Hip Hops: October 2007 Archives

Sometimes it feels like we drink nothing but west coast triple IPAs and 750 ml Belgians, doesn’t it? It’s not far from the truth cuz when you’re home cooks and non-paid beer bloggers you tend to gravitate toward what you know you’ll like. One area where we’ve felt particularly deficient is German, and German-style, brews. We’ve definitely discussed the need to get deeper into Deutsche technique — maybe by sipping some warm mai bocks in the back of a black and chrome Audi pumping Kraftwerk or something.

In any case, it’s not that we’re ignorant about German beer — we’ve both traveled there, one of us lived there, we have tasted fresh-out-of-the-tap hefeweizen — we just aren’t nuts for the style. Mediocre, over-malted bland stuff, lots of it anyway. Of course, there’s Spaten Optimator, which is more than pub-worthy, and the bock inspired heavy ales from Avery are some of America’s contributions. Craftsman’s rauch biere (smoked lager) too holds a large part of out hearts. But for the most part, we’ve long wondered why the so-called land of beers seems so unimaginative. Maybe it’s cuz the German mindset demands such traditional precision that any sort of loosey goosey experimentation gets the shaft. Just look at the whole Reinheitsgebot thing (German purity laws on the books since 1516), that are always proudly touted on German beers. That law, of course, dictated that nothing but water, malt and hops could be used to brew beer. Sounds ok right, but there’s no mention of yeast (it hadn’t been discovered yet!). Reason enough to amend the silly thing, or throw it out entirely.

The point is, we’re always looking to challenge our theory, so when we recently spotted a couple staunch black bombers of German-style beers we’d never seen at our local one-stop shop (Galco’s) we sprung for it hoping to get turned on. One was a black Bavarian lager, the other a doppelbock. Doesn’t get more German than that.

The brewery is actually an 80s upstart microbrewery in Wisconsin called Sprecher, started by a former Pabst head brew master who got the itch to brew something more wicked. And the bottle aesthetic is intense: simple and clean, gothic and low budget. To be honest, we got giddy because we thought maybe we had stumbled on some kind of hardcore bathtub beer made by Midwesterner wild men — like the nutso noise band Wolf Eyes only for beer. That comparison was quickly smashed, less screechy basement-performance cassette release and more like mid-career Iron Maiden or early head bangers from Megadeath. Both beers were dark, randy and completely straight forward. Just edgy enough to taste great, but not enough to be considered anything better than standard.

The doppelbock was appropriately malty, well-rounded, sweet and roasty, while a little weak. Nose and mouth both gave off a fresh cracked hazelnut vibe. The head even had a bit of burnt orange rust. We could have let it sit a little longer in the autumn sun to be honest, it almost begged to be consumed at a warmer temperature. All in all, a welcome exchange for the typical Oktoberfest shod.

The Bavarian black lager was a different story, while not a seasonal or a special release it had something special going for it. First off the pour is darker than a succubus rounding second base and blacker than most Danzig album covers. The foam was a perfect mahogany-color, giving it the same glimmer of wood and vinyl you see on a custom-made vintage amp. Also, the stuff went down well cold, almost medicinally elemental, there was only one real taste: black bread malt with a hint of booze, nothing else. According to the bottle, it’s a riff on the black lagers that were created as bread water meant to sustain monks through lent. It’s not what we’d call interesting exactly and it’s certainly not complex, but it is pure and clean. One thing’s for sure, if we ever attempt a vegan version of the liver layered lard spread that German castles serve instead of butter, this will be the pairing. All in all, drinking it felt like a validation of what we think about most German-style beer: that it’s precision is its greatest virtue even though it can get boxed in by its tradition. That said, we absolutely owe Germany another visit.

Dairy Pairy: Epoisses, cow's milk washed with Marc de Bourgogne.
Soundtrack: Wolf Eyes’ Burned Mind

The anniversaries of many of our favorite breweries mark our calendars with exclamation points and smiley faces. There are some annual milestones that sneak up on us in wonderful ways. Finding the latest special release from Unibroue par example always makes us smile collectively, whereas the yearly release of Hopsickle (equivocally as the birthday celebration of Moyans might someday be…) makes us start towards beer coolers with gimmie-gimmie eyes and accompanying yelps of glee.

Stone’s birthday is something that we relish in almost as dearly as that of a bff-type cousin, or a super cool uncle who used to sneak us sips of scotch when we were eleven. Even if its been almost a year since we played hooky from work and made our first pilgrimage to Escondido, we exchanged hurried gushes of delight at the first tastes of this year’s liquid notch on the proverbial gun. We’ve drunk five bombers of this brew since its recent release in both social circles and isolated tasting during varied hours of the day and night. We experienced this nectar o’grain in every conceivable position we utilize for our fermented contemplations. The results have been positive.

As the froth subsided, this Black IPA immediately impressed us. The color, a brown muted true black lulls the drinker into reminiscences of a first Kostritzer, or a dressed up Bock that seemed all the rage in 2006. The second this beer strikes chords with your nervous system, the world changes. Utter harmony explodes out of what a local comrade calls the “Ruined Bastard.” The heavy handed alcohol and deep dark malts teleport you to a surreal plane where rows of giant headed Greg Kochs hand out glass after glass of black ale garnished with a fistful of fresh hops and soy sauce flowers. You wipe the fragrant resin off your nose, and ask short breathed where the hell you are. The multitude of grinning Esconditans echoes back: the future.

Dairy Pairy: Idiazabal, a smoked raw sheeps milk from northern Spain.
Soundtrack: The Clash, “In Hammersmith Palais”

On our one and only pilgrimage to Belmont station in the old town of “P,” we serendipitously stumbled upon a guided lecture by the head of the import department for one of the bet and brightest beer distributors in the country. While not every ale in the line up was mind blowing, the overall aesthetic of Shelton Brothers reads like a manifesto. Not only does this distro exclusively support the likes of De Ranke, the after hours brewers of XX, but they have a policy of only importing beers from brewers who produce less than a certain amount per year.

The kid tested mother approved ale we sampled in the video above, was a collaboration between two heavy weight of small batch brewing: Port Brewing co and De Proef Brewerij. The ales of Port have graced this blog both as subjects of loving reviews, and as the backdrop to our trip to Stone Brewing Co. last year. After our tour of duty with the Stone Executive Chef Carlton, we headed over to pizza port where we drank four different IPAs, ate awesome pizza, and watched the Stone Staff do the same.

De Proef is a slightly more obscure, but no less reputable source of prime sauce. Its captain is Dirk Naudts, nicknamed “the Professor.” Naudts is like the Baby Bob Dylan of Belgian beer: not only is he literally one of the most regarded brewers the world over for his specific work via his small batch brewery, but he also designs ales for bigger Belgian and Dutch breweries. Unfortunately we couldn’t find the names the of the unofficial fruits of his fermented loins...

This ale screams of specificity. On one side of a veritable phalanx of flavor you have the Professor, rocking different fermentation techniques that most Americans can ‘t name. Brilliantly subtle yeast flavors and alcohol notes yield an utterly pleasant, but deeply complex flavor. Its goal is to absolutely trick you out of the hop bouquet you encounter upon first swirl…

Spectacular lacing like some kind of dissolving foam mountain left in the wake of Venus herself: Kronos’ castration causing copulation convulsions.

Cloudy golden, like the first time we poured a prankster: density that makes basic vision impossible but a color that emanates light, like an inverted stout. The sweet aroma made the few lingering fruit flies in echo park drift to their deaths in smallish puddles of faded glory.

What about the hops? The age-old battle between any brew snob’s favorite styles, West Coast IPA and Belgian Glory, lock arms mid killing field and spin of in some unholy but oh-so-right maypole celebration of all things wonderful. The depth of Naudts’ yeast strains and strange fermentation is not lost on the powerful and crisp hop barrage that follows. Every descriptor in the beer aficionado’s lexicon comes to mind. Words can describe it, but they wouldn’t do it justly.

Ultimately both fronts flank everything else and leave the drinker refreshed, slain, totally immersed in the frankness of the thought that 750 ml of beer can be priced at $13.99…and worth every cent.

Dairy Pairy: Valencay Affine. An aged goat cheese, shaped like a truncated pyramid.
Soundtrack: Fela Kuti "Confusion/Gentleman"