Cask Ale Part I: In my younger and more formidable years….

I remember the first time I actually truly appreciated F. Scott Fitzgeralds The Great Gatsby.   I had read it twice before, but I was just absorbing the words.  A high school teacher had forced me to read it at one point during my freshman year, and I tried to read it on my own again as a junior in high school.  But at that time i was knee deep in first time experiences with drugs, drink, and all that the female population had to offer.  In fact, It wasn’t until the summer after my senior year, sitting on the beaches of the Outer Banks, that I felt that The Great Gatsby  had finally decided to tell me everything it had to tell.  Maybe it was the fact that I understood the history and culture of the roaring 20’s by then, or maybe I’d come to understand human nature and materialism in a more mature and realistic way.  Or maybe it was the fact that I was super high that whole summer.  But whatever it was, I fell in love with that book and with F. Scott Fitzgerald.  In fact, after Gatsby, I read everything by him that was ever published.  And after reading everything by Fitzgerald, I read every piece of great (or what I thought was great) literature I could get my hands on.  In case your wondering, I still do this.  In other words, I fell in love with the written word.  Those who suffer from the same affliction (it is an illness, by the way) know that it’s a terminal illness.  Destined to be with me for the rest of my life.  

Well I came to cask ale the same way I came to Gatsby.  Somewhat reluctantly.  I thought the first few pints were too warm.  I thought the next few were under carbonated.  It didn’t make sense to me,  I thought it was an outdated, nonsensical, and gimmicky way of serving beer, meant only for the likes of people like the late great Michael Jackson and Charlie Papazian.  I thought it was boring.  But then it happened.  My Gatsby for cask ale was a pint of Avery Brewing Company’s IPA, served on cask, through a beer engine.  It was a life altering experience.  Hop aromas presented themselves in a way they never had before.  Malt flavors lingered just a little bit longer.  The drink-ability was amazing (i realized this during my third pint).  It took an American IPA, heavily hopped, bursting with citrusy American hop aromas, to turn me towards this traditional method of conditioning and serving beer.  (Historically, the majority of cask ale would be found in England, and the beer pouring from the engine or faucet would be an English ale of some sort).    I was hooked on Real Ale. 

Coming up in the next post, Cask Ale Part II:  What Exactly is Cask Ale and Where is it Going in America?

Published in: on July 18, 2008 at 11:51 am Comments (0)
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Beer and Food

In light of the following comment by Bob Skilnik, who publishes this website: beerinfood.com and this blog: beerinfood.wordpress.com , I’ve decided to edit this post:

In response to the following passage from the beerandnothingness blog:

I was ready to punch him in the fuckin’ throat. At the very least, I thought I was destined to make a scene at the house of my long time family friends. I could see myself saying something along the lines of: “are you an absolute fucking idiot?

Bob Skilnik wrote:

When’s your 10th birthday?

It’s only beer, for Christ sake.

I actually think Bob was right about the sophmoric and juevinile phrase about punching my family friend in the throat.  I was merely trying to express my frustration at a beer loving chef’s innability to see beer as a viable participant at the dinner table.  And I missed the mark.  I’ve edited the post in response. 

But I do disagree with Bob on the only other thing he said.  “It’s only beer, for Christ sake.”   I stand by my tendency in all my posts to take beer seriously.  I don’t think I even need to justify myself here.  Obviously, I’d never hurt anyone over beer, but I do think it’s an extremely important part of many people’s lives (particularly those who derive their lively hood from it). 

In the end, what I’m most confused about is the fact that Bob has written at least 2 books about beer, written articles about beer, been interviewed about beer countless times, yet still can say something like “It’s only beer, for Christ sake.”  (I’m assuming he picked up on the fact that I didn’t really want to punch my friend in the throat, call him an idiot, and then box his ears, but rather was making a point about my frustration (rather unsuccessfully, as I’ve already admitted to above)).   I’m assuming he meant that I should get over my frustration that a majority of the professional culinary world doesn’t want to see beer paired with good food on any sort of regular basis.  That’s probably not going to happen regardless of what Bob says.

So here it is, the updated post.  The edited part makes up the enirety of the second paragraph.  And i know “it’s just beer, for Christ sake,” but i did feel like boxing his ears, so I left that part in. 

A couple of years ago I was back in the town I grew up in, visiting with some old family friends.  We were drinking.  Heavily.  Mostly beer.  And mostly good beer.  They were well aware that I worked at craft brewery and in fact, actually liked good beer themselves, so they made sure their fridge was full of local craft beer.  There was a bunch of beer from the Great Lakes Brewing Company, a brewery that’s been making great beer in the Midwest for years.  One the sons of this family had graduated from culinary school a year ago, and was now working as a chef.  He seemed to be the most passionate about the beers we were drinking, even commenting on flavor profiles and aromas.  This was exciting for me.  Here was a trained chef who truly appreciated quality beer.  It seemed that he even took it seriously.  In other words, he didn’t just drink beer because it was his preferred method of inebriation.  It seemed as though he drank craft beer because he appreciated the work and attention that went into making that beer.  It appeared as though he found depth and beauty in the aromas and flavors that can be found in well made beer.  For all I know, maybe he did.  But I stopped paying attention to him shortly thereafter.  What could possibly cause this change of attitude in me?  I’ll tell you what.  I asked him if he ever thought about doing beer dinners at the restaurant he was currently working at, and he actually laughed at the suggestion.  His reply was something along the lines of “no, no. I like beer.  But good food should be paired with wine.” 

I was upset.  I thought I was destined to make a scene at the house of my long time family friends.  I could see myself saying something along the lines of: “Seriously?  How, after tasting all the beer that you have, could you totally disregard the possibility of beer complimenting good food, or more importantly, good food complementing good beer”?   After I quelled my desire to box his ears, I replied with a casual “Well, to each their own.”  I couldn’t cause a scene here.  Plus, I knew this guy, and i knew he wouldn’t last long in any particular career.  He wouldn’t be around long enough to spread his nonsensical disregard for the wonderful marriage of food and beer. 

One of my biggest pet peeves is the fact that alot of people who are really into food (aka foodies and chefs), do not take beer seriously.  It’s not that they won’t drink it, or they don’t appreciate it, but many of them would never think about pairing it with their favorite meal.  They’ve acquired and come to embrace an archaic and naive culinary ideology which prevents them from even considering beer as a pairing option with anything other than buffalo wings and burgers.  In my opinion, it’s purely ideological. 

I can only hope that eventually, someone influential in the culinary world will realize how versitile and compatible beer is when it comes to pairing it with food.

Published in: on July 8, 2008 at 1:19 am Comments (1)
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Beer Advocate and Rate Beer

I can’t help but wonder if, years from now, some historian will credit Beer Advocate and Rate Beer with being major contributors to the success of the craft beer industry following the 90’s.   It certainly wouldn’t be the first time hindsight has shown us how much we don’t understand in the present.  Craft brewers are often praised in the media for creating aggressive, ambitious, esoteric brews that take beer to new levels.  And they should be praised.  Much of the beer being created today is defining what craft beer is and what it will be.  And alot of it is flat out amazing. 

But that amazing beer needs to be consumed.  It needs to be consumed on a “mass” scale or else it risks becoming irrelevant.  The term irrelevant seems harsh, i know.  But commercial beer created for the masses that is never consumed is irrelevant.  It doesn’t full fill it’s purpose or potential if it’s never consumed.  It might be a great Double IPA.  It might be amazing ale aged in a rare barrel.  But if it never finds it’s way down the throat of a beer drinker, it’s pointless.   More importantly, (and more realistically) if that beer doesn’t find it’s way into someones fridge, the people brewing, packaging, and selling that beer may be out of a job.  In short, the craft beer industry only exists because of it’s consumers. 

Those consumers thrive and grow on websites like Beeradvocate.com and Ratebeer.com.  Communities have been created based on an underlying mission to seek out and promote the best beers in the world.  People on these sites are enthusiastic about brewers who push the limits of what beer can be.  They also applaud those who make solid, drinkable beer that falls into historical guidelines.  They create buzz about new beers on the market that not even the well paid marketing teams for the macros could create.  I could probably spend 10 paragraphs listing the ways in which websites like beeradvocate.com and ratebeer.com have helped the craft brewing industry, but who has time to do that. 

Ultimately, time will tell.  But if I had to write a book about the history of craft beer between the years of 2000-2008, Beeradvocate.com, Ratebeer.com, and the craft beer culture they have helped to create, would certainly take up a good portion of the pages.  Without people to drink it, craft beer has very little meaning.

Published in: on July 6, 2008 at 2:51 pm Comments (0)
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An Existentialist Approach to Beer Drinking

I faintly remember the first time I ever had a beer from Pizza Port Brewing Company.  It was at the Great American Beer Festival about 5 or 6 years ago.  I waited with my band of beer geeks in what was an absurdly long line consisting almost soley of more beer geeks.  Just to give you an idea of the vibe, many of the beer geeks (i can only assume) would probably slap a baby for a taste of Pizza Port’s beers, if that’s what they thought it would take.  When I finally got to the front of the line, I ordered an IPA.  I got my ounce of beer and tried to get away from the gaggle of geeks, partly to escape the chaos, but mostly because I didn’t want to see any babies get slapped .  Standing there with my own beer geek friends, I felt as if I was about to partake in a world altering experience (at least in terms of my perception of what beer was and what it could be).  I imagined it would be something akin to the first time I took acid.  In fact, I almost felt obligated to make myself experience something special.  Because this is what I was told should happen.  This is what I read should happen.  So, standing amongst my beer geek friends, all of us geekily warming our beers with our hands, swirling our beers, and examining the aromas emancipating from the Pizza Port nectars in our glasses, I drank. 

And it was good. 

But certainly not world altering. 

Certainly not as cool as acid.  But good. 

Had I come to the beer on my own, without the influence of beer geeks and websites, the beer drinking experience might have been totally different.  The beer wasn’t existing on its own.  Rather, it existed in a haze of personal accolades, rave reviews, and a cult following.  The beer wasn’t independent of any of these things at this particular moment in time.  I questioned myself as I tasted the beer because I expected something amazing and surreal and instead just had a sip of a well made India Pale Ale.  A well made IPA should have been enough to make me happy, but instead, I had the reputations of the beer to deal with while I tried to enjoy it’s flavors and aromas.  I didn’t realize what was going on back then, but out of some sort of need to catagorize beer based on quality, and in an attempt to provide some sort of connection with the beer comunity,  I had created in my mind a “beer heaven” of sorts where only certain supreme beers exisisted.  It made life as a beer geek simple.  A beer could be good and a beer could be bad, and there was always thousands of people to confirm either. 

But it missed the point entirely.  The major problem was that I wasn’t letting myself settle on the fact that the beer could still exist without the praise from beer geeks, without positive beer ratings and reviews.  In fact, beer flourishes when it’s approached and enjoyed from the standpoint that it exists only as beer.  Not beer that has been reviewed, rated, or praised. 

In the end, I came to the conclusion that if I want surreal out of something I ingest, I’ll just take acid again.

Published in: on July 5, 2008 at 8:07 pm Comments (0)
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