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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The Right Way To Put Orange In Your Beer

Some day, I am going to try and brew a mead. Looking a mead recipes, they are a good deal less complicated than a normal batch of beer, which is also not that complicated. Heat honey, add water, boil, cool, pitch yeast. The only thing that holds me back is the bottle conditioning period, which is somewhere between "when your bottles start collecting a good deal of dust" to "after retirement." Mead just gets better as it ages, and the character of the mead changes depending on the type of honey used (clover, fruit blossoms, etc.).

The beer I tried for this week's review is one that, intentionally or otherwise, looks to bridge a gap between mead and beer. This is Thomas Creek Brewery's (Orange Blossom Pilsner. Despite being brewed in South Carolina, it is subtitled "Florida's Honey Beer. The base beer is a Pilsner, with orange blossom honey added for alcohol and flavor. I've seen, and had, plenty of honey beers in my drinking career, so I am always happy to give them a try. The right kind of honey can add a nice flavor to a beer without affecting the body much, and it usually dries a beer out a bit.

This beer Thomas Creek's OBP poured a crystal-clear golden body with orange hues to it. Light effervescence yielded a thin, pure-white head which dissipated quickly. As I drank it, it did leave white wine-like "legs" down the glass.

Putting the glass to my nose, I did detect some "classic" lighter pilsner aromas: grainy, malty, with a smattering of floral and slightly spicy hops. The beer did have a honey-sweetness on top of it all, but not in such a way as to overpower the pils.

The taste was a decent blend of classic pilsner with noticeable honey sweetness added. It was grainy, slightly earthy and spicy, and sweet (malty and sugary). Interestingly, the lingering aftertaste was oranges. Not citrusy, like so many beers described on this blog, but very specifically orangey. The lightly-tart orange and honey sweetness grew as the beer progressed, along with the pleasant floral notes and mellow maltiness of a pils.

OBP was very light-bodied with moderate carbonation. It is a very quaffable beer, especially for hot summer days on your back deck. I have read some other reviews of this beer, and many of them are highly critical, given that this beer relies on a heavy adjunct (honey) to achieve its flavors and strength. Sure, Miller and those beers use rice and corn as a way to add fermentable sugar without adding color or other flavors. But to compare this beer, which is quite drinkable (though not the greatest beer I have ever tried), with those beers simply on the basis that the brewer used an adjunct is to miss what the brewer was trying to do. It's the South. Huge, black, roasty beers just aren't as popular down there. They grow oranges. They made a marketable, drinkable beer using what is considered the symbol of Florida (outside the stupid alligators). Again, while it's not an earth-shattering beer of immense creativity, I would definitely grab one of these on a sunny afternoon.

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