Ever since I began the process of disengaging from NABC, which diligent future historians will observe taking place at various intervals in the year 2015 (and which isn't yet concluded), my relationship with beer has been in flux.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's just different.
The world of beer has changed considerably during the past decade, and so have I. So have all of us. At times these days I want to throw Molotov cocktails at what I perceive beer is in the process of becoming, but at other times I love it as much as I always did.
Yeah, it's complicated.
To get to the point, and stated simply, my head currently isn't in alignment with the effort required to maintain two blogs. For whatever reason, NA Confidential -- which I've always referred to as my "public affairs" outlet -- has absorbed most of my time in recent years, with results that better reflect my interests, and that have produced gains in terms of readership.
As my column there Thursday explains, it makes more sense to fold my beer writing into NA Confidential, while keeping The Potable Curmudgeon as an archive (and ready source for cannibalizing past ideas).
All of these considerations also feed into an impending personal reality check. It was planned for me to take a year off to regroup, and the missus has been patient, but now the year is over. The column explains it; just know that easing back into the game via altered circumstances is the path I'll likely be pursuing.
In the meantime, look for beer writing at NAC prefixed by THE BEER BEAT, and remember that everything I've just explained could be obsolete the day after tomorrow. I'm playing things by ear, readying to go to the mattresses, and whichever other tired cliche might be inserted here.
Of course, anyone who might be in the market for an unemployed curmudgeon who can write a bit and probably is otherwise unemployable might be able to delay my entrepreneurial plans.
To those of you who've been eavesdropping here these many years, I cannot thank you enough. There'll yet be a few things to tidy up here, and I'll get to them soon enough. Cheers!
---
ON THE AVENUES: It’s never too late to beer all over again.
It isn’t that I’ve fallen out of love with beer. We’re not divorced or anything. A better word is estranged, which implies an alienation of affection, but doesn’t entirely rule out the possibility of reconciliation.
These thoughts occurred to me recently as I was contemplating the future of The Potable Curmudgeon, my beer-themed blog. It dates to 2005, and has enjoyed some fine moments over the years, though recently my commitment to maintaining it has waned.
Slightly less so Roger’s Simple Beer Pleasures, a page at Facebook that I started in late 2015. It is far better suited to the truncated social-media-driven attention spans ruling the planet at present, including my own, at least as it pertains to beer and brewing.
In spite of my efforts, I can’t seem to make The PC blog and Simple Pleasures work in harmony the way NA Confidential’s blog and Fb page do, primarily because my efforts are half-hearted.
There’s the rub.
I care more about what I’m writing at NA Confidential than The Potable Curmudgeon, so I’m willing to make the time at one and not the other. Taking it a step further, this indiscipline owes to my sense of estrangement from the world of beer and brewing. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy writing about beer, thinking about it and even drinking it, just that it isn’t a daily priority at present.
Consequently, I’ll be altering the routine in the weeks to come. The beer writing I undertake will be featured here at NA Confidential, and I’ll allow The Potable Curmudgeon to remain dormant as an archive.
Perhaps Fridays will be NAC’s Beer Day, or some such. Since so much of my beer writing has sought connectivity between beer and other interests in my life, putting them all in one place rather than separating them makes the most sense.
That is, until it doesn’t.
Read the rest here.
__
Showing posts with label beer writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beer writing. Show all posts
Saturday, December 10, 2016
Saturday, November 26, 2016
Hip Hops on HopCat: Yes, the current issue of Food and Dining Magazine is on the street.
The latest issue of Food & Dining was released just as we were boarding our flight for Sicily, so I'm a wee bit late in posting this quarter.
Food & Dining -- Winter 2016, Vol. 54 (November/December/January)
I have my usual beer column byline in the current edition. It's about the advent of HopCat
HIP HOPS | HopCat is the craft beer lover’s meow ... with 132 taps, it might be a good idea to bring a sleeping bag.
Printed copies of F & D are available throughout the metro area in bars, restaurants, coffee shops and bookstores -- and they're free of charge.
__
Monday, December 08, 2014
This may be the only honest piece of "beer writing" I've read in 2014.
This may be the only honest piece of "beer writing" I've read in 2014 ... and that includes my own scribbling. Writing well is very, very hard, and the best way to approach it is to tell the truth and write what you know. Sometimes, what you know is awfully hard to write with honesty.
No teaser. Just hit the link and read it.
Thanks, John. I didn't know ... and it's fairly miraculous that you held out this long.
The King has left the building, by John King (at LouisvilleBeer.com)
No teaser. Just hit the link and read it.
Thanks, John. I didn't know ... and it's fairly miraculous that you held out this long.
Monday, April 28, 2014
The PC: Taking my talents to the Right Bank ... my finale at LouisvilleBeer.com
The column was published at LouisvilleBeer.com on April 28, 2014. Beginning on May 5, each week's column will appear here.
But it's all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see ya can't please everyone
So ya got to please yourself
---
Taking my talents to the Right Bank
“Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.”
–Ernest Hemingway
You may be familiar with Papa Hemingway. He was a well-known writer in his time, and a lively, brawling personality who enjoyed good food and drink. Papa’s beer ratings weren’t always very objective, as when he expressed the view that Spanish lager was almost the equal of German.
But it's all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see ya can't please everyone
So ya got to please yourself
---
Taking my talents to the Right Bank
“Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.”
–Ernest Hemingway
You may be familiar with Papa Hemingway. He was a well-known writer in his time, and a lively, brawling personality who enjoyed good food and drink. Papa’s beer ratings weren’t always very objective, as when he expressed the view that Spanish lager was almost the equal of German.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Two more craft writing recaps: Digital takeaways and a Beer Trappe's perspective.
Two more Craft Writing symposium review links appear below. First, five takeaways.
I heard both Jeremy Cowan and Garrett Oliver say this, although they conceded doing less of such work writing nowadays. It seems to me that they've succeeded in establishing a house writing character (the Shmaltz shtick, Brooklyn Brewing's authoritative clarity) to guide those who churn today's copy.
It belatedly occurred to me that outside of the period 2010-2012, I could say the same about my writing for NABC. Probably more than 90% of the words written for NABC use since inception have been mine. To some extent, it's a legacy, although it can be annoying to look back and see errors and omissions, hence today's words for life: Everything you do is a work in progress.
Kevin Patterson runs The Beer Trappe in Lexington, and appears to be the voice of his workplace. His columns at LexBeerScene.com have been thought-provoking, and I'm looking forward to further reading and the occasional exchange of ideas.
5 VALUABLE MARKETING INSIGHTS FROM CRAFT BEER WRITING CONFERENCE, by Shea Anderson (Digital Relativity)
Almost all of the brewers who spoke said they also do the brewery’s writing.
I heard both Jeremy Cowan and Garrett Oliver say this, although they conceded doing less of such work writing nowadays. It seems to me that they've succeeded in establishing a house writing character (the Shmaltz shtick, Brooklyn Brewing's authoritative clarity) to guide those who churn today's copy.
It belatedly occurred to me that outside of the period 2010-2012, I could say the same about my writing for NABC. Probably more than 90% of the words written for NABC use since inception have been mine. To some extent, it's a legacy, although it can be annoying to look back and see errors and omissions, hence today's words for life: Everything you do is a work in progress.
Kevin Patterson runs The Beer Trappe in Lexington, and appears to be the voice of his workplace. His columns at LexBeerScene.com have been thought-provoking, and I'm looking forward to further reading and the occasional exchange of ideas.
Screwed Up Beer Week (vol 7) - "The Elephant in the Craft Beer Room", by Kevin Patterson (LexBeerScene.com)
So, two hundred and fifty craft beer writers walk into a symposium. And I can say with great certainty that they all knew much more about beer than me. There were esteemed authors of world-renowned publishing. There were owners of beer-centric periodicals. There were current beer bloggers. There were brewers who wrote abut their beer endeavors, for better and for worse. There were beer & food experts. There were beer chemists, biologists and physics experts. There were several masterbrewers. There they all were, all 250 of them... and then there was me.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Panic attack: "Craft Writing" symposium coming in February, with me as a speaker.
I was asked some months ago to participate in a symposium called "Craft Writing: Beer, The Digital, and Craft Culture," to be held at the University of Kentucky (my mom's alma mater) on February 15, 2014.
Now it's dawning on me that among a group of stellar and high-powered craft beer luminaries, including personal heroes like Stan Hieronymus, Mitch Steele and -- gasp -- Garrett Oliver, I might well be the most recent call-up from Double-A ball.
Will I be hazed?
A Twitter friend suggested mild intoxication as a coping strategy, but why depart from the tried and gonzo habit of "full" intake? Perhaps breakfast at West 6th would do the trick.
But seriously: My usual last-minute improv routine may need some polishing for this one. If I remain the localist and embrace the radicalism inherent in being an unknown, it should be okay.
Practice, practice, practice.
Do they still make Mr. Microphones?
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Time off for reinvention.
It's all somewhat hazy at this point, but I suppose there was a time when it seemed to me that my viewpoints about beer might be separated from those pertaining to the wider world, and as such, it seemed reasonable to put the beer thoughts all in one place -- namely, this blog.
Perhaps I can see more clearly now.
The target keeps moving, and the pendulum always swings. In recent years, I've come right back to where I started: Beer doesn't exist in a hedonistic vacuum. This point has been reinforced so many times that an exhaustive list of references is impossible. In part, this may be because the craft/better/good beer business has gotten so much larger, and as it has grown, so has my own company's activities. Now, as before, it strikes me that overlap is the rule, and it all bleeds together: Beer, healthcare, beer, bureaucrats, beer, bridge tolls, beer, Middle East, beer, travel, beer, religion, beer and food ... and on, and on.
At the same time, what were once priorities are now irrelevancies. The search for a perfect pint was supposed to last a lifetime, except that the modern culture of beer narcissism doesn't play a long game. With thousands of self-identified experts rating, arranging and pontificating beer, expertise naturally has gone the way of the Model T's hand crank. There us none. As much as 90% of what passes as beer writing (or videos, or audio, or commentary) is repetitious gibberish ... and rubbish is the positive part. The shining city on a hill is beset with one-upmanship, garish end zone celebrations and counter-productive snobbery.
It's probably time to start all over, and if such a cleansing and beginning anew cannot embrace all of us who want to lay claim to a stake, at least it can happen in my own world, right now. It will, and it is.
Consequently, lately when the urge to write about beer has struck me, I've generally paused and hoped it would pass. Sometimes a gin & tonic or a bottle of red wine (local works just fine) has soothed the wait. Make no mistake: Beer is my life as much as it ever was; it's just that taking occasional breaks from a jaded milieu that has become insufferably inane become a necessary self-defense mechanism -- rather like drinking itself. As the reinvention has proceeded, or at least as a new pattern has started taking shape in my brain, the notion of "beer snobbery as usual" has become steadily, and I believe inexorably, alien to me.
But I'm not depressed. I'm relieved, and it feels quite good, actually. I enjoy the rejuvenating idea of reclaiming my heritage, diving back into broader education (the "classics" always appeal to me), speaking truth to megaswill's power, and working other sides of the corn and different aisles. In what little spare time I have, a new narrative is coming together. When the narcissistic clatter subsides and the self-indulgent morons finally are weeded out, I'll still be standing. Bob Dylan's never-ending tour, as adapted to better beer, begins right here.
When I feel like blogging about real beer, I've been publishing the results at NA Confidential, and this will continue to be the case. I've often referred to NAC as my personal blog, emphasizing politics, civic affairs and the world as I view them. As such, why arbitrarily separate beer from life? To do so merely reinforces the dull predictability of those who know exactly which variety of hops are used in the highest rated beer, but couldn't name five state capitals with a waterboard pointed at their palates.
For a while at least, there won't be very much new here at PC. I'll still be doing twice-monthly columns at LouisvilleBeer.com, and quarterly columns for Food and Dining. Otherwise, you'll find me at NAC. Let's see where the pathway leads.
Perhaps I can see more clearly now.
The target keeps moving, and the pendulum always swings. In recent years, I've come right back to where I started: Beer doesn't exist in a hedonistic vacuum. This point has been reinforced so many times that an exhaustive list of references is impossible. In part, this may be because the craft/better/good beer business has gotten so much larger, and as it has grown, so has my own company's activities. Now, as before, it strikes me that overlap is the rule, and it all bleeds together: Beer, healthcare, beer, bureaucrats, beer, bridge tolls, beer, Middle East, beer, travel, beer, religion, beer and food ... and on, and on.
At the same time, what were once priorities are now irrelevancies. The search for a perfect pint was supposed to last a lifetime, except that the modern culture of beer narcissism doesn't play a long game. With thousands of self-identified experts rating, arranging and pontificating beer, expertise naturally has gone the way of the Model T's hand crank. There us none. As much as 90% of what passes as beer writing (or videos, or audio, or commentary) is repetitious gibberish ... and rubbish is the positive part. The shining city on a hill is beset with one-upmanship, garish end zone celebrations and counter-productive snobbery.
It's probably time to start all over, and if such a cleansing and beginning anew cannot embrace all of us who want to lay claim to a stake, at least it can happen in my own world, right now. It will, and it is.
Consequently, lately when the urge to write about beer has struck me, I've generally paused and hoped it would pass. Sometimes a gin & tonic or a bottle of red wine (local works just fine) has soothed the wait. Make no mistake: Beer is my life as much as it ever was; it's just that taking occasional breaks from a jaded milieu that has become insufferably inane become a necessary self-defense mechanism -- rather like drinking itself. As the reinvention has proceeded, or at least as a new pattern has started taking shape in my brain, the notion of "beer snobbery as usual" has become steadily, and I believe inexorably, alien to me.
But I'm not depressed. I'm relieved, and it feels quite good, actually. I enjoy the rejuvenating idea of reclaiming my heritage, diving back into broader education (the "classics" always appeal to me), speaking truth to megaswill's power, and working other sides of the corn and different aisles. In what little spare time I have, a new narrative is coming together. When the narcissistic clatter subsides and the self-indulgent morons finally are weeded out, I'll still be standing. Bob Dylan's never-ending tour, as adapted to better beer, begins right here.
When I feel like blogging about real beer, I've been publishing the results at NA Confidential, and this will continue to be the case. I've often referred to NAC as my personal blog, emphasizing politics, civic affairs and the world as I view them. As such, why arbitrarily separate beer from life? To do so merely reinforces the dull predictability of those who know exactly which variety of hops are used in the highest rated beer, but couldn't name five state capitals with a waterboard pointed at their palates.
For a while at least, there won't be very much new here at PC. I'll still be doing twice-monthly columns at LouisvilleBeer.com, and quarterly columns for Food and Dining. Otherwise, you'll find me at NAC. Let's see where the pathway leads.
Monday, March 25, 2013
"Second hand news usually is mistaken."
Obviously, I write quite a lot.
It is a compulsion of sorts, and it always comes in the sincere hope that my words will be read. As David Brinkley once put it, “Everyone is entitled to my opinion.”
Words I write are published alongside my name, because to me, anonymity is tantamount to cowardice. For those like me with strong views, there is an inescapable element of living and dying by the rhetorical sword, and I accept this condition of the engagement.
Give and take is common, but every now and then, a complaint will be registered to the effect that someone, somewhere, has taken offense at words I’ve written. Actually I’m delighted with such feedback, and quite willing to discuss particulars, so long as we’re reasonably clear about parameters.
First, let’s get down to basics.
“Heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend” is an annoyingly Junior High School attribution, and second hand news usually is mistaken. Seeing as I never erase or alter what I’ve written, the offending passage surely remains out there, so don’t put the wrong words in my mouth – I’m capable on occasion of doing precisely that without anyone else’s help. Find the actual words I used, please.
Then, once the offending passage has been located at the source, kindly let me know what it says. Believe it or not, it’s not always easy to remember the content of several hundred thousand words written, numerous Facebook status updates posted and 17,000 tweets tweeted when one drinks beer for a living over a period of 30 or more years.
The final step is this: I will consider and review anything I’ve written. If it is true, then I’ll stand by it, come what may. If it is false, I’ll also stand by it –
They’re my words, after all – but I’ll admit my error, make my corrections, and take my lumps.
Fair enough? Thank you for reading.
It is a compulsion of sorts, and it always comes in the sincere hope that my words will be read. As David Brinkley once put it, “Everyone is entitled to my opinion.”
Words I write are published alongside my name, because to me, anonymity is tantamount to cowardice. For those like me with strong views, there is an inescapable element of living and dying by the rhetorical sword, and I accept this condition of the engagement.
Give and take is common, but every now and then, a complaint will be registered to the effect that someone, somewhere, has taken offense at words I’ve written. Actually I’m delighted with such feedback, and quite willing to discuss particulars, so long as we’re reasonably clear about parameters.
First, let’s get down to basics.
“Heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend” is an annoyingly Junior High School attribution, and second hand news usually is mistaken. Seeing as I never erase or alter what I’ve written, the offending passage surely remains out there, so don’t put the wrong words in my mouth – I’m capable on occasion of doing precisely that without anyone else’s help. Find the actual words I used, please.
Then, once the offending passage has been located at the source, kindly let me know what it says. Believe it or not, it’s not always easy to remember the content of several hundred thousand words written, numerous Facebook status updates posted and 17,000 tweets tweeted when one drinks beer for a living over a period of 30 or more years.
The final step is this: I will consider and review anything I’ve written. If it is true, then I’ll stand by it, come what may. If it is false, I’ll also stand by it –
They’re my words, after all – but I’ll admit my error, make my corrections, and take my lumps.
Fair enough? Thank you for reading.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Wednesday Weekly: "Neither a pundit nor a poet be."
You may have noticed that I go through these periods when there’s precious little time to actually write about beer. Admittedly, this is problematic, because presumably, that’s why many folks pay attention to this space in the first place.
The lamentable fact is that it’s hard to function as a beer pundit when the beer business at NABC takes up so much of my time, but moreover, as the nature of beer punditry continues to change so quickly and profoundly.
Yesterday I was conversing with my cellar-keeping, beer managing NABC assistants, Ben and Eric, and we decided to check www.beeradvocate.com for information on a particular nationally distributed beer. We perused a dozen or so reviews submitted by samplers from disparate geographical locations, and our verdict came in the form of a question: Are you sure you all were reviewing the same beer?
In short, we viewed multiple opinions without really coming close to answering our question.
Of course, an opposing phenomenon occurs frequently, whereby these proliferating beer reviews seem to have been freely borrowed from each other, with random words changed to evoke the stray possibility of originality, like so many school kids copying off the papers of others.
I’m not disparaging anyone’s enthusiasm or good intentions, and generally support democratization of zealous attachment, and yet I must simply observe that there really doesn’t seem to be a shared foundation for beer punditry when it comes to the vastness of the Internet and the bases of explication therein. Even my thoughts here are not original, and plenty of like discussions have occurred, ones that I may be unconsciously plagiarizing.
Perhaps confusion of choice has outpaced any means of precision of quantification.
As I’ve insisted, it’s the Golden Age of Beer, and there are thousands of breweries, styles, beers and preferences in America alone to sift through in search of pleasure and enlightenment. Thirty years ago, it was far, far easier for Michael Jackson to write concisely about the smaller number of American breweries, and about those world beers that were exported. Similarly, it was easier for three major television networks to decide what constituted news and what didn’t, and to have all the music news worth reporting come from two major print publications.
Consequently, it seems that localization as it pertains to beer appreciation is a schizophrenic concept, at least for me. As the beer universe expands exponentially, I become increasingly interested in the parts of it nearest to me, my home and my business. As it explodes all over the map, I want to embrace the ones at the grassroots, right here, and see more of them flower.
Accordingly, I become increasingly obsessed with how all of these considerations apply to craft brewing gaining market share in my community, where five percent penetration would constitute a veritable apocalypse. Is it the rejection of genuine flavor on the part of those who’ve never experienced it? Is it price point alone? Have we not truly grasped the invisible hand of brand loyalty as it affects a Bud Man? Is it a matter of class and socialization? Would more education do the trick? Are all of the above true, at the same time?
This is my brain today. Tomorrow, it may be different. Am I a strategist, a pundit, a carnival barker, a politician or just a beer lover punching above my weight class? Does it matter? Too many questions, not enough answers … but a nice hoppy ale is never very far away.
The lamentable fact is that it’s hard to function as a beer pundit when the beer business at NABC takes up so much of my time, but moreover, as the nature of beer punditry continues to change so quickly and profoundly.
Yesterday I was conversing with my cellar-keeping, beer managing NABC assistants, Ben and Eric, and we decided to check www.beeradvocate.com for information on a particular nationally distributed beer. We perused a dozen or so reviews submitted by samplers from disparate geographical locations, and our verdict came in the form of a question: Are you sure you all were reviewing the same beer?
In short, we viewed multiple opinions without really coming close to answering our question.
Of course, an opposing phenomenon occurs frequently, whereby these proliferating beer reviews seem to have been freely borrowed from each other, with random words changed to evoke the stray possibility of originality, like so many school kids copying off the papers of others.
I’m not disparaging anyone’s enthusiasm or good intentions, and generally support democratization of zealous attachment, and yet I must simply observe that there really doesn’t seem to be a shared foundation for beer punditry when it comes to the vastness of the Internet and the bases of explication therein. Even my thoughts here are not original, and plenty of like discussions have occurred, ones that I may be unconsciously plagiarizing.
Perhaps confusion of choice has outpaced any means of precision of quantification.
As I’ve insisted, it’s the Golden Age of Beer, and there are thousands of breweries, styles, beers and preferences in America alone to sift through in search of pleasure and enlightenment. Thirty years ago, it was far, far easier for Michael Jackson to write concisely about the smaller number of American breweries, and about those world beers that were exported. Similarly, it was easier for three major television networks to decide what constituted news and what didn’t, and to have all the music news worth reporting come from two major print publications.
Consequently, it seems that localization as it pertains to beer appreciation is a schizophrenic concept, at least for me. As the beer universe expands exponentially, I become increasingly interested in the parts of it nearest to me, my home and my business. As it explodes all over the map, I want to embrace the ones at the grassroots, right here, and see more of them flower.
Accordingly, I become increasingly obsessed with how all of these considerations apply to craft brewing gaining market share in my community, where five percent penetration would constitute a veritable apocalypse. Is it the rejection of genuine flavor on the part of those who’ve never experienced it? Is it price point alone? Have we not truly grasped the invisible hand of brand loyalty as it affects a Bud Man? Is it a matter of class and socialization? Would more education do the trick? Are all of the above true, at the same time?
This is my brain today. Tomorrow, it may be different. Am I a strategist, a pundit, a carnival barker, a politician or just a beer lover punching above my weight class? Does it matter? Too many questions, not enough answers … but a nice hoppy ale is never very far away.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
A column update.
I'm a month into the notion of staying disciplined (right) by continuing to write Wednesday columns, posting them here at the blog instead of the former arrangement with LEO.
Below are links to the first quartet of columns. There'll be no column on Wednesday, July 21, as I'll be on holiday. With luck, holidazing will inspire wisdom on the 28th.
I've had fruitful preliminary discussions with a local media entity toward reviving the beer column. Neither "Mug Shots" nor "Wednesday Weekly" is to my liking, so if anyone has thoughts on what a future column might be called, let me know. That's your assignment before the 28th, okay?
Wednesday Weekly: Someone's gotta keep non-advertisers in line, right?
Wednesday Weekly: "Contract," my ass.
Wednesday Weekly: The Jackson I miss the most.
Wednesday Weekly: To the “craft” of the matter.
Below are links to the first quartet of columns. There'll be no column on Wednesday, July 21, as I'll be on holiday. With luck, holidazing will inspire wisdom on the 28th.
I've had fruitful preliminary discussions with a local media entity toward reviving the beer column. Neither "Mug Shots" nor "Wednesday Weekly" is to my liking, so if anyone has thoughts on what a future column might be called, let me know. That's your assignment before the 28th, okay?
Wednesday Weekly: Someone's gotta keep non-advertisers in line, right?
Wednesday Weekly: "Contract," my ass.
Wednesday Weekly: The Jackson I miss the most.
Wednesday Weekly: To the “craft” of the matter.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Wednesday Weekly: The Jackson I miss the most.
The idea is to stay disciplined by continuing to write Wednesday columns here at the blog, but to try posting one each week instead of every other week (as was the case for the late Mug Shots in LEO).
---
Last week (June 25) marked the passage of a year since the American entertainer Michael Jackson died.
In two months, it will have been three years since the death of Michael Jackson, the British beer writer.
Although ever willing to concede that it’s a chronologically relative kind of thing, I never once bought into the “King of Pop” tag for Jackson the singer. Maybe Hoboken’s Frank Sinatra, or Hound Dog Elvis Presley fits the bill, but not the Moonwalker.
Conversely, a highly convincing case can be made that Michael Jackson the Yorkshireman fully deserves the title “King of Beer,” and in a far more plausible way than A-B InBev’s classically insipid American Lager ever will be able to claim.
From their respective vantage points in music and writing, both Jacksons brilliantly synthesized artistic and stylistic themes that preceded them, but of the two, only the beer writer can be said to have annotated, denoted and connoted his source material into what amounts to a living language of beer, one that aficionados speak every single day of their beer drinking lives.
Pop music certainly is enriched by the canon handed down by Michael Jackson, and yet its everyday vocabulary is not referential to his body of work. The language of beer surely does pass directly through Michael Jackson. Even the swill merchants speak in his voice with their “triple hopped” this and “bock” that.
Yes, it is true that Jackson the beer writer did not create this vocational tongue from the ether, in the sense that a musician like the other Michael conjured melodies and choreographed dance steps, and yet our beer man clearly was the first to systematically consider beer styles, to explain them, and to show how aspects of the brewing process, historical practice, geography, chemistry and myriad other human experiences pertained to them, demonstrating in the process that our enjoyment of the genre is enhanced immeasurably by greater knowledge and linguistic “beer speak” aptitude.
What’s more, our Jackson performed this feat in an entertainingly and enduringly readable way, neither dumbing down nor assuming the role of lofty pedant. He far exceeded the journalist’s basic mandate to clarify and explain, because he was an erudite prose stylist in addition to his skills as reporter. He told wonderful stories while never forgetting the newspaperman’s facts-first orientation. I persist in believing that Jackson is best compared to figures like Samuel Johnson and other great essayists in the English past.
Some beer writers working today have equaled Jackson. None have surpassed him. Meanwhile, time marches forward, and matters like these fill my mind during those times when I toy with melancholia. I’d caution you that a changing of the guard is under way, except that it is likely to have already occurred.
I note merely that many of the same socio-economic, technological and cultural reasons why there’ll never again be recorded music “album” sales in the multi-million range of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” also preclude the emergence of another beer writer of Michael Jackson’s caliber and far-reaching influence.
There remains much wonderful music to enjoy, and there exists prolific writing about beer, with reams of both available on-line. Just as musical choice has proliferated far beyond what a relative handful of corporations formerly permitted us to hear, so has beer writing expanded in all directions, documenting the expanding choices, and encapsulating the Internet-driven democratic ethos that we’re all experts, even if some (most?) are slightly less expert than others.
My personal annoyance is that so very little of what is written nowadays about beer so much as touches the writer Michael Jackson’s elegant classicism. What annoys me even further is that this absence seems not to bother others in quite the same way that it disturbs me. Changing times, indeed.
Plainly, beer appreciation in its modern interpretation has been with us for long enough to pass across one and maybe two generational lines, and differing ways of conceptualizing and processing information on the part of succeeding generations are not confined to popular tastes in art or music. Shift happens in beer, too.
It already has, and even as we celebrate the growth of beer consciousness, there is acute awareness that the social shifts prefacing the decline of the compact disc and the newspaper inevitably must have an impact on what we do, too.
In short, with all the facts at our fingertips, are missing the crucial back story, essential history? More folks than ever know their beer styles – do they grasp the intrinsic stylishness of those styles? Had Jackson himself come to maturity during our present age, would there would be a medium to serve his talents?
I have no answers, no solutions, and I cannot rule out that I’m completely wrong in all of this. The simple fact is that I miss Michael “Beer Hunter” Jackson -- alive, working and drinking in our world. As should be obvious, he was an enormous formative influence on my career in beer, which always was as much about storytelling and writing as understanding enzymes and identifying precise hop types.
But that’s for another day. Get a good beer, and one of Jackson’s books, and see what I mean.
---
Last week (June 25) marked the passage of a year since the American entertainer Michael Jackson died.
In two months, it will have been three years since the death of Michael Jackson, the British beer writer.
Although ever willing to concede that it’s a chronologically relative kind of thing, I never once bought into the “King of Pop” tag for Jackson the singer. Maybe Hoboken’s Frank Sinatra, or Hound Dog Elvis Presley fits the bill, but not the Moonwalker.
Conversely, a highly convincing case can be made that Michael Jackson the Yorkshireman fully deserves the title “King of Beer,” and in a far more plausible way than A-B InBev’s classically insipid American Lager ever will be able to claim.
From their respective vantage points in music and writing, both Jacksons brilliantly synthesized artistic and stylistic themes that preceded them, but of the two, only the beer writer can be said to have annotated, denoted and connoted his source material into what amounts to a living language of beer, one that aficionados speak every single day of their beer drinking lives.
Pop music certainly is enriched by the canon handed down by Michael Jackson, and yet its everyday vocabulary is not referential to his body of work. The language of beer surely does pass directly through Michael Jackson. Even the swill merchants speak in his voice with their “triple hopped” this and “bock” that.
Yes, it is true that Jackson the beer writer did not create this vocational tongue from the ether, in the sense that a musician like the other Michael conjured melodies and choreographed dance steps, and yet our beer man clearly was the first to systematically consider beer styles, to explain them, and to show how aspects of the brewing process, historical practice, geography, chemistry and myriad other human experiences pertained to them, demonstrating in the process that our enjoyment of the genre is enhanced immeasurably by greater knowledge and linguistic “beer speak” aptitude.
What’s more, our Jackson performed this feat in an entertainingly and enduringly readable way, neither dumbing down nor assuming the role of lofty pedant. He far exceeded the journalist’s basic mandate to clarify and explain, because he was an erudite prose stylist in addition to his skills as reporter. He told wonderful stories while never forgetting the newspaperman’s facts-first orientation. I persist in believing that Jackson is best compared to figures like Samuel Johnson and other great essayists in the English past.
Some beer writers working today have equaled Jackson. None have surpassed him. Meanwhile, time marches forward, and matters like these fill my mind during those times when I toy with melancholia. I’d caution you that a changing of the guard is under way, except that it is likely to have already occurred.
I note merely that many of the same socio-economic, technological and cultural reasons why there’ll never again be recorded music “album” sales in the multi-million range of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” also preclude the emergence of another beer writer of Michael Jackson’s caliber and far-reaching influence.
There remains much wonderful music to enjoy, and there exists prolific writing about beer, with reams of both available on-line. Just as musical choice has proliferated far beyond what a relative handful of corporations formerly permitted us to hear, so has beer writing expanded in all directions, documenting the expanding choices, and encapsulating the Internet-driven democratic ethos that we’re all experts, even if some (most?) are slightly less expert than others.
My personal annoyance is that so very little of what is written nowadays about beer so much as touches the writer Michael Jackson’s elegant classicism. What annoys me even further is that this absence seems not to bother others in quite the same way that it disturbs me. Changing times, indeed.
Plainly, beer appreciation in its modern interpretation has been with us for long enough to pass across one and maybe two generational lines, and differing ways of conceptualizing and processing information on the part of succeeding generations are not confined to popular tastes in art or music. Shift happens in beer, too.
It already has, and even as we celebrate the growth of beer consciousness, there is acute awareness that the social shifts prefacing the decline of the compact disc and the newspaper inevitably must have an impact on what we do, too.
In short, with all the facts at our fingertips, are missing the crucial back story, essential history? More folks than ever know their beer styles – do they grasp the intrinsic stylishness of those styles? Had Jackson himself come to maturity during our present age, would there would be a medium to serve his talents?
I have no answers, no solutions, and I cannot rule out that I’m completely wrong in all of this. The simple fact is that I miss Michael “Beer Hunter” Jackson -- alive, working and drinking in our world. As should be obvious, he was an enormous formative influence on my career in beer, which always was as much about storytelling and writing as understanding enzymes and identifying precise hop types.
But that’s for another day. Get a good beer, and one of Jackson’s books, and see what I mean.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Last Louisville keg of Solidarity at Zeppelin Cafe this Wednesday, February 17.
I grudgingly doff my cap to the snow, and offer this excerpt from a column I wrote for Food & Dining magazine in 2005. To the brief list of winter beers, at the end Baltic Porter might have been added.This is a way of reminding readers that the last keg from NABC's Louisville allocation of Solidarity will be tapped at 7:00 p.m. this Wednesday, February 17, at the Zeppelin Cafe in Germantown: Last Call For Solidarity!
The weather's ideal for it. As for the food, and although I haven't had the chance to eat at the Zeppelin Cafe, reports have been positive. Items that stick to your ribs are good for winter, and ideal for Solidarity.
---
A menacing queue forms before me.
It is comprised of well-intentioned nutritionists, crusading physicians, profiteering diet planners and congenital killjoys. In this nastiest of personal nightmares, they have gathered to demand that I eschew the habits of my expansive past, to convert, to see the light … to eat and drink “right.”
Stubborn and unrepentant, I point defiantly to the thermometer. It’s not a fit night out for man or beast; Louisville is cold. Salade Nicoise, gazpacho, watermelon and corn on the cob all seem inadequate. Waxen imitation veggies need not apply.
No! I want food to warm the bones, to arouse the slumbering genes of my ancestors on the steppes and in the forest, those enduring and resourceful people who during winter reached for the pickled vegetables, delved into cellar for potatoes, beets and onions, and cracked open stocks of salted beef and fish.
I demand the hearty ingredients for soups, stews, goulash, cabbage rolls and casseroles.
Furthermore, I want beer styles to match them! Beer that is cool, not cold; strong, not puny; challenging, not simple.
Winter provides the most suitable conditions for sampling and studying the heavyweight classics that have come to us from the various Old World brewing cultures and in turn have been embraced and redefined by America’s innovative microbrewers.
Among these are multi-faceted imperial stouts, deeply affecting barley wines, and big, brawny German “double” bocks. Not only do these beer styles provide ample warming for bodies iced and chilled in the great outdoors, but they also stick to the food that sticks to your bones when it matters most.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
UPDATE - "Mug Shots": Another compendium of my essays in LEO.
It's time for another "Mug Shots" update.
For those just tuning in, every two weeks the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) publishes a 300-word essay about beer written by the Curmudgeon.
Although I had my doubts at first (my topic sentences have tended to run 300 words), it has proven to be great fun and good practice in self-discipline, something for which I'm not universally noted.
Here are the links to recent articles:
Mug Shots – Share the hops
(July 23, 2008)
Mug Shots - Venting the chug
(July 9, 2008)
Mug Shots - Train station brews
(June 25, 2008)
Mug Shots - Your beer is The Man
(June 11, 2008)
Mug Shots: Catch the Buzz
(May 28, 2008)
Mug Shots: A fair price?
(May 14, 2008)
Previously: UPDATE - "Mug Shots": A compendium of my essays in LEO.
For those just tuning in, every two weeks the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) publishes a 300-word essay about beer written by the Curmudgeon.
Although I had my doubts at first (my topic sentences have tended to run 300 words), it has proven to be great fun and good practice in self-discipline, something for which I'm not universally noted.
Here are the links to recent articles:
Mug Shots – Share the hops
(July 23, 2008)
Mug Shots - Venting the chug
(July 9, 2008)
Mug Shots - Train station brews
(June 25, 2008)
Mug Shots - Your beer is The Man
(June 11, 2008)
Mug Shots: Catch the Buzz
(May 28, 2008)
Mug Shots: A fair price?
(May 14, 2008)
Previously: UPDATE - "Mug Shots": A compendium of my essays in LEO.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
UPDATE - "Mug Shots": A compendium of my essays in LEO.
It's time for another "Mug Shots" update.
For those just tuning in, every two weeks the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) publishes a 300-word essay about beer written by the Curmudgeon.
Although I had my doubts at first (my topic sentences tend to run 300 words), it has proven to be great fun and good practice in self-discipline, something for which I'm not universally noted.
Here are the links to recent articles:
Mug Shots: The hypocrisies of drinking and voting
(April 30, 2008)
Mug Shots: Expand your horizons
(April 16, 2008)
Mug Shots: Pabst tense (ask for the original)
(April 2, 2008)
Mug Shots: Craft brews are up!
March 19, 2008)
Mug Shots: Meg Ryan would approve
(March 5, 2008)
Mug Shots: Gravityheads, unite
(February 20, 2008)
Mug Shots: Oysters and stout go hand-in-hand
(February 6, 2008)
Mug Shots: Ben Franklin was a beer man
(January 23, 2008)
Mug Shots: A manifesto for 2008
(January 9, 2008)
---
Mug Shots: The Year in Beer
(December 26, 2007)
Mug Shots: Swap Santa for Saturnalia
(December 12, 2007)
Mug Shots: Behold beer sommeliers
(November 28, 2007)
Mug Shots: Sacrilege and mass merger
(November 14, 2007)
For those just tuning in, every two weeks the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) publishes a 300-word essay about beer written by the Curmudgeon.
Although I had my doubts at first (my topic sentences tend to run 300 words), it has proven to be great fun and good practice in self-discipline, something for which I'm not universally noted.
Here are the links to recent articles:
Mug Shots: The hypocrisies of drinking and voting
(April 30, 2008)
Mug Shots: Expand your horizons
(April 16, 2008)
Mug Shots: Pabst tense (ask for the original)
(April 2, 2008)
Mug Shots: Craft brews are up!
March 19, 2008)
Mug Shots: Meg Ryan would approve
(March 5, 2008)
Mug Shots: Gravityheads, unite
(February 20, 2008)
Mug Shots: Oysters and stout go hand-in-hand
(February 6, 2008)
Mug Shots: Ben Franklin was a beer man
(January 23, 2008)
Mug Shots: A manifesto for 2008
(January 9, 2008)
---
Mug Shots: The Year in Beer
(December 26, 2007)
Mug Shots: Swap Santa for Saturnalia
(December 12, 2007)
Mug Shots: Behold beer sommeliers
(November 28, 2007)
Mug Shots: Sacrilege and mass merger
(November 14, 2007)
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Something about "lawnmower beer" from the summer of 2007.
(Originally published in Food & Dining magazine in 2007)
Night was a wonderful time in Brooklyn in the 1930s. Air conditioning was unknown except in movie houses, and so was television. There was nothing to keep one in the house. Furthermore, few people owned automobiles, so there was nothing to carry one away. That left the streets and the stoops. The very fullness served as an inhibition to crime.
--Isaac Asimov
What sort of beer might the denizens of Asimov’s nostalgic borough have been drinking on the stoop during a hot summer’s night? Probably Schaefer or Rheingold, both local lagers at the time, or maybe even Ballantine Ale, which as a top-fermented beer would have been far rarer.
There is no surviving evidence that either Belgian-style Wit or Bavarian Hefe-Weizen were being recommended by newspaper columnists as ideal seasonal ales suitable for varying the routine, although there may well have been immigrants who recalled these styles from their childhoods abroad.
Today many of us are aware of expanded beer choices, but sadly there remain links between 1930’s-era fans hopping from a street car to queue for Ebbets Field bleacher seats and their grandchildren in 2007, multi-taskers buying advance tickets by cell phone off the Internet and arriving for the big game at Dodger Stadium in a fully-equipped SUV. Most beer drinkers still are brand-loyal, mechanically opting for the same mass-market golden lager beer that they always drink, rain or shine, heat or cold, indoor or outdoor.
----
The ubiquity of air conditioning quite honestly leaves me perplexed as I consider the genre of “lawnmower beer,” a stylistic umbrella term that playfully implies a brew suitable for the climactic extremes of summertime – lighter in body, milder in flavor, lower in alcohol, and more quaffable overall – while not specifying style.
Lest the disclaimer police intervene, “lawnmower beer” is not intended as the subliminal suggestion to drink gallons of it while actively engaged in the task of cutting grass, even if the padded seat situated atop the whirling blades of vegetation suppression comes equipped with a handy cup holder, designer huggies and perhaps even a dorm fridge in the sidecar.
Still, it does assume proximity to uncomfortable elements and those diverse warm weather outdoor venues for enjoying beer -- ballparks, patios, backyard barbecues and picnics – even if by now far more of my favorite beverage is being consumed inside where it’s cool, rather than outside in the encroaching aftermath of global warming.
Air-conditioned or open-air, when it comes to “lawnmower beer,” the styles preferred by the author more closely resemble the higher octane of liquid poured into the fuel tank as opposed to analogies with refreshing splashes from the garden hose when the clipping’s all through. Fortunately for this edition’s pay packet, there is a case to be made for friendly seasonal beer styles, at least as long as you save the fruit wedges for rum drinks. Please.
Ales made with wheat.
Apart from a few high-gravity specialties, the use of wheat alone almost axiomatically implies a “lawnmower beer.”
If based on the Belgian brewing tradition, wheat ale will be light-bodied, cloudy golden, and spiced with coriander and orange peel. Not unexpectedly, these ingredients yield a citrusy, consummately refreshing character. Common examples include Hoegaarden and Wittekerke, both imports, and Upland Wheat, a superior regional microbrew from Bloomington, Indiana.
German-style wheat ales are cousins to the Belgian, yet very different; generally unfiltered (“Hefe-”), golden but sometimes brown (“Dunkel”), and redolent with distinctive flavors of clove and fruit that derive entirely from the strain of yeast used to ferment them. Having traveled in Bavaria, I tend to stick to the imported Teutonic classics: Franziskaner, Weihenstephaner, Erdinger, Tucher, and my personal favorite, Schneider.
Closer to home, if microbrewed wheat ale is not otherwise tagged as Belgian or German, chances are it is what we now refer to as “American-style” wheat, fermented with ordinary ale yeast not specifically cultured for the nuances that identify continental variants. These wheaties come to your glass as designed, to be light, inoffensive, effervescent and quaffable, and so many competing brands exist – and there is so little difference between the bulk of them – that I’ll mention only one: Bell’s Oberon.
Inevitably, there is a degree of overlap between these categories. For instance, the presence of the “Hefe-” prefix on the label of microbrewed wheat ale emphatically does not guarantee that it was brewed with characteristically toothsome German wheat yeast, although in my view it should. Rather, the word in this context should be taken to imply unfiltered wheat ale brewed with regular ale yeast.
Toward refreshingly hoppy.
During the past quarter century, American microbrewers have established a reputation for improvisational exuberance, and among the very first instances of this willingness to expand boundaries is a style that many “extreme beer” aficionados now regard as quaint and almost dull: American Pale Ale, which adapts English traditions to contemporary, and primarily West Coast, indigenous ingredients. There is a vestige of similarity to the aforementioned Ballantine of old.
Gravities are modest, with alcohol contents rarely approaching 6%. Malt bills are simple, and hardy yeasts perform their conversion miracles quickly, leaving a medium body with a fruity and lightly toasty backbone. Bitterness is restrained, but floral hops like the Cascade variety offer piney, citrusy notes. If you taste grapefruit, it’s purely intentional, and it makes American Pale Ale a reliable thirst quencher on sultry afternoons.
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale remains a viable, dependable yardstick, but don’t stop there. Most microbreweries have contestants in a similar vein, including these:
BBC APA … founding brewer David Pierce’s Louisville classic (KY).
Schlafly Dry-Hopped APA … a shade milder than Sierra (MO).
Stone Pale Ale … surprisingly balance from an “extreme” brewer (CA).
Bell’s Pale Ale … not as notorious as Two Hearted (MI).
Rogue Juniper Ale … hopping augmented by juniper berries (OR).
In the name of science alone.
In early June, still resisting the budget-busting “cool” setting on the thermostat, I resolved to conduct an experiment. Proceeding eagerly to the refrigerator science lab, a 9% Ettaler Curator Doppelbock from Bavaria was produced. Would I be able to somehow choke down such a heavy, malty, challenging dark lager in overheated, sticky, pestilential conditions?
Yep. Not a problem at all.
Then again, I pay some other guy to mow the grass – and from the second floor window, he looked positively overheated.
Night was a wonderful time in Brooklyn in the 1930s. Air conditioning was unknown except in movie houses, and so was television. There was nothing to keep one in the house. Furthermore, few people owned automobiles, so there was nothing to carry one away. That left the streets and the stoops. The very fullness served as an inhibition to crime.
--Isaac Asimov
What sort of beer might the denizens of Asimov’s nostalgic borough have been drinking on the stoop during a hot summer’s night? Probably Schaefer or Rheingold, both local lagers at the time, or maybe even Ballantine Ale, which as a top-fermented beer would have been far rarer.
There is no surviving evidence that either Belgian-style Wit or Bavarian Hefe-Weizen were being recommended by newspaper columnists as ideal seasonal ales suitable for varying the routine, although there may well have been immigrants who recalled these styles from their childhoods abroad.
Today many of us are aware of expanded beer choices, but sadly there remain links between 1930’s-era fans hopping from a street car to queue for Ebbets Field bleacher seats and their grandchildren in 2007, multi-taskers buying advance tickets by cell phone off the Internet and arriving for the big game at Dodger Stadium in a fully-equipped SUV. Most beer drinkers still are brand-loyal, mechanically opting for the same mass-market golden lager beer that they always drink, rain or shine, heat or cold, indoor or outdoor.
----
The ubiquity of air conditioning quite honestly leaves me perplexed as I consider the genre of “lawnmower beer,” a stylistic umbrella term that playfully implies a brew suitable for the climactic extremes of summertime – lighter in body, milder in flavor, lower in alcohol, and more quaffable overall – while not specifying style.
Lest the disclaimer police intervene, “lawnmower beer” is not intended as the subliminal suggestion to drink gallons of it while actively engaged in the task of cutting grass, even if the padded seat situated atop the whirling blades of vegetation suppression comes equipped with a handy cup holder, designer huggies and perhaps even a dorm fridge in the sidecar.
Still, it does assume proximity to uncomfortable elements and those diverse warm weather outdoor venues for enjoying beer -- ballparks, patios, backyard barbecues and picnics – even if by now far more of my favorite beverage is being consumed inside where it’s cool, rather than outside in the encroaching aftermath of global warming.
Air-conditioned or open-air, when it comes to “lawnmower beer,” the styles preferred by the author more closely resemble the higher octane of liquid poured into the fuel tank as opposed to analogies with refreshing splashes from the garden hose when the clipping’s all through. Fortunately for this edition’s pay packet, there is a case to be made for friendly seasonal beer styles, at least as long as you save the fruit wedges for rum drinks. Please.
Ales made with wheat.
Apart from a few high-gravity specialties, the use of wheat alone almost axiomatically implies a “lawnmower beer.”
If based on the Belgian brewing tradition, wheat ale will be light-bodied, cloudy golden, and spiced with coriander and orange peel. Not unexpectedly, these ingredients yield a citrusy, consummately refreshing character. Common examples include Hoegaarden and Wittekerke, both imports, and Upland Wheat, a superior regional microbrew from Bloomington, Indiana.
German-style wheat ales are cousins to the Belgian, yet very different; generally unfiltered (“Hefe-”), golden but sometimes brown (“Dunkel”), and redolent with distinctive flavors of clove and fruit that derive entirely from the strain of yeast used to ferment them. Having traveled in Bavaria, I tend to stick to the imported Teutonic classics: Franziskaner, Weihenstephaner, Erdinger, Tucher, and my personal favorite, Schneider.
Closer to home, if microbrewed wheat ale is not otherwise tagged as Belgian or German, chances are it is what we now refer to as “American-style” wheat, fermented with ordinary ale yeast not specifically cultured for the nuances that identify continental variants. These wheaties come to your glass as designed, to be light, inoffensive, effervescent and quaffable, and so many competing brands exist – and there is so little difference between the bulk of them – that I’ll mention only one: Bell’s Oberon.
Inevitably, there is a degree of overlap between these categories. For instance, the presence of the “Hefe-” prefix on the label of microbrewed wheat ale emphatically does not guarantee that it was brewed with characteristically toothsome German wheat yeast, although in my view it should. Rather, the word in this context should be taken to imply unfiltered wheat ale brewed with regular ale yeast.
Toward refreshingly hoppy.
During the past quarter century, American microbrewers have established a reputation for improvisational exuberance, and among the very first instances of this willingness to expand boundaries is a style that many “extreme beer” aficionados now regard as quaint and almost dull: American Pale Ale, which adapts English traditions to contemporary, and primarily West Coast, indigenous ingredients. There is a vestige of similarity to the aforementioned Ballantine of old.
Gravities are modest, with alcohol contents rarely approaching 6%. Malt bills are simple, and hardy yeasts perform their conversion miracles quickly, leaving a medium body with a fruity and lightly toasty backbone. Bitterness is restrained, but floral hops like the Cascade variety offer piney, citrusy notes. If you taste grapefruit, it’s purely intentional, and it makes American Pale Ale a reliable thirst quencher on sultry afternoons.
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale remains a viable, dependable yardstick, but don’t stop there. Most microbreweries have contestants in a similar vein, including these:
BBC APA … founding brewer David Pierce’s Louisville classic (KY).
Schlafly Dry-Hopped APA … a shade milder than Sierra (MO).
Stone Pale Ale … surprisingly balance from an “extreme” brewer (CA).
Bell’s Pale Ale … not as notorious as Two Hearted (MI).
Rogue Juniper Ale … hopping augmented by juniper berries (OR).
In the name of science alone.
In early June, still resisting the budget-busting “cool” setting on the thermostat, I resolved to conduct an experiment. Proceeding eagerly to the refrigerator science lab, a 9% Ettaler Curator Doppelbock from Bavaria was produced. Would I be able to somehow choke down such a heavy, malty, challenging dark lager in overheated, sticky, pestilential conditions?
Yep. Not a problem at all.
Then again, I pay some other guy to mow the grass – and from the second floor window, he looked positively overheated.
Monday, November 05, 2007
UPDATE - "Mug Shots": From Finland to the zoo, and more.
It's time for another "Mug Shots" update.
For those just tuning in, every two weeks the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) publishes a 300-word essay about beer written by the Curmudgeon.
Although I had my doubts at first (my topic sentences tend to run 300 words), it has proven to be great fun and good practice in self-discipline, something for which I'm not universally noted.
Here are the links to recent articles:
Mug Shots: Finnish beer and subtlety
(October 31, 2007)
Mug Shots: Lupulus eroticus
(October 17, 2007)
Mug Shots: A case of the DTs in Belgium
(October 3, 2007)
Mug Shots: Germany’s Oktoberfest — once bitten, twice shy
(September 19, 2007)
Mug Shots: Madison’s got game
(September 5, 2007)
Mug Shots: Gulp with the gators, slurp with the sloths
(August 22, 2007)
For those just tuning in, every two weeks the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) publishes a 300-word essay about beer written by the Curmudgeon.
Although I had my doubts at first (my topic sentences tend to run 300 words), it has proven to be great fun and good practice in self-discipline, something for which I'm not universally noted.
Here are the links to recent articles:
Mug Shots: Finnish beer and subtlety
(October 31, 2007)
Mug Shots: Lupulus eroticus
(October 17, 2007)
Mug Shots: A case of the DTs in Belgium
(October 3, 2007)
Mug Shots: Germany’s Oktoberfest — once bitten, twice shy
(September 19, 2007)
Mug Shots: Madison’s got game
(September 5, 2007)
Mug Shots: Gulp with the gators, slurp with the sloths
(August 22, 2007)
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Beer hunter Michael Jackson has died; worldwide good beer community mourns today.
It always was my hope that there'd be a second visit to the Public House by beer writer Michael Jackson. Sadly, it isn't to be.
Joyfully, his role in teaching us about beer will be celebrated for as long as there is a craft brewing business.
As always, ironies abound. I'd just finished posting about essential beer books, smiled inwardly at my memories of meeting Jackson at Rich O's and later in Denver, and then I checked my e-mail, only to learn that Jackson died last evening.
There'll be eulogies by the thousands, written and spoken by people in good beer circles who recognize the almost unfathomable extent of Jackson's contribution to the success we enjoy today. The hyperbole is deserved, because he made us all.
I'll have more to write when there's time; the show truly must go on, and we have a Bamberg-centric draft beer event kicking off on Friday. If not for Jackson, would I have visited Bamberg when I did? Would I have chosen to make good beer my life's work?
The weekend's beers are going to have his imprint, and I'm having the first one now.
All About Beer is the first place to turn for an appreciation. There'll be others, and I'll collect them at another time.
Joyfully, his role in teaching us about beer will be celebrated for as long as there is a craft brewing business.
As always, ironies abound. I'd just finished posting about essential beer books, smiled inwardly at my memories of meeting Jackson at Rich O's and later in Denver, and then I checked my e-mail, only to learn that Jackson died last evening.
There'll be eulogies by the thousands, written and spoken by people in good beer circles who recognize the almost unfathomable extent of Jackson's contribution to the success we enjoy today. The hyperbole is deserved, because he made us all.
I'll have more to write when there's time; the show truly must go on, and we have a Bamberg-centric draft beer event kicking off on Friday. If not for Jackson, would I have visited Bamberg when I did? Would I have chosen to make good beer my life's work?
The weekend's beers are going to have his imprint, and I'm having the first one now.
All About Beer is the first place to turn for an appreciation. There'll be others, and I'll collect them at another time.
A few good beer books.
A reader asks:
I'm thinking about getting into home brewing, and I'd like to just become more knowledgeable about beer and the craft beer industry in general. Do you know of any good books to read on one or all three subjects (home brewing, the industry, and beer overall)? A cursory search in Amazon yielded plenty of results, but I figured you might have a good suggestion or two.
Following are quick, off-the-cuff suggestions designed much like a personal “Top Five.” The list is not intended to be comprehensive, and reader additions are appreciated. Perhaps we can come up with a worthy “Top Ten.”
I may not think much of Charlie Papazian when it comes to his beer industry dabbling outside homebrewing, but when it comes to homebrewing, his New Complete Joy of Home Brewing probably remains the best place to start for aspiring homebrewers.
The classic “great beer” texts by Michael Jackson are still out there, and worth it for the always elegant writing, although the information is dated in older editions. Go to his Beer Hunter website and read the many archived columns there, then look around for used copies of the warhorses from the 1980’s.
Garrett Oliver's The Brewmaster's Table is a recent essential volume. The subtitle says it all: “Discovering the Pleasures of Real Beer with Real Food.” However, it’s also a wonderful overview of beer styles.
wordpress.com/the-book/">Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World, by Christopher Mark O’Brien. Need I say more?
For insight into the microbrewing business, I like Sam Calagione’s Brewing Up a Business: Adventures in Entrepreneurship from the Founder of Dogfish Head Craft Brewery. He has another book called
Extreme Brewing: An Enthusiast's Guide to Brewing Craft Beer at Home, but I haven’t yet read it.
Readers?
I'm thinking about getting into home brewing, and I'd like to just become more knowledgeable about beer and the craft beer industry in general. Do you know of any good books to read on one or all three subjects (home brewing, the industry, and beer overall)? A cursory search in Amazon yielded plenty of results, but I figured you might have a good suggestion or two.
Following are quick, off-the-cuff suggestions designed much like a personal “Top Five.” The list is not intended to be comprehensive, and reader additions are appreciated. Perhaps we can come up with a worthy “Top Ten.”
I may not think much of Charlie Papazian when it comes to his beer industry dabbling outside homebrewing, but when it comes to homebrewing, his New Complete Joy of Home Brewing probably remains the best place to start for aspiring homebrewers.
The classic “great beer” texts by Michael Jackson are still out there, and worth it for the always elegant writing, although the information is dated in older editions. Go to his Beer Hunter website and read the many archived columns there, then look around for used copies of the war
Garrett Oliver's The Brewmaster's Table is a recent essential volume. The subtitle says it all: “Discovering the Pleasures of Real Beer with Real Food.” However, it’s also a wonderful overview of beer styles.
wordpress.com/the-book/">Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World, by Christopher Mark O’Brien. Need I say more?
For insight into the microbrewing business, I like Sam Calagione’s Brewing Up a Business: Adventures in Entrepreneurship from the Founder of Dogfish Head Craft Brewery. He has another book called
Extreme Brewing: An Enthusiast's Guide to Brewing Craft Beer at Home, but I haven’t yet read it.
Readers?
Thursday, June 28, 2007
A Mug Shots dialogue in LEO.
When I learned that a Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) reader had written to the editor of the alternative weekly newspaper to take me to task for a viewpoint expressed in my twice-monthly Mug Shots column, I was absolutely ecstatic.
It meant that someone was reading. You should know that writers are vain that way; we like to be read, as opposed to unread. If any of us tell you differently, don't believe it.
Following is the original letter and the response that I was asked to compose. Since then, I've thought at some length about the perspective expressed by Mr. Knisely, and while I'm sticking with my answer -- rather diplomatic by my usual standards (thanks, Cary) -- it seems to me that his complaint is analogous to that of Harpo Marx, as explained by his brother Chico, who watched as the silent comic angrily tore a book to shreds:
“He gets mad because he can’t read.”
----
Not Hoppy
Frequently in Roger Baylor’s Mug Shots column, we readers receive lessons about why we should drink delicious local craft beer, and why we should never waste our time or money on mass-produced and mass-marketed megabrewery beer.
I can relate to the sentiment. Seriously. Being a fan of independent restaurants and music and movies, I naturally see the good reasons for avoiding McBeer or Wal*Beer. But I am consistently frustrated by Baylor and the microbreweries in town for taking such a good idea and making it almost completely inaccessible to those of us who do not enjoy heavy, hoppy beer.
Some of us who do love beer just so happen to honestly prefer a light-tasting (if not low-cal), smooth lager that doesn’t taste like a glass full of hops. What are we to do? Does Baylor’s NABC (New Albanian Brewing Co.) offer us the quality craft beer that we want? There’s BBC, and sure, they rarely have Darby on tap, but it’s never bottled and sold in stores like their other brews. Cumberland Brews? Nope.
If we can’t go to one of the local brewing establishments and get a non-hoppy smooth lager, let alone go home with a couple six-packs to put in the fridge for at-home enjoyment on a Sunday afternoon, is it any wonder that we’ll end up just going to the liquor store on the corner to obtain a light lager that we can afford and whose taste and availability we can rely on? Please, Mr. Baylor & Co., scolding us into drinking beer we don’t like doesn’t help us. We sincerely want to frequent your establishments and stock your local brews in our refrigerators. Please consider crafting a lager that isn’t all humulus, and we’ll gladly consider swearing off the McBeer.
--Derek Knisely, Louisville
----
***Editor’s Note: LEO ran this letter by Roger Baylor to see if he had any comments or recommendations. Here’s what he had to say:
I sincerely regret that Mr. Knisely isn’t into Humulus lupulus, but fortunately there are less hoppy styles of beer to suit every prospective beer advocate like him. As these pertain to Louisville’s craft brewers, it should first be remembered that apart from the downtown BBC brewing and bottling facility (Main & Clay), they deal primarily in draft beer, not bottles. Finding a locally brewed “light-tasting … smooth lager” that is both golden and bottled and coming to you at a price point similar to regional and multinational brewers won’t always be easy, because economies of scale differ when it comes to production and distribution.
Furthermore, small craft brewers generally don’t aim to fill stylistic niches like light lager because industrial brewers do them benignly and cheaply. That said, BBC (Shelbyville Road) brews Kolsch; BBC (Main & Clay) has Gold; Browning’s has a Helles; Cumberland Brews makes Cream Ale; and NABC does the dark but very light flavored Community Dark. All of them fit Mr. Knisely’s description, albeit it on tap. Growlers, anyone? —Roger Baylor
It meant that someone was reading. You should know that writers are vain that way; we like to be read, as opposed to unread. If any of us tell you differently, don't believe it.
Following is the original letter and the response that I was asked to compose. Since then, I've thought at some length about the perspective expressed by Mr. Knisely, and while I'm sticking with my answer -- rather diplomatic by my usual standards (thanks, Cary) -- it seems to me that his complaint is analogous to that of Harpo Marx, as explained by his brother Chico, who watched as the silent comic angrily tore a book to shreds:
“He gets mad because he can’t read.”
----
Not Hoppy
Frequently in Roger Baylor’s Mug Shots column, we readers receive lessons about why we should drink delicious local craft beer, and why we should never waste our time or money on mass-produced and mass-marketed megabrewery beer.
I can relate to the sentiment. Seriously. Being a fan of independent restaurants and music and movies, I naturally see the good reasons for avoiding McBeer or Wal*Beer. But I am consistently frustrated by Baylor and the microbreweries in town for taking such a good idea and making it almost completely inaccessible to those of us who do not enjoy heavy, hoppy beer.
Some of us who do love beer just so happen to honestly prefer a light-tasting (if not low-cal), smooth lager that doesn’t taste like a glass full of hops. What are we to do? Does Baylor’s NABC (New Albanian Brewing Co.) offer us the quality craft beer that we want? There’s BBC, and sure, they rarely have Darby on tap, but it’s never bottled and sold in stores like their other brews. Cumberland Brews? Nope.
If we can’t go to one of the local brewing establishments and get a non-hoppy smooth lager, let alone go home with a couple six-packs to put in the fridge for at-home enjoyment on a Sunday afternoon, is it any wonder that we’ll end up just going to the liquor store on the corner to obtain a light lager that we can afford and whose taste and availability we can rely on? Please, Mr. Baylor & Co., scolding us into drinking beer we don’t like doesn’t help us. We sincerely want to frequent your establishments and stock your local brews in our refrigerators. Please consider crafting a lager that isn’t all humulus, and we’ll gladly consider swearing off the McBeer.
--Derek Knisely, Louisville
----
***Editor’s Note: LEO ran this letter by Roger Baylor to see if he had any comments or recommendations. Here’s what he had to say:
I sincerely regret that Mr. Knisely isn’t into Humulus lupulus, but fortunately there are less hoppy styles of beer to suit every prospective beer advocate like him. As these pertain to Louisville’s craft brewers, it should first be remembered that apart from the downtown BBC brewing and bottling facility (Main & Clay), they deal primarily in draft beer, not bottles. Finding a locally brewed “light-tasting … smooth lager” that is both golden and bottled and coming to you at a price point similar to regional and multinational brewers won’t always be easy, because economies of scale differ when it comes to production and distribution.
Furthermore, small craft brewers generally don’t aim to fill stylistic niches like light lager because industrial brewers do them benignly and cheaply. That said, BBC (Shelbyville Road) brews Kolsch; BBC (Main & Clay) has Gold; Browning’s has a Helles; Cumberland Brews makes Cream Ale; and NABC does the dark but very light flavored Community Dark. All of them fit Mr. Knisely’s description, albeit it on tap. Growlers, anyone? —Roger Baylor
Thursday, May 03, 2007
LEO on the "import invasion," and another "Mug Shots" archive addition.
Last week’s Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) included its annual “Nightlife” insert. Local free lancer Kevin Gibson, who over the years has contributed a number of worthy articles on the local beer scene, wrote this piece:
Nightlife 2007 - Does the import invasion mean farewell to ‘fizzy yellow beer’?
That high-quality, high-priced import you’re drinking? It might actually be more high-priced than high-quality — nevertheless, it carries an important connotation: The public, looking for something different, is drinking more imports and craft brews than ever. Craft beer sales rose nearly 12 percent in 2006, according to the Oregon-based non-profit Brewers Association, and data from a MindBranch.com market research study suggests that beer drinkers are “trading up” because they see import and craft beers as an affordable luxury.
Kevin gives due props to Maido Essential Japanese owner Jim Huie and “Beer Dave” Gausepohl of Kentucky’s Bryant Distributing. Of course, the Curmudgeon is quoted, too. He adores the press.
Here’s the roundup on my recently published “Mug Shots” articles in LEO:
Mug Shots: 5 spots to get your brew on.
(May 2, 2007)
Mug Shots: Simple times called for Phoenix Kommon.
(April 18, 2007)
Mug Shots: Good beer isn’t hard to find.
(April 4, 2007)
Nightlife 2007 - Does the import invasion mean farewell to ‘fizzy yellow beer’?
That high-quality, high-priced import you’re drinking? It might actually be more high-priced than high-quality — nevertheless, it carries an important connotation: The public, looking for something different, is drinking more imports and craft brews than ever. Craft beer sales rose nearly 12 percent in 2006, according to the Oregon-based non-profit Brewers Association, and data from a MindBranch.com market research study suggests that beer drinkers are “trading up” because they see import and craft beers as an affordable luxury.
Kevin gives due props to Maido Essential Japanese owner Jim Huie and “Beer Dave” Gausepohl of Kentucky’s Bryant Distributing. Of course, the Curmudgeon is quoted, too. He adores the press.
Here’s the roundup on my recently published “Mug Shots” articles in LEO:
Mug Shots: 5 spots to get your brew on.
(May 2, 2007)
Mug Shots: Simple times called for Phoenix Kommon.
(April 18, 2007)
Mug Shots: Good beer isn’t hard to find.
(April 4, 2007)
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