Butzen's Vittles and Brews

New Belgium Biere de Mars

2012-02-15T17:55:00.000-08:00

New Belgium Biere de Mars (Lips of Faith series): Fort Collins, CO

If you’re anything like me, you are 1) on the verge of seeking counseling for your addiction to the beguiling and inexplicably satisfying character of Brettanomyces in beer, and 2) not pulling in triple figures. This can make things difficult in the beer aisle. Beers with Brett (if this Brett talk has got you feeling like Alicia Silverstone right now, this post has a little more info) aren’t cheap, for a variety of reasons – extra equipment, ingredients and aging are often involved, but a lot of the price inflation is probably just due to demand. (If you’re anything like me, that demand is understandable.)

Enter Biere de Mars, beautifully priced at about $5.99. Now, this isn’t really a “Brett beer” – that is, the Brett character is not dominant and the beer is not really sour – but it’s got just a touch, just enough to push the biere from humdrum to transmundane (just showing off there). I imagine some aging would pull the Brett character out a bit more, but for now, it adds a friendly, funky, sweaty character to the beer’s aroma of peach jam on wheat toast. It’s a pretty light-hued beer, approximately the color of the prehistoric amber Jeff Goldblum extracted velociraptor DNA from in Jurassic Park. It's well-carbonated, with a delicate white head that dissipates rather quickly.

The taste is fruity and refreshing, with just enough funk to serve as methadone if not a full-on Brett fix. There’s a bit of mustiness intertwined with the jam-on-toast flavor – though in the mouth, it’s more of an orange marmalade than a peach jam. The paint on the bottle says it’s brewed with spices, but exactly what those are is hard to pick out (aside from the lemon verbena mentioned on the label) – there are hints of black pepper and cinnamon and maybe cardamom, but whatever is in there is very well integrated. The mouthfeel is pretty thin, but this is a springtime beer.

Most everything that comes in Newbie’s painted bottles is pretty damn special (and often named in French!), and I'll attest that Biere de Mars’ beautiful bottle is worthy of the beer inside. This beer is certainly unique, as many Lips of Faith beers are, and it’s a nice change if you're getting burnt out from drinking the same styles of beer over and over again. (I.e., if the number of different IPAs you’ve tried this month is higher than the number of times you’ve called your mom.) ... (Sorry, mom.)

It’s still a little too cold in Colorado for this beer to be in its wheelhouse ("Mars" does mean March), but once bike rides replace back bowls again around here, you'll want to have some of this in the fridge.

Dry Dock Wee Heavy

2012-01-04T22:27:00.000-08:00

Dry Dock Brewing Wee Heavy Scotch Ale: Aurora, CO

I've decided to treat Dry Dock Brewing Co. the way I would any other brewery, even though it kind of feels like discovering Creed playing at some dive bar before anyone knew about them and then seeing them blow up and not being able to afford tickets the next time they rock your town. What's that? Oh, no ... I didn't mean Creed. No no, I was thinking of some other band probably.

Can this beer take you higher?

Anyway, moving on... I stumbled upon Dry Dock when I first moved to Denver a few years ago by searching for "brewery" in my GPS and driving a little too far to Aurora. I drank some excellent beers and took home a growler (64 oz.) of the Apricot Blonde for $7, I think -- about what a bomber (22 oz.) of that same beer will cost you now. There was one other person there on that first visit, and now it's often hard to find a seat in the tasting room.

But instead of being bitter about their rising popularity (well-deserved, by the way, like Creed's. What? Uh, yeah ... I mean, of course I'm kidding about Creed) and the premium prices for their beer, I'm going to tell you that their winter seasonal, Wee Heavy, is really just an outstanding take on the style. This deep-brown brew with reddish highlights has a tiny, fleeting head (held back by the 9.5 percent ABV, probs) but huge, lasting aromas of dried stone fruit, spiced rum and Gonzo Grape Bubblicious.

The beer is super smooth and sweet with a pretty substantial mouthfeel (bordering on syrupy -- maple -- as the beer warms and the carbonation dissipates), and the taste is of rum-soaked plums, dried cherries, toasted bread and burnt sugar. (Bread + fruit soaked in rum = fruitcake, I guess. What did you say? Like Scott Stapp? Wait a second!) It has a faint touch of peaty smoke in the aroma and flavor, but said smokiness is pretty restrained for a Scotch ale. Speaking of Scotch, this one's got a bit of a nice whisky aftertaste, which is obviously a good thing. Wee Heavy was great before, during and after my dinner of roasted chicken with a portobello-champagne-cream sauce and cornbread stuffing, and it would pair equally well with other rich dishes that have earthy and caramelized flavors.

Regardless of how inexpensive those growler fills used to be, Dry Dock's Wee Heavy is still a damn good beer for the price. It makes me want to unbutton my shirt and sing "With Arms Wide Open" at the top of my lungs, and you know, darn it, that's just who I am.

Stone Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale

2011-12-02T21:55:00.001-08:00

Stone Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale: Escondido, CA

Sublimity has been a subject of serious philosophical interest since ancient times, with the aesthetic-and-literary treatise On the Sublime appearing around the first century AD. In this text, the (unknown) author lays out the concept of sublimity as a greatness surpassing calculation, leading humans "not to persuasion, but to ecstasy" and imparting "deep emotion mixed in pleasure and exaltation."

So, yeah -- Stone has really taken its marketing "arrogance" to the next level with Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale, one of the first commercially available black IPAs ... or Cascadian dark ales, or American black ales, or whatever the hell you want to call them. (Stone co-founder Greg Koch himself makes an extensive argument for "black IPA" here.) Whatever name you land on, these are dark, roasty, rich beers that are also extremely hoppy. (The idea itself is sublime to humans like me.)

As self-righteous as Tim Tebow, but more likable.

Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale is indeed black, with a big, bubbly, light-brown head that settles in for the ride. The smell is smoky and earthy, with fresh, green plant aromas meeting campfire smells -- it's like the smell of nature living and nature dying in one wonderful pour. It's a very visceral and slightly disconcerting aroma, and one you'll want to spend some time with. You get a big whiff of hops right away, with pine and grapefruit (probably from the Simcoe hops) and oranges (probably from the Amarillo) and mint (beats me) showing up, but it's clear there's something dark and different in this beer, as well. It's exciting.

The taste is smoother than the inner thighs of a well-traveled cowboy. The hops show up to play, but they're kept in check by the rich chocolate and espresso flavors from the malt. This is a big beer, at 8.7 ABV and 90 IBUs (most American IPAs are 40 to 70 IBUs), but if I didn't know that, I could drink a lot of this, quickly, before it caught up to me. (I may or may not have done that anyway.)

The hops actually seem kind of restrained in the taste, which doesn't sound like Stone, but as I said, this is a super hoppy beer (evidenced by a faint numbness in the mouth after a few big swallows) -- it's just got a bunch of roasted malt character, too, to keep the hops from freaking you out. The malt and hops hook up again in the finish with quenching pine and charcoal notes.

Stone sets expectations pretty high with the name and bottle-speak on this one, but it's undoubtedly one of the best black IPAs I've had. According to On the Sublime, a beer bearing this label should be "above the ordinary" and represent an "elevation of style" -- both of which I'd say hit the nail on the head.

Kona Pipeline Porter

2011-11-06T19:48:00.000-08:00

Kona Brewing Company Pipeline Porter: Kona, HI

Kona Brewing Co.’s Pipeline Porter, brewed with island-grown, fresh-roasted coffee, is right in my road house – H₂O aside, my consumption of beer is rivaled only by that of coffee, and I like to fancy myself a connoisseur of both. (If that last sentence confuses you, you should know that 1) I’ve renamed my “wheelhouse” in honor of Patrick Swayze’s 1989 masterpiece, and 2) I italicized connoisseur because it looks a little more pretentious that way.)

The blessed marriage of roasted malts and Kona coffee (“Kona” is the name of the moku, or district, on the Big Island where Kona coffee is grown and Kona Brewing is located) results in a medium-bodied, espresso-colored ale topped by a dark-tan, well-laced head. The aroma is of dark-chocolate-covered coffee beans with a hint of campfire smoke. The flavor is pretty mellow, some sweetened coffee at the forefront followed by a touch of burnt popcorn. There isn’t any noticeable hop character in the aroma or flavor, but a little bit of bitterness at the end helps to balance what is essentially a pretty sweet beer (sweet in the literal sense but also sweet like Road House is). The carbonation is a little high and the mouthfeel a little light for me, but you can’t say it’s not drinkable. (Well, you can say that, but I would not be in agreement.)

This is definitely not a big beer (5.4 percent ABV), and like Kona’s other beers, it eschews big, dense flavors in favor of crowd-pleasing, clean drinkability. If you like your coffee strong (like Swayze) and black (definitely not like Swayze), Pipeline may not be exactly what you have in mind. That being said, the coffee really is beautifully used – you know it's there, but it’s not overbearing or astringent. You won’t need a first-rate cooler like Dalton to clean this beer up – it’s pretty nice as-is.

Boulevard Bob's '47 Oktoberfest

2011-09-27T21:39:00.000-07:00

Boulevard Brewing Bob's '47 Oktoberfest: Kansas City, MO

Boulevard's Bob's '47 is a real looker. It pours a glimmering, gleaming, clear amber-russet color with a white, creamy head that dissipates rather quickly. Endless streams of tiny bubbles rise up from the bottom of the glass as you drink, as if Bob himself is doing a chicken dance in your cup. The aroma, however, is a bit less striking. It's like that prom date that was a perfect 10 -- in looks and IQ. (You can't have it all.)

You can see Bob's chicken dance going on here.

Okay, okay, Bob's '47 smells pretty decent, but the aroma is subtle, reminiscent of apple cider with a bit of cloves and earthy “noble” hops thrown in (noble hops are the old-school European varieties, much less bitter than American hops). A bit of alcohol and other un-pick-out-able spice shows up in the nose as well.

The beer's flavor is very satisfying and just damn refreshing -- like if the intellectually challenged hot chick was a really good volleyball player, too. Bob's is certainly malt-focused, as these dark German lagers should be, but a substantial balancing bite from the hops aids drinkability in a serious way. There is just a hint of raisins on the tongue, and maybe nuts, and maybe grapefruit, as well as some subtle apple flavors. The finish brings throaty spice and grassy hops – Bob's is definitely hoppier than many Oktoberfests I've had, but it’s welcome here.

Overall, Bob's '47 is smooth, crisp and cleaner than a Will Smith "hip-hop" record. It's a fairly straightforward session beer, but for football season, it's a great step up from American lagers. If you have the defective gene that makes you paint your chest and go to games shirtless, you’ll appreciate the somewhat fuller body, comforting toasty flavors and slightly higher alcohol content when that nipple-hardening autumn breeze starts a-blowing.

Oktoberfest beers are meant to be drank. Bob's '47 is a tasty little number that you could quaff by the boot-full, and it would go great with dinner – schnitzel, pretzels and sausage, obviously, though roasted chicken or even a cheeseburger would do well in a pinch, too.

Allagash Tripel

2011-09-14T23:00:00.000-07:00

Allagash Tripel Reserve: Portland, ME

Oh, the ever-elusive Allagash. Long have I pined for a taste of beer from this magical Maine brewery, whose beer is distributed in 20 states but none nearly close enough to Colorado. In fact, so long did I pine for Allagash that when I picked up a few bottles in Georgia at the beginning of July, I couldn’t bring myself to open one until tonight, a little more than two months later.

The “one” (yes, think Neo) that I opened is the Tripel Reserve, Allagash’s take on a Belgian tripel, a light-colored, high-alcohol style brimming with fruity esters and spicy phenols. (As a side note, the “Tripel Reserve” is the same beer as the brewery’s “Tripel Ale,” except that it comes in a corked, 750-ml bottle instead of a six-pack. It's true that the big, corked bottles are more fun to reserve, but you can cellar the little ones, too.)

This tripel pops and pours like a champagne, with a HUGE head of the tiny-bubble variety that leaves super-sticky lacing on the inner walls of the glass. The beer is pale gold in color (just a shade darker than champagne) with aromas of honey, pepper and arugula. The somewhat subdued nose gives way to a big, purdy, smooth taste. 9 percent alcohol? Nonsense!

Medium-bodied with an effervescent but notably creamy mouthfeel, Tripel Reserve packs flavors of apple juice, bananas, honey and grains of paradise. The beer is agile but big; complex and savor-able with a hit of spice in the back of the throat on the long finish. It’s a beautiful, seductive beer, so much more drinkable than most tripels I’ve had and perhaps the most drinkable one I’ve had. (Dr. Butzen says: Tripels get their drinkability from the use of sugar as an adjunct, which adds alcohol without adding body, and from high carbonation, which helps bring out complex flavors and makes the beer taste more ”dry.”)

One of the things that most piqued my interest about Allagash Brewing Co. is what it’s doing with spontaneous fermentation, using a coolship and Maine’s natural, wild yeasts to ferment lambic-style beers in the Belgian tradition. While I couldn’t find one of those “wild” ales to bring back to Colorado, this Tripel Reserve is a pretty heady nod to Belgian tradition itself. These guys nailed it, and I’m sure the bottle of Dubbel I’ve got from them won’t get a chance to age much longer. This is one of the first breweries I’m going to seek out at the Great American Beer Fest in two weeks, and if you can find their beers in your area, I recommend seeking some out, like, today.

New Belgium Abbey Grand Cru

2011-08-25T09:38:00.000-07:00

New Belgium Lips of Faith Abbey Grand Cru: Fort Collins, CO

Many self-professed “big beer nerds” have gotten good and practiced at dismissing New Belgium Brewing as too mainstream and not “craft”-y enough for their liking. After all, they don’t make a double IPA, or an imperial stout, or a barleywine, or any beers brewed with chocolate-covered grasshopper droppings and ground pygmy boar tusks. Furthermore, I am one of many who, despite Fat Tire being my entry point into craft beer more than 10 years ago, doesn’t ever drink it anymore. (That’s right – I was 16 when I tried Fat Tire. I had a cool mom.)

“Steal” yourself one or two of these.

If these arguments don’t sound like good enough reasons to dismiss New Belgium, well, they’re not. It’s called New Belgium, not New Southern California. You don’t have to drink Fat Tire or Sunshine if those beers are too mainstream and not extreme enough for you, but it’d be foolhardy to miss out on the brewery’s big, beautiful Belgians like the Abbey Grand Cru.

New Belgium’s regular, six-packed Abbey is one of the best – and most affordable – Belgian-style ales made in this country, as well as a personal favorite. (I also count among the best the brewery’s Trippel and the unparalleled La Folie.) The Abbey Grand Cru is an amped-up version of the Abbey (a Belgian dubbel) brewed on the occasion of every 1,000th batch of Abbey and packaged in painted bombers. It’s about as impressive as expected.

The beer pours a clear ruby-mahogany with an airy, white head, smooth (not sticky) with very intricate lacing. I pick up dates, plantains, Bubble Yum, pumpkin pie spice and grass in the nose, with a hit of clean alcohol. The body is medium with a syrupy slant, and it shows off its 9.5 percent alcohol with a little burn on the way out. The somewhat complex but clean flavor doesn’t have a lot of surprises after smelling it – cloves, Dubble Bubble, a bit of dark fruit and a reminiscence of root beer or sarsaparilla. Spicy but smooth, understated and elegant. I’m looking forward to drinking the other bottle I bought in a year or two – with the alcohol mellowed out a tad, I think I would enjoy this even more.

I paid $6.49 plus tax for this bottle, which was bottled on March 16 of this year. I would gladly pay more for it, and I’m pretty cheap – at this price, Abbey Grand Cru is a welcome steal. I recommend figuratively stealing yourself one.

Abita Turbodog

2011-08-11T08:13:00.000-07:00

Abita Turbodog: Abita Springs, LA

Though I’m now quite familiar with Abita Brewing Co. from its appearances on the many episodes of True Blood I’ve watched (guiltily, every one of them), the brewery seems to fly under the radar of many Western craft-beer lovers, myself included. I believe I have now “discovered” this Southern brewing gem, though, and I see why there’s an Abita sign on the wall of shapeshifter Sam Merlotte’s bar -- and why one of the tap handles there pours Turbodog.

Yeah, I don't know what "Turbodog" means, either.

Never mind that all the living patrons at the bar always seem to be drinking macro-lager -- I’m sure there are a few discerning souls in Bon Temps who keep the kegs of Turbodog fresh. This brown ale is another in a string of recent brown-ale epiphanies I've had that have shown me than the style does not have to be bland and nondescript. (The other eye-openers included DFH Indian Brown, Brooklyn Brown and Terrapin Hop Karma.) Turbodog scores big points for squeezing deep, roasted chocolaty flavors into a beer with an exceptional quaffability. (It’s my blog, I can make up words if I want.)

What we are talking about here is a dark, clear, bordering-on-crimson brown ale with a lacy, Dockers-colored head. It’s a beautiful-looking beer, though the head could be a bit thicker. The aroma is a bit subdued, but cherries, dark wood, noble hops and milk chocolate poke through the clouds at one’s nose. The flavor hits with fleeting notes of brown bread (Outback Steakhouse-style) and cocoa, with a bit of a coffee aftertaste. There is a nice little snap to Turbo (a combo of hops, roasted grains and carbonation), and it starts sweet but finishes dry, beckoning one back to the glass for another sip.

Turbodog went very well with the chicken alfredo pasta I was eating the first time I tried it -- like a cup of coffee with the alfredo’s cream -- and it was great after dinner the second and third and fourth times I tried it. Turbodog is not as malty or complex as some of the browns that I love (or as hoppy), but it’s a nice, roasty treat, and it will go down faster than those other browns, which is important if you’re trying to keep the kegs fresh in a bar full of rednecks and vampires.

Great Divide Rumble IPA

2011-08-04T21:37:00.000-07:00

Great Divide Rumble Oak-Aged India Pale Ale: Denver, CO

There’s a bit of dispute about whether aging India pale ale on oak is “authentic” to the original style of the beer, which used heaps of hops to preserve the integrity of British pale ale on its voyage to colonies in India. The facts I’m choosing to believe are that while IPA was indeed shipped overseas in oak barrels, those barrels were lined and sealed with brewers’ pitch, which would have effectively created a seal between the beer and the oak, thus keeping any oak flavors from sneaking into the beer.

So Great Divide’s Rumble IPA is probably more American invention than British tradition, but this is the kind of experimentation that makes me fall in love with this country all over again (see Lee Greenwood’s hit song for further information). Rumble is easy-drinking and beautiful, a moderate-gravity IPA that has picked up a conspicuous mellowness and some gentle, dessert-like flavors after spending time on French and American oak.

This malt beverage (brewed just blocks from my house – I'm due for a visit) is a deep, clear auburn/garnet beauty with a long-lasting, creamy, spottily laced head. It’s a real joy to look at – it has a full, developed, vintage look and a soft glow to it. The smell is sweet and more piney-hoppy than fruity-hoppy, with a hint of not-unpleasant staleness, like beer spilled on a bar mat. There is a biscuity sweetness at the outset followed by a mellow bitterness. Light oak (i.e., not deeply toasted) and caramel flavors come through on the super-smooth finish along with notes of vanilla and orange peel. Rumble is silky smooth but chewy and a bit thick – it’s not quite as refreshing or easy to slam as some IPAs, but it’s extremely drinkable, and meant to be savored and explored anyway.

It’s really a treat to get a barrel-aged beer like Rumble in a somewhat-regularly-priced six-pack instead of in an overpriced bomber. (I also found some Rumbles in a Great Divide “Brewers’ Picks” mixed 12-pack recently.) I could use a touch more hop bitterness and aroma in this beer (hop character does fade with barrel aging, or any aging), but it works and works well as-is. Rumble is classy, mature, a bit muted and very friendly. Get to know it if you can.

The Bruery Orchard White

2011-07-18T21:17:00.000-07:00

The Bruery Orchard White: Placentia, CA

Greetings, friends, neighbors and strangers. I’m drinking a beer that’s so tasty I felt that it warranted a few words in this space, even if it’s never been very easy to find, and is now even more difficult to procure, as the beer’s brewery (The Bruery) is discontinuing the beloved beverage to make room for more of its lauded – and perhaps even more beloved – barrel-aged beers.

The head subsided before I got this photo,
but it was amazing while it lasted.

A worthy cause, to be sure, but it’s unfortunate that Orchard White is on the chopping block due to what is actually massive growth and expansion at The Bruery. (For more insight and information, read the company’s blog post here.) So without further ado, I’ll offer a quick tribute to this lovely Belgian wit, with hopes that you can still find a bottle before it’s all been drank.

Orchard White proves that light, friendly beers don’t have to be boring. Topped by a gigantic, pillowy, rocky, bright, white-as-new-Hanes head (it deserves all those adjectives), the beer is very pale in color, almost like a pilsner, but radiant and a little hazy. The nose is joyous and sharp, smelling of Juicy Fruit gum, scented bath soaps, apples, chlorine and faintly of grasses and herbs. The flavor is tart and spicy, with notes of citrus, honey and French bread. The beer finishes dry but is quenching and refreshing. The lavender mentioned on the bottle works really well here – I wasn’t at all excited about that ingredient before tasting the beer, and, well ... you know what happens when you assume. The lavender really helps to round out the flavor while adding another layer of complexity to the taste and the aroma.

American interpretations of Belgian wit can often be overly sweet or sloppily spiced, and to me at least, many of them taste forced, fake and cheap. Orchard White, on the other hand, is subtle and smooth but bursting with flavor – real, earthy, natural flavor. This beer most definitely renewed my faith in the style – it’s a shame it won’t be around for long for other breweries to use as a benchmark. Find a bottle while you can!

Dogfish Head Indian Brown

2011-07-14T20:17:00.000-07:00

Dogfish Head Indian Brown Ale: Milton, DE

It’s taken me a regrettably long time to explore Dogfish Head’s beers – not because I haven’t always enjoyed them, but because DFH sticker shock here in the West has deterred me from many a potential purchase. However, among other things (including financial recklessness and what I like to call “beer-purchasing maturity”), I’ve just become too damn curious to hold out any longer.

They could probably sell it for less, but
it's worth the extra couple bucks.

So it was only recently that the brewery’s Indian Brown Ale changed my entire outlook on brown ales. (DFH calls it a hybrid of a brown ale, a Scotch ale and an IPA, but overall, it still falls into the brown ale category.) I have always liked the idea of brown ales – malty, rich, smooth, not too dark – but many of them are just “meh.”

Indian Brown, though, is the polar opposite of meh. (What would the kids say? Epic?) The medium-bodied beer pours a deep russet brown with wonderful clarity, reddish hues when the glass is held up to the light, and an intricate, light-brown head that dissipates quickly, though bubbles remain throughout the drinking session. The beer is superbly carbonated, but I’m suspicious I would like it better with a little less carbonation.

Indian Brown smells like good dark malt extract (the kind used for homebrewing), with a syrupy and caramel-like aroma. It also smells kind of like chocolate pudding, which is awesome. The taste, though, conjures images of autumn, Indian corn and campfires. It’s sweet, rich and caramelly, but it has a refreshing bitterness and lightness thanks in part to a much larger dose of hops (including dry-hopping) than most brown ales receive. There are flavors of really good, light-roast coffee, sans any coffee-like astringency. Notes of brown sugar round out the taste.

As I said, brown ales don’t usually have enough going on to excite my old soul of a palate, but Indian Brown is an experience, and a delicious one. Definitely don’t drink it too cold, or too fast. It goes down quickly, but its 7.2 percent alcohol content will scalp you if you don’t mind those Ps and Qs.

New Belgium Le Terroir

2011-06-21T21:57:00.000-07:00

New Belgium Le Terroir Dry Hopped Sour Ale: Fort Collins, CO

(New Belgium beer, Great Divide glass
... my apologies for any confusion.)

Despite the refusal of many wannabe upper-crusters to recognize it, beer is the new wine. Actually, that’s not even doing beer justice – beer is now and has been for some time a far more interesting beverage than wine, growing and evolving in dog years while wine … well, while wine has just stayed wine. Wine has always been fermented grape juice and it always will be. The evolutionary possibilities with beer, however, are endless, and modern craft brewers are intent on proving so with their endless permutations of hops, malts, yeast, fruit, bacteria (mm-hmm), spices, chocolates and so on and so forth.

It’s about time beer got the recognition it deserves, and New Belgium Brewing decided to force the issue a bit by appropriating for its dry-hopped sour ale a ubiquitous word in the wine world: terroir. This word is used by wine enthusiasts to refer to the characteristics that the “land” (terre in French – i.e., the soil, the climate, etc.) imparts to the grapes that become the finished wine. New Belgium uses the term to refer to the characteristics that the brewery’s wooden barrels impart to the beer. These barrel-imparted “characteristics,” in short, kick ass.

The beer – called Le Terroir – pours a somewhat hazy golden-straw color, with not much head to speak of. It has a nice, bright hop aroma mixed in with some stale, grassy funk. The dry hopping is really a genius application for a sour beer, since it adds a beautiful hop aroma and some desirable hop flavors without increasing the beer’s bitterness. (Bitterness does not mesh well with sourness in beer, or at least I’ve never had a beer in which it did.)

As far as the sourness, Le Terroir is just slightly sour, with tart peach and mango flavors on top of a light, inoffensive malt background. I tend to like a lot of sourness, but this beer is subtle, balanced and clean, and I like it a lot, as Forrest Gump would say. Le Terroir is cleansing and refreshing, with a light mouthfeel and a mild effervescent burn on the palate. Drinking it will inevitably lead to some tasty Amarillo hop burps, which make burping fun again (you know, if it’s lost its sheen).

Le Terroir is one of the most accessible sour beers I’ve had, and it’s a wonderful place to start for those interested in exploring the wonders of mouth-puckering brews. It’s not mind-blowing (i.e., it’s not La Folie, from the same brewery), but it’s an interesting and solid brew. As is often the case, it’s tempting to drink Le Terroir right out of the fridge (because it’s really good that way), but it really fills out – gets a little softer, a little more sour, a little more funky-smelling – with 20 or 30 minutes at room temp.

Sour, barrel-aged beers like Le Terroir deserve to be savored, especially when they come in keepsake painted bottles, but this beverage begs the drinker to drink more and contemplate less. When a beer asks for such treatment, it’s wise to just do as you’re told.

Deschutes Twilight Summer Ale

2011-05-20T11:46:00.000-07:00

Deschutes Twilight Summer Ale: Bend, OR

Before Edward and Jacob captured the hearts and imaginations of every teen girl and homosexual male in America, there was Deschutes Twilight Summer Ale.

Decidedly less moody than the novels and film series, this Twilight pours an attractive golden straw color that conjures images of warm evenings and late-setting suns. Twilight is basically a mild American pale ale, exhibiting a mellow but pronounced hop intensity with a floral and resinous aroma that includes hints of pineapple. It is slightly more substantial but much more flavorful than most “summer” beers, boasting a light malty sweetness and a wafer-like character in a medium-light body.With its crisp hop and citrus flavors, this beer should hold as much mass appeal as the other Twilight, albeit with a different crowd.

Twilight is a refreshing, nuanced, subtle beer, and it won’t offer the canoe-paddle-strike of flavor that many hopheads and otherwise palate-damaged beer geeks crave, myself included. However, in the bigger-is-better philosophy of American craft beer culture (and American culture in general), it’s nice to see such care taken on a “smaller” beer, and I doubt any true beer aficionado would turn his or her nose up at this one.

Twilight is the ultimate summer session beer. It won’t feel too heavy or filling after three or four, and at 5 percent ABV, it will get you exactly as drunk as drinking Budweiser would – but you’ll be a happier drunk. It also has about the same amount of calories as Budweiser (162 in Twilight vs. 145 in Bud Heavy, according to the Internets). Twilight will be perfect for all the stereotypical summer-beer situations – mowing the lawn, barbecuing or drowning out the sounds of bratty children and blowhard uncles at your wife’s family reunion in Branson.

This is an excellent introduction to craft beer for the macrobrew drinker, and a good precursor to hoppy beer for those whose palates may not be ready for a full-on bitterness onslaught. It’s crisp, aromatic and quite enjoyable.

Unfortunately, now if someone asks if I’m a Twilight fan, I have to say yes.

Odell Myrcenary Double IPA

2011-04-19T07:33:00.000-07:00

Odell Myrcenary Double India Pale Ale: Fort Collins, CO

There are quite a few “double” or “imperial” IPAs on the market these days, and if you like super-hoppy, high-gravity beers, it’s almost surprising sometimes how good they all are. In fact, I haven’t had one yet that I don’t like, and several of them – Avery’s duganA, Deschutes’ Hop Henge and Russian River’s Pliny the Elder, all reviewed in this space – I count among my favorite beers.

The only problem with this double-IPA Golden Age is deciding which hop nectar to drink, and Fort Collins’ Odell Brewing Co. has not helped that situation at all with Myrcenary, its new year-round, four-pack offering. This is another great double IPA from a brewery whose versatility is beyond impressive – Odell does it all well, from mass-marketable craft beers (90 Shilling, Easy Street Wheat) to limited-edition, sour and barrel-aged beers (Woodcut Series, Single Serve Series).

Odell has the hops thing dialed in, too. Myrcenary, named for a component of the essential oils in hop flowers (myrcene), uses seven different types of hops (which is a lot), but it has a very cohesive and balanced hop profile. A striking pale orange color with a lacy, creamy head, the initial hop aroma is one of the best parts of this beer, and one of the treats of imperial IPAs in general. This one reeks of tropical fruits and grass or flowers. The taste is super sweet, floral and fruity, with a very bitter bite at the front but a clean, sugary finish devoid of any unpleasant after-flavors. Myrcenary is just incredibly refreshing, which makes it even more shocking that it has a 9.3 percent alcohol content. It’s amazingly drinkable (though its sweetness might become overwhelming after a while), and I put down two bottles of it in less than an hour.

As usual with Odell beers, the packaging is worth the price of admission alone – the artwork is beautiful and unique, managing to be classy but whimsical and modern but timeless all at once. The four-pack of 12-ounce bottles is also nice for “big” beers like this one – I’ve always thought it ironic that many of the highest-alcohol, meant-to-savor beers can only be bought in large, single bottles. Multiple, smaller bottles also make it easier to share Myrcenary, though you honestly may not want to.

Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barleywine

2011-03-28T10:03:00.000-07:00

Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barleywine Style Ale: Chico, CA

Sierra Nevada’s Bigfoot has plenty of characteristics in common with the creature whose name it bears, but stealth and camouflage are not among them. No, you'll know for certain when you've encountered this beast of a beer, with a 9.6 percent alcohol content that you can taste and smell and that you'll probably feel before you finish your glass. The rest of the beer is generally in-your-face as well, with a big, malty, syrupy-sweet body and a pronounced Northwest-hop bitterness to boot.

However, all that pontificating could describe just about any barleywine – big, sweet, bitter, intoxicating. Bigfoot, though, is a special specimen with a mystical nature, each sip imparting understanding along with renewed curiosity and confusion. The brew itself is a mesmerizing, deep, golden red that turns to a dark brown if you look at a full glass straight on. It is capped by a strong, thick and intricately laced head that coats the side of the glass with hundreds of tiny bubbles well after the beer has gone. Like Sierra Nevada’s other beers, Bigfoot tastes and smells gloriously earthy, its fruity, piney aroma giving way to rustic hop and caramel flavors ensconced in an almost chewy and sticky body.

The verdict: this is absolutely one of the best young barleywines I’ve ever had. I'm interested to see what a year or so of aging will do to mellow out some of the sharp edges, but Bigfoot is extremely enjoyable and dangerously drinkable as it stands. It's nice that this beer comes in six-packs instead of just 22-oz. bombers as a lot of big beers do – it gives you the freedom to savor one or two or three now (fair warning: 12 oz. of this may be enough for one sitting) and still have some bottles left over to cellar for subsequent years. In my case, I drank two bottles and stashed away four for later times (if I can keep my hands off them). For such a big, meaty beer, Bigfoot is also refreshingly affordable – I paid $12 for a six-pack.

Bigfoot is a hairy and somewhat intimidating beer to be sure, but it's a big teddy bear at heart – sweet, comforting and sleep-inducing. Just be sure to respect its size, and don’t be afraid to hold on to some – it will almost definitely improve with age.

-AB

Russian River Pliny the Elder

2011-03-07T12:06:00.000-08:00

Russian River Pliny the Elder Double IPA: Santa Rosa, CA

The man, the beer, the myth, the legend. Russian River’s Pliny the Elder is as storied as a relatively young beer can get. I’ve heard tell of many a man who has tasted its seductions and never been the same again. These poor but enlightened souls mostly just suffer their way through long days hollow-eyed and contemplative, monotonously passing time until their next Pliny fix arrives.

These tortured humans may be extreme cases, but the effect this imperial IPA can have on a man is no laughing matter. Pliny is a hop lover’s wet dream, named after a Roman scholar (23-79 AD) who created the botanical name for hops. The beer is obviously hoppy, with a big grapefruit and pine-resin nose interspersed with aromas of pineapple and freshly cut grass. The beer itself is beautiful, a sparkling burnt sienna capped by a lacy, intricately bubbly head. The flavor is surprisingly mellow for a hugely hopped, 8-percent ABV beer, but mellow it is, and just amazingly drinkable.

However, here I begin to diverge a bit from the path of Pliny’s disciples. For my palate, this beer is almost too drinkable for the style. It is without a doubt a spectacularly crafted beer, and without a doubt one of the best double IPAs I’ve ever tasted, but I could use a little more hop bitterness and flavor on the tongue. People – and the bottle itself – say you’ve got to drink this one really, really fresh (it’s supposed to be past its prime two months after bottling), but mine was bottled on January 24, and I drank it on March 3. That’s pretty reasonable (and a little impressive, even) for a beer coming from northern California.

I loved Pliny the Elder, but I’ve had probably two or three beers in the same style that did a little more for me. That being said, this isn’t a legend for no reason, and it may well become your favorite beer. Buy it if you can find it, drink it fresh, and just try not to become a shell of your former self.

Deschutes Hop Henge

2011-01-04T21:20:00.000-08:00

Deschutes Brewery Hop Henge Experimental IPA: Bend, OR

It almost definitely isn’t brewed by aliens, but Deschutes’ Hop Henge has a mystery all its own – namely, an uncanny drinkability despite a monumental amount of hops (pun intended) and a whopping 9.0 percent alcohol content.

This “double” or “imperial” IPA is undeniably well-engineered, pouring a crystal-clear, burnt-orange color with a lacy, bubbly head that is built to withstand the passing of the ages (well, minutes). It has a huge hop aroma, stinking of fresh pine and a plethora of fruit, including grapefruit, papaya and pineapple, as well as a clean, earthy alcohol smell, kind of like a bottle of gin. The taste that follows the smell is similar, bitter but sweet (not to be confused with “Bittersweet” – that’s a Big Head Todd song) with a tropical slant.

However, the alcohol that is present in the nose is not as noticeable in the taste, and Hop Henge slips and slides down the gullet like a dream. It has a medium, creamy body and a somewhat sticky mouthfeel with an initial, fleeting burst of flavor, which makes it dangerously tempting (and easy) to drink quickly. With its mix of warming and invigorating characteristics, this beer would be an excellent choice for campsite imbibing – plus, you could drink it as fast as you wanted and not have to worry about driving home.

Hop Henge is a refreshing beer in both the literal and figurative senses. Many breweries try to simply manhandle as many hops as they can into their IPAs, often getting the same result Chris Farley got in David Spade’s coat in Tommy Boy – a loss of equilibrium, you could say. Other breweries (i.e., Dogfish Head and its continuously hopped 90 Minute IPA) manage to create something balanced and unique while still pushing the hop envelope, and Deschutes falls squarely into this category with the seasonal Hop Henge. While it’s not my absolute favorite imperial IPA, Hop Henge is a steal for the price (as Deschutes beers are wont to be) and well worth paying a visit to while it’s in stores.

Deschutes Jubelale

2010-10-18T19:14:00.000-07:00

Deschutes Brewery Jubelale: Bend, OR

Seeing seasonal winter beers start popping up on liquor-store shelves is a thing that warms the very cockles of my heart. As with football season, shorter days and color-changing leaves, the arrival of beers like Deschutes' Jubelale gets me to dreaming of powder-strewn mountainsides and Gary Coleman-sized tins of popcorn. That being said, I’m not that wild about actually drinking most "winter" beers, with Jubelale being one notable and unique exception.

Deschutes has a weird and wonderful way of making dark, often heavy-tasting beer styles extremely drinkable – for proof, check out the brewery’s flagship beverage, Black Butte Porter, which is startlingly bright-tasting and by far the easiest-to-guzzle porter I’ve ever guzzled. Jubelale, which features new, festive label art each year from hand-picked Oregon artists (this year’s is the best yet), is another mystical balancing act from Bend, Oregon’s libation factory.

This "strong ale," which Deschutes has been pumping out in increasing quantities since 1988, is rich mahogany in color but relatively light-bodied and effervescent. Its flavor is roasty, nutty and dessert-like, but it has a nice acidity and a bit of a sour bite. In other words, it is pretty malty and pretty hoppy simultaneously, without being too much of either. As with many good beers, the flavor and aroma of Jubelale improve as it warms up a bit, but if you can’t wait to try it (understandable), I’d recommend cracking and pouring two at the same time, letting one open up while you drink the other.

I've never had anything quite like Jubelale – it's like that Danger Mouse mash-up album of the Beatles and Jay-Z , combining traits from two different, seemingly irreconcilable worlds (in this case, those of dark, malty beers and hoppy session beers). Jubelale is a graceful but commanding brew, and while its 6.7 percent alcohol content will keep you warm if your wife’s hot flashes are keeping the thermostat turned down low, it seems better suited for a Christmas-sweater party than for pretending to read Dickens by the fire.

-AB

Lindemans Peche Lambic

2010-07-13T19:25:00.000-07:00

Brouwerij Lindemans Peche Lambic: Vlezenbeek, Belgium

Brouwerij Lindemans’ Peche Lambic is a big tease.

There are several reasons why this is the case, but mostly, the problems have to do with the high expectations I built up before internalizing the Belgian-made beer.

But how could I keep my expectations low? The Peche came heavily guarded with both a cork and a bottle cap, securely ensconced inside a thick bottle sporting a dressy label and a gold-foil top hat. And when I popped said cork, a beautiful, peachy aroma filled the room, reminiscent of the sour, fruity bouquets I’ve been enjoying in some sour Brett beers recently. The lambic was nice to look at, too – effervescent and bubbly with a deep, golden hue and a big, lacy head.

Almost enough to make one propose on the spot, right?

Yes, if only the flavor lived up to the grand presentation. The bold, sour snap that comes with the aforementioned Brett beers is absent here. What’s more, it only kind of tastes like beer, and I don’t know about you, but I really like the taste of beer. The Peche is overly mild – it has only a slight sour edge and really tastes more like apple juice or peach soda than beer. It’s a pleasant, sweet, bordering-on-syrupy piece of work, but it’s not nearly bold or funky enough for my hop-hungry, easily bored palate.

That being said, it’s worth a try, and sharing this baby over brunch would be sublime – it’s a lot more interesting than a mimosa but surprisingly not that far off in flavor. If you’re at brunch with your in-laws, though, don’t expect it to take the edge off – at 4 percent ABV, it just barely edges out near-beer for intoxication potential. (You’ll only want to share it because it’s too sweet to drink very much of – unless your in-laws are really annoying. Then it might be worth the sacrifice.)

Lindemans Peche is good, it’s fine, and I’m glad I’ve tried it, but I’m underwhelmed, and if drinking big beers has made my palate less sensitive to lighter, more subtle flavors that may or may not be present in this lambic, well, that’s my cross to bear. I’d drink this again, but not for a while. Now, I could really use a double IPA.

Odell Saboteur Brett Barrel Brown

2010-04-27T09:34:00.000-07:00

Odell Saboteur Brett Barrel Brown Ale: Fort Collins, CO

Despite craft beer’s unprecedented boom of the past decade, beer still sits lower on the cultural totem pole than does its elitist cousin, wine. Interestingly, the U.S. has had a heavy hand in both the sullying and the sanctification of beer’s good name – while our country leads the international pack in craft beer production and envelope-pushing, it also is responsible for products like the “Dirty 30,” which not only cemented beer’s popularity among NASCAR fans and 17-year-olds but also made lots of people think that beer shouldn’t taste like anything at all.

Cheap beer aside, more expensive “Brett” beers like Odell Brewing’s Saboteur have given beer another notch in its wine-battle belt. Brett stands for “Brettanomyces,” which is a genus of yeast that is, as Odell puts it, “the ultimate adversary of wineries.” This is because the yeast generally imparts undesirable, rancid flavors and aromas to most wines and, indeed, to most beers. With some beers, however, Brettanomyces helps construct a complex, sour flavor profile that is an experience all its own.

Since all that qualifies a beer as a Brett beer is the use of the yeast, the Lewises and Clarks of beer drinking will encounter Brett beers of all shapes and sizes. Saboteur is the darkest one I’ve tried – a deep, chocolate brown with an effervescent, ephemeral texture. The first impression on the tongue is one of an almost porter-like brown ale, but that quickly gives way to a fruity, earthy, sour finish. It’s a disconcerting mix of flavors and textures that is next to impossible to pin down, but it’s got a magic all its own (think sorcery, not card tricks). Saboteur, which is oak-aged and bottle-conditioned, is soft and supple, but it has a sour bite from the Brettanomyces – however, there’s little alcoholic bite, despite a 10 percent alcohol content.

Saboteur is a sweet, strange, special beer. If you’ve never had a Brett beer, it’s a fine place to start – not as sour as some and relatively drinkable. If you’re sick of wine snobbery, have a Saboteur, and bask in the glorious sunlight of victory.

-AB

Peruvian for better and worse

2010-03-22T22:40:00.000-07:00

Los Cabos II
1525 Champa Street
Denver, CO 80202
303-595-3232

Los Cabos II, Champa Street’s unassuming Peruvian dining hall, is in many ways a reflection of Peru itself – for better or worse. The restaurant is at turns impressive and confusing, and it can feel comfortable or disjointed depending on how you tilt your head.

The first time I visited Los Cabos II, I was treating a close friend whom I had visited while she was living in the wildly historic and multicultural city of Cusco, Peru. The culinary endowments of this city and the country as a whole leave something to be desired for the aristocratic gourmand, but for the weary and underfunded traveler, Peru’s readily available, simple and spot-on preparations of fresh ingredients are a breath of fresh air conditioning after days spent on the country’s dusty city streets or skyscraping mountainsides.

In Peru, eating fresh and seasonal food seems to be the rule, not the exception, and my friend and I were often served fruit salads of just-picked mangoes, papayas and bananas or side dishes of perfectly ripe tomatoes, giant avocados and red onions at prices that almost made us feel guilty. (Almost.)

In contrast, I almost felt guilty for giving so much money to Los Cabos II for its Peruvian food – though having dined in the country itself, where a third of the population is considered poor and an American dollar goes farther than you think it should, may have skewed my viewpoint.

All varieties of guilt aside, the lomo saltado I ordered on my first visit to Los Cabos II was a perfect take on the common Peruvian entrée. Juicy strips of steak, sautéed with onions, peppers, tomatoes, garlic and Peruvian chili pepper (aji), were escorted to the table by the kind of potatoes that aren’t nearly rampant enough in American cuisine – thick, hand-cut wedges fried to a golden, crispy nirvana on the outside with a soft and rewarding interior. (I don’t generally like French fries, but this is what all fries should aspire to.) The dish was excellent in its own right, but most importantly, it captured the distinctive and unmistakable flavor of genuine Peruvian cuisine, which made the relatively high asking price of $13.50 for inexpensive ingredients more palatable. I’m willing to pay for nostalgia, I suppose.

The asking price of my pisco sour, a cocktail of grape liquor (pisco), lemon juice, sugar, bitters and whipped egg whites, was much less palatable. Nine bucks for a cocktail is an astronomical price in a place like this, where the food is simple, the atmosphere is casual and the décor sometimes ventures into the realm of kitschy. Nonetheless, it honestly was the best pisco sour I’ve ever tasted, a sweet and sour balancing act with an ephemeral, frothy head.

When the sweet nectar of the pisco sour ran dry and I finally got my waiter’s attention – a Colombian, though he often took the same lackadaisical but genial approach to service that is Peru’s hallmark – I asked for a Cusqueña, an uninteresting though refreshing Peruvian lager advertised on the menu. No dice. The next time I visited the restaurant for an early, after-work dinner, there was once again no Peruvian beer in sight. Proper stocking, especially of imported or rare menu items, is a tricky tightrope walk, only noticeable when a restaurant falls off, but keeping menu items in stock shows a level of care and attention that could be ramped up at Los Cabos II.

The second time I was denied a Cusqueña, I opted instead for the chicha morada, a pinot noir-colored, non-alcoholic drink made by boiling purple maize with fruit and spices. Los Cabos II’s version had joyous chunks of green apple lounging about in it and tasted like mulled grape juice, with cinnamon and clove flavors shining through the deep purple brew. It was the one item I didn’t balk at the price of – it’s well worth $2.75.

This corn-based cooler was also a good sidekick to the ceviche mixto I ordered for dinner. Ceviche is Peru’s signature dish in a cuisine with few signature dishes – categorically comparable to the paella of Spain. Los Cabos’ ceviche mixto is a potent blend of white fish (tilapia), shrimp, calamari and octopus left to marinate and “cook” in a blend of lime juice, cilantro and crushed aji peppers, then topped with raw red onions and served with a perfectly boiled and cooled sweet potato on the side. The deep yellow-orange ceviche broth was good enough to drink – I only stopped trying to spoon it into my mouth when my Colombian waiter gave me a sideways glance for doing so. The seafood that showed up for the ceviche party varied in quality – the tilapia was tender and had absorbed a nice tart and spicy flavor from the broth, though the calamari rings were rubbery and tasteless. The shrimp was juicy but too rare in the dish, though the texturally challenged octopus was plentiful. Still, it was refreshing to see some dark, sucker-laden octopus flesh in the otherwise colorless mass of seafood.

Dining at Los Cabos II is an interesting if somewhat grating visual experience. Pictures of Machu Picchu and Cusco’s Plaza de Armas adorn the walls, and there are plenty of artifacts one could find in Peru’s exceptional and affordable markets, such as brightly painted vases and traditional wooden panpipes. The tables and chairs in the restaurant are all solid wood, rustic and sturdy, with the restaurant’s name engraved in the chairs’ backs – so far, so good.

Eventually, however, one’s eye will wander to the life-size, stuffed-animal alpaca hanging out by the bar, or the golden cat waving at patrons from the dessert cooler, or the huge aluminum cutout of a Peruvian cowboy hanging on the south wall, or the plastic palm trees on either side of the buffet. It’s hard to ignore these trailer-park treasures while sipping a $9 cocktail, but more than being eyesores, they take what would otherwise be a relatively classy, exotic-feeling place and push it dangerously close to the Chinese restaurant fad of self-caricature.

But maybe that’s the point. Peru, with its cultural mix of Spanish conquistadors and various Amerindian tribes, not to mention its juxtaposition of crowded, dirty cities with alpine and jungle wildernesses, is a country with a bit of an identity crisis. Los Cabos II may suffer from some of the same, but at least it’s Peruvian to the letter.

-AB

New Belgium Ranger IPA

2010-03-14T19:35:00.000-07:00

New Belgium Ranger India Pale Ale: Fort Collins, CO

The first thing I loved about New Belgium’s new Ranger IPA is that it’s a New Belgium IPA. My friends, casual acquaintances and probably some strangers could tell you that I have an unabashed crush on New Belgium. Not only is it the magic factory that introduced me to high-quality Colorado craft beer eight or so years ago, but as Fat Tire has become about as common as Miller Lite on taps across this state (and many others), New Belgium has continued to keep it real. The brewery is a place of responsibility and joy, devoted to alternative energy, sustainability and efficiency, and its employees are some of the happiest and healthiest-looking beer drinkers on the planet, no doubt due to an excellent benefits program and rewards aplenty (like a free cruiser bike after a year of employment). This craft brewery among craft breweries has never had its own India pale ale, however, so I was as excited to see Ranger on a cooler shelf as I was to see their Mighty Arrow pale ale around this time last year.

The first thing I hated about the Ranger IPA was its label – fetching, to be sure, and the illustration of hops flowers is fittingly reminiscent of pine cones and the piney, resinous flavor contained within – but my problem was with consistency. The styling didn’t match that of every other New Belgium six-pack I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. For a company that has been so diligent in building and maintaining a classy, unique and attractive image over the years, I was taken aback to see that one new beer apparently warranted a new design style.

Since I bought the Ranger, I’ve seen several other New Belgium beers packaged in the same style – apparently, these are part of the “Explore Series,” which, according to the brewery, comprises “our jet set beers that include both new ventures from our brew house and reintroductions to some of our most respected creations.” Now I understand – it’s a marketing move, and that’s fine and expected. Nonetheless, I’m saddened to learn that two of the brewery’s most magical and timeless-tasting beers, Abbey and Trippel, are now being repackaged in this new, slick, less magical and less timeless format. (The more commercially viable Mothership Wit is the fourth beer in the series.) The only upside for me is that these severely underrated beers may get some more attention out of the deal.

Oh yeah, about the Ranger. It’s great. I wouldn’t expect anything but balance and subtlety from New Belgium, and even with a hop-centric brew by definition, they accomplish the same. Piney, earthy and sweet but barely bitter and without a puckering aftertaste, Ranger is lighter and more effervescent than many other examples of the style. It’s sort of an everyman’s IPA, which is great news for the general public, though if you’re really in the mood for the snarl and bite of hops, look elsewhere. One of Ranger’s greatest strengths is its drinkability, which is a benchmark of New Belgium beers, no matter the style. This is a clean, polished IPA, and though I’ll probably always be a little salty about the new design, I’m sure I’ll be back for more.

-AB

Avery India Pale Ale

2010-02-06T22:52:00.000-08:00

Avery India Pale Ale: Boulder, CO

Hops. H-O-P-S. Let’s talk about them.

Hops, as Wikipedia will tell you, are the cone-shaped, female flower clusters that hang ever-so-gracefully off the lush vines of the humulus plant. The humulus (also just called the “hop,” since nothing else the plant produces is as cool) just happens to be a part of the Cannabaceae family, to which the Cannabis genus also belongs. And if you ever walked past the art teacher’s car before first period, you’ll understand that hops and the chronic share some characteristics – both are woodsy and pungent yet dreamily fragrant. Also, both plants have aromas and flavors that take some getting used to.

Now, let’s talk about Avery’s India Pale Ale. Yes, “IPA” is the name of Avery’s IPA. (That’s really all you need to know, but this train is moving on anyway.) This beer is for hop fanatics and hop fanatics only. If you like heavy floral tones and a citrus bite combined with a bitter aftertaste that requires another gulp to wash away (a self-defeating but wonderful cycle), introduce yourself to this beer on the double. If you don’t like hops or haven’t made up your mind about the conic little devils, this beer will be a bit much.

The Avery IPA is the payoff for “figuring out” hops, though. Not a beer for all occasions, it is still a rewarding piece of work. It has a soft snarl that the general public might associate more with a Scotch than with a beer; and the crisp, floral aroma at the front doesn’t at all match the beer’s bitter, malty finish, which is just tricky and cool.

Avery’s India Pale Ale is a bit pretentious, but, like the Harvard Law Review, it’s really well done – even if you don’t get it. And like Kanye West, it’s good, so it does whatever it wants – which, in this case, is to be as hoppy as a drinkable beer can be.

-AB

Ballast Point Wahoo Wheat

2010-01-22T23:50:00.000-08:00

Ballast Point Wahoo Wheat Beer: San Diego, CA

Wahoo Wheat is a deceptively tasty beer -- deceptive because in spite of the bottle's claims of being "cloudy,""unfiltered" and "Belgian-style" (incidentally my favorite compound modifier when it comes to beer), the first couple of pours look a bit anemic and -- brace yourselves -- light.

Beer heads like myself don't care too much for "light"-looking beers. We want big, powerful beers with a deep, mysterious side to keep us warm at night. (That can't just be me, can it?) I want something that looks, smells and tastes serious. The smooth, light-bodied, straw-colored Wit that is Wahoo Wheat really only clocks in on one of those fronts: the taste.

Ah, the taste. Wahoo tastes like a Spanish summer, bursting with spice and citrus --though that description is something of a cop-out. The label can tell you that Wahoo is brewed with coriander, orange peel and curacao (curacao referring to the citrus fruit grown on the Caribbean island of Curacao -- actually called "lahara"), but the label's prose is as good a description as any.

Wahoo's finish is clean and clear, and the crisp, dry flavor of the beer is addictive -- I often set my glass down only to discover that wasn't what I wanted to do at all. It'd be easy to drink a whole lot of this beer, since it's not really any heavier than Budweiser, but it tastes so very much better. Wahoo is the REAL definition of "drinkability." Every beer lover needs a solid, go-to session beer, something refined but crowd-pleasing, and Ballast Point's wheat is just that.

As a postscript, the cloudiness does come through more as you get further into the bottle, so either drinking out of the bottle or pouring the whole bottle into a glass at once would be the way to go, although the 22-ouncer makes both options undesirable or improbable.

Avery duganA Double IPA

2010-01-19T10:47:00.000-08:00

Avery duganA Double IPA: Boulder, CO

There’s no doubt that Avery’s duganA IPA is an India pale ale. It’s got all the characteristics beer geeks expect from a fine example of one of the hoppiest beer styles ever created – this beer is bitter, resinous, herbal and not for everyone. In fact, since duganA is a double IPA, one might expect it to have an extra helping of all of these qualities, and in a way, it does.

The copper-hued beer’s reek of pine resin and sweet fruit gives the nostrils an enlightening burn upon whiffing deeply, akin to how the medium-bodied ale burns the tongue on the way down (and even more so if you let it sit in the front of your mouth for a while – which, as all wine buffs know, is an excellent way to befriend the nuances of your drink).

But the burn is a cleansing, liberating one, similar to the way followers of the Hindu goddess Ganga – who, not coincidentally, graces the duganA label – bathe in the Ganges River to wash away their sins and break free of the cycle of life and death. And the burn, as well as the bitterness and the spiciness, are not really “doubled” in this double IPA. Instead, their upped quotients perfectly complement the increased floral and fruity flavors in the brew to create an otherwordly nectar, kind of how I imagine the Ent-draught from Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Rings would taste – earthy, biting, sweet and invigorating. In other words, beautiful but badass.

duganA is a big, hoppy journey, but the payoff is sublime for those that stay the course. Allow it to get cool, not cold, and let the cleansing liquid wash over you. Or just drink it – it’s kind of expensive to bathe in.

-AB