Stuff-ash with Cran-Beer Sauce

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We prefer to roll deep when it comes to Thanksgiving menus. Mash and roasted root vegetables? No problem. Two different batches of stuffing? Why not? Seitan meatloaf wrapped in seitan bacon… sure, we’ve considered it. In fact, it is rare to find an inch of empty space on our table. Which is cool of course, except that coming up with hot, new shit every year starts to get puzzling! We do, however, realize that some people are less obsessive and, yes, gluttonous, than us. And for those people, we give you one dish to rule them all – one that boasts the four cornerstones of an all-American Thanksgiving meal all on the same plate: mash, stuffing, root vegetables and cranberry sauce. We even threw beer in there for good measure.
Mashed potatoes, even done perfectly, is an admitted snoozer. We whipped parsnips with garlic oil and almond butter instead and folded a sage-kissed mirepoix into the mash for the crunch of stuffing. Finally, scoops of this two-headed comfort-food beast got dressed with thick drizzles of a cranberry coulis — reduced with cherry beer. We used a cheap middle-of -the-road kriek: Kasteel Rouge. It’s sweet and clean, and very cherry. If you’re feeling spendy, any kriek-style beer would do: think Three Philosophers on the dark end, Rodenbach on the ‘sour red’ side.
All in all, not a bad substitution for the Hungry Man TV dinner!

Cranberry-Kriek Coulis

2 cups kriek-style beer
1 cup water
1/2 cup agave nectar
2 cups fresh cranberries
1 tsp. sea salt
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1. Empty your beer into a medium-sized pot. Add water and agave and stir. Put pot on medium heat until it reaches a rolling boil. Then drop in the cranberries and let cook for about 25 minutes, or until most of the berries have popped and liquid has reduced by an inch.
2. Remove cranberries from the heat and pulse with a blender so you have a thoroughly puréed mixture. Using a fine colander, strain the sauce into a mixing bowl to remove any bits and pieces of berries.
3. Add the salt; this will help eek out the flavor of both the beer and the cranberries. Return the mixture back to your pot and heat for another 5 minutes. Remove and cool for one hour before using.


Root Whip Stuffing

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1 head garlic, peeled
1/4 cup olive oil
5-6 parsnips
2 medium potatoes
2 medium carrots
1/2 white onion
2 stalks celery
1 tsp dried sage
Salt and pepper
1/4 cup soymilk “creamer” (or plain soy milk)
2 Tbs. almond butter
1. Make a garlic confit for garnish, and in the process garlic oil for sautéing. Place whole garlic cloves and olive oil in a small saucepot on low heat and let it cook for close to 20 minutes or until the cloves are browning at the edges, just short of being crisped. Remove the pan from heat and separate garlic from the oil and set both aside.
2. Chop your parsnips into rough 2-inch chunks. Chop the potato the same way. Fill a large pot with salted water, add the parsnips and potatoes and set to boil.
3. While your pot o’veg heats, prepare a mirepoix by finely chopping the carrot, onion, and celery. Toss that in a large pan on medium heat with one-fourth of the garlic oil. Add sage, salt and pepper. Saute for 8-10 minutes and keep warm until the last step.
4. In a small saucepan, heat your soymilk creamer only until it is warm. Add almond butter and whisk. Set aside.
5. Once the water boils in your parsnip-potato pot, continue to boil for another five minutes, then strain the vegetables in the sink.
6. In a large bowl, dump your strained veggies and set upon it with a masher. Mash by hand, adding garlic oil as you go. Once there are no awkward chunks or strands, add the soymilk-almond butter mix. Keep mashing. When you get a mostly smooth consistency add the mirepoix and stir well. Season to taste with salt if needed. Serve with an ice cream scoop and garnish with swirls of cranberry coulis and confited garlic clove on top.
Soundtrack: Thanksgiving’s Welcome Nowhere
Beverage: Rodenbach Grand Cru

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Stone… Again!

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It’s been two and a half years now, since we first played hooky from jobs and hightailed it south on the I-5 to tour the still-squeaky-new brewery and bistro at Stone Brewing in Escondido. That was our man-cation in the vein of the movie “Sideways” but not winey. It was the same month we had made beer ice cream using their chocolate stout and barleywine, so the head chef, Carlton, was kind enough to give us a guided walk-through of their massive kitchen. When we finished at the gift shop bar, all we could think about was coming back when the restaurant was actually open for business.
Well, that sure came and went! Some 24 months after they opened, Evan finally had a reason to be near San Diego this week, so on a lunch break he slipped down Ciccada Parkway for a swig of tap beer and a nibble of the vegetarian pub grub they sling at the 300-seat outdoor bistro. So how’d the joint fare after such massive build-up?

Walking into this brewery is like seeing the future, or another dimension – one where rickety sets of bridge-playing grandparents take leisurely lunches at their local hard-ass brewing establishment. On a Tuesday late afternoon, country club ladies were daintily toasting stems of sour lambics and POW MIA grandpas were shuffling to the bathroom between sips of 10% ABV stouts. All the while, the brewery hands, mostly crusty SoCal punks with beer bomber tattoos and rastah-Jah soldiers, took their “lunch break” of double-oaked Arrogant Bastard. In fact, it’s a wonder these sleepy San Diego septogenarians can even decipher the beer-dude-ese of Stone’s written menu — one that boasts no fewer than ten dishes concocted with copious amounts of real, good beer and that waxes poetic about things like smoked porter barbeque sauce with trigger-happy exclamation points. Whoever writes the text for Stone’s beer bottles was clearly tapped for their food writing.
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One more pleasant surprise that borders on “WTF-am-I?: More than half the menu is vegetarian with a smattering of vegan options (pale ale Brussels sprouts, roasted pepper and thyme tofu burgers, housemade kimchi with “doom sauce,” tempeh shepard’s pie). Come to think of it, two years ago when we first toured the ground with food honcho Carlton, he seemed amused at our own blog videos of us injecting beet “blood” into tofu slabs and rolling fake meat into roulade. We got the distinct impression he though we were wusses, actually. But in the meantime not only has Stone played with their own food vlogging, the menu is concrete evidence of vegetarian life on Planet Beer. We approve.
Evan showed his approval by personally scarfing a plate of “Buds Spuds,” which are fluffy balls of garlic-scallion mashed potatoes dipped in Arrogant Bastard beer batter and deep fried until they develop a thick funnel-cake dough skin. A dish that skirts the line between decadent and disturbing. It paired safely with a Deschutes Hop Trip Fresh ale, though the second round ruled harder — a Ballast Point Piper Down bourbon ale. Next came lunch — a homemade tempeh burger of pillowy fermented grains mixed with curlicue strands of red and green jalapenos. No 3pm lunch is complete without liquid desert, in this case it was a black and bubbly Ten-Fiddy stout from Oskar Blues.
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Not one to miss the chance to snap beer porn on location, we actually toted the beer over to a large granite slab in the bistro’s garden, posed it caringly with the beer menu and leaned in for the shot. Just then Stone CEO and co-founder Greg Koch strolled by and shouted out “Hey, that looks like a great shot!” Yes, yes it was.

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Mr. Sparkle

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Fusion cuisine usually results in strong feelings. Ours tends toward an itch to retch. Savagely gimmicky places like Thaitalian (both have noodles!) utilize the conciliatory application of different ethnic ingredients and technique frankly make us want to barf. On the other side, a happier, less pukey place, there are solid reinterpretations of one country’s food with another culture’s ingredients and the results can sometimes be blissfully mind blowing. But one certainly is elemental in the%

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Weekend At Beany’s

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The cooling final months of this intense and triumphant 2008 necessitate warm and hearty sustenance. In these tired economic times, one cheap and awesome go-to is always the bean and for us vegetarians the myriad mini legumes that make up the bean family-tree work double time to keep us going. Thing is, cooking dry beans seems to be something that nobody really does. Unfortunately for both the human and the human bean, the time commitment required usually keeps dry beans in the dark, in your cupboard, neglected and forgotten.
This recipe is time consuming but really folks, there are few things more pleasurable than taking a few hours to make a bitchin’ stew. Before your sweet drunken head hits your pillow on Friday, take 15 minutes to soak your beans, and you’ll either have an awesome spread to share with your near and dear on Saturday night, or a bucket of lunch for all of next week.
Day 1:
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1/4 cup of six types of beans, we used…
Anasazi
Black Calypso
Jacob’s Cattle
Scarlet Runner
Rice Beans
Tongues of Fire
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Day 2:
2 Tbs. XV olive oil
2 large white onions, diced
2 leeks, diced
2 medium sized red potatoes, diced
1 yam, diced
7 cloves of garlic, diced
7 white chilies, diced
1/4 cup cheap sherry
1 Tsp. ground white pepper
1 Tsp. ground black pepper
1 Tsp. ground coriander
1 Tsp. ground cumin
2 Tsp. Porcini powder
2 Tsp. Smoked salt
Additional salt to taste
1/4 large cabbage
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1. In a large pot or bowl, combine all the beans and cover with at least twice as much water and let soak overnight. If you use Scarlet Runners or any other larger bean, soak them separately. You’ll want to cook them for an additional 30 minutes before adding the rest of the beans; their size makes them have a longer cooking time.
2. The next day, pick through your beans for any floaters (they may be duds) and small rocks (they can be a bummer). Rinse them of their day-old water and put them in a large pot with, again, at least twice as much water as beans. Salt the water and bring to a boil.
3. Hold the boil for ten minutes, and then reduce to a bubbling simmer. Set a timer for 30 minutes and go drink a beer.
4. Reset the timer for another half hour and give the beans a stiff stir to make sure nobody is sticking to the bottom.
5. After a full hour give one of the biggest beans a try; if they’re still sandy and dry in the center give ’em another 30, if not reduce the heat to low and start the soup base.
6. Heat 1 Tbs. of the oil, and sauté the onions and leeks for about 8 minutes until they start to wilt. Add the yam and potato and the second Tbs. of oil and sauté for another 8 minutes. Add the garlic and chilies and sauté for 5. Then add the sherry and count to ten.
7. After ten, dump all of the beans and as much of the boiling liquid into the pot with the veggies as will fit. The bean juice is where most of the nutrients have gone during the boil, and it will make a hearty and tasty broth.
8. Add your spices, and simmer for another 30 minutes. Taste the broth and adjust with salt as needed, and taste the largest of the beans you are using. If it’s real easy and pleasing to chew, then add your cabbage. Cook until the cabbage is transparent and fragrant.
9. Serve with crusty bread, hearty ale, a swirl of Greek yogurt if you’re not vegan, and love.
Beverage: Guinness Extra Stout (not the crap with the widget)
Soundtrack: Bright Black Morning Light’s “Motion to Rejoin”

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‘Mag’ and Cheese

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Hip, hip! Mornay! Getting new gigs is always nice. And for at least the next few months, until we cuss ourselves out of a job, we’ll be acting as recipe columnists for L.A.-based Swindle Magazine. Our first comes out this month in their ‘Icons’ issue, where our French Onion Sammy will sit alongside Peewee Herman and Ice Cube.
Our next assignment was a winter mac & cheese, so we played with cream and pasta shells this weekend to find a suitable replica of the ‘blue box’ original. That meant a classic oozy coating of off-white cheese on tiny morsels, with no chunky secret ingredients to obstruct or confuse. After recent success with porcini powder, our new culinary cocaine, we realized that the nearly invisible flavor was just what we needed to give normal mac-and’ a woodsy, deep and effervescently funky kick. The trick here is to make a near classic Mornay sauce, subbing melty Fontal and smoked goat cheese for the gruyere, and going heavy with it. (Heed our warning, normal roux proportions don’t apply to heavy whipping cream.) We glopped the stuff in small ramequins for cute baked cups. And instead of breadcrumbs and parsley, we coated the tops with Salt and Pepper Kettle Chips and fresh tarragon curls.
Of course, no magazine assignment is complete without a professional photog stopping by to snap the food pics and slurp a sample. Much obliged to Greg B. for granting us the best compliment there is. Video footage of that below…

Porcini-infused Mac & Cheese
(Serves Four)

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3 cups small shell pasta
1 Tbs. olive oil
1 stick butter
3 cloves garlic
1/2 white onion, minced
4 Tbs. all-purpose flour
4 tsp. porcini mushroom powder
2 cups half and half
1 cup heavy cream
1 # Fontal cheese, shredded
8 oz. Smoked Chevre
8 oz. Parmesan Reggiano, grated
salt and pepper
1/2 cup Kettle chips
1 whole nutmeg
1/4 cup fresh tarragon
1 tsp. paprika
1. Bring a medium pot of lightly salted water to a rolling boil and drop pasta shells. Let return to a boil, turn down to medium heat and let cook for 5-6 minutes, or until shells are cooked al dente. Remove, drain and rinse with cool water. In a large bowl, toss with olive oil and let sit.
2. Start your sauce in a medium sauce pan on medium heat. Toss in butter and let melt while peeling and mincing garlic and onions. Add both to the pot and cook until onions are see-through, about 5 minutes. Bring heat down to low and roux-ify your sauce by adding flour to the mix, one tablespoon at a time, whisking vigorously until all the flour is incorporated into the butter. Now stir in your porcini powder, still whisking. Cook for an additional minute or two before whisking in the half and half slowly and steadily. When all the half and half is incorporated, add the cream. Don’t let the mixture boil.
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3. Now cheese your sauce. Add your Fontal first, small handfuls at a time while stirring until fully mixed in. Next, break off 1-inch chunks of smoked chevre and stir in. Finally, add one-fourth of your grated Parmesan, saving most of it for your mac tops. Let bubble and thicken for a minute or two before removing from heat.
4. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
5. In a large mixing bowl, toss your shells with sauce in small increments until slightly goopier than you think proper. Then season with salt and pepper to taste. Fetch your ramequins and fill nearly to the top with sauced pasta.
6. Prepare your garnishes: Pulse your potato chips in a food processor and chop your tarragon. First top each pasta dish with a dusting of Parmesan. You’ll want to save half for garnish. Next dust the cheese with potato chip crumbs, add tarragon and paprika. Finally sprinkle a last kiss of cheese on top and a quick grate of fresh nutmeg. Put your mac and cheese in the oven and bake for 10 minutes or until tops are browning and crisped.
7. While you’re waiting, complete your garnish arsenal by baking off a Parmesan tuille (shown above). If you have a silpat pan mat, use it. Otherwise, just use baking parchment, or in a pinch, aluminum foil. Each parmesan-cookie will require about 4 Tbs. of parm. Bake alongside mac for about 5 minutes or until sizzly and light tan. Let the tuilles sit for about a minute to firm up and gently remove by carefully running a knife around the edge of the each “cookie.” Remove pasta and eat as is out of the hot ramequin, or dump out and mix for the mushy bowl mac.
Beverage: Brasserie des Franches-Montagnes’ Saint Bon-Chien
Soundtrack: Billy Joel’s Piano Man

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Massage Ale

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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”

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Wed Dreams II: The Dinner

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In our war room-esque planning meetings “Event Number 2,” what we had unceremoniously anointed the 8 course-tasting menu for 60 people, was all about timing. At a predetermined time half of our 10 person crew and one of us would sever from the casual nuptial party, jet to the second location, and establish the scene for much more cooking than seemed possible in just shy of two hours.
Where we left off, Evan and Team Number Two (Lake, Jessie, Jennifer, and Matthew) were en route from closing down the Zen center while Team Number One (Molly, Madeline, Max and Meagan) set up the dining room. Alex and Michael had managed to negotiate all the heating that needing doing onto one of the Kosher Kitchen’s two combo stoves. Huge bubbling pots of beans, blanching water, sauces and searing Seitan filled all six burners, giant pans of roasting squash cramped the oven, and the four pans of foccatia that had been in the making since six am were getting an extra blast of warm air resting on shelves atop the stoves.
Then the stove fell down.
The ensuing chaos lasted for fifteen minutes but it seemed like hours. We Knives dove screaming under the pans of bread that literally flew through the air, managing to save all four but severely deflating each one. Michael managed to block the huge pots of boiling water from scalding your dear writers, and we all nervously tried to communicate with the man in charge of kitchen maintenance. Discovering that our Spanish really is that bad we convinced the dude to focus on the stove that wasn’t lighting instead of vainly trying to lift the fallen soldier back onto its jury rigged support: a greasy board.
With the heat back on, everything fell into place at a breakneck pace. With Michael gone, our kitchen mercenary Aubrey was fabricating tomatoes, when we made another startling discovery that the refrigerator we had stored all our greens in was a tad on the cold side. Lake and Max jumped into weeding out the frozen herbs and lettuces, while we pureed this and sautéed that, all the while going over our prep list out loud like freaked out monks speeding through their mantras.
At 6:30 all the mania was under our thumbs, and we went over the menu and service with the crew one last time. We opted to shave a server and take on another kitchen aid and Max, pictured below, rounded out the daunting task of making 480 perfect plates.
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After the Tomato spoons went out the synergy of our machine was palpable. Heirloom tomato carpaccio looked like moist gems and the faint pillow of grated Reggiano made our diners swoon. “Mixed Green Soup,” a hearty puree of arugala confused a few members of a particularly picky table but totally wowed the rest of the room. The bread turned out perfectly and the loaves that nearly fell to their deaths actually ended up with a superior crust due to their (terrifying) degassing. Smoked chevre infused butter had drunken diners bursting into the kitchen demanding seconds.
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The evening pushed on, and the dishes got more complex. As the plates got bigger, we had to do second and third platings of courses, which kept us on the razors edge of having incorrect numbers…We had a brief meltdown in the salad course when we ran dangerously low on the Stuffing Succotash with one table of 8 still needing plates. Luckily they were the aforementioned picky eaters, and were glad to get a refill of foccatia to augment their slightly smaller portions of salad.
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When it came time to plate the entrée the need for perfect timing was reified double-time. The plate had the most components: a mascarpone enriched white bean purée, soy and apple cider braised squash, seared seitan, a mulled wine reduction, and a slice of tarragon butter. More importantly the plate had to arrive hot. This required all four of us in the kitchen to work very quick and clean, and for the servers to whisk plates away as quickly as possible so we’d have room to mount the second and third waves. It went flawlessly. Barring one or two of the inevitable “where’s the beef” comments, the food was lustily received and Seitan (the dark lord of the underbelly) pushed all our diners to the limits of their waistlines.
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The entrée was out; out came the booze. Madeline had apparently bought some Tequila on the way to the hotel and the bartenders supplied us with cold beers. We leisurely plated the cheese course and gladly turned the reins over to the waiters for the final plating: a Chocolate Avocado pudding served parfait style in a coffee cup with fresh berries and mocha truffles. Between the onslaught of lactic oblivion and sugar overload, Tom and Andy called us out to the dining room to toast our labor. We put on the clean chef’s coats we were too busy to think about when the evening began and humbly received the grooms’ thanks.
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Back in the kitchen we polished off bottles, patted each other on the back and took stock of the evening. We broke a few plates, and set a towel on fire. Lively renditions of Les Miserables (seriously) started up, and we trudged through the clean up that signaled the end of another triumph; our cookery on the largest scale we’ve ever attempted, with the unwavering and flawless help of our best and finest friends.
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Here’s to (back to right, top, down): Molly, Meagan, Lake, Max, Madeline, Jennifer, Jessie, Aubrey, Matthew, and Michael. We could not have done it without you!

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Wed Dreams: The Reception

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Tom met Andy nearly 20 years ago. They’re both vegetarians and practicing Buddhists. Both sweet guys with good taste. Tom and Andy met the Hot Knives blog about 2 months ago when they wrote to us about catering their wedding. We sat down for wine and menu chit-chat when they dropped the bomb, “It’s not one event, but two… back-to-back… at two different locations.”
Well, we lived to retell that unfunny punch line. Last weekend’s festivities went off like a sometimes-terrifying, often beautiful, sweaty 12-hour dream thanks to the 10-deep crew of blank-clad darlings we hired for help. We’ll tell it you in 2 parts using camera flashes from Molly and Aubrey.
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There’s a rolling green grass knoll behind their Zen Center where Tom and Andrew got married. Lady priests waved incense and robed friends hammered copper gongs. The weather was 75 degrees in the sun. Under white tents, Madeline and Jennifer mixed handmade ginger-syrup tonics with lime zest and poured spiced cider. Lake and Jess served oozey sheep and cow cheese from cold marble slabs. Evan and Alex, and our hired thug/sous-chef/lucky charm Mike D. put the finishing touches on the reception goodies in the zen ladies’ full-service kitchen that sat not ten feet behind the raised platform where the guys were to wed. With the kitchen windows open we could hear them prepping for the ceremony while we rolled chevre in nutmeg and formed risotto-sage balls for frying. Ball jokes ensued. Right before the service, one of the buddhists told us, “Your big problem is going to be that we can hear everything you say in there.”
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When the last gong landed, we flung open the screen doors and shot out platters of Nicoise tapenade in potato cups, smokey Muhammara piped on lavash points garnished with pomegranate seeds, cider-rubbed goat cheese on apple slices and, of course, the infamous Risotto Arancini with molten fontina centers (every wedding has to have one dish that the waiters get assaulted in a corner over). Little angel-kids ran around the grass while middle-aged ladies in hats slurped ginger soda and older guys gorged on cocktail nuts. They cut the cake. That was our cue, so we started cleaning in a mad frenzy, flinging half-prepared pots of food into our cars along with 4, still-rising pans of perfect sourdough- herb Focaccia. It took 10 minutes, a cigarette and 2 pieces of wintermint gum, to burn down Wilshire to the Park Plaza near McArthur Park where the champagne was supposed to pop in two hours for the sit-down 8-course vegetarian tasting menu.
The first event had gone an hour longer than we expected. Our sous chef Mike needed to jet for a play production in which he stars as Frank Zappa. One of the hotel’s ovens was kaput. For a while – just a second there – we looked in each others eyes and knew shit was close to going horribly wrong…
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To be continued…

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Old PAs

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Cave-aged IPAs? OK, it’s not doctor recommended, kid-tested or mother approved. Most brew hoarders go by the eenie-meanie-miney-mo-if-its-hoppy-let-it-go mantra, so they only age high-alcohol beers. And we’re sure there’s some scientific sense in that. But we also know that there are exceptions to every rule. So along with the bourbon-barrel 750 ml’s that grace every beer collection, we stuck hop-heavy beers in our makeshift cellar. Talk about testing our resolve! Just imagine it: you make a beer run, scoop up a frosty cold bomber of your favorite high-grade hoppy strong ale only to file it away like a dusty library book.
In honor of our efforts (and in the hopes of heading off any unfortunate science experiments) this week we popped the caps on three of our oldest pale ales just to see if they were drinkable, or better yet, even more desirable than fresh. Ehhhh, no quite… Some tasting notes.

Anderson Valley 10-year Anniversary IPA

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Cave-aged: 8 months
Eye: Redhead pubic amber
Nose: Bottled air, dead flowers
Tongue: Cider, soap suds, cinnamon-stick gum and amonia
Brain: Autumnal, the strong hopping process gives a lasting die-out affect…

Avery’s Maharaja Imperial IPA


Cave-aged:
6 months
Eye: Sun-kissed, slightly dead marigold, no spritz
Nose: nutty, sweet nuthin’
Tongue: caramelized sugar, no hops in sight!
Brain: A surprisingly close approximation, and great version, of a barley-wine


Stone’s 11 Anniversary Black IPA

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Cave-aged: 10 months
Eye: bone-gray and corduroy-brown
Nose: gamey funk, trash and stout
Tongue: pure beer bitter, baker’s chocolate,
Brain: Aged beer in a classical sense plus the still bubbly brightness of hops<form

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Cracking The Beercave

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Trumpets please. Ahem. One year and a half after we first birthed this cacamamy scheme to cellar some of our beer purchases, our “Beer Cave” is finally mature (give or take a few repeat bottles, which will come in handy for taste-offs). That’s right, our stash has finally surpassed the official “99 bottles of beer” threshold, which means we can start cracking these old bottles open and taste the fruits of our patience. That doesn’t mean we’re done of course, just that we can now rotate out some peak bottles for special occasions as we replace them with fresh purchases.
This week we’re tasting the first batch, which we’ll preface below. But first, without further a-do, Hot Knives presents — the October roster of the 99 bottles of beer on our wall…

    1. Old Dubh ale
    2. Alba Scots ale
    3. Port Brewing Santa’s Little Helper
    4. Kwak Belgian ale
    5. Port Old Viscosity
    6. Alesmith Decadence
    7. Coniston Old Man ale
    8. Drake’s Imperial stout
    9. Maharaja Imperial IPA
    10. Konigs Hoeven Quadrupel
    11. Abbaye d’ Aulne brune des peres
    12. Lost Abbey Carnival ale
    13. Buffalo Stout
    14. Port de Proef Signature ale
    15. Allagash Curiex
    16. Sprecher Czar Brew stout
    17. Lagunitas Gnarlywine
    18. Avery Fifteen
    19. Avery the Kaiser
    20. Unibrou 17
    21. Stone Vertical Epic 7.7.7
    22. Bison Brewing Winter Warmer
    23. Grand Cru of the Emperor
    24. De Proef Saison Imperial
    25. Old Numbskull
    26. Duchess
    27. Flemish primitive wild ale
    28. Russian River Supplication
    29. Chambly Noire
    30. Central Coast Scotch ale
    31. Unibrou Quelque Chose
    32. Hair of the Dog Doggie Claws
    33. Paradox Glen Grant
    34. Echigo stout
    35. Harvieston Old Engine
    36. Hardy’s Ale
    37. Rochefort 10
    38. Malheur 12
    39. Barbar ale
    40. Traquair House ale
    41. Chulum elderberry black ale
    42. Westfletteren 8
    43. Westfletteren 12
    44. Kemelbier
    45. Firestone “11”
    46. Allagash Black
    47. Allagash Fluxus
    48. Panil Bariquee
    49. Cantillon Iris Vintage
    50. Rodenbach Classic
    51. Stone 08 Epic
    52. Stone Russian Imperial Stout
    53. Stone 11th Anniversery
    54. Stone Old Guardian
    55. Stone 12th. Aniversry
    56. Stone Double Bastard
    57. Dupont Avec Bon Vieux
    58. Bruery Burbon Aged Levud #1
    59. Avery The Czar
    60. Great Divide Oak’d Yeti
    61. Alpine Chez Moniux
    62. Jolly Pumpkin Bam Noir
    63. Jolly Pumpkin Fuego Otono
    64. Anderson Valley Imperial IPA
    65. Lost Abbey Judgement Day
    66. Telegraph Stock Porter
    67. Alaskan Smoked Porter
    68. Rodenbach Grand Cru
    69. Avery Mephistaphales Stout
    70. Avery Samael
    71. Hair of the Dog Adam
    72. Hair of the Dog Fred
    73. De Proef Reinaert Wild
    74. Mikeller BigBadWorse
    75. The Hand Dark Force
    76. Rougue Old Crust.
    77. Rochefort 10
    78. Dogfish Head Immort Ale
    79. JW Lees Harvest Ale
    80. Klumbacher Eisbock
    81. Bar Bar Winter Bock
    82. Anchor Old Foghorn
    83. Sierra Nevada Bigfoot
    84. Orval
    85. Samiclaus Helles
    86. Le Coq Russian Stout
    87. Monk’s Café
    88. Mad River John Barlycorn Barleywine
    89. Duchesse De Bourgogne
    90. Inveralmond Black Friar
    91. Hair of the Dog Blue Dot IPA
    92. Russian River Damnation
    93. Black Flag Imperial Stout
    94. Alesmith Horney Devil
    95. Alesmith Speedway Stout
    96. Flying Dog Gonzo Imperial Porter
    97. Samiclaus
    98. Brassirie Du Rocs Grand Cru
    99. Golden Carulus Golden Ale

Not too shabby. In the months to come, expect to see posts and tasting notes on everything from year-old Christmas ales to face-offs between different years in Stone Brewing’s Vertical Epic series. But for now, we have some dirty ol’ IPA guzzling to do.
You see, this milestone has come not a minute too soon, because not all of the beers we have whisked off store shelves in the last 16 months are the kind typically recommended for aging: that is especially true of the small selection of India Pale Ales and Imperial IPAs that have been skunking up our shelves for months. Wish us luck, this could get stanky. Look for the results later this week. To be continued…

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