A few months back here at onbeer.org, during some discussion around what defines craft (found here and here), there was some debate about whether the use of adjuncts is an important aspect of differentiating brewers. Some felt that adjuncts – the addition of non-malt to a beer pre-fermentation – divided craft brewers and non-craft. In this regard, I believe they were referring to the ubiquitous use of corn and rice in macro-lagers to lighten body and lower costs. Others pointed out that many traditional styles call for the use of adjuncts, meaning their use is not illegitimate.
Well, I decided to ponder that issue more thoroughly for my January Beer 101 column over at SherbrookeLiquor.com. Most of the piece is devoted to educating about what adjuncts are and, importantly, how the various kinds of adjuncts differ. After all, any non-malt addition is an adjunct, including pumpkin, sugar, ginger or what-have-you.
The crux of the column, however, is that by demarcating the types of adjunct, what reveals itself is that the difference between craft and non-craft is the INTENT behind the use of the adjunct. Is it a cost-saving, palate-lightening practice? In other words, is it trying to take away from the beer? Or is it an exercise in adding a character to a beer (which, admittedly can include a lighter body)? How a brewer uses the adjunct may be the defining feature.
I realize that this doesn’t resolve the debate, because it can be legitimately argued that North American pale lagers are now a bona fide style and that many craft brewers make good examples of that kind of beer. True enough. However,I think we would be naive if we thought that the big boys use adjuncts because they feel it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to their product. It is about economics as much as it is quality. And, there, in my opinion lays the difference.
So after a disturbingly warm season to date, Alberta was smacked with full frontal winter last week. Some complain, but I see it as just part of the price of living in the ungodly north. Bundle up and you are fine. My dogs didn’t even skip their daily walk (albeit we shortened it). I usually just go with the flow.
But a comment from an acquaintance last week, during the depths of the freeze, spawned my CBC column topic last Friday. They opined that beer is just not the beverage for -30 degrees. I heartily disagreed but then decided I should remind Edmonton CBC listeners that there is a beer for all seasons. Which is exactly what I did (you can listen here).
The approach was simple. Describe the characteristics in beer that actually lend themselves to cold weather and then offer a few suggestions. Even though there were a few options, I decided to sample Alley Kat’s Old Deuteronomy on air, as it is a nice example of a warming barley wine that isn’t too heavy or hoppy. The guest host didn’t quite take to it, unfortunately.
Admittedly it is not one of my best columns. In hindsight I think I should have approached the topic a bit differently. Plus the beer I selected may have been too challenging. Something a bit more inviting for an untrained palate would have been better – like Yukon Lead Dog. Alas, they can’t all be gems.
Still, I think I make a useful point. A warming barley wine, a Belgian tripel or a hearty stout can be just as effective as a snifter of brandy, a wee dram of scotch or other “warming” beverages. Too often beer gets pigeon-holed as a summer time, party drink, in part because 95% of beer sold in North America is only good for that (if anything at all). So an effort, even a flawed one like mine, to expand drinkers’ horizons can only be a good thing.
And next week I vow to do better with my CBC column.
After missing an issue due to a lack of space (January can be lean times for alt weeklies), Vue Weekly has finally run a piece this week that was originally slated for late December. Most of you know that Victoria’s Phillip’s Brewing entered the Alberta market in the fall, which is a nice thing. As pleased as I was to see some of the wonderfully hoppy beer this brewery produces, I was not expecting something called the Hopbox.
The Hopbox is Phillip’s mixed pack. Fair enough. Many craft brewers sell a mix six or twelve pack of their beer. I think it is a good idea, as it lowers the risk factor when trying something new. A consumer might balk at buying six (o twelve) of the same beer. What if they don’t like it? Even an experienced beer guy can get burned that way. Knowing there are only two or three of a handful of beer is a safer bet (and a nice way to do a “tour” of that brewery).
However, Hopbox is different. It is, to the best of my knowledge, the only mixed pack in North America that offers only India Pale Ales inside. Hopbox includes four different versions of Phillip’s IPAs. Now THAT is cool!! And worthy of a column (which you can now read here). After some background on Phillip’s – and they do have a fantastic back story (just think Spike Lee, maxed out credit cards and showering in the Y…) – I offer a brief review of each beer in the pack. Given space constraints the reviews are capsule-like, but it is enough to give you the picture.
For those of you too lazy to read the column, I will tell you that the four beer in the pack are their mainstay Hop Circle IPA, Skookum Cascadian Brown Ale (their Dark IPA), Grow Hop Cascade IPA (a single hop IPA), and Krypton Rye Pale Ale (really still an IPA), which was my personal favourite. It was a pleasure working my way through the four beer, even the ones that didn’t knock my socks off. Just knowing I had a mix pack of IPAs kept me rather giddy. It is like having a mixed pack of lambics (wouldn’t that be fun…).
Actually, I also profiled Phillip’s during my Regional Beer Personality series on CBC Radio. However it, and the remainder of those columns, have not yet been posted so I have been unable to share it with you. That piece does a better job of telling Phillip’s story and linking it to the broader B.C. beer scene. I won’t go into it now, but I do think Phillip’s nicely represents the personality of B.C. beer.
Maybe I can get that piece posted in the future. For now, use the Vue piece as an appetizer.
Quietly over Xmas, Calgary’s newest microbrewery, Village Brewery (which launched this past fall), launched its first beer, Village Blonde Ale. Now this week, I just learned that a second beer is heading out the brewery door. Blacksmith India Black Ale is, clearly, their take on the growing Cascadian/Dark India Pale Ale style.
I haven’t got any details on the beer at this time, nor have I had an opportunity to sample either, since they are, for the moment, available only at the brewery and a handful of accounts.
If anyone has had the beer yet, feel free to comment and let the rest of us know whether we should be making a special trip to Calgary just to sample it.
I know that half the world has already reviewed the Oxford Companion to Beer, the voluminous tome edited by Garrett Oliver supposedly about everything beer. It is organized more like an encyclopedia (alphabetic entries) than a coherent book. A review at such a late date may seem pathetic – but I have my reasons.
You see, I received my copy shortly after it came out, and shortly before my website got hacked. I had originally planned to write about it quite quickly, but by the time I wrestled control of my website back and re-built it, that horse had left the barn. The beer blog world was ablaze with reviews – both glowing and glowering. Plus the temperature had gotten a tad hot with accusations and defensiveness flying back and forth (not sure what I am talking about? Try going here, here and here for just the tiniest snippet of the vitriol that surounded it). In that environment, there was no way I was wading in.
So I bid my time. And what a genius decision that was. Because while I was biding I tried to use the book for what it is meant to be – a quick reference. When I needed to check a fact or confirm a tidbit, I pulled the Oxford off the shelf to see what it would say. I have only read the tiniest fraction of the entries, but I can be confident in saying it is well into three digits at this point. And so I feel like I can safely offer my opinion on the book.
My overall assessment is that a book like this can never win – even with me. At times it doesn’t have enough detail. At others it goes on too long. And then there are the little inaccuracies that can irritate. There are a million different ways to critique this book. But what I figured out is that it isn’t the book’s fault – it is mine. Sometimes I am looking for a detailed explanation of a chemical process and it falls short. Other times I just need a quick hit and find it gives me too much. In the areas I know well (such as the entry on Canada) I can nitpick the details and grumble at where it gets it wrong. Other times, when it is a new topic for me, the entry can fly far above my head.
You see what I mean? That isn’t a shortcoming of the book. It is the inconsistency of what I want from the book. Sometimes I want more, sometimes less. How are the contributors supposed to anticipate what I want? Well, of course they can’t. And that is the point.
The book does exactly what it is supposed to achieve. It offers a brief overview of thousands of beer-related topics. Yes, they are imperfect. But so is Wikipedia. And I don’t here of people trashing Wikipedia for its inaccuracy and uneven reliability. That is because everyone knows Wikipedia is uneven and at times inaccurate, and we adjust our expectations accordingly.
This will come as no surprise to any of you, but it is a real pet peeve of mine to see ads that over-hype a beer, or, worse, come up with complete pretend concepts just to sell beer (microcarbonation, anyone?). I have written about this frustration in the past. It may be less obvious to you that I am not anti-advertising in principle, I just oppose marketing that insults consumers’ intelligence. For example I am a huge fan of the Bud Light “Real Men of Genius” radio ads. They are clever, entertaining and barely mention the beer. No over the top adjectives. No buxom women bursting out of their tops. Just smart writing and a healthy respect for the consumer.
Of course, that is the exception. Most of the time we get ads like this Molson M ad (thanks to Chris B. for sending it to me). Not to pick on Molson M (because it is such an easy target, after all), because we see dozens of ads like this every year. The majestic drama of Keith’s; the pretend family history of Sleemans; the faux-Canadiana of Molson Canadian.
In turn, most craft brewing advertising is boring (here is just one example from an admirable Canadian craft brewer). This is understandable – small budgets, earnest companies whose main focus is good beer. But still, it can make you yawn when you see it.
But yesterday I found a couple of low-budget ads from a small Colorado brewery, Breckenridge Brewery. They call the series “Truth in Beervertising” and they are remarkably clever. The ads have been around the interweb for a number of months now, but I simply didn’t come across them until yesterday. I like them. The direct mockery of the big boy claims is fun, especially since the ads are so under-stated. There are four of them, each taking on a particular mis-claim of the corporate brewers. One reminds us that “cold is not a flavour”. Another promises a new patented “cold activation system”. Another mocks the triple-hopped claim. This one is likely my favourite:
I think it like it best because of the wonderful, sardonic, deadpan “genius” tagline from the brewer. It adds to the faux-earnestness of the whole thing. The cold activation system ad is a close second for me. In the interests of bandwidth, I won’t embed all four, but you can see them at this beer news website.They make not a single (real) promise about their own beer, but the tone of the ads exude quality and integrity, which likely sells more beer than if they promised that it was brewed with “all natural ingredients” or other such claim.
Apparently the ads only cost them $10,000 to produce and they received modest airplay.Proof that good advertising can be intelligent, honest and affordable at the same time. I hope to see more smart ads like this in the future.
For the past couple of months, my CBC columns have not been posted on their website. This is due mostly to RadioActive being a bit shorthanded. It is a bit of a shame, as the rest of my beer personality series got lost as a result. Alas! What can a humble beer columnist do?
However, my column from last Friday was up almost immediately (listen to it here). I decided to do a feature on the growing trend toward craft beer in Italy, using as my anchor the two breweries currently available in Alberta, Birrificio Del Ducato and Birrificio Bruton. The focus of the column isn’t so much on whether these beer are world class, but that a distinctly non-beer culture is creating space for craft beer. That is the interesting part of the story, in my opinion.
I have sampled a few beer from each of the two breweries, and can honestly say many of them are quite good. Not all, of course – but name a brewery where we adore every single one of the beer they make? Plus I did find some of the bottles were showing the effects of their long journey across the ocean. On air we sampled the Bruton Bianca, which I find a pleasant, fruity version of Wit (and I had an instinct the host would appreciate it – which makes for better listening). I could have also easily gone with the New Morning, which is a really nice saison, in my opinion.
Italy is not alone in being a non-beer country embracing good craft beer. Japan is another example. But Italy may be the first of the classic wine nations to turn toward beer. And I find that fascinating. And encouraging.
I did get an email response from the brewmaster at Bruton, but unfortunately too late to incorporate it fully into the column. My favourite quote from him speaks loudly about the potential advantages of brewing beer in a non-beer nation. “Being Italian, we don’t have any history, any tradition… and that’s not only a matter, ’cause we’ve been forced to invent, to re-intepet and that’s probably the reason of the healthy condition of the young Italian beer movement”.
It can see how it might be easier to experiment and chart your own course in Italy than in, say, Germany. At any rate, here is hoping we see more wine countries turning to beer.
Mainstay craft brewers in each of Alberta’s cities are releasing their new seasonals within days of one another, and both are Belgian-inspired. Belgian-style beer are rare in Alberta, as the province’s brewers seem to dabble in the complex style infrequently. There have been examples, like Alley Kat’s Big Bottle Tripel 18 months ago and Wild Rose has made non-Trappist Belgians like saison and witbier. But, unlike Manitoba and Saskatchewan, there has not been much dabbling in Belgian in Alberta.
So, imagine the coincidence of both Alley Kat and Wild Rose brewing up Trappist-inspired seasonals, and then releasing them within days of one another?
Wild Rose is up first today with the release of a Dubbel (with a cask-conditioned version being tapped tomorrow at their tap room – yum!). According to the specs they sent along, it looks right on the money – at least in terms of its ingredients and statistics. About 7.4%, it will accent malt and yeast spiciness. Plus it it the first release in the new (for them) 650 ml bottles. Until now their seasonals have come in 500 ml swing-tops. The switch to the more traditional bomber bottle is interesting.
And then next Friday, Alley Kat’s latest Big Bottle release is launched – and an ambitious one it is. It is a Belgian Quadrupel (basically a dubbel squared). This beer will be big, hopefully bold, and perfect for cellaring for a couple of years. I intend to pick up a few bottles to squirrel away (and thus compounding my growing beer cellar problem – over Xmas I broke my “one in, one out” rule and now am getting overrun again. Is there a reality show called “Beer Hoarders” I could go on??). The alcohol is 9.4%, which in my opinion is a little light for a Quad (more in the traditional Belgian Dark Strong style), but hopefully it still packs a flavour wallop.
Two Belgians in just over a week. What is this province coming to? What’s next, voting for an NDP government?
In addition to ensuring I have a few special holiday beer (like a barley wine or a nice tripel) for sipping at pristine moments, in the lead up to Xmas I also try to pick up some general drinking beer as well. Something more accessible that I can serve visitors if homebrew doesn’t suit and that I might be able to quaff when I don’t really feel like thinking about what I am sipping. As a general rule, I try to pick up something I haven’t tried before, just to give me some element of intrigue. Often it is a mixed pack from a craft brewery I respect, or a couple of six-packs of beer I hadn’t yet gotten around to trying.
This year on a whim I picked up a 12-pack of Stanley Park 1897 Amber. I knew going in that this wouldn’t be a world-beater, but I do have a commitment to trying every Canadian craft beer available, so it seemed a good time to do it. I would have preferred a six-pack, but what can you do?
When I got it home I pulled out a bottle and read that they call it a “Belgian-style Amber”. Uh-oh. Not a good sign. Not really a style, kids. They also claim to reach back to the origins of a Stanley Park Brewing formed in 1897. I suspect there likely was a Stanley Park Brewing in 1897, although I haven’t checked my history books to confirm (due to laziness). However, the bottle reads “originally established in the year 1897″. Yeah, not so much. My Minhas alarm went off as I read that tidbit.
The brewery also boasts to be Canada’s “first sustainable brewery”. This prompted a check of their website to see what they mean by that term, and, to be frank, their definition is loose enough to drive a tarsands front loader through. They have installed a small wind turbine to power the brewery, which is both admirable and impressive. But the rest of their claims seem to reduce to “we have great new technology”, which isn’t quite enough in my opinion to bill yourself the most sustainable brewery in the country. Besides, what Sierra Nevada, New Belgium and other American craft brewers are doing makes a mockery of Stanley Park’s boasts.
I also should note that Stanley Park is the creation of the Mark Anthony Group, owner of Mission Hill, many other wineries, and one of Canada’s largest liqour importers. Out of the same brewery in Delta they brew the discount Hell’s Gate brand (which, interestingly, makes no boasts about being sustainable). Some have argued that this disqualifies Stanley Park from calling itself “craft”. I disagree, as ownership alone should not define craft. However, the over-the-top marketing left me in a suspicious mood even before I opened the bottle.
And what of the beer? (I am well aware I have not even mentioned it yet). Well, it proves itself to be the pseudo-craft beer I feared it would be. It is a dark gold beer with a light Continue reading Stanley, What Was I Thinking?
It may only be January 2, but it is not too early to offer some thanksgiving for the bounty the prairies provide. I had an opportunity over the holiday season to crack open a bottle of Half Pints’ Demeter’s Harvest, their new Wheat Wine. Demeter, of course, was (is??) the Greek goddess of the harvest. She oversaw the fertility of the earth, with a special affinity for grain. An apt god to honour through the production of a rare form of strong ale.
Wheat wines are essentially barley wines, but made with 50% or so malted wheat, as is the case with Demeter’s Harvest. To add to its lusciousness (and local creed) Half Pints also added Manitoba wildflower honey to the beer. I have been eagerly awaiting this beer for weeks. I took my first available opportunity to sample it.
In my stemmed brandy-snifter glass it has a luminescent dark orange hue topped by a full white head which slowly drops into a light ring. The aroma is rich with honey, toffee, and dark fruit, accented by a citrus hop character and a touch of sharp graininess in the background.
The sip introduces with a strong honey and toffee sweetness upfront intermingling with some raisin and earthy accent. The beer sharpens in the middle, offering a graininess that reminds me of rye. The back end brings forth the hops – citrus and pine – but they never overtake the central role played by honey and malt sweetness. The linger is honey and citrus hops.
I find the alcohol very subtle, despite its 11% rating. If the body wasn’t so hefty I would mistake this for a much smaller beer. The quietness of the alcohol is one of its most endearing features. The wheat likely lightens the body a bit as well, contributing to its low key stature.
Demeter’s Harvest does not disappoint. The wheat character of the beer is less distinct than expected, coming across more like rye than my expectations of wheat. I wonder if this is due to the sheer size of the beer? If I were to nitpick I might suggest the honey is a bit too big, distracting from the cascade of other flavours found in this beer (I suspect this will mellow with aging). I am particularly pleased with the beer’s balance. Hops only play a supporting role to accent and counter the honey and malt. Thus the beer is not a hop bomb, like many American-style barley wines. And the alcohol is masterfully masked.
I think the dominant characteristic of this beer is subtlety, which is saying something for such a big beer. There are a lot of flavours and aromas to savour, but each is quiet and confident. The esters in the beer are like two polite people at a doorway, waving their hand and insisting the other proceed through first. The result is a balanced, understated beer.
As I take the final sip, I am left contemplating what a year or two in the cellar will do for this beer. It doesn’t need the aging to soften the alcohol, as it is already soft. The flavour blending that comes with time has also already been achieved. I guess the honey might drop back a bit and we will see some development of the dark fruit notes. Only time will tell, but clearly this has great cellar potential. Must put a couple more bottles on my shopping list.
A few months back here at onbeer.org, during some discussion around what defines craft (found here and here), there was some debate about whether the use of adjuncts is an important aspect of differentiating brewers. Some felt that adjuncts – the addition of non-malt to a beer pre-fermentation – divided craft brewers and non-craft. In this regard, I believe they were referring to the ubiquitous use of corn and rice in macro-lagers to lighten body and lower costs. Others pointed out that many traditional styles call for the use of adjuncts, meaning their use is not illegitimate.
