The combination smells kind of like a dirty summer perfume: herbal and dirty and slightly floral.

The flavor is layered and complex in a light-bodied, refreshing beer. There’s a touch of honey, lots of herbs (lemon thyme came prominently to mind), a definite sort of lemony hop touch, pale malts, grass, and finally the dirty, earthen flavors demanded of the style. If rolled around the tongue for a while, a sharp sort of piney flavor will develop – the combination makes it feel like standing outdoors on a Summer’s day.

I don’t know that this is the most textbook of Saisons, but it’s really drinkable, especially on a disgustingly humid day. Given the Saison was first brewed in Autumn to be ready the following Summer for the fieldworkers, refreshing is probably the best thing it can be. I enjoyed this quite a bit – I’d encourage everyone else to try it, even if they, like me, don’t particularly want horsebarn beer. This was good stuff.

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*The Savona Tuna Salad Sandwich. It’s. AMAZING. Tuna, cannelini, lots of herbs, olive oil dressing with lemon or something. Nice, light, perfect. ADORE.
**”Funk” is not a term I’m making up here - it’s the term often used to describe the sort of dirtyweird earthen flavor that Belgians – Farmhouse Ales in particular – often have. There’s a particular strain of wild yeast that imparts the flavor most strongly. It tends to pop up in Saisons, Farmhouse Ales and Sour Ales, so if you’re not a fan of the funk, stay away from those styles. Or do as I’m doing and start going after them at every given opportunity in an attempt to figure out what all the fuss is about.

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Pink flower beer, people!

This is the weirdest beer I have ever had, ever. Also: if you don’t search some out for yourself and try it, you are doing yourself a grave disservice. This stuff is DELICIOUS.

Basic Info:
Name:
Dieu du Ciel! Rosée d’Hibiscus*
Origin: Brasserie Dieu du Ciel (translation: God in Heaven), Montréal, Quebec, Canadialand
Style: wheat beer with hibiscus added, or pink flower beer 
ABV: 5.0%
IBU: not listed, but low
I drank this: bottle pour at the Beer Kitchen, Westport, Kansas City, MO

I do not know on what planet the idea for this beer was concocted, but I’m happy it was. I saw this on the menu at the Beer Kitchen (people, go eat there, seriously) and about died from the weirdness of it, but didn’t order it because I was in the mood for overwhelming hop bombs. Then we returned to the Beer Kitchen yesterday, fresh-in-town friend in tow, and I nabbed one.

I’m going to be searching out a 6pack of this stuff ASAP, let me tell you.

You can see the color – it’s actually a shade pinker than it appears in the picture, but it’s very definitely a sort of cloudy almost salmon-like pink. Scent-wise, it has a definite sort of tropical hibiscus scent with hints of pineapple and passionfruit, some citrus, and a sort of sour wheat background.

The flavor is FASCINATING, in the “lose track of one’s surroundings” type way. It’s light and bright and slightly pink-flavored, with a bright citrus, something that’s almost cherry, something tart like raspberry, and then the usual Belgian Wit flavors of orange peel and coriander and wheat. There’s something about it that actually screamed pink lemonade at me, with all the attendant “yay for Summer!” type feelings. It’s not sweet like pink lemonade, though – it really is bright and tart. 

Basically, this beer is fabulous and positively cheerful. I’m for seriously in heart with it. Dieu du Ciel! hasn’t disappointed me yet.

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*The name Rosée d’Hibiscus comes from the wine world, where rosés are often referred to as Rosé of *insert grape here*, like the flipping amazing Rosé of Malbec we tried at work a couple of weeks ago. As far as I can tell, the only rosé wines that don’t follow this sort of naming scheme are White Zinfandels and White Merlots, and, well, those have a million other issues as well.

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Stone Ruination IPA

So-named because it is so bitter it will ruin your palate. I can attest to this: one sip of Stone Ruination made the pizza sauce taste like raisin paste. Seriously, people, raisin paste. I suggest, then, that you do what I did and order this beer for dessert. Do not, repeat, DO NOT DRINK THIS WITH FOOD.

It looks so innocuous, doesn’t it? Lovely color, excellent lacing:

Don’t trust it. This beer is not that innocent.

Basic Info:
Name:
Ruination IPA
Origin: Stone Brewing Co., Escondido, CA
Style: American Imperial/Double IPA
ABV: 7.7%
IBU: 100+*
I drank this: on tap at Waldo Pizza, KCMO

This beer, like I said, is aptly named. I cannot stress that enough.

The scent is amazing: it’s orange, grapefruit, and bergamot.** The scent is also inescapable if someone at the table has ordered this beer – I could actually smell it before the waiter even managed to get it on the table. It’s just. That. Strong.

Flavor-wise, it’s bitter orange, bergamot, and white or yellow grapefruit (I flipped back and forth on that for a while – I tend to lean more toward white than yellow, but you know. It’s not like there’s too big a difference). The bergamot note is my favorite – it’s strong, and I’ve never encountered anything quite like it outside of a cup of green Earl Grey tea. The flavor is clean and sharp and bright and slightly astringent without getting resinous.

There’s no malt flavor at all. Like, nothing. Really. Nothing at all. No sweetness, no caramel, no biscuit, nothing. Obviously this isn’t true: I mean, the beer isn’t just strained hop juice (which would never have enough sugar to ferment), but I can’t taste the malt. Or I should rephrase that to I cannot taste ANYTHING AT ALL. Except hops. With most beers, this would be a fault, because hops without a malty backbone tend to be watery, thin and blerk.*** The hops in a pint of Ruination are in the middle of a raucous party – they’re having far too much fun to bother with watery.

Upshot: this beer is dangerously unbalanced, but it’s excellent anyway.

I’d call this beer lovely except that it’d mock me for it (seriously – if ever a beer were capable of mocking someone, this would be that beer). It’s far too aggressive to be called anything so simpering as “lovely.” At the same time, “lovely” *did* pop into mind, so I’m posting it. I blame the bergamot.

Can I say again how excited I am that Stone is in town? [insert moment of bliss here]

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*For those of you who don’t know what this means, I scribbled it out for you here. To sum up, if you don’t like hops, run away from this beer as fast as your footsies will carry you.

**Bergamot (you probably know this) flavors Earl Grey Tea. It’s a type of orange.

***”Blerk” means exactly what it sounds like it means when said out loud.

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IBU* stands for “International Bitterness Units” and is a way to measure how bitter/hoppy a beer is. What it measures, specifically, is the amount of alpha acid in the beer left by the hops. This way of measuring is problematic, because it’s relative.

Example time!
Take an IBU level of, say, 75. A Bear Republic Racer 5, which is a superhoppy beer, is roughly a 75, which means that 75 should be indicative of major hopping…except that a North Coast Old Rasputin, which is a supermassive malt bomb of a beer with very little noticeable bitterness whatsoever, is *also* a 75. The comparison makes the IBU level seem like a worthless measurement.

It’s not worthless, though – it’s actually helpful if you know what you’re dealing with. What helps me gauge how hoppy/bitter a beer will taste is a combination of the IBU and the color of the malt (which, in turn, can be judged by the color of the finished beer). If the malts are light in color, the hops tend to show their stuff more strongly. Super-dark malts tend to have stronger flavors which, in turn, mask some of the bitterness from the hops. consequently, a higher IBU level won’t taste quite as bitter in a dark beer as it will in a lighter beer.

That said, an IBU level over 100 hits a level so high that the human tongue isn’t particularly good at judging relative bitterness, and anything bragging about 100+IBUs is going to be the type of hop bomb capable of destroying your ability to taste anything else. Hopheads, enjoy. Anyone else, run the other direction. Whether or not you scream while doing so is at your discretion.

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*I had this written up as a ridiculously long (even by my standards) footnote to another post. Once I got to thinking about it, however, I decided to give it its own post for the sake of easy referencing. So, for those of you who don’t know, here’s what one of those numbers what shows up on your labels/on the boards at breweries/on beer websites is trying to tell you.

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Yay – a new grape! I’d never had a Monastrell (or any of its other names – it has a lot). So, fun awaits. Here’s the of course blurry bottle photo:

Region: Yecla, Spain (a small wine-growing region in Southeastern Spain)
Grapes involved: Monastrell
Cost: $12.00 or so
Food pairings: I’d say something meaty and strong – this is a pretty hefty wine, so it could stand up to a lot.

This was a really dark wine – not quite as black as it looks in the photo, but dark. I poured it after work a few nights ago and let it aerate while I puttered around looking for a snack.

After it’d hung out for about 15 minutes in the glass, getting the occasional swirl, I gave it a go (the feet smell had gone away, so I figured we were good). The nose of the wine is sour cherries with hints of earth, cherries, a touch of leather, a hint of darker fruit, like currant, and cherries. Sour cherries. And some spice.

Did I mention cherries? Bright sour red cherries.

Flavor-wise, it’s cherries (surprise!) – definitely red sour spicy warm cherries, rather than sweet cherries or black cherries or anything else. There is also a layer of orange – not quite all the way to tangerine, but orange nonetheless. Hints of leather and smoke and sage run through it, and I got a definite impression of hot, parched earth – like almost a visual picture of land that was cracked from lack of rain on a hot summer day. The impression of heat sent me to the label to check out the alcohol content, but it’s only 13.8% – I was guessing it’d be another percentage point higher.

The finish got really interesting – it lingered and turned to blackberry. Fascinating. It got rather tea-like – specifically Republic of Tea’s Blackberry Sage Black Tea, if anyone has tried that. The odd thing was that I really got that flavor only after swallowing – while I was rolling it around on my tongue, it was much more clearly cherry.

This wine had a super-firm tannin structure, almost mouth-puckering. I think it was fairly full-bodied, although I’m still sorting through how I’m determining that. It felt heavier than a Pinot Noir, for example.

So that’s the fun wine of the day. If you see a bottle, grab one – it’s interesting. I enjoyed playing with it.

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The internet tells me, albeit with some confusion, that Monastrell is the same grape as Mourvèdre, which is to say that it’s a thick-skinned grape (which I think means there’s a higher tannin level – at least, this seems logical to me). If you’ve ever heard of a French appellation of wine called Chateauneuf-du-Pape, this is one of the main grapes used.

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