585. Bruery Sour in the Rye

Two Bruery beers two days in a row! What are the chances? Actually, we planned to drink this last night, but didn’t get to it, so that means it is up first tonight. This certainly puts us north of a baker’s dozen with the Bruery, including Tart of Darkness, Oude Tart, Rueuze, 5 Golden Rings, Marrón Acidifié (a collabo with Cigar City), Autumn Maple, Humulus Session, 3 French Hens, Saison de Lente, Rugbrød, Hottenroth, Orchard White and Saison Rue. Ring in that New Year!

Sour in the Rye pours a hazy but brilliant burnt orange with a dazzlingly white head that rolls down the side of the glass when swirled in creamy bright swirls and also has intense orange highlights coming through the glass. There is citric and lactic tartness mixed with spicy oak and rye in the nose followed by loamy earth; it is really quite splendid. Flavors start with young oak and fruit—pear and apple—followed quickly by lactic tartness that transitions into a brighter citric bite towards the finish. There is also some candy and biscuit buried underneath the other flavors in the front and middle, and a decent tannic bite from the oak in the final third of the beer. The vitamin C citric bite and the spicy rye with oak combine nicely in the finish; both linger a bit, but leave the palate mostly clean with only a slight mineral grit on the tongue. The body is medium and slightly chewy with bright, clean carbonation that, combined with the tartness, draws out the other flavors. I like this beer quite a bit more than the Tart of Darkness from last night, mostly because it is brighter and more bracing; while it provides an equal amount of blushing on the cheeks, the tartness is clean and sharp without the lingering acetic burn. There is also more body to balance the tart components of the beer, and more depth of flavor to carry the beer as a whole. I’ll be looking for another bottle of this to see how it ages.

From the bottle: “Deliciously sour, bursting with spicy rye notes and hints of oak from the barrels it was aged within.”

From the Bruery website: “We brewed this ale with around 40% rye as a base malt and let our sour yeast and bacteria eat away at it in oak barrels for over a year creating a sour ale with a complex character of rye spice, oak and a subtle funk.”

ABV: 7.8%

(1/1/2014)

584. The Bruery Tart of Darkness

What better day to break out some fancy beer than New Year’s Eve? And nothing say jubilation around these here parts like the Bruery. So let’s get this party started! I bought this bottle last year, so it has had a chance to do it’s own thing in the basement ala Heavy D. And just like old school rap, the Bruery will never let me down. PEACE! Anyway, we can add this to the list from the brewery I love to love, including Oude Tart, Rueuze, 5 Golden Rings, Marrón Acidifié (a collabo with Cigar City), Autumn Maple, Humulus Session, 3 French Hens, Saison de Lente, Rugbrød, Hottenroth, Orchard White and Saison Rue.

Tart of Darkness pours a clear dark chocolate with ruby highlights and a thin tan head; the nose is leather, berry, and tobacco up front—and by berry I mean it is a jam bomb—with lingering acetic sourness and oak coming in at the end. Still, there is enough pucker in the nose to make my mouth start to react, specifically along the sides of my cheeks. And the tartness drops once it hits your lips: I get vinegar, oak, and red licorice up front, followed by lactic and citric brightness accompanied by vanilla from the oak in the middle and lots of berry flavor. Oh, and my cheeks started blushing almost immediately when I put glass to lips. The finish is has a slight mineral roast grit, dark fruit, and an acetic acid twang along with a tannic oak and sour roast bite. Still, it finishes rather clean, with some lingering pucker in the back of the cheeks. The beer has a thin body, but the oak and sourness provides the illusion of a bigger body than the beer actually has, in part from the slick and vinous mouthfeel on the palate and from the roast bite as well. While this may initially have had some roast in the aroma (as per the description below), it currently reads more like a darker Flanders Red—the hints of roast grit, sour roast bite, and slightly darker color being the only real elements keeping it from falling completely into that category. And even then, it is not very stout-y or stout-like. Although that is most likely not a surprising claim. Basically, this beer is another vote for yeast being the most important contributing factor to beer—well, and also a vote for time, the illusive fifth factor in the traditional quartet of yeast-malt-hops-water discussions. Maybe the best comparison is to Oude Tart, with this being the darker and more aggressively sour version—specifically in regards to the acetic acid—with more red licorice and juicy berry flavors as well. Still, a pucker-y delight that I’m certain will leave my cheeks wincing before it’s finished. As it should be.

From the bottle: “With a roasty aroma and a tart finish, this sour black ale is a contortion of style and flavor, creating an unexpected delight.”

ABV: 5.6%

P.S. I want to call this beer a colonialist fantasy in my mouth, but I’m afraid no one would get the joke.

(12/31/2013)

582. Brouwerij West Saison Extra

The label features a cat playing pinball. Let me repeat that: a cat. Who is playing pinball. Pinball. Awesome. This beer is from Brouwerij West, which is located in San Jose, CA. Not surprisingly, they are Belgian-influenced; as they note on their webpage, “We make beer in classic Belgian style with mostly Belgian ingredients. Our beer is dry and refreshing. We make no IPA and have no barrel aging or spices.” While I’m not sure why barrel aging and spices are identified as outside of the “classic Belgian style” since both are a part of that tradition—unless this is a dig at American brewing’s love of wood and over-spicing—I do understand the choice not to make an IPA, although that is no longer shocking. Still, I’m willing to let it go if it gets me more labels like this one.

Saison Extra pours a hazy but brilliant gold; the head is thin and white, and disperses quickly, leaving tiny islands and a ring. In the nose, there is musty earth and fruit—pear, apple, and grape, to be specific—along with some candy Pilsner malt, followed by wafting hints of bitterness. As it opens up, there is bread crust and some floral esters that complement the other aromas. Flavors follow the nose, starting with candy Pilsner sweetness that dries out into bread crust and fruitiness. The middle is juicy and lightly bitter—sort of a dry, musty bitterness that is just short of oxidized paper, but in a good way—while the finish is cracker, pepper, and slightly spicy bitterness. The mouthfeel is bigger than I would like—it could be easily dried out several points to brighten and dry the beer on the tongue—and the carbonation is a bit low, although it does bite nicely in the finish. The bitterness in the finish cuts out some of the juiciness from the yeast, which Elli appreciates—she is not a fan of the juicier saisons, preferring those leaning towards Saison Dupont, although she is always game to try a new saison. For me, the base beer is good: I like the combination of cracker, candy sweetness, and mustiness. But I would like it better if the body was drier and the carbonation was brighter. Both would make this a stronger saison overall. Still, a pleasure to drink: I’d happily drink more, even without the cat label. 

From the Brouwerij West website: “Brouwerij West is excited to announce the release of our Saison Extra in 500 ml bottles. As always, we use only imported Belgian malt, German noble hops and our Brouwerij West yeast. We chose not to duplicate the standard ‘peppery/spicy’saison profile and instead go after bubble gum esters and noble hop aroma. Extra is Bright and malty, with a firm bitterness and a dry finish. Hazy gold in color.”

ABV: 6.5%
Bottle: 7483/10000

(12/18/2013)

580. Modern Times Lomaland

This beer is courtesy Brian Gallow, who sent me a text message asking if I was interested in splitting a couple of four-packs of Modern Times. To which I obviously said yes, although it was a tougher decision than you may have thought. For while I love the Mad Fermentationist (for information like this), I am annoyed and disgusted by the gratuitous use of “cock-staggeringly” in Modern Times’ advertising prose. Which started pretty much right out the gate. Still, they do offer “open source” brewing, which means all their recipes are open and available to the public. But no matter how cool the cool things are, the repulsion keeps creeping back in. I guess I will have to find some way to live with myself. I still feel dirty. 

Lomaland pours a crystal clear straw—look at that clarity in the picture—with a fluffy white head that offers moderate staying power. The nose is a mix of sweet candy Pils and corn; there are earthy hints of phenol pepperiness mixed with a perfume-y juicy Belgian yeast character and just a dash of Noble hop bitterness lingering in the background. Flavors start dry and crackery, although there is a slight sweetness, almost like you left a saltine cracker on your tongue and the acid in your mouth started converting the starches to sugars. The middle is peppery phenols and light hop bitterness; there is also some slight scratchy graininess on the tongue as the beer heads towards the finish via the carbonation, and there is also a bit of the corn grittiness that sits on the back of the tongue in the finish along with the hop bitterness. While flavors are bright, there is some soft roundness in the mouthfeel of the beer itself even with the dryness and attenuation—that’s the flaked wheat and corn talking—specifically in the front, although the sharp, clean carbonation hides the softness. This is a good beer, albeit a bit rough on the palate. I’m guessing, though, that’s the “rustic” referred to on the label—it is a bit outside the “classic” vision of a saison invoked by the likes of Saison Dupont, Fantôme, or even Ommegang Hennepin, but it is certainly in line with the burgeoning American farmhouse saison that is all the rage with the kids these days. Still, approachable and very drinkable, even with the poorly chosen verbiage to describe the brewery as a whole.

From the can: “Lomaland is an earthy, rustic Belgian-style farmhouse ale that’s both complex and quaffable. It smells like hay, pepper, and friendly sunshine. Its dry, cracker-like body and lightly-hoppy finish make it a beautiful compliment to food. We named Lomaland after the brilliantly crazy utopian community that was the first settlement built in Point Loma, the San Diego neighborhood where our Fermentorium is located.”

ABV: 5.5%
IBU: 30
FG: 1.006

(11/15/2013)

577. The Bruery Oude Tart

Since it is my birthday, I’m pulling out the fancy beer. The last time I had Oude Tart was about 20 minutes before I was poured into the backseat of my Shuttle Express ride to LAX. You all remember that day, right? I know I do! I’m even using the same glass I got from that day. How it survived my drunken plane flight home is beyond me. But it did, and here we are something like almost three years later. Anyway, I’ll refrain from regaling you all with more of my quasi-obsessive Bruery fixation stories, and instead move on to the beer itself. Oh wait, you really do want to hear more? I wasn’t expecting that answer! Well, if you can’t figure out how to track down the other posts through using the search engine above, then the terrorist really have won. How’s that feel?

Oude Tart pours a clear orange-ish brown with red highlights; there was just the hint of a tan head that glazed the surface of the beer, followed by a decently lasting ring around the edge of the glass. The nose is musty earth and stone fruit, followed by oak and red licorice. There are hints of both lactic and acetic tartness in the nose—my cheeks did start to blush before drinking it—but it is decently behind some of the other aromas, specifically the creamy oak and stone fruit. In the flavor, both the sourness and tartness are much more forward, opening with a tart citric acid bite mixed with lactic sourness as well as leather and stone fruit—cherry and plum specifically, but also fig. The oaks come out in the middle, as does the touch of musty earth, which was more prominent in the nose. There are some residual brown sugar and burnt sugar flavors that transition into the acetic vinegar finish, along with a gentle tannic oak bite that lingers pleasantly. The body is thin, as to be expected, although the pleasant oak character helps round the beer on the tongue, and the vinous character of the beer also adds to the perception of mouthfeel, along with a slight creaminess. While the flavors are good, it could use more depth of malt complexity to balance the tartness in the beer—after the oak and sourness, it is a bit uni-dimensional. Still, the sharp tartness brings rosettes of sweat to my upper cheeks, and I do love that! So here’s to being another year closer to my death! 

From the bottle: “Pleasantly sour with hints of leather, dark fruit, and toasty oak from extended aging in oak barrels.”

ABV: 7.5%

(11/4/2013)

563. The Bruery Rueuze

Another beer from the Bruery, the place that continues to taunt me with membership opportunities not available to those living outside of California. And yes, that makes the Bruery a tease. A dirty, dirty tease. Although if you wanted to sign me up in secret, I promise never to tell. Hint hint. Any-whoo, this is another to add to the list of Bruery beers that I compromised my morals to obtain, which includes: 5 Golden Rings, Marrón Acidifié (a collabo with Cigar City), Autumn Maple, Humulus Session, 3 French Hens, Saison de Lente, Rugbrød, Hottenroth, Orchard White and Saison Rue.

Rueuze pours a crystal clear gold with a thin white head that disappears well-nigh instantly, although the small, consistent stream of small bubbles keep a thin ring on the glass—very thin. It is bright and luminescent, throwing plenty of golden highlights in the light refracted through the beer. The nose is musty earth, oak, tartness, and vinegar pretty much in that order. Flavors start with citric lemon-y tartness and a slight doughy softness from the malt, moving into oak mixed with an acetic tang in the middle—the two play off each other nicely on the tongue. The finish is tart and puckery with some residual sweetness returning after the initial bite. While the carbonation comes across as a bit low, the beer remains active in the glass, although the tartness provides more mouthfeel than the carbonation. In a similar manner, the dry body does have some residual sweetness lurking in the background. Thus, Rueuze is simultaneously soft and bright on the palate—soft from the light malt and body, but bright via the lactic and acetic tang, both of which are exacerbated by the gentle tannic oak bite. The dryness and tartness are in competition with the acetic flavors and softness: each is vying for the upper hand, but neither really takes control. While it could a bit more snap in the finish, it is nonetheless an interesting and enjoyable beer, one that is (or in this case, was) a good contender for further aging. The last pour was the best; the touch of yeast heightened the lemon-y tartness and rounded the whole of the beer. As it warmed, Rueuze hit that gueuze tang and bright bite that the first two-thirds of the bottle were missing—I was left with the small rosettes of bright flush on my cheeks that tell me I’ve found the tart sweet spot. Our final comments are summed up by the picture below: if the yeast culture produces anything even in the ballpark of this one, we’re all winners here.

From the bottle: “Our take on a gueuze-style ale, this intensely tart and funky beer combines three different vintages of our barrel aged sour blonde ale.”

From the Bruery website: “Rueuze is our take on the traditional Belgian-style blend of lambics of different ages. We carefully select a number of oak barrels from our warehouse that have been aging our sour blonde ale for various lengths of time and blend them to what we think is the ideal flavor. this is one complex beer.  Notes of hay, barnyard funk, apricots, and even olives play wonderfully with the balanced acidity.”

ABV: 5.9%

And here is my attempt to give this beer more life in order to add it to the various other concoctions existing in my domicile.

(5/5/2013)

560. Firestone Walker 14 Anniversary Ale

I’ll start by noting that there are a lot of adjectives we could use to describe this beer. A lot. It has a lot of layers. A lot. As in numerous. And, not surprisingly, all of them are delicious. As well, this is our third beer from Firestone Walker; previous indulgences—good, but not so nearly good as this—include Solace and Union Jack IPA. I’m just sayin’.

14 Anniversary Ale pours a rich brown sugar molasses with a thin, wispy tan head. While dark, it is crystal clear in the glass. The nose is rich, thick, and deep: molasses, caramel, and brown sugar dance in the nose, along with a slight tannic oak-scented vanilla creaminess. There is also cherry and tobacco; even with all of this, it is bright, clean, and open—nothing is muddled or indistinct. Flavors are rounded, chewy, and chocolate-y. The front is molasses, brown sugar, and cocoa before moving chocolate and dark fruit richness. As it moves into the finish, there is a richer chocolate and cocoa mixed with a slight roast tang. The mouthfeel is sweet, chewy, rich, and rounded; while clean, the sweetness and the slick smoothness coming from the stouts gives the beer a delicious aged presence on the palate that is soft and simultaneously delightful. While this beer is delightful across the board, the nose and mouthfeel really stand out. While the flavor profile is delightful and complex, the nose is seductively transcendent—it is an aromatic delight that is stunningly rich and rewarding. It is probably one of the most interesting noses I’ve found in a beer in the last several years. Yes, it is that good. Or, as might not be surprising, was that good. In other words, having finished the beer about 25 minutes ago, I’m still struggling with adequately describing the delightfully ephemeral olfactory sensations that are still dancing in my mind. Maybe I’ll find more of that when I crack the 15 in another year or so. I certainly hope so. Time will tell.

From the box: “Since founding our brewery in 1996, we have specialized in the rare art of fermenting beer in oak barrels. In the fall of 2006, we released a limited edition, oak-aged strong ale called ‘10’ to commemorate our 10th anniversary, thus beginning an annual autumn rite. This year, we present 14, our fifth release from our barrel aged program. 14 was crafted from separate lots produced over several months and years, then carefully blended into this truly unique and complex brew. Each of the contributing lots was aged in oak barrels, some previously used by American spirits producers, others used in our Firestone Union. Each barrel lent its own bit of soul to the flavor profile, including nuances of tobacco, chocolate, and molasses. Local Paso Robles area winemakers and our brewers collaborated to taste each individual lot and lend their expertise to the final blend. The resulting limited production brew offers immense depth and complexity with long, intense flavors that beg to be sipped and savored. 14 is a one-of-a-kind beer built to last and will reward careful aging for years to come.”

ABV: 12.5%

P.S. That bear is gonna kick the crap out of the lion. Trust me on this one.

(3/1/2013)

558. The Bruery 5 Golden Rings

And now onto the last beer of the evening: the Bruery’s 5 Golden Rings. Technically, we had a Timothy Taylor’s Landlord to close out the evening after this, but we’re not counting that. Previous excursions into the land of my personal beer fantasy world include Marrón Acidifié (a collabo with Cigar City), Autumn Maple, Humulus Session, 3 French Hens, Saison de Lente, Rugbrød, Hottenroth, Orchard White and Saison Rue.

5 Golden Rings pours an opaque golden orange with a thin white head—you can see the carbonation fighting through the body in slow, measured time. The nose is a tart, citric pineapple front and center; behind that, there is some chewy rounded Belgian malt and yeast character, but the pineapple is currently running the show. Flavors start with pineapple and malt sweetness, leading into a chewier rounded middle mixed with alcohol warmth. In the finish, there is a touch of bitterness before the alcohol heat comes into play—it is the warmth that points to the youth of this beer more than anything else. This beer is going to need some time to come together—the pineapple is too much the pineapple-juice-out-of-a-can-of-fruit right now, and the alcohol warmth is a too much. I will say that the beer is well-attenuated; I expected it to get stickier as it warmed, when it actually dried out more on the palate. But otherwise, this beer needs to sit in the cellar for two or three years to figure itself out. Because right now—and it does pain me to say this, loving on the Bruery as I do—this beer is not very drinkable. So if you’ve got it, age it for posterity. Come back to this one. Forget about it for now. You might not thank me later, but you’ll certainly thank me now. 

From the bottle: “The fifth verse of our ‘Twelve Beers of Christmas’ saga incorporates sweet, cake-like spice into a rich and robust golden ale. Happy Holidays! 5 Golden Rings is suitable for aging up to seven years (soon after release of ‘Twelve Drummers Drumming’) when cellared properly.”

ABV: 11.5%

(2/13/2013)

541. Saison du Buff Trifecta

So I salted away bottle of each of these when they first came out, and then proceeded to forget about them. Well, until now. My initial realization came from the “Enjoy By” date on the Victory bottle: January 16, 2011. Don’t tell me when to open my beer! While we’ve previously sampled the Stone version, we haven't had a chance to sample all three at once in order to compare them. The approximate brew dates were: Stone in April 2010, Victory in July 2010, and Dogfish Head in August 2010. All three breweries put out new version earlier in 2012; I saw the new version from Stone, and I heard that both Dogfish Head and Victory brought one out as well, but these three are from the first go around. Aged, might I add, to perfection. All three pour a soft gold; the white pillow-y head runs from voluminous for the Dogfish Head version to minimal for the Victory version.

Dogfish Head: this version has the best nose and overall delicate aroma—slight mineral and herbal character that dances in harmony with the malt and yeast components. There is a clean citrus character, and a soft honeyed sweetness that plays well with the perfume-y aromatics of the herbs and yeast. The body is fuller than other two versions; the malt is sweet and slightly doughy, and the herbal flavors carry across the profile. The dry, sharp carbonation helps clean the beer, making the body appear drier than it is. However Dogfish Head handled the herbs should be the new model—it has the cleanest and brightest flavors of the three, and is still delicately nuanced after two years in the basement. It is Fortney’s favorite of the three.

Stone: the nose has similar characteristics to the Dogfish Head, but they are more muted and flat, and are accompanied by a musty earthiness. There is also a touch of vegetal, although it dissipates as the beer opens. Fortney calls it a “rancid chamomile,” which sounds harsh, but it is appropriate. Flavor-wise, the only real brightness is a soapy character on the palate mixed with vegetal and herbal flavors. There is a touch of cardboard across the profile, and the finishing bitterness doesn’t quite fit with the beer. It is dry and minerally, drier than the Dogfish Head, but the flavors don’t work as well. This would be a good beer by itself, but in comparison to the two other versions, it is the clear loser on table.

Victory: this version is the most classically saison-like of the three. The nose is earthy and dry with softer herbal characteristics, but has more Belgian yeast character in the nose—there are both floral and fruity aromatics with a soft hint of malt sweetness. There is some tannic bite in the body that strikes both of us as mineral and herbal residue, but it works well in the beer. This is also the driest and most attenuated version of the beer, and has both the least herbal presence and the most Belgian yeast character of the three. The carbonation is lighter than other version, but the mineral bitterness serves to clean the palate and close the beer nicely. This version is, not surprisingly, my favorite. It carries the subtle herbal flavors of the Dogfish Head, but is the strongest saison of the three.

A delightful experience in all; too bad there aren’t more bottles to try later. We all thought the aging improved the beers; flavors were married well, allowing subtlety to shine through.

ABV: 6.8%

Herbs: rosemary, thyme, sage, and parsley

(11/17/2012)

527. North Coast Old Stock Ale 2009 Cellar Reserve

“This tastes like everything Samichlaus wishes it tasted like.”

Jeffrey McElfresh

Hot damn. This beer is easily one of the best beers I’ve had in the last couple of years. Sorry all you other fancy beers, but you just got served. Old Stock Ale Cellar Reserve 2009 is North Coast’s regular Old Stock Ale aged in bourbon barrels. And the results are, well, stupendous. North Coast is no stranger to us in these here parts, although it has been a while; our final tabulations indicate that we’ve tried several selections, including Old Stock Ale 2004, Brother Thelonius, Old No. 38 Stout, Red Seal Ale, Cru d’Or Organic Belgian Style Ale and Old Rasputin XII. Prost to Fort Bragg!

Old Stock Ale 2009 Cellar Reserve pours a crystal clear maple syrup brown with orange and red highlights jumping out all over the place. While there was not much in the way of a head on the beer, I pretty much didn’t think about it or care because the aromas streaming out of this beer were phenomenal: brown sugar, molasses, caramel, maple syrup, bright oak, vanilla, bourbon, and hard butterscotch candy. In fact, I smelled and smelled and smelled this beer. Beguiling, alluring, and intoxicating. And no, I’m not talking because of the alcohol, although there were very evident legs on the glass with each swirl. Once I got around to drinking it, the front was a mix of brown sugar and maple syrup with lesser amounts of buttered toast. The vanilla and bourbon really came through in the middle, as did the bright oak flavor, although everything was restrained and in control. The finish offered honey and a tannic bite from the oak; there was a touch of alcohol and bourbon and some lingering warmth that was pleasant and reassuring. The gentle carbonation allowed the chewy & rich malt body to shine; it came with a touch of creaminess that helped round the beer on the palate. In fact, everything was even about this beer—it was complex and delightful with plenty of malt character, it featured a well-balanced use of bourbon and oak, and it was smooth and surprisingly easy-drinking for 13.16% ABV. There was nothing overpowering, and all facets of the beer were in harmony. It was like the warm blanket you wrap around yourself when sitting by the fire on a brisk winter evening, the one that relaxes you and makes everything perfect. In other words, it was super awesome. And it easily could easily handle a couple more years of aging—everything was still bright and fresh and clean. Although I’m not sure I can imagine it being better than it was: that would just blow my mind.

From the bottle: “Old Stock Cellar Reserve is a small batch, limited release that has been aged in oak bourbon barrels. The aging process gives this world-class beer an added layer of complexity. A memorable drink that should be enjoyed as a completely unique offering.”

ABV: 13.16%

(7/30/2012)

525. Marin Brewing Old Dipsea Barleywine 2009

This particular beer was part of our evening of plenty: we tried four different beers from Yazoo Brewing in Nashville, TN (the Rye Saison was the best of the four, by the way, although we thought the APA and the IPA would be better if they were both fresher and on tap) and the collaboration between Jolly Pumpkin and Maui Brewing, Sobrehumano Palena ’Ole, which was fantastic and should only get better with more time in the bottle. So why did we make this our selection for the day, you ask? Because I actually wrote down some notes, that’s why. After all, when the drinking is all done, and you’ve got nothing but empties, you need more than vague assertions and empty descriptions like “that tasted good” to build a following. Not that that hasn’t served in the past, mind you. And the clamoring numbers to get up on this blog are, well, stunningly inconspicuous. Any-hoo, I bought this beer a couple of years ago in San Francisco, and meticulously socked it away in the basement as is my wont; after all the sticker indicating it had been “Bourbon Barrel Aged for 10 Months” told me that it needed to sit back for a while. So there you go—you’re all caught up and the likes. Oh, and this is our first beer from Marin Brewing, kicking it out there on the Left Coast. Although they seem to have some sort of relationship with Moylan’s, who we’ve tried before.

Old Dipsea pours a brown infused with both red and orange—it looks, quite honestly, Belgian—with a wispy, wafty tan head that swirls in arabesques over the beer. It also features red highlights and is crystal clear. The nose packs a decent punch of oak and dark fruit—mainly raisin, plum, and cherry—with a corresponding touch of alcohol. Taken collectively, you get an oaky rum raisin with chewy caramel. Flavors start with brown sugar and caramel malt, followed by vanilla, oak, and fruit in the middle—again, raisin, plum, and cherry—with a touch of alcohol flavor and warmth, and rounding out with a tannic bite, a touch of alcohol, and then oak and bourbon. While the tannic bite lingers, the beer is rather clean and dry in the finish. The mouthfeel has a couple of odd contradictions: it is chewy and rich with a touch of vinous character and yet also has a bit too much heat from the alcohol. And at three years in, I’m not certain that’s going away. There is also a surprising amount of oak for the time spent in the bottle, but that is more balanced, and is spread out across the beer’s profile. We’d  like to see less sharp alcohol in the flavor and mouthfeel, but everything else is pretty much in line.

From the bottle: “Our richest ale has a deep copper color, is full-flavored and very hoppy in the finish. We use East Kent Goldings and Styrian Goldings to hop the balance of flavor just right. Ideal for sipping after dinner.” The website says pretty much the same thing.

ABV: 9.0%

(7/24/2012)

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)

504. Lost Abbey Red Poppy Ale

It’s been a while since we had a beer from Lost Abbey, so it was nice to come across a bottle of this during our sojourns through various NW beer retailers. Described on the label as a “malt beverage brewed with cherries and aged in oak barrels,” Red Poppy gets added to a list of Lost Abbey beers that include Angel’s Share 2010, Serpent Stout 2009, Carnevale Ale and Avant Garde Ale, making this one lucky number five.

Red Poppy Ale pours a crystal clear reddish brown, which Elli says is burnt sienna. The head is thin and eggshell, hanging around briefly but rousing easily, while the nose is a mix of fruitiness, tartness, mustiness, and cherry. Maybe a touch of funk thrown in for good measure. Flavors start sweet and sharp, with competing tart and vinegar sourness palate sensations—the body is thin and dry like we expected, but also lively on the tongue. There is a fair amount of cherry in the middle, along with a more even sourness and some mineral dryness. Red Poppy finishes dry and musty with the lingering flat cherry flavor common to beers with cherries—slightly acidic in its own right, accompanied by a touch of tongue curling astringency. As noted, the body is bone dry with bright lively carbonation on the tongue. The beer is delicious—hell, it’s from Lost Abbey—but the cherry flavor does limit and impede the traditional complexity we connect with Flanders red, specifically in the middle of the beer—the cherry sweetness covers and minimizes the dry puckering sourness that makes beads of perspiration emerge on my cheeks. Still, we’d happily drink more—we’re just saying that while the overall effect of the cherry on the beer is delightful, it is still slightly overwhelming.

From the Lost Abbey website: “Perhaps no country embraces the use of fruit in beers more so than Belgium. Numerous traditional as well as regional specialty ales are infused with every sort of fruit imaginable. In this way, the flavor of the fruit becomes especially prominent. Red Poppy Ale is a veritable celebration of Sour Cherries in an explosion of aromas and tastes. Brewed from a brown ale base and aged in our oak barrels for over 6 months, this beer is not for the faint of heart.”

ABV: 5.0%

(12/29/2011)

475: Sierra Nevada/Abbey of New Clairvaux Ovila Abbey Dubbel

More in the way of the collaboration. This one couples Sierra Nevada with Abbey of New Clairvaux, although via the website for the beer, it looks more like 30th Anniversary Part II. But I digress—for the collaboration, all things are forgiven. And since we’re dealing with a project intended to rebuilt a Spanish monastery that was built in 1190 in Trillo, Spain, dismantled and moved to the United States by Randolph Hearst in the 1930s, and then abandoned until recently, the collabo seems like even more of a good thing—we’ll be looking for the Saison and the Quad that will follow the Dubbel. This is our first beer from Abbey of New Clairvaux (shocking, I know); from Sierra Nevada, we’ve tried Hoptimum 2011, 30th Anniversary Jack & Ken’s Black Barleywine, 30th Anniversary Our Brewers Reserve Grand Cru, Homegrown Estate Ale, 30th Anniversary Charlie, Fred, & Ken’s Imperial Helles Bock, Southern Hemisphere Harvest, Bigfoot, 30th Anniversary Fritz and Ken’s Ale, Kellerweis, Celebration, Torpedo Extra IPA, Anniversary Ale 2009 and Harvest Wet Hop Ale 2008. Or, like all of them.

Ovila Abbey Dubbel pours a hazy orange-ish copper with an off-white creamy head. Or, in other words, your classic dubbel—the only real difference is that this one is slightly cloudier than others we’ve tried. The nose is brown sugar and some dark fruit coupled with some perfume-y spiciness—which is what I believe the label refers to as black pepper, although I perceive it more as clove (which is also listed on the label). Or as Elli put it: “a little sugar, a little spice. You know, everything nice.” The aroma is a bit flat compared to some of the more famous dubbels, but it works well with the beer that it is. Flavors open with dried fruit and drier malt; the sweetness picks up in the middle and rounds out into fig fruitiness, although there is also apple and pear—there is a delicate component to this beer that leaves it lighter and more ephemeral than other dubbels. The finish is sweet but dry, in part from some of the alcohol flavor and warmth that slowly builds in the beer. The body is medium with a creamy and lightly spritzy mouthfeel—both help lighten and balance the beer, which, while it has substance, comes across as lighter compared to some of its Old World counterparts. Elli found that the lightness made it more drinkable, which I agree with, but it also limited some of the complexity that can be found in dubbels. This could, however, be a product of age—I’m willing to bet that in a year, the alcohol sharpness and warmth would recede and the fruit and malt complexity would reciprocally emerge, leaving a much more interesting beer in its wake. As is, however, Ovila is still an enjoyable beer that led to an interesting discussion of the style. And that is more than a hearty endorsement for any beer.

From the bottle: “A collaboration between Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. and the monks at the Abbey of New Clairvaux, Ovila Abbey Dubbel brings the centuries-old monastery brewing tradition to America. Ovila Abbey Dubbel features a complex and rich malty sweetness with hints of caramelized sugar. The aroma is a heady and layered mix of fruit and spice with hints of clove and black pepper from the unique Belgian-style yeast. A portion of the proceeds from this ale go toward the restoration of the historic Santa Maria de Óvila chapter house on the grounds of the Abbey of New Clairvaux. This medieval building stood for nearly eight centuries in Spain. William Randolph Hearst purchased the monastery in 1931 and planned to use the stones for a castle even grander than his famous San Simeon. Although Hearst’s plans crumbled, these historic stones will rise again in a California Cistercian abbey.”

From the website: “Ovila Abbey Dubbel is brewed in the abbey tradition, and perfect for the rebirth of spring. Clear and deep copper in color, this Abbey Dubbel has a complex and rich malty sweetness with hints of caramelized sugar. The aroma is a heady and layered mix of fruit and spice with hints of clove, raisin, and black pepper from the use of an abbey-style yeast.”

ABV: 7.5%

(5/1/2011)