Massage Ale

We were reminded how much we believe in getting to know your local beer-monger this week when we came home from shopping with a cardboard box of beer and this bottle of 13th Century Grut on top for tasting. We tend to think of that client-customer relationship much like that of Vincent Vega and his robe-wearing heroin dealer in Pulp Fiction who breaks out three baggies of increasingly hot junk, including the best shit from the “mountains of Germany” that he pulls from his personal stash. This “gruit” beer brewed by Brauerei Weihenstephan, Germany’s self-proclaimed ‘oldest brewery in the world,’ is like that best baggie of dope. A stress-kicking seasonal syrup perfect for battling the Santa Anas of an L.A. fall.
Based on ancient brewing know-how dating back to continental Europe during the Middle Ages, gruit is essentially herbal beer that’s brewed with plants or berries to enhance the aroma and taste — think beer’s version of infused teas. The stuff was also supposed to enhance the drinker’s sex drive and was believed by the early Scots and Germans to be a potent aphrodisiac. More recently, beer tweakers have turned to herbal gruits for its sacred healing qualities.
We don’t know about all that exactly. But we do know what immediately occurred to both of us when we tasted this beer: we exhaled deep, dropped one proverbial stress notch and both envisioned we were peeling back the purple curtains of our favorite Thai massage parlor, where we (separately) get monthly rub-downs. These massages are forceful, brutal even — with lots of elbows, knees and feet used to break up sore muscles — but insanely relaxing. And at the end, the ladies unleash their fiery fists on your back and slather it with slick, minty ointments. That’s what we both conjured, swear, like we were drinking in a massage. The first slurp note is foamy, effervescent, not unlike a crisp Witte beer. Not a hint of bitterness in this stuff, either, which seems amazing for herb-infused elixirs. By mid-mouth, the liquid is immediately a flavor explosion of all sorts of wild aromatics: ginger and grain, followed by an immense ring tone of wild rosemary. But the topper was the after taste: herbal, menthol-y, it was exactly like that ending ointment. Our endorphins went limp with pleasure.
And if Mr. Macy, our beer-monger had been sitting there with us, we fear we just might have reached for our wallets for his masseuse tip.
Dairy Pairy: Condio, herb-encrusted goat and cow’s milk
Soundtrack: Erik Satie’s “Gymnopédies”