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Sep23

Portland’s Bounty: Zwanze Day and Farm to Face

by mynie on September 23, 2015 at 6:48 pm
Posted In: Uncategorized

farmtoface

Zwanze Day means a bad weekend for us beer hoarders. Er… former beer hoarders, actually, as I had to liquidate my cellar to finance a cross-country move. Since then, the rare or rareish releases I acquire go into my belly within a few hours of their entering my filthy, godforsaken sight.

How did the old reserve get built up? I never, like, intentionally tried to fill up a whole cellar.

Well, for one thing, I used to get more at beer releases, because beer releases used to be fun things to do on a weekend instead of Major Media Events. Dark Lord Day meant getting shitblasted by noon surrounded by a bunch of my obese and black-hearted brethren. There was no worry of running into coworkers, or people who watch local news, or really anyone who would bat an eye at a grown man aspirating vomit in front of his family while the sun was still up. Good times, then. The scene’s been ruined by the influx of normals.

Also, people used to be less savvy and so they’d trade you some obscure, undervalued, 500-bottle release local for a bigger name brewery release, like Dark Lord. Not that I ever thought I was taking advantage of anybody—the exact opposite was the case more often than not, such as the time I excepted a bomber of Dragon’s Milk for a Darkness—but the dynamics were different. Beer trading didn’t used to bring out the very worst in humanity.

Now, Dark Lord itself tastes like milk chocolate soy juice, and Dark Lord Day means you get to buy a scratch off so you have a one in four chance of it being a worthwhile release. And other fests are likewise gated and inaccessible. Getting into a Hill Farmstead release has the same odds as winning fifty bucks off a pulltab, and it comes with the bonus of having to drive home through dark mountains where your GPS don’t work. In May, I bought a ten dollar raffle ticket because I thought he prize was a bottle of BCS Proprietors. Turns out the prize was the chance to buy a bottle of Proprietors, for fifty bucks. I asked the guy what the raffle funds went for, then, and he says they use it buy more beer. What the fuck?

So I and other jaded middle income dudes have begun to embrace flagships and sessions. I’ll drive up to Tributary or Hill Farmstead every couple of months, sure, but I’m rarely going to end up scoring something that’ll be worth writing about on this here fancyman blog. I’m fine with Tributary’s heavenly porter, or even Portsmouth’s Stephan Urquell. No need to show off with my drinkin.

The result has been a much more enjoyable approach to beerdom. I don’t feel like I gotta get dem ticks, or produce content for readership that never measured beyond the mid-hundreds. That crap might have been worth it if we were scoring press release bottles, but we pointedly will never write the sort of prostrated, frothing bullshit that scores press release bottles. Also, we smell too bad and have to many sex offender incidents on our records to become employed by the sorts of places that would have access to press release bottles.

And so, roundabouts, Zwanze Day sounds like the fest for guys like me. Tons of good shit, all relatively reasonably priced, all without having to pay a cover or stand in a long line unless you’re stupid and you go to Lord Hobo.

The only catch is you can’t take any home. So you can’t screw people on trades later. Also, wonderfully, there are no mules! Everyone there is expected to actually drink the beer they purchase, and this thins the crowds out fantastically (like what Vietnam did to boomers).

Novare Res put on a great fest. The vibe was chill, medium-volume, surprisingly diverse and not at all douchey. You got a handful of neophyte beer braggorts, but mostly it was old and oldish dudes who were content to simply drink.

After the fest, we stopped by Portland’s Craft Beer Cellar, where the selection was fresh and wide and filled with wonderful flagship options that are the heart and soul of the American craft beer scene. We purchased marzens and pilseners and medium-ABV pales. The good stuff. Nothing fancy, son. No need—wha—what’s this, sitting by the counter all alone, uncovered, just asking for it?

farmtofacepoured

I was suspicious, as if the bottle was rigged, like if I pulled on it a trapdoor would open up and I’d be showered with ping pong balls.

“C-can I just buy this?”

“Yeah?” said the guy behind the counter. “Only there’s a limit of two.”

No lines, no waiting, no having to hand over other beers to butter up the clerk, no having to pay for the chance to pay again. A good, rare beer sat atop a counter, because Portland is beautiful.

It pours yellow, lightly hazy and medium fizzy. I can’t claim to be a sour expert, but of all the sours I’ve had, this one smells the most like a nice Mexican soda. Not that disgusting, syrupy Jarriots shit, either. The good Goya stuff, that actually resembles juice—lactic, but soft, and discernably peachy.

The flavor is likewise soft and juicy while still bringing in lactic complexities and some faint, pleasant vinegar nodes. One of the most middle of the road sours I’ve ever come across, which is wonderful for a peach-based beer. Starts sweet and fruity, the middle is more crisp and sour, and finish is dry without being too try. Just—wonderfully balanced. Even the body is somehow light while also being firm and fizzy.

 Comment 
Aug28

Indeed Let It Roll IPA

by dustine on August 28, 2015 at 6:18 pm
Posted In: Beer Reviews

indeed let it roll

Just in time for the anniversary of the day freedom was born, Indeed Brewing drops this bittersweet liquid reminder of our country’s god-given duty to not only let us roll, but to also let it roll.

And like a pack of renegade air travelers this beer don’t take shit. When forced against its will into a shaker glass of captivity a light tan head repels a melon-y, bubblegum bouquet. The aroma is distinctively like hay in a rubber bottle, which also is allowed to be packed in your carry-on bag.

Once on board, the sharp malt flavor finds its seat behind an entire row of hops carefully selected for one mission: to overpower this IPA and bring its heavy malt structure to the ground. The beer takes off without incident. Cruising across the palate it remains on course for a typical hopped-up, light bodied journey. But then shortly after reaching altitude the grains come through dark and cloying, with hints of carob. The beer’s been hijacked! There becomes a discrete segregation of the front, those suspicious-looking hops immediately profiled as possibly the German Hull Melon variety, and the back, those remaining passengers whose patriotic righteousness expresses “No way, hombre! Not with me onboard!”

The back end’s malt majority attempts to overcome and disable its captors with complex, multi-grain teamwork, and many sweet catchphrases are uttered during the struggle. Heroism, American heroism, gets blasted on full fuckin’ display. Several hops go down, but some still leach through until the very final end.

Alas, the beer is gone, lost in the brutal collision of its vessel’s contents into the belly of grim reality. Even with an adorable old warehouse filled with recently upgraded brewing equipment, all beers must eventually go to drunk.

This September, grab one of these sonsabitches and commend the heroes inside, if only for the hope that the taste may enlighten us – strengthen us – with the same sense of boxcutter-deflecting badassness.

└ Tags: heroes, IPA, Minnesota
2 Comments
Aug27

Hill Farmstead’s Mary

by mynie on August 27, 2015 at 5:36 pm
Posted In: Beer Reviews

mary

Poured into an Alchemist glass even though I own an HF glass because I will god-damned if I’m gonna drink a pilsener out of a chalice. Also, side note, why does Alchemist make glasses if you’re supposed to drink all their beers right out of the can? I am the only one of you people who’s paying any attention? What about ETHICS IN BEER JOURNALISM?!? We need a #drunkardgate, only instead of being mean to women on twitter we’ll base it around getting wasted ethically. Everyone wins.

Okay, so I had this at Hill Farmstead’s newly opened taproom, where you can get full pours. I was already drunk and palette-wrecked off of Heady, so I’m glad I had sense enough to discard my notes and take home a 750 of this.

It pours like a nice Euro pils—dark gold, filtered, with a steady white head that laces mightily.

Smells fantabulous. Mild herbal profile against aggressive, dry German hops that could easily be mistaken for Saaz. The German grain aromas become more pronounced as I gain familiarity with the beer and it ends up tasting like an absolutely perfect blend between a Municher and a Czech pils (although the hops are German, they’re aggressive and spicy enough to resemble Czech beers).

Tastes like it smells: a wonderfully balanced-yet-aggressive pils. Medium grain, big hops, kiss of yeast, and then zero esters. Finishes dry as can be.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good, fresh Prima Pils, and even longer since I had FFF’s criminally underrated Czech Booty Camp, so I can’t say for sure that Mary unseats either of them as the best American-brewed pils. I can say, however, that it easily sit alongside them in the upper tier.

 Comment 
Jul15

Boom Sauce IPA, by Lord Hobo Brewing

by mynie on July 15, 2015 at 9:30 pm
Posted In: Beer Reviews

IMG_3039

I don’t recall there ever being a louder, emptier hype. This is a real good beer bar! That means they logically must produce real good beer! Because those two things are exactly the same. Right? R-right?

Anyhow, the reviews have been middling. And the price the exorbitant. I paid $4.20 for a single, 16-ounce can. Heady Topper costs $3.12.

So, whatever. I bought it. No one forced me to. The hype had got to me, as did the dream of perhaps getting to stick it to the all know-it-all beer nerds, drop some serious knowledge about how this is actually an amazing new chapter in the history of beer. Bring in on, Hobos! I’m ready for your barrage of shanties and kettle-cooked beans!

Annnnd it’s just okay. Tastes like a really middle of the road DIPA from 2006.

Tastes great up front, actually: bready malt, almost English-tasting, against verdant American hops. But then the malt starts to get syrupy, as old school DIPAs are wont to do. The balance gets thrown off by the back end, and a lingering sour aftertaste does little to bring things together.

Really, this is an impressive early offering. Were it not for the hype and price, I and everyone else would have high hopes for this scrappy little brewery. But the hobos might have done themselves in, what with their pre-existing hipness raising expectations and all.

└ Tags: Boom Sauce, Lord Hobo, Wobrn
 Comment 
Jun24

Oak Aged Bretta, and the gross state of beer trading

by mynie on June 24, 2015 at 9:55 pm
Posted In: Beer Reviews

oab

Cut to a beer forum. Could be any beer forum. Could be your beer forum.

A youngster was kind enough to score a second bottle of Logsdon’s still-kinda-buzzy Oak Aged Bretta from the liquor store. Rather than drink them both, he decides to expand his horizon a bit and see if he can do a $4$ trade with someone else, for something he can’t get in his local market.

FT: Oak Aged Bretta. ISO: Something good. Whatever you want to offer.

This elicits tumbleweeds. But then, suddenly:

OMG check out this NEW MONEY r-tard. He doesn’t even know precisely which vintage of some garage-brewed lacto hefe he wants in exchange for this shelf turd. Lol what a fucking newb.

To wit I respond:

Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Fucking die. You whalez people disgust me. Your existence does more to prove those Occupy kids right than any Citibank bailout ever possibly could. Because you’re obviously rich enough to afford dropping 3k per month on beers no reasonable human gives a fuck about yet still unimportant or worthless enough to spend 8 hours a day digging through beer forums and making runs to the UPS store. I pray I shall live to see the Soviet-style liquidation of you and your kind.

Er… okay. Let’s settle down.

Just a few years ago, it seemed like this was one of the most desirable buzz beers. Now I found it sitting unassumingly upon a liquor store shelf—didn’t even have to go through any of that Binny’s bullshit to get it. There was no making small talk with the clerk. No reaching behind the counter. No signing up for the release weeks in advance and leaving work early to grab it before someone else does.

But a lack of hype does not mean a lack of quality. Or—god, does it? Is my very pallet, my ability to physically experience things, actually influenced by the perceived rarity of a beer?

It might be. I don’t know. Because as insane and delicious as this sounded when I first heard of this in 2012, when it was effectively unattainable, it now seems a little pedestrian. Not bad at all. Quite well brewed and expertly aged. But when everybody else has copied your idea so much that your product no longer causes neckbeard traders to salivate, that—that—that, I gues that means it effects the way the beer tastes. Because I am an inhuman monster. I am basically as bad as the beer trading guy.

Pours quite dark for the style with a small head that fades quickly. Smells tart, very brett-forward, with only light hints of whiskey. No discernible fruit complexities, not even as it warms, but the balance is nice.

Tastes much more complex than it smells. Tart cherry nodes up front remain present throughout but morph as they mellow, producing hints of sherbert and melons before smoothing out into a spicy, lightly boozy saison.

└ Tags: Logsdon, Oak Aged Bretta
 Comment 
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