George (the gifter of the original Diary) organised a little tasting session at his house for a few friends of ours, with me playing the Informative Nerd. I’ll be the first to admit that I made them all run a bit of a marathon, but we hit most of the Big Styles, did some Interesting Comparisons, and had a whirlwind tour of the Long and Rambling History of Beer.
There’s a lot more variation in beer than there is in, say, wine or whisky, so a fairly zoomed-out overview can go a long way towards making people more ‘conversant’ in the basic styles, why they are what they are, how to figure out what they’re in for by looking at the bottle, and to help people discover what is (and isn’t) Their Thing.
I can’t help but notice, though, that I utterly failed to fulfil Jessie’s request / demand for a “super-awesome” Diary entry. I’m definitely more of an improvisational entertainer than an on-demand one — and that curry was seriously distracting. Especially after all that beer.
Verbatim: Beer 101 10/10/10 I have to write something super-awesome, says Jessie. No pressure. Tasting session & history lesson at George & Robyn’s, with Jessie + Simon + Pip. Great chance to get my nerd on, and evangelise to Robyn. We had: – Wigram Spruce Beer – Hoegaarden – Hofbräu Munchner Weisse – Köstritzer – Pilsner Urquell – Mussel Inn Golden Goose – Tuatara Porter – Invercargill Pitch Black – Emerson’s Bookbinder – Fuller’s IPA – Epic Pale Ale – Three Boys Golden Ale – Chimay Blue – Kriek Boon. And now, George + Pip have wrangled us a curry. Bloody marvellous.
An interesting contrast against their ‘Jaipur’ IPA (and a worthy thing in itself), ‘Halcyon’ is a fresh-hopped IPA of higher strength but lighter body than usual.
Its Best Before date had been set quite conservatively, to encourage people to drink up and enjoy it while that madly-fresh hoppy aroma was still good to go. With ‘proper beer’, it has to be said that Best Before dates become a bit of a joke — well-made beers, especially bottle conditioned ones don’t really go bad in the way that the relevant regulations seem to expect. Hop notes will fade over time, though, so these brews really are best enjoyed sooner rather than later. Save your Delayed Gratification energies for the malty ones.
Diary II entry #22, Thornbridge 'Halcyon' Green-hopped IPA '09
Verbatim: Thornbridge ‘Halcyon’ Green-Hopped IPA ’09 5/10/10 7.7% 500ml ÷ 2 w/ Amanda, who was shouted it at work. We’re flogging them like crazy since their official Best Before is fast approaching, but we all know what nonsense those things are. Lovely hazy pale golden straw with peachy highlights. So fruity and lush, even this far away from its Harvest season.
Diary II entry #21, Three Boys Golden Ale, handpulled
Three Boys Golden is an absolute favourite of mine. So after the heartbreak that was the Hopinated version of Twisted Hop’s ‘Sauvin’ Pils — another beer whose deliciousness is closely-tied to its simplicity — I was a little nervous to try this. Especially after Martin had some and found it a little sweaty.
But this modification wasn’t as extreme as biffing in a whole buttload of some superfluous flavour, this was a difference in delivery method — upping the temperature a tad, and losing almost all of the bubbles. The effect wasn’t as jarring, and I thought it moved the beer into the sort of very-pale English-style bitter territory occupied by Galbraith’s charming ‘Bob Hudson’s’.
Verbatim: Three Boys Golden Ale – Handpulled 5/10/10 on tap @ MH Another slightly-varied old favourite, so after Hopinated Sauvin Pils, I was pretty nervous. But I like this more. I think it winds up like a golden Bitter, like Bob Hudsons from Galbraith’s, maybe.
The New World supermarkets in Wellington are surprisingly-good places to find some seriously out-of-the-way beers. Amanda, one of our bartenders at work, was at their Thorndon store, found this, and generously split it with me. I was pretty damn chuffed; my particular fondness for good Australian beer is pretty well-known at work, and we had this one in particular as a random guest after the beer festival last year. It’s just uncomplicatedly delightful; rich and malty and balanced and plain yum.
As I promised myself in my notes, I did indeed bike there the next day, and came home with a backpack heavy with goodies:
Given the preponderance of heavy-hitters in there, it was pushing fifty bucks for the set. When I was putting them into a ‘Philbert’s Stash’ box in the fridge, Peter and I couldn’t help but notice that all of those breweries were named after animals — and that there was a distinctly canine trend among them. I guess there’s something totemistic about animal names, and they do make for easy logos.
Diary II entry #20, Mountain Goat 'Hightail' Ale
Verbatim: Mountain Goat ‘Hightail’ Ale 1/10/10 $? @ NW Thorndon, found by Amanda, who generously split it. 4.5% 330ml. I’m heading there on me bike tomorrow. MFing MG, man! Just as I remember it. Rich and malty and yum.
1: Tragically, I never got to enjoy this one. It was smashed in a unfortunate cascade of bottles in the chiller at work, one night. Godsdamn gravity.
For this year’s Big Import (after the success of it, and of the BrewDog swag this time last year, we really should make it an annual tradition worthy of Capital Letters), the Overboss scored an actual metric tonne of beer from Thornbridge, an excellent little brewery on a stately country property in Derbyshire. (Fittingly, I’m watching Antiques Roadshow as I write this one up.) Coincidentally, they’d just been featured on TV, in the (somewhat delayed) local airing of Oz and James Drink to Britain — the eponymous pair visit the brewery in the first episode, and Oz declares this ‘Jaipur’ IPA to be his favourite British beer of the moment.
That’s by no means an outrageous call, because this is pretty damn good. (And, of course, “favourite” is properly subjective; there’s never a need to get grumpy about what someone else might call their favourite.) It’s very fresh, fruity (peachy, I thought), incredibly drinkable and with a hoppy bitterness that rewardingly builds and changes as you make your way through it. One of those great, well-rounded beers that certainly deserves the accolades that zip towards it.
Verbatim: Thornbridge ‘Jaipur’ IPA 30/9/10 5.9% 500ml ÷ 2 with Peter as we nerd out on the end of the bar after work. $11 @ work; this year’s Big Import, basically. They (3 of them) were a sod to put away, but did well @ Beervana, and the brewery was just mentioned in James May’s TV Show (nice timing; must download that…). Gorgeous hazy pale orange, lovely fruity nose. Zesty and delicious, really. Quite peachy, too.
‘Ardennes’ is one of those beers that I forget about for ages, only to pleasantly surprise myself when I go back to it. In this case, I was cleaning out the fridge one night — as I do; I’ve turned it from a chore into a sport and an artform, and have dubbed it ‘Kegtris’1 — and discovered an unlabelled (and so unsellable) bottle. Since I’d recently had the Golden Bear ‘Bear Trappe’ and ‘Ardennes’ was a candidate for Hopinator treatment, we had a little sampling. Almost certainly inspired by the Golden Bear, my vote was for peaches in the Hopinator, but we eventually went with pears, which did go quite nicely. Part of the fun of these extra-stuff-in-beer experiments is seeing how they change over time, from subtle to sometimes overwhelmingly (but not necessarily unwelcomely) heavily flavoured, depending on the doubtless-very-complex chemistry going on inside that neat little gadget.
Peter and I did try actually eating some of the pears when he was cleaning out the Hopinator after we’d gone through our supply of Ardennes; that was a bridge too far.
Verbatim: Tuatara ‘Ardennes’ 30/9/10 6.5% 330ml ÷ 3 w/ Peter & Amanda. Ages since we’ve had it on tap and there was an unlabelled bottle in a delivery a while ago. It’s a hopinator candidate, and the Bear Trappe made me curious. And it’s really lovely, actually. Big, fruity, dry. I definitely think we should run it over peaches if we Hopify it.
1: A fairly-cursory Google search — a.k.a. “research” — does begin to suggest that I might actually deserve credit for coining this useful word. It’s possible that that’s mostly because I’m just about the only person in the world who enjoys the combination of a) prolonged exposure to zero degrees Celsius, b) heavy lifting (boxes ≈ 16kg, kegs ≈ 65kg), and c) a task that boils down to Organising Things Into Rows and Piles like some kind of gibbering compulsive.
I have to explain to people sometimes, at work, that if I compare something to Little Creatures Pale Ale, then I think that thing is a very good thing indeed. So I was curious to try something from White Rabbit, a new-ish operation outside of my beloved Melbourne, and sort of East Coast Cousin to the famous Creatures.
But when we had this at our stand at Beervana in August, I was a little meh about it. It was something of a misunderstood orphan, really. Unlike the Stone & Wood, Bridge Road and Coopers beers we had, the Rabbit didn’t have anyone from the brewery over to talk about it — and the name threw us locals a bit, too; by “Dark Ale”, they mean Brown Ale rather than anything Portery, or further South.1
In between having it at Beervana and having it on tap at work, my friend Glenn (a former colleague at the College of Surgeons in Melbourne) was in town and muled over a few interesting-looking bottles of beer for me, in what is becoming a neat little tradition (he’s repaid in Tour Guidery around Wellington’s Interesting Little Places). One of these was included, so I gave it another go. And was glad I did.
Diary II entry #17.1, White Rabbit 'Dark Ale'
Especially once you’re not expecting anything dark-dark (expectations can really do funny things to how you taste a beer), it presents itself as pleasantly rich but still nicely easy-drinking. Lots of malt character, and a interesting little sideline of a certain sort of mustiness and a subtle fruity wineyness. This bottle was almost-alarmingly sedimented, which also leant a nice big smooth layer of foam. It was interestingly-divisive, on tap at work; much of the Beer Nerdy crowd didn’t really go for it, but it was surprisingly good (given their usual prejudices against Australian beer and things darker than gold) at winning over more ‘mainstream’ drinkers. I do always enjoy stumbling upon effective ‘evangelism’ beers; seeing people have that ‘wow, this is tasty’ moment when you give them something that goes against their preconceptions is a very rewarding thing, as a bartending Beer Nerd.
Diary II entry #17.2, White Rabbit 'Dark Ale'
Verbatim: White Rabbit ‘Dark Ale’ 30/9/10 muled over by Glenn 4.9% 330ml From memory, this is Little Creatures’ baby brother in Healesville, outside the beloved Melb. We had it at our stand at the Beer Festival, but it was a bit of a misunderstood orphan, as none of its people were over. I was a little meh about it, but I think the name threw my expectations — it’s really a brown ale, and as one, is rather good. Quite rich but still very easy, a little musty and a little winey. Seems to be a national thing; Moo Brew’s ‘Dark Ale’ was also a Brown. Not a lot of Aussie Porter… maybe it’s just usually too fucking hot. I should’ve said MOO BREW ‘DARK ALE’. I’m not good at making new habits.2 This is definitely growing on me. The head is particularly impressive — big + smooth + resurrectable. (There was an almost-worrying amount of sediment in the bottle; that’ll help.)
1: This might be (or might be beginning to be) an Australian Thing; Moo Brew do it too with their ‘Dark Ale’. Maybe it’s just almost always Too Damn Hot for anything blacker and heavier — though of course, the delectable Coopers ‘Best Extra Stout’ is an obvious counter-example.
2: Perhaps I should explain why I chastise myself for not writing in capitals (here, as once before). They’re kind of like little visual hyperlinks, so that I can more-readily see what entries talk about other entries, basically. Things got quite hard to navigate with 300+ entries in Diary I — though I was still capable of occasional Rain Man-esque feats of spookiness like turning instantly to the page that contained the more-than-a-year-ago diary entry for Stone & Wood’s (delicious) ‘Draught Ale’ when Brad from the brewery saw my book and asked if his beer was in there…
Diary II entry #16.1, Twisted Hop 'Sauvin' Pils on the Hopinator
1) Kegs of Twisted Hop Pils arrive at work, and the people rejoice — I’ve said before that this stuff is a frontrunner candidate for All-Time All-Staff Favourite at work. 2) The Overboss announces his plan to run this through the Hopinator, overlooking at opportunity to just stick it on on a Friday night and likely blam through it in delicious short order — and the people get apprehensive. 3) It goes on, with the Hopinator loaded with Hallertau hops, and I try it shortly after. I certainly didn’t hate it, maybe because it reminded me of my beloved ‘Minimus’. Still, it seemed like it just would’ve been better as-is. Why mess with a Good Thing, especially with the Good Thing is that damn good?
Diary II entry #16.2, Twisted Hop 'Sauvin' Pils on the Hopinator
4) I try it again the next day. Which turns out to be enough time for the hops to really stew into the beer. And everything goes to hell, changing my mind about all the “it’s not great but” slightly-positive aspects. Instead, it’s now as if someone has presented you with a tea cosy made from the skin of your dead cat. It just reminds you of the cat, and makes you miss them — and, if push really came to absolute shove, you’d have thought there’d be better uses for a catskin, anyway.
I wondered if something lighter would’ve worked better (maybe white grapes, or the Sauvin hop itself?), but I think anything would have soon over-stewed and presented its own version of the Catskin Problem. Basically, taking a beer that is so remarkable and wonderful and lovely simply because it is such a deft touch of a thing and then ramming it full of some superfluous flavour is simply pants on head retarded.
Diary II entry #16.3, Twisted Hop 'Sauvin' Pils, as is
5) A week later, the next keg goes on, unmolested — and the people rejoice once more. Imagine… imagine if someone resurrected your dead cat. And then, they presented them to you in the morning, so you were still all groggy and confused, and initially assumed that you were just dreaming. But, no… there it is, just like you remember.
I suspected I’d like this; it was recommended by a few people who are usually good for such things (including Kieran, the Beer Wizard in Residence at Regional). But I was pleasantly surprised to utterly freaking love it.
Golden Bear is a tiny little brewery at the top of the South Island — an area charmingly-sprinkled with such neat little operations; it’s a popular area for people to go to drop out of the rat race and do what they love, instead — and a few such people do exactly that and start brewing. The chap from Golden Bear is Californian (the name comes from a symbol for the state), as is my friend and fellow bartender Halena, so I thought I’d split this with her after a shift (much as we’d done with a similarly-fantastic Sierra Nevada ‘Southern Harvest’). I had it all poured and photographed, and then had a minor freak-out when I remembered that I’d lost my pen that night and that all the spares seemed to be blue. I’m very much a Creature of Habit, to the point it borders on being problematic sometimes, and I was hesitant to give in and muck up the colour scheme of Diary II so early. (Diary I has its share of random-pen entries, so I do manage to sort out my priorities, eventually, but they always felt… odd.)
As you can see, it pours a very appealing hazy dark gold and has a pretty damn luxurious big thick white head that is easily resurrected with a little swirl when you’re further down the glass. And you definitely will be swirling it, because you’ll want absolutely all you can get of the insanely lush and fresh fruity nose — helped in part, no doubt, by the brewer’s clever inclusion of actual peaches in the mix. It is, to quote my notes, “just bloody lovely”; absurdly well balanced, delicious, and just different enough.
Diary II entry #15, Golden Bear 'Bear Trappe'
Verbatim: Golden Bear ‘Bear Trappe’ 2010 27/9/10 $17 @ Reg. 750ml ÷ 2 with Halena after a Monday shift. (The Californian connection again, after all, like with Sierra Nevada Harvest.) 7.5% Cute punny name, nice big-ass bottle with a nifty re-sealable plastic screwcap thing. Big strong Belgian tripel with actual “black-boy” peaches thrown in, rather than just waiting for the sometimes-peachy note you get. Just bloody lovely. Massive fruity + fresh nose, nice thick white head that’s easily resurrected. Neither too-sweet nor too-tart. And damn, am I glad I had a backup black pen; I was freaking out for a second, there.
Notwithstanding the time-travelling posts that appear before this one, I felt I should leave this mostly-default post in place, as a token of when the Beer Diary blogthing actually started. As I say in the About whatsit, copies of actual diary entries (wherever they were originally made, though usually in the notebooky diaries themselves) appear on here under their original creation dates.
But this should stand as a monument to t0, as it were.
