The Poet, New Holland Brewing Company

Today’s beer has in a roundabout way gotten me thinking about heaven.  It’s called The Poet and its label is a raven in the night.  A pretty clear allusion to Edgar Allen Poe’s poem named after the bird.  From my reading of it, the crux of the work comes in two stanzas near the end.

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -

On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -

Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

In the first stanza the narrator learns that his ceaseless mourning has deprived him of the promise of heaven.  Worse yet, in the second stanza he learns that he’s also lost heaven for his beloved Lenore as well.  If heaven had never existed, the raven would have said “no,” but it pretty consistently sticks to “nevermore,” pinning the blame on the bereaved lover.  It’s all kinda giving me second thoughts about drinking New Holland’s Poet, but it is an oatmeal stout.  Also beer.

Bubbly bubbly head.

The second thing I noticed about the label was that the moon is upside down!  The basalt lava plains mostly occupy the northern hemisphere of the near side, duh!  I’ll just focus on the glass.  This looks pretty darn good.  The aroma hits me with lots of milk chocolate.  The crystal malt brings the sweet feeling of smugly enjoying esoteric poetry.  It ties a rope around your waste and keeps you from losing yourself in the deep, dark abyss of the chocolate malt.  Each sip is a tightly controlled descent into the enveloping unknown while always tethered to safety.  Subsequent visits to the aroma as the beer scurries down the glass reveal the hop notes hidden in the 37 IBUs.  This is squarely a tasty beverage.  Even the tactile senses of the mouth get to revel in it’s velvety smooth texture.  No banishment from celestial existence here!

Poe was not at all the only poet to muse over the concept of heaven.  I recently encountered End of the West where Michael Dickman describes a quasi “What Dreams May Come” image where heaven is whatever you want.  The last page of his Wang Wei: Bamboo Grove reads,

You know

how we are going

to disappear

into the dirt forever

Or burn

into the sky

into oceans

Well, I love this about us

and I want to be able to do it

all by myself

It won’t be scary

or cold

Not like what they told us at all

If the are spiders

and there will be

spiders

they will not kill us

in our

New Cities

In the next poem, End of the West, he goes on to describe four of these “New Cities.”  Each one a personal heaven for a loved one and one for himself.  We all get a heaven that we construct through our experiences and desires.  Or maybe it’s even closer than that.  In a more straightforward way, Helen Lowrie Marshall wrote,

Heaven’s not a fenced-off place

In some far distant sky,

Nor is Eternity consigned

To some sweet by-and-by.

Heaven lies in every

Ordinary, common day.

We make our own Eternal life

Each step along our way.

Eternal time is measured

By a common hourglass.

We glimpse a bit of Heaven

As hours and minutes pass.

We only need the eyes to see.

The heart to count its worth,

To make our own Eternity

A Heaven here on Earth!

Three different poems from three very different directions that all have one thing in common.  They all paint an intrinsic link between the here and now and heaven.  Whether it’s Poe’s heaven that can be brought in and out of existence by our commitment to living, Dickman’s heaven that is formed by our life before death or Marshall’s heaven that is this present life, the onus is on us.  Heaven will not just come scoop us up one day.  We have to take charge of it.  Man!  I should start wearing floaties before reading poetry because it is getting deep!  Beer is such a small thing, insignificant when compared to the fundamental workings of the universe.  But I for one think it’s not a terrible place to start.  Even if it doesn’t know what direction the moon goes.  Cheers!

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.