Two potential 'restoratives' adorn the bar of John Pomeroy
Photo by John Pomeroy
Historically, beer has - apart from being an intoxicant - more often than not been a practical solution to some impediment otherwised faced by primitive man, even through to fiarly recent times.
As recently as 1909, various breweries were producing milk stout, which is made using lactose - a non-fermentable that adds depth and sweetness, as well as calories. They claimed that it was a beer for all; for invalids and workers alike. Nursing mothers were purportedly encouraged to imbibe this beverage for its 'healthy properties'.
Now while the positive aspects of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome are no longer supported by medicine or even marketing, one can't help but wonder at what various 'restorative' properties a brew - in this case, a stout - can possess. Which brings attention to new seasonal arrivals, Brooklyn Brewery's Black Chocolate Stout, and Southern Tier's Imperial Choklat Stout.
The primary difference between the two is that Brooklyn's Black Chocolate Stout is chocolate only in name and in flavor profile; there is no actual chocolate used in the brewing process. Simply a roasted barley that is burnt enough to assume the hints of chocolate that its name suggests, while predominant in good stouts anyway - are particularly pronounced in this award-winning brew from Brooklyn. It pours jet black, with a thin tan head that in a brief period of time fades into the blackness of the beer. Upon sipping, one soon recognizes the significans of its chocolate moniker; it's almost like a burnt dark chocolate, bitter and with subtle notes of coffee.
Southern Tier, however, uses real bittersweet Belgian chocolate in their Imperial Stout, which at a whopping 11% ABV commands a large presence anyway. It is recommended to be careful when opening this bottle, particularly when using a plastic beer opener; though the Simpson's quotes might be amusing, it simply cannot stand against the crown-cap of this bottle, whose sealing process alone packs a punch.
The brew pours as closely to purely black motor oil as one can get; its viscosity can be likened to that of watery maple syrup, which barely wishes to leave the bottle. If one awaits a lustrous head while pouring, one shall be left wanting; for there is scarce any to be seen. At most, a thin lace briefly flits across the surface of the dark, dark stout, then drowns in its abyss as quickly as it appears. The aroma is purely of chocolate; it's as though liquid milk chocolate of the highest quality is in a glass, and it will draw the drinker to simply smell the beer for a few minutes before daring to sip.
But when it is sipped... it remains. Its body is as giant as the viscous pour suggests, and coats the mouth for certainly at least a few minutes after drinking. One is left with a rich aftertaste, reminiscent somewhat of bitter black coffee, with traces of the chocolate still evident.
Though it is not in any way indicative of being a healthy beverage, Southern Tier Imperial Choklat Stout can safely be recommended as a cure for a chilly Cape Cod night – particularly a Thursday, alone, with naught else but a book.
Cape Cod Craft Beer Examiner John Pomeroy does some light research
Photo by John Pomeroy
When Jim Koch founded Boston Beer Company in 1984, he brought to the table $100,000 of his own capital, a Harvard education, five years experience as a business consultant, and his genuine passion for good-tasting beer; beer that wasn’t necessarily Rocky-Mountain Cold. While some of these attributes held more sway over the family members and friends he’d convinced to loan him the other $140,000, confident in his business plan and his ability, it is the latter of these traits –his passion for beer-which continues, 25 years later, to lure new beer drinkers to his brand every day. That and possibly the George Thorogood tune “Who Do You Love?”
Now, Samuel Adams now offers around 30 assorted brews, from the modest Boston Lager, to the profoundly extreme Sam Adams Utopia. Their capacity and present buying power has allowed the Boston Beer Company to transform what was, twenty years ago, a domestic beer that cost 15% more than an import, into an affordable rendition of some of the varied beer styles which America’s burgeoning craft beer scene has to offer. While its beers may not offer the trademark Pac-man Yeast of Rogue’s, or the Off-Centered attitude of Dogfish, what they do offer is a basic, accessible “microbrew” for the uninitiated Macro-Masses to indulge in. More than a delightful glass of suds, Sam Adams is a portal through which many drinkers – young and old – might catch a glimpse of the world beyond Bud.
News of Dogfish Head founder and co-author of the book He Said Beer, She Said WineSam Calagione and founder of Sierra Nevada Brewing Company Ken Grossman uniting to create a beer has been circulating various internet forums and beer periodicals for long enough, and as the release date for the brew draws nearer, the excitement seems to grow.
Ken Grossman is undeniably a pioneer in the field of Craft Beer, whose brewery began thirty-years ago in 1979 in Chico, California, and whose flagship Sierra Nevada Pale Ale helped to mature the palates of beer drinkers nationwide. His brewery strives to continue to produce with the same level of quality and consistency from batch to batch as they did from their humble beginnings, releasing their default line-up as well as a series of seasonals and specialty brews.
Sam Calagione, whose obsession with beer is more recent than that of his new cohort, began Dogfish Head in 1995. However, his passion for "Off Centered Ales", as his slogan suggests, makes him in his own way a pioneer of the industry as well. They've brewed beers with everything from juniper berries, Chrysanthemums, blueberries, and in general things found in 9,000 year old pots.
So it should come as no surprise to learn that the new ale from the duo, which weighs in at an impressive 10% approximate ABV, possesses a profile which truly fits is out-there moniker. Brewed using pure Massachusetts maple syrup from Calagione's family, and with malted barley from Grossman's neck-of-the-woods in California, the coup de grace in this already arboreal beer is that it is naturally carbonated with birch syrup from Alaska - a fact which no other known breweries may boast.
In this video, an exuberant Sam Calagione discusses the union, as well as other craft-brewing-related topics, at the Blind Tiger in New York:
There will be a release party on November 15th in New York City, the only time that Calagione & Grossman will be speaking together on the East Coast, however it has already sold all 70 tickets.
While a growing trend in the American Craft Brewing world seems to indicate a preference for insanely hopped, IBU-crazy India Pale Ales, and brews made with chocolate, peaches, coffee, seemingly ad infinitum, there are those who intend specifically to brew just beer. While the phrase 'just beer' might at first seem to imply the beer is in some way diminuitive, pioneers such as Samuel Adams seek to stretch rebelliously against the boundaries of even 'just beer'.
In Bavaria, in April of 1516, the German Beer Purity Law, or Reinheitsgebot, stated that all beers must be made with nothing more than water, barley, & hops. Samuel Adams has recently disclosed that they've partnered with Weihenstephan in order to create a beer which they hope to release in Spring of 2010. With this beer, the companies intend to push the boundaries of what is commonly perceived to be the limitations of Reinheitsgebot, while at the same time adhering to this law, creating a beer with an ABV of 10%, with Champagne-like qualities.
Simply because a beer is fairly strict to the laws set forth in Bavaria nearly five-hundred years ago, however, does not mean that it cannot possess unique qualities, nor does it make a beer taste "commonplace". The wheat beer style in general, which has been popularized by American brands such as Samuel Adams, that produce Samuel Adams Hefeweizen, continues to thrive. These brands are essentially beacons that draw attention to the style, enough so that a consumer might delve deeper and glean more from the World of Weiss than they originally intended.
Franziskaner Hefe-Weiss, brewed by Spaten-Franziskaner-Bräu, is a beer which proudly claims to be dutiful upholders of the German Beer Purity Laws. It's often seen served in a 1 pint, 9 fl oz bottle featuring the image of an imbibing Franciscan Monk, illustrated in 1935 by a Munich artist named Ludwig Hohlwein, to honor that which the brewery's original incarnation in 1363 was named for.
There is a traditional method to pouring the beer which was designed, apparently, to better preserve and accentuate flavors in the wheat beer. The method involves trying to procure as little head as possible, and is humorously demonstrated in this video, showing a robot programmed by two Bavarian university students to "perfectly" pour a Weissbier:
The amyl acetate, which is a fermentation by-product prevalent in the style, adds a very detectable trace of something very banana-like in the beer, which becomes particularly prominent as the brew's temperature increases as it sits unrefrigerated in the glass. Its cloudy, nearly opaque appearance caused by the wheat, gives mystery to the brew; a mystery solved only by sipping.
Franziskaner Hefe-Weiss might be traditional in its production, in its packaging, and in its labeling, but what stands out about this beer is that inside there is an acclaimed, well-rated beer worth drinking, retailing at little more than $3.00 for a 1pt 9 fl oz bottle.
Originally posted on Examiner.com (link probably not live yet)
While most beer enthusiasts will defend their year-round brews of choice, it almost can’t be denied that most lovers of beer also possess a fascination with seasonal beers; that is, beers brewed with specifications in mind that associate them with whatever respective season in which they were brewed.
For the most part, it seems that distribution in general of limited release beers (in particular for the fall) such as Samuel Adams Octoberfest and the increasingly popular Shipyard Pumpkinhead, is the determining factor in their time period in retail coolers & bars. For while demand seems only to increase, supply remains stagnant, until eventually production and shipping cease, and the last few stalwart fans of these Autumnal brews deplete package store inventories until the winter brews arrive.
It is winter beers, however, that are the easiest to “pair” with the season, so to speak. They typically are made dark, rich, and strong. In fact, in terms of strength and nomenclature there is perhaps no beer more relatable to Winter & the Holidays than Samichlaus Bier by Schloss Eggenberg, whose name translates from Zurich German to English to mean “Santa Clause”, and whose ABV is typically 14% (though sometimes approaching 15%). However, at an average retail price of over $20.00 for a four-pack, this malt-liquor has a greater propensity for collecting dust than for whetting whistles.
There is, however, a pantheon of slightly more affordable & practical winter beers to look forward to enjoying this holiday season, which include the staples Sam Adams Winter Lager, Blue Moon Full Moon Ale, Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale, and now a newcomer which has only recently hit package stores, despite its availability on tap for some time:
Magic Hat Howl
For 2009, Magic Hat has replaced Jinx with a new Schwarzbier or Black Lager called Howl. Its label is reminiscent of the foggy streets of London, and can call to mind simultaneously both imagery from a Dickens novel and disturbing tales of Jack the Ripper. It doesn’t hurt that Magic Hat has also devoted an entire page on their website to the new brew, complete with the recitation of a dark poem, and the ambient sort of music that one would expect to find in a classic horror film. The beer itself is nearly as dark as it is presented; a brown so bleak as to be confused with black, and an aroma too that can only best be described as dark. It is all roasted malt, with enough hop to provide something of an edge. It as is smooth as it is dark, not hurt by the fact that its ABV is unusually low for a wintry beer at 4.6% ABV.
Other than Sam Adams Black Lager and to some extent Saranac Black Forest, there is a scarcity of this dark style in the U.S. market. Many American beer enthusiasts welcome the new Black Lager, and Magic Hat’s Howl provides a solid vessel through which to reintroduce Americans to the Schwarzbier.
On September 8th, 2004, I began my employment at a liquor store in West Yarmouth. Adorning the upper-middle shelf of Aisle 5, on its left-hand side (if you're coming from the beer cooler) was a four-pack of beer called Samichlaus Bier. On September 9th, 2004, I became aware of and simultaneously fascinated with this brew.
Prior to my tenure in the industry, I'd always simply thought of beer as just that - beer. Something Uncles drink at barbecues, and which my Auntie Jeannie likes to have a few of with her bologna sandwiches. At the time, if it wasn't the King of Beers, I could scarcely tell it apart from anything else on the shelf. But in my first day working the bottle-redemption center, I'd seen enough beer labels to ascertain that beer is usually about 5% ABV. Which is why, when I spotted the (boldly) printed Alcohol Content of 14 percent, I was intrigued. Then upon glancing down at the price of $21.99+ deposit for FOUR beers... I was really curious. I mean, if Budweiser was the King of Beers, why was a sixer of that only $5.80 plus deposit, and this mystery brew so much more for so much less! It just didn't add up. I shared this sentiment with my friend and co-worker Andrew, whose knowledge of beer was stronger than mine, but who still found Samichlaus intriguing.
Five years and probably two hundred forty-eight thousand beers later, my knowledge and palate have both, at least somewhat, evolved. At least enough to the point where with beers like Dogfish Head's Worldwide Stout and Sam Adams' Utopia in existence, all of a sudden that Samichlaus didn't seem so bizarre. However, in these five years, I had acquired not only a breadth of beer knowledge, but an inordinate amount of bills and debts to pay off. Therefore, I'd be damned before I'd spend $25 bucks on four 11.2 oz bottles of beer. In case you're curious, that means that for every sip I would theoretically take, I could consider myself $0.55 less wealthy.
So for now, I was happy - at least relatively so. With no money yesterday, I still had a few brews in my fridge. Granted, they were all of my last resort leftovers from various mix packs. But I wasn't without beer. All be it some of New York's finest. Can't knock Genesee though - remember how Samichlaus is about $0.55 per sip? I ran some calculations of Genesee, and right now it's about $0.55 per can. Even if it tasted like piss, it'd be a fair consideration for quaffing.
Yes, I was satisfied with my cheapies.
Yesterday, however, upon casually noticing at work that the shelf-talker I'd put up for Samichlaus was off-center, and after re-adjusting it, I stared at the four-pack. When was I... or rather, was I ever going to try Samichlaus? Or was it going to be an elusive concept until the end of my days? But as quickly as that terrifying thought swept my conscious mind, so too did the consequent revelation: yesterday was November 2nd - Andrew's birthday! A man with whom I'd shared this fascination, and with whom over the course of the years I'd become very close - close enough to live with him, anyway.
And before you ask, we're not that close. I do have a girlfriend.
Knowing the child-like smile I'd be putting on my now 24-year old buddy was almost enough motivation to purchase it for him as a gift. However... knowing his generosity would allow for no other alternative than to share it with me was DEFINITELY ENOUGH MOTIVATION.
Fast forward four hours, twenty-five dollars, and one hasty wrap-job later, Andrew's first words upon opening his gift in front of me were: "Shut the fuck up" - a heart-warming sentiment!! Gleefully, he insisted that we drink some of this malt liquor together, and watch a movie I'd never seen before called American Psycho.
Now, if you've never seen this film before, then you're probably not thinking much at this point. However, if you have, then you're most likely realizing what I eventually knew - a highly alcoholic beverage mixed with such a bizarre, high-octane movie, creates a mood almost as insane as the tone of that film. After my first glass and a half, I found myself feeling capable of performing what Patrick Bateman did in the following clip.
Patrick Bateman, despite his faults, did have a few pearls of wisdom, not counting his knowledge of Whitney Houston tracks. During one scene, he encourages a prostitute he dubs Christy to bend over, so that the other prostitute he calls Sabrina might "See her asshole". There was a brief period of time where Sabrina stares at Christy's nether-regions, clearly very unsure about the next step. After his seemingly mundane diatribe, Bateman asserts possibly his greatest line in the film:
"Sabrina, don't just stare at it; eat it!"
After my laughter and mild applause, it occurred to me that I could make a very fitting metaphor with this scenario and apply it to my experiences with Samichlaus.
I can consider myself, obviously, to be Sabrina. Samichlaus Bier would be, in this case, Christy's asshole.
Now although sometimes a decision is hard to make, sometimes you've got to make it. Expensive though it may be, monetarily or otherwise, it's got to be done. Otherwise you just go your whole life staring at it, wondering what it might taste like. And the only way to know for sure is to submit to Patrick Bateman's goading.
Which is why I can proudly say - I have tasted the asshole, and it is good.
Like some men can say proudly, "I am a man of God", I can with equal zeal say "I am a man of Whiskey." My love for whiskey - bourbon in particular - is perhaps the only reason why the alcoholic "burn" of this malt liquor didn't singe my tonsils. Upon opening the bottle, the smell does tend to pervade the nostrils. It, to some extent, masks any trace of malt, hops... anything reminiscent of beer. But upon closer inspection, I tended to detect something dark and sinister, yet oddly soothing in the bouquet. How appropriate that we cracked this open while watching American Psycho? Perhaps that's where I draw my sinister thoughts from. Or perhaps it's from the deeply black bottle, with a simple black label, void of much decoration aside from the silver lettering and the boldly stated ABV.
It's taste is as dark, if not darker, than the odor. Like some dark, fruity licorice that's been in the microwave for eleven seconds, then in the freezer for five. It is good - as good as I expected - and dangerously so. Despite its intoxicating factors, it is as smooth as the Genesee I'd been drinking prior, and less astringent. Tempted though I was to quaff this, its alcohol content and its cost prevented me from doing so. One glass lasted me a two-hour long movie. I suspect that when I buy my own four-pack someday, I will keep it for a few years, just to see what happens.
