Beer makers sure do love to crank out "limited edition" bottlings these days, huh? It used to be they'd peg these releases to the four seasons, but when that didn't sate beer drinkers thirst for variety they started tying them into just about anything and everything on the calendar -- solstices, equinoxes, full moons, half moons, spring break, tax day... you name it! That's all well and good, particularly for booze-hounds with ADD, but in my experience rarely has a seasonal beer rated as highly or surpassed the original. That said, Newcastle's new spring seasonal is one hell of a tasty brew. Founders' Ale, which is available nationwide now through April, is a classic, medium-bodied bitter ale -- dry, hoppy, a discernible caramel sweetness. It's quite crisp and earthy, thanks to the Styrian Goldings hops from Eastern Europe (similar to the mild Fuggles hops from England, for you hopheads out there). Founders' Ale is not as nut-flavored or foamy as Newcastle Brown, nor as filling. Indeed, it is eminently drinkable. Hell, it's almost scary how easily this beer goes down. And at 4.8% ABV, let's just say the six-pack I "sampled" left a lasting impression. Founders' Ale 6-pack retails for around $9. For more info visit http://newcastlebrown.com/
One of the most impressive things about Guinness is that for over 250 years the company has stuck to churning out one, unaltered, high-quality product -- dry stout with its signature creamy head -- resisting the urge to try new things, which is so often born out of competitive pressure. Guinness just keeps on keeping on, and it's that dependability and commitment to its namesake Arthur's great vision that has made it one of the most popular and recognizable brands on earth. That Guinness has been doing the same thing so well and for so long is partly what induced me to visit the brewery at St. James Gate in Dublin a few years back (where I shot the video below). I'm a sucker for tradition. And great beer. Just think about it -- generations of brewers have spent two and half friggin' centuries dancing with the date that brung them, with very few exceptions. Guinness gives new meaning to the old axiom, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." So it's quite a big deal when they do introduce something different to market, as they did last month with Guinness Black Lager. Firstly, don't let the dark color fool you -- Guinness Black Lager has more in common with an outstanding pilsner like Urquell than it does the award-winning Samuel Adams Double Bock. It's not a light beer, per se, but it drinks easy. Something a Guinness lover can turn to when stout slows you down. This brew is meant to be consumed ice-cold, incidentally. And while there is a hint of that traditional Guinness dark roast taste, the crisp citrus and sweet malt flavors are what dominate that palate. For tradionalists like me, it's doubtless anything out of Ireland will ever top the timeless wonder that is original…
Vermont's funky Magic Hat Brewing Company brews good beer, and they've got a really friendly, participatory way of going about their business. I'm a longtime fan. So it was with great anticipation that I cracked open their Encore I.P.A., one of four great seasonal beers being offered in Magic Hat's Winterland Variety 12-pak. And what a delightful end to an otherwise ho-hum day that I.P.A. was. The Encore is what you might call a "bittersweet" brew, being that it is the offspring of a union between two diverse styles: an American wheat beer (sweet) and an India Pale Ale (bitter). It is brewed with Pale and Cara Vienna malts, the latter imparting a caramel aroma and taste that lingers on the finish. The hops used are beer-geek faves - Apollo, Simcoe and Amarillo. It gets its kick, though, at the end of the production process when it is dry-hopped with the Simcoe and Amarillo. Dry hopping is when hops are added to the fermenter or keg after fermentation. It lends the brew some pop. Not that this beer hits you in the mouth like a thug or anything. On the contrary, Encore is an extremely well-balanced sipping beer. And at 6.4% ABV I really do recommend you sip it. Again and again. The Winterland Variety 12-pak also includes: Ravell, a big porter brewed with vanilla beans and chocolate malts; #9, a dry crisp English ale; and Howl, a black winter lager. For more visit http://www.magichat.net
In teasing this little blog entry, I mentioned that I would be presenting the results of an exhaustive 25 year plus research project into Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer. The can and bottle label have hardly changed since the award of the blue ribbon, calling it “America’s Best” at the World Columbian Expo in Chicago in 1893. A lot of time has passed since then, and many drunkards have fallen prey to the dark malevolent powers of the amber fluid. I drink at what some of the travelling executives for Pabst Breweries once called “a shrine” to the liquid, located up here on the waterfront in Portland, Maine. Here are a few observations of that double-decade of debauchery. First off, the human body, particularly, the stomach, seems to have some vast repository of storage space for Pabst. The alcohol makes its way directly to the brain, and the rest is compressed throughout the body in what surely was the genius behind the idea of natural gas fracking. I’ve put away at least 7 pitchers of the stuff at a single sitting, and have no idea where it all ended up. The alcohol going to the brain part is the confusing part of the issue for me. Not only does PBR go directly to the brain, it seems that it focuses in directly on several logic centers of the brain. The first logic center it goes after is the part that controls the tongue. This beverage and its yeasty aftermath tend to make people shout out and mutter the dumbest, most vile shit you’ve ever heard in your life. I originally suspected that the genetic damage done to the brain is passed down through generations, and the end result is the Tea Party menace that we today are confronted with.
Back in December, the good folks at Newcastle Brown Ale threw me and about forty of my bestest buddies a swell holiday party at Ye Olde King's Head in Santa Monica. It was part of a campaign tied to a tradition in the U.K. called “Walking the Dog,” where exercising Fido is a front that allows you to slip out and enjoy a pint of Newcastle with your mates. At the King's Head a good time, as the old bromide goes, was had by all. And of all the beer brands that might have offered to throw me a party, I'm glad the one (and only one) that did was Newcastle. Because I like Newcastle. I like it a lot. Indeed, it ranks with Samuel Smith's Nut Brown Ale and Smuttynose Old Brown Dog Ale among my favorites in the category. (Note: Newcastle is owned by Heineken, and I'll also cop to being a fan of the crisp Heineken Light.) Once while I was traveling through England, a pub owner In Plymouth told me an interesting story about Newcastle. About a decade ago the company removed the word "ale" from labels in England, having done some market research that revealed younger drinkers thought ale was for olf fogies. About four years and a lot of money in printing costs later, they discovered the change hadn't affected sales in the slightest. So they slapped "ale" back on the labels again. This goes to show that market research is mostly a bunch of bullshit. Yeah, I said it -- bullshit. Overly analytical, expensive and unreliable. Make a good product, use common sense and sound decision-making, and you'll be alright for chrissakes. At least, that's my two cents on the matter. My final note about Newcastle pertains to the glassware in which it…
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One of the perks of my job is that people in the adult beverage business are always offering me stuff. It’s really quite nice of them. Take the fine folks at Newcastle Brown Ale, for instance, who came to me recently and asked if I’d be interested in hosting a Newcastle event for a bunch of my friends. “Sure,” I said.“Great!” they said. “How’s Thursday, December 16th starting at 7 pm at Ye Olde King’s Head in Santa Monica sound?”“That sounds lovely,” I replied. “What’s the catch?”“Oh, there’s no catch,” they assured me. “All you have to do is invite a bunch of your friends, show up, and have a great time drinking the Newcastle provided.”“So you’re just throwing a party for me and my friends for no reason? That’s awesome!”“No, no, no, no, no,” they said. “It’s not a party, it’s a TASTING. There’s a key distinction there that our legal department insists you acknowledge.”Gotcha!This par…er, tasting, by the way, was a smashing success. Upwards of 50 people showed up to enjoy endless pints of Newcastle. It was all part of a Newcastle campaign tied to a tradition long cherished in the U.K., “Walking the Dog.” While it may sound like a mundane task of suburban conformity, the phrase is being used an excuse to slip out and enjoy a pint of Newcastle with your mates. Indeed, Newcastle fans are apparently forming “dog walker” clubs all over the country. Who knows, maybe our little gathering will lead to the formation of a kennel club here in LaLa. Cheers!
Thursday, 19 February 2009 09:40
The Idiots' Guide to Sightseeing in Southwest England and Wales
Written by Terry Sullivan
Sheep, very short men with pug noses and great bellies, beer, sheep, extremely narrow roads, sheep, beer, ruined castles, sheep, beer, sheep, wild ponies, sheep, moors, beer, sheep, pubs with very low ceilings, sheep, hedges, beer, dry stone walls, sheep, golf courses, sheep, lamb chops, sheep, monasteries, beer, and sheep. Some of the sheep will be dead, of course. I mentioned to Trevor, my driver through the Dartmoor, where the wild ponies roam, that there seemed to be an awful lot of sheep just standing in the middle of the road, looking curiously at the passing cars. “Do they always stand in the road like that,” I asked. “Oh, no. At night, when the tarmac holds the heat better than the moor, they lay down in the road to sleep.” There’s some who hold the theory that the origin of “pub crawl” dates to the early days of the automobile in these parts, when the return from the pub meant a long, slow crawl around the sleeping sheep in the road. The wild ponies on the same moor are generally smarter, just, than the sheep. They wait alongside the road for the traveling Americans to come up to them and pet them. “Then, likely as not, they bite their fingers off,” Trevor said. Which made me feel better about the autumn round-up, when that year’s crop of ponies are gathered and sold—some to become pets/cart pullers to the children of country gentlefolk and the rest, according to Trevor, “bought and sent to France.” “To pull carts through picturesque Normandy villages?” I asked. “Well, no,” he said. Oh. Poor ponies. On the other hand, if they’re going to bite off vacationers’ fingers ...
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The great statesman Ben Franklin once opined that beer is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy. And a hearty "Amen, Ben" to that! But what do most people who aren't Ben Franklin really know about beer besides that it makes you feel good and has been known to induce a phenomenon known as belly swelling? Well I, for one, know a thing or two about it... or, at least I know a thing or two about how to look up a thing or two about it on the Internet. Here, then, a pocket guide to beer (assuming you have either a PDA or a very tiny computer that fits in your pocket). All beers are brewed, but not all beers are brewed exactly the same way. The brewing process is all about mixing starches – usually malted barley, but sometimes stuff such as wheat and corn — with hot water, converting it into a wort, then fermenting it with yeast so that it magically turns into the stuff that makes Homer Simpson swoon.
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