Author Archives: Jared Washburn

About Jared Washburn

Jared is a teacher in the English department at Red Land High School in the West Shore School District. He teaches American and British literature classes, mainly, but also heads up the creative writing and journalism elective courses. He is the faculty adviser for the student-run newspaper, the Patriot Pride. Jared's a family man, happily married since June of '09, has an intuitive young son, two cats, and a German Shepherd.

Navigating tap handles: Selecting lager or ale

Call me nosey.

I’ve been called worse. But when I happen to be at a bar by myself, I tend to survey the scene. I’ll peruse the beverages on draft and look to see which bartender is apt to provide the best service, but, mostly, I’ll eavesdrop and “people watch.”

Recently, I overheard a college-aged man and woman, seemingly on a date for only the first or second time, sitting at the corner of the bar. Nothing unique, really, but I got the sense early on that the young woman was either not much of a drinker or had recently turned 21 and had little beer-ordering experience. She asked her date to order for her because she didn’t know what to get. He asked her simply, “Well, do you want an ale or a lager?”

I wasn’t listening intently — I’m not that nosey — but the question piqued my interest because I immediately thought to myself, “Come on, kid, do you really think she knows or even cares about the difference?” Not to my surprise, she just stared at him blankly and shrugged.

Now I was listening because I was wondering how this guy would explain it to his date. Obviously, a cold scientific response would not work and would more than likely bore his date to tears. “Budweiser is lager,” he started, and then he paused as he scanned the available beers on tap until he found a green handle and pointed it out to his date, “and Sierra Nevada is ale.”

While I knew his answer was as vague as vague could be, he was essentially correct. His date shrugged again, still a perplexed look upon her face, and said she’d just have a Bud Light. (She added the phrase “I guess” afterward, further cementing the fact that his response meant nothing to her.)

So why the Bud Light and not the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale? Did she really prefer lager over ale? Or did the name have something to do with it?

Be honest with yourself: whether you’re a 21-year-old woman or a 45-year-old man, you are apt to begin considering which beer to order at a bar based on brand name. You, too, likely scan the bar taps, with their ornate, colorful, creative handles, making a mental checklist, crossing off the brands that don’t appeal. But there are many factors beyond the brand that can help you make your choice.

At its most basic level of contrast, beer can be broken into two main categories: ale and lager. You are most likely not going to order a beer by telling the bartender you just want an ale or a lager (unless, of course you’re in Pennsylvania, where “lager” is synonymous with Yuengling Traditional Lager).

All beer is made from the same basic ingredients: water, barley, malts, hops, and yeast. Other things may be added in to influence flavor, color, or consistency, but those elements are common to all beer. The difference between an ale and a lager can’t be found in most of those ingredients, either: some ales will use the same type of malts and hops in their beer as a lager counterpart.

So what is the difference in the name? What makes ale ale and lager lager?

While there is no doubt that some exceptional and seasoned beer drinkers will claim to be able to pinpoint very different tastes between lagers and ales, it really comes down to one thing: the type of yeast used in brewing.

Ales have been brewed for much longer than lagers, with some ancient recipes of ale as medicine having been discovered to date back as far as Sumerian times. Ales most commonly utilize a yeast called Saccharomyces cervisiae, which has been cultivated for thousands of years and which favor warm temperatures, usually between 58 and 86 degrees Fahrenheit. These yeast strains must be brewed at a warmer temperature because, if the water is too cold, the yeast become dormant and do not naturally ferment to turn the water into beer. Most wine production also uses S. cervisiae or a similar strain of yeast.

S. cervisiae is also a top-fermenting (or top-cropping) yeast, meaning that as the brewing occurs, the yeast floats to the top of the brew tank and settles over the beer. This allows for a thick, frothy foam to form over the ale. Ales brewed in this method tend to allow for the fruit and bitter aromas in the hops to be overt in the finished product. Because of this, some ales will have a much cloudier appearance than lagers. Unless very stringent filtering techniques are utilized, most ales will have noticeable remnants or sediment from the yeast even when bottled.

On the other hand, lagers are cited in references and recipes only dating back as far as the mid-1500s in Germany and other parts of Europe. Lager uses a hybrid strain of yeast called Saccharomyces pastorianus, named after famous researcher Louis Pasteur, or Saccharomyces carlsbergensis, named by Emil Hansen, a researcher who worked for Danish beer giant Carlsberg Brewery in the 1800s.

Even though lager yeast is known by two names, it was later found that they are the same exact strain of yeast. Hansen discovered that his strain of yeast could be cultivated in-house and was easier to brew, needing less attention from the brewmaster’s watchful eyes. The owners of Carlsberg shared their secret of cultivating the lager yeast to all the big beer producers of the world, and mass-produced beer has been dominated by lager ever since.

S. pastorianus, while sharing some genome traits with S. cervisiae, grew to become a larger and more resilient yeast strain. The lager yeast also stays active when brewed in colder temperatures. Because of its size and its amenability to cold water, the yeast allows for what is known as bottom-fermentation (or bottom-cropping); the yeast gradually sinks to the bottom of the brew tank, leaving a clearer, cleaner beer.

Another decidedly different factor between ales and lagers is that lagers take much longer to brew. Most lagers need one or more months to ferment, whereas ales can typically be successfully brewed in as little as seven days. The name lager, in fact, is based on the German word lagern, which means “to store.”

It’s no coincidence that cold-brewed lagers are also often served ice cold. (After all, according to the commercials, a Coors Light isn’t fit to drink unless it’s cold enough that the mountains on the can turn icy blue.) Ales, on the other hand, especially those brewed under traditional circumstances like those in England and Belgium, are often served at cellar temperature, or around 55 F.

Let’s revisit the young woman at the bar with her date. Is it a shock that she chose Bud Light, a lager, when given the many choices at the bar? Could the popularity and familiarity of the Budweiser line of mass-marketed beers have played a part?

Nearly every popular American beer brand is headlined by a lager beer. In order for these beers to be produced at a high volume and at a low cost, most are what are known as American adjunct lagers. The word “adjunct” refers to the fact that many of the well-known lager beers (Coors, Budweiser, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Corona Extra, Miller High Life, and Foster’s) are brewed with an added grain, usually rice or corn, to round out the brew. The result is a beer that is usually very easy to drink: crisp, light in taste, low in bitterness, and with a pale yellow color and a middle-of-the-road alcohol level.

Many of the former flagship beers of the biggest macrobreweries have been supplanted by their “lite” versions. Light beers like Coors Light, Miller Lite, and our young lady’s choice, Bud Light, are also lagers. They are usually “lightened” by adding high volumes of rice or corn in the adjuncting process, thereby lessening the contributions, both in flavor and in calories, of the other ingredients. Light beers typically sacrifice those flavors for a lager that is much less filling.

The other popular form of lager in the United States is the pale lager, or pilsner. You’ve probably had world-wide marketed European pale lagers in the form of Heineken, Amstel, Stella Artois, and Harp.

Ales, on the other hand, are often the main attractions for micro and craft breweries. Ales tend to have much more robust, full-mouth flavors that linger. They utilize heavy amounts of hops and/or malts to achieve varying expressions of aromas and flavors. As a result, there are many styles of ale.

There is the American pale ale, like the one offered by Sierra Nevada. Pale ales and witbier are light and fruity, while the famous India pale ale, adored by hopheads across the land, packs on the hops to create intense floral and citrus aromas. Stouts and porters are ales that utilize heavily toasted grain to create a near-black ale with roasted malts and coffee overtones. Tripel ales up the yeast amounts, and quadrupel ales take it a step further by multiplying the grain ingredients four-fold to create dark, frothy ales high in sugar and malts, with equally high levels of alcohol.

But the types of ales don’t end there, with most styles being categorized by their place of origin. For example, there are English brown ales and Belgian brown ales, each having their own distinctive tastes and brewing styles. I could go on, as the number of ales is almost overwhelming … so go out and try some for yourself!

I recently took my own advice and pitted some pale ales against some pale lagers and pilsners. Here are my thoughts:

Left Hand Brewing Company’s 400 Pound Monkey I.P.A., an India pale ale from Longmont, Colorado — Big, frothy head on this hoppy pale ale, notes of clove, coriander … just a lot of spice going on here, maybe too much. I give it a B-minus.
Bell’s Brewing Company’s Lager of the Lake, a pale lager from Kalamazoo, Michigan — This pale lager is not all that impressive; it’s typical for the style, tastes like Miller High Life, only with a little more bitter aftertaste. C+
Erie Brewing Company’s Mad Anthony’s A.P.A., an American pale ale from Erie, Pennsylvania — Easy-drinking … smooth, with a very tolerable amount of bitterness. Would make a good “everyday” beer. B+
“Beer Camp” Electric Ray, an India pale lager that is a collaboration from Sierra Nevada Brewing Company and Ballast Point Brewing — A cool creaminess factor on this lager that is more ale-like, but with a crisp finish and a mild level of bitterness that slides from the taste buds, not destroying them; definitely unique. A
D.G. Yuengling and Son’s Premium Beer, a pilsner from Pottsville, Pennsylvania — Note that this is not the famous Traditional Lager, but the “house beer” at Yuengling. A pilsner with a subtle level of hops that creates a crisp, cutting finish, with a refreshing carbonation. B

Nothing against the good people who produce Bud Light, but please don’t follow the same path as our young lady friend by choosing a beer based on its familiar name. Try some variety! Order a distinctive type of lager and an equally original ale, then rate them against one another until you find a favorite. That way, should you ever get asked the lager-or-ale question, you’ll be ready with an educated response.

America’s hopsession: Pushing IBU to the limit

Beer lovers: Send up the emergency flares! Light the beacons! Sound the alarms! Did you know we are in the midst of a hops shortage?!

Hops are one of the central ingredients in all beers, essential in giving beer its bitter, floral, and sometimes citrus flavors and aromas. They’ve been a part of the recipe for centuries, but their value has changed over the past 40 years. Ever since 1975, when San Francisco-based craft-brewing pioneer Anchor Brewing Company released its hop-heavy Liberty Ale, craft brewers across the country have competed in making their own version of a hop-heavy, super-aromatic brew.

Moneywatch, a worldwide, economics-focused branch of CBS News, reported in May on the rising price of hops. It seems the “big boys” of the beer industry like Anheuser-Busch tend to hog up the hops sales, and that could translate into a hops war. This is a scary proposition for craft-brew fans, as those beers tend to use more hops and are already pricier than their mass-marketed counterparts.

What is it about hops that has brewers buying up as much of the little flower as possible — and at increasingly high costs to boot?

Tom Acitelli, the author of The Audacity of Hops: The History of America’s Craft Beer Revolution, recently blogged about Anchor’s role in developing an American alternative to European hops. Every hop-heavy beer in America owes something to Anchor’s discovery of the Cascade hop, an American-grown and cultivated hop that packs on the bitterness. In the decades since, many brewers have followed Anchor’s lead, moving the market away from hops grown in just Bavaria and Flanders, and opening up an ever-more-diverse crop of hops. These hops lend a complexity of flavor that can make a beer unique and stand out from a crowd.

Acitelli asserts that America’s obsession with mega-hopped beers has caused it to become a gimmick. As all sales tricks tend to go, once moderately-hopped beers became popular, breweries started to take the trend over the top. Hence, the creation of hop-heavy beers with crazy names like Terrapin Beer Co.’s Hopsecutioner I.P.A., Victory’s Hop Devil, and Ithaca Brewing Co.’s Flower Power I.P.A. There is also a hop-crazy beer called The Audacity of Hops, but it is not directly related to Acitelli’s book.

The bitterness of a beer, imparted by its hops, is measured by International Bitterness Units (IBU). Beers with high IBU will have an extremely noticeable floral aroma and will leave the tongue with a dry, bitter finish. India pale ales are the most readily identified as hop-heavy, but barley wines and stouts are other styles that feature high IBU. Beers with less than 20 IBU will hardly have any noticeable hops flavor: think of your light, wheat beers, like Blue Moon, which only has about 10 IBU. Most beers on the market land somewhere between 20 and 45 IBU; Heineken and Stella Artois, for example, hover in the 25 IBU range.

Anything over 45 IBU is considered hop-heavy. This is a bit shocking when you think that some beers, like Stone’s Ruination I.P.A., are reaching 100 and beyond on the IBU scale. “Ruination” seems an appropriate name for a beer that will more than likely ruin your taste buds for anything that follows it; it’s best to save that one for last call. But Stone does not stand at the pinnacle of mainstream hop peddlers. What may be the Holy Grail for hop lovers, Dogfish Head’s 120 Minute I.P.A., weighs in at a staggering 120 IBU — that is an insane amount of bitterness. Be ready for some mouth puckering after that one, plus it has a 15 to 20 percent ABV, so watch out.

Beers that rank high in IBU are also likely to have the hop flavor sit on the tongue, creating an aftertaste that lingers. Some beer drinkers who don’t know what to expect when indulging in a beer like 120 Minute I.P.A. may want to be cautious on that first sip or else they’re likely to contort their faces into a grotesque grimace, like in those old Keystone Light bitter-beer-face commercials.

So far, all this talk makes the proposition of having a hopped-up beer sound awful, which isn’t always the case. So what is it that attracts brewers to push bitterness to new limits?

Part of it, as CBS Moneywatch stated, is simply cashing in on a trend. Pushing the limits happens in every fad until the market is absolutely oversaturated. And the trend isn’t just confined to the United States either. Rob Willock of the United Kingdom’s Morning Advertiser feels this craze will follow the course of past fads: once the price of hops gets too out of hand, a new movement will arise in the brewing world that focuses heavily on some other ingredient or method of brewing. I mean, remember when Zima and Smirnoff Ice malt beverages were the in-thing 15 to 20 years ago? Zima closed up shop in 2008, and Smirnoffs aren’t exactly flying off the shelf anymore.

There may already be signs of the shift away from hops, as a number of domestic and international brewers are starting to revitalize the old Belgian style of beer known as saison or farmhouse ale. Check out Boulevard Brewing Company’s Saison-Brett or Ommegang’s Hennepin Ale; both are delicious and worthy new-world saisons that pay homage to the Belgian classic Saison DuPont. And breweries worried about the increasing cost of hops can breathe a sigh of relief if they chose to brew a saison, as most fall in the 20 to 35 IBU range.

Another upside to highly-hopped beers is that they drink a lot slower. For most of us, this translates to less beer being drunk in one sitting. Most beers with high IBU are full of flavor to savor and carry a weight that make them hard to chug. Compare that to Keystone Light, which clocks in at a measly 15 IBU with next to no aftertaste: before you know it, you’ve had six or seven of them in a short span of time and you’ll be needing to hail a cab to get home.

Plus, not all hop-heavy beers leave you with an extreme bitterness. Some brewers have very skillfully blended hops, malts, ryes, and wheat to perfect a unique flavor that doesn’t rely on pucker-face or cotton-mouth. While many of the super-hoppy beers on the craft-brewing market will likely only appeal to hop heads, some are easily enjoyed by all types of beer connoisseurs.

I sometimes enjoy the thrill of seeing how much my taste buds can handle, but I will more than likely settle for a beer that is well balanced. Here are some that I personally recommend:

Troubadour Magma Belgian Tripel I.P.A. (50 IBU) — One of my all-time favorites, this wine-like, well-balanced beer employs the dry-hopping method to create a fruit-forward and flowery beer that doesn’t destroy your taste buds.
Dogfish Head 90 Minute I.P.A. (90 IBU) — This beer will have a little more hop punch to it, but it has a creaminess that makes it smooth and balances out the hops so the bitterness doesn’t sit on your tongue in the aftertaste. This beer pairs well with with food and is, according to Esquire Magazine, “quite possibly the best I.P.A. in America.” Ratebeer.com users have even given it a 100 percent rating.
La Chouffe Houblon Dobbelen I.P.A. Tripel (59 IBU) — This beer is not super-hopped and shows a great deal of craftsmanship in balancing the hop flavor of an American I.P.A. with that of a standard Belgian strong ale. Smooth, yet with hints of its power and fruit flavors peeking through, this is a great beer to get you started on the road to higher IBU — if you dare.
Breckenridge 471 Small Batch I.P.A. (70 IBU) — Hailing from Denver, this double I.P.A. is a great example of how a high level of hops can be manipulated from overly bitter to being subtly sweet. Breckenridge uses a blend of three different hops and four sweet malts to balance this beer — definitely worth checking out.

So, if you are a hop head, it’s best to indulge in these potent beers while they last. If the hops war is to begin, you don’t want to wait until the price elevates to experience these treats.

What We’re Pouring: Selections from Bell’s Brewery

I’ve been on a Bell’s Brewery kick this summer. Ever since I first had the Oberon Ale. an American pale wheat ale, back in April, I knew I’d be looking into all this brewery had to offer.

Bell’s Brewery is based out of Kalamazoo, Michigan, and is one of the earlier craft breweries in the United States to make it big and have its product made available from coast to coast. Like most larger breweries, Bell’s has staple brews that are available year-round, but also offers a different beer for each season alongside a slew of specialties, some available only on draft.

I picked up a variety case of Bell’s core brands at Red Land Beer & Soda Outlet and sampled a few other offerings over the past few weeks. Click through below for my impressions:

Lobster feast made better with Iberian wines

Lobster: that quintessential luxury seafood dish that takes center stage however it’s served, whether it be alongside a choice cut of steak, mayo’ed up and served in a roll, or just by itself, cracked open and ready to dip and dab to buttery perfection. Lobster can have its rightful status as the great meal it is. How could it be any better?

Well, by pairing it with a crisp, mineral-heavy wine, of course. I indulged in a trio of lobster dishes and paired some great wines from Spain and Portugal, two countries that have rapidly become favorite go-tos for great wine.

It has become a summer tradition of mine to treat my family (a la Parks and Recreation’s Tom Haverford’s “Treat yo’ self!” mantra) to a slew of yummy lobster dishes. The best thing to do is buy a bunch of lobsters all at once, checking the local grocery stores and markets for when the deals hit, and plan out a number of dishes to have throughout the week with that all-delicious crustacean.

I started by purchasing seven Maine lobsters, all between 1.25 and 1.75 pounds, live from a local grocer. If you’ve never purchased live lobster before, be sure that you plan to cook and eat them that same day. With lobster, freshness is of absolute importance. However, following some simple tips, you can keep a lobster alive and healthy for up to 48 hours, should you need to. I recommend putting the lobster in a large cooler, wrapped in damp newspaper (or better yet, cardboard, as it’s more durable). Put a little bit of ice in the cooler. Keeping the lobsters cold will make them docile and easy to handle, slowing them down.

Get a large pot, like a turkey fryer, and boil the necessary amount of water, which is obviously dependent on the amount of lobsters you plan to boil. I don’t follow any particular recipe for this part. Chop up a couple of lemons, quarter 3 to 4 onions, chunk-chop some celery stalk, and toss it in the water. Season to your heart’s delight with Old Bay.

Once that water is at a good boil, submerge your lobsters alive … yes, alive. If you have something against cruelty to animals, get someone else to do this part and just close your eyes and bite your lip. You don’t want to kill the lobsters beforehand, but should one accidentally die, be sure to cook it as soon as possible. Lobsters that die prior to cooking have a reputation for being slimy and gross.

Boil for about 12 minutes; the more lobsters in the pot, the longer it may take.

Meal #1: Boiled whole lobster

This was a simple one. Pull the lobster out of the pot, cool it down at least enough to handle (the critters will keep cooking in the shell, I’ve found) by running some cool water over the lobster. Put it on a plate, crack, and begin the feast.

To accompany this meal, I chilled a bottle of 2012 Ulacia Txakolina and opened just prior to serving. The wine, by itself, seems like it would be a great aperitif, but it also was a perfect pairing with the lobster. It has a low alcohol level of 11 percent, so it is not overbearing relative to the flavor of the lobster, which I obviously wanted to savor.

The wine is made from a blend of Hondarrabi Zuri and Hondarribi Beltza, from the Getariako Txakolina region of northern Spain in Basque County. If you’ve never heard of those grapes before, no worries. They produce wines that are very similar to the wines of Vinho Verde, a more well-known wine region in northern Portugal that is across the border from Galicia (and which we discussed last week).

This particular wine had a great herbal and floral aroma with high carbonation, near sparkling, so it danced nicely on the tongue. There was a bit of acidity up front, but what I liked most was the minerality that matched nicely with the natural saltiness of the seafood. The wine had a dry and subtle finish that was truly refreshing. I give it a B+. You can find this wine at a great price ($15 is what I paid), and it’s meant to drink young, so buy up and have often!

Three lobsters down, four left. What to do? That night, I cleaned out the other lobsters, pulling all the usable meat and storing it in air-tight dishes and refrigerating.

Meal #2: The now-infamous Paula Deen’s lobster rolls

If you’ve never had a true lobster roll, march yourself to New England and indulge in one the best treats you can give yourself. While Paula Deen is loudly and proudly Southern, I found her recipe to be very reminiscent of the lobster rolls I’ve had in Maine and Massachusetts. Here’s her recipe. If the lobster meat has already been shelled, this is an easy-as-pie meal.

For this, I decided to stick with a wine that was similar to what I had the night before, but i jumped the border to Portugal and went with a $14 bottle of 2012 Niepoort Dócil from Vinho Verde. It’s made of 100% Loureira grape, with a perfume-heavy floral scent that is very attractive and pale yellow in tone, even somewhat opaque. The wine had noticeably more citrus up front than the previous night’s wine, but it gave way to the same granite-like minerality and a crisp finish.

Also at 11 percent alcohol, it was an easy-drinking wine that made for a pleasant chilled, lunchtime beverage. I could taste more of the steel in this one (it being steel-fermented) in the aftertaste, which was not something I personally favored. I didn’t get this from some other wines that were also steel-fermented, so it was a curious afterthought. A solid B rating.

Meal #3: The even more infamous (maybe) Martha Stewart’s Lobster Newburg

This is a great dinner meal to accompany other seafood sides, like spiced shrimp skewers or a filet of your favorite fish, along with some Old Bay cheddar biscuits. Here’s the easy to follow recipe. I followed it pretty much to a tee, but I made sure to stick with the Iberian wine theme and used a nice, medium-dry Spanish Amontillado sherry in the recipe. I had a bottle of non-vintage Valdespino Tio Diego Amontillado on my wine rack that has a nutty and creamy persistence to it, so I used that; this sherry was also good for sipping on after dinner.

During the meal, we drank a slightly chilled bottle of 2009 Peza do Rei Blanco, produced by the Adega Cachin winery, with grapes grown in Ribeira Sacra, Galicia, Spain. The wine makes use of a number of varietals in a blend of 70 percent Godello, 20 percent Treixadura, and 10 percent Albariño. I feel like this wine, less yellow and almost clear in color, was the most complex and added the most as a lobster accompaniment.

The Peza do Rei had a high dose of minerality and gave off an almost charcoal-like flavor that made me think it would match well with grilled seafood (something to remember the next time I grill some flounder or swordfish!). The acidity is not as potent in this wine, but it’s there in the form of tropical fruit hints. Like the others, it ended with a refreshing crispness that cleansed the palate. A great wine, A- rating, and at only $19, a best buy. This vintage might be at its peak, but the wine producer has already released 2010s and 2011s, so there is that to look forward to.

All in all, my two-day lobster feast was made all the better by trying some great wine offerings from northern Spain and Portugal. The Iberian peninsula’s white wines and seafood seem to pair extremely well.

Slip into relaxation with these campfire brews

After a long day of hiking, fishing, and canoeing subsides, after the search for adequate dry kindling ends, and after the initial fuss and smoke and spark of flickering baby flames erupts, the soothing magic of a summer campfire asserts itself and lures the camper into a trance. The pulsating glow of coals and dancing blue-gold flames licking the strategically placed logs is a kind of hypnosis unlike any other. All troublesome thoughts and worries fade and the quiet stillness of the woods at dusk is only broken by the subtle crackling pops and wheezes of the fire.

A man can be lost for minutes, simply staring into the hot coals of a well-built campfire. The only thing to break the trance is the reminder of the cold beverage in hand. A shake of the head to bring the camper back and the bottle of delicious beer becomes the new reality. There are not too many earthly experiences that can match the satisfaction of a mouthwatering, yeasty, malty brew enjoyed by the fireside with friends and/or loved ones.

Camping this weekend and sitting by a fire of my own design afforded me some time to taste some worthy beers that only added new levels of enjoyment to the campfire experience. I had with me a couple Belgians (the mass-marketed and produced Palm Special and a small-production level saison from a family brewery) and a trio of beers from Otto’s Pub and Brewery, a craft brewery in State College, Pennsylvania.

Once the fire was good and glowing hot, with adequate flame-age to meet my high standards — that’s when I popped the first cap. I started with a Palm Speciale, a beer that has become one of my absolute favorite “everyday” type beers in recent years. I guess I chose this beer first because it was one I didn’t need to think about. Having had this beer many, many times, I figured I could still work on the early stages of my fire and enjoy this beer without much need for time to sit and reflect. It’s a smooth-drinking, palpable amber ale that blends English hops (from Kent) with French barley and Belgian yeast. It’s a harmonious blend that yields to a fruity, yeasty aroma and a balanced bitterness that makes it an enjoyable, easy-to-drink beer, with a sweet and mellow honey finish.

Once the fire was really going and I could finally stop nitpicking over the need for constant attentiveness, I decided to pop the cork (yes, a corked bottle!) of a saison I picked up before my camping trip at a favorite restaurant of mine, Cafe Bruges in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. This beer, called La Saison d’Epeautre (or “Spelt of the Season”) by Brasserie de Blaugies, is a traditional farmhouse ale brewed by a small, family-owned and operated brewery near the French border with Belgium.

This beer was surprisingly high in carbonation, much more than most saisons, but I think this added to its appeal. I found this to be a perfect warm-weather beer. The golden, straw-colored beer combines a wheaty spelt malt with barley to make it a kind of combination of a witbier and amber ale. Its super carbonation gave it a foamy head that took time to subside, but the taste was refreshing and really hit the spot on a warm evening by the campfire as the sun waned and quietly slipped beyond the horizon.

By now, the campfire scene was dark, and the large flames from early on had consumed much of the initial timber as the hot coals began to glow. I tossed on a few large, heavy timber logs and sat back to watch the flames grow again. I now turned to a trio of ales I had picked up in six-packs at Otto’s Pub and Brewery in State College. My sister and brother-in-law live in State College and recommended this place to me, and I took their advice on a few beers.

I started with one of Otto’s seasonal brews, Pallet Jack Pale Ale. Pallet Jack quickly became my favorite beer of the weekend. It is a Belgian-style pale ale that is reminiscent of some blonde abbey ales like Affligem’s blonde ale or the more commonly known Samuel Adams Summer Ale. According to Otto’s website, the brewery uses Belgian yeasts to ferment the beer and mixes in a blend of hops. The beer is noticeably lemon heavy, and that taste follows through all the way to the finish. The citrus fruit is refreshing and not overly acidic, though. The beer has a white, thin-but-frothy head and a deep golden hue — delicious and very drinkable. Thinking that I may have found my new favorite summer beer, I had to have a second one.

Moving on to the later hours now, the fire began to dwindle and I was quite at ease with myself and the state of the world as I drank the last two of my chosen campfire beers, both from Otto’s. I had two of their mainstay brews, the Slab Cabin I.P.A. and the Zeno’s Rye Ale. Slab Cabin offered up a typical, hop-centric, floral aromatic sensibility that is expected with an American I.P.A., but it had a reddish-brown hue, which I felt was atypical for this style of beer. I later found out from Otto’s website that this is due to the addition of Munich malts, giving it a German doppelbock appearance. The beer was more of a sipper than the previous few, but it offered me a chance to take it easy and really enjoy my now-low-burning fire.

Zeno’s Rye Ale, which came heavily recommended by my sister, poured a darker, but still translucent, brown with a frothy white head that was thick. The beer took on a spiced aroma, like cinnamon or vanilla, the rye ever-present. This was a great finishing beer, as it was quite complex compared to the more refreshing tastes of the previous beers. It featured long, lingering hops, smooth without overwhelming my palate.

By this point, my gaze lost in the lingering flickering flames that leaped from side to side of a thoroughly charred log, I was feeling satisfied, accomplished, and tired. A campfire, with the sounds of crickets all around and the stars above, made my personal tasting a worthy experience. So, if you are looking for some good, easy-drinking brews to share by the campfire this summer, you can’t go wrong with any of the beers I had. Enjoy your summer!

Quick tasting notes:

Palm Speciale — A Belgian amber ale, easy to drink, smooth, with a honey sweetness and balanced bitterness. Good everyday beer. 5.4 percent alcohol by volume, 18 International Bitterness Units. Available in bottles or draft. Grade: B

Blaugies La Saison d’Epeautre — A wheat-heavy Belgian traditional saison beer with a heavy carbonation and refreshing taste. 6 percent ABV. Only sold in corked 750-milliliter bottles. A

Pallet Jack Pale Ale — My favorite beer to have enjoyed by the fire. A yeasty, citrus-heavy pale ale with a thin, foamy head. 6.1 percent ABV. Available on draft at the pub, or to take home in six-packs or by the case. A

Slab Cabin I.P.A. — Typical tasting American I.P.A. but with a brown tone due to added Munich malts. Hop heavy. 6.3 percent ABV. Available on draft, in 12-ounce or 22-ounce bottles, and in a keg from the brewery. B-

Zeno’s Rye Ale — Spicy and complex ale, but with a smooth finish and flavor. Vanilla notes and cinnamon present. 6.5 percent ABV. Occasionally available on draft and 12-ounce bottles in six-packs. B

Out with old, in with new? Trappist ale vs. craft tripel

There has never been a final agreement on which is better: the classic, old, tried-and-true way of doing things, or the new, improved, “groundbreaking” way. The debate unfolds in many areas of human endeavor, including in the production of wine, beer, and spirits, and there are partisans on both sides.

I guess circumstances determine a lot in the argument, though. Consider technology: Most people will go out and purchase the newest, most up-to-date techy device, sometimes dropping hundreds of dollars just to have the latest, “greatest” whatever-it-is. We assume that when a new technological marvel is invented and released, it must be an improvement over what came before, the previous glitches fixed and new applications available to us. The iPhone 6 will make prior versions obsolete, just like digital media has done to most vinyl records, eight-track tapes, audio and video cassettes, CDs, DVDs, and more.

But it’s not like that with everything. Remember New Coke? When Coca-Cola tinkered with the formula of its flagship soft drink in the 1980s, the backlash was swift and overwhelming: Coca-Cola “Classic” was on the shelves within three months, and New Coke was nothing more than a case study in marketing textbooks by the 1990s.

So, which argument prevails in the brewing of beer?

Beer is an ancient but constantly evolving beverage that has craft-brewing practitioners biting at the bit to branch out and risk it all to make something new and never-tasted. Take, for example, Rogue Voodoo Doughnut Bacon Maple Ale — surely and truly a challenge to the palate of even the most skilled beer drinker. And I’m still not sure about trying Belgium’s Smisje Wostyntje Mustard Ale. It seems that the reigns have been loosened quite a bit in the new craft beer renaissance; brewers with eccentric vision are pursuing what would have once been illegal.

All these innovations are exciting and, in many cases, a novelty. I appreciate what the craft beer movement is doing, while I maintain a certain respect for brewers who have taken to focusing their beer-crafting skills on taking a tried-and-true style of brew that is already near perfection and attempting to reproduce it with the highest quality of care and diligence.

I recently was able to get my hands on a large bottle of a 2012 vintage Goose Island Brewing Company Matilda, a Belgian-style, golden tripel ale. I thought it would be interesting to drink it side-by-side with a proven and respected Belgian Trappist tripel ale, such as the Westmalle Tripel. I wanted to compare the Old-World recipe with a New-World interpretation. It turned out to be a gratifying experience.

First, a little about each beer:

Representing the Old World, Westmalle Tripel is not only a conventional Belgian-style ale, but it is one brewed in the proud tradition of the Trappist monks at Westmalle Abbey, who oversee every aspect of its production, from picking the choicest hops, yeast, and malt, to the brewing, bottling, and sale of the product. Trappist beers are revered the world over because of their intensity and the attention to detail given to flavor, carbonation, and overall quality craftsmanship. Westmalle is no exception.

According to the historical records of the abbey, monks at Westmalle started brewing beer for their own use back in 1836, but this recipe was first brewed and served in 1934. The current formula has been unchanged for close to 60 years. This beer is nicknamed the “mother of all tripels” by the monks who brew it with simplicity in mind. At 9.5 percent alcohol by volume (ABV), this strong, top-fermentation, classic blonde beer consists of only five ingredients: water, malt, sugar, yeast, and hops. The exact ratio of these ingredients in the formula is kept under tight wraps by the monks. Only the handful of monks that actually work in the brewery know the exact mixture.

Representing the New World is Goose Island Brewing Company, a prominent, Chicago-based craft brewery that thrived during the 1990s and 2000s. Goose Island was recently purchased by Anheuser-Busch InBev, allowing the company to really expand its product availability in recent years. Their Matilda beer, at 7 percent ABV and between 26 to 32 International Bitterness Units (IBU), is a multi-award-winning, Belgian-style tripel ale.

Goose Island recommends aging the beer and says it can continue, under the right conditions, to develop in the bottle for up to five years. Its wild spice and fruit accents make it a unique beer. Matilda has been brewed since the early 2000s but was, until around 2010, not available in wide release. Beer critics on Beer Advocate liken it to popular Belgian strong ales such as La Chouffe.

For the tasting of these beers, I tried them one after the other. I drank the Westmalle first, because it was a beer I have had in the past and was more familiar with; the Matilda was a new beer to me. Both beers were drunk from a Trappist-style chalice glass.

My tasting notes

Westmalle Tripel (2014 bottling): On the pour, golden, but cloudy and yeasty in color with a foamy head (a slow, angled pour is recommended). Great effervescence and a wafting, subtle aroma of hops, dried fruit, and nutmeg. The first sip can be a shock if you’ve never had a strong Belgian ale before. (I liken it to someone who tries a Delirium Tremens or Duvel for the first time and realizes that, while it may have the color of Budweiser, it is most definitely not Budweiser; it is much more powerful.) But it smooths out quickly, and you are left with a satisfying, refreshing drink. The hops are strong, but not I.P.A. strong; they sit on the tongue just long enough to be noticed. It has a classic finish and a lasting aftertaste. Rating: A

Goose Island Matilda (2012 bottling): On the pour, slightly darker golden/amber color than Westmalle, but far less opaque; noticeably less unfiltered yeast present in the bottle. On the nose, it was quite different. This beer reminds me of autumn: heavy on spiced nutmeg, ginger, and clove — maybe even some cinnamon in there. Even before I tasted it, I had the impression of much more complexity. The hops level is similar to or slightly less than the Westmalle, but the combination of spice and nuttiness was much more prevalent. There was a sweetness factor that had not registered with the first beer, too. (My theory is that this beer has less yeast and, therefore, less of the sugar was broken down and turned to alcohol — but I have no evidence to back that up.) Where this beer seemed to yield more on the side of complex and intense flavors, I feel the spiciness of it made it less refreshing, overall. The beer is already two years old but, based on its intensity, I feel it could probably withstand another year or two of bottle aging and still be enjoyable. Rating: A-

New drinks, old cars: Favorites from Hershey wine festival

Set amid antique autos from around the world, the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board earlier this month showcased some of the best its Wine and Spirits stores have to offer at the Vintage & Vineyards wine festival. About 160 kiosks, manned by knowledgeable representatives from various wineries and importers, were situated throughout the Antique Automobile Club of America Museum in Hershey, Pennsylvania.

The experience was two-fold. Sipping on oak-aged chardonnays while standing mere feet from a 1925 Ford Model T Speedster is difficult to describe. Tasting a super-premium Napa cabernet sauvignon in view of a fire-engine-red 1930 DuPont Model G is impossible to describe. The auto-enthusiast setting mixed with the elegant wine selection made the event, overall, irresistible and unique.

Ticket holders were greeted at the door and handed a generously large wine glass by a PLCB representative. Guests’ mouths were watering, eager to get to the tastings. Of course, before you could get to the tasting area, a wall of wine-for-sale items had to be navigated. As eager as I was to flood my mouth with wine, it was hard to play ignorant and forget that the event is all about making money. Economics aside, the event got off to a busy and crowded start around 6:30 p.m.

In the basement level of the museum, more than 60 foreign wineries were treating Pennsylvanians to imported wine treats from France, Italy, Germany, South America, and even Asia. The various winery and importation representatives were, generally, very helpful and answered all our questions. They were typically eager to demonstrate the uniqueness of their offerings. There seemed to be a lot of interest in Alsace and German rieslings, based on the crowds surrounding the F. E. Trimbach kiosk as the reps poured their Riesling Cuvée Frédéric Emile.

The first floor of the museum was dedicated to showcasing domestic wines from all over the country, with many hailing from the west coast. There were a surprising number of Washington and Oregon wines available for tasting, but California, as expected, dominated the scene. A strong emphasis seemed to be placed on the chardonnays, sauvignon blancs, and pinot noirs.

Some of the varietals I was looking forward to trying, like Chateau Montelena’s prized Estate Zinfandel or Stag’s Leap’s exclusive SLV Cabernet Sauvignon, were left off the table for the “ordinary” taster like myself. I later found out that some VIP guests were able to try these more exclusive wines at a private event held earlier in the evening. (Perhaps, Curiata.com will be invited to this soirée next time.)

From California, many Napa, Sonoma, and Central Valley wineries were featuring spring-favorite rosé wines, typically fashioned from pinot noir or a blend of grenache and syrah. Most notably, Francis Ford Coppola Winery was going for the latter in its Sofia line, named for the daughter of the famed Hollywood director, an accomplished movie director in her own right. It is a much more European style of rosé, popular in the south of France. Wine Enthusiast recently rated this affordable wine a 90 out of 100.

A number of great wines left an impression on me. Here are three domestic offerings that really stood-out as “must try” wines:

Ken Wright Cellars 2010 Guadalupe Vineyard Pinot Noir — Rusty ruby in color. Earthy w/ noticeable spice, tannins, and a late-coming minerality and leather, but yields to a smoother than expected finish.
An interesting fact about Ken Wright Cellars: the winery specializes almost entirely in pinot noir production, bottling many different pinots, all of which are grown, harvest, pressed, and fermented exactly the same way. The only differences among them are the soil and location of the vineyards in which the grapes are grown (all in the Northern Willamette Valley region of Oregon). It’s an interesting experiment that results in surprisingly different-tasting wines. Guadalupe Vineyard, specifically, has soil that results in highly concentrated, small-cluster pinot grapes that are slightly more tannic than those grown in a more sedimentary soil.

Check out the entire line of Ken Wright Cellars pinot noirs, but for a truly delicious one, I’ll refer you to the Guadalupe Vineyard. The winery representative stated that the 2010 vintage is in its prime window for drinking now thru 2018.

Retail value is about $44.99.

Score: 4.25 out of 5
Chateau Montelena 2011 Napa Valley Chardonnay — Made from grapes grown away from the estate, this Napa chard pours the typical pale golden hue, with noticeable butter, plus subtle toast and citrus notes. The acidity is tame and soft, with a nice carbonation level; a truly balanced wine that yields its tropical fruit to an almost European-style minerality. This is an amazingly balanced wine and my wife’s favorite of the night.
We shouldn’t expect anything less from Chateau Montelena. This is, after all, one of the wineries that was essential in bringing the world’s attention to the potential of California wines, especially chardonnay (check out the movie Bottle Shock). The winery representative told me that Montelena’s chardonnay is very cellar-worthy and can age well under the right conditions; he mentioned a recent uncorking of 1990 and 1991 vintages at the winery that he was fortunate to partake in. He recommended that purchasing magnum-sized bottles (1.5-liter) or larger for cellar aging.

Retail value is about $39.95.

Score: 4.5 out of 5
Saintsbury 2012 Carneros Vin Gris of Pinot Noir — A 100-percent pinot noir. On first sip, a dry, crisp edge and solid, almost abrasive initial acidity to balance it out when paired with food. We bought a few bottles of this and it has paired well with everything from soft cheeses to desserts and even Chinese take-out food.
According to the Saintsbury wine representative, the grapes are grown in mountainside, volcanic soil, getting a lot of late afternoon sun. The terroir is evident in the drink. As the wine opens up and becomes more and more drinkable, the stone minerality and earthiness of the wine emerges.

Saintsbury has been making this wine since 1989, and it’s one of their best-received. Vines in this vineyard are a mix of old and young; the older vines are low-yield, but produce highly concentrated, juicy grapes. Honestly, a very pleasing wine, and what I would call the “best buy” of the evening.

At the show, it sold for around $11 a bottle, but was on sale the next day as a “Chairman’s Selection” at the state-run Wine and Spirits store for only $8! Not just a best buy, but a great buy!

Score: 4 out of 5.

A wine festival is a perfect opportunity to try a variety of new wines at an affordable price. Don’t pass up the next chance you have, and be sure to tell us about your favorites in the comments below or on Twitter.

As beer flows, so my mind goes: Sint Amatus 12

Bottled & Corked expands its scope beginning this week to include another of man’s great creations: beer. We hope you enjoy the additional coverage in one of our most popular columns.

The first sip is always the most important. Don’t doubt this. The first sip determines everything.

It’s the temperature shock when your lips first encounter the cold brew. It’s the carbonation dancing on your tongue. It’s the unexpected (or expected) dose of yeast, hops, and malt that washes over your taste buds. It’s the delayed swallow as you contemplate what just hit you. It’s that brief nanosecond when your eyes close and your senses widen. It’s the smile, the ingratiating nod of approval you pass the bartender’s way, or the audible, “Ahhhhh…” that escapes your throat.

Are you thirsty yet?

Whatever the reaction, there is an undeniable moment, however brief, of sincere enlightenment that accompanies the first sip of a truly great beer. After all, you know what they say about first impressions. Tasting a great beer for the first time is like a rite of passage. It means a lot to take that first sip.

Beer and wine lovers all have a “wish list” — a queue that continues to grow along with one’s passion for the beverages. Every time we read a slew of reviews in Wine Enthusiast or skim through user musings on BeerAdvocate.com, our wish list lengthens due to that human instinct to blurt out (either audibly or to ourselves), “I must try that,” or, “I want that.”

With the tantalizing rise in worldwide craft, micro, and home beer brewing, beer tastings have become as commonplace as wine tastings. There’s something out there for everyone. Every taste, every flavor seems to exist, especially in the beer market.

Within the world of craft brewing, there’s an intentional emphasis placed on the importance of not just the initial taste, but the entire beer-drinking experience. Risk-taking brewers have transcended the commonplace pilsners and lagers that make up the mass market of everyday brews in favor of creating niche beers for the most discerning tastes.

Experimental brewers are going to great lengths to make their beer stand out from the crowd. Organic beers (like Bison Brewing’s Organic I.P.A.), chocolate and peanut butter stouts (like Duclaw’s Sweet Baby Jesus!), specialty holiday seasonal beers (like Troegs Mad Elf or Samuel Adams Old Fezziwig Ale), renewed interest in ancient beer brewing techniques (like Dogfish Head’s Midas Touch, supposedly based on beer recipes that date back to 700 B.C.), and beers that actually have animal ingredients (like Ramsgate’s Black Pearl Oyster Stout) have surfaced to delight curious beer drinkers.

Even importers are finally taking risks on bringing in traditional and specialty brews from all corners of the world. For example, it used to be that Hoegaarden’s witbier and Stella Artois’ pale lager were the only Belgian beers found in U.S. bars (maybe you’d find the occasional specialty Trappiste brew, like Chimay Grand Reserve). Now, American drinkers are being treated to previously unavailable international beer gems; many higher-end bars are constantly rotating their stock of “what’s on tap” to keep consumers’ options plentiful.

This is a good thing. Consumers are learning about all that’s available beyond Miller, Coors, and Bud. There’s something special about the direction craft and micro brewers are taking; they’re attempting to create flavors and experiences beer drinkers have been craving, while at the same time continuing to satisfy the expectations relative to what made drinkers fall in love with beer in the first place. I don’t mean to diminish the common, everyday beer. (I mean, as I write this, I have a Yuengling Lager close at hand.) There is a comfort in the “old fall-backs” that keep us returning for more. But the human spirit is, by nature, curious, and we crave what we’ve never had.

Enter the “wish list.” It’s time to make some of those wishes a reality. Recently, I’ve been indulging in some new beers (well, new to me). A beer that I was able to strike off my wish list was De Struise Brouwer’s Sint Amatus Ootsvleteren 12. It’s no secret to those who know me best that I am an avid Belgian beer fanatic, so this brew has been on my radar for awhile.

I was able to order a bottle from a delightful purveyor of all things Belgium, so thanks to Kurt at BelgiumInABox.com, I could finally try this beer. I purchased a single 33-centiliter bottle from the 2010 vintage. (Yes, a bottle-aged beer … sounding a little like a wine? Well, it should).

Before I get to that precious first sip, here are some details about the brewery. De Struise started in 2006 and was turning out fine microbrews in Oostvleteren, Belgium, by 2009. The company brews a whole line of both traditional and experimental brews. (I’ve also tried their 2011 vintage Christmas beer called Struise Tsjeeses … out of this world and unique.)

The Sint Amatus 12 is named after a real Benedictine monk of that name. With elaborate label artwork, the Sint Amatus bottle stands out. What’s really unique and intriguing about this beer is that, while on the surface it seems just like any other traditional Belgian dark, quad ale, this one is aged in used Kentucky bourbon barrels. Most notably, Struise uses barrels from Woodford Reserve, a prominent small-batch bourbon producer in the United States.

Now, for that first sip.

Beer name: Sint Amatus Oostvleteren 12 (2010 vintage), 33-cL bottle

Type of glass: Trappiste beer chalice-style glass; I used a St. Bernardus glass

Other info: 10.5 percent alcohol by volume; misleadingly strong, should be a “sipper;” at around 300 calories, it’s filling, too — not a “lite” beer

Tasting notes: The nose was unassuming and what was expected of a strong, dark Belgian ale, especially a quad ale. The yeast and malt are prominent, even on the nose.

At first sip, the palate is overwhelmed (in a good way!) by the sweetness of candy sugar and malt, but it’s smooth. Judging by the age of the bottle, the bottle conditioning has a lot to do with the smoothness factor. It was so easy to drink.

Now, about those bourbon barrels … the flavor is there, but it is kind of hidden; it’s an afterthought on the back of the tongue. The wood taste and potency of the bourbon mixes well. It is more in the aftertaste, if anything.

After drinking nearly the entire glass, well past that excitement of the first sip and on to the sheer contentment of the whole experience, I wondered if a younger bottle (a 2013, perhaps?) would have the bourbon barrel wood more potent and up-front. Needless to say, while the beer is no longer on my wish list, it has certainly moved to my list of favorites.

Score: 4.75 out of 5

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