Unknown's avatar

About Brian Yaeger

Author of beer books "Red, White, & Brew" & "Oregon Breweries" and, soon, "American Doughnut."

Meet FSR’s new Co-Beer-Editor

As a testament to how great of a job my friend and colleague Ken Weaver did as the Beer Editor of FSR (a trade magazine for the, wait for it, Full Service Restaurant… and yes there is a QSR magazine), it took two of us to replace him when he left. That means every other month Jeff Cioletti pens a column about beer in FSR’s “Liquid Intelligence” department along with 8 beer reviews, and then we switch off. For my first column in the June 2016 issue, inspired by that thing we get inversely proportionally to beer (the sun. I’m talking about sunshine.), I tackled the heady subject of beer menus at pubs with killer patios/beer gardens.

 

Bodily Brewing Taps Micro Terroir: single-organism fluids

Bodily Br12654105_966186803457786_7032166315431549631_newing will be oozing into and out of a taproom near you soon. When fermented wort no longer catches beer drinkers’ eyes on beer-flavored beer’s merits alone, these Portland, Oregon brewers are turning to fermented warts. The brewery’s focus will not be on kettle-soured beers popular of late, but will push the envelopes by turning to intestinal and bladder soured beers. So if you think they’re taking the piss, you’re right. Their first beer, to be released this summer, is Gose to the Bathroom, a tart, refreshing Leipziger-style gose replacing sea salt with high-salinity urine. It will be followed by the hazy Bile IPA soured with Butyric acid for fans of extremely hoppy and extremely sour beers.

In an era where every possible ingredient has been used in beer from Dogfish Head’s Arctic Cloudberry Imperial Wheat (brewed in Delaware but brewed using the amber berries that only grow in far northern latitudes and are so valuable, blood has been shed over their cultivation in Scandinavia) to Burnside’s Riffle Urchin Ale from Portland (made with, as the name implies, sea urchin gonads), brewers continue one-upping themselves as far as sourcing stunt ingredients. If the joke seems to be going too far, for some brewers, the joke is merely the starting line. In 2012, Denver’s Wynkoop Brewery released this video for their Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout as an April Fool’s joke but by year’s end, the brewery announced it would seriously be brewing a stout with bull testicles. Similarly, last year Shmalz issued a press release on March 31 announcing their fourth cumming, er, forthcoming Circum Session Ale, but it was just another April Fool’s joke. Cut to March 30, 2016 and the schticky brewery announced the beer is no longer a thin-skinned joke. Asked whether or not the hoppy, session ale will contain actual foreskin, Shmalz founder chewed over his response before answering with precision, “Yes, the beer goes with brisket and comes with a bris kit.”

The move toward not just Oregon-based but organ-based and increasingly human-based adjuncts flies in the face of the Bavarian Beer Purity Law known as the Reinheitsgebot—the law mandating that beer only be made with malted barley (or wheat), hops, water, and yeast—celebrating its 500th anniversary on April 23, 2016. In all cases, these beers are in vast difference to the Reinheitsgebot. In some cases, this new breed of beers is in vas deferens. We’re not referring to Caldera Brewing’s Belgian Dark Strong Ale Vas Deferens brewed in Southern Oregon but Bodily’s planned winter release, Man-Milk Stout made with ejaculate. Admittedly, this one is jerked from the pages of New Zealand brewery Choice Bros Brewery who created Stag Semen Milked Stout.

Said brewmaster B.J. McSnotte, “If it salivates, urinates, regurgitates, or pustulates, it’s gonna end up in our beer.” McSnotte then added, “But we’re not gonna do a sour beer made with vaginal Lacto like that Order of the Yoni crowdfunded beer going around the internet. The one that uses the phrase “vaginal swab” and “feel her smell” in the promo. That shit’s just gross.”

MSG: More Salty Goses

 

IMG_2896

Bruery Terreux once made a gose with truffle salt. But this collab with Libertine uses ocean water. Photo by Brian Yaeger

Although bursting with a sour punch and finishing with a pinch of salinity, the once arcane Gose is not a margarita in beer form. Today, some iterations continue to hinge on the style’s tradition while others boldly bring it into the 21st century. As with many beer styles, brewers in the United States update them in distinctly American fashion. Ironically, for a nation of hop-loving beer drinkers salt is perceived as a flavor enhancer even though it suppresses bitterness. (Odds are, if your grandpa didn’t shake salt into his beer, some of his buddies did.) Which begs the question: will the building Gose wave—Nielsen reported that Gose revenue grew by 291 percent last year—win over palates with a tsunami of salt?

 

Oddball museums and beers

Image may contain: outdoorPeople just love to experience the weird. For this installment of All About Beer’s Beer Traveler column, we explore breweries around the country where one can also visit nearby actual odd museums. After all, beer is its own work of art, but anything can be treasured when displayed properly. Here’s a smattering of the most bizarre collections curated under one roof along with some “only in (insert town here)” beers that can be enjoyed nearby.

 

Fritz Maytag, the godfather of craft

Before I’d ever interviewed a single brewer in person, I managed to schedule nearly a full day’s interview with the iconic Fritz Maytag. The man isn’t just responsible for the survival and success of Anchor Brewing, but, it can be argued (by me and many others), that he spurred the entire craft beer industry. Not a bad legacy. And a decade after my first interview with him, he kindly got on the horn to give me another for Draft Magazine to reflect on that legacy.

 

Liking them apples

feature1-570x

When the CBC hit Portland last year, I said, Man, I gotta write something about this for the Portland Mercury. Which I did. (Then, once the hangover waned, I recapped CBC events for 1859.) When, a year later (present date), CiderCon was heading to, uh, Cidervana, I pitched doing a bigger story and maybe we put it on the cover and really show those cider makers from other places outside the Northwest how big fermented apples are here and what a true cider city looks and reads like. They bought it. Even cooler, I somehow finagled an assignment for 1,800 words into 3,000. Clearly, there’s a lot to say about cider.

 

Beer review: 10 Barrel’s Riding Solo

10BarrelRidingSoloAmong my myriad New Year’s Resolutions for 2016 is to do more beer reviews. Between the samples I happily receive on my doorstep, beer travels that find me at different breweries across strange, new lands and just happening upon a new offering at some local watering hole, I want to ensure I’m paying good attention to what I’m drinking.

Seeing as a delivery guy just dropped off a bottle at 6:30 on a Saturday night, clearly it’s time to begin drinking. The beer is from 10 Barrel in Bend (not the 10 Barrel pub in Boise or Portland or the recently-announced forthcoming one in Denver). It’s called Riding Solo and it is, as the name suggests, a single-hop pale ale. Comet hops to be precise. Not that you’d possibly know that from the label copy. It reads: “We could talk about this single hop, but we’d rather talk about Benny, the brewer behind this pale ale. 4 years ago Benny was on the fast track working for a large brewery, and then it all came crashing down. He made a bad choice, climbed the wrong building in Bend and found himself in the clink without a job. We hired him the next day and he has been crushing it ever since. One brewery’s loss is another brewery’s gain. Cheers to the man behind the beer.”

Man is that a strange way to market a beer that theoretically has some educational aspect to it. It shows drinkers the aromatic and flavor profile of the nearly extinct Comet hop, a USDA varietal that I’ve personally never encountered. And anyone who buys this beer won’t know that they’ve had it. (Unless they are compulsive about every beer they try or read my oft-neglected blog religiously.)

Upon cracking the crown I was met with an herbal whiff and I’m only half referring to reefer. At first sip, I was struck by the spicy, dank bitter beer—like a skunk smoked a spliff cut with black pepper and dried grapefruit peel. It falls into the garlic’n’onion descriptor, too. Although they call it a pale ale, it’s orange in color and at 6.8% ABV and 67 IBUs it presents itself like an India Red Ale in malt and hop character. In fact, the spiciness makes it taste like there’s some rye malt in the grain bill, but doubt there actually is because then they’d probably have called it Ryeding Solo.

Temecula: SoCal’s real birthplace

Growing up in Southern California, and even becoming a burgeoning beer geek down there, I didn’t have much opportunity to become exposed to a real beer culture. Sure it’s booming all over the Southland now, but it was late to the table. Real estate is too expensive for manufacturing. Beer wasn’t seen as stylish as wine and cocktails. Beer has calories and the camera adds ten pints. But before San Diego changed all that, there was beer in Temecula, courtesy of one Vinnie Cilurzo now of Russian River fame! And today, the bedroom community that services both LA and SD is home to nearly a dozen breweries.

What is barely touched on in this story is that I wanted to write this story as a way to kind of illustrate to my dad what I do for a living. He wasn’t much of a craft beer drinker. He is an avid golfer. Temecula is home to some great golf courses, which he’s been playing since I was a little kid and got to drive the golf cart. So I pitched both him, and my editor at All About Beer, this story where he and I would hit the links by day and the myriad breweries by night. (I’m scarcely better at golf now, but my dad has since developed a passion for Berliner Weisse and even barrel-aged sour beers including Russian River Consecration!!)

The Session #107: Are Breweries Your Friends?

sessionAs a precursor, to put this briefly, I’ve been a bad beer blogger. And when it comes to The Session, if I were Catholic, I’d type something like “Forgive me Father, it’s been 30 Sessions since my last participation.” (Click here if you care to see old contributions from my initial blog, Red, White, & Brew) My New Year’s resolution is to be better.

For the 107th ed. of The Session, Dan Conley of Community Beer Works in Buffalo NY asks, a bit self-servingly (wink-wink foreshadowing), “Are breweries your friends?

I say self-servingly because his blog is his brewery’s blog. And it worked. I really wanna try Community Beer Works beer now. And drink their beer and be a part of their community at least for the day. The topic, and hosting this Session, makes them seem, well, friendly. Conley expounds:

“To be in business nowadays you pretty much have to have a social media presence. This is especially true in the beer world, where some breweries have basically built themselves on their personality. And yet, at the end of the day, we’re selling you something.”

Conley continues, “Do you want your feeds clear of businesses, or do you like when a brewery engages with people? …As the person who does our social media…I struggle with this problem.”

My answer is: No.

Breweries are not our friends. Maybe I’m just speaking for myself and should say breweries are not my friends. But unlike Mitt Romney who famously said, “Corporations are people, my friend” (thanks in part to Citizens United), brewing companies are companies and therefore incapable of playing air hockey with me, taking me to a Portland Timbers game (except I suppose their sponsor Widmer Brothers Brewing could), or giving me a card that makes fun of my age for my next birthday. These are things friends do. Friends buy me beer. Breweries make the beer. And even then, what we love about craft beer is that brewers make the beer and, in the best of cases, we know their names and faces. And if you’re lucky, you’re friends with your local brewer(s).

Friendship is a relationship. Indeed, we have a relationship with the breweries that make the beer we choose to drink. And no doubt we have emotions surrounding breweries. In the case of local ones that we support, that emotion may be love. We are passionate about their beer. Given that most of us will never even have a beer from thousands of the 4,300 breweries that exist in the US alone, the emotion we feel for them may be indifference or lack of emotion. And in a few cases where folks feel they’ve been betrayed when a brewery sells out to ABI, a darker emotion courses through their bloodstream. Think about this: would a friend ever sell himself to the house of Bud and leave you high and dry (not that any of us would give up drinking beer altogether, mind you).

Heck, to Conley’s point, we “like” breweries on Facebook, and we delight when we see shiny new fermenters delivered just as we dote over actual friends’ newly delivered bouncing babies. But ultimately, no, breweries are not our friends. They are places we go with our friends. They are places that provide us beer to enjoy as part of our friend rituals. And to succeed, they need to have friendly service. But in the case of social media, I think it’s weird when they have actual personal profiles instead of business pages. I am on the fence about when I see a local brewery’s FB page “like” my pictures. But I’m still happy to tag them by checking in when I’m drinking at them with my friends.

Unsung Brewers

Beer magazines are really good at making sure that they cover more than just beer; they shine a spotlight on the men and women who actually make it. Y’know, the hands in the whole “hand-crafted” thing. I got to do a li’l spotlighting of my own on Allagash’s Jason Perkins (who makes some of my favorite sour cherry beers) in Portland, ME, Duck Rabbit’s Paul Philippon (who keeps the light shining on dark beers) in Farmville, NC, & Carton’s Pete Dickson (who, sorry, prefers to be out of the spotlight) in Atlantic Highlands