I don't really go much for packaging or even branding when it comes to beer. All that tiny writing on Stone bottles from some PR hack telling me I am not worthy? Yawn. All the millions wasted on design that gets unnecessarily added to the cost of my beer? Spare me. Yet... yet, there is this cube of beer from Sixpoint. It's just four pint cans in a cardboard container but it's a cube. Perfect.
Sixpoint has come to far northern New York and I was over there to pick some up today at Bear World. Ten bucks for two litres is a pretty good price. And Sixpoint makes beer that is far better than pretty good. This is my favorite, a strongish ale that balances a bit of rye into the grist more artfully than any other featuring that grain. It pours an orange-hued light cola under a froth and rim. Sweet and spice aroma. In the mouth, it's as pungent as a Belgian dubbel but one from a parallel universe where spice means something slightly different. Rich without being creamy, more sweetish seedy herbal dark Swedish rye bread than maltier pumpernickel. But not heavy like either of those. Anise, orange zest... maybe dry thyme. More cracker than bread crust. Love it.
BAers know the love.
I would have not thought Pakistan was ripe to become a beer exporting nation until I read this article... though I am not sure I would show up at the brewery growler in hand:
The brewery is next to the headquarters of the armed forces, which has helped to guarantee its security. "The best bars in the world are in the houses of Islamabad," said Major Rehman, who claimed his office at the brewery was the only place in Pakistan to serve draught lager. For Muslims, such drinking is technically illegal, although in practice no one has been lashed for drinking since the 1980s, under the regime of General Zia. "It's like ordering a pizza," an Islamabad resident said. "You pick up the phone and in 15 minutes the bootlegger is at your front door."
That is the only time I had read the word "lashed" in relation to drinking when it actually meant, you know, lashed. Apparently Michael Palin of Monty Python survived on the output of the one brewery while filming in Pakistan. Braver than me.
Josh Rubin wrote a great review of Les Trois Mousquetaires Porter Baltique in the Toronto Star today. It's a beer I love, having had my first in May 2010 after a beer run to La Belle Province. But I noticed something on the bottle that accompanied Josh' article. The bottle said "Automne 2010" and the strength was 9.2%. That's up there in the middle. Digging in the stash I pulled out one that I bought in Gatineau, Quebec a couple of weeks ago and, upper left, it just said 2011 with a strength of 10%. My photo, to the right, from the first bottle I had was "Automne 2010 2009" and the strength was 10%. Then I go to the website of province's government store, the LCBO and see that it is described as a 2011 - but the strength is only 8.3%. And it costs two bucks more than the one I got in Quebec... hmm...
Don't get me wrong. Whatever it is, It's a hell of a beer and I will be buying more of the Ontario offering to join their Quebec cousins in the stash. It's a long winter in Canada. And I appreciate year to year vintage variation but there is something about this that seems a step more than that. Is there not a small chance that the LCBO lab police have intervened? They "conducted almost 368,000 tests on 15,700 different beverage alcohol samples prior to their sale in fiscal 2003-04" you know. Have the egg heads in white lab coats (sorry) determined that the beer is 20% inflated or is it a different batch?
Better go get a photo of one that's actually on the shelf. See if the label says 8.3% like the website.
Charlevoix is a favorite brewery of mine even if it was unknown to me just three years ago. I have loved their dubbel since April 2009. I picked up this one, along with some elk and wild boar sausage, at Broue Ha Ha a few weeks ago.
I was a little intrigued by the "?" Double IPA idea, the mystery hop. And then I remembered that I am not good at picking out hops. Except Fuggles. Nail that one every time. The rest? Not so much. On the pour, orange beer under thick rocky light cream head. There is the aroma of marmalade withe milk chocolate of all things. And in the mouth there is more of that milky yum thing going on. With masses of orange ginger marmalade. Then it isn't and it moves to something more like honey and ginger and wild ditch weeds in June. Extremely interesting stuff.
The BAers are a little unsure even if respectful.
Between have a cold, having five kids and helping out with the fledgling North American Beer Writers Guild reincarnation... in addition to thinking about next year's Oktoberfest speakers series... in addition to the bright idea to start a web based concordance to The Oxford Companion to Beer, sometimes it get difficult to see where you get the chance to just have a beer. Weekend laundry marathons help a lot with that. Full Sail Imperial Porter went down nicely yesterday as did a Sixpoint Righteous Ale. I am over the river on Friday and plan to stock up with some more. Even if the Canadian dollar is seven cents below the heady days of April and July.
Sadly, I will not get to the Cask Days festival to be held in Toronto. Jordan has the details. If the mini-version I saw two weeks ago in a freezing rain-soaked cow pasture was any hint, the urban version held inside a building should be great. By the way, has anyone given Ralph Morana, owner of Bar Volo, a prize for something yet? Maybe I should add that project to my little list as well as well. A Good Beer Blog's annual awards for people I appreciate awards. That should fit right in. Maybe then he'll open a branch of the operation in my town.
What would he thought of it all? Monseigneur D’Esgly, the first bishop after the conquest of New France. Strong, black ale. Fitting? Fitting enough for me. I needed something richly purifying after all that mixed ethical talk. Who knew Joe won't accept samples? Win leaves it to the informed reader. Stan says relationships that are built weigh more on the ethical scales. Who knows? All I know is that I need a little redemption.
I had their double IPA last year but this is the one from the bottles brought back from Quebec that I recall liking the most. Black ale impervious to light held under a very dark espresso head. Licorice, pumpernickel and coffee on the sniff. In the mouth, creamy variation of all that plus mint hops that morph to a bit of eucalyptus halfway through. A small boom of dark rummy malt arises in the finish. Thick and lovely yet smooth. High respect from the BAers. Does the trick.
We did this one in 2008 but it is good to visit this question repeatedly. Me? I like cash. Because, apparently, the people who run pubs, make beer and publish beer periodicals like it as well. There is an odd assumption that bloggers (and drinkers) participate out of "passion" - a catch all word for sucker far too often.
But there is a question in all of this. Go read Pete and tell us what you think... here or there.
Interesting article at the web site... the web presence... of The Atlantic about pumpkin ales. I have thought about these beers for years now and have a few ideas of my own. But I still appreciate these thoughts:
Some beer styles are loved, some are ardently despised, but none is more divisive than pumpkin ales. Those who love them wait all year for their seasonal release; others can't even broach the subject without foaming at the mouth. "I hate pumpkin beers," wrote my friend and Washington City Paper beer writer Orr Stuhl. "Even picking a 'favorite' -- say, Dogfish Head's -- is like picking a favorite airborne illness."
Well, to be fair to Dogfish Head, hardly their oddest flavour. But I defend pumpkin beers. For what the represent - an indigenous North American style that has reasonably valid historic precedent - they are a hit. And the fact is they can be tasty. In the last few days, I have had a recent bottling from Ontario's Nicklebrook as well as New York's Sixpoint Autumnation. Very different beers which present that gourd the people like the most. Nicklebrook's was so authentically pie it is hard to imagine what to pair it with. Other than pie. Except it better be a pie as good as this beer. Sixpoint goes in a different direction, using the pumpkin as a flavour rather than an end result. It's like the gentler twin cousin of their Righteous Ale, the one who only shows up every fall.
Seasonal beers are big news in the US - even if Canadian drinks writers had no idea 4 years ago. Rather than slag them, why not think about what would be the equivalent for every month of the year. How many more beers could taste like pie if we put our minds to it. Right now in the stash I have a pear beer from Quebec I am quite looking forward to drinking, one of my favorite flavours. Wouldn't it be nice if each September flooded us with complex, excellent and tasty pear beers?
