557. Cigar City Cucumber Saison

So the De Ranke was our opening salvo in an evening of indulgence. Next up: Cigar City’s Cucumber Saison. We’ve seen Cigar City before—often provided by Jeff Fortney—and this evening was no exception. This is our fourth reported beer from Cigar City (plus a visit to the brewery!), including Marrón Acidifié (the collaboration with the Bruery), Guava Grove, and José Martí American Porter. All in all, fine, fine beers. Like this one.

Cucumber Saison pours a pale hazy straw with a thin white head; the nose is—as one would both hope and expect with a beer carrying this name—cucumber front and center. As the beer opens up, it moves from fresh-cut cucumber towards pickle, although it never quite gets fully there. The skin character of the cucumber aroma continues to grow as the beer warms. Flavors open with a soft dough-y sweetness that gives way quickly to the cucumber along with an almost vegetable peppery spiciness. The cucumber continues throughout, with flavors moving towards pickle—like in the nose. There is a slight touch of bitterness in the finish, but it is restrained, allowing the cucumber to remain the dominant flavor. The mouthfeel is chewy but the body is well attenuated, creating a bright, clean, crisp and refreshing beer. I can see how many would balk at the idea of this beer, but, well, those people are wrong. Dead wrong. This beer is awesome, and would go fantastically with food—grilled summer food, specifically. Here’s to Cigar City for pushing the envelope on craft beer in interesting and productive ways. Kudos to Wayne and company. 

From the bottle: “The humble gherkin. Usually we encounter this unassuming green fruit pickled or sliced and flung atop a salad. But the cucumber has so much more to offer us. It is a remarkably refreshing gourd with the power to cool a dry tongue and when just two sliced wheels are placed atop the eyes of a lounging lass in a stock ad for the spa the mystical cucumber has the magical ability to justify obscene spa service fees. Truly an amazing botanical gift to the world! We chose to employ the cucumber in a low gravity Saison to create a refreshing seasonal ale redolent with notes of honey, tropical fruit, lemon bitterness and of course cucumber. Brewed as a survival tool for the Florida Summer, this cucumber creation features Citra and Sorachi Ace hops. So put some cucumber wheels on your eyes, lean back, relax and enjoy. Ahhhhhh.”

ABV: 6.0%

(2/13/2012)

553. Swamp Head Batch 300 Tripel

I warned you. After all, how long did you think I could continue to sit on this liquid gold? While we’re saving the Swamp Head/Cigar City Roosevelt American Barley Wine we also picked up for later (I know—what a tease, right?), this is tonight’s lucky victim. It is not our first beer from Swamp Head Brewing, but it is the first we’ve condescended to write about. How’s that for pompous irreverence?

Batch 300 pours a slightly hazy gold with a profuse white rocky head; the nose is a mix of spicy phenolic yeast and fruit, specifically banana, along with a fair amount of doughy wheat and Belgian candy. Jeff calls it a dull perfume, which I think is an apt description—it is both perfume-y and spritzy in the nose. Flavors start with a slightly spicy wheat and Belgian candy that has a touch of gumminess; at the start, there was a fair amount of bubblegum yeast flavor, but it quickly bled off. The middle is creamy with a slight chewiness, and the finish is dry with a bitter tang. The bright carbonation makes the beer dance on the tongue, and helps foreground the delicate aromatics. At the same time, the creamy, rounded flavors, sit pleasantly on the tongue. The intangibles are off the chart—malt character, yeast character, Belgian character—and all work to delicate and delicious effect. My only real critique is that the body could be a bit drier to better fit classic examples of the style, but it is certainly drier and cleaner than most of the other American tripels we’ve tried. But besides a bit more attenuation, this is a well-made and enjoyable beer—solid within the style, and also elicious in its own right. I knew I should have bought a second bottle so I could have more of it later.

ABV: 7.0%

(12/16/2012)

Swamp Head Brewery

After the speed visit to Cigar City, we got to hang in Gainesville for several days and relish all that it had to offer. And this included sampling the the wares of new addition to town Swamp Head Brewery. Sure, Swamp Head was around prior to our arrival, but it wasn’t here the last time we were in town (when I convinced a certain someone to abandon Gainesville for Dayton), so we’re treating it as brand spanking new. Historical revisionism is always like this: arbitrary and subjective. Plus, since I miss Gainesville, I get to be nostalgic and no one can make fun of me.

Our first taste of Swamp Head actually came when we were out on the town; we had the Big Nose IPA on tap a couple of times prior to our visit to the brewery itself. And since their saison has gained some online traction, I was excited to sample it, since I hadn’t seen it during our earlier perambulations. Sadly, that dream was not to be fulfilled, for while they had recently brewed the Saison du Swamp, it wasn’t yet on tap at the Wetlands, their tasting room. Trust me, I asked. And snooped around, as later pictures will attest. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Elli and I met Anne, Elli’s sister, at the brewery for a drink or two. The taproom is narrow and deep, and there are several small tables located next to the brewery that are located by open roll-up doors. Thus we went for the almost outside seating. One nice thing about Florida in the winter: outdoor seating is pleasant and enjoyable. Take that crappy Ohio winters! I went for Cottonmouth, their Belgian wheat beer, while Elli went for Stump Knocker, their APA. I think Anne went for the Big Nose, but I’m not certain; you can look at the picture and try and sort out the colors. We all ended up passing around and tasting all of them anyway, so not like it makes much of a difference. All were good; the Cottonmouth still tasted a little too much like an American Wheat to me—the Belgian yeast wasn’t doing enough to cover over the wheat gumminess. But I persevered and finished it. Can you taste the dedication?

We also got to walk around the corner and look at the brewing equipment. A lot of pretty copper. They also has a small enclosed room that contained several barrels and a couple of kegs—I know, since the room had a nice glass window I could take a picture through. If you are reading this, you’re already probably something of a beer voyeur, so don’t look askance at me. I visit breweries to examine how things are set up and organized—what’s your excuse? The beer? Please. After we finished our first round, we grabbed a pint of their Midnight Oil to sample, and I bought a 750 ml bottle of Batch 300, their Belgian Tripel, to take home with me. Don’t worry, you’ll hear about it soon enough. The coffee stout was roasty and clean; the coffee had none of that artificial coffee flavor you find in many beers, which was a distinct pleasure.

I also took the opportunity to visit the restroom, which since it was located back in the brewery, meant I took small license in poking about on the way. It was during this excursion that I found several firkins of Saison du Swamp with various Brettanomyces strains listed in blue painter’s tape. I also got caught by Dan Wade, one of the brewers, taking pictures of those said firkins, which led to a quick albeit very pleasant conversation, during which I found out that I would not be getting any of the Saison du Swamp during this visit to Gainesville. The horror! At least I got it straight from his mouth. And this also gives us a reason—not that we actually need one—to return to Gainesville in the near future. I want to hang out more at the Wetlands!  

(1/8/2013)

Cigar City Brewing

Travelling leads to opportunity. Sometimes, however, that opportunity can only be slightly indulged; that, my friends, is today’s lesson. Today’s trip was from Bonita Springs to Gainesville; along the way, we decided to stop at Cigar City for a quick dose of whatever they had to offer. Like they could let us down.

Since there was more driving ahead of us, we went for a couple of the samplers. The first one was all lighter hoppy beers: Invasion Pale Ale, Itsa Pale Ale, Stine’s Hoppy Wheat, and Mosiac IPA. Of the four, Itsa Pale Ale really stood out for the combination of malt and hop flavor; the others were good, but nothing revolutionary on our palates. The Mosiac IPA was less exciting than we expected—the Nugget parentage seemed more prominent than the Simcoe, which was the inverse of most descriptions.

Our second sampler had less vision: it was a mish-mash of beers we wanted to try, and included Tony Jannus Pale Ale, White Oak Jai Alai, Neal’s Black Saison, and Kalevipoeg Baltic Porter. The White Oak Jai Alai was mainly to get some more, since it is so delicious and we have so few opportunities to drink it, while the Tony Jannus was to round out tasting all the hopy beers. I chose Neal’s Black Saison (big surprise, I know) and Elli picked Kalevipoeg Baltic Porter. The fruity yeast character and the dark malt clashed in the saison—it needed better balance and to choose a direction rather that trying to do everything. The baltic porter was good, but needed a cleaner, more lager-like finish. Still, all were enjoyable.

On the way out the door, we grabbed a couple of 750s and a growler of the Itsa Pale Ale to take with us, and headed for Gainesville. All told, we were at Cigar City for a little under an hour. While more time would have been nice, there is always next time. Plus, good times were waiting in Gainesville.

(1/4/2013)

524. The Bruery and Cigar City Marrón Acidifié

sour faces speak

oaked fruit babbles on the tongue

silent malt below

The above is Jeffrey’s haiku for this beer, which is something we’ve been sitting on for a while so that it had a chance to mature in the bottle. My love of the Bruery is well-documented, so I won’t bore you all with the details. I’m like the Matt Strickland of the Midwest. If you’re desperate to read more, I’m pretty certain you’re all clever enough to navigate the site and find the other eight beers. If not, then the terrorists have already won.

Marrón Acidifié pours a dark Belgian candy brown with plenty of orange and cinnamon colors, and has the creamy tan head that hangs around longer than I anticipated it would. And the nose—that came pouring out of the bottle before the beer even hit the glass, and set my mouth to watering immediately. Vinegar sour and sharp tartness. Both were upfront and almost aggressive, but at the same time rounded with a pleasant depth and complexity, with red wine and dark fruit notes pushing through in the back. As the beer warmed, aromas both brightened and lightened, and a touch of malt sweetness emerged. The puckering began with the first sip: a bright lactic bite before moving into the acetic vinegar sourness of the middle. Along with the lactic zing in the front, there was Belgian candy and dark fruit coupled with some light malt doughiness, while the middle had both sweet and sour playing together at the same time (and playing well, might I add). Fruit returned in the finish—fig and plum, mainly—along with a tannic bite from the oak, ending with a sour tartness featuring a residual tang that left an impression of malt and bread crust/toast. There was also a slight chalky/mineral flavor via the sourness in the end that created a perception of grittiness on the tongue, although there was no real substance to it. The body is medium, lightened by both the tartness and vinegar sourness, making the beer bright on the tongue and clean on the palate, even with the only moderate, creamy carbonation. Certainly, a fantastic beer—I had small circles of sweat on my cheeks almost from the first sip, and the beer settled and opened quite pleasantly as it warmed. Even the dregs from the bottom of the bottle were delicious—oaky and tannic with chewy malt and balsamic vinegar. Oh, and here’s my haiku:

rush of sour, then sweet

biting with fruit and dark oak

rosettes bloom on cheeks

From the bottle: “For our first collaboration beer we are lucky to partner with a brewery a country apart, but on a similar path, Cigar City Brewing out of Tampa, Florida. Marrón Acidifié is suitable for aging up to five years when cellared properly.”

From the Bruery website: “Marrón Acidifié: Imperial Oud Bruin. For our first collaboration beer we are lucky to partner with a brewery a country apart, but on a similar path, Cigar City Brewing out of Tampa, Florida. Geographically a country apart but following similar paths, we felt an immediate connection with Joey, Wayne and the crew. We’re both young breweries, founded and staffed by homebrewers, whose use interesting ingredients and techniques to make unique, full-flavored beers. A recipe was created over pints at Falling Rock Tap House during GABF 2009 and Wayne came out to help brew shortly after. Over a year in barrels has left this dark sour layered with notes of cranberry, tropical fruits, leather and aged balsamic vinegar, balanced with wood tannins and roasted malt. Raise a glass and toast to the success of fledgling breweries across this great nation!”

ABV: 8.5%

IBU: 15

We also tried a bottle of each of the starters I made for the Wild Yeast Lambic on 10/7/2011 to see where the larger batches might be going (I bottled 2 twelve ounce bottles of each starter when I drained the liquid off of each to toss the yeast into the wort). The results: the blueberry yeast version is still not that good, but better than it was 10 months ago, while the raspberry yeast version is still pucker-y sour deliciousness. We also checked the gravity of each, with the blueberry coming in at 1.006 and the raspberry at 1.050. So the blueberry is certainly fermented, while the raspberry is some form of lactobacillus (or maybe pediococcus). So now I’ll be planning the next step for each, which will probably involve racking the blueberry onto something that will go with the earthy and slightly burnt flavors, and finding a yeast to toss into the raspberry—something that can handle the low ph—although I will be racking the beer (or whatever the hell you would call an almost year old wort with lactobacillus) off the yeast cake first, as I most certainly plan on using the raspberry yeast cake again to see what it will become.

(7/16/2012)

517. Cigar City Guava Grove

Our friend Jeff came over for dinner this evening, and he was strapped with liquid gold. After a couple of preliminary beers to open the evening, he pulled this out—he said he’d been saving it for us to try since he went down to Tampa a year ago (same trip that brought the José Martí American Porter into our lives). So we cracked that sucker and got down to business. Tragically, this is only our second beer from Cigar City (well, that we’ve blogged about—there may have been others we kept a secret); the last one was José Martí American Porter, and it was delicious as well. Methinks we need to go to Tampa.

Guava Grove pours a crystal clear dark urine color—pretty much the color you’d find in the morning after a night of drinking—with a profuse creamy tan head fed by the streaming small bubbles up the side of the glass. I did get mocked for my color description; Jeff called it a buttery caramel edging on copper, which certainly sounds prettier, while Elli just shook her head. The nose was fantastic: dirty band aid mixed with tropical fruit. The balance between the tart and acetic character sour character was fantastic—it did get more citric as it warmed. As well, while the nose (and the flavor) was reminiscent of a Flanders Red-esque beer, most of this appears to be fruit derived rather than yeast derived: Jeff called this bottle much much much more approachable than the bottle he had a year ago in regards to the tartness. So doubly interesting. Anyway, flavors open with fruit and candy of the tropical/passion fruit variety. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that this is the guava, but never having had guava, I don’t want to lay claim to that which I don’t know. The sharp tartness starts in the front and builds into the middle, leaving the tongue dry and clean; with warmth, this shifts more towards a clean citric tartness. The finish is slightly creamy and tart, but with a mineral tang that gets left on the tongue. Underlying this profile, there is also a soft malt character that is slightly chewy. There is a lot of contradiction in this beer: the beer is soft on the palate while simultaneously tangy and tart on the tongue, and the mouthfeel is light, sharp, tart, but clean. Whatever it is, it is fantastic—it left small sweaty rosettes on my cheeks from the sourness, which is always a good hallmark for any sour beer in my book, even if this is not a yeast-derived sour beer. If that actually is the case, I’m certain this beer has fooled many an unsuspecting drinker. It is also hard to detect the saison characteristics underneath the fruit and tartness; regardless, it is a delicious and delightful treat. If we had one, we’d give Cigar City the official what we’re drinking seal of approval. Money in the bank!

Update: Looks like I was wrong. I e-mailed Cigar City regarding the yeast and process, and got the following reply from Wayne Wambles, Cigar City’s head brewer: “Initially, we used what we thought was just a mutated biere de garde strain. Come to find out...it had brux in it. So the very first batch that we made was what I believed to be fruit tartness but in actuality did have a small amount of brux in it. The following year it became outrageous. The owner decided to use a 30 bbl horizontal dairy tank that we bought to initially use as a cold liquor tank but decided that the footprint was too big. It was a big open fermenter that had no cooling apparatus. We used the same yeast as year one but this time we knew we were using brux. Things went well during the colder months. I was washing the yeast with chlorine dioxide between pitches to kill the bacteria and allowing the brett and mutant strain to be the top dogs. The weather became much warmer as we moved into summer and acetobacter started to become more prominent. It eventually became so forward that we had to cease production in this particular fermenter. The following year, we switched to a clean saison strain and stayed the course.” Thanks, Wayne! Looks like we need to score a bottle of the new, clean version to compare with the older version.

Photo by Phil Farrell

From the bottle: “Guava Grove is a Belgian-style ale that sees a secondary fermentation and extended aging on one of Tampa’s favored fruits, Guava. The complex flavors imparted by both the Belgian yeast strain and the Guava are unlike anything you are likely to encounter in other beers. The flavor is a complex weave of banana, guava, and tropical fruit with hints of clove. This elegant beer pairs well with fresh fish, mussels, fresh tropical fruits, and earthy cheeses. It also makes a fine accompaniment to Guavaween festivities.”

From the Cigar City website: “One of Tampa’s nicknames in addition to the Cigar City is the Big Guava. It earned the moniker from local newspaper columnist Steve Otto in the 1970's. The nickname eventually gave rise to one of Ybor City's most popular annual events, Guavaween. We brew Guava Grove in tribute to Tampa’s fruity nickname. Guava Grove is brewed with a French strain of Saison yeast and sees a secondary fermentation on pink guava puree.”

ABV: 8%

IBU: 18

(6/11/2012)

468. Cigar City José Martí American Porter

I wish to leave the world
By its natural door;
In my tomb of green leaves
They are to carry me to die.
Do not put me in the dark
To die like a traitor;
I am good, and like a good thing
I will die with my face to the sun.
A Morir [To Die] (1894)

There is poetry on the label. No wait, I don't think you heard me. Poetry. On the label. And as José Martí informs us, “A grain of poetry suffices to season a century.” This is our first beer from Cigar City Brewing, which is located in Tampa, FL. And it was the beneficent gift of Jeff Fortney, who spent last week in Florida, and thus returned strapped with fancy beer. Jeff and Jeffrey came over and joined Elli and myself for an evening of beer sampling and discussion, along with some homemade bread Jeff brought as well. We also got to try the White Oak Aged Jai Alai IPA, which has a fantastic oak and vanilla nose balanced by a caramel malt body. Which is to say that it was delicious. But we’re here for José.

Named after my favorite Cuban revolutionary (and yes, I am serious—sorry Che), José Martí American Porter pours a deep rich chocolate brown with a lush tan head. Initial aromas include roasty coffee sweetness; as the beer warms, slight chocolate and brown malt scents emerge. Flavors start with roasted sweetness mixed with chocolate; the mix is rather delicate, and while the roasted character is very upfront and direct, the beer has the mouthfeel to carry and balance the big roasted character. The middle dries out slightly, which allows the dry bitterness to come to the forefront even though there are still plenty of chocolate and coffee flavors to round and carry the beer. The finish has a touch of chalky dryness followed by a lingering roastiness that ends rather clean. José Martí has a rich, rounded mouthfeel that combines creaminess and roastiness. While the roasty components do seem a bit out of character for a porter—even an American porter—the bitterness and body helps to balance the beer, making it very drinkable. And, regardless of style, it is damn good drinking, Chalk me up for more of this beer—it is a Top 10 Best for the year all the way. Mix in the poetry on the label and the picture, and this beer has the total package.

From Rate Beer: “An aggressively hopped robust porter named for the Cuban national hero who also spent a significant amount of time in Tampa and gained prominence in Latin American literature from the poetry, essays, and publications he contributed to in his lifetime.”

ABV: 8.0%

(4/6/2011)