Barley Mowat 

Archive for July, 2012

Focus on the LDB

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Nope, this isn’t a rant… well, it isn’t entirely a rant. I looked out the window this afternoon and noticed it was kinda nice out. Then a cloud floated by which sorta looked like a “patio” and I thought “bang up idea, Mr Cloud!” (Note: pretty much all clouds look like a patio to me)

Of course, patio means patio beers. And with that thought came images of Belgian White. Long since gone from the private stores, Belgian White is available rather ubiquitously at the LDB, making for a rather shocking aberration from the LDB’s otherwise near perfect record of stocking pretty much entirely dreck and calling it beer.

So I wander over to the LDB website to find out where to buy this great concoction, and I see this.

Sigh. No funny caption. Just sigh.

Sure, there is such a thing as a nice wine to have in the summer heat, and this wine myopia on the LDB website is nothing new. However, there was just something about my particular context today and made this sting a bit more than usual. So I hung my head in a little bit of mini depression for how awful our provincial liquor board is.

Sensing that I was particularly vulnerable at that moment, the LDB website went for a “kick Chuck while he’s down” approach and scrolled this by.

Oh fuck off, LDB, just fuck right off.

I have officially given up hope that the LDB will ever give a focus to beer, period. Yet they sometimes have nice or unique products in stock. So screw you, LDB, I’ll do it for you. Thus, I present my first Focus on the LDB, a periodic post that will highlight interesting or special beers available in the LDB right now. This is not meant to be a comprehensive list, just two or three beers in stock at the LDB that I happen to like (and are therefore good).

Beer 1: Lighthouse Belgian White

Dean’s follow up to their highly acclaimed Belgian Black, the White is a more traditional take on a Belgian Wit Ale. I love this beer, and am happy to see it widely available. Sure, it’s not as over-the-top great as the Black, but sometimes a simpler beer is just what the doctor ordered. This is effectively the perfect patio beer.

Price: $6.50 for 650ml
Availability: Wide

Beer 2: Hopworks Secession

I guess someone ordered too much of this and had to dump it at the LDB to get rid of it. Having said that, this is perhaps the one of the best CDAs available in Cascadia. Grab some of Vern’s locally produced GIB CDA while you’re at it, and do a side-by-side comparison to see who wins in a CDA-off.

Price: $7.75 for 650ml
Availability: Limited

Beer 3: Parallel 49 Sampler

Ok, fine, this isn’t a beer, but rather four beers. So that’s got to be four times better, right? The newest BC brewery on the block decided to jump into the LDB with a splash, giving us all four of their summer lineup in one box. The four are: Seedspitter Watermelon Wit, Old Boy Classic Ale, Gypsy Tears Ruby Red, and Hoparazzi India Pale Lager. Each is a slightly unusual and interesting beer, and I love them all. The only problem is that every time I look down my glass is empty.

Price: $23.50 for 12x341ml
Availability: Limited

Written by chuck

July 21st, 2012 at 2:46 pm

Great Barrel Experiment: Beer Two Review

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Next up: Bourbon barrel-aged Howe Sound Pothole Filler. First, the specs:

Source Beer: Howe Sound Pothole Filler Imperial Stout (2 Litres)
Barrel: 2 Litre Bourbon-infused American Oak
Age: 3 weeks in barrel; 4 weeks in bottle
Adjuncts: Vanilla seeds
Carbonation: Brettanomyces in-barrel, then Dextrose/Champagne intro’d in-barrel, then in-bottle at capping

Damn if that doesn’t at least sound tasty. I mean, who doesn’t like a complex imperial stout. The burn of the bourbon should balance the sweetness of the vanilla, and the original chocolate tones should bind it all together. At least, that’s the theory. And we all know how theories usually wind up.

Legislated out of existence by US governments, that’s how.

Of course, reality has that nasty habit of not giving a shit about what you want to happen, and that explains my beer. The problem I had from day one with this barrel was in keeping the fermentation going. The imperial stout’s high alcohol and low specific gravity meant that the brettanomyces I threw into it had a very hard time getting going. The goal here was to dry out the beer a bit and add a slight belgian funk tone. While this might seem odd at first glance, it’s exactly the formula of one of the best stouts I’ve ever had (a one-off at Upright Brewing).

The brettanomyces, though, were rather put out at not being given tasty, easy-to-digest fruit to consume (such as was happening one barrel to the left), so they protested in about the only way they could: they up and died. With no active fermentation to keep pressure inside the barrel up, the risk of oxygen intruding and oxidizing the beer became real. So I whipped up some champagne yeast with dextrose, and tried that, which promptly died as well. Repeat this process a few more times, and finally one batch stuck and a slight positive pressure was keeping O2 at bay.

So what did I wind up with? The resultant beer was slightly less carbonated than the store-bought variety, but had an intriguing vanilla tone throughout. At the end of each sip, the bourbon would give you a little mellow burn and make you want more. There was also something else lingering on the edges of my tongue. Something… unpleasant… even… cardboardy. Damnit. Oxidization had crept in after all.

Again, I had the brilliant idea of blending this with my saved bottle of Pothole Filler, and this saved it. Not only did the blend take the edge of the oxidization, but a mix of about 75% barrel-aged, 25% shelf Pothole Filler was a vast, vast improvement over the original. Howe Sound makes a fine product, but ultimately I wouldn’t consider Pothole Filler to be cellar worthy. My concoction, though, is definitely that.

In the end, this is a recipe I’d want to tinker with and improve, but it definitely squeaks onto the list of “will do again.”

Last, but not least, is my Driftwood White Bark + “everything I could find” concoction. I should probably get to it sometime this week; as I was pulling the Pothole Filler out of the closet, I heard it laughing at me from the dark corner. This seems like the sort of situation one needs to address sooner rather than later.

Written by chuck

July 15th, 2012 at 12:42 pm

Posted in Beer and You

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More Than 30 Seconds

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As great as being on the radio was, it’s hard to accurately convey your point of view across in thirty seconds. My source interview with Mike Lloyd was, in itself, only three or four minutes long, and then that was edited down to the choice sound-bytes. While I think that the News 1130 crew did a great job with what they had to work with, the subject they brought up needs a bit more time than perhaps an all-news radio station is currently willing to devote to it.

The topic of iced-tea flavoured beer is approximately 10,000x more complex and nuanced than you might expect. It is, honestly, the sweet and disgustingly syrupy tip of the iced-tea-berg (very different from the iced-tea-bag… which is just… unpleasant).

First, a bit of history. Lighter tasting beers are a fairly recent innovation in brewing. While the trend towards predominantly lager production was in place pretty much as soon as lager was invented, the wheels really didn’t come off the beer flavour cart until US prohibition. Prohibition is pretty much solely responsible for the invention of “American-style Pale Lager”, a label that’s about as hard to throw out of your mouth as the product is to throw in. Even so, this abomination is anywhere from 75-95% of all beer sold, depending on market (we’re ~80%, FYI).

Bartenders in the dark years of prohibition would smuggle barrels of lager in from Canada and then conscientiously serve a quality product to their clientele, who, suffering under the iron fist of repression, needed just a few moments relief from their cruel beer-less lives. Just kidding, they watered that shit down to within an inch of its life and sold it to desperate rummies who’d pay anything for their medicine.

Surprisingly, their patrons actually *preferred* the lighter flavoured, lower alcohol product. Partly this was because the beer was either originally produced in someone’s bathtub between bathings, or even worse, smuggling in from Canada in a long, unrefrigerated version of a reverse underground railroad. Also, it could be presumed it was easier to deny imbibing illegally if one wasn’t passed out blind drunk at the dinner table.

I’d laugh, but that’s probably my grandmother.

When the USA got their collective senses back and repealed prohibition, the pent-up demand was not for quality ales, but rather for the weaker american lagers… and an industry was born. In the next few decades, things went from bad to worse as breweries boomed, grew to industrial scale, and began experimenting with ways to make their product even less flavourful. Flavourless hops and barley were custom bred to help (Coors famously uses their own species of barley) but that only took things so far.

Shortly adjuncts such as corn entered the brewing chain, along with non-hops bittering methods. These were praised not only by consumers for providing “clean, refreshing taste” but also by the producers because they’re cheap as fuck compared to actual barley and hops.

Around this industry of generic, insipid drunk-water grew a massive marketing machine. This isn’t an accident; the only way to differentiate an entire industry of effectively identical products is through branding. And thus the big-budget beer commercial was born.

As well as something called the “inverse beer/advertising rule.”

To keep things interesting, the big brands would introduce a new variant of their beer periodically. A new logo catches the eye and engages consumer interest, but ultimately it’s all a ploy. The macro brewer doesn’t really want you to like the new sub-brand; they just want you to feel like you’ve tried something new when you really haven’t.

The new sub-brand will quickly fade from the commercials, and then disappear altogether only to be replaced a few years later by something new. Remember Molson M, which Molson launched as the best thing since sliced bread only a year ago? Try and buy some today.

About the only major beer variant that actually stuck was, you guessed it, light beer: beer with even less flavour than the american pale lager it replaced. So now we have the “American-Style Calorie Reduced Pale Lager” to fit on beer-style labels. Thanks, asshats.

Alright, we’re all caught up. Iced tea, lime, and mojito flavoured beer are the next cycle, right? Well, maybe not.

This is where it gets interesting. All those other sub-brands were generally marketed on anything but their flavour. Take Molson M, as before, which was marketed on… um… the “microcarbonated” trademark, I guess. But that was the point: a flashy new colour scheme, logo, and ad campaign that would get attention, but could also be thrown away a year later without impacting the core brand.

These new products could very well be the same thing, but they’re different in a very important way: they have MORE flavour than the beer they’re based on. Sure, a technicality, but think about it this way: what other beverages are out there that are sweet, slightly alcoholic and flavoured like random stuff?

Yup, vodka coolers. These beers are plays into the teen-marketed alco-pop territory, and rather brilliant ones at that. If it all goes to hell, you just write it down as your bi-yearly experimental re-branding, but if it goes well you’ve just bridged into a new market, with a new target audience, where you have a massive advantage over your competitors.

What advantage? Taxes. In plain and simple terms, vodka production is taxed all to hell while beer production gets a relative cake walk. Despite the fact that both end-products are in the 4-7% ABV range, vodka still starts out at a tax-man’s dream of 40%. The beer, however, can be custom brewed to the target booziness without straying above the magic (and arbitrary) 12% barrier.

Then, thanks to all those decades of experience in brewing tasteless lager, the macros can get away with adding only a little volume of flavouring to this concoction, and thus stay on the friendly side of laws around minimum barley content in beer which were designed, honestly, to prevent exactly this sort of thing.

So, back to the core question: Are these products beer? I would say both yes and no. These are absolutely alcoholic products produced primarily through barley malt fermentation. That’s the yes. However, the flavourings are designed to completely overwhelm or replace the malt flavour of said barley, and I say that makes it not beer.

They might as well be mixing vodka with mojito mix at this point. They would, but it’d be too expensive.

Written by chuck

July 9th, 2012 at 8:09 pm

Posted in Beer and You

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