This is what Nick sees every morning when he goes to work in an undistinguished industrial park in Munster Indiana
An open letter to Nick Floyd:
C’mon, man. Share the stage a bit.
I know that Three Floyds’ recent ranking on Ratebeer as the number one best brewery in the world isn’t your fault — blame the average scores of the 3.5 million beer reviews by true beer aficionados on that site. But, world’s best for the fourth year in a row? And five out of the last six years? Give it a rest. Maybe you could turn out at least one crappy beer to drive your scores down just one notch.
How about a Miller Lite clone?
Certainly, there are other brewers in the region you could share that crown with. Hell, just one state north, in Michigan, Founders (Grand Rapids) and Bell’s (Kalamazoo) came in as the second and third best breweries in the world. Maybe you could give one of those guys a shot at #1.
Sure, your Dark Lord came in as the 13th best beer in the world. But you’ve gotta respect your fellow local brewers, like the guys at Goose Island. Yeah, they’re owned by Anheuser-Busch now, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that their Rare Bourbon County Stout came in 10 slots above your Dark Lord, as the third best beer in the world. (The best was from someplace named Westvleteren Abdij St. Sixtus … it barely counts, because the brewery name is too hard to spell.)
I do have bottles of Goose Island Rare Bourbon County Stout and the 2011 version of Dark Lord in my beer cellar. In a year or so, I might let you know how the two compare head to head.
And, Founders’ Kentucky Breakfast Stout (fourth best beer in the world), and Bell’s Hopslam (sixth best) also beat out your Dark Lord. Last spring, I had to jump on your website within the four minute window for the right to get tickets to purchase your Dark Lord, then wait in line a couple of hours at the brewery to get a measly four bottles. (It was a helluva party, though.) For the Hopslam, all I had to do was carefully time my appearance at the local liquor store and fork over $18 for a sixer.
Maybe you could let Pete Crowley have a shot at the limelight. His Haymarket Pub & Brewery (West Loop, Chicago) was rated #3 in the world among the 1,473 new breweries that opened in 2011. As far as brewpubs go, yours was beaten out by Pete’s Haymarket, and also by Revolution, in Chicago’s Logan Square. (Love the Scotch eggs at your place in Munster, though.) Look out, though, Villa Park’s Lunar Brewing is right on your heels.
Pete Crowley has fun with sanitation
So, please, give it a rest. I’ll make it worth your while. If you come in #2 next year, c’mon up here to Evanston and I’ll buy you a beer. Do you like PBR?
Here we go again.
There will be another batch of Local Beet beer coming out (it was Editor-at-Large Rob’s idea – blame him, not me).
We’re trying to figure out a way that you, dear reader, can sample some, perhaps in conjunction with The Local Beet’s upcoming anniversary.
It was late summer, 2009, that I made the first batch of Local Beet beer. I bored you by writing about that journey here, and here, and here, and here, and even here.
Fresh, in 2009, the color was pretty good.
I’ve kept a few bottles around. When it was fresh, the color was beet red (obviously). It’s now more amber, suggesting that the betalain pigments that give beets their deep red color degrade over time in an acidic environment like beer. Except for a slight beetiness in the flavor, you might think you were drinking a Scottish Ale – say, a 70 shilling heavy.
A few lessons I’ve learned. For one, there’s no need to mash the beets – mashing is used to convert malt and other grains’ starches to sugar for the yeast to nibble on; the sugars are already present in the beets. So I’ll just add beet juice to the secondary fermentation for the flavor and color.
For another, I learned that the true flavor of beets is based on a balance of earthiness and sweetness. Once you ferment something with beet juice, the yeast converts the sweet beet sugars into alcohol and carbon dioxide. The remaining pure earthy flavor isn’t especially appetizing. So the sweetness has to be added back. Adding sugar would just further feed the yeast; it would up the alcohol content, but wouldn’t add sweetness to the end product. In the 2009 version, I used aspartame (I’ve had a long professional relationship with aspartame). It’s not fermentable, but some people aren’t comfortable with that combination of naturally-occurring aspartic acid and phenylalanine. It did add the needed sweetness, though.
For this batch, I’ll be adding lactose. It’s a milk sugar; it will add sweetness, but beer yeasts will ignore it.
So, the 2009 version wasn’t good for people with phenylketonuria.
The 2012 version won’t be good for people with lactose intolerance.
And, by the way, both contain gluten from the barley used in the mash, so they’re not good for anyone with Celiac disease.
Hell, it’ll probably be too dangerous for anyone to drink. I just might keep it all for myself.
Beers really should be seasonal treats. There’s a reason most of the mainstream BudMilCoors products are called “lawnmower beers.” They’re light, rather flavorless drinks, but can be marginally refreshing on a hot afternoon, if water isn’t readily available. But they rarely have any flavors (despite football ads to the contrary) that you’d like to sip and contemplate.
Lately, though, we’ve turned to the season where all the landscaping firms are attaching snow plows to the front of their pickup trucks, and families are starting to think about how nice it would be to burn a few logs in the fireplace (high-rise denizens … sorry about the lack of real fireplaces).
It’s a time to sip, and a time to contemplate everything the season represents. So, by definition then, it’s a time for winter beers.
What is a winter beer? One easy definition is that it’s anything that has “Winter” or “Christmas” on the label. But typically, they’re darker beers, usually with a higher alcohol content than lawnmower beers – say, 6.0% ABV or higher. (The alcohol content is part of the reason these beers are often called “Winter Warmers.”) And if “Christmas” is in the name, or hinted on the label, the beer may be flavored with some of the same herbs and spices that might also be used for a mulled wine.
Is it just a gimmick to sell some different beers during the cooler months? Maybe, but it does have a historical precedent.
“In New York, and also in some other of the middle colonies, it was customary before the revolution, to have brewed a sufficient time before the holyday season to give it due age and strength, a large quantity of what they called “right strong Christmas beer,” so says The United States Democratic Review, Volume 3 , Making of America Project 1854.
And perhaps the tradition is even older. The holiday tune “Here We Come A-Wassailing” refers to hard cider with spices and herbs. But possibly even prior to that, ”Good King Wenceslas” in the 13th century restricted hops sales outside Bohemia, so brewers found all sorts of other herbs and spices to flavor their beers. (And, of course, beer was a drink of choice then, since, being boiled, it didn’t have the bacterial load that “fresh” water had in those days.) It’s unclear, but Wassail may have referred to beers then, too. (Thanks, beerhistory.com.)
Whatever the history, it’s a trend the craft brew industry has fervently embraced. So, strictly as a public service to you, dear readers, I forced myself to sample a random number of local or regional winter or Christmas beers. A few notes:
L to r Summit Winter Ale, Goose Island 2011 Christmas Ale, Three Floyds Alpha Klaus, Bell's Winter Ale, Leinenkugel Fireside Nut Brown,Goose Island 2009 Christmas Ale, Sand Creek's (Beaver Falls, Wisconsin) Lilja Sasquatch Stout
Chicago’s Goose Island’s 2011 Christmas Ale – a brown ale – doesn’t seem to be spiced much, but has a tan, short-lived head, and rich caramel flavors with a big mouth feel. It comes in at 6.2% ABV. According to the bottle, it’s ageable up to five years (which Goose typically puts on its better beers, but many may benefit from even further aging, as I noted here). In the eloquent evaluation of a friend, “Hey, this stuff is pretty good.”
Goose Island 2009 Christmas Ale – “dreams of Christmas past” – is still available at selected stores. It definitely demonstrates the value of cellaring a beer for a couple of years, with its rounded, rich, roasty flavors and light tan, long-lasting head. Goose tweaks its Christmas ale recipe every year, so anyone with four or consecutive five years of Goose Island Christmas Ales should contact tkeith@thelocalbeet.com immediately.
As good as those are, possibly the best of the area’s winter beers is – not surprisingly – from Munster Indiana’s Three Floyds. Alpha Klaus, described as a seasonal relative of its signature Alpha King, is an Imperial Porter, redolent with American hops, a light brown, long-lasting fine-beaded head, and a roasty finish that might last all night long, or at least until a Mr. Claus falls down the chimney. As a big, dark beer, at 7.5% ABV, it’s no wonder that Ratebeer gives it the rare rating of 100 out of 100 points.
On the other end of the scale, Kalamazoo, Michigan-area’s Bell’s Winter White Ale is a winter ale in a Belgian witbier style. That is, it’s a bit hazy, full of citrus and banana aromas, and relatively light and refreshing at 5% ABV. Worth checking out.
But not all winter beers as impressive as these. For instance, Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin’s Leinenkugel’s Fireside Nut Brown (“Beer with natural flavor”), now from MillerCoors’ Tenth and Blake subsidiary, has, to its credit, a dark, prune-y flavor, roast burnt aroma, but at 4.9% ABV it’s not enough to support the additional thin, flat, hazelnut character. They’re playing it safe.
Also, as they say, “beyond the Cheddar curtain,” Hinterland Winterland is a porter brewed with a subtle touch of juniper berries. A nice, dark beer without too much spicing (after all, it’s beer, not gin). It’s brewed right across the street from Lambeau Field, so this could well be the beer for fair weather fans who want to jump on the bandwagon of a football team that’s having a particularly good year. (As a life-long Cubs fan, I’m used to struggling through difficult times. I’ll struggle though this year’s Bears season, too.)
A few others … Local Beet fave Metropolitan had a holiday-spiced version of its Dynamo Copper Lager at Michael Diversey’s (670 W. Diversey, Chicago); there might be a bit of it left there, or possibly at other premium beer bars around town.
And, December 16 will see the release of Chicago’s Half Acre’s Big Hugs Imperial Stout. If you can wait in line at their Lincoln Avenue store (4257 North Lincoln Avenue Chicago), do it, otherwise visit the Blind Robin (853 N. Western Ave., Chicago, for its initial pouring on draft.
Let me know how many local seasonal beers I’ve missed.
UPDATE: Big Hugs Imperial Stout has been a big hit. In three days, over 75 ratings have come into Ratebeer, and raters are using language like “Tasted like crazy layers of citrus and spice, dates, fruits, chocolate of course, coffee, roasted perfectly,” “Deep roasty aroma with hints of coffee/espresso bean, silky chocolate malt, molasses, caramel, toffee and hazelnut. I’m also picking up some slight lactic cream, burnt toast and subtle hops, “ and “Overall, this is an intense coffee experience that only becomes thicker and more coffee-like as it warms. An amazing beer, I’m starting to become a big fan of Half Acre…” It’s received a rare rating of 98 out of 100.
I’m also increasingly impressed with what Half Acre is turning out.
Bah. Humbug. (Oh, wait, that’s for Christmas. I’m getting ahead of myself. Local Beet editor Rob asked me to write something about beers for Thanksgiving. Oh, well.)
I’m not doing much of a Thanksgiving this year. I’ll probably just go out to a restaurant (Lovell’s of Lake Forest) and drink wine, like everyone else.
But in an ideal world, I wouldn’t be like everyone else. I’d drink beer for Thanksgiving. (Well, I might have some food along with the beer, too).
And, in an ideal world, I’d have lots of friends and family over for Thanksgiving. Of course, I’d have a turkey, probably a heritage breed, like a Bourbon Red from Caveny Farm in Monticello, IL
And I’d probably get some cranberries from a grower near our summer place in Northern Wisconsin. (Did you know that Wisconsin is the world’s leading producer of cranberries?)
I’d skip the overcooked green beans with canned fried onions, and instead, maybe, serve some braised tat tsoi from Henry’s Farm in Congerville, IL (available Saturday morning 11/19 at the last-gasp of the Evanston Farmers’ Market at Immanuel Lutheran Church, 616 Sherman in Evanston). I’d make it with onion and Nueske’s Bacon.
So, I’m imagining an ideal world. Obviously, there would be beer.
Lots of beer. Many varieties of beer. Especially local beers.
Turkey can be somewhat on the bland side, but the Caveny birds have much more depth of flavor than your typical supermarket bird. A Great American Beer Festival Gold Medal winning 5 Lizard, from 5 Rabbit Cerveceria (currently brewed on the South Side of Chicago at Argus Brewery, at least until they build their own brewery) would provide the complexity of a Latin twist on a Belgian witbier, to go along with the complexity of the heritage bird.
Cranberries aren’t innately sweet, but their preparations usually involve enough sugar to keep many dentists happily employed, and to finance the yachts that they’ve recently had to put in storage for the season. There are two ways to go with this. You could contrast the sweetness with something truly bitter and hoppy, like Lincoln Avenue’s Half Acre Daisy Cutter or Munster, Indiana’s Three Floyd’s flagship, Alpha King. Or maybe you’d want to complement the sweetness with a Mild Winter From Goose Island. It has rich caramel malt and spicy rye flavors. Tasty.
The tat tsoi, without other additions, would have a subtle, slightly cabbage-y flavor. I’d match that subtlety with a köslch, like Krankshaft, from Metropolitan Brewing. But amped up with onion and bacon, you’d need something a bit more assertive and roasty, like Flossmoor Station’s Pullman Brown Ale.
For dessert? The obvious choice would be a fruit lambic, from Lindeman’s – cherry, raspberry, or peach. But a more local choice might be New Glarus’ Belgian Red or Raspberry Tart beers. (New Glarus beers aren’t officially distributed in Chicagoland – you’ll have to cross the cheesehead border to get them. Woodman’s in Kenosha [I-94, exit 344, east] is a good source.)
Or, now for something completely different (apologies to Monty Python), you might try a mead (honey wine) from Chicago’s South Side Wild Blossom Meadery.
It’s amazing how we can easily get so many beer styles brewed locally, and brewed well, in the Midwest.
Maybe it is an ideal world, after all.
The world is changing.
It used to be, you could create a craft brewery, and as long as what came out under your label was even slightly better than anything from BudMilCoors, you could be successful (assuming you could navigate the murky waters of distribution and retail or on-premise sales). Other than offering good beer, you didn’t need to differentiate yourself from anyone else out there.
In Chicagoland, we’re lucky now to have a surfeit of breweries. Some of the older guys, like Goose Island and Two Brothers, are still working off the old model – “We’re guys who are gonna make a bunch of different, interesting beers …. whatever we feel like.” And they do make outstanding beers. But do they stand for anything beyond than good beers?
I asked the brewmaster of another well-respected area brewery what his joint stood for. “That’s a good question … I don’t know.” You could see the puzzlement in his face. “Um, maybe classic beer styles well made?” He was asking me, not telling me. He didn’t know what made the brewery (again, a well-regarded one) special.
The new model, which I’m hoping will be more successful, is a brewery that stands for something identifiable. A brewery with a distinct personality. A niche. A brewery that, when someone asks about it, you can confidently say “Oh, yeah, they make great [easy descriptor here] beers.”
In the Chicagoland area, Three Floyds might have been the first brewery to assert a true personality. The slogan “It’s not normal” aptly describes Three Floyds’ generally over-the-top beers.
Since then, on the opposite end of the flavor spectrum, we’ve had Metropolitan introduce us to locally-made lagers — crisp, clean, and if anything, subtle in their complexity. Pipeworks is coming soon, to answer the burning question “how Belgian can Chicago brewers possibly get?
And that’s why it’s so great to see the emergence of 5 Rabbit Cerveceria. It’s all about a Latino approach to beer … and I’m not talking about that forever skunky Corona in the clear bottles.
Founders Isaac Showaki and Andrés Araya had no real background in actual brewing, although as management consultants based in Mexico City, they worked with a number of big breweries in Central and South America. And they’re smart management consultants. They recognized that craft beer is a fast-growing category. They wanted to be part of it. And they approached it in a very analytical manner — typical for guys with a background in management consulting.
The first question was where to set up shop. “In our countries, there are monopolies or oligopolies that control the distribution channels,” explained Isaac. “Small craft breweries can have a tough time. So we said, okay, let’s try to do it in the US.”
They set up criteria for the location of their cerveceria. “We had to find a city with a decent Latin population. We looked at Los Angeles, Austin TX, Chicago, Miami and New York.” They chose Chicago for its large Hispanic population, with a significant Latino middle class. “Chicago has a big craft beer scene, but it’s not as saturated as some of the cities on the West Coast. It’s also a city with a lot of beer knowledge,” said Isaac, citing Chicago’s internationally respected Siebel Institute of Technology, possibly the world’s leading institution for teaching the art and craft of brewing. “And Chicago has a great culinary scene.”
But there was still that sticking point – they really didn’t have much actual brewing experience. A serendipitous chance encounter changed things.
“We were at the Map Room (corner of Hoyne and Armitage in Chicago), researching Chicago, talking to people,” recalled Isaac, “and the wife of one of our partners started talking to [friend of The Local Beet] Randy Mosher.” Apparently, it was a revelatory discussion. “We had lunch the next day, and right away started on beer designs.”
Randy has long been known for his creativity in beer design, perhaps best embodied in his book Radical Brewing, in which he discusses obscure, orphaned beer styles, as well as beers made with unusual ingredients, like jaggery, quassia, bog myrtle, and sorghum, among many others. (I’m making a “Kentucky Common” beer now, based on his description in the book.)
It was Randy’s idea to make a Latin version of a Belgian witbier, using a bit of passionfruit instead of the common sour orange in the cerveceria’s 5 Lizard beer. And that idea, plus some other recipe tweaking, won a gold medal for 5 Rabbit at the Great American Beer Festival — an almost-unheard-of accomplishment for a brewery that had barely been open for six months. It’s one of the most fascinating beers I’ve had in a long time.
5 Rabbit production is still rather limited — currently, it’s made under contract at Argus Brewery, on the South Side of Chicago. But Isaac and Andrés have plans to build their own brewery within the next year or two. It’s distributed by Glunz, which is known for its impressive collection of specialty beer. So if your local store doesn’t carry any 5 Rabbit products, tell them to have a little, serious talk with their Glunz reps. You’ll be glad you did. And you don’t even need a Hispanic heritage to appreciate their 5 Rabbit, 5 Lizard and 5 Vulture beers. (More special edition beers are coming.)
If you’ve been able to try any of the 5 Rabbit beers, leave a comment and let us know what you thought.
October 6, 2011 – The Great American Beer Festival concluded last weekend. Results were another excuse for me to be a happy drinker in Chicago (or at least the Upper Midwest).
Six craft breweries in the region won the prestigious gold medal, signifying “A world-class beer that accurately exemplifies the specified style, displaying the proper balance of taste, aroma and appearance,” according to festival organizers.
Perhaps the most surprising, yet deserved, recognition went to 5 Rabbit, one of Chicago’s newest breweries (or, as it’s self-described, cerveceria). It won a gold for its “5 Lizard” beer in the Fruit Wheat beer category. 5 Lizard, designed by Friend-of-Local-Beet Randy Mosher, is a Latin spin on a Belgian witbier, using subtle levels of passionfruit instead of the more common sour orange. 5 Rabbit beers are still in limited distribution in the Chicago area, but they’re worth seeking out. (Check this link for stores and bars that carry them.) More on 5 Rabbit coming in this space soon.
Another gold for another newcomer went to “Angry Birds,” in the American Belgo-style Ale category. It’s produced by Pete Crowley at Haymarket Pub & Brewery. Like the Angry Birds game, Haymarket is a great way to waste a lot of time.
Other regional golds included the amazingly complex, slightly sour (in a good way) “Raspberry Tart” from New Glarus, (Wisconsin) in the Fruit Beer Category. New Glarus also won a gold in the American-style Black IPA category, with its “Blacktop IPA.” More gold went to Bell’s (Michigan) “Expedition Stout,” in the Aged Beer category, and “Autumnal Fire” from Wisconsin’s Capital Brewery as a German-style Dopplebock. Capital also won a bronze in the same category for its “Eisphyre,” an Eisbock.
As they say in late-night infomercials, “But wait, there’s more!” Like the silver medals won by Milwaukee’s Lakefront Brewery’s “New Grist” in the Gluten-free beer category, Emmett’s (West Dundee) “Where the Helles Gunner” Munich-style Helles, New Holland (Michigan)’s “Blue Sunday” Belgian-style Lambic/Sour beer, “Intercontinental Pale Ale,” in the category of the same name, from Flossmoor Station and “Munster Fest” German-style Märzen from Three Floyds. Frankly, I expected Three Floyds to do better.
Bronzes went to Two Brothers “Dog Days Lager” as a Dortmunder/Oktoberfest beer, “Dark ‘N Curvy” German-style Wheat Ale from Piece Brewery in Wicker Park, and two for Goose Island — “Harvest Ale” in the Extra Special Bitter category, and “Sofie” as a French or Belgian-style Saison. Frankly, I also expected Goose to do better.
In an ironic twist, GABF named Pabst, in suburban Woodridge, the Large Brewing Company of the Year. New owners are planning to move headquarters to Los Angeles and completely revamp the company’s beers and marketing strategies. The low-key, so un-cool that it’s cool, hipster strategy, which brought the Pabst brand back from the brink of oblivion, will likely be replaced by a “Babes in Bikinis” strategy. Draw your own conclusions. I doubt Pabst will be next year’s Large Brewing Company of the Year.
Overall, 3,930 beers from 526 breweries were entered into 83 categories. So, for expense or other reasons, some breweries chose to skip it, and other breweries may not have entered all their beers. Just another reason to keep seeking out the best on your own.
One of the hottest trends in beer these days is collaborations between brewers, and sometimes between brewers and chefs. We’ve already told you about an especially successful collaboration here.
Perhaps the best-known brewer-chef-collaborators is Jared Rouben, a former chef himself, at Per Se, one of the nation’s best restaurants, located in New York City. He’s now the head brewmaster at Goose Island Clybourn
But this article has nothing to do with Jared.
It’s all about Cleetus Friedman, the guy behind City Provisions (named Local Beet’s Restaurant of the Year). He loves his locally-produced beers. And most recently, he’s collaborated with Nick Barron, brewmaster at the award-winning Flossmoor Station, to produce a one-time-only beer, called Kirsch Von Blücher, a cherry-based dunkel weiss. “Cleetus named it,” said Nick. It’s a tribute to the 100 lbs. of cherries that were included in the 15 bbl mash. It’s also a tribute to Frau Blücher (if you’ve ever seen Mel Brooks’ film Young Frankenstein, you’ll get it). You’ll need to get to City Provisions (1820 W. Wilson, Chicago) or Flossmoor Station (1035 Sterling Avenue, Flossmoor, IL) soon, to try a sip. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.
So, what actually happens in a collaboration?
“We kicked around some ideas. We were thinking about doing a dunkel weiss [a dark wheat beer], and Cleetus suggested something with fruit in it,” said Nick.
“I was originally thinking about something with fennel and orange — a witbier,” relaterd Cleetus. “Or maybe something with a seasonal fruit. But I wanted it to be a beer with just a few notes of fruit to it.” So he didn’t want a candy-fruit flavored beer. And he got what he wanted.
He picked up 100 lbs of cherries from Seedlings, in South Haven, Michigan, and delivered them to the train station in Flossmoor. There, Nick and his partner-in-crime, Mark Weinert, added them to the dunkel weiss mash, and let them ferment out.
It’s an interesting beer, well worth trying. The beer isn’t particularly sweet (a good thing), but the cherry flavor evokes images of sweetness. The toasty, caramel notes, which you’d expect from a dunkel weiss, make it a fairly complex, very worthwhile beer
This is just the start of collaborations for Cleetus. He’s planning a series of monthly beer collaborations with other brewers; he wants to focus on limited releases, available primarily only at his joint.
And, he’s featuring hard-to-find products on sale at his place from other locals. For example, I noticed a couple of bottles of Evanston-based FEW distillery products (more on that coming soon to The Local Beet).
Go there. Eat, drink. It’s all good.
The Bastards are coming to Oak Park.
Check out http://www.sevengenerationsahead.org/index.php/events/oak_park_micro_brew_review/
Well over 30 breweries will be strutting their stuff at the 4th Annual Oak Park Micro Brew Review. They’re mostly locals, but Seven Generations Ahead and the Illinois Craft Brewers Guild — co-producers of the event — have invited a few interlopers, including a couple I sampled last week in Southern California.
For example, the 700-pound gorilla of Southern California craft breweries will be there in Oak Park. That’s Stone Brewing, which has a huge, corporate, resort-like facility in Escondido, just north of San Diego. Stone is probably best known for its many variants of Arrogant Bastard, an excellent American Strong Ale (7.2% ABV for the original version). To quote the brewery, “This is an aggressive beer. You probably won’t like it. It is quite doubtful that you have the taste or sophistication to appreciate an ale of this quality and depth.” That’s arrogant,
Speaking from personal experience, it is tasty, with rich caramel notes and citrusy hoppiness. Although, my significant other insists the beer was named after me (it wasn’t).
But that won’t be the only bastard in Oak Park. Founders Brewing, from Grand Rapids. Michigan, will likely be pouring its Dirty Bastard, a complex, not-too-hoppy Scotch Ale, and variants. It’s at 8.5% ABV, and its cousins, Sappy Slappy Bastard and Backwoods Bastard are even boozier, at 9.5% and 10.2% ABV, respectively. (Average lawnmower beers are usually in the 4.5% – 5% ABV range.)
This is definitely an event that calls for pacing, and downing plenty of water between beer samples.
Revolution, the Milwaukee Avenue brewpub, which will soon begin production brewing, will be in Oak Park, too. Sadly, their bastardized version of an IPA, El Bastardo, won’t be in attendance.
Possibly the most interesting part of the event will be Replicale — each brewery is asked to brew its version of a classic style — for this year, it’s an American-Belgian Pale Ale. At Stone, I sampled the Stone Cali-Belgique IPA, one of the rare Stone brews that doesn’t use the house yeast. (Yeasts can have a significant effect on flavors; Stone couldn’t achieve the same Belgian flavor using their house yeast.) It was fascinating, with estery, fruity flavors over the maltiness; hops are only in the background.
Every brewer who participates will make something in that style that comes out a bit different. It’s always fascinating to contrast and compare.
I won’t go through the entire list of participating breweries … that’s why I gave you the link in the second paragraph. But anyone who’s followed Hoppin’ Around (that would be only my Mom and one of my sisters) can get perspectives on some of the other participants.
Even in this down economy, nationally, craft beer sales are up 15% for the first six months of this year, versus the same period last year, on a dollar basis. So it’s a great time to be a beer drinker. Especially with all the great brews here in the great Midwest that will be on tap August 20 in Oak Park. It’s easy to reach, near the Harlem/Lake stop on the CTA’s Green Line, or the Metra Oak Park stop.
P.S. One of the producing organizations, Seven Generations Ahead, has a mission is to promote ecologically sustainable and healthy communities. SGA advocates for pro-active community solutions to global environmental issues, and works with municipal, business, and community decision-makers to promote green community development, clean, renewable energy, eco-effective products, zero waste strategies, green building design, and fresh, local, and sustainable food raised using healthy practices.
They’re good guys.
The bad news … I’m not yet a Cicerone. The good news … I’m one step away … I’m a Certified Beer Server.
What is a Cicerone, you ask?
Cic•e•ro•ne [sis-uh-roh-nee] (n.) 1. One who shows strangers the curiosities of a place or thing; a guide 2. A person with demonstrated expertise in beer that can guide consumers to enjoyable and high-quality experiences with great beers.
Clearly, the second definition is merely a subset of the first. And thanks to Ray Daniels, the second definition is the one becoming more common these days.
Ray Daniels is a Harvard Business School grad. He’s an expert brewer. He’s a senior faculty member at Chicago’s Siebel Institute of Technology (probably the world’s leading school for learning how to brew beer professionally). Among other books, he‘s authored the highly authoritative tome Designing Great Beers: the Ultimate Guide to Brewing Classic Beer Styles. He’s President of the Craft Brew Institute.
And in 2008, he started the Chicago-based Cicerone Certification Program – the first worldwide program specifically designed to qualify beer experts in explaining, serving, and understanding all aspects of all things beer. Roughly speaking, what a sommelier is to wine, a cicerone is to beer. It took a guy with Ray’s beer industry credibility to pull it off.
The Cicerone Certification Program has three levels of certification – Certified Beer Server, Certified Cicerone™, and Master Cicerone™. According to program administrator Sarah Huska, there are only about 400 Certified Ciceronenes currently, and only three Master Cicerones in the world. (Compare that to approximately 176 Master Sommeliers worldwide – a program that’s been in existence for well over thirty years.)
“In some ways, it’s a quality control program,” Dave Kahle told us. Dave is one of those three Master Cicerones, receiving his certification last October. “It recognizes people who can ensure the customer will receive the experience of each beer as the brewer intended.” With a very few exceptions, beer goes through a three-tier system – brewers sell their beers to wholesalers, who sell to restaurants, bars, or retailers, who then sell to the ultimate consumers. “Any one person in that chain can affect the customers’ experience in a negative way,” notes Kahle.
Kahle learned much of his beer knowledge when he owned a bar in Wicker Park, which had a strong beer program. But he discovered he had a talent for beer appreciation even in his early days. “As a kid, I remember my Dad offering me a sip of his beer. It was in a can out of the beer fridge in the garage. I remember thinking ‘Boy, that stuff in a can tastes metallic.’ ” His tastes have become increasingly refined ever since.
The process of becoming a Master Cicerone, like Kahle, is not an easy one. Even the basic online test for the first level (at Cicerone.org) – Certified Beer Server – asks highly technical questions. Some include the proper way to deal with fittings that attach a keg to a draft system, the correct way to pour beer and, after the glass is emptied, rinse it professionally, and appropriate hopping levels and/or malts for specific beer styles.
I should know about this stuff. As of last week, I’m the 5,988th Certified Beer Server in the world. Out of nearly 7 billion people in the world, that ain’t bad.
You could hang one of these on your wall ... if you know enough about beer.
(If you want to see if you could become a Certified Beer Server, Cicerone, or more, register with cicerone.org, and take a free sample exam.)
What is it about beer that makes otherwise relatively sane people want to wait in long lines?
I spent almost two hours in line to purchase four bottles of Dark Lord from Three Floyds (Munster, IN) about six weeks ago. Today wasn’t as bad – it was only about an hour in the line before I was able to purchase four bottles of Small Animal Big Machine – the new collaboration between Chicago’s Half Acre and Pipeworks, and Belgium’s De Struise breweries.
Long lines for Small Animal Big Machine beer
(The guys from De Struise have been making the rounds with their collaborations lately, including Shark Pants, with Three Floyds, and, with New Albanian, [across the river from Louisville in New Albany, IN], Naughty Girl, described as a “willfully disobedient India Blonde Ale.”)
Based on the small samples Half Acre was handing out to those who had been in line 45 minutes or more (including yours truly), Small Animal Big Machine is a very fine fruit beer, with red currant flavor up front, and a slight sourness contrasting with the inherent sweetness of the fruit and malts. I’ll pop open a bottle this weekend with friends, but the remaining three bottles (from my four bottle limit) are already down in the basement, next to my bottles of Dark Lord. Both should age well, and I’m confident both will become much more complex in the next year or two.
I have some of this. You probably don't. Now do you want to be my friend?
But what is it that makes people want to wait in long lines for a new beer release?
“Well, it’s a limited bottling, and you won’t be able to ever get it again,” said a new best friend who was two people behind me in line. I’m sure that’s part of it … but only a part. “Beer guys like to stand in lines … they enjoy the instant camaraderie” said another. I’m sure that’s part of the reason, too. But it doesn’t completely explain the phenomenon.
Certainly, people line up for the latest version of the iPhone and iPad, and people line up to be the first to see Hollywood’s latest drek, but those are all about being first. It gives you the right to tell friends “I’m really cool – I saw this (or I got this thing) before you did.” Those examples don’t have the added factor of the scarcity of the products that cause folks to wait in long lines. A month later you can still buy the same iPhone that people waited in line for.
Only about 1,200 22 oz. bottles of Small Animal Big Machine were made. It sold out by early evening, Friday. Almost certainly, everyone who bought a bottle spent at least an hour or so in line.
I should check with our Local Beet wine correspondent, Wendy, on whether or not new local wine releases generate lines around the block. I don’t think they do.
So, what is it about craft beers that generates such passion? Maybe some of our dear readers of the Local Beet can clue me in.
In the meantime, I’m opening a bottle of Small Animal Big Machine for myself Saturday night. I might let a friend or two have a sip. Or maybe not. None of them waited in line for it.
The glassed-in Garfield Park Conservatory (300 North Central Park Ave. Chicago, just off the Green Line’s Conservatory-Central Park ‘L’ stop) is a wondrous place. Think of it as the Lincoln Park Conservatory on steroids, with some of the most exquisite plant life on the planet. How could anything possibly be better?
How, you ask? Add beer.
Thursday, May 19, at 5:30 pm, kicks off Chicago Craft Beer week, and the kickoff event is at the Garfield Park Conservatory. With over 25 mostly local brews, and food from a number of acclaimed local chefs, this event, sponsored by the Illinois Craft Brewers Guild and the Garfield Park Conservatory Alliance, should be a good time.
I’m too lazy to spell out all the details, but if you want to see what you’ll get for your $40 ticket, follow this link:
http://www.garfield-conservatory.org/beer_under_glass.htm
There are some great breweries that will show up, but be aware that not every brewery is great. If you’ve been reading the beer articles on The Local Beet, you’ll know which ones may be demoted to your second-string list. But many of them are world-class brewers.
For example, I’ve recently been pleasantly surprised by newcomer Lake Barrington’s Paddy Pale Ale from Wild Onion brewery. Despite mediocre reviews, I found it to be a pleasant, aggressively-hopped version of an American Pale Ale. I found it to display a lemony aroma, pine, grapefruit notes balancing the malt, maybe a bit thin, with a rather frothy but reasonably full head.
I do find the Irish imagery on a can of American, British-style Pale Ale a little bit of a disconnect, though
If you can’t make it to Garfield Park, don’t fear – there’s plenty more going on all week. And for a $10 passport, you can get into them all. Check out:
If you look at the Google map on that site, you’ll see that most of the activity is downtown. But there’s one outlier, which, happily, is just a few blocks from my house.
Evanston’s Prairie Moon in Evanston (1502 Sherman Ave.) will host 4 events, kicking off the week with a special evening with the Evanston Homebrew Club:
• Thirsty Thursday—Homebrewers of the World Unite! May 19
• Firkin Friday with Arcadia Ales. May 20
• Great Lakes Brewing Company… Great Beer and a Great Brewer. May 23
• New Holland Brewing Company… Hell Yeah! May 25
It’ll be a great week for beer.
So there I was, Saturday, April 30, standing in a long line, in an industrial park in Munster, Indiana, with my friend Timothy (not his real name).
His real name is Tim.
We were standing. And standing. No, not moving … just standing.
We were there for Dark Lord Day – the one day a year that Three Floyds Brewery (the world’s best brewery) releases its highly regarded Dark Lord Imperial Russian Stout. For a $10 ticket, you are given the right to purchase up to four bottles of Dark Lord, at $15 each. (Those bottles are already listed on ebay for $40 – $60 each. Who says beer is an illiquid investment?)
And the $10 tickets were re-selling for $250 – $300 each, a day or two prior to the event. (Who says that beer geeks can do the investment math?)
It all started March 19, when my significant other spent almost three minutes constantly refreshing the computer screen to get through to order two tickets. (I would have done it myself, but I was on the way to the Local Beet booth at the Family Farm Expo that day). Tim’s wife was doing the same thing, except she made the fatal mistake of taking a short phone call. By the time she got back to it, all tix were sold out. Being the wonderful guy that I am, and the even more wonderful person my significant other is, she let me give Tim the ticket that would otherwise have been hers.
I did contemplate selling it, instead of giving it to Tim, for the ± 2,000% profit. But being the incredibly nice guy that I am, I just gave it to him, and now he’s eternally indebted to me (although I’m not sure he understands that concept).
So we were standing there, talking to others in the line, and occasionally cheering when we were able to move two or three steps forward. Two guys we were talking with were from the Detroit area, and had come for Dark Lord Day, but stopped off at Bell’s in Kalamazoo and Founders in Grand Rapids on their way over Friday. Then they figured out that their Munster motel wasn’t that far from Goose Island, so they spent much of their night on Clybourn. I thought these guys knew their beers, until one of them pulled out a Big Flats 1901 beer — custom brewed at the Genesee Brewery in Rochester, NY for Walgreen’s, in the how-cheap-can-you-make-it category. But at least he had the good taste to pour out half of the can.
Tim got a little crazy, pushing his business, even before he’d had his first beer (no one complained if one person got out of line to get a beer or three, but if you wanted to get back in line, you’d better be coming back with more than just one beer). But the Michigan guys were cool, and did a very good job of feigning interest.
The line was way down the block, but after about two hours, we made it up to the gate. It looked like we were within a few hundred feet of the entrance to the pub. We were, except the line was arranged in a serpentine fashion that would put even the most crowded airport security lines to shame. And the entrance to purchase Dark Lord bottles was around the corner and through the back of the brewery. Going through this part of the line, (a rather muddy lawn), I kept hearing, over and over, “Damn – this was a ten dollar shoe shine.” Tim, get over it.
Tim also let his “Golden Ticket” (which was really more black-and-gray) fall out of his pocket. I got a kick out of seeing the guy running over the lawn just to catch a little piece of paper.
Note the "Sorry" comment - I wasn't able to purchase one of four exceptional, extremely rare versions of the 2011 Dark Lord.
Three Floyds defines its vintages by the color of the wax used to decorate the bottles. For 2011, they claim it’s yellow wax, but we all agreed the color would be more accurately described as mustard. Three Floyds needs to get its act together on colors.
We got back to Tim’s place, had a great meal, then Tim opened one of his Dark Lord bottles. Incredibly rich, starting off with notes of coffee (Intelligentsia coffee is used in the brew), caramel, molasses, toffee, chocolate, not much hops, slightly sweet, and a bit of alcohol in the finish — although not as much as you’d expect from a 15% ABV beer. A complex, sipping beer, much closer to a fine cognac than a BudMilCoors. My only regret was that I was called away from the table for a minute, and upon returning, I found my significant other (who hadn’t even bothered to endure the lines), was sipping away at my portion of Tim’s Dark Lord. Next time I’ll remember to take my glass with me.
Meanwhile, I ain’t opening any of my Dark Lords for at least a year or two. (See Don’t Drink that Beer!)
Yawn.
Three Floyds, in nearby Munster Indiana, is the best brewery in the world for 2011. Out of more than 10,000 brewers worldwide.
Yawn.
That’s the same thing Ratebeer said last year, 2010. That’s what they said in 2009.
This is getting awfully repetitive.
It is based on nearly three million reviews – and some of these reviewers actually sound like they know something about beers.
For example, they also rated Revolution Brewing among the top five new breweries world wide to open in 2010. (Humbly, we’ll note that we predicted great things here.)
Grand Rapids, Michigan’s Founders Brewing moved up to #2, its Michigan neighbor, Bells ranked #7, and local fave, Chicago’s Goose Island, made it into the top ten. Among others in the region, New Glarus came in at #35, and Chicagoans Half Acre and Piece earned the #75 and #82 spots, respectively.
Goose also had a good showing for its individual beers. Overall, surprisingly, Goose’s Rare Bourbon County Stout edged out Three Floyds Dark Lord Russian Imperial Stout, coming in as the fifth and seventh best beers in the world respectively (although note that Ratebeer has a strong bias toward big, strong beers — 17 of the top 25 beers are Imperial Stouts, with the others all being similarly powerful beers). Founders Kentucky Breakfast Stout also made it into the top ten (#9).
Other notables in the top 50 include Bell’s Hopslam (#12), Founders Canadian Breakfast Stout (#14), Goose’s “Regular” Bourbon County Stout (#19), Coffee version of the same (#23), Three Floyds Vanilla Bean Barrel Aged Dark Lord Russian Imperial Stout (#35), Goose’s Vanilla Bourbon County Stout (#37), and Founders Breakfast Stout (#47).
So, I’m not yawning. It’s a great time to be a beer drinker in these parts. I’ve got my Dark Lord Day tickets, so all’s well with the world (well, maybe if your world is limited to the Western Hemisphere).
Full results can be found at http://www.ratebeer.com/RateBeerBest/?
Did you ever get a compliment that you thought you really didn’t deserve? Of course, you have to say “Thank you,” but in the back of your mind, you have to wonder, “What were they thinking?”
Which is why I question Esquire Magazine’s rating of Chicago as the best beer city in America. The beer scene here is certainly getting better, with newbies Metropolitan, Revolution and Half Acre, old standbys like Goose Island, Flossmoor Station, Three Floyds, Piece, Lunar, Two Brothers and even Mickey Finn’s. Not to mention new soon-to-open or recently-opened brewers like Haymarket, Finch, and Pipeworks.
But best beer city in America? Portland (actually both of them – Oregon and Maine) have more brewpubs and breweries per capita than Chicago. And Montréal (that’s in the North American continent, right? It counts as American) has a major beer scene. Vancouver, too.
So, at The Local Beet, we’ll accept the honor (as if Esquire cares whether or not we’ll accept it or not). But just wait … more great things are on the horizon for Chicago-area beers.
Drink local.
So I was talking with my new best friend, Igor, at a small bar in the Latin Quarter in Paris (gotta love that generous Local Beet travel budget).
“Zat Fischer Beer … eet iz craap.” he said, seemingly with authority.
I’d always thought Fischer was a pretty good beer. Even if it is a Heineken product.
With very little authority, I replied, “Well, if you really want a good French beer, you’ll have to come to Chicago.” I didn’t think Igor would know where Warrenville is.
He gave me a look that suggested, “You must be out of your mind.”
Post-hangover, it got me thinking. Could two brothers from Illinois really make a French-style beer that rivals the stuff they make in France? (It also begs the bigger question – what could those skinny, effete, wine-drinking, smelly cheese eating snobs that make up the bulk of the French populace possibly know about beer? That’s a question I won’t attempt to explore here.)
I had to do a blind tasting. So I assembled a random variety of French beers, and compared them to Domaine DuPage, a flagship brew from Warrenville’s Two Brothers Brewery. (It’s made in DuPage County, hence Domaine DuPage … get it?)
As it happens, my little brother was in town, so he joined me in this blind tasting. Mind you, his beer fridge is loaded with Bud Light, so you know where his taste buds lie. If he even has functioning taste buds.
We compared the Domaine DuPage to La Goudale (aka the Good Ale), self described as a “biére blonde å l’ anciennne” from Douai, France, northwest of Paris, the aforementioned Fischer Amber (from Schiltigheim, in Alsace), Gavroche, from St Sylvestre Cappel (near the Belgium border), Valmy (from the Champagne region), and Brasserie Lebbe l’ Amalthée, from the Hautes-Pyrenees. A pretty damn good assortment of French beers, if I do say so myself.
l to r, Gavroche, Domaine DuPage, Brasserie Lebbe l’ Amalthée, Valmy, La Goudale, and Fischer
So, scores. The biggest discrepancy between my tastebud-challenged brother and me was on the Valmy. He liked the hopppiness, I thought it was overly astringent. We almost agreed on the Brasserie Lebbe l’ Amalthée, liking the hoppiness and balance with the malts. The La Goudale was thin, bright yellow, not much flavor, and if anything, it was Budweiser-like (and no, that’s not a good thing). The Fischer had a stale taste, but getting past that, it did have a rich nuttiness. I guess, overall, I’d have to agree somewhat with Igor about the Fischer.
The winner? We’re really not trying to be homies here, but there was no question that the Domaine DuPage was the tastiest French brew. My little brother called its taste “rounder” than the others. I thought the rich maltiness shone through. It could be because the Domaine Dpage was fresher, and didn’t have to suffer a transatlantic boat ride (these are not high alcohol beers that benefit from aging.) The Valmy, though, should have been reasonably fresh, as it came over in my luggage from the market where we purchased it in Epernay, France.)
Other than the Domaine DuPage, I almost never agree with my baby brother about anything.
But these two brothers agreed that Two Brothers Domaine DuPage beats out a bunch of brews actually made in France.
Igor would be dismayed. That could be a good thing. Mon dieu!
