The Food Babe Thought She Could Spread Paranoia Among Beer Drinkers. You Won’t Believe What Happened Next!

There’s this pile of bullshit being spread around the Internet today courtesy of a presumed charlatan called the Food Babe. It involves ingredients in beer. Please don’t read her demented ramblings. Instead, read this and this.

That is all.

Is it Last Call for Muskoka’s Legendary Oddity?

On Friday night, I opened a special “vintage” edition bottling of the Muskoka Brewery’s Legendary Muskoka Oddity beer. I wasn’t expecting much from the one year old ale, frankly, because to my experience spiced beers generally don’t age that well. Some conditioning is usually required to keep the ‘pop’ of the herbs and spices in check, true enough, but over the course of a full year, I’ve found that the tendency is for the flavourings to become overly muted and, well, just dull.

Not so the Oddity, for some reason. The juniper and orange peel notes were present and identifiable, and the floral aspect of the heather tips was still in harmony with the rest of the flavour and aroma notes. An experiment that might have been ill-advised – or so I thought – turned out to be a wholly remarkable success.

Pity, then, it may never be allowed to happen again.

On the phone this morning with Gary McMullen, co-founder and head of the brewery, I learned that the future of the Oddity is very much in doubt. There are no plans to make any this year and, he suggested, scant interest in doing it again next year. Seems there is a problem fitting it into the production schedule, and although McMullen didn’t say this, presumably also an issue with finding a place to sell it, since the LCBO tends to allocate only a specific number of product places to individual breweries. With the brewery’s new Detour and early arriving Summer Weiss, the squeeze is on the Oddity.

Which I think is simply a damn shame. Ontario breweries don’t do Belgian-inspired beers much, and when they do they seldom if ever do them this well. When it first appeared three years ago, I declared the Oddity to be the best Belgian-influenced ale yet brewed in this province, and I stand by that evaluation. Last year’s wasn’t quite a good out the gate, but as evidenced on Friday has aged quite well. (Curiously, a year-old version of that first edition did not mature as gracefully.) Down the road, this beer has the potential to becomes as legendary as it claims to be now.

Let us hope that the planning meetings McMullen noted are upcoming over the next few months will result in a stay of execution for this strong and compelling brew. For as much as Ontario now boasts a plethora of hoppy pale ales and IPAs and double IPAs, I do sometimes bemoan our relative lack of complex and non-bitter beers, like the Legendary Muskoka Oddity.

Looking for the El Bulli of Spanish Beer

There are a multitude of excuses one can use to justify a trip to Spain: tapas, incredible landscapes, Spanish cider (sidra), the Costa de Sol, Gaudí, jamón in all its many forms, flamenco.

What you don’t use as the basis for an Iberian excursion is beer. Which, I suppose, is precisely why I did so.

In the years since Tim Webb and I signed a contract to produce The World Atlas of Beer, and especially since we decided to follow that with The Pocket Beer Guide, I have become borderline obsessed with countries boasting nascent and developing craft beer cultures. First for me was Italy, an interest which I must admit predated the Atlas by a few years, but was kicked into overdrive by my research for the book. Then arrived Brazil, a nation known by few North American beer aficionados, but which is making astonishingly rapid improvements in both quantity and quality of craft beer. Then Argentina, Singapore, France, Poland.

And Spain. So when we decided to make The Pocket Beer Guide into an annual publication and our intrepid Anglo-Spanish-Czech correspondent Max Bahnson wasn’t available to get the inside scoop on Iberia, as he did for the first edition, I volunteered to do the research myself. After all, I was going to be in Belgium anyway, and since Madrid is but a mere 1,000 or so miles from Brussels, by the deeply twisted logic of the chronic beer obsessive, it really did make a lot of sense.

My research started with the good folk at Iberian Beer United, importers of numerous Spanish breweries, and the operator of the Twitter account for the Barcelona Beer Festival, who later revealed himself to be Mikel Rius, one of the young fest’s founders. As often happens in beer circles, they led me to others, who in turn led me to still others, and before long my week divided between Madrid and Barcelona was promising to be a whirlwind of tasting and discovery.

My only hope was that at least some of the beers I’d be sampling would stand up to serious critique.

Arriving in the Spanish capital on a Sunday evening, I was faced with both great hunger and the realization that most of Madrid’s beer joints are closed on Sundays. Except, that is, for a brewpub called Fábrica Maravillas, shoehorned into a modest storefront in a district just north of the city center. And so off I went. (Continue reading at The Celebrator online…)

The End of World of Beer

Jack Curtin was right, as it turns out. This blog will never be a “temporary” home for World of Beer. In fact, it won’t be World of Beer at all for much longer.

As was my declared intention some time ago, I have sold the URL worldofbeer.com. No longer will typing in that phrase lead you to this blog; rather, it will take you, for now, to a GoDaddy placeholder. After close to two decades of Internet use, I am no longer World of Beer.

So stay tuned for:

– A new site;

– (Before the end of this year. Really. I mean it. Don’t you start with me, Jack!);

– More content with greater regularity;

– A broader focus;

– And I believe what the marketers call “a fresh new look!”

 

 

 

 

 

Last Week in Las Vegas – 4 New Belgium Beers

In addition to having the great pleasure of hosting a terrific beer dinner at Fleur by Hubert Keller in the Mandalay Bay Casino and Resort and presenting a seminar on cider to a rapt audience at the VIBE Conference, last week’s Vegas jaunt afforded me the opportunity to sample a bunch of new New Belgium Brewing releases. Impressed? Damn right I was!

The tasting got off to a great start with the Lips of Faith Gruit, a golden and herbaceous brew with a nose of wet grass, jasmine, oily florals and elderflower cordial. Being someone not normally enamoured by gruits – I’ve had a few of these unhopped, herb-and-spice brews that were vaguely appealing, but can’t recall one I’d be inclined to reorder – I wasn’t expecting a lot from this beer, but boy, was I in for a surprise.

The start of NBB’s Gruit is soft and floral-accented, but leads to a wonderfully constructed mid-palate of spicy, earthy-minerally notes and gentle sweetness, accented by a hint of licorice emerging in the second half and a surprisingly dry finish which was, to me, faintly and surprisingly reminiscent of a good gin. Simply, this is the best gruit I’ve yet come across and sufficiently impressive that I held the remainder of the bottle in reserve and chose it as the beer I’d finish at the conclusion of my tasting.

Next up was the new year-rounder, Snapshot Wheat Beer, a sandy-gold ale with a dry, citrus-accented aroma and a light and lemony body with a slight herbal character emerging in the middle. The surprise here is what I later learned is a lactobacillus tarting up of part of the mash, which results in a quite dry and tangy, refreshing finish, something which made me note that Snapshot “tastes like what might happen if a Belgian decided to riff on the Berliner weisse style.”

Third in my tasting was a reinvention of the 2003 experiment, Transatlantique Kriek, which sees a New Belgium ale blended with cherry lambic from Frank Boon. Vibrant red  and nutty with cherry pit and dry cocoa aromas, this most attractive brew segues from lightly sweet and cherry-ish to more a tart cherry and herbal body, finishing with a slight booziness – although nowhere close to its 8% alcohol strength – and a lingering bitter cherry taste. But for its formidable strength and the fact this was a mid-afternoon tasting, I would have hung around to finish this one, too.

The final beer was the latest in the brewery’s Hop Kitchen series – and honestly, is there another brewery around with this many beer divisions? The new RyePA is piney and resinous on the nose, as you might expect, but with a spicy kick of black pepper mixed with something bready and umami-ish. The body is full of hops, for certain, but restrained as well, in the tradition of NBB’s Ranger IPA – spicy orange with hints of tropical fruit giving way to a more profoundly fruity body, dry and spicy but with notes of kiwi and starfruit. With a finish that is both palate-cleansing and bitter, I was left with the impression that, despite its not inconsequential 7.5% alcohol strength, this would be an ideal brew for sipping alongside a medium-heat curry.

Advice for St. Patrick’s Day

Okay, so evidently St. Patrick’s Day isn’t just a day this year; it’s a whole friggin’ weekend. Which means that the madness and mayhem will commence tomorrow.

While I’ll personally be laying low this year, as I do around March 17 every year, many others will be running riot over the next four days, drinking beer and whiskey that they seldom if ever otherwise drink, calling anything that’s green “Irish,” including bog-standard lager dyed with food colouring, and generally using the feast day of an Irish saint as an excuse to get plastered. Which is fine.

But if you’re going to “do” St. Patrick’s Day, at least do it right! Which means paying at least a bit of attention to the following:

1) If you must shorten the name, repeat after me, St. Paddy’s Day. Not St. Patty’s Day or plain Patty’s Day. “St. Paddy’s Day.”

2) There are many more Irish whiskeys out there than just Jameson. Try one or two. You might just find yourself drinking Irish whiskey more than just once a year.

3) What I said above about whiskey? It applies equally to Irish stout.

4) If you must do shots — and on a day that is sure to be filled with drinking, I would counsel strongly against them —  limit yourself to just one or two. Five or six or more whiskey shots is a sure-fire route to drunkenness and eventual spewing.

5) Wear green, wear funny badges, wear silly hats if you wish, but accept that you are not, in fact, Irish. Not for a day or for a minute. (Unless, of course, you really are Irish.)

6) A cocktail made with crème de menthe is not by definition Irish. Neither is one made with Midori.

7) Imperial stout is not a beer built for all-day drinking.

8) The green-dye-in-lager thing? It shouldn’t need saying, but I’ll say it anyway: Just. Don’t.

9) Lining up to get into a bar is stupid. If there is a line-up, go somewhere else for a drink or two and return later to see if the line-up has dissipated. If it has not, just accept that it was never meant to be.. (The sole exception to this rule is when the line-up is covered, heated and licensed.)

10) That “Kiss me, I’m Irish” shirt? Leave it at home.

Repeat After Me: There Is No Such Thing as a “Best Beer City”

Oy!

Just two days — TWO DAYS! — after I responded to a Facebook post about yet another list of supposed “Best Beer Cities,” and sagely decide not to follow further the fruitless path of argument, I come across still another such list. It’s orchestrated in a different, although by no means unique, fashion, but is as flawed as the other and all the rest for one simple reason.

There is no such thing as a frigging “Best Beer City!” Or Cities! Period. End of story.

Look, I enjoy a good list as much as the next guy, and I’m not exactly the kind of person who back down happily from a robust debate, but there are simply too many factors at play to ever resolve the issue of best beer city. In the mind of the drinks guy over at the Seattle P-I, whom I will neither name nor link to for reasons related to past conversations, brewery count would seem to be the defining factor. For Magnolia’s Dave McLean, it’s history, longevity and food and drink culture. For Jeff Alworth, the deciding factor is craft beer in dive bars. And for me, well, I like a great beer bar over a great brewery and think that the ability to get a diversity of local, regional, national and international beers is key, as is the opportunity to enjoy a really good meal with a glass of really good beer.

But that doesn’t mean I know what city is best any more than it means Jeff or Dave or P-I guy does, mainly because, like the beer I drink, where I like to drink it changes with the circumstance! Put me on the west coast and I might be happy as Larry in Seattle or Portland or San Francisco, and in awe of the beer scenes in each city. Pick me up and plant me in Denver or New York City or Philadelphia and I’ll be equally delighted there. Teleport me to Montreal and you’ll soon find me at Dieu du Ciel or Cheval Blanc or Au Pied du Cochon, most likely with a wide grin on my face.

Let me put it another way. The northern German city of Köln, or Cologne, is known for a single style of beer, one which most people find rather unremarkable. It has not — to my experience, at least — fine dining restaurants where you can sample excellent beer with your meal, and neither has it a plethora of good beer bars. Yet thanks to its general pedestrian friendliness, fabulous old city district, exceptional culture and, dammit, the superb quality of some of those kölsches that others sweep aside as ordinary “lawnmower beers,” it is one of my favourite places in Germany, Europe and the world in which to drink beer.

And please note, that was “favourite,” not “best.”

European Brewery of the Year: Brouwerij De Dochter van de Korenaar

After a small and unavoidable interruption, we return now to the final of my Brewery of the Year honours, this for the European brewery that most caught my attention. And it is a small and to me previously unknown brewery on the border between Belgium and the Netherlands, Brouwerij De Dochter van de Korenaar.

At a mere 1,200 hl of production in 2013, 70% of which was sold locally, I suppose it’s not altogether surprising that this family business had escaped my notice. But after tasting my way through seven beers in the brewery tasting room – really just an extension of the family home – I was heartily glad to have been finally able to make its acquaintance.

Run by Ronald Mengerink and his family – even the kids help out – De Dochter impressed me across the board, with the dry-hopped and rather unBelgian Belle Fleur, a pale ale aptly named with some lovely floral notes; the rich and chocolaty Embrasse, a 9% alcohol brown ale that bridges the gap between strong porter and abbey ale; Ensemble, a limited run barley wine with great complexity and balance; and Bravour, a restrained smoked malt beauty.

The admittedly unwieldy name of the brewery means “The Daughter of the Ear of Corn” and is purportedly an old synonym for “beer,” although according the brewery’s own website the full phrase was “The Juice of the Daughter of the Ear of Corn.” Perhaps that was deemed too long, or maybe borderline rude. It matters not. What counts is that this is one of the most impressive northern European discoveries I have made in the past several years and, thanks to a planned move and expansion, should in the next few years have its beers a bit more widely available.

Keep an eye open, because this “Daughter” is one to watch, and a most worthy European Brewery of the Year.

Asian-Australasian Brewery of the Year: Kiuchi Brewery

I didn’t get to Asia or Australasia in 2013, not even close. But I was fortunate enough on several occasions to have representatives from the region come to me, both individually and collectively, so that I had ample opportunity to taste a great number of Australian, Kiwi and Asian ales and lagers.

And of all those beers from all those breweries, one specific brand stands out in my memory: Hitachino Nest Nipponia from Japan’s Kiuchi Brewery.

It was presented to me at the New York bar Jimmy’s No. 43 by Toshiyuki Kiuchi, the head of the company who was at the time touring the U.S., just prior to a beer dinner we were co-hosting. I loved the bright flavours it presented, and the way it took what I’ve always viewed as a relatively simple and straight-forward hop, Sorchi Ace, and coaxed a greater complexity out of it. But most of all, I loved the story of how it was brewed from a nearly extinct variety of barley, brought back to existence from a few seeds through the efforts of the company, which even went so far as to ship the grains to the U.K. for malting, and then back to Japan for brewing.

Prior to that point, frankly, the Kiuchi beers had never made that strong an impression upon me. Thereafter, however, perhaps stimulated by a greater and growing interest in the company, I began to discover brews of interest far beyond their merely pleasant White Ale and Red Rice. Beers like Dai Dai IPA, which is hardly an IPA, but is still a most fascinating and enjoyable quaff, and XH, a strong, whisky-edged ale I’m embarrassed to say languished for months in my beer fridge before I was inspired to taste, and thoroughly enjoy, it.

Still, at the end of the day, my thoughts drift back to the glorious lack of logic that resulted in Nipponia, and that’s reason enough for me to make the Kiuchi Brewery my pick as Asian-Australasian Brewery of the Year.

Latin American Brewery of the Year: Cervejas Bodebrown

Since I began this year-end awards, many people have asked about my criteria. To which I answer that I simply choose the breweries that have made the greatest impression on me during the year previous,  for one reason or another.

In the case of Latin America, that brewery is Curitiba, Brazil’s Cervejas Bodebrown.

Now, I could say that Bodebrown’s impression was fostered by beers like the Wee Heavy, long a Brazilian favourite, or the Black Rye IPA, sampled during last year’s Mondial de la Bière, or the always intense and intimidating Perigosa, Brazil’s original double IPA. And frankly, I would be entirely justified in so doing.

But oddly enough, the beer wasn’t really what brought Bodebrown to mind when I thought about which Latin American breweries had the most impact in 2013. Rather, that role was played by the gadabout head of the brewery, Samuel Cavalcanti Cabral.

Not only was Samuel seemingly everywhere last year, introducing the world to not just Bodebrown beer, but Brazilian craft beer in general, but he also seemed to be front and centre every time a visiting brewer or beer notable showed up in his home country. In such fashion, he has positioned himself as a sort of ambassador of Brazilian beer, and it’s a role he fills quite admirably, supporting the efforts of his company, his brewing school, his hometown of Curitiba – fast becoming the capital of Brazilian craft beer, thanks again largely to Samuel – and his fellow Brazilian brewers.

For those efforts, and also for his fine beers, I am delighted to pick Cervejas Bodebrown as my Latin American Brewery of the Year for 2013.