Traverse City Cherry Wheat, Atwater Brewery

Apparently it was a bad year for tart cherries in Michigan.  Unusual weather left pie and jam lovers either coughing up more for their treats or trying recipes that call for less of the fruit.  (Sundae aficionados were left unscathed.  Sweet cherries were fine.)  The area around Traverse City is the largest producer (usually) of tart cherries in the U.S. and Atwater Brewery tries to capture its spirit with today’s beer.  Wheat and fruit adjuncts have a long working relationship as just about any non-Belgian fruity beer contains the grain.  Sometimes it’s a hint, sometimes it’s the main event.  It all depends on the brewery.  Let’s pop the top on Atwater’s Traverse City Cherry Wheat (sorry it's just a brand page; today's beer isn't included in their super sweet sliding scale).

That is indeed a dark wheat beer!

The head gives off a bready feel but with something else, as if the alcohol content is going to be higher than your average wheat.  It’s not.  That’s just the tartness of the cherry variety they used, likely montmorency because that’s what you get around Traverse City.  Atwater Brewery prides itself on having imported all of its equipment from Germany as a claim to the centuries old traditions there.  American beer makers trying to piggyback on the history of Europe is often cliche as well as questionable.  But Eurobeer purists should be fair here and acknowledge that at least the wheat beer component is pretty damn close to the pragmatic mouthfeel and flavor profile of a true Bavarian Weiß Bier.  Not bad for a fifteen year old brewery in Detroit.

A lot of the reviews floating around complain of a lack of cherry flavor, but I think this stems from the tart vs. sweet argument.  Which type is better suited for beer?  Well, it comes down to what your preferences are.  If you enjoy lighter fruity beers, go with sweet for that shandy-like playfulness.  If you’re not really fruit beer person to begin with, it’s tart all the way.  Traverse City Cherry Wheat tastes less like it skimped on the red drupes and more like it used a different variety than what you know from eating as a snack.  Given that observation, it may well be a good thing they didn’t add much more as it would have just made the brew drier and tarter.  Like brewing with real coffee beans, subtlety can sometimes be necessary.

Optimator, Spaten

German cities have a way of attaching themselves to food names.  Denizens of Frankfurt and Wien have the distinction of being linguistically interchangeable with sausages.  Likewise, Hamburgers get to be synonymous with, well, hamburgers.  Perhaps the sweetest of these crossovers is the demonym for citizens of the capital city.  Theirs famously led an American president to declare himself one of these guys.

"I am a jelly doughnut!"
-John F. Kennedy

Of course this isn’t the only sweet thing with an etymology tied to a German city.  Today’s beer comes from the bock family.  The bock style is kind of named after the city of Einbeck.  I say kind of because obviously Einbeck ≠ Bock.  The Bavarian dialect, a cousin of which gives Arnold Schwarzenegger his distinctive accent, made “Einbeck” sound an awful lot like “ein Bock,” which means “a billygoat.”  That’s why labels of bocks often feature goats.  Quite frequently dancing.  Not sure why on that one.  Anyway, bocks are really malty so they provide the perfect counterpoint to the craft beer world’s often harsh blast of flavors.  Doppelbock may undo a little of that when it ramps up the grain bill, thus adding a few percentage points to the ABV, but it mostly just increases the flavor profile.  Let’s move on to Spaten’s doppelbock, Optimator.

Unfortunately the bottle is green, but what can you do?

It’s pretty dark, but very clear.  If it weren’t for the deep brown color, you’d be able to see pretty well through the glass.  The aroma makes me wish I could transmit smells over the internet.  So malty, so welcoming, so full.  The taste is one of heavy malts(duh) but it also contains dark roasts.  Stout haters need not worry though, because any burnt flavors are wrapped in a big, fuzzy blanket of sweetness.  It’s almost candy-like but not in the light, fruity way most candy is.  More like a horehound candy.  A working man’s sweet treat, if you will.  Optimator doesn’t have much of the syrupy linger common in the bock family, but it delivers wholeheartedly on any craving you may have for a smooth antidote to the bitterness of life.  That is assuming you have bitterness in your life.  Otherwise it’s just tasty.

Ironically enough, I first came across Spaten while in Italy and it soon became a favorite along with Tuborg.  I guess it makes sense though, Italy is a wine country.  Like the U.S. twenty years ago, all the good beers are imports.  For all of you who don’t find yourselves among the 82 million people living in Germany right now, be thankful that Spaten exports as much as it does.  I encourage you to show your thanks by picking up some Optimator the next time you’re out.  Trust me, you don’t want them to pull out of your market for lack of sales. If you do live in Germany, don't tell them about that Kennedy quotation.

Busted Knuckle, Gray's Brewing Company

Paul Ryan and Joe Biden went toe-to-toe last week in the only vice presidential debate of this year’s U.S. election.  How did his image hold up?  It was pretty easy to bolster his little guy motif when his opponent, 27 years his elder, kept giving that smile that says, “I remember when I was young and stupid!”  He also reminded us of his style of half truths early on by tying the fortunes of the entire country to one, unglamorous city in Pennsylvania.  So pretty much no change.  My last two beers from Gray’s Brewery in his hometown of Janesville, Wisconsin didn’t quite capture the man who is running to be the next VP.  Therefore I am giving it one more shot with an Irish Red.  While the company’s own description doesn’t seem to match the Ryan motif, the name conjures up images of the debate he just contested.  On to Busted Knuckle!

Nice pour!

This beer is really quite red.

It forms a very nice head.

If you wanted a bite,

You’ll find no delight.

It’s malty and sweet instead.

This is not going well.  Busted Knuckle tastes even less like Ryan than Bully Porter and the Oatmeal Stout.  I don’t feel busted up at all.  It is indeed Irish, but if its finger joints are damaged, it’s from hand-kneading dough for bread to be donated to homeless orphaned children.  This beer couldn’t hurt a fly, in the exceedingly rare case it ever felt the need to.  Far from a young gun in his fighting prime, I’m seeing an old grandpa who sticks his foot in his mouth, but in an endearing sort of way.  Wait a minute...

What?  Can it really be?

Yes.  Busted Knuckle is Joe Biden.  Which means Biden must be from Janesville.  Which means Ryan must actually be from Scranton!  Now to find a microbrewery there.  Does anybody know where one is?  Preferably near the Dunder Mifflin office.

Old Rasputin, North Coast Brewing Company

Right before fetching today’s beer from the basement, I paid a visit to the bathroom and had an interesting experience.  As I was preparing to take my place on the porcelain throne, I was startled by a very loud, very heavy, very sudden thud that shook away my sense of physical security like a dog throwing water off its coat.  Its power was made all the more ominous by a peculiar hollowness that belied some empty cavern seeking its fill.  The juxtaposition of vicious ferocity and a complete lack of satiety is possibly one of the most frightening combinations imaginable, harkening back to our days avoiding predators in the savannah.  Any sense of joy or contentment with the world drained from my chest, through my midsection and out my pores leaving only dread.  I turned to see what calamitous horror awaited me and faced the source directly.  Right after I had lifted the toilet seat, it had fallen shut.  As quickly as the rush of fear beset me, it dissipated and the words tumbled out of my mouth, “Don’t do that!” as if the toilet seat were able to comprehend my impassioned plea.

So terrifying!

We’ve all experienced those moments when something simple and benign suddenly leads to a totally irrational fear for your life.  This happens at a much slower pace in history as well.  A notable example is Grigory Rasputin, whose stylized story can be found here (the third to last paragraph contains the most famous story, his assassination).  People attribute great power, both political and supernatural, to the “mad monk” and declare him to be evil.  In reality, he was probably just an exceedingly quirky guy whose legend grew from his proximity to the tsar.  North Coast Brewing Company taps into the legend with its Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout.

Peaking out above the brim, are we?

An incredibly dark beer with a very thick head.  Stouts have a tendency to build their bubbly tops belatedly and this one was true to form, continuing to grow for almost a full minute.  That foamy cap itself is a delicacy full of hoppy bitterness and a cappuccino-like mouthfeel.  The aroma alerts you to the roastiness of dark malts and the sweetness of the large base malt component but doesn’t really prepare you for what is to come.  I’ve developed a reputation as the beer guy (I’m sure many of you have too) so I get honor of hearing a description of their reaction whenever someone I know tries it for the first time.  A common refrain is, “I wasn’t ready!  Emotionally, mentally, physically...”  Old Rasputin goes for the coffee, then follows it up with the IBUs of a solid IPA.  However, once you get past the sting of bitterness you realize it’s just a really big, really tasty beer.  As simple as that.  In fiction writing, you’re supposed to leave the reader wanting more.  That must not be the case with brewing because you are at peace with your drinking after 12-16 ounces of this beer.  Maybe if you’re 250 lbs or Irish you can keep going, but most everybody else should feel pretty satisfied.

One last interesting tidbit about Old Rasputin.  It is brought to you by a Californian brewery recreating a style made in England for the Russian tsarist court.  This beer has come a long way to get to you.  You should make the trek from wherever your palette naturally predisposes you to try it honestly.  I know it can be initially shocking, but if you can just calm your tongue’s fear and finish your glass knowing everything will be okay, it will be a rewarding experience.  Good luck!

India Pale Ale, Avery

Today’s beer has a penchant for the non-sensical.  I say penchant because it isn’t non-sensical itself, but only has a faint wafting of weird.  It is an IPA from Colorado, making it a traditional sea-faring beer from the mountains.  It is a fine beer that you can easily find in cans.  It is very bitter yet has a creamy head.  The Avery employee in this video claims to drink it 500 days a year.  In the words of almost anyone who works with small children, “That’s silly!”  But we don’t care how silly a brew may be, we’ll drink it nonetheless.  Therefore I present to you, Avery’s India Pale Ale.

Darker than your average IPA.

The first thing you encounter is a huge hop aroma veritably billowing out of the glass.  Like the Israelites’ pillar of smoke leading them to the promised land, it leads you into an oddly creamy head and a biting hop flavor.  It is certainly easy to believe three of the four hop varieties used clock double digit alpha acids.  Bitterness isn’t the whole story though.  Floral notes get an assist in too, enabling you to take more than one, painful sip.  The balance is, well, angled.  While neither side of the scale is touching the base, the slope of the line between them is probably close to 4 over 5.  Of course that’s just a guesstimate.  I didn’t have graphing paper to plot it nor a protractor to measure it nor a scale to weigh it.  I had to use the grid on and Andy doll shirt and visualise the angle with the shaft of a pen.  Plus, a weight comparison is meaningless between malt and hops anyway because of the differing matter densities in each.  Okay, I’m sorry!

My mathematical tools.

Anyway, this beer is heavy on the hops with not much malty sweetness to level the playing field.  If you’ve really been craving an IPA, Avery’s India Pale Ale is perfect for jolting you back into the world of bitter beer.  On the other hand, if you just kinda want something hoppy, only plan on drinking one before moving on.  I would hate for you to be in a position where the strong bite stopped you from being able to enjoy such a tasty beverage.

Dragon's Milk, New Holland Brewing Company

Today’s beer comes from New Holland Brewing Company, which is based in Holland Michigan.  This city has another, more hidden claim to fame in that all those WWJD bracelets you saw in the 90s got their start here.  I want to point out that “Holland,” even though many people treat it as a synonym of “The Netherlands,” is actually only one region in that country.  Using those terms interchangeably is kind of like calling Massachusetts “Boston” or Iceland “Reykjavik.”  Anyway, the brewery this city in Michigan houses brews a stout called Dragon’s Milk.

Wow, that's dark!

That, is a dark beer.  It doesn’t produce a huge head, but what head it does have is thick and creamy.  You smell a lot of charred malt, but not in an overly harsh way.  It entices you with the promise of being a stout that won’t hurt you.  This promise is tested when you sip.  The first word that comes to mind is “bam,” with all the imagery of Emeril Lagasse throwing a handful of garlic into a flaming pan attached.  The dark, roasty flavors make themselves known along side a prominent 10% ABV.  But that’s not the whole story.  The assault doesn’t continue after that initial burst.  It’s like someone who comes off as crass and ill mannered but turns out to be a nice guy with lots of interesting things to say.  This anti-judgement lesson goes even further when you take into account my second pour.

Hmm...  Something's different...

After warming up a bit, a much larger head was drawn from the bottle, leading to a denser smellscape.  Not necessarily more aromas, but it’s a lot easier to smell them.  Back to that taste, though.  Even though the alcohol and sharp char hit you pretty hard, they get out of the way and let you enjoy your beer, resulting in an overall experience that is not harsh at all.  I’ve mentioned before that most stouts either lean more towards dark chocolate or black coffee.  Dragon’s Milk sidesteps these two by putting the emphasis on malts that taste dark themselves rather than like other dark things.  The clone recipe that’s been floating around for several years now includes crystal malts at 80 and 120 lovibond.  To put that in perspective for non brewers, the first chart on this web page categorizes anything greater than 25L in the “start of full black” segment.  That’s even before you add in the chocolate malt, which clocks in around 350L!

Overall, Dragon’s Milk is a fantastic beer.  It illustrates quite clearly the paradox between the burnt flavors and unfermentable sugars of the darker malts.  (Although that clone recipe does include flaked oats and wheat malt that could be adding some enticement...)  Last week I spent some time musing on beers possibly representing a certain political personality and that was a lot of fun.  Dragon’s Milk brings a certain person to my mind and that would be Mitch Mahoney.  Yes, the scary comfort counselor who escorts the eliminated contestants from the 25th annual Putnam County spelling bee stage.  He may be an ex-convict clocking community service hours, but his heart is in the right place as he tries to help the kids deal with their loss.  Dragon’s Milk may not be a wheat beer, but it strives to comfort you with smooth encouragement even though it comes from a rough style.  That makes it all the more touching.

Erdinger Hefe-Weizen

Today’s beer comes from a mid-sized city just east of the relatively young Munich Airport.  The airport brought with it new economic development, but Erding is still most famous for Erdinger Weissbier, which has been brewing since 1886.  What it has made is a beer that typifies a quaff on a summer day in Bavaria.  That sounds delightful.

Do I need a bigger bottle or smaller glass?
Bigger bottle.

Everything about this beer is text book hefeweizen.  The color of the beer and head are spot on, the aroma has that peculiar sharpness that stabs you like a cotton ball, that oh so Bavarian game where a hint of sweet fruitiness plays with the alcohol is in full swing and the mouthfeel against which all wheat beers are judged is right at home.  Drinking this beer transports you to Southern Germany the same way Radler and Kaisershmarrn do.  You could say that this is the way wheat beer is supposed to taste, but that’s a whole other conversation about where the line is drawn between historically accurate and apocryphal and what exactly constitutes “pretentious.”  Should we try to maintain the hefeweizen style as it was originally conceived?  Should we poo poo musicians that play Bach on modern pianos or use the sustain pedal in a Mozart piece?  Who knows?

To press or not to press?  WWMD?

Just a quick word on that head.  The head on a wheat beer usually should be light in texture, almost fluffy.  The bubbles are all different sizes and seem to not care what the others are doing.  This is sometimes referred to as “rocky,” but that word generally goes with other styles.  The head is an important part of what constitutes a wheat beer and it is lost when you garnish with lemon or orange.  I’m not saying you’re a bad person for doing it, but be aware of what you’re missing.

Pock-marked, not uniform, almost white.

The reviews online of Erdinger Hefe-Weizen aren’t spectacular but hey, the answer key for the test doesn’t get extra credit.  If you already know all the styles and are looking for a wheat beer to blow you away, go to Belgium or America.  If you want to know from where all the other wheat beers came, grab an Erdinger Hefe-Weizen.  Just pour yourself a glass and enjoy the simplicity such a complex concoction can offer.  Servus!

Oatmeal Stout, Gray's Tied House

A few days ago I tried a beer from Janesville, the hometown of Paul Ryan, and compared it to the man himself.  There quite clearly was no match of character between them, but today this city in Wisconsin gets another shot at brewing a match for its famous politician.  Gray’s Tied House is swinging again with its Oatmeal Stout.  Looking ahead to other drinkers’ reviews raises hopes in the vast differences in opinion.  Most people appear to have very good or very bad things to say with not much left over for the middle.  That sounds familiar.  However, those who don’t like it claim it to be too weak or thin.  That doesn’t much sound like the man running for VP.  Oh well, time to test it with the tongue.

It's also black.  Ryan is not black.

The head may be thin but the oatmeal stout aroma is all there.  Coffee notes hit your nose, but don’t assault you.  A lot of people mention milk chocolate rather than the usual dark chocolate associated with stouts.  This might come more from the mouthfeel than the actual flavors.  A lack of alcohol bite and a viscosity that delivers only slight chewiness allow this beer to charm its way through your mouth.  Stronger, creamier oatmeal stouts would forcibly thrust themselves upon your senses and then coat you with a heavy layer of “I’m not going anywhere!”  You actually feel like you could drink this while eating food and not miss out on either one.  I must say I agree more with those on the positive side than the negative, but I understand the nay-sayers.  To them it is a small beer, incapable of offending anyone.  Alternatively, you could see it as a courteous beer, dulling its sharpest points so as not to hurt anyone.

Good Guy Beer

Gray’s Oatmeal Stout comes a lot closer to Ryan than Bully Porter.  There is more strength in the flavor profile and a mere whiff of its style-specific aromas can turn off some drinkers.  The very dark, almost black color fits perfectly with his chosen talking points.  Economics isn’t called the “dismal science” for nothing!  But there are a few key differences.  When you drink Gray’s Oatmeal Stout, you feel happy and comfortable, like the liquid in your glass is there solely to help you live life.  That does not at all sound like the faux libertarian Tea Party.  This beer is Ryan if he were less forceful and more apt to compromise.  It certainly helped the beer, it certainly would help Ryan.  That is, assuming there are others in congress willing to do the same.

Curve Ball, Pyramid Breweries

The curve ball.  The spin bowl.  Whatever you call it in whichever form of bat-to-ball sport you play, it is the tricky secret weapon you either delight in or dread depending on what end of it you find yourself.  It is also a big part of the culture and lore of the game.  These mischievous deliveries tap into our seemingly universal propensity to fancy ourselves as the underdog.  We dream about utilizing our brain to triumph over the brawn of some Goliath out to destroy us.  Pyramid Breweries’ Curve Ball blonde ale embraces this imagery in its name.  The question is if this is a brew to be enjoyed or dreaded.  I guess it depends on whether we’re pitching/bowling or batting.

I guess it's a dirty blonde.

This beer’s slightly darker hue combines with a mild cloudiness to take any definition off the edges of objects you’re viewing through the glass.  I almost imagine it as a liquified version of the sandlot or dusty pitch.  A bready nose carries with it faint citrus flavors that come out more on the tongue.  The wheat presence in this beer is a nice touch, producing a soft mouthfeel that’s kind of like eating fluffy pillows or cumulus clouds.  Actually, water vapor and down feathers aren’t particularly tasty.  I’ll go with Japanese tofu instead.  Drinking this beer is like eating Japanese tofu... except made of barley and wheat... and it has alcohol... and you drink it... and it tastes like beer.  Right.

Curve Ball doesn’t surprize you or confuse your expectations, so you’re not on the receiving end of the throw.  Maybe it’s the feeling you have after fooling the batsman/batter and slipping the ball right past him.  As the Umpire yells “steeerike!” or the wicket flies into pieces, you feel like the cool cat on the field.  Smooth.  Skilled.  You have nothing left to prove, so there’s no point in drinking a hop bomb or pounding a wee heavy.  This blonde from Pyramid is what you drink when you’re secure in your masculinity but don’t feel like having a wine cooler.

I don't drink wine c...
Fuzzy Navel?  (glance left,
glance right, lean in)
I'll have one.