Hip Hops: March 2007 Archives

Lagunitas Lucky 13

Slipping this beer into a pint glass sounded a lot like two-inch fingernails — painted precisely a deep crimson red — clicking on a car door. It felt like wind and someone nibbling our ears. Half a bottle got us buzzed like we can only imagine you get when removing miniscule black underwear from a girl with hoop earrings and a femme pompadour. In a word: lucky. We wonder if that's what the people at Lagunitas were shooting for with this, their 13th anniversary copper brew. The word "lucky" seems fitting for another reason. Because even though the brewery is often hailed as a No-Cal up-and-comer, Lagunitas remains a hit-and-miss brand. We love some of their beers (Maximus, Number 9) can't drink others (Cappuccino Stout, Brown Shugga). This high-octane amber is a step above — or a stroke of luck — but either way it embodies what the company does well. A wispy head gives way to a Labrador red liquid. It is both exceptionally hoppy and sweetly bitter at first taste, before giving way to an almost metallic burnt caramel. Being a middle-of-your-mouth kind of beer the tastes come in waves: a tease and a door slammed in your face. The last note of every sip, however, is so fucking sweet.

Dairy Pairy: Alsatian Munster
Soundtrack: Sonic Youth's Goo

The bottle of this one says it all: There’s the ice-capped mountains, amber waves of grain and pretty plains of Anderson Valley depicted in all their glory — and right there in the middle of this splendor, is Brother David with his sick, furry mustache and his favorite death-metal monk hood. (Brother David also looks suspiciously like the mid-90s cab-driving spokesman for MTV.) The point is this Abbey-style dark ale is unique in a way that takes some getting used to — it’s not how you might have made it, and it kinda sticks out — but it touches you nevertheless. Your first moments with this beer are filled with anxious puzzlement. The first note is heavy banana and clove, almost like a heffeweisen. But the sweetness sticks around, getting almost pruney and deliciously bread-like. The booze is there (it’s 9% ABV after all) but its balance is surprising. The carbonation is restrained which makes for a slow-dissolving head that froths around with a translucent sugar sheen. Like a geek in a Megadeth T-shirt who picks his nose and tries to wipe it on the seat of the bus, this Belgian is unpredictable and yet familiar. It’s a niche beer and it’s lovable. But like that same geek, you don’t necessarily wanna spend all night him. The Black Album gets old after a while.

Dairy Pairy: Beaufort de Savoie
Soundtrack: Animal Collective’s Feels

We at Hot Knives anticipate each one of Stone Brewery’s seasonal releases like a high schooler with a joint in their pocket anticipates the final minutes of algebra II. Just when we are getting over the bummer of the end the previous special release (we miss you already Double Bastard) a new conception of an old favorite hits the shelves. This review is late in coming, as the official release date for Stone’s 2007 Old Guardian Barley Wine was January 22nd, but you’ll be able to swill this beauty for another month…hopefully.

One more gush about our personal lords and saviors in Escondido before the homage d’brew. What makes Stone’s seasonals so fucking radical is that each year they make the same seasonal special releases, but they never taste the same. Yes Stone does make insane brews that deviate from the pre-ordained pageant of beauty like oak aged or dry hopped versions of their usual gang of five, or just something maniacal that never leaves Escondido, but you’ll never see this brewery crank out some silly concept beer that they’ll never make again and call it a special release. No “special” raspberry cappuccino porters, and certainly no “imperial” lagers or pilsners.

Old Guardian is a beer you can really hang out with on your porch. This year’s model, weighing in at 11.26%, requires some attentive time and a small glass. The flavor this year is much more pronounced than ’06, and the finish is long and joyous. The gargantuan malt and hop aromas meet in your mouth like some kind of epic battle between beer brute squads. The finish is surprisingly soft considering the initial intensity of the mash melee: strong notes of alcohol give way to vivid strawberry and mulling spice flavors.

We could drink this all year. We wish we could.

Dairy Pairy: Blues. French Blues (Roquefort, Blue D’Auvergne, Fourme D’Ambert etc.).
Soundtrack: The Make Up After Dark

As a wise man once said, “When in Rogue, do as the Rogue do.” This is old proverb speak for “Northwest breweries should stick with the badass bitter beers they are known for.” Just look at Rogue Breweries’ OG flagship brews Shakespeare Stout, Brutal Bitter and Old Crustacean, all of them harsh, complex and consistently on point. But with their newest concoction, Monk Madness, the preeminent Oregon tastemakers at Rogue have continued to stray from their roots to unimpressive results. Right now, every American brewer and his mother seems to think it’s his right, or obligation, to try his hand at a Belgian-style ale. The results can be disastrous for one simple reason: Belgian ales, even the strongest of the bunch, have a subtlety and traditional pureness to them that the American ruffian brewer can’t recreate. Rogue’s tribute to the Belgian ale, for instance, hinges on five varieties of malts and five different hops — an ambitious recipe on paper that damn well goes too far. The deep velour and rippley brown color is off-putting, the sour bite of it is upsetting. Everything about the burnt caramel hop flavor and slightly hopped-up, nutty booziness screams identity crises, like an American playboy vacationing in an ancient monastery but without the basic decency to learn Flemish. The fact is, Rogue’s ever expanding list of beers seems more and more like an excursion from what they are known for, and what they do best.

Dairy Pairy: Smoked Gouda
Soundtrack: The Dandy Warhols’ Come Down