There will always be central aspects of the holiday season that are total bummers. For some its traveling long distances crammed up against smelly strangers in a metal box impossibly cruising tens of thousands of feet above the surface of the planet: screaming children placed at all corners like mentally mutilating motion sensors. Others sweat the savagery of the shopping days with names that smack of biblical plagues, or chug horrendous herbal-speed-sodie-pops to shakingly click on once in a year low prices at ungoldy hours.
Our horror for the holidays is a hydra with one head: Pumpkin Ale. While we like to consider ourselves non-haters, we believe there is a special circle of hell for the makers of oft ubiquitous after October bottles that bear cutesy pictures of harvest squash, jack-o-lanterns, and other autumnal ephemera. When another pie tasting beer pops up in the stead of a truly wonderful winter ale we cry a little…we die a little.
Usually, this blatantly biased and unfair critique is leveled against the most deserving of bummer-breweries. This year the emperor’s unsightly ass was exposed with a suggestion from Alex, the beer buyer and expert-extraordinaire of Red Carpet in Glendale. While staring at the cases, arms filling with brews, we set upon the slightly campy looking bottle to the untrue North. Ichabod Ale will undoubtedly be the only pumpkin ale to grace this blog, graceful commentary in tow. The brew is a very rare seasonal selection from the Alpine Beer Company, when we bought ours a few weeks back there were a rumored three cases in Los Angeles, two of them in front of us.
Why did Ichabod avoid the Axe? Firstly this is no “special release” from Sam Adams. Alpine is a tiny brewery and you can taste the small batch vibe before the beer is in your mouth. The flavors immediately turn towards Flanders, or at least Michigan, where sour and crisp flavors set the stage for what few sugar and spice notes play in the finish. The beer tastes like it’s spent some quality time in beautiful wood barrels nestled in snowdrifts atop pointy hills. The addition of pumpkin in this case is in reverence to the age-old equation of fruit+time=booze. No dribbling of an extract from New Jersey over sterile brew towers for Alpine; which means none of that nonsense for you. You taste the room where this beer was made before you taste the time of the year, and for us that’s the real merry maker.

Dairy Pairy: Senne-flada, an unpasteurised washed rind cows milk cheese from the Swiss Alps.
Soundtrack: Dawn Penn’s “No, No, No”

If the Good Doctor — upon burning through Baker and Barstow and pulling to the side of the desert highway to take a gibbering inventory of the drugs and booze — had not counted two quarts of Wild Turkey bourbon, but rather two bottles of this Wild Dog porter, rest assured the infamous burn through Vegas casinos and the post-Nixon American Dream would have been considerably… well, sloooowwwer.
This black froth is heavy stuff. Not to be touched if you value quick inertia. Yet this is exactly why it belongs among the cadre of preferred strong winter brews, perfect for slugging fireside or near the end of a holiday meal — even out of a thermos on a hiking expedition. As we babbled about in the recent Hot Knives Thanksgiving podcast, you’ll remember that the Flying Dog brewers, to make Wild Dog, literally took their Hunter S. Thompson tribute beer (Gonzo Porter) and pumped it into the nearby whiskey distillery, where the brown bread-like stout was left to age in oak bourbon barrels. The result is fitting: bombastic and indulgent and proud.
Slipping this into a glass isn’t easy, it erupts in a violent way, lashing out with a high head of millions of little caviar-sized mocha colored bubbles. This would be annoying if not for the perfect froth proportion it creates for the rest of the drinking experience. Wait two or three minutes and it has subsided to an idyllic level, which helps bring the brew up to a slightly warmer temperature too, so you can get all the sweet and sour notes. You can even pour this crew into extra-wide Scotch glasses and swirl it in hoop motions as if you were savoring 20-year-old whiskey. There’s less of the soy sauce notes you usually find in a porter or stout of its consistency; more balance of dark, hard grains against an after note of apple bacony sugar. The last note is like stinging nettles and American sour mash.
Dairy Pairy: Hook’s 10 year Cheddar
Soundtrack: Silver Apple’s “A Pox on You”

As a point of order, it’s important to note that now is the time of year when the weakest of wines will have its day. If its youthful booze you’re looking for, turn your eyes away from tired Beaujolais and pick up a wet hopped IPA.
When it comes to IPA’s we like to think we’re completely in the know. We’ve tried literally every incarnation of the recipe we can get our hands on from humble interpretations of the dustily old world, to gigantic and brutal booze monsters from northern California. Over the last few months, however, there have been a number of IPAs brewed in a different style than one might usually associate with our favorite beer. From Bridgeport to Sierra Nevada, brewers have been producing what’s known as “wet IPA’s,” to take advantage of the yearly hop harvests in Washington State. These beers quite literally turn the IPA style on its head. Historically, British brewers pumped up the jam on their ales with more hops and alcohol to deter spoilage on long trips to relieve imperial soldiers in India. Instead, the hops get picked and rushed to a different southland to quickly be pickled in a tart and delicate brew.
Port Brewing’s High Tide IPA, was one of the first wet IPA’s sampled by your favorite beer geeks. After the holy shit a new Port brew gimmie-gimmies subsided in the aisles of Cap’n Cork, we were slightly concerned. Yes, this was a new beer from one of our favorite brewers. Yes, it was an IPA…but the alcohol percentage was so low…
The concern over the hooch levels were quickly overridden by our first tastes and a little more education about the brewing style. There was an astoundingly clean variety of hop flavors, and the 6% abv was just present enough to let the grassy, medicinal final flavors of fall levitate on the liquid. The mouth feel had a super soothing feeling, like lemonade does when bought from enterprising six year olds. While this would be immaculate in the summer heat, this fruit of the fall hop harvest offers the perfect foil to ciders and pumpkin ales. Super savory and sweet, this beer would be perfect for a Thanksgiving feast (if your hoard it in your fridge), or a slice of your favorite pizza in the park. It’s a beer that has blissfully bright and clean flavors, but its delicacy means that it won’t fight with your food.
Dairy Pairy: Selles Sur Cher-an ash ripened goat cheese from central France.
Soundtrack: Jesus and Mary Chain “You trip me up”