[A Beer a Day] La Folie Sour Brown Ale (2010) | New Belgium Brewing | Fort Collins, CO

The two things that make up 99% of the content on [An Avenue] are music and beer.  Its a bit of an obvious statement that one, but where I'm going with that is: these two subjects are highly personal things, and people prefer their own spectrum and ranges within these two areas;  those again being music and beer.

Sometimes, I'm completely fucking befuddled how someone couldn't completely swag their bodies all the way down to their knees when something like Of Montreal's Suffer for Fashion finds its way into their specific aural boundaries.  But I've been near such an inert human being whose sensibilities are offended by a shrieking, strident Kevin Barnes.  It just doesn't suit their neural palates, and I totally understand.  I get it.  I mean, I like totally loathe Stevie Ray Vaughan, but admitting that kind of information, especially in Austin, Texas, is likely to get my ass stripped of my residency.  I would literally have to register as part of the Taliban and be subjected to David Gray all day long.  But I get it.  Music -- like beer -- is highly individualized, and any indignation against your personal preferences is like an f-bomb email attack that you can't wait to reply to.

Sour beers have lately become all-the-rage in the brewing world -- but there was a time in the recent past that these goblins were considered the Of Montreal of Beer.  They were tart and tang, snappish and inharmonious -- and lets be honest, they are flavored by letting bacteria basically rot the product.  Well, in my opinion, that was everything that you needed to love about them -- an imperfect climax of sweet cherry, brettanomyces, and wine tannins.  I was absolutely hooked from the very first sample I had of Russian River's Consecration.

Unfortunately, those of us outside of a very small geographical area are not subjected to its greatness -- which is why we have to find other outlets.  More and more brewers are beginning to get their feet wet with sours now that the ancillary beer crowd is becoming more aware of its genius -- and, like Chicago, the second city to Consecration's New York is New Belgium's La Folie.

Recently, Melissa had been whining about the pervasive lack of Jester King's Das Wonderkind (sour) around the city, and so I offered accommodation in the form of a bottle that I had been storing in The Cellar for a couple of years: a 2010 La Folie Sour Brown Ale.

The thing with sours is that they are so fucking unpredictable.  They have the emotional grip of a pregnant woman, and with that, I didn't really know if this 700+ day-old bottle of beer would hold up over time.  I popped it to find out, knowing that under-delivery of the target sour beer would be like dealing with Melissa's metaphoric pre-natal undercurrents.  Standing between these two was like having teenage daughters sharing the same room.  Just pour the fucking beer, dad!

Let me express to you the best I can:  2010 La Folie was FUCKING perfect.  And I'm being honest here, it easily rivaled Consecration with the grace of a Claudette Colbert.  La Folie was absolutely charming: sweet but strong, delicate but tart in just its peripheries.

Typically when I un-earth these bottles aging in my cellar, I don't really miss them after enjoying them.  But this is definitely one I wish I could have another shot at.  I made sure to stock an La Folie 2012 in an attempt to find another Ingrid Bergman or Greta Garbo in a bottle.

ABV: 6.o%
Acquired: Spec's
★★★★★★★★★★

[A Beer a Day] Longshot American Homebrew Contest | Boston Beer Company | Boston, MA

So, I've been taking a bit of time off from [An Avenue] to re-evaluate what the whole point of starting this project was -- and to determine what the ultimate goal will be, apart from writing 1200 words a day that will basically sit in the deep, dark, fecal depths of the webiverse.

Nobody likes to read prose without a story arc and I felt that reviewing a bunch of unattainable beers everyday was starting to seem like a David Fincher script that never satiates the audience and gets very confusing and muddled --  just before it gets boring and overstated -- leading to the infamous crash-and-burn in the box office.  Nobody can really root for Fincher because he keeps givin' us the business every time.

The primary reason I started this page as a New Years resolution is because I needed to have demonstration of my work in print.  But why?

About a year and a half ago, I applied for the open editor position at Austin's Eater.com, hoping that my beguiled wit (although VERY hastily constructed between real-life obligations) was enough to convince the previous editor to hand me fistfuls of cash and the chance to replace her as the authority on Austin's kitchen and lounge scene.

Obviously, since I'm still tip-tapping away in an office that reeks of pink cafeteria slime -- and not at an east side cafe dissecting a wood-fired salt bagel and a Cuvee Maritage espresso, I didn't succeed at that particular mission.  I didn't have a degree in journalism, I didn't have experience, and I sure-as-shit didn't even meet the bare minimum of narrating a personal weblog.  In other words, I was a positively pathetic candidate -- if you can even go so far as to denote myself as such.  I needed to give them something to root for.

And so here I am.  The Longshot.  And this is what I'm talking to you about today.

I think by now, if you've read this far into today's entry, you are somewhat of an interested reader. and I can reasonably count on you knowing my ambiguous thoughts about Samuel Adams and the Boston Beer Company in general.

In my head, the brewery's product is like a Skittle® brisket -- which would induce immediate retching of the bowels at first mention of such a disgusting product.  However, when the company is anatomized, you can really see the art of their delivery, and at times, they do good work.  At the very least, they have really good ideas, even thought the execution usually falls tremendously flat.

This is one of Sam Adams BBC's better ideas:  A homebrew contest (much like their B'Austin crowd sourced beer) that would give the amateur brewer a chance to hit the jackpot and have their product called up from Single A right into the Big Show..  

Sam Adams BBC ran with three recipes that they appeared to like the best -- and also saw the commercial opportunities for, obvs -- in the form of A Dark Night in Munich Dunkel, Five Crown Imperial Stout, and Derf's Secret Altbier.   Awesome.  And each of these dudes even get to have their provocative mugs printed right on the bottle, too!

So, I settled in to watch some world football, American style (which by and far, is the biggest longshot in this entire blog entry) and see the potential that batted these guys into the major leagues.

Every one of them looks like they should be shopping with their moms at the Container Store.

Herp.

Up first, was A Dark Night in Munich, a dunkel style that doesn't get a lot of run from American Microbrews, but is one of the more spectacular Germany inventions along with the bicycle, the MP3, and gummy worms.  I don't often drink imported beers, but when I do, I drink dunkels.

A Dark Night in Munich is surprisingly spot on with some of the Bavarian dunkels I've had, and, to be honest better than the dunkels I had in Frankfurt (though I realize this is not the primary region for this beer style).

As I've discussed before, I'm a big fan of balanced, malty beers, and ADNIM really piques my interest with its baked-breadiness and sweet yeasts.  Its really rich and creamy without being a heavy beer at all, like a well-crafted wiesse beer.

ABV: 5.9%
★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Derp.

I thought that since we were already off to a good start, I would open the second bottle right away to keep the momentum.  The first two things I noticed about the next bottle -- sampled in a semi-appropriate progression of lightest-in-color to darkest -- was that the ABV was a sticker-shocking 9.3% (is this the heaviest alcohol beer that Sam Adams brews?  I think so.), and that the name, Derf's Secret Alt, was really really fucking nerdy.  But I was willing to proceed for science. 

I'm not a huge fan of Altbiers -- Dusseldorf's response to rival Cologne's wildly popular Kolsch beers -- but I've enjoyed a few on rare occasion.  This was about how I remembered the average ones -- too sharp on the tongue, too malted, and grassy.  I also thought the color wasn't dark enough, which led me to believe it was void of chocolate and caramel notes.  They were kind-of there if I was really searching for them -- but searching for that little nuance was like inspecting the stitches of a Rob Dibble fastball.  Look too closely, and your ass is gonna get fucking beaned.

ABV: 9.3%
★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆

Herp derp.

I was a little bit buzzed after downing the first two in the 90 minutes it took for the US to totally fuck up a 1-0 lead, and so I took halftime off to eat a sandwich and revitalized my palate a bit -- because what was coming was a huge hill to climb with only testicles for legs.


Imperial stouts are damn near one of my favorite things in life, along with Texas football, 100-person gigs, Franklin brisket, and loitering with MelEnzo Magee.  Its an exceptional style -- rich, creamy and boozy with nuts, chocolate, and burnt coffee notes.  It swims to your stomach like a wolverine.


Five Crown Imperial Stout is definitely a well-scripted beer.  It has all the qualities of a nice Imperial Stout, but i have to note that it certainly has that mass-produced flatness that is rarely apparent in the small batches that the little guys do.  I'd actually really love to taste Joe Longshot's original creation to see how heavily Sam Adams BBC influenced his beer.  And c'mon, a homebrewed Imp Stout?  That is just like fucking magic and genius all in one.  I don't think I've heard of such a thing -- so this guy definitely gets a gold star to defend against the terrorists, whom hate both fun and beer.  I would like to buy and drink this in the privacy of my home again.

ABV: 8.9%
★★★★★★★★☆☆

To conclude, I thought that this was a really brilliant gimmick by Sam Adams BBC to not only publish these Longshot homebrews, but to distribute them into a mix-pack (because one of the saddest things about beer shopping in Texas is, although completely legal, most places are unwilling to let you produce your own delicious adult hurricanes from the beer rack).  Maybe Sam Adams BBC did a bit too much editing though.  I've said it before, maybe its time for Jim Koch to hand over the keys to the brewery -- it appears that his fan base has surpassed his abilities and creativity.  

[A Beer a Day] Cutthroat Porter | Odell Brewing | Fort Collins, CO

I don't feel especially talkative today, so to reflect my mood, I'm going to present a beer that really speaks for itself.

First, I'll let you know that Odell is far and away my favorite Colorado brewer.

That sounds like a fairly insignificant statement considering Colorado is a state roughly the same size as Alabama and South Carolina, and smaller than Massachusetts, Tennessee, and Maryland.  However, Colorado also happens to be the beer mecca of the universe, so this is like saying Gary Oldman is my favorite actor in Hollywood.

Odell makes very straight forward, principled beers.  They make a wheat, they make an IPA, they do a pale ale, an amber, and a porter**.  None of those beers are infused with strawberries, or pecans, or rose hips; or aged in whiskey oak barrels or inside of small Laotian boys -- nope, none of that shit.

Now, I'm not saying that all of those things aren't delicious additives (maybe not the Laotions -- but we'll have to wait for Brew Dog to tell us at some point); I celebrate the entire flavor catalog, however, at times we as beer fans get so lost in the muddle, that we forget what an honest pint of beer tastes like.

Cutthroat Porter is exactly what Odell brewing represents.  When I first opened the bottle and took a anticipatory taste, I was actually puzzled that I did not have to wade through layers and layers of flavors.  I had honestly forgotten what a true porter actually tasted like.  It was perfect.

Cutthroat Porter has all the qualities of an authentic London porter -- one of the world's great styles -- with heaps of roasted malts, a hint of fresh brewed coffee, and a swirl of cocoa.  Its a dark beer that drinks light and it wouldn't be too difficult to soldier through an entire six-pack during the moguls event at the Sochi Olympics.

And here is the really, really good news:  Austin just landed one of Odell's brewers, who moved to our shire to open up what is essentially going to be a Pizza Port clone.  That is win-fucking-win on so many spectacular levels.

Additionally, the rumor on the webernet is that Odell will enter the Texas market in due time.  Now, normally, I would dispel those rumors until I saw a Facebook picture of cargo ready to be shipped to The Great State from Fort Collins, however, this is the same source that broke the Ballast Point and Alaskan news.  So, you know, giggity.

ABV: 5.1%
Acquired: New Mexico
★★★★★★★★☆☆
 
**Sure, at times -- like any other US brewer -- Odell will get a bit cray with a small-batch series, but nothing that is even THAT over the top, really.

[A Beer a Day] Temptation Wine Barrel Aged Wild Ale | Russian River Brewing | Santa Rosa, CA

... no I've never met anyone quite like you before ...

Would you, dependable reader, like an alcohol-filled grin on your booze-relaxed face?  When you consume intoxicants, do you wonder how you can negotiate both wine AND beer into a common glass?  And finally, do you love fun, use your phone's camera on landscape view, and enjoy passing out like your mother in a rain of nickels?

Then, Russian River Brewery is just the kind of natural progression you need to make into the twenty-teens era of boozing.  Its like, the future and shit.

As you might already know, Russian River is responsible for the majority of the beer-loving country losing their beer minds once a year -- and then also responsible for maintaining that momentum in the form of the country's most stalked beer, and in between that madness, rousing everyone up in a heap of laundry with their -tion series, which is what we have here.

I've avowed my love for the Russian River -tion series on this weblog before, and Temptation is just another in the collection that makes me wonk out with my mouth agog, like a southern baptist in the Big City.

This particular rendition, Temptation, is an American wild ale that has been aged in French oak Chardonnay barrels collected from the very wine-fertile region of Northern California.  Wild ales are like a sub genre of craft brewing -- as in, a more customized, unpredictable, and delicate beer brewed in the smallest of batches -- all the while produced by industry that prides itself on limited product anyway.  In other words, making this stuff takes a lot of time, patience, risk, and knowledge in order to squeeze even just a little bit of blood from the turnip.

Wild ales are manufactured by storing an unfermented base beer  in vessels -- like an oak wine cask -- for an extended period of time and allowing it to spontaneously ferment by introducing wild yeasts and bacteria, giving it its distinct sour profile.  The level of talent required to produce this style are almost immeasurable.  There is no real way to control a beer that is essentially spoiling with bacteria, therefore, there is a ton of artistry and knowledge (and a lot of luck) required to not only make it consumable, but also consistently consumable.  Russian River wrote the later chapters in the book of Sours and Wild Ales, right where the Belgians and their lambics left off; and Russian River's skill is truly unrivaled in the brewing community.

As for Temptation specifically, well, it sings.

The beer spends a full year aging in its wooden home, infusing all of the vanilla and fruit notes of the oak. Its dry and crisp and not at all buttery the way a glass of California Chardonnay might present itself typically.  This particular -tion is not as sour as, say, Consecration, but it definitely has a nice brett back.  As it warms, it gets a bit denser in flavors and loses a bit of its tart while a smooth funkiness emerges. 

While not my favorite in the Russian River wine-barrel series, Temptation is so far and away superior to the "best of" anything any other American brewer is putting out in this category.  If you can find it -- actually, if you can find ANY Russian River wherever you may be looking -- grab it.  It will never disappoint.

ABV: 7.25%
Acquired: An Austin Bar
★★★★★★★★★☆

[A Beer a Day] Mole Beers : El Mole Ocho & Cocoa Mole | New Holland Brewing / New Belgium Brewing | Holland, MI / Ft. Collins, CO

One trend that I've been noticing lately is the newly-acceptable arranged marriage between the Royal Family of Food with the homely, dowrybride of the Beer Bourgeois.

Once subjected to the ridicules of its feudalist wine relatives living high up in the castle, The Beer Bourgeois have recently elevated its caste position in society, becoming much more affiliated with culinary pairings and bi-annual festivals -- once earmarked solely for its kith and kin of the intoxicants community.

Whilst wine was living in perfect harmony with fish and cheeses and pastas, The Knights of the Spirits Templar were rousing the characteristics of beef and chocolates and other components of a manly diet.  Beer serfs were reduced to gullet-slumming with bratwurst, hamburgers, pizza, and the accompanying corn-and-rice-extender beverages.

Despite the general befitting of those ideas, beer was determined to be something more than a palate cleanser to savory foods.

Now, we are in the midst of a craft brewer renaissance -- and pairing beer with culinary boards ordinarily reserved for high-end distills and fermentations can be as elegant as a Araujo Eisele Cabernet Savignon and an artisan cheese plate. American craft beer has developed its palatal profile to be as complex -- and in many cases, MORE complex -- than its counterparts, and chefs are intrigued enough to pair their craft with the Vaishya of the adult beverage world.

With this newly found acceptance into the culinary club, brewers began fiddling around much more with food-based beer recipes.  Where once you might see a simple smoked porter, now one has the potential to find a brisket-infused rauchbier.  In some cases, brewers are simply circumventing the whole beer-and-food-pairing movement and just conjoining everything right into a single bottle of goodness.

Coincidentally, I've been able to sample a half dozen (or so) of these extreme beers -- and more specifically, I've encountered a recipe that keeps popping up in the periphery of bottle shop shelves: Mole beers. 











This is a bottle that I picked up in Michigan last summer while camping in Holland, near the coast of Lake Michigan.  New Holland Brewing is one of my favorite US brewers.  It is for all intents, one of the nation's most overlooked breweries (well, kinda, since the distribution is relatively small -- but I'm talking more in terms of dialogue between beer nerds; overlooked).  I'm always seeking out whatever goods they're slangin' whenever I get up north.

This particular brew is from their High Gravity Series, which is best known for their Dragon's Milk Barrel Aged Stout, which I love like someone might love their favorite song.  Its great, it comes from great minds, and I was so very excited to try this edition in this series -- a firelit Michigan night, some summer iPod jams, and a very proximate place to pass the fuck out when I start to get a bit puzzleheaded.

One caveat:  I do not like regular, solid-state mole.  Chicken and chocolate sauce just kinda ain't my thing.  But I know that it has high culinary merits, and I expected to really delve into the nuances given that there was no chance of this tasting like chicken and chocolate sauce and barf.

Ironically, I think I might have preferred the above composite to what I was now subjecting myself to after popping the bottle and taking several small sips.  I'm thinking that the base beer is a Brown Ale and it had a very strange complexity to it, like thin diet-cinnamon syrup and grilled peppers, which I found completely unappealing.  It only got more astringent as it warmed.  It was kind of gross, but I really tried to taxi past it.

Despite my immediate and ultimate opinions of the beer, I finished the bottle, and then went on with my life -- and another beer.  It was a big swing and miss for New Holland.  It was the alcoholic equivalent of an Animal Collective b-side -- strange and complex and over-blended -- offending the senses in a way that makes you wince a bit, despite your love for the band.

ABV: 8.o%
Acquired: New Holland Brewery
★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

So, after that experience, I naturally became a bit gun shy about picking up gimmicky beers resembling something out of a stainless steel Rick Bayless Airstream rather than a stainless steel brew kettle.

However, browsing the Spec's aisles one night, I did decide to give a mole beer another shot for three reasons: 1) New Belgium Brewery has rarely let me down in any capacity, 2) I love LOVE their Lips of Faith series, which includes one of the more accessible and delicious sour beers around: La Folie, and 3) My neighborhood Spec's tends to go through some severe dry spells as far as stocking a regularly new, exciting, and interesting beer selection.  Seriously, they're like the college sophomores of the liquor and spirits distribution world.  New Belgium Cocoa Mole appears to have been a slump-buster for them, as it was literally the most interesting thing they had stocked in weeks.  Hell, three extra reasons to buy a beer are three more reasons than I usually have, so I just went for it.

As you can surmise from the bottle here, New Belgium essentially expects you to consider this a party in your mouth -- or in a more traditional mole sense -- a wedding of flavors; chocolate and caramel and mild peppers; consummated between your palate and cranial nerves in a heap of mariachis, pistols, and gold-toothed grins.  I would even go so far to say its like a plethora of beautiful pinatas, each in their own little storeroom and filled with little surprises.

Somehow, New Belgium did succeed where New Holland failed.

I think the primary difference between the successful recipe and the not-so-successful was the balance of flavors in such a complex beer.  El Mole Ocho was too heavy on the spices, like cinnamon and ancho -- whereas Cocoa Mole had those ingredients, but were leveled out by chocolate, vanilla, and doughy Mexican pastry.  It was well-blended and smooth and respectful of the target of which it attempted to imitate -- not so obvious as the New Holland recipe, but a suggestion of what liquefied mole might taste like.  It was really well-executed.

I've always told Melissa that if we ever started a brewery, I wanted the first beer she brewed in my honor to be a Churro Porter, given my nasty streak for those delicious little Mexican donuts.  I think New Belgium might have beat us to the punch.  ¡Pendejos!

ABV: 9.o%
Acquired: Spec's
★★★★★★★☆☆☆