Milkshake, anyone?

Dogfish Head Craft Brewery in Milton, DE

I think it’s telling that our 400th post here at Barbeerians is a review of a Dogfish beer. Even before my days of getting into Dogfish beer at Michigan, the mystique surrounding the Delaware craft brewery was at atmospheric levels. It was unobtainable in Montana, and their 120 Minute IPA was one of the costliest beers on the menu at our favorite bar in Ann Arbor. So when I first started diving into craft beers, Dogfish rose to the top quickly. I still like seeking out all of their selections. Even if a raspberry or blueberry puree beer doesn’t sound like the best thing, there’s a damn good chance the beer will be drinkable and unlike anything else you’ll ever try. But with this innovation comes some luck. Even when I do try a funky Dogfish beer, I’m afraid the ~$15 I’ve spent could deliver something like a glorified grape juice. So sometimes, it’s nice to find a solid and down-to-earth beer from Dogfish that isn’t made from insect wings or golden pixie dust gathered from a lunar module, which is partly why I’m such an enormous fan of the Dogfish Head Immort Ale, a beer packed with some rather stock flavors that come together to form a tasty crescendo of everyday beer elements.

The Immort pours a really crisp looking dark golden red color and has deep flavors popping off the top of the beer in form of roasted, smoky malt and almost some lighter touches of chipotle mixed with vanilla. The head on the beer hung around for generations, and the carbonation was higher on this one than I expected. The taste, though, was the strong point (thankfully) with a sweet blast from the vanilla and maple coming through right away. The vanilla taste in the beer really trumped almost everything else and combined quite well with the high viscosity to create a smooth and sweet treat. If you made a rich milkshake with vanilla, lots of bourbon, some maple sweetness and some malt and blended the bad boy for a few years, you might have a pretty good analogue for the Immort Ale.

Granted, this might not be what most people are looking for in a high gravity beer from Dogfish Head, but the creaminess and the smoothness combined with the vanilla really created a beer that was unique and still didn’t taste like a Smirnoff Vanilla Milkshake Icy Fun Time Beverage drink that some sweeter beers can start to emulate. This is certainly a beer worth seeking out even if you don’t like softer, sweeter beers–it still packs a boozy punch with enough elements to please a range of beer fans.

The Great American Beer Festival was held this past weekend in Denver, CO, and what a weekend it was. We’re still recovering from all the fun we had this weekend…none of the fun ingesting hundreds of microbrews in Denver, though. We had a much classier weekend filled with college football, Pabst, and enormous pieces of pizza. Jealous?

Regardless, the GABF has released their list of winners in the 80 different beer categories, along with best brewers and breweries in the country. The winners–as expected–in the brewery of the year awards were Blue Moon, Utah Brewers Cooperative, and Mad River Brewing Company! And if you haven’t heard of all of those breweries, check out the list and you’ll find a massive collection of some of your favorite breweries raking in award after award. Or not. Seriously, where did all these breweries come from? Pizza Port? Devil’s Backbone? Yazoo Brewing? Am I alone here not knowing 50% of the winners?

I think the one thing this shows is how strong the craft beer movement is in the United States. Just look at the over 140 entries in the American IPA category, and look at the full list of winners. It’s extraordinary.

So cheers to all the winners. You’ve already made my week either much more cheerful knowing that I have at least 200 more breweries I need to sample beer from.

Check out the full list here or skip on over to the full .PDF version here.

I hope I'm not rushing into things too quickly here. (Photo via MK Heisler)

Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales in Dexter, MI

A new love is brewing. And I’m afraid it’s going to tear a friendship apart.

Gary waxed poetic not long ago about his fascination with the sour ale giants in Dexter, MI, Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales. I’d always been fascinated with their beers, but had only a brief time to sample their selections when I was still living in Michigan. The brewery was just starting to explode as I left the state, and my mind had still not been made up about these funky and sour beers that certainly didn’t taste like regular amber ales or stouts. A trip back to Ann Arbor for New Year’s tossed me into their new brewhouse downtown where I got my hands on a few of these other hard-to-come-by ales, but the jury was still out.

But here JP and I are again, finding ourselves in the same city, seeing each other at the same bars, and occasionally running into each other at our favorite stores. We chat a little bit, flirt, and decide to go out for drinks. I try to tell Gary, but I know it will hurt him right now since he’s on a brief hiatus in Arkansas, so I keep it short. I tell him we’re just friends. That’s all.

But, Gary, this is bad news, but I’m in love with Oro de Calabaza, and I’m afraid others might be, too.

Ron Jeffries, owner of Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales.

It’s nice to find beer here that is such a different offering than what I’ve ever tried before. I’ve tried to branch out from my standards, and Jolly Pumpkin is really holding my hand through a lot of this new journey. And the Oro is quite a fucking tour guide.

Pouring a luscious and ultra-carbonated golden amber, the Oro immediately erupted with a strong and flavorful scent of citrus fruits like lemon and sprinklings of orange. The sour funk wasn’t as pronounced as expected, and it actually helped to cut the overall intensity that I thought the fruit would bring. There really is no time to waste on this one, so I took a sip and hoped to be astounded. What I got was pure love. This might be one of the most refreshing and drinkable ales I’ve ever enjoyed. Splashes of lemon zest mingled perfectly with a full and soft mouthfeel that meshed in to a perfect cover of sour touches at the end. Again, I was expecting a lot more sour hints, but this one was quite somber. Further sips only bring out further flavors with touches of pineapple touching hints of malt again splash slowly and easily into a nice farmhouse feeling. For 8%, you’d think more alcohol would peak through underneath the sour notes, but it was nowhere to be found. Which could be a true recipe for disaster if I ever found this on tap somewhere in D.C.

So, yes, a love affair is blossoming. I hate telling people about how great Jolly Pumpkin is in general, fearing that others will go after such an attractive specimen and that I won’t be able to see her often, if at all. Even so, maybe it’s better that way. I don’t want to ruin such a good thing by rushing into it so quickly.

Stay out of my beer. Thanks.

The Atlantic’s food section has a good look at one of the more bizarre beer styles that I can really think of: oyster stouts. A few months ago, I gave my thoughts on the subject where I pretty much panned the style since I hate oysters. Have my thoughts changed? No. Am I still interested in trying an oyster stout? Well, maybe. Clay Risen tried three that are on the market (Harpoon’s Island Creek, Flying Fish’s Exit 1, and Porterhouse Brewing Co.’s Oyster Stout), and came back with some mixed results.

Oyster stouts are exactly what they sound like: brewers shuck in five or six bivalves per barrel during the brewing process. By the time the beer is done, the oysters have completely dissolved, leaving behind just the faintest hint of salinity. Beware, though: Some brewers, like Marston’s, don’t actually use oysters in their oyster stouts; the name is simply to suggest an appropriate accompaniment. Still others, like Massachusetts’s Cape Ann Brewing, will use shells, but not the oysters themselves, to balance the mineral content of their water.

[...]

And about that beer: While the Harpoon and Porterhouse are both dry, even astringent, Irish stouts, the Flying Fish is a creamy British export stout, with about twice the alcohol content of the other two. Its milk chocolate and roasted flavors are much better complements to the subtle saltiness of the oysters than the bitter chocolate and tobacco flavors I got from the Porterhouse and Harpoon. I found the Porterhouse thin and excessively briny, while the Harpoon was bland with a finish of old coffee grounds. Neither was particularly bad, but neither was anything I’ll look for again.

Not exactly a rave review of oyster stouts, but it’s still a developing genre. Has anyone out there tried any of the offerings, and what do you think? Anyone thinking of dabbling in the art of brewing an oyster stout on their own? How about Crab Leg Kolsch, or Lobster Lager? Not saying I’ll drink them, but go for it.

The Atlantic — Brine in Your Brew: Sampling Oyster Stouts

For this week’s Beer Video of the Week, we take a brief look back at a post Miles did a few weeks back about BrewDog’s End of History beer. It’s a 50% ABV beer that is sold in a dead squirrel. Yes, dead squirrels and beer: the combination of the year. Check out the video below and see why BrewDog still makes the best beer-related videos on the Internets. (Slightly NSFW, so be careful, late Friday workers.)

Hope everyone out in Montana has a great time at the Montana Brewers Festival, and that everyone else in D.C. finds some great beer this weekend. As for me, I will be hoping Michigan can pull off a great win versus Notre Dame this weekend. Dogfish Head Bitches Brew goes well with the sound of Irish people crying, right? Have a good weekend, everyone. Cheers.

I'm sorry, but I think we're just friends now. I might be open to a relationship in a few months. Will that work?

Founders Brewing Company in Grand Rapids, MI

How important is aging? I’m not asking this in an NBC special sort of way or in an attention-grabbing headline in the style of the Huffington Post or the Drudge Report. Rather, I’m asking this when it comes to beer.

I understand that brewers these days are making more and more brews that are meant to be preserved and held onto for as little as a few months and for as long as a few decades. I get this. The beer changes over time. Different flavors appear as fermentation continues. But with the proliferation of so many of these beers on the market, I’m having a hard time choosing which ones I want to open immediately like Christmas presents and which ones I need to put away in my tiny closet and attempt to not drink for the next few months. Should these beers that can be aged for quite some time actually be aged, or should they be drinkable right out of the bottle? Or should they be real firecrackers right on the day or bottling, only to become truly perfect gems after sitting in your beer cellar (*cough closet cough) for a number of years?

I only bring this up because of how much I actually enjoy the Founders Nemesis 2010 edition, a black IPA/barleywine hybrid. It’s a special beer that is released only once. Founders even notes that this can be a rather experimental beer. And I’m quite OK with all of this. I only have to think how much better this beer could be if it sat around for a few years. Then what would we have?

Part of the reason I have trouble with hanging onto beer is not only the space issue, but the temperature issue. I know you’re supposed to keep them at cooler temps at all times, but I can’t say I have a big enough fridge or a dedicated beer fridge yet in my apartment to make this happen. I don’t even know if having them stored at 70 degrees makes that much of a difference, but I feel like if I keep a beer around for so long, I should keep it in ideal conditions.

The other reason I have trouble with holding onto beers is, well… most of the special bottles I pick up look awfully fucking delicious. Black IPA and barleywine? This is why I couldn’t hang onto Nemesis 2010 for more than a few days. The color on it was as magnificent as any of my other Founders lovers, a dark and very rich brown with a gorgeous chocolate-cream head just barely sitting on top of the snifter when it was swirled around. The smell was thick with molasses and a rather boozy, almost bourbon-like, scent. The beer looked quite syrupy, more so than expected, and the first taste confirmed that immediately. A heavy and thick curtain of really dry and earthy malt kicks in immediately with just the slightest background of a barleywine’s sweetness. The malt really hangs on the tongue for generations, and adds a bit of smokiness that mixes with a hop tickle near the absolute end. I really waited for the barleywine’s scene, but somewhere along the editing process, it hit the cutting room floor. I had a hard time finding any real sweetness or a blast of alcohol (especially considering the 12% ABV), and even the high IBU level left me a little disappointed. The warmer it got, the less sweet it became. Not exactly a knock-out punch.

What I’m trying to get at is this is a very good black IPA. The flavors here are thicker and richer than many others I’ve had. But I’m missing the barleywine crunch. I would assume that if this bad boy hung out for quite a few more months or years, this would develop into a deep and succulent beer with more layers than an onion. As is, drink it for the great black IPA qualities, but save it for the feast of flavors that will surely come later.

Go Away. Please, just go away.

New Holland Brewing Company in Holland, MI

You’re walking down Columbia. It’s not too late yet. We’re just into September. You remember that Septembers signal the beginnings of college football and the smell of drying leaves against a backdrop of cool nights where you can have your car window down almost all the way on your drive home. But it can get chilly late, late at night, at times when you’re out. But September in the East isn’t like that. September is still swampy–thick and sticky, like swimming in a pool of creamed corn that’s been on the oven for way too long. You’re walking, though, anyway, and you notice a man coming towards you. You don’t know him, so you ignore him, and he passes by you on the street. It’s still too hot, and the sun is just barely going to bed on the horizon, but you can’t see it. You only see this man, now right behind you, asking you, “Have you ever been to Mexico?” You say you haven’t been. From there, things go downhill. He invites you to walk with him, and he hands you an El Mole Ocho beer from New Holland Brewing.

This man starts talking incessantly about Mexican food and the flavors that come to mind just from the imagination running its course. He tells you the El Mole Ocho is a beer dedicated to the mole flavors of the South, a unique, dark blend of chilis with a distinctive earthy and smoky flavor. You try the beer, hoping to be transported to a foreign land and swept away by smells and culture that comes from a simple sauce that packs such a punch. The beer, though, disappoints. You’re initially excited. You see a dark burgundy-amber beer that smells of sweet coffee and other complex chili flavors. The initial taste puts your mouth in a blender, with flavors of coffee and sweet malt tickling around everywhere. You’re still excited. But then the ugly side comes out. This man gets angry. You sense a dull and earthy funk now, and you worry about where you are. The man is very angry now and yelling. The beer gets worse. He keeps getting dirtier, just like the beer. You can’t stand either of them, now, and you quickly finish the beer before abruptly leaving, never wanting to return to either again.

You walk home and it’s dark now, with the orange glow of street lamps barely lighting the side streets. You flavor of the beer is still in your mouth, as is the image of the ugly, torturous man. You want to go to Mexico. You want to sample real mole. But you know you will not do either of those soon. And you certainly won’t see the man or the beer again anytime soon. Ever.

This chart is for everyone who has trouble with their styles of beer (myself included). It is a pretty interesting chart that gives a lot of the relationships between different beers and well, it might not be 100% accurate, but at the very least it is a great way to waste a few minutes of this lovely Labor Day!

Pop Chart Lab

Move over cans and bottles, the future of beer is here. Well, maybe not the future, but a damn cool looking beer sampling unit: the BeerVault. There seems to be some high-tech science behind the newest creation from Australian design firm Jones Chijoff.

The BeerVault fits the high-end beer bottles into UV-filtering clear acrylic canisters, which are backlit and suspended above the bar. Each beer is kept under the same pressure as it was while in the bottle, thus preserving its taste, while also keeping it chilled and ready-to-serve via a clear volume of liquid glycol that surrounds it and circulates through a chiller.

It also makes ordering beers easier. One of the ideas behind the whole bar is that people will be able to order their beers based on the color!

BornRich — Australian firm designs BeerVault for high-end beers

Someone get Sam Calagione on this case immediately. It looks like some divers searching for buried treasure..er…champagne off the coast of Sweden in the Baltic Sea have unearthed what could be the world’s oldest drinkable beer, dating to somewhere around the early 1800s. That sounds great, but too bad the beer is clearly bad by now and undrinkable. What’s that? Someone tried it?

Bjorn Haggblom, a spokesman for the researchers, says they found a handful of beer bottles this week while salvaging champagne discovered near the Aland Islands in July.

He said researchers who tried drops of the dark, foamy liquid liked the taste of it.

Swedish beer expert Goran Winbergh questioned whether it would still be drinkable because beer is perishable.

Um, so who’s waiting for the “Divers Die After Trying Beer from Ancient Shipwreck” headline that will show up in the newspapers in a few more hours? This is why we need Sam. Get him over there; have him test it; and have him replicate it. We can even go ahead and just call it something badass like Pirate’s Blood. There, we already have a name. You have your assignment, Sam.

The Associated Press — Recovering bubbly in Baltic Sea, divers find beer