Oskar Blues Brewery – Lyons, CO

By Jonathan Kosakow

A few miles outside of Boulder, Colorado is a small town called Lyons. In Lyons, among other things including a couple of biker bars, elk jerky for sale, and a small river, is a hometown brewpub with a far reach. Oskar Blues Brewery boasts such nationally distributed beers as the Old Chub Imperial IPA, Gordon Ale, Mama’s Little Yella Pils, and their flagship beer, Dale’s Pale Ale. All of these beers, when not on tap, are sold in cans. So, you can enjoy an ice cold Dale’s on the golf course, at the turn, while tail-gaiting, or anywhere else that doesn’t allow glass containers (a school library, for example).

Inside the bar/restaurant/arcade (yes, arcade, read on for details later…), you can expect to be pleasantly surprised by even more beers generally not available to the outside world. The “One Nut” Brown Ale, for instance, is a perfect example of the delicate balance that brown ales often lack: it has all the nutty flavor you’d expect, but is not too overpowering and goes down smoothly with a clean finish. (Interesting side note: the beer may or may not have been named in honor of Lance Armstrong).

There is much more to say about Oskar Blues Brewery. They boast a regular schedule of live music and a wealthy selection of both bar food and, for the classier crowd, ginger salmon. There is a bar downstairs with pool tables and televisions. Oh, and the arcade – just in case your seven-year-old has had one too many home made root beers – has Tron, Ms. Pacman, and a somewhat impressive selection of pinball machines. The bathrooms also don’t smell bad. But I’d go just for the beer.

The Session #40 Session Beer

Session beer. It’s relative. It’s as relative to Americans as
Thanksgiving, which in historical fact, had little to do with the
spirit of camaraderie and togetherness that Americans now associate
with the holiday. At our Thanksgiving table we have a bevy of
nap-inducing deliciousness: candied sweet potatoes, salty stewed
artichokes and creamed corn and while very few at the party are brave
enough to touch it, we keep a Jello mold ring of cranberry sauce
because that’s what Grandpa Jim loved and we all loved Grandpa Jim.

For many, session beer is simply beer that is highly drinkable.
Certainly “drinkability” and low alcohol content are all part of the
cultural understanding of what makes a session beer. However, for me,
a session beer is a beer that is more defined by the occasion than the
style. There are countless occasions that call for a session beer.

My session beer is a beer that calls for no particular fuss. It’s good
to go—right out of the bottle (or can). Sure, it may have desired
glassware, a tulip or a snifter, but often I’ve found the best
“sessions” were not one predicated on which beer was drank.

To me, “sessions” are all-encompassing conversations which start with
beers but end with opinions; on politics, culture or the nature of
good and evil. Session beer is beer that knows its role. You can drink
it warm, as sometimes sessions will drag on late into the evening. In
these conversations debate is so intense that everything else in the
world, save your conviction, becomes unimportant.

One of the earliest “sessions” I can remember occurred while I was 18.
It was my great aunt’s 90th birthday so up to Ft. Kent, ME, a town
bordering Canada, my family of New Yorker’s went. Once we arrived at
our cousin’s house, Rob, my cousin who was 16 at the time, informed me
that aunt Precilla was the only one in his immediate family who voted
for George W. Bush. When we got to Aunt Precilla’s cabin my extended
family was drinking Coors Light, Bud Light and Shipyard IPA. I had
never seen a brown bottle with such an artistic label. I saw my older
cousins drinking it and nobody objected to me having a few.

After several hours of political diatribes and philosophies bantered
about, folks were tired out. 90-year-old Aunt Precilla gave each one
of her children a big hug and all was well despite the evening’s chaos
of conversation. During the lull, I came to find out from my Uncle
Phil that our distant relatives were actually rum runners in the
illegal alcohol trade. One relative in particular went beyond the
simple racket of running booze in trucks across the border into New
England and became the captain of a “contact boat”, the small ships
that took liquor from the big boat, floating outside U.S.
jurisdiction, and brought the Canadian whiskey into Maine. Throughout
the course of the history lesson I had a few Shipyards.

Then a few more and then a few more.

A few turned into too many and too many was then followed by a few
champagne toasts and long story short I was VERY dehydrated the next
day. But in the midst of my first monster “session” I came to love
Shipyard IPA for its then-odd smelling and strange tasting flavor. I
think part of the mystery, beyond the fact that I had yet to try an
English-style American IPA at that point in time, was the fact that
the beer actually tasted different at different points in one bottle.
When first pulled, freezing-cold, from the cooler it had an unfamiliar
fruity flavor. Being completely unfamiliar with fuggles at the time, I
suspected the picture on the bottle was of a Maine blueberry bush
without blueberries. The single-hopped brew at a mere 50 IBUs made me
cringe! I’ve since had barley wines weighing over 100 IBUs. But yet I
was certain that somewhere in the brewing process blueberries were
added. As it got warmer, the fruitiness dissipated. The beer tasted
more bitter and fuller.

This fuggle-only beer initially demanded attention. Throughout the
course of the evening the beer got out of the way and discussions took
over. Discussions of politics and great grand-cousins; booze smugglers
of some local acclaim.

The Session #39 Collaborations

This Session brought to you by Mario Rubio and hop press

Queen and David Bowie. Peanut butter and jelly. American ale hit with one or two strains of Belgian yeast. Some things just go better together.

Such is the nature of collaboration. When two or more solid individual items come together to create something even better; this is collaboration at its finest.

While collaboration is in theory always a good thing, I would argue that the prospect of creating something great out of two already great things doubles the risk involved in creation. So, with that in mind, I turn my attention to two collaborative efforts I have recently, profoundly enjoyed.

One of these efforts is created by "professional" brewers, the other by "amateur" homebrewers. The first fantastic collaborative offering was created by brewmasters Adam Avery and Vinnie Cilurzo (Batch #3 brewed in February 2009). Avery is the brewmaster of Avery Brewing and Cilurzo the brewmaster of Russian River Brewing. Both two phenomenal left-coast breweries in their own right. When both brewmasters recognized they had a "Salvation" ale in their lineups, they decided it was time to break bread and not teeth. Typically whenever a brewery has a product name identical to another breweries', legal action is taken. Typically litigation or arbitration is required in these cases which is great news for the attorneys representing the breweries, but tends to turn up bad news for one of the brewers. So in the spirit of collaborative efforts, the dual-brewmaster beer was titled "Collaboration Not Litigation Ale." This name could not be more fitting.

The beer is billed as a "Belgian Strong Dark Ale" which is a bit of a misnomer as the beer isn't particularly dark. It's color is closer to an amber-blonde; more so than the typical brown or coffee colors most associate with a Belgian "Dark Ale." There are great fruity hints, beyond esters, which entice the palate with figs, raisins and dates. The yeast strain provides the classic Belgian taste that has come to bear great resemblance to the legendary Trappist ales. While the malts dominate the flavor profile, there are strong peppery and sweet character notes that give the malt-body a fairly light feel on the tongue. The carbonation is not amazingly high yet still a bit higher than is standard for a Belgian Strong Dark Ale.

The second beer I want to call attention to is another collaborative brew created in an international vein. This recipe incorporated German Malt, American hops, English hops, two and half pounds of Mexican and Colombian brown sugar and a French company’s English-style yeast. Despite the global nature of the ingredients, all parts of the recipe were actually purchased in Arlington and Philadelphia. The brown sugar or "piloncillo" as it is often called had a pound and a half hailing from Mexico and another one pound imported from Columbia. These sugars were purchased at El Chaparral, a supermarcado in Arlington, VA. The German Malt, English and American Hops, Pennsylvania water and SAF Ale 04, Whitbread English Ale Yeast Strain, were all purchased in the Keystone state. We purchased the lion's share of our ingredients from acclaimed Philly-based beer store "Home Sweet Homebrew" located at 2008 Sansom Street, Philadelphia, PA 19103.

The pilloncillo (via Mexico and Columbia), added enough octane whilst in the kettle to jack up the alcohol content and provided a 1.080 Original Gravity reading. In addition to the spiked alcohol content, the sugar provided a complexity and a dry finish to the uncarbonated beer when sampled going from the primary fermenter into the secondary.

The brewers, Doug, Joe and the author all anxiously await the final product of a truly collaborative ale. While waiting, we brewers raise a toast to one another with an Avery "Collaboration Not Litigation Ale" knowing that Russian River Brewing was cool letting Avery Brewing get the beer out of their brew house so long as it was doled out to the masses in the best collaborative fashion.

The Session # 38 OR Beer Blogging Fridays

The Session # 38

Sweetwater Tavern’s barrel-aged Desert Imperial Stout is a beer I have recently tasted that deserves a place on a pedestal. Better yet it deserves a cool, dark place in your cellar. With a dry finish, this stout has a flavor profile more complex than most $30 bottles of wine. This stout is to the Imperial style what Rodenbach is to Flanders sour. While the stout is fairly demanding on your tastes buds, I think this beer is an outlier in the cask aged category. This stout stands out primarily because it has an incredibly layered flavor profile and is complex without cloying: I was pleased to taste flavors completely distinct without any hints of whiskey or wine. Second, because it had been aged for several years, I didn’t feel that it needed further aging. This is an amazing beer at over two years old. I wonder if the yeast used is a vigorous strain…it’s nearly as dry as a Sauvignon Blanc!

I should let the reader know that I sampled the stout at the Brickskeller’s Annual “Strong Ale Tasting Extravaganzee.” Nick Funnell, Sweetwater Tavern brewmaster, was brought on stage in addition to Sweet Water Tavern’s two other brewmasters on February 23, 2010.

Any non beer geek shouldn’t be put off by the fact that a black beer has a khaki-colored head. Indeed, this is nothing uncommon in the world of beer. However, amongst beer style-purists, a stout has a white head, only porter features the darker off-white head. Is it remarkable for a stout to have an off white head?… Not necessarily. Is it remarkable that this one does? Absolutley!

Unfortunately, this beer is only available on draft, so you will never be able to sample the beer I had the privilege of tasting on February 23, 2010.

Of course, Nick Funnel is a brilliant brewmaster. However, there are still many “brewmasters” with GABF Silvers whose libations I DO NOT quaff. For more of Nick, check him out at the National Geographic Society’s May 5th event. Tickets can be purchased here.

Flying Dog Woody Creek White

Flying Dog Woody Creek White Belgian Wit 2009

by Michael Stein

If Hoegarden is your gold-standard of white or wit beers, Flying Dog Brewery’s Woody Creek White Belgian Wit gives the legendary bière blanche a run for its money.

The golden liquid is like a blissful Belgian kiss from an artisanal well. Its fresh-tasting spiciness is evidence enough, yet should you need further proof you will have to sample some after eating habanera enchiladas doused in jalapeno-seed sauce. Despite the light color, the beer has good taste, a strong hint of coriander followed by spices. A good test of a Hefe or Wit is how it tastes when it is warm. And while I wouldn’t recommend drinking warm beer, whenever I get to the end of a Pualaner Hefeweizen, though it is not as frosty and hazy as when it was first poured, Paulaner’s spice is still highly detectable. This beer tastes less spicy at its end compared to when it is first poured at the peak of its most frosty-hazy freshness. Like Paulaner, Woody’s Wit is perfect for a summer session on a steaming hot day.

Not too long ago, an American craft-brew beating out a Belgian was a hilarious thought. Today, California can brag to the French about a French wine being second-rate to its American cousin. (I’d like to think that that fact alone makes up for our attempt to white-wash America’s favorite fried food and re-dub them “freedom fries.”) Based on the merits and the solid taste of the Flying Dog brew, I think its high time America rock the boat in the pond and create wakes for the Belgian gold-standard. However comparing Flying Dog to InBev is a lot like the matchup between David and Goliath.

Distribution aside, it is no small feat that the Flying Dog Brewery has out-classed the Belgian brewers at their own wit. A beer company that started in Colorado and produces beer in Maryland, Flying Dog refers to the town of Woody Creek, CO (Hunter Thompson’s death location) as the “Gonzo Ground Zero”. The bottles bear Thompson’s quote, “good people drink good beer.”

If the bottle is believed, that good people do in fact drink good beer, the good folks at Enron must have been drinking 12-month old warm Schlitz Ice Bull. That is not to say that there are not good folks working for Anheuser-Busch, or InBev, but the good people that brew Flying Dog have a solid lock on the wit bier.

Beyond the taste, Flying Dog is a very user-friendly beer. The beers even comes with a handy flavor-scale printed on the 6-pack. Traditionally, we’d have to judge a beer by its ABV % and occasionally, its IBUs if we needed to know how bitter or hoppy it was. In fact, most beers don’t bear their IBU count at all, as it is reserved typically for IPAs or other more heavily hopped beers. The Woody Creek White tapers off at 4.9% ABV and 17 IBUs. Next to the flavor scale, pitting “Malty” and “Hoppy” at odd ends of the spectrum, is another little scale that appears to be a color scale. The color scale pits “Light” at one end and “Dark” at the other. Ironically enough, both x’s wind up at the same place on both scales, towards the “light” side, and towards the “Malty” side. However, I would be surprised to find a Flying Dog beer that is lighter than the Woody Creek White. Perhaps the In Heat Wheat is lighter, but that’s the only one I could imagine lighter than Woody Creek White.

Enjoy your Flying Dog brews! The Woody Creek is a summer seasonal, so while you may need to go a bit further to find the Woody Creek White (most distributors may have gotten rid of their last case) the Flying Dog Sampler is sold in most supermarkets these days. And you should not be disappointed by any of their brews.

Allagash Interlude

Allagash Interlude - 2007

by Dan Raposo

This bottle has been bouncing from home to home with me after I picked it up at my favorite brew store (BBC liquors in Smithfield, RI) a couple years ago during my first trip back to college for homecoming weekend. I can't really say why I've avoided it for so long, but I do know why I opened it. Other reviews on this beer spread throughout the internet always mention the fruity and wild complexity the beer offers, and I knew it would match perfectly with a meaty Brazilian dish I had for dinner.

As you pop the cork the beer starts to fix, coming to life from a long hibernation of 5 years of barrel aging and another 2+ years in the bottle thanks to me. Giving it a hearty pour, the foam rises to the top of the glass and settles into a nice, thick, rolling foam, releasing the magnitude of aromas. Fruit - sour apple, strawberry or perhaps notes of cherry, but definitely grapes from the wine barrels this beer is aged in. Upon first taste the beer is tart but then sweet, both from those same fruity tones. Bubbly in the mouth, it goes down smoothly with a dry finish. The end is the only point you remember the brews 9.5% ABV, and you probably wouldn't even notice if you never read the label, or this review.

After a couple more pours, I swirl the bottle and pour the sediment to finish off a wonderful drink. This definitely changes the tone of the beer, as it becomes a little harsher, and more of the Brettanamyces yeast really comes through.

Overall, Allagash does a great job of mixing a Belgian strong ale with the fruity notes of most Belgian ales and American wilds. I wish I had another bottle I could cellar for another 2 years.

Selinsgrove Brew Pub- Stealth Triple

By Michael Stein

The Selinsgrove Brewpub is a lot like J.R.R Tolkien’s description of the Shire…it’s a safe refuge and a reliably consistent place of merriment…and oftentimes one finds himself surrounded by men with hairy feet.

The reason so many of the pub’s locals are so consistently jovial in large part comes from what folks refer to as “the triple.” It is one of the flagship ales and a solid staple, almost always on draft at the Selinsgrove Brewpub.

The beer has had at least two different variations within the last six years. My first visit to the Shire...err I mean brewpub...back in 2003, I enjoyed the “Stealth Triple X.” The suggestion came from the whispering lips of the toothless older gentleman who had just left his wooden seat in the dining room in front of the fire. It was he who first recommended it to me, “definitely gotta get the Stealth Triple” stated this educated beer-drinker whilst stumbling up the pub’s limestone steps on his way home.

The second version was the “Organic Triple,” an even tastier brew, seemingly appealing to the whole Green trend. I’m not sure if this was ever the “official” title, as for something to be certified organic it needs (amongst a sea of bureaucratic red-tape) USDA approval, like the Pinkus Hefeweizen.

This review is of the year-round draft now offered simply as the “Stealth Triple.” The first sip brings forth a strong Belgian taste, a true abbey-style beer fashioned in the vein of a Chimay or a Delrium Tremens. Despite the subtle taste of alcohol, there is a detectable honey-sweetness in the brew, a pleasant-tasting yeasty aroma very similar to the way the beer smells. My nostrils detect a deep bready wild and yeasty smell. The bready smell leads me to believe that there is some yeast set afire! It almost tastes as if there could be some lactobacillus in there.

These wild yeasts are found in Belgian Lambics. The Stealth Triple I first tasted back in 2003 had visible sediment just the way Delerium Tremens did. I’m not sure there is any visible sediment in this version, though it seems to be better blended and (on purpose) void of any yeast sedimentation particles. On the palate, one picks up notes of bananas and cloves. It’s a refreshing brew, and while I would never hold its heavy ABV against it, it is the perfect beer for ruminating on a drunken summer evening. However, it also serves the same job in the wintertime.

Back in the days (in Belgian society), the beer you drank was indicative of your place within society. The Peasants drank ale, the Abbey’s drank doubles, and the Cardinals drank triples. I’m pleased to say that the Selinsgrove Brewpub’s Triple is intended for townsfolk and visitors alike, regardless of hierarchical order or social class.