Bastogne La Truffette Belledete

"Ew."

This week I am joined by my friend and beer brewing partner, Omar (Omargeddon on G+ and facesbook). We are drinking a bottle we found that looked to have a lot of potential, but ended up simply begging the question: does being a summer wheat beer excuse an un-enjoyable taste if imbibed in winter?  And, I'm with Omar on this one when I say "no".  No sir, I don't like it.

-Swish, swirl, stare, sip, ponder, say, "I think this horse was diabetic."

                                      -A Witty Person

-It's like concentrated Miller Lite-

                                      -Omar

Bastogne La Trouffetee Belle d'ete, a summer wheat with coriander and orange peel.  Brewed at Brasserie de Bastogne, Belgium. 1pint, 9.4 oz, 5.7% ABV. Golden amber with a modest head.

The label is pleasing and features an ugly wood-block boar, evocative of Asian shadow puppets. Why?  Because Belgium, that's why.   The whole look is fun, but not special.  In a bold move  the label offers the e-mail address, info@brasseriedebastogne.be, so, if you have questions (or dick-pics) have fun with that.  Perhaps they would like to see your bottle and cork?

Our opinion is that this beer is crap.  I mean that nicely.  Nice, nice, crap.  Don't drink it.  It's probably low-carb.  Who knows, this swill might be organic or some shit.  At first sip, there is bitterness and a sharp chill.  The advertised coriander and orange peel make themselves known, followed by... disappointment.  Do you remember in that one episode of Better Off Ted, when they have the guy taste testing the lab-grown meat, and they ask him what it tastes like?  He responds, "...despair?"  I'm not saying this beer tastes like despair.  I'm saying Omar nailed it with concentrated Miller Lite.  

The taste break-down... well, I don't care.  It is gross and I don't want to think about it.  I'm sure there are many many good and honest people who might drink this and enjoy it whole-heartedly.  But, that ain't me.  And it ain't Omar.  So, to all those people: good news, you can have mine.

Should you find yourself in a back-alley drinking contest against the Germans, and it all comes down to this final chug, feel free to forget to spin the boot.  Yes, you will lose and be lame forever, but at least you won't have to finish a glass of this shit.

Working Stiff Ale

Long day? Overwrought? Stressed? Well, gowdamit, drink! According to this beer, you need to drink this beer.  After all, nothing caps off a long day of sobriety and meaningful contributions to society like a pint of ironic ale.

Working Stiff Ale from Texas Big Beer Brewery in Buna, Texas.  1 pint 6 oz bottle.  6.6% ABV. Golden amber.  Still no foamy goodness after the first 30 seconds (why do they deny me?).

I like a good beer as much as the next guy.  Who wouldn't?  Especially if you are standing next to me!  So, you know how in movies and on the TV people will go to bars and ask for "a beer" (?!?) and the gruff bartender will slide them a tall cool frosty mug of some amber goodness?  This is what that beer should taste like.  It isn't magnificent.  It isn't special.  It is exactly what it needs to be in order to be a solid after-work beer.

The label depicts an alcoholic burying his work ethic, and the name dares you to wonder if he took Viagra before he got to the work site that day.  It asserts that its influences are the pub ales of 1800's London, with their lightness and balance and hops and blah blah blah... whatever, who cares.  Drinking time.

Not a lot to say, really.  This is, as it claims to be, a well balanced, light, drinkable, nice beer.  They made a solid damn beer.  Drink it, you'll see.  It isn't super costly.  Neither is it hard to find.  But.. hrm...

You know what? While this is certainly a damn decent beer, and I am enjoying drinking it, don't buy one for yourself.  Drink it on someone else's dime.  Unless you are just dying to know what this tastes like, you can live a long and full life without ever spending your own money on this good beer.  In a nutshell, while this beer is nothing to write a blog about, it is also one of the few beers I've put in my face that I have absolutely no complaints about either.  So, drink it or don't, it is a no-lose scenario.

13th Centure Grut Bier

Sometimes you see something truly interesting on the local beer shelf.  You think to yourself, "Why not? I dare do all that may become a man."  It was in that Shakespearean moment that I read the following on a strange and interesting bottle:
   
     "Grut bier has roots in many cultures and each culture has it's own 'special ingredients': Egyptians, Native      Americans, Arabian Tribes, Gaulles, Germanic Tribes and the Vikings.
     This interpretation of a traditional Grut Bier is spiced with Lorbeer (bay leaves), Ingwer (ginger),                    Kummel (caraway [...]), Anis (anise [...]), Rosemarnin (rosemarie) & Enzian (gentian).  It is brewed with      water, wheat & barley malt.  "Polinated wild hops" and fermented using top fermenting yeast."

So of course I had to try it.  I tried it for myself, so that I would know, and for the world, so that you would know too.  One of us really got the short end of the stick on this deal.

So, here we have the 13th Century Grut Bier, sold in a 1 pint bottle, 4.6% ABV, from the good Dr. Fritz Briem in Munich.  A light straw colored ale, with a rapidly fading head.

As is my way, glass number 1 is a just-drink-it-and-see glass.  I had no idea what to expect from this one.  The label offers no real clues aside from the flavoring ingredients.  As reading a bread recipe won't give most people an idea about the taste, so too was the list quoted above unhelpful for divining the flavor I was about to experience.  However, if the person in charge of copy for the label had just written the following in big bold letters, I think I would have gotten the general idea: "IT TASTES LIKE HATE-FUCKING A GRAPEFRUIT".  I'm sure there is a reason some recipes are forgotten or lost.  I don't think the world was worse off for moving on from this concoction.  In all fairness, by the bottom of the glass, I was feeling much less assaulted and ready to give it a real think.

Glass 2, and what I found there.  The citrus is first and foremost.  That poor grapefruit I spoke of earlier will darken my soul forever.  But, I really want to see if I can weed out that list of ingredients.  Bay leaves: a hint, but not of the dried leaves so much as the subtle change the leaves produce in a soup, a slightly tangy, richness.  Ginger: the ginger parties with the citrus and makes itself known (not the life of the party but clearly brought a gift).  Caraway seeds: I have no idea what those taste like, pass.  Anise: nope, can't taste it.  Rosemarie & gentian: does anyone know what those are, much less what they taste like?  The big-boy flavor of this beer has to come from the wild hops.  I don't know why it had to be in quotes on the label, but there must be a reason aside from an warehouse sale on printer's marks. Maybe they meant to use air-quotes.

Grapefruit and some other stuff, that is what I taste.  But, mostly this beer is shit.  Don't drink it.  Don't seek it out.  If it finds you, run.  If it catches you, use the cyanide pill implanted in your molar.  Remember the tooth, but let's hope it doesn't come to that.  Until next time, be safe, keep your guard up, then don't drink this beer.

Original Schlenkerla Smokebeer

Mouthful.  In the quaint parlance of the 90's, this beer is a mouthful "to the max".  Word up, people.

Mouthful #1, the name: Aecht Schlenkerla Urbock, or Aecht Schlenferla Rauchbier <ges. gesch> Urbock, or Original Schlenkerla Smokebeer.  I have no idea what this beer is called.  It really could be any of several German things written on the label, or all of them. I don't speak German, but I do drink it.  When I drink this, it is still a mouthful.

As I stated, this beer is likely called Original Schlenkerla Smokebeer (google tranlsate has no friggin idea what any of it means, except that "Rauchbier" means "smokebeer"), comes in a 1 pint bottle, 6.5%ABV, brewed and bottled in Bamberg, Germany.  It is a dark, semi-opaque amber, and has just a little lingering foam after a minute.

The label is the kind of horrible shit you would expect to see on a sign at an Oktoberfest booth (in Texas).  In an earlier blog I confessed my love of old parchment and what not, but here we see a prime example of not to do parchment and scroll.  With its overly manuscript-y type and half-assed curled page, I feel like the designer barely contained their contempt for the eventual viewer.  Most of the words on the front label dissolve into a puddle of unidentifiable letters and lines, shoe-horned onto a bad stage-prop.  I cannot disparage this label enough.  As a beer-drinker, I'm offended.  As a designer, I'm outraged.  There is even a strange "Yay, Drunkie" wax seal that seems to say, "The Choice of Hobo Tramps Everywhere".  And, really, what the hell is the name of this beer?

There ends the problems I have with this beer,and brings me to Mouthful #2.  Sweet Jesus, this beer is good.  Finger-lickin' good.  Smokey, dark, malty, nutty, dense,... Leave it to the Germans: this beer is the real deal.  In addition to the usual photo of the bottle and pour, I have included a second photo.  Scroll down and see my dog Tofu.  She is necessary to this review, because this is the kind of beer you have to drink with your dog.  If you have a dog, you probably know what I mean.  If you don't have a dog, go buy this beer, take a sip, then go rent a dog, and try the beer again.  You'll understand.  This beer is so rich of an experience, you need to have a quite drink, just you and your dog, to fully appreciate all it has to offer.  Don't drink this at a bar, with friends, or in a well-lit room.  Wait for sunset, pour your glass, get your dog, settle in on your front step, and take a drink while scratching your dog's ear.  I promise, you will sip the very essence of a beautiful moment.  My dog looks shy in the picture because she is naked, not because the beer isn't wonderful.

Second glass is poured.  I want to evaluate the flavors as they happen, but I don't know that when I take that sip, I will be able to care.  I like drinking this beer.  I don't want to over-think it, just live it.  Stream of consciousness it is!  smoke, cold-fizz, camp fires, woods, pecans, sleeping in a hammock, steak, bar-b-que.

That is it!  Liquid bar-b-que.  I realize that sounds disgusting.  Drink the beer anyway, and be connect with all things manly.  This beer could be a lumberjack.  If it was a different color, it would be plaid, on flannel.  Buy this beer, rent a dog, watch the sun set, reconnect with something necessary in all our lives.  Just don't look at the label.

Hollows & Fentimans Alcoholic Ginger Beer

Socrates famously said, "I drank what?!"  Boy, did he know what he was talking about.  This week, bravely, I tried something new, Hollows & Fentimans [no apostrophes] Alcoholic Ginger Beer.  I chose if for two reasons: first, it looked so lonely up there on the shelf next to all those other bottles, and secondly, it would be a first (#wordplay).  Before the mobs are formed, torches sharpened, and pitchforks set ablaze, let me assure you that I mean you no harm.  This was a gamble.  I live for adventure.

Hollows & Fentimans Alcoholic Ginger Beer. 1 pint bottle. 4%ABV. A product of the UK.  Golden, fizzy, probably soda, definitely not beer.

I let the cat out of the bag a little early there, but it needed to be addressed.  This might be a naturally carbonated wine, but the lack of any kind of a cereal grain means that this is NOT beer.  The back label has a clue:
     "Hollows & Fentimans Alcoholic Ginger Beer is made using a time-honoured [limey-word for "honored"]       recipe from just five ingredients: Ginger Root, Water, Sugar, Pear Juice & Yeast."
To me, that is wine, and I'm sure there are many reasonable arguments to be made for the opposite view as well. However, I doubt those arguments would be  made by anyone who had a sip.  I'll put it to bed like this, it might be beer, it might be wine, it might be neither or both of those, but it definitely is soda.  I like soda (it makes my liquor fizzy).

On the shelf, the bottle caught my eye for a number of reason worth mentioning.  The general style of the label seems to be made from ground up hipsters, it could be PBR's fat cousin. The use of what-the-fuck blue is both bold and sleep-inducing.  They seem so insistent on the blue, I wonder if it is a private joke that no one let me in on.  In fact, you can only know it is not an imitation if it's "signed in blue".  That "Beware of imitations" get two mentions on the labels.  Maybe I'm naive, but I have never seen any other alcoholic ginger beer, much less one that tries to pass itself off as Hollows & Fentimans.  Now I want to go the booze shop and see an identical bottle with the signature in beige, or lime green, just so I will know it's bullshit.

A lot of what is going on with this label seems like an inside joke.  Take a look down below, they have some crazy shit on there.  On the front, the label screams in all caps, "BOTANICALLY BREWED WITH THE FINEST NATURAL GINGER ROOT!"  I would assume the all caps was just a text style choice, but, then the exclamation point.  This label just yelled at me like a crazy person.  Throw in the other important information points like being gluten-free, botanically brewed since 1905, was "established in a perfect factory in the north of England, and you will likely miss the most important bit.  Whatever you do, in this life or this drink, do not totally miss the tiny text at the bottom telling you to "upend before pouring for full enjoyment."  I stood on my head for an hour, worth it.  Actually, that bit is so inconspicuous I didn't even notice it was there until glass number 2, the tasting glass.

Ginger, lots of ginger (although, maybe not enough) are what this booze brings to the table.  Also, some pear, and sugar... basically all the crap on the ingredients list.  It's there, all very tastable-n-stuff.  In many ways this a very very slightly boozed up olde-tymey ginger-ale.  It's still just soda.  Tasty soda, but soda (with a wacky label).  That's it.

I write a whole mess of lines about the label, and a few scraggly words about how it tastes.  Take it as you will.  I stand by my review.  If the mood takes you, give it a try.  It's pretty OK, but don't rush out.  This kind of hooch is reserved for the spur-of-the-moment purchase only.

Viven Smoked Porter

Belgium, it would be great country, if only it weren't in Belgium.  I dedicate this weeks blog to that fantastic film, In Bruges.  This beer is not from Bruges, though (which is sad, because it means fewer movie references), this beer is from a place so small, you can't even read the name on the label.  No kidding, it may be late and the lights low, but even in better light, good luck passing that eye exam.  The front of the label has no such issues.  Meet Viven Smoked Porter, a product of Belgium.

Ask yourself, "What is Belgium famous for?"  Chocolates and child abuse, mostly.  Did you know they also make beer?  They make many wacky beers, with crazy wild yeasts and often thumb their noses at German purity laws (perhaps a low-carb strawberry beer called She-Wolf?).  They also make the full range of more traditional ales; doing up my malty dark favorites proper.  Here we have the art of Flemish brewing, from a brewery dating back to the dark ages of 1999, producing one of those fun-if-you-can-find-them smoked ales.  I am glad Belgians learned to make beer, because they only invented the chocolates to the to the kids.

Viven Smoked Porter, 11.2oz bottle, 7%ABV.  Opaque deep brown, a small head that dissipates quickly.  Label best appreciated by a discerning drunk, mid-stumble.

The label grabbed my attention right away.  Huge text, shouting out, "Hey Drunkie! Over here! I am definitely a smoked porter!"  So forceful, yet helpful.  The faux-aged look is fun.  I don't care what anyone thinks, give me a stock parchment from Istockphoto, some old-timey fonts, and a crest: I'm good to go.  The front label has may enjoyable things to look at and read while you sit at your favorite bar. I love that.  I don't know what the hell is going on behind the shield on the crest.  If you find out, please tell me.  The back label makes me regret what I just said about the parchment, fonts and stuff.  That rear label is made only of hate and contempt for the honest drunk.  I can't read print that small, and I'm not going to try just so this label thinks it got one over on me.  Screw that back label; it is stupid and I hate it's stupid face.  Lets move on, the back label is a shit-hole anyway.

At glass one, I can safely say, this beer and I are going to be friends.  We have so much in common!  We both have depth and character, we both smell good, and neither one of us is Chinese (a very different movie reference).  It was a surprisingly short trip to the bottom of glass one.  Despite the respectable (but not excessive) ABV, this guy is smooth and easy.  As far as smoked porters go, Viven's is well put together.  It is not trying to be fancy, just good.  See?  Just like me.

The smell of this beer is gooooooood.  Don't you just love the smell of a smoked beer?  I mean, a porter smells good, but a smoked porter... Well, you just don't pass that up.  Unless you are driving or operating heavy machinery, one should always make time for the bouquet of a lovely smoked beer.  So, it smells good, how's it taste?  Have you ever sat in a large, cushion-y wing-back chair?  Ever had a nice glass of red wine and watched the rain fall outside the window?  I could say words like malty, rich, bitter chocolate, coffee, smoky, yeasty,  and the rest of the crew.  But you already know what a porter tastes like, and a smoked porter as well.  What is notable about this fellow, is how well it works.  Most beers will have a few notes that disagree with me.  Not this one.  Viven just makes it work.  Crappy back label: forgiven.

If you find this beer, buy it. Then hide from your friends and loved ones, wait until you are alone, fluff up your favorite comfy chair, and enjoy.  If you need a place to hide, there are a lot of alcoves in the Astridpark.  You use this word, "alcoves"?

Founders Breakfast Stout

This week, I tried something a little less fancy.  A good and swanky fella donated to my cause a cold six of Founders Oatmeal Stout.  It is a bit more off-the-shelf than what I have been trying, but no less unknown to me and no less fun to try.  So, I sit down and begin.

This guy was brewed for us by Founders Brewery (says so right on the label), they directly named it Breakfast Stout Double Chocolate Coffee Oatmeal Stout and gave it a beautiful 60 IBUs, 8.3%ABV.  The beer is dark, the head minimal, and the bottle has a creepy weird kid on the label.

Soooooo, that creepy kid on the label is totally eating a big bowl of beer with a spoon.  I have no idea what to make of that.  I'm kind of scared, really.  Why do I have to share my beer with some damn kid?  I don't like that kid, his stupid napkin, or his damn spoon.  Screw that budding booze-hound, let's drink some beer.

I liked this beer, at first.  It has oodles of flavor molecules and feels good to drink.  Here, I'll break with established tradition and do the big taste right up front.  There is a train I have to get in front of, and if I wait for the second glass, it will have passed.  Tipping back the glass, you smell the choco malts and the metallic tinge, then your tongue agrees.  Choco malt, yeast, metal, mild bitterness, alcohol, all the things expected from a stout, plus the chewy mouth-feel of an oatmeal stout.  All of that is fine, actually better than fine.  Not outstanding, but certainly worth pouring into a glass.  A glass, just one.  From a 12oz bottle, drink the first 6, then make bread or cheese dip or something with the rest.  What begins as an enjoyable stout, gets muddy, difficult, overly acidic, and just no damn fun.  Towards the end, you feel like you are just trying to prove something to yourself.

Glass two, I lost all my steam.  I don't even want it anymore.  I think the weird kid on the label is there to finish all the bottles when people stop wanting them.  Power to him, I say.  He's doing a great service to the community.  Buuuuuuut, then again, the first glass is pretty tasty.  I don't want to libel up a good beer, so how about a compromise?  Buy a bottle, obtain a drinking buddy, find two glasses, split to bottle, and have a nice beer.  Seriously.

Moa Imperial Stout

Moa Imperial Stout has an impressive bottle.  Damn thing has a champaigne cork for some reason, and black on dark brown labelling with bright yellow accents.  Like Dexter to a killer, once I saw this guy, I had to have him.  The look caught my eye, and the details sealed the deal.  This is from a New Zealand brewery, Moa Brewing Co., and is aged in pinot noir barrels.  It is bottle fermented and conditioned, so I assume the barrel aging happens first.  Or maybe they are just stuffing the full bottles into barrels.  Oh, also the bottle has an embossed emu on the neck.  Drink the bird!!

So, let's start with the dirty details: Moa Imperial Stout, from the Moa Brewing Company, LTD., Marlborough, New Zealand. 12oz, 10.2 ABV, very dark brown, not much head to speak of (which makes the champaine cork pretty pointless).

The label brags about a few Asian and Australian medals, and it certainly looks like a winner.  Looks were clearly a priority with this bottle.  New Zealand must have some well lit drinking holes, though, because with anything less than bright lights, this beer looks like it is called "Imperial Stout" and won some awards.  A different aproach, but different can be good.

I pull the cork, I pour a glass, and I take a sip.  The expectations for an imperial stout are for something thick, rich, malty, boozy, and a little metallic at the end.  Moa checks all those boxes right off the bat, in all the best ways.  There is another layer, of course.  The label says it right up front, pinot noir barrels.  It is there, in the beer, waiting patiently for me.  I'm going to change my relationship status on facebook to "complicated".  So, I pour a second glass and put on my tasting face.  It smells a bit like pennies in soy sauce, just a bit, with vapors of alcohol, yeast, and carbonation.  The first taste is thickness, then a wave of acidity, malt, yeast, sweet and bitter all in a row, finally lingering on the soft palate and dissipating on the back of the tongue.  Oz Clarke says to taste hops in beer on the burp, but he posesses senses vastly beyond mine (I wonder what I have been missing out on).  When I give this a burp taste, I just remember lunch.  A stout rarely talks about it's hops much anyway.  Maybe silence is Golden (get it?).  I tried a sip from a bottle of pinot noir I haven't yet finished, and, sadly, I don't taste it.  I get the wine barrel tones, more subtle and sweet than whiskey barrels or the like.  All the same, I would never be able to Sherlock my way backwards from a sip to the pinot.  I enjoy this beer more as an imperial stout than as a wine barrel aged imperial stout.

Moa makes a pretty fine stout, from the first look to the last sip, a real pleasure.  If you come across a bottle, drink it.  It is familiar and a bit surprising, but mostly it is tasty.  I don't know about beer culture in New Zealand (tiny hobbit pubs, I hope), but, if this is any indication, NZ must be a great place to get sloshed.  

Texas Honey Ale

In my search for new and exciting booze for my face, I have decided to spend a few ounces each week trying something new.  To be fair to anyone reading this, I don't have a refined palette, a deep well of beer knowledge, or any training to bolster my opinions.  What I do have is a love of hooch, a few meager extra bucks, and a small bit of home brewing experience.  Mostly, though, I like beer, and this is a great reason to try new things.

This week I am trying Texas Honey Ale.  An offering of the Guadalupe Brewing Co., New Braunfels, Texas. 7.32 Alc/Vol, 22oz bottle, honey amber in color, minimal foam to the head. 

From the bottle, there are a few things of note: part of the proceeds go to  Texas A&M's honey bee research, and they would very much like you to know this beer was "hand bottled".  I don't know if I give a shit about any of that, but it makes good bottle reading.  Also the label is more fun than a lot of labels out there. As a designer, I'd say it's "OK", shows talent in the handling of the images, and the details are rich and fun to explore.  All the same it feels pretty literal to the beer. And that's OK.

Now for the important part, how's it taste?  My first glass, the just-drink-it glass, was a good but not overly good beer. It was a bit sweet (which makes sense for a honey ale), smooth, and rich.  Not hoppy at all, a reasonable malt, but not chocolaty. "Honey ale" pretty well sums it up.  My second glass, the sniff-it-swirl-it glass, was better. Of course I had a beer already by then.  This brew is thick (not stout thick, but it sure ain't thin), has some chew to it, and hangs around for a while after you knock it back. First the smell, like honey.  I say "like" honey because when you stick your nose in  jar of honey, it smells like honey, but when you smell this, it smells like honey.  It tastes sweet at first, then big yeast and malt, it fades a bit and finally sublimes to honey.  "Sublimes" is the best verb I have used all week, you should give it a twirl too.

This is a good beer, not too complex, not extravagent, but it tastes nice and makes me smile.  For the money, it's a good value (under $7 for a 22oz bottle), and what the hell, it's named "Texas Honey Ale" and they give money to a school. Go for it.