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Actual Diary entries

Dux de Lux ‘Sou’wester’ Stout & Three Boys Pils

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Dux de Lux Souwester & Three Boys Pils
Dux de Lux Souwester & Three Boys Pils

Verbatim: Dux de Lux ‘Sou’wester’ Stout. The Dux was nominated in the “Best Pub” category this year at the bar awards, and so was a certain little pub in which this photograph was taken. But the Dux won. And they brew. Fairly well. The Stout isn’t nearly as smooth as the Emerson’s or the Pitch Black; it’s a lot ‘livelier’ where the other two (especially the Emerson’s) go silky. This may well be Your Thing. It’s not quite mine.

And Three Boys Pils. A not-well-enough-known microbrewery from Christchurch (and so a fellow survivor of that Blight on the Universe, with Dux de Lux), and home to a similar range of uniformly better beers, I say. The Pils is a solid lager offering, with a good deal more presence and punch — and altogether more Interestingness than Dux Lager (just for instance). Closer to the lagers most people are used to than the Emerson’s would be, but conspicuously head, shoulders, and Big Tall Green Bottle above the Heinekens and Steinlagers of the fridge.

Actual Diary entries

Invercargill ‘Pitch Black’ Stout

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Invercargill 'Pitch Black', handpulled
Invercargill 'Pitch Black', handpulled

Verbatim: Invercargill Brewery ‘Pitch Black’ Stout. Again from the hand pumps at Old Malty, and in many ways one step further down Black Beer Boulevard from the aforementioned (and aforedrunken) Tuatara Porter. Bigger, darker, and stouty, basically. But still (I think) fairly accessible. Something of a favourite for a few of my female friends. But that might just indicate my peculiar taste in female friends. Who knows?

Afterthoughts, November 2010: Here’s a very-minor example of a common rebellion, with me; I’ll have absolutely no part of this frequent talk of what might be a ‘girly beer’. I just know too many exceptions in both directions (girls who drink “non-girly” beer, and non-girls who drink “girly” beer) and am too-easily bored by blokey sexist blahblahblah to tolerate it much.

Also, the whole question of what divides ‘stout’ from ‘porter’ is a controversial one, despite my breezy invocation of a commonly-understood difference, above. I’ve always had it in my head that stouts will tend to be drier and coffee-ish-er, while porters will tend towards the sweeter and chocolatey-er end of the spectrum. Apparently, though — just like all other putative distinctions — that’s not really very historical of me. Martyn Cornell has written a pretty damn definitive account entitled ‘So what IS the difference between porter and stout?’, which — spoiler alert — basically concludes: there isn’t one.

Beer history is tricky like that. And I’m just going to keep on using my non-historical terms anyway. I’m stubborn like that.

Actual Diary entries

Tuatara Porter

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Tuatara Porter
Tuatara Porter

Verbatim: Tuatara Porter. A quiet little achiever, this one. On hand pump at das Malthaus, and so lovely and smooth and, well, flat. A nice way to ease yourself (and others) into drinking dark beer, it’s subtly coffee-ish and toast-ish and slightly chocolatey. A surprisingly good pre-lunch pint, too.

Afterthoughts, November 2010: After a long run of having the Tuatara IPA as my habitual after-work drink (roughly around the time of this ‘entry’), I think the porter has eventually become my favourite of the range. Especially on the handpull at work.

And in the background there is the deliciously nerdy fivethirtyeight.com (now deservingly subsumed into the New York Times webpage). I do love watching politics unfold, and am definitely fond of actual data, rather than talking heads wobbling their faces and venting their half-baked opinions. FiveThirtyEight and (the earlier, but somewhat more basic) electoral-vote.com thus necessitated that we be armed with a laptop as we watched the election. We did get some funny looks, but we also started a trend; just this week at the pub, people were gathered around, just as we were, to watch the American midterms. The most-recent local national election was up on the big screens, too — despite the result, there, it was nice to have something playing other than sport upon sport upon sport.

Actual Diary entries

Emerson’s Pilsner

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Emerson's Pilsner
Emerson's Pilsner

Verbatim: Emerson’s Pilsner. The other organic offering from Emerson’s (together with the previously-noted Oatmeal Stout) so they made something of a nice pair as First Drinks for George and I, having installed ourselves early in the pub.

The Pils is a slightly-hazy glowing gold, with a very white-winey kind of a feel to it; nice and complex, drawn-out flavours. Not as sharp or as dry as a pilsner might often be, but in this case, all the better for it.

Afterthoughts, November 2010: Very rare, even for a ‘Lazy Facebook diary entry’ that I’d take a snap and have a wee ramble about someone else’s beer. But there you have it. I guess it was out of pure enthusiasm for this delicious stuff. I hope you understand.

Actual Diary entries

Emerson’s Oatmeal Stout

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Emerson's Oatmeal Stout
Emerson's Oatmeal Stout (overseen by Wolf Blitzer)

Verbatim: Emerson’s Oatmeal Stout. This is how I started my day, at 10.00am, watching CNN for coverage of the U.S. Presidential Election. As we all know by now, the Good Guy won.

It pours as absolute darkness in a glass, and is ludicrously smooth to drink, with a great big chocolatey afterglow that tickles the brainstem a few moments after each sip. If Barry White were a beer, this may well be him.

Afterthoughts, November 2010: That line about Barry White was very useful. I tend to describe beers very idiosyncratically — I’m much more of the impressionistic style than the fine-detailed sound-like-a-wine-wanker sort. (Though the latter does have its place.) I loved this beer, and recommended it by saying that it was Barry White reincarnated in beer form; big, black and deeply sexy.

And yes, past tense; “was very useful”, “loved this beer”. Emerson’s sadly ‘retired’ this beer, and I mourned. You suspect I’m not even being metaphorical, don’t you? Well done.

Actual Diary entries

Founders ‘Generation Ale’

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Founders 'Generation Ale'
Founders 'Generation Ale'

Verbatim: Founders Generation Ale. An all-organic brewery, and organic farming/whatever is something about which I could not give a toss. So: no points on for that, from me. But: indifference also means no points off. Provided the beer is good.

And the beer is good. Straight up and down nutty brown ale. Which develops some fairly serious nuttiness (in a good way) by the time you’re done with a half-litre of it. But it’s smooth and satisfying and uncomplicated.

Afterthoughts, November 2010: Founders Brewery is another one of those ones with a strange relationship with the apostrophe. The labels say ‘Duncans Founders Brewery’, which seems to me to need at least one apostrophe, somewhere. Maybe there needs to be a Good Use of Grammar and Punctuation certification regime, like there is for all this organic produce malarky. Since Founders were the first Australasian brewery out of the gate on the organic front (the number is now approximately oodles), maybe they’d be willing to take the lead, here, too.

Actual Diary entries

Harrington’s ‘Big John Special Reserve’

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Harrington's 'Big John Special Reserve'
Harrington's 'Big John Special Reserve'

Verbatim: Harrington’s ‘Big John’ Special Reserve. Something relatively random that George apparently forgot he’d picked up somewhere along the way. It’s a strong dark ale, matured in Bourbon barrels. As you can see, it pours with quite enthusiastic bubbles, and they definitely hold a very strong whiskey nose. Almost disconcertingly so; it just smells like a big glass of that, rather than beer. But the taste is refreshingly beery, and very smooth. Nice maltiness, chocolate roastiness, and a bit of a caramelly kick — like a great big melted Toffee Pop. Soaked in whiskey.

Afterthoughts, November 2010: From memory, the ‘Special Reserve’ bit came from the fact this was actually Bourbon barrel aged; the regular stuff is Bourbon infused, methinks. And it’s another great example of how some beers are tricky to pick, in terms of their official style. The RateBeer.com nerds have the former as a Scotch Ale and the latter as a Dunkler Bock. If I had to put a sum of my own money on it (or, more to the point, if I had to tag a blogpost one way on the other), I’d think the Bock guess was right; the body and the finish seem more lagery than aley, but we’re in pretty stab-in-the-dark territory here, I’ll freely admit.

Actual Diary entries

Renaissance ‘Stonecutter’

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Renaissance 'Stonecutter'
Renaissance 'Stonecutter'

Verbatim: Renaissance ‘Stonecutter’ Scotch Ale. Partially because of a long day, partially because it’d go well with sitting and finishing off a couple of books, partially because of the easier-going one I had in Melbourne, and partially because I didn’t yet have a photo of it, I had another one of these. And oh my god do I love it to bits. Absolutely huge malty fruity flavour to it. Big and dark and smooth and a little bit Christmas cakey, it hides its 7% booze worryingly well, and often proves itself surprisingly popular with the “I don’t drink beer” crowd, once we just plonk a taster in front of them and insist they have a go.

Afterthoughts, November 2010: The books, incidentally are, 1) Irreligion, by John Allen Paulos and 2) The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs. Both are utterly excellent in their very-different (althought thematically-related) ways. And it’s only just occurred to me that a beer named after the Freemasons-lampooning sect on The Simpsons makes an extra-good accompaniment to such reading material. Aren’t I (accidentally) clever?

Actual Diary entries

Emerson’s Dunkelweiss

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Emerson's Dunkelweiss
Emerson's Dunkelweiss

Verbatim: Emerson’s Dunkelweiss. I’d sold too many of these without yet trying one, and so went halves with another bartender. Very glad I did. It certainly deserves the “Caramelised Chocolate Bananas” notation on the label, and has a gorgeously smooth long-lasting flavour with a nice side of wheaty liveliness.

Also, note the ghostly apparition of our bar manager Scott, in the top-right corner of the frame. He showed up late to a long-exposure shot.

Afterthoughts, November 2010: It takes me ages to convince people that Scott really is visible in that photo. Even he had trouble recognising himself as a near-ghost, intially. Seeing-faces-where-there-aren’t-faces is an occasionally-hilarious thing, to be sure, but I promise you this one’s legit. Scotty ain’t no Virgin Mary, and the Malthouse wall ain’t no grilled cheese sandwhich.

Actual Diary entries

3 Ravens 55

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3 Ravens 55
3 Ravens '55'

3 Ravens 55 American Pale Ale. “55” because of five hops and five grains, apparently — and first made for the occasion of their fifth birthday as a brewery. It’s made from barley, corn, wheat, oats and rye — which makes me want to say that it feels more “American” at the expense of being less “American Pale Ale”. The grains do make for a really nice mix and a good full body, but they’re driving very much more than the lively American hops you’d usually expect. Possibly another case of peculiar branding of a beer that’s doing what it is doing very nicely, whatever it’s called.

3 Ravens 55
Diary entry #61, 3 Ravens '55

Verbatim: 3 Ravens ’55 American Pale Ale. 7/10/08 $3.5 @ Markets 5.5%. 5 hops + 5 grains (Barley, Corn, Wheat, Oats + Rye), so more American, but less APA: not hugely hoppy in the nose again. The grains make a nice mix, but drive more than the floral hops. Maybe our NZ hops are distorting our PAs. (Bottle cond.)

Afterthoughts, November 2010: This borderline-numerology stuff does crop a bit in brewing circles, actually. It seems a common trope to jig the number of ingredients, or the ABV, or IBU, or something to match some relevant number. I suppose that just shows you that obsessiveness and nerdery are common traits among craft brewers. And that’s got to be a good thing.

Meanwhile, that’s a terribly-focussed photo. The two strong beers previous must’ve blunted either my ability or my perfectionism, or both.