Hip Hops: June 2008 Archives

It's unofficially the doldrums of summer, when things like job performance and precise maneuverings of time and space take back seat to the more important goals of porch sitting and pool seeking. And coming in a close third - cold beer sipping. Traditionally this activity should be done from an icy, sweating can.

Alas, it's been nearly half a decade since either of us drank beer from cans on any regular basis. That was when a beer run for Olympia was the closest thing to a summer vacation we had and we swigged enough Tecate to build a 1-story pyramid out of Tecate cans in the backyard. But a couple years ago when we got deep in good beer, that swill no longer sufficed, so we said 'goodbye aluminum' and 'hello 750 ml bottle.' We didn't look back either. But when one of our local liquor stores started carrying beers from Colorado's Oskar Blues, the only craft beer brewery we know that cans their beers, we realized we deeply missed the experience of closing our lips around the cool, tinny mouth of a beer can. Suddenly it seemed like such a simple summer pleasure we had been missing out on. So we bought a six-pack of the brewery's flagship brew, Dale's Pale Ale, and "porched it."

Now, for drinkers accustomed to pouring bottled beers into proper glassware, the act of simply cracking a can and tilting it in the direction of one's face can be startling, even disturbing or liberating. Thankfully, the beer locked inside immediately registers as bitter, hop-intense and floral. We've seen some pool-goers nearly choke because they were expecting the watery feel of High Life. Dale's Pale is close to an Anchor Steam ale, hoppy but not an IPA; stingy but not quite an ESB. There's very little head, obviously, otherwise it'd foam out the top of your can, and a soda-like spritzing of bubbles that congregate nicely on the rim of the can after a couple sips. When it does, you'll notice a gentle reddish blonde hue in the beer, unimaginable compared to most fizzy yellow cans. But don't get too curious, that's half the can's mystique. And definitely don't make the stubborn mistake of pouring Dale's into a glass; it's not the same. You are paying for the experience of cold metal in your hand.

Dairy Pairy: Fiscalini's raw milk bandage-wrapped cheddar
Soundtrack: Black Sabbath's "Iron Man"

Like in other walks of life, the young beer punk can be an insufferably snobby dolt, who swears by the harshest beers and flicks off more moderate brews. We know because that was us - still is, kinda.

As underage beer geeks, we gave Ommegang ales like Hennepin the brush off. Back then the means of production for our livers' stunting was, well, stunted. We would do a fly-by perusal of the beer aisles at known haunts of strong ale, and then spend a good couple of hours lurking in the parking lot chain smoking and hunting for a willing, trustworthy shoulder to tap for help. We had to drink whatever we could get out of stores like Jubilation Spirits, but when our second-hand buyer returned with Saison it felt like a waste of time. We wanted hops, tons of malts, and booze percentages that surpassed ten. We wanted something that tasted like the long wait; we wanted obliterators of our taste buds, dullers of our teenage minds...

A decade later our taste buds have grown sharper and our denial of the delicate and yeasty has faded with our love of drinking in a gutter. Punk rock or not, there's something undeniably wise about exploring the less in-your-face beers to find ones that pass muster. Some with history and soul have already won us over. But American takes on tradition are a harder sell.

In the case of Hennepin - Ommegang Brewery's tribute to Father Louis Hennepin, the Belgian explorer who found Niagara Falls, we respectfully acknowledge that we may have been a little brazen, even brash. The stuff is simple and subtle, yes, but pretty damn tasteful. Impressive foamy head falls out of this 750ml bottle like a steady pummel of white water rapids. As if stuck in an undercurrent, the asterisk-shaped yeast pebbles float suspended in your glass. Hoppier than we remember, this 7.5 % ABV brew also packs a clean, sugar-free dessert bent, like a not-so-spicy ginger snap lemon bar. Less strong than we'd prefer, but perfect for fun, foamy beer mustaches at barbecues, Hennepin falls safely in the 'Suds We Like to Chug' category.
(Beer goggles by Molly)

Dairy Pairy: Banon (de Chalais), a leaf wrapped, brandy dipped, cow's milk.
Soundtrack: The Ramone's Blitzkrieg Bop

As we understand it, the tendency for Belgian beers to have Satanic names is something of a tradition. Amidst the aftermath of a 1919 no spirits in pubs law, brewing the liquid gold was brought out of the barns of Abbeys and into the realm of the secular. Perhaps to poke fun at the fathers of suds (you know, Monks), many brewers gave their golden ales names that bespoke he that is called One: Duvel (means devil), Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer, etc. These beers were meant to fulfill the true and timeless creed of quality ale: they never fill you up and rarely let you down. Spicy, dry, and strong enough to steer you or your drinking partner towards doing the devil's business, strong golden ales pray on the playful side of Satan.

Lost Abbey's Inferno Ale stands in direct line to the transmission of Satanic dubbed beers that are more mellow than mean. Out of the bottle this Belgian Strong Pale style brew is fluffy and light, with a murky golden hue that leans towards the likes of North Coast's Prankster, or the hazy yeast peppered Kwak. The head bespeaks not the bubblings of Beelzebub's caldron, but the overflow from a kindergartner's post-nap bath: soapy bubbles piled on cappuccino like espuma. The mouth feel is light, the flavor mild. Rather than a progression of flavors and texture, Inferno captivates the tongue with a long steady note from first swill to after the swallow. While this is not a force-you-to-sip-it-slowly-with-friends ale, a la Avery's The Beast, this devil brew makes for a great food beer, complimenting grains and charred things especially well. A yeasty beer to be sure, Satan's spores have a soft savory ness to them that balances the sweetness of an 8.5% abv. Way less serious than the label implies, this is not some taste bud torturer: the Dark Lord likes to party!

Dairy Pairy: Gorwydd Caerphilly--an unpasteurised Welsh cow's milk cheese.
Soundtrack: Satan's Pilgrims' Que Honda!