J. P. Patches

This morning, I got a text message from my brother, Jason. There were no words, just a picture from one of the front pages of The Seattle Times that read “Chris Wedes, 1928-2012: J. P. Patches, a treasure of Seattle childhood.”

“Fuck,” I thought. No, check that. I thought something much more profanity-laced, and longer than I am willing to type out. And while Elli was in the room with me when I got the message, I suddenly felt very alone. Part of my childhood—hell, probably one of the last and largest pieces of my childhood, to be honest—was dead. And that never feels very good. Especially when you have to explain who J. P. Patches is.

So rest in peace, Julius Pierpont Patches. I know I’ll drink one for you, my man, and I hope the rest of you will as well. Here’s to the man who was the man behind the man.

And, thanks, Jason, for passing the news along. While it sucks, it is still better to know.

(7/23/2012)

80 Shilling Yeast Experiment Brewday

Back in February, I made an American Pale Ale with White Labs Edinburgh Ale Yeast 028. I had a yeast cake, and I figured I’d try something different. And while that beer was delicious, it was not really an APA. So I figured that, in the name of science, I would run a single batch of beer across three different yeasts as a controlled experiment to compare the different versions. I picked an American yeast (Wyeast 1272 American Ale II), and Belgian yeast (Wyeast 3522 Belgian Ardennes), and an English yeast (White Labs 028 Edinburgh, since I liked it so much last time) in order to offer some variety. So without further ado, I bring you the 80 Schilling Yeast Experiment! Oh yeah, and I’ll be running an APA over the same three yeasts when I rack this one over to the secondary.

121. 80 Shilling Yeast Experiment

Mash:

10 lbs. Muntons Pale

½ lb. Weyermann Dark Munich

½ lb. Breiss Flaked Barley

½ lb. Gambrinus Honey Malt

½ lb. Muntons Dark Crystal 135-165° L

½ lb. Muntons Crystal 60° L

¼ lb. Crisp Pale Chocolate

Mash @ 157° F for 70 minutes w/ 4 gallons of RO water; collected 2 gallons @ 1.068; pulled 2 quarts to boil down and caramelize sugars
Batch sparge @ 158° F for 20 minutes w/ 5 gallons RO water; collected 5 gallons @ 1.028

Collected 6 ¾ gallon, brought to a boil (60 minutes), & added:

w/60 to go: 1 ¼ oz. Sonnet Golding leaf 4.1% AA

w/15 to go: 1 tsp. Irish Moss

Chilled, split 5 ½ gallons into three carboys, & pitched Wyeast 1272 American II (a), Wyeast 3522 Belgian Ardennes (b), and White Labs 028 Edinburgh (e)

Brewed: 7/21/2012
Secondary: 7/27/2012; a @ 1.016, b @ 1.016, & e @ 1.018
Bottled: 7/31/2012 w/ .9 oz table sugar each

OG: 1.052
FG: a @ 1.016, b @ 1.016, e @ 1.018

Tasting Notes: So I am finally getting around to typing up some notes on the first of the two yeast experiments I did this summer. In the glass, the color and carbonation for all three versions are identical: clear deep copper with a touch of chocolate and a wispy soft eggshell head—there is minimal carbonation even after about five months in the bottle.

Wyeast 1272 American II (a): The nose is clean and lightly nutty, with faint delicate chocolate that borders on cocoa; there is a hint of malt and caramel, but it is the most neutral of the three. Flavors follow quite closely; there is malt and caramel sweetness in the front with just a touch of chocolate in the middle, while the finish is smooth and even—it is just more of the caramel and malt of the front, with some lingering chocolate. There might be a touch of fruitiness in the middle, but it is very indistinct and buried. The nose is actually more interesting and subtle than the flavor profile: the delicate nut and cocoa doesn’t make it into the body. The body is light and gentle, and the subtle carbonation allows the beer to roll pleasantly across the palate. This is a good beer, but it comes across as a bit too clean overall. The beer is also a bit thin in the front; the cleanness is nice, but makes for a bit of an indistinct beer overall.

Wyeast 3522 Belgian Ardennes (b): There is a slight phenolic tang, along with some spicy fruitiness. Caramel comes in behind this, but is clearly secondary to the Belgian yeast characteristics—I find the nose a bit off-putting, honestly, and I’m a fan of both Belgian beers and 3522 in specific. The flavors are also a bit unbalanced between the phenolic yeast and the malt and caramel flavors: it opens with malt sweetness that leads into caramel in the middle before giving way to the spicy phenolics of the yeast in the finish. The subtlety found in the other two versions is lost—the hint of chocolate and even much of the caramel is hidden behind yeast flavors in the second half of the beer. As with the Wyeast 1272 version, the body is light with subtle carbonation. It does not, however, finish clean—the Belgian yeast character lingers on the palate. Still, I’ve had worse beers. At the same time, I wouldn’t recommend this combination.

White Labs 028 Edinburgh (e): The nose opens with a rich maltiness: there is toast, caramel, and a lighter chocolate with an almost delicate creamy breadiness behind the caramel. Flavors build upon the aromatics; sweet caramel malt in the front, with bread and biscuit leading into hints of chocolate in the middle, along with some nuttiness. The finish is dry but malty, and more husky than grainy. There is a hint more body in this beer, which not only gives it a touch more mouthfeel, but also gives it a corresponding more rounded feel on the tongue. In conjunction with the light carbonation, this version has a creamier, smoother body, even as it finishes cleanly. This yeast is certainly much more malt friendly than the other two; unlike the Wyeast 1272, which is clean and neutral, this yeast draws the malt flavors out to delicious effect. It is hands down the best beer of the three, although I can see a case being made for the 1272 version. Not that I’m listening.

Not surprisingly, all these yeasts ended up producing the types of characteristics that I would expect from them. Still, this experiment was valuable to see the ways in which the three yeasts interacted with one batch of beer. White Labs 028 Edinburgh produced the best beer for the style—it is a malt-friendly and malt forward yeast. Wyeast 1272 American II was too clean and neutral, which is good for certain types of American beers, but it came across as a bit too bland in a Scottish 80 Shilling. It was clean, yes, but nothing really stood out. As well, it was the thinnest of the three in terms of mouthfeel—the one place Wyeast 3522 Belgian Ardennes was better than 1272 was in mouthfeel, even though both finished with the same final gravity. And Wyeast 3522 Belgian Ardennes? While I’m certain there is someone out there for this particular beer, it is not me. Although I do want to point out that when I took a couple of six-packs of this and 122. American Pale Ale YeastExperiment, there were a couple of people who got behind the Belgian Ardennes version of the Scottish 80 Shilling. So there you go: nothing ventured, nothing gained.

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)

523. New Glarus Raspberry Tart

We picked this beer up in Wisconsin in January on our trip back from Seattle, and pulled it out today to drink while watching Stage 9 (long individual  long time) of the Tour de France. Beer and cycling? Sacre bleu! This is our third beer from New Glarus, everyone’s favorite Wisconsin brewery (sorry, Leinenkugel’s!); the last two were Wisconsin Belgian Red and Fat Squirrel Brown Ale.

Raspberry Tart pours a crystal clear and luscious ruby red with hints of brown at the edges; the head is thin, white, and quickly goes the way of the dinosaurs. And as the label warned us, the nose is resplendent with bright and tart raspberry aromas followed with a touch of jammy sweetness. Flavors are equally delightful—Raspberry Tart starts sweet and, well, tart with plenty of raspberry. There is a soft doughy wheat malt in the middle, and the jammy sweetness comes through here as well. The tartness returns in the finish, combining to linger with the sweet jam and fruit flavors of the raspberry in a wonderful mélange of taste sensations. Carbonation is bright, prickly, & spritzy, while the mouthfeel of the malt character is light and soft on the palate. The combination is clean, refreshing, and crisp—there is a wonderful balance of tart and sweetness from the fruit in the beer. This beer may even be better than the Belgian Red—I know Elli thinks so. I myself am on the fence. The consolation of philosophy connected to that discussion, however, will not do much considering that our cellar is currently bereft of both beers.

From the bottle: “Treat yourself to a rare delight. The voluminous raspberry bouquet will greet you long before your lips touch your glass. Serve this Wisconsin framboise very cold in a champagne flute. Then hold your glass to a light and enjoy the jewel-like sparkle of a very special ale. Oregon proudly shares their harvest of mouth watering berries which we ferment spontaneously in large oak vats. Then we employ Wisconsin farmed wheat and year old Hallertau hops to round out this extravaganza of flavor. Life’s too short to wait for dessert.”

ABV: 4.0%

(7/9/2012)

The Session #65: On the Solo Tip

Like most Americans, early on I was socialized to believe that doing anything by yourself was, well, weird. This included pretty much most aspects of life: clothes, beliefs, interests, etc.—you know, be one with the herd. The problem for me was that I didn’t work that way. I didn’t mind being alone for hours on end, reading and thinking, and I found quite a bit of pleasure in consciously (albeit quietly) deviating from accepted social norms. At the same time, I did learn to fit in, by which I mean I learned to be a social creature, if for no other reason than the stark realization that willfully ignoring and contravening social conventions carried far more social costs than merely being a loner. And, with time, these attitudes expanded to include other age relevant elements of my life, like beer in general, and drinking in specific, once I became of age for such pursuits.

The conforming public extrovert and rebellious private introvert went on until I was in college, when one day, when I was meeting friends for a beer, I ran across a professor of mine, who was drinking a pint by himself in the bar and reading a book. I remember this moment very specifically for two reason: 1) I had skipped class that day, and 2) he is the first person in my memory that I actively recognize as drinking alone in public. And he was most certainly enjoying himself doing it. I was so shocked that I walked over to ask him what I had missed in class that day. He looked up, happily answered my question, and then returned to his book. Clearly, company was not needed. The feeling I experienced at that moment can be best described as a combination of being impressed coupled with cognitive dissonance—here was someone who was not afraid to display his introversion publicly. So simple, and yet the thought had never crossed my mind. And thus was born my embrace of public introversion. Over the course of the next couple of years, I experimented: bars, coffee shops, restaurants, movies. These quasi-public, quasi-private endeavors allowed me to realize that, on occasion, these events were more enjoyable when done alone: I could focus on enjoying the task at hand, be it reading, eating, mulling over a pint of something specific, or enjoying a film. Yes, all of these experiences can, at times, be enhanced by the company of others. But not always. So here’s to the times when drinking alone is its own reward.

(7/6/2012)

522. Fremont Homefront IPA

Our third beer from Fremont Brewing, following Bourbon Abominable 2011 (love that name) and Harvest Ale. I picked this up in Seattle during my recent visit with my dad, and brought it home because I figured Elli would like it. And I was right.

Homefront IPA pours a hazy butterscotch with a thick, rocky eggshell head. The nose is a delicious blend of spice, pine, and resin hop aromas mixed with floral and perfume yeast esters, with an emphasis on the evergreen. Flavors follow suit, with pine and a touch of caramel in the front, followed by bitterness and dryness in the middle coupled with more evergreen and pine hop flavor. There is a slight chalk and mineral bite in the turn to the finish, then the pine returns, along with a tannic bite on the tongue from the oak that lingers with the bitterness. The oak bite also dries out the beer on the palate, as does the bright carbonation, although it simultaneously makes the beer clean & fresh on the palate. The malt character strikes me as more British than American; while the flavor is more caramel than crystal, the malt contributes more of a chewy mouthfeel than any clear, distinct flavor in the beer—it serves mainly as a backdrop for the hop flavor. Homefront also strikes me as not as definitively a Northwest IPA as others I’ve tried, although I’d be hard pressed to pin down the intangibles that have led me to this claim. Nonetheless, a well-balanced and easy drinking beer—it is simple, upfront, clean, and fresh. Homefront IPA is both approachable and refreshing. Nice work, Fremont.

From the bottle: “Homefront IPA is a special beer created with Chris and Phil Ray of COTU Brewing to honor our veterans as they return home from their tour of duty. Homefront is aged on oak bats donated by Louisville Slugger and is released nationwide in collaboration with 21st Amendment, Perennial Artisan, St. Arnold, Cigar City and Sly Fox Brewing. This beer is our way to say thank you to our service members for their sacrifice. Operation Homefront (OH) provides emergency financial assistance to the families of our service members and wounded warriors. All proceeds from the sale of this beer will be donated to OH.”

ABV: 6.2%
Malt:  2-row, Crystal 60 & Aromatic
Hops: Cascade & Chinook

(7/4/2012)

521. Widmer Marionberry Hibiscus Gose

So Widmer is getting in on the sour beer action. Or, as described on their website, they are “perfecting the art of tart.” Good, but you’re not quite there yet. All told, this is our third beer from Widmer, including Nelson Imperial IPA and Drifter Pale Ale.

We had this beer served to us in a tulip glass at South Park Tavern; it is a delicate bordello shade of dusty rose with a thin white head reduced to a ring by the time it appeared at our table. The nose features a gummy wheat aroma mixed with floral esters and a touch of sour that is almost but not quite lactic. It does better approach a lactic tang in the nose as it warms. As well, there is no real salt or salinity detectable in the nose. Flavors start with a malty bread dough and wheat coupled with salt, followed by hibiscus and a slight saline tang before moving into a soft and refrained cleansing lactic bite towards the finish—it does taste more like acidulated malt than lactobacillus—with hibiscus & berry, both of which linger on the tongue. The body is medium and doughy/gummy with a gentle carbonation that enhances the wheat character of the beer. The delicate, soft, and rounded body is offered a touch of brightness via the hibiscus. The berry flavor comes out as it warms; initially, it is only in the finish, and it took over a bit too much in the final quarter of the glass. An interesting beer, but it needs more lactic sourness and more salt—it is more a gose dressed-up for Joe Sixpack, which ultimately means it is more fruit beer than gose. It is certainly lacking the balance seen in Jackie O’s Raspberry Berliner Weisse, which deftly combines fruit and sour without sacrificing either. I am glad that someone is commercially producing a gose, and I understand the need to make it palatable to wider audience, but, well, I am a bit disappointed.

From the Widmer website: “Gose is a traditional cloudy German-style wheat beer that balances tart and slightly salty flavors with a soft malt background. Our unique take uses a healthy dose of Oregon-grown marionberries as well as dried hibiscus flowers for a tart, floral profile with clove & coriander flavors to round it out. Prost! Or Goseanna!”

ABV: 5.5%

(7/3/2012)