Thursday, April 10, 2014

Telephone 26: Why Style Matters

          Stripped of its history and pedigree, style is a contract between producer and consumer. Style tells consumers that this beer is hoppy or this beer is malty or this beer is sour so that they can judge whether or not they want to purchase a given producer’s beer. Style thus indicates a set of characteristics connected to a particular type of beer, characteristics that should reciprocally inform consumer expectations. If I order an American IPA and it is more malt-forward than hop-forward, I am annoyed. Why? Because hops are the defining characteristic of an American IPA—hop aroma, hop flavor and hop bitterness—so there should be citrus, resin, and evergreen in the nose and body, along with a fair share of bitterness in the body and lingering bitterness in the finish. Malt may be present to provide balance and backbone, but everything in this beer is in the service of showcasing hops. Similarly, if I order an English Brown, the emphasis should be on the malt and not the hops—my expectations are that the beer will have a rich malt character with toffee, caramel, biscuit, and bread crust, along with hints of dark fruit and coffee. Chocolate and/or hop flavors would make this an American Brown, not an English one; a small claim to difference, certainly, but still one that matters. These expectations extend well beyond those connected to just flavor: a saison, for example, should have a dry body, while a Russian Imperial Stout should have a chewy, thick body. Clarity, color, carbonation level: they all connect back to style. This is the language of beer. It is the nomenclature we use to communicate regarding beer. To not attempt to educate yourself—to willfully disregard the established language of beer and pretend that it doesn’t matter—pretty much means that your interest in beer is insincere.
          So when I hear a brewer proclaim “I can’t be bothered with style” or “style limits my creativity,” all I hear is “I am a lazy brewer who doesn’t care about my customers.” If you want to experiment, go for it. Experimentation is fantastic. But market it as such. As a homebrewer, I brew all kinds of esoteric things: I spent all last year brewing Brettanomyces-only beers. But I’m brewing for myself, not customers. When commercial brewers decide to brew a random creation and slap a style name on it because they assume consumers won’t know the difference, they become part of the problem. The phrase “you need to know the rules before you can break the rules” may be cliché, but in this situation it has merit. Impress me with your ability to produce quality American Pale Ales or Oktoberfests that reflect established categories before you expect me to embrace your cutting edge ways. Respect your craft. To put it another way, while passion is important, so are skill and knowledge. After all, if you don’t have passion for beer, quite honestly, then you shouldn’t be brewing. Thus, if everyone has passion, then what will set you apart as a brewer is the skill and knowledge you use to craft your product. And one of the central components of beer skill and knowledge is an awareness of and respect for style. I wouldn’t pay a random stranger off the street to fix my car, regardless of the level of her or his passion for cars. The same holds true for beer. Passion alone has limitations. Just because you love beer doesn’t mean you can produce good beer. To those of you reading this, I suggest using the same rules of logic you all apply to other consumer goods when it comes to considering beer.
          To return to style, and the contract it represents between producers and consumers: breweries that disregard or blatantly ignore style when marketing their beer perform a disservice to craft beer. This point is important, so let me repeat it, as I want it to sink in. Breweries that ignore style—intentionally or unintentionally, it doesn’t matter—are hurting consumers in general and craft beer writ large. I speak here both ethically and economically. If good beer is a civic responsibility—and it is—then it behooves producers to perform their actions in good faith towards the consumer. While expediency is often the excuse, it doesn’t make it acceptable. Similarly, consumers who reward beers with excessive scores on social media sites when that beer clearly doesn’t fit the style, or who provide degradingly low scores for well-made beers because they dislike the brewery, are also part of the problem. Yes, you, with the straight 5s on Untappd, including similar scores for beers that are clearly infected, are part of the problem. Like and dislike are perfectly acceptable when hanging with friends who share similar ideas about beer. But when you are providing information to other consumers online, your opinion alone outside the parameters of style is not enough. After all, viewers seeing your comments don’t know whether or not you love or hate certain types of beer. And that type of information matters. Thus, you owe it to others consumers to provide appropriate information and feedback. In other words, you owe it to other consumers to know what you are talking about. Again, these are the ethical and economic dimensions of beer referred to above. Get educated. Learn. Otherwise, you’re a bad beer citizen who disregards and disrespects craft beer. Which leads me to next week’s topic: putting the craft in craft beer.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

June 2014 Rockit Cup: California Common

Once again, the Rockit Cup is back to screw up your neat and tidy brewing schedule. What, you don’t like that style? Too bad. Shut up and brew it anyway. And stop whining. Now you know why no one ever liked playing with you at recess. Anyway, what better way to usher in the fast approaching early summer months than by brewing one of the few styles indigenous to the continent? And remember, using this yeast will make your beer more lager-like than many other supposed actual lager beers.

Rockit Cup June 2014: California Common
OG: 1.051 @ 70% efficiency
FG: 1.012
IBU: 40
SRM: 5
ABV: 5.1%

6 lbs. Pale
3 lbs. Pilsner
1 ½ lbs. Dark Munich

Mash at 150˚ F for 60 minutes

½ oz. Northern Brewer @ 60
¾ oz. Northern Brewer @ 30
¾ oz. Northern Brewer @ 15

Wyeast 2112 California Lager
Ferment at 62˚ F

Carbonate to 2.5 volumes

California dreaming...

Saturday, April 5, 2014

AHA NHC Zanesville Beer Judging

This year’s version of the AHA NHC regional in Zanesville was much the same as last year: we were again located at Weasel Boy Brewing and Frank Barickman made plenty of bad jokes. Some things will never change. My compatriots in crime for the trip to Zanesville this year were Jake Browning and Jon Vanderglas. So basically a mini-YHCS roadtrip, since Chris Wyatt was in for the fun on Saturday.

So where to begin? How about four beer judging sessions in two days: two Friday and two Saturday. And two rough days it was: Friday was American Ales and IPAs while Saturday was Stouts and Strong Ales. So basically I drank through starter categories for home brewers on Friday, started with that again on Saturday, and closed out Saturday afternoon with even bigger beers with the Strong Ales. So Saturday was especially rough. As well, there was a lot more hot and fusel alcohols in the beers I judged this year; I’m not sure if I was just that unlucky, or there was some sort evil mojo curse circulating. Either way, after the two sessions on Saturday, I was in a bad place. So after a few rounds of our now-classic “Worst In Show” beer drinking game and the award segment of the evening, we opted to return to the hotel and drink Snakebites made with PBR and Woodchuck Granny Smith Cider. After all those big, dark, and burny beers earlier in the day, that PBR and Woodchuck went down like a dream. 

(4/4 & 5/2014)

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Telephone 25: So You Like Craft Beer?

One of my many insights from the Lexington Craft Writing: Beer, the Digital, and Craft Culture conference was that I should be doing more to contribute to writing about craft beer in an interesting and thoughtful manner. After all, I hang my hat upon my ability with words. So upon my return to Dayton, I contacted Telephone Weekly, a local magazine about writing a craft beer column for them. These are the results:

          I think beer is important. For good or for ill, beer-related activities consume a fair share of my waking hours: reading, brewing, judging, writing, ruminating, or even just drinking. And while my personal sentiments regarding beer are neither novel nor ground-breaking, beer matters. To put it bluntly, good beer is a civic responsibility. Think of it like voting, only more fun.
          Undoubtedly, beer as a symbol for the social fabric of community and nation will strike many as odd. Still, that belief informs my interest in beer; it is, after all, what led me to this column. As an advocate for local craft beer, I think that enthusiasm for craft beer is important, but without the reciprocal knowledge to complement that enthusiasm, you might as well throw your vote away. Similarly, beer cannot be divorced from the social, political, and economic factors that go into its production. Ignoring the ethical dimensions of beer production is not that different than naïve enthusiasm: it ignores communal obligation by ignoring the less pleasant features of the social contract. It may be your right to be a bad citizen—it’s a privilege, actually, but that’s another matter—but as my mother repeatedly reminded me during my childhood, just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you should. Thus, while I’d like to focus on providing readers with a greater context for local craft beer, I will not shy away from the thornier elements informing these issues at a local level: when appropriate, I’ll be critical of producers and consumers alike. Maybe I’ll burn some bridges along the way. Hopefully not, but who knows? I will say that craft beer—and here I am speaking of the philosophical idea of craft beer and not the actual nuts-and-bolts business side of the equation—matters more, specifically as it relates to the larger good of the community.
          Before getting to the job at hand, I’d like to offer a bit more regarding my personal background—the justificatory beer biography, so to speak. While I would like to pretend that my witty, clever repartee is more than enough to bring you all back for more, some divulgence of practical knowledge is no doubt also required. That, and as my editor will undoubtedly point out, journalistic integrity requires just such an accounting. I began homebrewing fifteen years ago; I moved to Dayton in 2006, and joined DRAFT, the local homebrew club. I’ve been blogging about beer since 2009. Additionally, I’ve been a beer judge through BJCP (Beer Judge Certification Program) for the last five years, and more recently, I’ve been involved with a couple of the new breweries that have opened: I volunteer at Yellow Springs Brewery when I can find the time, I’m on the Fifth Street Brewpub Co-op’s Beer Team, which tastes and troubleshoots pilot beer recipes with the head brewer (I’m also a co-op member), and I’m good friends with the new assistant brewer at Warped Wing. I initially met most of these people through DRAFT; as the Dayton beer community has expanded, so has my network of friends. Still, I am not paid by any of these entities—the University of Dayton pays my bills—so when I speak here, it is as a consumer advocate for local craft beer, not for any of these (or any other) specific institutions. From my perspective, smarter consumers means better beer: both producers and consumers have their part to play in developing Dayton’s beer scene.
          After all, it is an exciting time for beer in Dayton. When I first moved to Dayton, there wasn’t a brewery to be found; now, the greater Dayton metropolitan area is home to several breweries with more are on the way. However, while Dayton is now a beer town, it is not yet a good beer town. And it has a ways to go—quite a ways, in fact—to be considered a great beer town. I know that many people reading this will undoubtedly disagree. Vehemently, in fact. They’ll cite line and verse of all the great things Dayton breweries are doing, many of which I would undoubtedly agree with. At the same time, though, consumers have a responsibility to hold local breweries to a greater standard of quality—sure, local is great, but buying beer just because it is made locally regardless of quality is not: that’s called marketing. This tension between the enthusiasm for craft beer and the honest assessment of it as a commercial product is where the vast majority of productive conversation regarding local craft beer breaks down. When beer drinkers resort to parroting back marketing as self-evident truth, they choose to be cheerleaders for the economic interests of breweries and not consumers playing their part contributing to the development of local craft beer. Yes, breweries are businesses—they need to turn a profit to continue operating—but they should not turn that profit at the expense of the consumer. When I am served a beer from a local brewery that should have never been released to the public, I am left with one of two conclusions: either they don’t know enough about beer production to discern that there is a problem or they just don’t care about their customers. Neither prospect is flattering to the brewery, and yet this problem continues to happen—far more than I would care to admit, in fact. Given the enthusiasm surrounding craft beer in Dayton, we need a larger body of consumers willing to argue for quality, not just those willing to swallow the Kool Aid.
          To argue for quality requires treating beer as more than a fashion accessory—it means educating yourself as a consumer in order to take responsibility for helping to make things better. While I will talk more about this next week, part of the problem facing the Dayton beer community—whether intentionally or unintentionally—stems from a disregard or dismissal of beer style.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Hibiscus Saison Brewday

This is an experiment that I’ve been meaning to do for a while, but am only finally getting to it now. Nothing like adult obligations to put your life into perspective. Anyway, I am declaring this my Spring saisonal, the second saisonal of the year and the fourth beer in the ever-growing Great Saison Chain of Being. That beer does look a bit creepy in the carboy, doesn’t it?

173. Hibiscus Saison
Mash:
3 lbs. Dingemanns Pilsner
3 lbs. Best Malz Spelt
2 ¼ lbs MFB Pilsner
1 lb. Weyermann Acidulated
½ lb. flaked barley

Mash @ 151° F for 80 minutes w/ 3 gallons RO water & 5 g. gypsum; collected 1 ½ gallons @ 1.072
Batch sparge @ 168° F for 20 minutes w/ 4 gallons RO water & 5 g. gypsum; collected 4 gallons @ 1.024

Collected 5 ½ gallons; topped off to 6 ¾ gallons, brought to a boil (70 minutes), & added:
w/60 to go: 1 ½ oz. Willamette leaf 7.8% AA

w/15 to go: 1 oz. Styrian Golding pellet 2.0% AA

w/10 to go: 3 g. Wyeast yeast nutrient

½ lb. table sugar

w/0 to go: Styrian Golding pellet 2.0% AA
2.5 oz. hibiscus leaves

Let sit for 20 minutes; chilled and racked onto Yeast Bay Wallonian Farmhouse from 172. Saison

Primary: 3/17/2014 @ 72° F
Secondary: 4/12/2014 @ 1.004
Bottled: 6/2/2014 w/ 4 oz. table sugar

OG: 1.044
FG: 1.004

Tasting Notes: The idea behind this beer—using hibiscus in a saison—is good, but this particular version is not that good. I don’t like the Wallonian Farmhouse yeast (I didn’t like it much in 172 either), which probably colors my perception, although the hibiscus does cover over some of the burnt phenolics I get from the yeast in the other beer with this yeast. The beer pours a dirty pink, with a voluminous, long-lasting head that carries a slight pink hint. The nose is floral with a slight fruit tartness—I’d call it hibiscus, but that is a bit obvious—and some slight creaminess backed with pepper. The beer is bright and tart on the tongue—from both the hibiscus and the acidulated malt—with just a hint of body after the crisp bite from the carbonation. Flavors open with a floral fruitiness that is slightly cherry, and transition into pepper and dry cracker. The finish is rustic and a bit uneven—it is slightly scratchy via the carbonation, and not as clean as it needs to be, although there is a bit of lingering hibiscus sourness that makes up for it. There are some flavor components in the final third that I can’t quite put my finger on—a slight burnt flavor mixed with what I’ll labeling the intangible yeast elements—that make me label this beer pedestrian. The hibiscus components are solid; I’ll certainly revisit that part of this beer, as well as the grain bill. I’m just going to find another yeast to try, and maybe add something small like a couple grams of grains of paradise at flameout with the last hop addition. So close to wonderful, but missing that element that brings it all together. Stupid Wallonian Farmhouse. 

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Bockfest 2014 Beer Judging

This year I was a bit more mercenary in my Bockfest beer judging experience. There was no messing around afterwards and having a beer, no visit to the underground labyrinthine caves beneath the brewery, no trip to Party Source or 50 West, no ogling giant goat heads. Just judging. Drive down, judge some beer, drive home. I kinda liked the experience.

Like last year, I judged Bock beers; I was paired with Scott Lafollette, who runs the show at Blank Slate, and a third judge whose name embarrassingly escapes me. Oh well. My shame is now publicly acknowledged, so I can move on. Anyway, as per usual, Scott was an excellent judge partner, as was our to remain nameless third judge partner. So after we rolled through our section of the flight, I left Scott to mini-BOS judging and got the hell out of town. Back to the DYT.

(3/8/2014)

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Saison Brewday

Being that this is the year of the saison around these parts, I’m putting another yeast into the mix today: Yeast Bay’s Wallonian Farmhouse. Chalk this up to round three of the Great Saison Chain of Being, and shake that stick again. 

172. Saison
Mash:
6 lbs. MFB Pilsner
3 lbs. Best Malz Spelt
1 lb. Weyermann Acidulated
½ lb. flaked barley

Mash @ 151° F for 90 minutes w/ 3 gallons RO water & 5 g. gypsum; collected 1 ½ gallons @ 1.080
Batch sparge @ 169° F for 20 minutes w/ 4 gallons RO water & 5 g. gypsum; collected 4 gallons @ 1.024

Collected 5 ½ gallons; topped off to 7 gallons, brought to a boil (90 minutes), & added:
w/60 to go: 2 oz. Willamette leaf 7.8% AA

w/20 to go: 1 oz. Willamette leaf 7.8% AA

w/10 to go: 1 oz. Styrian Golding leaf 2.9% AA
1 White Labs Servomyces capsule
½ lb. table sugar

w/0 to go: 1 oz. EKG leaf 5.41% AA

Chilled, racked to carboy, and pitched Yeast Bay Wallonian Farmhouse

Primary: 3/5/2014
Secondary: 3/17/2014
Bottled: 4/12/2014 w/ 4.0 oz. table sugar

OG: 1.052
FG: 1.006

Tasting Notes: