Historical Potables

Once again, my friend Ed alerted me to this story on beer. The short version: a firefighter at the Hindenburg disaster found some beer that survived the event and a bottle is going up for auction now.

In a related tale, explorers have discovered some of the whiskey that Ernest Shackleton left behind on his failed journey in the Antarctic.

One interesting difference between these two stories is that the whiskey might still be drinkable. Granted, this is partly due to storage conditions and the preservative agents in whiskey vs. beer but to me this is also about the culture. Beer just isn’t meant to be kept forever; you sit down with people and you share it.

Whiskey, especially good whiskey, has that ’save it because it’s precious’ vibe that has most people waiting for that moment. There are some beers that do this too; I’m thinking especially of the hype (and oh man, the HYPE) surrounding Deschutes’ Abyss stout, but other winter ales frequently inspire a ‘collector’s’ vibe to them too.

The difference between the first two stories and the collector’s vibe, to me, is simple; the former are historical artifacts. They tell us about the past and with study could further inform us about the effects of time upon these things. Collecting food just to have it strikes me as an act of the starving. Some people do store beers like Abyss (which is a fine stout, I just tire of the hype) so they can do ‘vertical tastings’ that is, samples from a beer over a range of time to see, for example, how the ‘05 stacks up to the ‘09 and these tastings are usually done in groups but I’m not sure what they prove.

On the other hand, they don’t have to prove anything, they can just be fun. My hope is that people are collecting for just such a tasting, as an excuse to get together and enjoy not just horde for another day.

52 Weeks 51: Bayern Doppelbock

Technically, I think I’ve gone over. Borrowed time, if you will. I know I missed one week due to weather and I believe I missed another because I was ill. A year has passed-if the calendar is the only thing that matters. Let’s pretend it isn’t. 

This doppelbock has some red wine tendencies; a faint grape-sour nose, maybe even something tannic on the back end. Gives the beer a dryness that I wouldn’t have expected. It’s sweet in front though, so it all works out. 

I’m here early. You may have deduced that from the photo. The pub is quieter, for the most part and I get to have a nice conversation with a longhaired dude who knows a thing or two about music. He’s from Wisconsin and is about to go home for Thanksgiving. As a matter of fact, there’s even a reasonable crowd of people here  for 4:30. 

I don’t remember it being quite so lively this early a year ago. This may just be a random impression; anecdotes are not data, right? Still, glad to see one of my favorite bars doing good business. 

I unwisely chose Heater Allen’s Pilsner after my doppelbock and I just can’t make out the subtleties of that beer. Usually it doesn’t matter but I may be fending off a slight cold. A sore throat at least, so my senses may not be as sharp as I’d like. A good beer I’m sure but everything has context, right? Serenity  is a fantastic movie if you’ve seen Firefly. If not, then it’s just a decent sci-fi movie. So it is with a pilsner post doppelbock. Sort of. 

Hurm. I seem to be a little scattershot today. Maybe it’s the time but I think it’s more likely that the pressure of doing something is there. As a matter of fact, I know it is; I can feel it, alien-chestburster-like, (images not for squeamish and may be frowned upon at workplaces) the feeling that I should say something important or…well, I guess that’s what I’d have a chance to do here, right? Say something important.

However, what I’ve realized is that change is primarily about changing the focus of your energy. So things won’t end, they’ll just shift for awhile. Why say something big and ‘final’ if things aren’t going to end? I’d be like the guy who screams that the nukes are coming and then emerges sheepishly the next day from a bomb shelter, humbled by the beauty of a sunrise and a city that hasn’t changed at all. 

Next week will be the final 52 Weeks post (at least the final of this edition) and I can’t say I have something special planned for next week. I believe that’s how it ought to be. Like I said; I’m on borrowed time already, so I might as well just enjoy. I’ll be done with the writing by 8:30 though, so if readers would like to come and have a drink, feel free to come down.

Fresh Hop Ale

Sometimes things work out better than expected. Although we lost part of the garden this year-notably, the part of the garden where the hops grew-I was able to use some of them in an IPA.

The beer in the picture is a little bit more effervescent than most of the bottles I open but it’s not an extreme exaggeration. This beer is a touch sweeter than is appropriate for the style but the sweetness comes from a different angle; there’s a green quality to it that I can only presume comes from the Galena (and touches of Willamette) hops that I picked and used that day. They generally say that hop plants won’t produce much in the first year but I got quite a few from the Galena. Maybe the hops don’t produce much in the way of bitterness their first year: I just don’t know enough botany to say. I can tell you that this IPA doesn’t have the strong bitterness qualities that are typically associated with NW IPAs, so it might make a good ‘gateway’ beer. The malts are a little overpowering though, so it might be too sweet for some people.

The nose is a soft one; this IPA is probably closer to a pale and maybe should be drank as such. A solid beer though and one that makes me wish I had more hops to look forward to next year. As it stands, I’ll have to take stock of the condition of the garden before making any plans.

Recipe for Fresh Hop IPA, 9/7/09
Steeping Grains
6 oz Munich 100
6 oz Munich
11 oz Caramel 80
Fermenting Sugars
7 lb Light malt extract- dry
Hops
3.5 oz Galena (fresh) @ 60
5 oz Santitam pellets @20
Yeast
2 packets Rogue Pacman (new packets)
OG 1.082
FG 1.018
Put into secondary 9/17, bottled 10/8.
From my notes:
8.38% ABV! Wow. Be careful with this one.

The waystop just got better

When I was younger, my family often took road trips to Seattle. En route we would usually stop at Ellensburg to refuel the car and stretch our legs, occasionally hitting a fast food joint for lunch before moving on. This is what people knew Ellensburg for; a city you passed through to go somewhere else.

The Iron Horse Brewery is going to change all that for those who love the pints, if it hasn’t already.

The High Five Hefe has a honey tint that is just delicious. The nose doesn’t betray any sweetness, so the flavor comes as a real surprise. Instead, the nose is doughy and almost a touch sour, like celery. A surprising beer for me, because I find many hefes to be uninteresting but this beer was complex and tasted great.

The Quilter’s Irish Death however was the hit of the party for me. A real eye-opener because it says it’s a dark ale and as a general rule I don’t like dark ales. But this beer has a velvety quality to it, almost like a stout, but without the density of stouts or the bitterness that a stout or porter ought to have. I really, really liked this brew a lot and recommend it.

Or, I would if I could find the beer. Ellensburg is probably four hours north from me and I have the damnedest time finding Iron Horse’s beers in my vicinity. I don’t know why it’s so difficult to get beers from smaller breweries in Washington, or beers from Vancouver, Canada in Portland but my searches are frequently fruitless and in the case of Iron Horse that’s a shame, because people ought to know how good this stuff is. Fuz can find them but apparently it’s much more difficult to get beers to Portland than Tacoma.

That sentence should never have to be written in a just world.

52 Weeks 50: Great Divide Stout Trio

I’m cheating a little bit, tonight.

A few days earlier, I came to Bailey’s and played a few rounds of cards. Through the graciousness of my friends (thank you Jim + thedrowningman) I was able to try the delectable group of Yeti stouts from Great Divide.

Usually when I come to do my 52 Weeks post, novelty is important. As a matter of fact, one of the reasons I chose to post from Bailey’s is that I was able to try new beers and discuss them, however peripherally.

Truth be told, I damn near  had Ninkasi’s Transcendent Golden Ale. It was even recommended to me by someone (although I have to confess I do not remember whom: such is the nature of drink, yes?) and I like to try things based on someone’s suggestion. Not that I doubt Ninkasi; they do good stuff.

For those who are interested, I am drinking the Espresso Stout first, followed by the Chocolate, and finally the Cask Conditioned. Most favorite last; I like the oak flavors that are imparted to the stout best and coffee flavors least. Not a surprise if you know me; I’ve never had a taste for coffee, ever.

I’m also sitting in the back corner at a table that is too high for me to write on comfortably. No, I don’t like it, but I felt it was important to come back here and sit, drink, and exist in this space that I usually ignore. Across the street from me are two shops that have closed recently; one a record store, the other a locksmith shop. I have to say; I worry when stores close, especially small ones, that provide local services that aren’t fungible. Making keys is important. Providing vinyl for trance and hip-hop shows as well as being a space that is welcoming to those cultures (via flyers, t-shirts, etc.)  is an important service.

They’re gone now. Something else will take their place I’m sure, I just worry that it will be another restaurant, an establishment that Portland is glutted with, instead of a more diverse business.

I worry because I am out of work.

I know, I know, last week I said I wasn’t going to focus on the negative. But the best laid plans of mice and men, yes?

I had a rough week, last week, and positives are harder to see when blankets of misfortune cover the couch of your life. Sure, you can throw off the blanket but is it so the warmth of the morning can be felt, or is too early and night’s grinning chill can make its way up your toes and into your undies?

Do you really want to risk getting a chill in your undies?

Of course, the chocolate Yeti fights off a chill something fierce, so there’s a reason to drink stouts in the winter, folks. It’s yummy and warming like hour three chocolate cake.

Theory #402: beer makes life’s risks more acceptable. Chill in the undies doesn’t seem so bad if there’s stout.

Let me tell you about the back corner of Bailey’s.

In the computer light I cast a glow in the window; ghostly and muddled. My reflection is doubled somehow, making me look a little like a 3-D drawing, only in washed out colors of streetlight peach and laptop gray. The conversation of the Brits to my right is funneled down to me, unlike the main area where sound gets obfuscated by walls, music and hanging mobiles. I can’t make out what they’re saying-but I’m not trying to either.

It is the spot to make deals in, the spot for dark talk skullduggery style, the spot for sweetness that nuzzles your neck, the spot where you tell your friend that yeah, you’re bonded to her, that you’ve got his back, or you become bawdy and loveably raucous. It is a wonderfully private space in an otherwise open pub. It is a moment where you can be raw and nobody else will mind.

I’m onto the oak-aged stout now, and let me tell you it is fyyyne.
/I’ll probably hate myself tomorrow for doing that, but what the hell. I’m cheating.

Edit/Correction: I’m told the record store is still there (the papered up windows just fooled me) and the key store has gone mobile. So things aren’t as bad as I thought. Lesson of the evening.

Lazy Friday

Fuz alerted me to this slideshow and article at the New York Times about this year’s hop harvest. It’s a cool collection of ideas and images for the beer lover.

One thing I got from the article that I think is very interesting is that some breweries have started planting their own hops. I like this for a few reasons; the entrepreneurship and the connection to growing food being the two biggest ones. People need to know how much effort goes into making the food they love and what steps might need to be taken to keep the people making that food paid well enough to continue with their efforts. If beer can provide an avenue for more people to realize how important it is to pay farmers well and take care of the land so the substances grown are tasty and good for us, then all the better.

But if you don’t care about any of those things, you can just say ‘Neat!’ and be done with it too.

As an interesting coincidence, the local paper had an article on what’s now become a glut of hops being harvested and in some cases unused. A glut that won’t even lower the price of beer! In a larger sense, I think this helps illustrate how complicated and interrelated the world can be.

Measure twice, cut once

As I went to bottle my beer last Wednesday, my racking wand broke.

This is the magic wand that I use to transfer beer from the carboy into bottles; if it’s broken, then I can’t bottle and I think the problem can be easily deducted from there. The obvious solution is to go get a new wand but when I arrive at the store there isn’t one that matchs mine. So I need to buy a new syphon.

After looking at the syphons I buy the one that I swear looks exactly like the one I own. My first mistake; not bringing the original syphon down  to compare, just getting one that ‘looks’ the same. I figure; hey, if the wand is broken, who cares? I can still use the other parts of the syphon including the hose and save myself some money (which is just a wee bit important these days.)

I get the parts home and I cannot fit the racking cane tube into the hose that I have. The hose is too small.

Now; here’s where I make my second mistake. Instead of thinking: ‘You know, I bet I should’ve gotten the smaller syphon. Maybe I should go and exchange this one for that one,’ I think: ‘Well, I guess I need a new hose.’ So it’s back to the store to get a new hose. And crimp for the hose so I can control the flow of beer.

However, the hose is too big now! The beer is coming out of the carboy too fast and the bottles are filling up with foam instead of beer. Even when I crimp it, the beer is mixing with so much air and coming out so quickly that I’m getting bottles half-full of froth. That just can’t be good. Now I’ve used the damn thing though so I can’t return it. It’s not broken-I just flat out screwed up. In addition, I’ve made a huge mess, spilling beer everywhere trying to fill bottles to the appropriate level. Some bottles are too full. Most aren’t full enough. I have no idea what will happen to my brew as a result of this.

So it’s off to the hardware store! There, a very patient and kind woman helped me sift through components that could be used to attach my large hose to the small one. After a solid  fifteen minutes of searching we finally found a brass piece that would work.

The whole thing ran me a little over twenty bucks and ate about a third of my day and it should’ve cost me closer to ten and taken up a tenth of my time. And I still don’t know if it will work out; I am going to be using the new syphon tomorrow, so we shall see, yes? If it works then that’s great. I now have a cool cyborg-esque looking syphon and beer to boot. Sure, I’m out at least two pints of beer, but that’s better than the mess of being out an entire batch of beer because the filling process went all kittywampus on me.

I offer this tale as a warning to my readers; when something goes wrong with your equipment, bring everything you think you’ll need in order to fix the problem and don’t make assumptions.

52 Weeks 49: Leavenworth Nosferatu

I pretty much had to get this beer because of the name. Next week it just wouldn’t be as much fun to drink.

Tho’ honestly, it’s not that much fun to drink right now. For a red ale it feels a little thin in the body and has quite the bitter punctuation afterward. I can’t help but think that I’m just missing something with this beer, though. Maybe it’s intentionally tilted towards IPAs? But neglecting the body of a red ale-that just seems out of whack, you know? I realize the name is something to live up to, but I’d rather sink my teeth into this beer than have it the other way around.

I’m drinking it in a hurry, so I can have another. I don’t feel I can be blamed for this.

Reflecting generally makes me pensive. Birthdays, New Year’s Eve, anniversaries; I tend to look at  things in such a way that tilts toward the grim. I’m going to try and change this for the coming event. I can’t say that things have turned out the way I thought they would when I started this project but I’d like to try and frame my viewpoint in a way that lets me see the benefits this time.

If change is a constant in the Universe (and let’s just say that it is) then that makes the rough times easier to endure, the better days sweeter to enjoy, and maybe the ability to let it all be what it is and let it go when things are said and done. I don’t mean to get too metaphysical; some of the hard truths of my unemployment are there right in front of my audience. But it isn’t all bad and I would like to approach the next three weeks with that in mind. 

A man just walked into the joint, navy blue fleece with a white logo on the back and a baseball cap, unhappily demanding a shot with a $100 bill. When he found out there was no liquor to have, he bought someone at the bar a drink in an exasperated way, tipped five bucks, and left. Outside the bar he had what appeared to be a fruitless discussion with another man in a white jacket and baseball cap (but no blue logo, which would’ve been delicious) and disappeared. 

In comparison, I’m having a pretty good night as I happened to be at the bar when this gentleman ordered his drink, so I got the beer. A Hale’s fresh hop ale, which is smooth and biscuity. His loss is certainly my gain, so I’m giving a little ‘thanks, man’ to that random stranger. Someday I’ll have $100 to break and by god I’ll buy someone a beer with it. 

And finally, a brief apology to my readers; I had Friday’s post all set up and I just forgot to publish it. Of course, this comes right after I have a conversation with Jim about respecting your audience. The timing is perfect, right? Just like when the color announcer in a football game tells you that the Seahawks haven’t thrown an interception all game, you just know that the next play Hass is tossing it to someone he shouldn’t. 

Ah well. I’ll post it soon.

IPA 4

So the fourth IPA of the year has been brewed and sometimes it looks just fine…but sometimes it looks like this:

I wish I knew why my beers were becoming so carbonated! Granted, it’s better than the last beer, which was flat. And there’s no way the nose can be missed, the spicy Amarillo hops coming right on up and saying hello. In addition, the head of the beer deflates very quickly so the brew is drinkable in a short time, just not right out of the bottle. If there’s any consolation it would be that the beer tastes pretty good, despite having a very, very bitter back end. I realized afterward that I shorted the malts in the wort by nearly two pounds. That’s the kind of thing that makes a difference.

I guess I’m getting to the point as a homebrewer where I want to get it right. Maybe not perfect, but right at least. I’m not sure what I’ll have to do to step things up though, at this point. My first thought is; submit my beers to be judged in some competitions. If nothing else, the OBC has monthly competitions and I think my project for 2010 will be to produce beers for them to get some feedback. In the meantime, here’s the recipe I used.

Steeping grains:
1 lb Caramel 120
.5 lb Munich

Fermenting sugars:
7 lb LME

Hops:
5 oz Liberty hop pellets @60
1 oz Galena @ 30
1oz Amarillo @15
1/4 tsp Irish Moss @ 5

Wyeast 1728, reused from the Scottish Ale I made earlier.

Approximately 1 oz of Amarillo hops was also used in secondary as a dry hop

OG: 1.069

FG: 1.017
1.026 apparent final

6.78% ABV

52 Weeks 48: Hopworks Diabilto

In a rare moment, I have deliberately chosen a photo. Or perhaps better said; deliberately set up my photo. I didn’t quite get the star shaped light coming from behind my hat that I was hoping for but it still seemed more interesting than my typical photos. 

Fuz has come down to visit, and he’s reading a play by a man I’ve never heard of while I write. There’s a man behind him saying that he ought to take it easy tonight, because he has a presentation to give tomorrow but when his companion suggests no more drinks, he says “Are you kidding? I’m a fuckin’ professor of this shit. Another beer.”

Then he starts to sing Puff the Magic Dragon. 

Over my shoulder is a man in solid neu-hiking regalia; beaten baseball cap, REI raincoat, backpack, glasses. He’s all set for a hike in the woods. And he’s sleeping, chin to breast, slumped over crashed out. At 9 p.m. 

So it’s one of those nights. The day sucked in beer-related ways and I’ll be detailing that for everyone on Wednesday, but for now I have company and so things aren’t so bad.

The Diabilto (which I’ll just confess I got because of two parts name, one part lineage) is a bit doughy on the nose and then a thin, sweeter beer after that. It’s not bad but it’s very far away from the beer I feel like having. This is too fizzy, it’s thin in a way that I am not approving of. I’m wanting to act like Pac-Man, wakka-wakka-wakka-ing through my ales and this beer is not a power pellet. No monsters to turn blue here, just an ale I’m trying to drink to get through to the next one. 

Again; it’s not a bad beer but it has met me on the wrong night. 

Last week, I mentioned to Sparky that the end of this project was coming up. He and I began to talk about about going to pubs and our particular motivation to do so. He suggested that I should write about why I drink and while I’ll admit that it’s a tempting topic I’m wary of making some kind of definitive statement about such a topic. 

Humanity has been drinking for a long, long time and the subject is one that invites big, sweeping statements that should have wedges of human insight. Or are just the ramblings of a drunk and I don’t feel like doing either, so perhaps this is the kind of subject that requires a bit of pondering. 

Instead, I think I’m going to finish up this post and play some cards with my friend. While I’m all for asking questions, I am almost old enough to understand that questions don’t always need answers.