Thrilltastic

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Mini Whiskey Tasting: WhistlePig 10yr, Bulleit Rye, Bulleit 10yr Bourbon

A Little Background

I realize that grouping two ryes with a bourbon makes for a bit of an odd comparison since “rye” and “bourbon” are two distinct styles of whiskey. It’s also an odd comparison because two members of the group have been aged for 10 years and the third is somewhere between two and four years old.* On top of this, there’s the fact that two of the whiskeys are from the same producer, all in all making this not only an odd trio to compare but also a curiously (and unintentionally) cohesive group.

How exactly, though, does a “rye whiskey” differ from a “bourbon whiskey”? Well, a rye whiskey must be made with a mash that consists of at least 51% rye (WhistlePig is 100% while Bulleit’s rye whiskey is 95%). Bourbon, on the other hand, must be made with at least 51% corn. There are other qualifications besides the corn content, though. For example, I have heard that Jack Daniels has 51% corn in its mash but it cannot be considered “bourbon” because it goes through a charcoal filtration process at some point, a step that isn’t allowed with bourbon. I highly recommend listening to the episode of On Point with Tom Ashbrook focusing on whiskey to get a better idea of what differentiates one whiskey from another. On a related note, about two years ago I heard  that bourbon must be made in Kentucky. From everything I have heard and read since then, this is not true: to qualify as bourbon, whiskey must follow a certain procedure in creating the whiskey product, but it does not need to be made in Kentucky.

The Trio

The fact that this was an odd bunch turned out to be a strength—having a bourbon alongside two ryes really brought out the bite as well as the grass and vegetal notes of both ryes. And having two older whiskeys alongside a younger one showed the effects that a longer aging period can (or cannot) have on a whiskey. But, even without the bourbon, the WhistlePig and Bulleit Rye differed dramatically. While the Bulleit Rye demonstrated strong grass and rye aromas and flavors, those notes were much softer and more subdued in the WhistlePig. The WhistlePig was also spicier than the Bulleit and had more fruit notes that were also more potent. The spectrum of flavors demonstrated by the WhistlePig was quite something. One moment there were combinations of vanilla and cocoa, then the next we were tasting hints of nectarine, peach, or pear.

Like the WhistlePig, the Bulleit 10 Year Bourbon also had vanilla and chocolate notes, but in a completely different context. First off, while the vanilla and chocolate notes seemed to come in unison in the WhistlePig, they were independent in the Bulleit bourbon. Further, there was a spiciness apparent with the chocolate that gave it a quality akin to Mexican chocolate, which was delicious. The Bulleit bourbon also had a slight smokiness in its aftertaste (whereas we experienced none in the WhistlePig), which framed the drinking experience differently than the WhistlePig.

These three whiskeys also crossed the spectrum of smoothness. The Bulleit bourbon had a little roughness around the edges and the strength of the rye flavors in the Bulleit Rye gave it some punch. In contrast, the WhistlePig was incredibly smooth—the smoothest of the three by far. The smoothness, though, is not meant as a judgment about any of these—rather it is an indication of the character of each.

All this discussion of the Bulleit bourbon and the WhistlePig Rye and hardly any of the Bulleit Rye… As I mentioned, it had strong rye and grass aromas and flavors, which set it apart from the group. But this rye also had nice hints of sweetness that (somewhat) offset the brunt of those rye flavors. The Bulleit Rye also wove in a little earthiness that paired extremely well with those grass flavors and aromas. Like the older whiskeys in the bunch, the Bulleit Rye also demonstrated spice and fruit notes, but they were much more subdued and less prominent than in the others. A Step Further A conversation about Bulleit’s 10 Year Bourbon isn’t really complete without considering their standard Straight Bourbon. Bulleit’s less-aged offering has wonderful vanilla and floral notes that have turned non-bourbon drinkers on to bourbon. But, on a personal level, I greatly preferred the Bulleit 10 Year Bourbon to the Bulleit Straight Bourbon. The regular straight bourbon is phenomenal and I highly recommend it. However, I found the complexity of the 10 year bourbon to be deeper. Also, those strong floral and vanilla notes that make the regular straight bourbon great also turn me off and push me towards the older sibling.

On a related note, I was asked by a friend whether the Bulleit 10 Year is “worth it”. That’s a great question and one that’s worth addressing. The Bulleit 10 Year is an excellent bourbon and I would definitely drink it again. The price tag, though, makes me think twice. In two different liquor stores (about 450 miles apart) the Bulleit 10 Year retailed for about $45. Now, there are plenty of other bourbons that have a price tag that high or even higher, the issue I would bring up is value. Bluntly, to me, the Eagle Rare 10 Year and the Evan Williams 10 Year are comparable to the Bulleit 10 year in terms of flavor quality, complexity, and drinkability, but the Eagle Rare and Evan Williams are both only $30 (actually, the Evan Williams can be found for as little as $21 at times). So, is the Bulleit 10 Year worth it? I’m not so sure. If you’re not on a budget, though, and want another excellent bourbon, go for it.

1. Why “between two and four years”? Well, to be “straight” whiskey, the whiskey must be aged at least two years. Further, in order to put an age statement (e.g., “aged 10 years”) on the bottle, a whiskey must be aged at least four years. The Bulleit Rye says “straight” on the bottle but has no age statement, so we can safely assume that this rye was aged a minimum of two years but almost certainly not more than four. (Yes, putting both “straight” and an age statement on a bottle is somewhat redundant.)↩*

[bookofbourbon]

This question keeps rolling in, as the bars keeps rolling out drinks with a “white dog” base.

Listen, it’s moonshine.

It’s baby whiskey fresh from the still, unaged. The barrels used for aging give bourbon its signature notes and flavors and, ultimately, its rich, distinctive hue....

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The Wedge

So I decided to stop off in NYC to have dinner with Chops. However, due to continuous Sunday afternoon/evening traffic between Washington and NYC, plus a surprise trip to IKEA, I didn’t end up in the City until 10:30 (after having left Washington at 3:30). So, unfortunately, since it was so late, most restaurants were closed which meant that I couldn’t have my corned beef at the Carnegie Deli and that I couldn’t have the delicious soup that the Deli may or may not have had. So, instead we just ended up going to the restaurant in the hotel. A joint called the Bull and Bear or something. It had a stock ticker in it. Just for the record, I had the best piece of chicken I have ever had at this place. That says a lot because a) my mother makes some fucking incredible chicken, b) my dad makes some fucking incredible chicken, and c) Chops’s mom makes some fucking incredible chicken. But that’s not the point. The point was the salad with the bleu cheese. It was just a wedge of iceberg with some bleu cheese slapped on it with some dressing like stuff too. Oh and tomatoes and chopped red onions on top of both. But the point is the “salad” it was just a wedge of shitty iceberg. According to Chops, just having an unceremonious wedge is now “in fashion” at restaurants. It was as if the chef at this restaurant had contempt for me or whoever was eating the salad. The wedge oozed arrogance. It was if by leaving the lettuce in a wedge the chef was saying “fuck you” in a slow non-descript weak accent.

It may have oozed arrogance, but man was it good. And man was that chicken fucking incredible.

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The Tastiest Cinnamon Bun in the Universe

Most of the time cinnamon buns suffer from one of a handful of critical flaws: overly sweet, not sweet enough, too much cinnamon, not enough cinnamon, too much frosting (related to the first flaw), too little frosting (related to the second flaw), too dry (I’ve never had one that was too moist). I would say that “too dry” and “too sweet” are the most common flaws I have come across.

A few weeks ago I made a trip out to Dogfish Head’s production facility in Milton, DE. I arrived an hour before my tour and went into town for a midday snack. I came across The Vintage Cafe and, with nothing other than generally positive reviews from Yelp, I went in. Immediately I saw huge, tasty looking muffins and cinnamon buns. I bought one of each. The muffin was delicious and highly noteworthy, but it’s the cinnamon bun that needs to be written about.

This was the closest thing I have ever had to a perfect cinnamon bun. In fact, I would argue that this WAS a perfect cinnamon bun. There was just enough cinnamon to give a strong-but-not-overpowering cinnamon flavor. The bun itself was nicely moist, not at all dried out, and had a wonderful consistency—slightly chewy but not hard to chew. Then there was the frosting. At first sight it didn’t look like much, but it added just the right amount of sweetness to the bun. This cinnamon bun was so good I bought another one for my drive back to DC (this was actually Brooke’s idea).

If the Three Bears had been eating cinnamon buns instead of porridge, this would have been Wee Bear’s bun: just right. This cinnamon bun was so good that I would drive the two-and-a-half hours back to Milton just for another. Sure, I could get a tour at Dogfish again, but my point is that I would be perfectly happy with the five hours of driving just for this cinnamon bun and no tour. Maybe I should ask them for the recipe so that I don’t need to drive those five hours…

[thrilltastic]

Some people have adventures. I am an adventure.

Hubert de la Bath (OSS 117)

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What Kind of Beer Drinker Are You?

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Round Up: 961's Regulars

By far my favorite from this group was the Lebanese Pale Ale (a review of it can be found here), but 961’s Regulars have a lot going for them as well. Recently there has been a decent amount of press surrounding 961 (their founder/owner is on an East Coast swing). The Washington Post profiled the brewery and Gary Dzen of the Boston Globe reviewed the Lebanese Pale Ale. All of this reminded me that I took notes on 961’s Regulars, and I thought I would share those jottings on the other four beers in 961’s main stable, which take their names from their respective styles: Witbier, Red Ale, Porter, and Lager. You’ll see some bottles in my photos that came with twist-off tops—961 formerly used twist-off caps but the brewery recently switched to pry-off tops. Sorry about the photo of the Red Ale, the lightings not so good...

Witbier

961’s Witbier pours an incredibly pale yellow—it’s almost white—and is practically the color of lemonade. That color is paired with a nice and fluffy white head. The aroma is wonderfully wheaty, a little damp, and just a little lemony. Once on the tongue, Witbier is soft and light, bringing a very light sweetness and a little fruitiness. That fruitiness in particular was quite interesting: there were notes of tangerine and of sweet lemon (I’ve never seen sweet lemon anywhere outside of Lebanon). For folks who avoid bitterness in their beer, this is a great choice—961’s Witbier is only ever-so-slightly bitter.

Porter

I loved this beer. It had a delicious chocolatey, roasty aroma with hints of coffee. The taste was delightful, bringing flavors of milk chocolate, caramel, a little malt, and a touch of smokiness. Porter also has an excellent roastiness that complements coffee flavors (and aromas) in this beer. All of these flavors are rich and Porter itself brings a full flavor, but it does all of this without being heavy. Like Witbier, Porter has a nicely soft and light mouthfeel and a big, fluffy head.

Lager

961’s Lager has the classic appearance of a lager: a beautiful pale-gold color and with a nice, starkly white head. Lager sports a number of classic flavors of a lager: malt, caramel, honey, and a slight herbalness all dominate, with those caramel tones being the strongest of the group. Lager has a slightly fruity finish which some folks might consider an “off flavor” since this is a lager. That may be, but in the context of 961’s Lager it was a really nice taste to have linger on my palate. Broadly, this beer was very easy to drink and I could definitely have a few in one sitting. I’ll close out Lager with this quote lifted from my notes: “Nice on a summer day, but there’s something comforting about it, in such a way that I could enjoy it on a fall or winter evening.”

Red Ale

The Red Ale was the most interesting of 961’s regulars. Apple cider, pineapple, and candy all made appearances in the flavor along with hints of banana, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Red Ale also has a spicy, herbal notes that permeates the body. There’s also a maltiness to the flavor that’s rich and sweet without being cloying. Back to that pineapple flavor, though. It was particularly interesting because the consistency/mouthfeel of this beer is itself somewhat akin to how pineapple juice feels on the palate. Let’s not forget the aroma: Red Ale brought notes of spice, herbs, apple cider, roastiness, and malt.

[laughingsquid]

The Art & Science of Beer Brewing Explained in 5 Minutes

[bookofbourbon]

“Aging has even gone beyond stationary warehouses. For its Ocean-Aged Bourbon, Jefferson’s Reserve placed several barrels on a 126-foot ship and let the casks cruise at sea for nearly four years. The increased oceanic air pressure (compared with its warehouse), along with the Panama Canal’s...

[bookofbourbon]

“You can handle just about anything that comes at you out on the road with a believable grin, common sense and whiskey.”

Bill Murray (via bookofbourbon)

[thrilltastic]

Pilsner Matchup: Mama's Little Yella Pils & The Crisp

A Little Background

Before we launch in to the tasting, it might be useful to cover the basics of pilsnerdom. There’s a lot that can be said about pilsners, so I will do my best to keep this to the point. My apologies in advance: this section started out short, but one thing led to another and it grew. 

First, a brief history: the “pilsner” style originated in the Bohemian town of Plzen (now in the Czech Republic) in the mid-19th century. Additionally, the area around Plzen is known for its incredibly soft water (more on this in a moment).

The style itself has a few hallmarks: a pilsner will be pale gold in color; have a fluffy, bright white head; and have a crisp mouthfeel. To help attain this color and flavor profile, pilsners use—amongst other ingredients—very pale malted barley and incredibly soft water. (This information comes thanks to The Oxford Companion to Beer, location 22996 in the Kindle edition.)

And on that note we are brought back to the water of Plzen. What, then, is “soft water”? I had heard the terms “hard water” and “soft water” thrown around for a long time, but it took beer to educate me on their meanings: “hard” water contains high levels of minerals whereas “soft” water has very low concentrations. Ultimately, the hardness or softness of water required depends on the style—some, like pilsners, need soft water; others, though, need harder water. 

But why do pilsners require a certain kind of water at all? There are two intertwined reasons: soft water not only helps keep bitterness from becoming harsh in beer (OCB location 5793), it also supposedly lends a more delicate touch to bitterness in general (OCB location 5683). The people in Plzen probably didn’t have those reasons in mind, though—they used soft water because that was the type of water that was available, and over time soft water became an essential ingredient to and a part of the definition of a “pilsner”.

From a brewing perspective, you may not be able to get that distinctive pilsner taste without soft water. This is pure speculation on my part, though, and I am going to do a little research to see what I can find out about the broader impact of soft water on the brewing process beyond those reasons stated at the beginning of this paragraph.

One other important factor that helps shape a pilsner’s flavor profile is the type of yeast used: pilsners are fermented with lager yeast. This means that they are fermented cold and for a long time. Together, the fermentation temperature and length required for lagers creates incredibly clean tasting beer.

The “pilsner” category actually comprises two (or three, depending on your source) different styles: Czech pilsners, which tend to display floral and grassy aromas and delicate flavors, and German pilsners, which are earthier and more bitter (OCB location 23034). Wikipedia also lists a “European” pilsner as a third style in the family. In terms of the style’s name, “pilsner”, “pilsener”, and “pils” are all acceptable monikers.

One interesting tidbit before we move on. Apparently over the course of its life the pilsner style has taken the brewing world by storm and, according to The Oxford Companion to Beer, “Imitation pilsners today account for 95% of global beer volume—although most of these beers share little of the character of the original.” (location 22996)

The Tasting

With that baseline established, it’s time to drink. As I mentioned earlier, the two pilsners I tasted were Mama’s Little Yella Pils from Oskar Blues of Lyons, CO, and The Crisp from Sixpoint of Brooklyn, NY. In terms of the basic characteristics, both were spot on: pale gold color and sporting fluffy white heads.

Both also had phenomenally clean aromas. With time, though, the nuances of each came out. Whereas Mama’s Little Yella Pils had an incredibly slight aroma with hints of apple and that brought to mind, well, cleanliness, The Crisp had notes of pepper, hops, and a touch of honey. As The Crisp warmed and oxidized it also demonstrated scents of plum, grass, and sweet orange, though all of those were incredibly mild.

True to the pilsner style, each beer had a nicely crisp mouthfeel. The Crisp, though, was definitely the sharper of the two. For its part, the flavor of Mama’s was smoother, sweeter, and had less bite than The Crisp. In fact, that sweetness in Mama’s was quite bold and was paired with an almost syrupy mouthfeel. This might sound like a contradiction: a sharp and syrupy mouthfeel?!? It’s quite simple: Mama’s starts out fairly sharp on the palate and quickly becomes thicker and softer.

While both demonstrated wonderful honey flavors, those notes were stronger in Mama’s Little Yella Pils, a distinction that fits in well with that beer’s sweeter, thicker profile. Accompanying that combination of the flavor of honey with a thicker mouthfeel were hints of fruit, at times bringing to mind berries and at other times pear. Conversely, The Crisp had notes of citrus and hints of herb accompanying its honey flavors, all of which was followed by a sharp peppery aftertaste.

The Wrap

The interesting thing about these beers is that, despite being so similar in so many ways and despite coming from the same family, when it comes to the details each beer stands on its own and is wholly unique. In this respect, each also fits different moods: on a hot day I would go for The Crisp and pass over Mama’s, but on a colder day I would do the reverse.

Before I sign off, there are a couple other pilsners worth mentioning. One is Victory’s Prima Pils and another is Neumarkter Lammsbräu’s Pilsner. Both are phenomenal examples of the style, are delicious, and are worth checking out. And, of course, there is the classic: Pilsner Urquell. 

Special thanks to Brooke for the photo!

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A Whiskey Primer

On Point had an excellent program about whiskey recently. It's well worth a listen—it's a great discussion of whiskeys from around the world and the resurgence of whiskey. The best part (at 27:40) is when Tom Ashbrook smacks his lips a little while tasting a Willett Pot Still bourbon.

http://onpoint.wbur.org/2013/02/15/whiskey

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Brewery Ommegang's Duvel Rustica

A Little Background

The Tasting

By the time I got around to drinking my bottle of Duvel Rustica, I had forgotten anything Beer Advocate had written—nothing like a clean slate. Once poured, I was presented with a beautiful brownish gold brew. My first sniff brought aromas of apple, cranberry, and cinnamon. What a joy—for a winter night, these were all welcome and pleasing scents. Later on as the beer warmed up and oxidized a little honey also became present in the nose of Duvel Rustica.

As much as I loved the aroma and could have lingered on it all evening, there was a treat still waiting for me in the glass. The first sip brought delicious notes of apple and cinnamon. The mouthfeel was quite nice as well, beginning crisp but becoming soft by the time the beer reached the back of my palate. And then the aftertaste slipped in a treat—apple pie. This flavor became more apparent with my next sip, presenting the combination of apple, spice, and toast.  

Just to be clear, this was not the “pie” type of flavor that you get with pumpkin beers. Whereas the flavors in pumpkin beers are often quite prominent and strong, the flavor of apple pie is very subtle in Duvel Rustica and does not hit you in the face. Nor does it slap you or poke you; instead, Duvel Rustica gently brushes the face. There are merely hints of apples, spice, and toast that, when unified, create this other, different flavor of pie. This is not a condemnation of pumpkin beers. There are plenty of pumpkin beers that I really enjoy. Rather, I want to distinguish this beer from other beers with pie-type flavors and to clarify what kind of fruit and pie flavors come about in this beer.

Back to the tasting. Over time other wonderful flavors like brown sugar, plum, and honey became apparent. There was also a slight sourness akin to that of apples (not Granny Smith, though), further fueling those apple pie flavors. I also noticed a very mild and subtle piney-ness, which only added to the wintry and festive feeling of this beer. Later I began to notice raisin in there along with a pleasant herbalness, likely from the noble hops used in this beer. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this beer. It was a real delight to drink and can understand Beer Advocate’s highly positive rating. If you can get your hands on Duvel Rustiva while it’s in production, I recommend picking up a bottle.

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Scotty Karate from Dark Horse Brewing

A Little Background

Without consciously planning to do so, my fridge ended up filled mostly with fairly hoppy beers. This was wonderful—a lot of those beers were delicious—but after a while I needed a change of pace. I wanted something on the maltier end of the spectrum and decided to seek out a beer from the Scottish Ale family since it tends to be a maltier, less hopped variety.

Scottish Ales come in a handful of varieties and the family can be broken down generally by strength into four categories: Scottish Light Ale (60/-), Scottish Heavy (70/-), Scottish Export (80/-), and Scotch Ale aka Wee Heavy (120/-). My apologies for creating confusion with those numerical values. Here is the explanation: Scottish Ales were, at one point, also designated in terms of the price (in shillings) for a barrel, with higher prices for stronger beers. So a barrel of Scottish Light Ale was 60 shillings a long time ago, the Scottish Heavy was 70, and so on.

I went looking for anything at all from this family, and although I didn’t find any beers coming from Scotland I was pointed towards Scotty Karate Scotch Ale from Dark Horse Brewing in Grand Rapids, MI, as an excellent example of not only the Scotch Ale style but also the Scottish Ale family.

The Tasting

When I finally poured Scotty, I was greeted by an ale the color of burnt sugar: a dark, rich brown color. And then there was the aroma…oh boy, what a smell drifted up from that beautiful beer: chocolate, caramel, toffee, and toast. Based on the characteristics of this family of beers, these aromas aren’t surprising, but, wow, Scotty Karate really nails them.

My first sip brought a nice strong, malty sweetness. It wasn’t an over done sweetness and its strength was balanced by alcohol notes and a slightly bitter finish. Subsequent sips brought toffee, caramel, dark chocolate, toast, and salt. Because of the combination of salt and caramel, salted caramel also came to mind. With the exception of the dark chocolate, these flavors aren’t surprising for a Scotch Ale but, as with the aroma, they are truly delicious in this beer. In that respect, what is notable is how well those flavors are produced in Scotty Karate. In particular, the caramel flavors had a richness that was deeper than other beers I have tried. That’s not a judgment, just a qualification. These flavors were paired with a nice, thick, slightly syrupy mouthfeel that itself had a small bite to it.

Besides those standard flavors, I also came across others that I didn’t expect. Hints of apple and cookie both showed up. My second tasting the next day yielded burnt sugar, maple syrup, a slight spiciness, and even a tiny bit of pineapple.

This was a delicious beer that I thoroughly enjoyed drinking. The truth, though, is that my favorite part was its aroma. As Scotty Karate opened up the smells emanating from the beer continually evolved. As I mentioned earlier, the initial scents were of chocolate, caramel, and toffee. But with a little time the chocolate faded and the caramel and toffee became much stronger. This evolution continued with earthy notes coming in later and with chocolate making a comeback appearance. Further on, though, caramel and toffee took center stage again, but this time they had a fluffy quality, if that makes sense. By the time I was finishing Scotty Karate, the dominant aromas were chocolate and toffee. My second tasting also yielded some interesting and quite different aromas: burnt sugar, blueberry, blackberry, and strawberry all made appearances. These are all just the most basic of descriptors, though. What these words can’t impart is the dynamism of the aroma types: many scents made recurring appearances but were never quite the same upon returning. These continual changes made the beer a lot of fun and incredibly interesting. I could have almost just sniffed the beer all night without taking a sip. 

One flavor did catch me a little off guard though: soy sauce. To be clear, it was only present in the first bottle and even then it wasn’t overly powerful, but it threw me for a loop. Even so, I loved this beer and look forward to drinking it (and other Scottish Ales) again. 

[thrilltastic]

961 Beer's Lebanese Pale Ale

An odyssey of sorts

Until a few years ago, Lebanon was dominated by just a few brands of beer: Almaza (effectively the national beer of Lebanon), Heineken, and Corona. In 2006, though, the seeds of what would become the Middle East's first microbrewery—961 Beer—were planted amidst the fighting going on in Lebanon.

In 2010 I was living in Lebanon for a few months. Early on in my stay in the country I hadn’t heard about 961 and had pretty quickly become tired of the small selection of beer. But one of my cousins brought to my attention this beer called “961” (the country code for Lebanon). I searched and searched but couldn’t find it anywhere. In the end I left the country after 6 months without having the opportunity to taste this infamous 961 Beer.

The Tasting

The ingredients on a bottle of 961 Lebanese Pale Ale are listed as: water, malt, hops, yeast (no surprises so far), thyme, sumac, camomile, sage, anise, mint. Yeah, that got interesting pretty quickly—without a doubt, this is a unique set of ingredients, and this list will come back just a little bit further down. Oblivious to the contents of our Lebanese Pale Ale, my dad and I dove into the beer. The pour of the ale brought a beautiful, fluffy head and the initial aroma was hoppy and fairly malty. But it was the taste that took me by surprise: there is a strong flavor (without being overwhelming) of za’atar. 

At this point I think a small explanation is needed. Za’atar can refer either to fresh thyme or to a blend of spices found in the Middle East consisting primarily of dried thyme, sumac, and sesame seeds (the exact mix and ratio of spices changes a lot from place to place, but dried thyme is always in there), with the latter being the flavor in the Lebanese Pale Ale. Za’atar (in its dried, mixed form) has been a prominent ingredient in food throughout my life and has recently even started popping up as a chic ingredient in restaurants in the West as well. 

Including za’atar in a beer is an interesting choice and gives this beer a distinctly Middle Eastern flavor. The za’atar blends very well with a notable but not strong malty sweetness. This in particular was interesting to me because I am used to having za’atar with savory, rather than sweet, foods. The taste of this beer went through three phases: first strong on za’atar, then the malt became the prominent flavor, and finally there was a bitter finish. Unlike some American pale ales, though, the bitterness doesn’t smack you in the face. Instead, it comes in subtly towards the end and lingers a little. 

Throughout this progression, the mouthfeel is soft and a little thin, and tiny hints of the flavor of chamomile come and go. As the Lebanese Pale Ale opened up, a slight mango-ish fruitiness became apparent as well. This fruitiness brought to mind another interesting dynamic contained in this beer: za’atar with mango, let alone any fruit. 

The opening up of the ale also brought the brew’s spices into the aroma. The aroma itself also became earthier, smelling of rich, nutrient-filled soil. I mean this in a very good way: not only did I find a wonderful richness and heartiness in this particular aroma, it also brought to mind thoughts of fresh produce cared for and grown in the best earth.   

For the West

If you’ve never had za’atar before, this beer might throw you off. Even so, it’s worth a try. And if you do give it a shot, I strongly urge you to stick with it through the bottle. Also, if you live on the East Coast of the U.S. between Massachusetts and Virginia, you’re in luck: 961 will begin appearing there in January 2013. 

[thrilltastic]

Hill Farmstead Brewery's Abner

The Tasting

One of the beers that I purchased was Abner (freshly filled), Hill Farmstead’s double IPA. One quick aside, a "double" (or, alternatively, "imperial") IPA is much like a regular IPA except that it has more malt and more hops (and more alcohol too). A couple of days after the trip to the brewery, I popped open Abner and shared the bottle with my dad. We both liked this beer immensely. To start, it had this beautiful deep golden color that was accentuated and made richer by the unfiltered nature of the beer. Abner’s aroma was strong on fruit and pine with hints of earth and funk.

Our first tastes mirrored the aroma, giving us flavors of citrus and pine. Those citrus flavors included hints of orange and clementine but the taste of grapefruit was the most pronounced. There was also a wonderful juiciness in those flavors, providing added depth to the fruitiness in Abner. At the same time, Abner has a solid hop bitterness that meshes with those citrus notes, and the result is these awesome flavors of bitter citrus fruit. In this respect, the bitterness here is used for a specific purpose, it’s not just another element.

Both in the careful use of hop bitterness and the juiciness, Abner brings to mind Wormtown’s Be Hoppy (another IPA). By no means are these IPAs similar—rather, they contain similar elements. As Abner opened up it also took on some spice notes. There is also a nice fullness to the beer that rounds out and supports these flavors but without causing the beer to feel heavy. 

More from Hill Farmstead

I'm happy to say that I have a few more beers to try (George, Anna, Twilight of the Idols, Birth of Tragedy, and Arthur). Considering my experience with Abner, I’m really excited to try these other brews. 

[thrilltastic]

Roadtrip: Baltimore Brewpubs

I was in DC for a couple of weeks visiting friends and also spent Thanksgiving with my family in Virginia. While in DC, I was poking around on the Brewers Association page and found three brewpubs in Baltimore: Pratt Street Ale House, Dempsey’s Brew Pub, and The Brewer’s Art. Baltimore may have more brewpubs but these are the three I found quickly and easily. 

Right before Thanksgiving everyone was already out of town and I had a day to kill, so I figured I'd head up to Baltimore to check out the city’s brewpubs. Although both Pratt Street and Dempsey’s were solid brewpubs and are both worth a visit, The Brewer’s Art was my favorite by far.

Pratt Street Ale House

I started at Pratt Street Ale House. When you step in you get this awesome, strong aroma of wort and barley. Once at the bar, I was greeted by an impressive collection of beer—there were at least 8 beers on tap brewed by Pratt Street. If you want to do a tasting flight, you have two options: the Day Flight (with lighter beers) or the Night Flight (with, you guessed it, darker beers). I went with the Day Flight which included Pratt Street’s Blonde Ale, Ironman Pale, Irish Red, and Coventry Cream.

One brief aside before I get to my notes: I had a hard time getting an impression of the aroma of most of these beers. Either the aromas were incredibly subtle (to the point of being nearly nonexistent), or that powerful smell of wort was getting in the way. Guess that smell isn't always awesome…Lesson learned. Some brief notes (direct from my notebook) on these four:

Blonde Ale: could be a great session beer, easy to drink; like a nicer American light lager.

Ironman Pale: spicy notes similar to a pumpkin ale but toned down; sweet malty aroma without being overly strong.

Irish Red: nice creamy, slightly buttery flavor; a little smokey with hints of cinnamon.

Coventry Cream: lives up to its name in creaminess; mild but notable malty sweetness; great, even bitterness in finish and aftertaste (that isn't present in the body) that balances the sweetness and creaminess well.

At first I was leaning towards the Irish Red, but there was an oiliness in the flavor that started getting in the way. Ultimately I settled on the Ironman Pale, which the bartender told me is actually their best selling beer. 

In terms of the menu, Pratt Street’s offerings are fairly ordinary: nachos, quesadillas, burgers, etc. By no means is this meant as a knock on Pratt Street—I was there for beer and food was only a secondary consideration. I only point this out to give a fuller picture of Pratt Street. It is a brewpub after all. Nevertheless, I had their quesadilla and was incredibly happy: it was toasty and cheesy. Next stop: Dempsey’s.

Dempsey’s

I had no idea what kind of distance stood between Pratt Street and Dempsey’s, so I pulled it up on my phone. I was pleasantly surprised to see that Dempsey’s is only 3-4 blocks from Pratt Street Ale House. Dempsey’s is itself located in Oriole Park at Camden Yards, which provides an awesome setting for a meal or a beer.

Rookie mistake on my part: when I arrived I chose the side of the bar that faces out towards the street, rather than the side that faces the park. The bar itself is very new and modern so no complaints on facing the street, but it would have been even better to look out on the park (one of the better ball parks that I’ve been to) while drinking my beer. Baseball season was long over when I went to Dempsey’s and there was something cool but eery about being in an empty ballpark. It turned out, in fact, that Dempsey’s only recently decided to stay open during the offseason.

As with Pratt Street, I had the option to do a tasting flight. Dempsey’s has four core beers and those were all included in the flight. These were: Yardbird Summer Wheat, Rick’s Red Ale, ’83 Golden Ale, and Rain Delay IPA.

Before I get to the beers, I need to say that I think something was off, either with the beers or the tap lines. Three of the four beers had a strong fennel/anise flavor to them. With this in mind, my notes are minimal (especially when you take out the references to vegetal/fennel/anise flavors). I’d like to give Dempsey’s another try (maybe even on a game day) since I imagine this wasn’t their best showing.

Yardbird Summer Wheat: slight maltiness combines interestingly with that licorice/anise flavor (sorry, it couldn’t be avoided on this one).

Rick’s Red Ale: wonderful deep amber color, aftertaste of herbal tea.

’83 Golden Ale: a little toasty and warm; malty at the end.

Rain Delay IPA: this is the brew that didn’t have that anise/fennel flavor; a little juicy, nice fruity hoppiness; less hoppy, though, and more bitter in terms of the flavor.

Despite the overriding licorice/anise flavor in these beers, Dempsey’s is worth another shot: the service was great (though there were only one or two other parties there when I made my visit), the location can’t be beat, and this may have just been an off-day for them. In general, they seemed to have a fairly standard bar menu like Pratt Street. With my visit to Dempsey's complete, it was time to move on to The Brewer’s Art.

The Brewer’s Art

The Brewer’s Art is in a renovated town home, beautifully decorated without being lavish. There’s a bar area with a handful of stools at the bar itself plus some other tables. (There is also a downstairs bar, but I didn’t have a chance to check it out.) In the back sits the full dining room. And in between the bar area and the dining room is an area with more of a lounge feel to it, mostly due to the comfy chairs and the dim light. The bar area was full, so I wandered to this lounge area, grabbed a table in a corner, and kicked back.

As with Dempsey’s and Pratt Street, a tasting flight was available, though The Brewer's Art gives six beers in their flight. Here are the six included in my flight: Ozzy, Resurrection, Stalking Horse, The Sun Roi, St. Festivus, and Zodiac Ale. The full house lineup is much longer, though I’m unsure of what else—if anything—was on tap when I visited. Here are some notes:

Ozzy: a beautiful bourbon-y caramel color; a nice roasty aroma with floral hints; as Ozzy opened up, the aroma became more fruity, sugary, and juicy with hints of hops and raisins; nice malty sweetness with a faint bitter aftertaste that, after building, becomes peppery; soft, cotton-candy mouthfeel.

Resurrection: hints of chocolate in the aroma; also smokey hints, but a very specific kind of smokey—like what a room smells like after a fire has burned in the fireplace all day; a beautiful dark, dark, dark brown color; toasty and sweet flavor with a slightly bitter finish; soft mouthfeel with some hints of sharpness to it.

Stalking Horse: slight floral aroma, but not like other brews—actually has a touch of fresh flowers; has a flavor of licorice (properly!) that is supported by a smooth, soft, sweet malt flavor and a slight spiciness; as Stalking Horse opened up, the flavor took on hints of orange and raisin; candy sweet and fairly heavy flavor, which was surprising (SH clocked in at 5.6% ABV).

The Sun Roi: has a toasty, chocolatey, coffee-scented aroma like some porters or stouts, but in a milder way and with a dark brown (rather than black) color; flavors of coffee and...popcorn, not popcorn butter and not butter flavor in general—simply popcorn proper (nutty, toasty and flavored like corn that has been, well, popped); incredibly soft and light for the alcohol content (10.1%).

St. Festivus: slightly sugary and marshmallow-y aroma, but mild in both respects; the body has a nice malty sweetness that is balanced and contrasted by a mild to medium tartness (nowhere near a sour beer, though); after opening up a little bit both the body and aroma had hints of grapefruit and the flavor took on an ever-so-slight creaminess; don’t be fooled by the ABV—this is a session beer in alcohol content, but the flavor is rich and robust enough that you may not want to make this your session beer.

Zodiac Ale: Zodiac was very easy and very drinkable; a little earthy and grassy with a hoppy herbalness to finish; you can taste the boiling wort in the finish (in a good way); overall, incredibly smooth and a little creamy; as Zodiac opened up, took on a slightly perfumey aroma.

The menu at The Brewer’s Art is also impressive. Here are some examples from the entree menu (though I didn’t actually try any of these):

Duck Fat Poached Monkfish Osso Bucco with Salted Chocolate Ganache, Orange Glazed Turnips, Foie Gras Liaison (A “Foie Gras Liaison”? What is a “Foie Gras Liaison”?)

Proletary Braised Domestic Lamb Shoulder with Pumpernickel Gnocchi, Sour Red Cabbage Coulis, Celeriac Remoulade, Braising Reduction

Golumpkies with Mushroom and Rice Stuffed Savoy Cabbage, Roasted Tomato Jus, Housemade Crème Fraîche

There were also a few notable items from the appetizers/light fare menu:

Housemade Charcuterie Platter with Daily Selection of Three Housemade Items, Assorted Pickles and Mustards 

Magret Duck Prosciutto with Gem Lettuce, Pickled Strawberries, Cherry Glen Goat Cheese, Balsamic Reduction

Brewer's Art Sailor: House Corned Beef, Knackwurst, Baby Swiss, Black Garlic Mustard, Rye, and served with Rosemary Garlic Fries

They also had their version of a chili dog. They don’t have a description online but I tried it and it was awesome.

Besides the chili dog, I also had their charcuterie plate which featured chicken liver pate “creme brûlée”, house made bresaola, and another cured meat that I’m blanking on (though it was delicious). Needless to say, I was in heaven.

A few notes on The Brewer’s Art: they don’t open until 4pm; they’re only about four blocks from Baltimore’s Penn Station, so if you’re coming up from DC it’s just a tiny bit of extra travel; I’m unsure of BA’s distribution, though I definitely saw Ozzy at a liquor store in DC (Sherry’s in Woodley Park). On that second point: when I’m in DC, I rarely go to Baltimore. That being said, between the proximity to the train station and the outstanding beers and food at The Brewer’s Art, the hassle of getting to Baltimore is well worth it and I would make a special trip just for The Brewer’s Art.