Reason for the Saison

I have yet to have a bad beer from New Holland Brewing Company in Holland, Michigan. Heck, I haven't even had a mediocre beer from them. They are somehow able to take any style of beer and not simply brew it according to specification. They make it come alive. Their beers just have that extra...something that make them stand out over so many other beers. Maybe it's the addition of a malt or a hop that nobody has thought of, or some new take on an old style. But I think more than that, it's quite simply that their brewers love their beers. As cliche' as it may sound, the love and pride these guys at New Holland have for the process of brewing comes out in beers that exceed my expectations every time.

We've established that I really really like New Holland.

Let's move on to summer. It's 80 degrees. It's sunny. Slight breeze. I'm on a patio. I used to love nothing more than a tart Belgian Wit or sweet and tangy German Weiss. But then, a few years ago, I was introduced to the Saison.

A French Farmhouse Ale (saison if French for season...this is a true 'seasonal' beer), French farmers would brew and ferment these beers very hot (80 degrees or so). At the end of a long day working the fields, they would quaff a bottle of the fine beer. Sweet, tart, citrusy, this is the ultimate summer refresher.

And now for the confluence of both things I love - summer and New Holland - I give you New Holland Brewing Company's Golden Cap Saison, available in your favorite beer mecca fridges right now!

Golden Cap pours a nearly-clear, slightly hazy crystal yellow in favorite pint glass (reserved only for the best beers). Loads of effervescence race to the surface and form a thick, fluffy pure-white head of foam, carrying with it all the best aromas this beer has to offer.

Delicious aromas of pepper, lemongrass and wheat dominate the nose. The interplay of sweet citrusy spice sits on top of a bed of floral hops making the whole beer a cornucopia of summertime scents. A slightly funky, yeasty character, just scant hints, gives the beer personality (and reminds you that this is a pure, unfiltered, true-to-style beer) so it's not all flowers and lemons. It's not a furniture cleaner, folks. It's a damn good beer.

Where lemons and spice dominate the aroma, a beautiful bready doughiness dominates the flavor. Biscuity malt gives way to tangy wheat tannins. The wheat then prepares your tongue for a stunning mix of soft fruits: pears, apples, peaches. Is that a tad of honey I taste as well? Honey-covered pears and apples? The alcohol bite yields a peppery spice, and the beer's flavor ends where the aroma started - tangy-sweet lemongrass. What an amazing journey through flavors.

Soft on the palate with a bubbly tickle from the aggressive carbonation, Golden Cap comes across as creamy and smooth. It's slightly dry in the back light body. What's not to love about a beer in the summer on a deck that tastes like this? Citrus, sweetness, bubbly, clear, and served cold, New Holland Golden Cap is the ultimate summertime refresher.

UPDATE

Title changed, for Bob.

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Nobody's Fool

First, a discussion of Real Ale can be found here. For the lazy, the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA) defines a Real Ale as

"beer brewed from traditional ingredients, matured by secondary fermentation in the container from which it is dispensed, and served without the use of extraneous carbon dioxide". The term "traditional ingredients" is designed, like the Reinheitsgebot, to prevent artificial preservatives or cheap adjuncts or chemicals from being used in the making or storing of the beer. The heart of the definition is the maturation requirements. If the beer is unfiltered, unpasteurised and still active on the yeast, it is a real beer; it is irrelevant whether the container is a cask or a bottle. If the yeast is still alive and still conditioning the beer, it is "real".

Just because, you should now go back again and check out CAMRA. It is the largest single-issue consumer group in the UK. Color me jealous.

I bring this up because today's beer is a Real Ale from Indigo Imp Brewery in Cleveland called Jester.

A real ale, as you saw above, is not so much a kind of beer as it is a comment on how a beer is fermented and matured. Thus, a brown ale can be a real ale, a stout can be a real ale, etc. Indigo Imp's Jester claims to be a Belgian Pale Ale (a classic example of this style is Trappist Westvleteren Blonde or the even better Orval Trappist Ale). While I have a hard time comparing any Belgian Pale to the likes of Orval, there is at least a solid set of criteria with which to judge Jester.

Like a good Belgian Pale, I got a glass full of a pale copper, slightly cloudy brew capped with a thin eggshell-white head, not dense but indeed thick with bubbles. Light effervescence floated up the middle of the glass, dissipating the head quickly but leaving a fine lace across the top of the beer. As beer goes, you do taste with your eyes first and this had all the right looks.

Biscuity malt and tart citrus aromas were what I was hoping for, and what I got to a certain degree. I had a "bonus" moderate banana-and-clove phenolic aroma, slightly inappropriate for the style but certainly never unwelcome in a beer with these aromas and flavors. Unfortunately, these really pleasant aromas were overpowered by a heavy sourness. More sour-smelling than some of my favorite Jolly Pumpkin ales - which are sour on purpose because of the oak barrels they are aged in - the correct aromas of citrus rinds and pepper and spice lost out.

The taste suffered the same. I got hints of what I craved: toasty malt, biscuit malt, pears, with a delicate peppery finish. But these were afterthoughts to the strength of the sourness. More than a Belgian-characteristic Brettanomyces sourness (present not so much in their Pales as in their Strong ales), this sourness almost hinted at something...wrong.

But then is occurred to me: this is an attempt at a Real Ale, and Real Ales are about the maturation process..."matured by secondary fermentation in the container from which it is dispensed." Was there something to this? Is this a beer aged in oak kegs - like Jolly Pumpkin is aged in oak barrels - and then pulled into this bottle? Could that be the source of my sour angst? A decent Belgian Pale aged in tannin-inducing oak? Could this be, then, the marriage of two concepts into one beer?

If it is the last question, then maybe it could be. Just not particularly artfully done. But looking to the bottle for a clue, I spotted that it is bottle conditioned. Still a Real Ale by definition, it is indeed fermented and matured in its dispensing container. But that wouldn't explain the puckery sourness.

Ultimately, I had to put the beer down. I was left wanting for a pure, clean Belgian Pale Ale. What I like about other attempts at adding a flair to a beer is that - like Jolly Pumpkin - it is done in a balanced fashion. The parent beer is there to reassure you while the new addition is there to challenge. In this case, I was either overwhelmed or confused. And confusion is not why I drink beer. I get enough of that at work.

Confusion, I mean.

I could always use more beer.

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Utopias

Tonight, I had the distinct pleasure and privilege of attending a rare Sam Adams Utopias tasting.
For those of you who don't know, Utopias is a beer from the Boston Beer Company (Sam Adams) that pushes the limits of what a beer is. For instance, Jim Koch (founder of Sam Adams), entered Utopias into a French cognac competition. In the blind taste-test, Sam Adams won. Jim Koch got up to accept the award...and admitted Utopias is beer, not liquor. He was nearly boo'ed off the stage. But that's how American brewers roll; we take your little drink and make it ours. We own it.

I believe the abv is in the ballpark of 27%, making the beer 54-proof. 54 proof beer. Not to be trifled with.

Some of the beer in Utopias has been aged for 13 or more years. Jim has been thinking about Utopias for a long time. What is so awesome about it is that Jim's vision is to provide an after-dinner cognac-style drink that's fermented as a beer instead of distilled like a liquor, and he wanted to provide one of the highest quality. A drink as sought-after as the best of the world's cognacs and ports. And by all means, as evidenced by his cognac award (for beer! ha!!), he has done it. Each Utopias is a new beer blended with previous batches until it achieves the exact flavor profile Koch is after.

This is a rare opportunity indeed. Nation-wide distribution of Utopias is a mere 8,000 bottles (roughly wine or cognac bottle sized). And tonight, Mrs. Smitty and I were among a mere 12 people who got to sample from 2 vintages; 2005 and 2009. The tasting was conducted at Dusty's Tap Room in Meridian Twp. (Haslett/Okemos for the yokels), and also included sampling from the Sam Adams 2007 Triple Bock.
Let's get down to business.

The 2005 Utopias was astounding. I actually lose vocabulary over how amazing this beer is. The first words that come to mind are maple syrup. Huge maple syrup aroma (though, to be fair, not a drop of actual maple syrup is used to make this beer) and taste. Big, thick, syrupy body. Not a single hint of CO2 (way too much alcohol and protein for fizz to survive!). White Oak, sherry and vanilla finish this sticky-sweet beer. This one was Mrs. Smitty's favorite.

A brief note on Mrs. Smitty: all I did at about lunch time was text-message Mrs. Smitty and tell her there were 4 spots still open at Dusty's for tonight's Utopias tasting. An hour later, I got a text back saying that she found a sitter and that I better make sure there were 2 spots still left. Mrs. Smitty wanted to go as bad as I did, and enjoyed it every bit as much, carrying-on an in-depth conversation with the Sam Adams rep about flavor profiles.
I won. The rest of you can go home.

Anyway, Utopias 2009 was a completely different beer. None of the maple syrup was present, and it was a few shades deeper amber than the 2005. This one was grainy on the nose, reminding you more than the 2005 that the 2009's progenitor is still indeed beer. Chocolate, slight coffee and a classic cognac oakiness round-out the 2009. Mrs. Smitty liked it less (and by less, she meant "I like double chocolate chip cookies less than I like double chocolate chocolate chip cookies") than the '05, and I personally liked both for completely different reasons. One is beer that tastes like a wholly different drink and the other is beer that nods towards beer but is still...not beer in its taste and complexity.

The '07 triple bock was equally delicious if not quite as ground-breaking. It still had traditional bock characteristics (grain, chocolate, full body), but was still a step above anything I have ever experienced as a bock. Deep plums, prunes, dried cherries and dark chocolate make this beer into another after-dinner libation. Unlike most bocks and doppelbocks, I don't see monks using this as food during lent lest they sleep for 40 days!

All in all, this is a night to remember. I am thrilled I got to be a part of it and I look forward to future tasting adventures at Dusty's.

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Tommyknocker, Tommyknocker...

My first experience with Tommyknockers was Stephen King'snovel of the same name. Not a fan, really.

My second experience with Tommyknockers came 21 years later. This one come in a brown bottle from Idaho Springs, CO. The back of the bottle tells me that Tommyknockers are "mischievous elves who slipped into mining camps with the Cornish miners in the 1800s." This website spells out the legend.

I'll take the gnome legend; gnomes and beer just seem to fit together. And for this beer selection, the beer gnomes of Tommyknocker Brewery have created Tommyknocker Imperial Nut Brown Ale, brewed with pure maple syrup. Given that my own Michigan Maple Syrup Porter was a ridiculously-popular brew, I'll try anything with an ingredient native to my own home state.

Tommyknocker's Imperial Nut Brown poured a deep dark brown, like the deep brown of a Ghirardi dark chocolate. Lovely caramel brown highlights near the top gave way to a thin cappuccino-foam head. As the head dissipated, it left a thin swirl that remained throughout the beer. I always love how a beer looks; nothing makes me want to dive into a pint more than a beer that just looks enticing. Tommyknocker's beer gnomes, like little American leprechauns, really know how to lure me into their trap.

Big huge aromas played games with my nose, drawing me further into their little game. Chocolate blended with caramel, all on top of a nice cup of mild coffee. A gently roasted nut aroma gave the beer a chocolate mocha feel. Malty sweetness gave way to a slight alcohol burn, which wasn't enough to spoil the rest of the brew. And right at the end, like a reminder, was a slight hint of sugary maple syrup.

With the taste, I fell completely under the spell of the Tommyknockers; whether a trick or a trap, it no longer mattered. Maple syrup met chocolate and bready malt and made enough room for coffee to join in. All of the basic nut brown flavors were there to enjoy, including plums and a malty sweetness. The addition of the maple syrup added a sugary touch, and made the beer "imperial" in nature, complete with dangerous boosts to the normal style's flavors and a solventy alcohol burn. Big flavors to compete with the aromas.

The beer had a much lighter body than I expected from an Imperial brown. It was a little thin and watery, but not unsatisfying. The medium-high carbonation lifted the intense amount of sugars off the tongue to keep Tommyknocker Imperial Nut Brown from being cloyingly sweet.

This is a big beer for malt lovers. Sugary sweet, malty sweet, Tommyknocker gave me a delicious, challenging take on a basic Brit classic. As "Imperial"-style ales go, this is not the typical over-hopped, over-boozed, over-sugared "extreme beer" knock off. A gentle hand created this Imperial ale and allowed me to enjoy the robust flavors without having to fight through it or wear it as a badge of honor.

But at 9% abv, the Tommyknocker mischief certainly sneaks up on you!

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Have A Cow, Man

Another nod to Sopor for sending me some of Mt. Pleasant Brewing Company's Cowcatcher Red Ale (in keeping with the train theme of their beers). An American Amber/Red Ale is an extremely drinkable "session beer" that given its balance between hops and malt, with that scale tipped slightly towards malt, can please a palate beer after beer. Cowcatcher Red Ale does not disappoint, bringing drinkability in spades. I want more of this beer.
Cowcatcher poured a foamy, half-inch clear-white head The beer below it is a beautiful peach-red. It had a slight "fridge haze" from being kept cooler than I should keep it. As it warmed, it became crystal clear and infinitely inviting.

The armoa is exactly as it should be: big biscuity malt aroma up front and dominant along with a yeasty breadiness. Truly a loaf of bread in a glass! To balance, there is a tart and somewhat grassy hop presence throughout the aroma. It ends on a subtle but tasteful grainy note.

And then to the fun part: the drinking! The malt is here all day; this is a beer that despite a definite hop presence absolutely tends toward the malt. Cowcatcher, in that sense, is textbook. There are hops throughout, but in equilibrium with the malts. So many "American-style" beers can get overdone with the hops, but this beer keeps it right where it's supposed to be. Bready malt gives way to a rich caramel flavor. The hops at end end give the beer a citrusy sweetness that doesn't dry out the tongue. In fact, it entices you for more quafs.

Cowcatcher is medium-bodied with a level of carbonation that cleanses between drinks. No astringency, no buttery flavors. Just pure biscuity malt and squeaky-clean hops. Cowcatcher is a real pleasure to drink...one after another ad infinitum.

Thanks again Sopor. Great job on a beer that has been a real crowd-pleaser in the Smitty household.

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