Quick post. I'm at my uncle's rather lovely house on the Delaware coast right now... and last night, we had some delicious Blue Crabs. Setting aside the joy of beating the crap out of dinner with a mallet, I faced the difficult situation of being in a house with no decent beer.
I found a single bottle of Newcastle, and decided it would be the best I could do... and when I tasted it, it literally tasted like pure acetone. When I poured out the contents, I found that it was actually sticking to the entire bottom eighth of the bottle. Ugh. I settled for a MILLER GENUINE DRAFT instead. Look... I really wanted something that was vaguely beer-like. But again, UGH.
This really does beg a question... why don't people get rid of old beer? My uncle isn't exactly someone who doesn't know that beer goes bad... he definitely knows that it can and that it does. But he's not the only person who keeps beer well after it's gone bad, bad, bad. What gives, surprising number of readers? Why don't people chuck old beer?
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Iniquity Liquidity
Nick's and my feelings on Southern Tier are well-established by this point.
I will admit that I have one small problem with their beers; they're bottled almost exclusively in 22 oz. bottles (an inconvenient size)--these bottles sometime cost a bit more than you might want to pay. But let's be honest. It's completely and totally worth it.
Every beer these people brew? DELICIOUS. MAGNIFICENT. EXQUISITE.
So I bought a Southern Tier Iniquity; apparently a "Black Ale". I knew nothing about the style or the Iniquity in particular. As with every other Southern Tier beer, the gamble more than paid off. It pours like a Guinness or any other stout: very very dark and thick, but with a browner, lighter, and taller head than most stouts. The taste is different from anything else I've tasted. Definitely an ale backbone, but with some SLIGHTLY roasted notes, and a really sweet finish that doesn't show up in most ales. As usual with Southern Tier, the hop balance is beautiful and interesting, with a strong and clear hop presence, but without overpowering hops and spice.
So, a question for the mysterious readers who have started to pop up (welcome, btw, everyone!). What do you think about the approach of buying beers based on the brewery, regardless of the particular style or brew? I've become convinced that ANYTHING Southern Tier brews is worth buying and drinking, regardless of what it is.
I will admit that I have one small problem with their beers; they're bottled almost exclusively in 22 oz. bottles (an inconvenient size)--these bottles sometime cost a bit more than you might want to pay. But let's be honest. It's completely and totally worth it.
Every beer these people brew? DELICIOUS. MAGNIFICENT. EXQUISITE.
So I bought a Southern Tier Iniquity; apparently a "Black Ale". I knew nothing about the style or the Iniquity in particular. As with every other Southern Tier beer, the gamble more than paid off. It pours like a Guinness or any other stout: very very dark and thick, but with a browner, lighter, and taller head than most stouts. The taste is different from anything else I've tasted. Definitely an ale backbone, but with some SLIGHTLY roasted notes, and a really sweet finish that doesn't show up in most ales. As usual with Southern Tier, the hop balance is beautiful and interesting, with a strong and clear hop presence, but without overpowering hops and spice.
So, a question for the mysterious readers who have started to pop up (welcome, btw, everyone!). What do you think about the approach of buying beers based on the brewery, regardless of the particular style or brew? I've become convinced that ANYTHING Southern Tier brews is worth buying and drinking, regardless of what it is.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Death of a Classic?
I had a Sam Summer Ale last night... this year's batch, still within expiration dates. It was reasonably awful; almost tasted like it may have skunked, but that seems unlikely, since Sam uses those clever brown-glass bottles and I'm pretty careful to keep my beer out of bright light anyway.
Anyone else out there (I like pretending that there are people who read this besides Nick) have the Sam Summer this year? Is it a crappy batch? I had another well-loved seasonal brew this summer (the Bell's Oberon--review forthcoming, and it was also sub-par, according to some beer-friends who know the beer well). Bad year for summer beers? Or did I just get a bad bottle?
Anyone else out there (I like pretending that there are people who read this besides Nick) have the Sam Summer this year? Is it a crappy batch? I had another well-loved seasonal brew this summer (the Bell's Oberon--review forthcoming, and it was also sub-par, according to some beer-friends who know the beer well). Bad year for summer beers? Or did I just get a bad bottle?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Post-Workout Brew
Drinking a Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA in the shower after a hard workout at the gym. Is there anything better?
Of the two of us, Nick's definitely the hop-head. I like hoppy beers more than 99% of the general beer drinking population, but Nick is one of a handful of people who's got me beat.
That said, in my humble opinion, there may not be a better widely available beer for the price than the Dogfish 90 Minute. Make no mistake--this IPA does not hold a handle to the 120 Minute, (nor, in fairness, is it a true IPA in the vein of a Drake's--maybe an IPA history rant is in order for a later post,) but for the entirely affordable price of a four-pack, this beer kicks ass.
Well-rounded, hoppy enough to satisfy most hopheads, (they add hops for 90 minutes and dry-hop the crap out of the thing,) but also well balanced by some fascinating malt notes you won't find anywhere else. Besides their 120, of course, which may be my single favorite American brew.
Anyway, ladies, go pick one up. And feel free to join me in the shower with the four-pack.
Of the two of us, Nick's definitely the hop-head. I like hoppy beers more than 99% of the general beer drinking population, but Nick is one of a handful of people who's got me beat.
That said, in my humble opinion, there may not be a better widely available beer for the price than the Dogfish 90 Minute. Make no mistake--this IPA does not hold a handle to the 120 Minute, (nor, in fairness, is it a true IPA in the vein of a Drake's--maybe an IPA history rant is in order for a later post,) but for the entirely affordable price of a four-pack, this beer kicks ass.
Well-rounded, hoppy enough to satisfy most hopheads, (they add hops for 90 minutes and dry-hop the crap out of the thing,) but also well balanced by some fascinating malt notes you won't find anywhere else. Besides their 120, of course, which may be my single favorite American brew.
Anyway, ladies, go pick one up. And feel free to join me in the shower with the four-pack.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
In Defense of Snobs
I ran into an awkward beer-related situation this weekend. It was my grandmother's birthday so family members from far and wide came together for a weekend of celebrating.
On Saturday night, an uncle and I were discussing our most recent beer discoveries when a cousin chimed in. We started to talk about our mutual love of beer and he told me that he’d brought a case of a beer that he was “sure I’d really love.” He explained that he’d only learned about it recently and that it has a nice light body with a hint of lime. Intrigued, I went to the fridge to take a look.
Unfortunately, this is what I found.
How does one deal with this type of situation? I really didn’t want to drink Bud Lime but I didn’t want to offend my cousin by turning down his beer. Making matters worse, it was the only beer at the party (my family is mostly cocktail drinkers and teetotalers). My options at this point seemed to be (a) suffer through a beer I really can’t stand or (b) risk insulting my cousin’s taste by coming out of the kitchen with lemonade.
If you know me, you know I spent the rest of the night sipping lemonade. I politely explained to my cousin that I’d had his new favorite brew before and didn’t really like it. He didn’t seem too miffed but I could tell what he was thinking: Beer Snob.
I’ve always resented that term because it’s always spoken with such malice. Someone who loves wine is a “connoisseur,” someone who makes great food is a “gourmet,” but someone who loves fine beer is a “snob”? Why the disdain?
Then again, why should I be ashamed of my beer knowledge? Why should I apologize for ordering an Anchor Steam when everyone around me is drinking Coors? Why should I fear someone rolling his eyes when I choose a good non-beer over a bad beer?
That’s it beer lovers. We’ve got to stand up for ourselves! Let’s take back the term beer snob! If drinking what I like makes me a snob, fine, I’m a snob. If drinking a refreshing, flavorful, and incredibly tasty beer makes me a snob, then you bet your ass I’m a snob.
On Saturday night, an uncle and I were discussing our most recent beer discoveries when a cousin chimed in. We started to talk about our mutual love of beer and he told me that he’d brought a case of a beer that he was “sure I’d really love.” He explained that he’d only learned about it recently and that it has a nice light body with a hint of lime. Intrigued, I went to the fridge to take a look.
Unfortunately, this is what I found.
How does one deal with this type of situation? I really didn’t want to drink Bud Lime but I didn’t want to offend my cousin by turning down his beer. Making matters worse, it was the only beer at the party (my family is mostly cocktail drinkers and teetotalers). My options at this point seemed to be (a) suffer through a beer I really can’t stand or (b) risk insulting my cousin’s taste by coming out of the kitchen with lemonade.
If you know me, you know I spent the rest of the night sipping lemonade. I politely explained to my cousin that I’d had his new favorite brew before and didn’t really like it. He didn’t seem too miffed but I could tell what he was thinking: Beer Snob.
I’ve always resented that term because it’s always spoken with such malice. Someone who loves wine is a “connoisseur,” someone who makes great food is a “gourmet,” but someone who loves fine beer is a “snob”? Why the disdain?
Then again, why should I be ashamed of my beer knowledge? Why should I apologize for ordering an Anchor Steam when everyone around me is drinking Coors? Why should I fear someone rolling his eyes when I choose a good non-beer over a bad beer?
That’s it beer lovers. We’ve got to stand up for ourselves! Let’s take back the term beer snob! If drinking what I like makes me a snob, fine, I’m a snob. If drinking a refreshing, flavorful, and incredibly tasty beer makes me a snob, then you bet your ass I’m a snob.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)